#is this what pulls me back into the slasher fandom

[bunnymustdieagain]

just found an old rant i made about texas chainsaw massacre (2022) and it just refuelled my hatred for that movie

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements

♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear

these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason

> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.

> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.

> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact

> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced…He’s repressed, not stupid.

> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs

> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”

> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved… he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name

> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again

> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.

> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly

> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him

> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“

> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer

> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling

> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again

Bo Sinclair

> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes

> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”

> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”

> “Top three then-“

> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins

> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner

> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much

> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”

> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you

> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you

> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“

> His dirty talk gets you both off…again, and again, and again…

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore

> “Fine, fine…we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”

Vincent Sinclair

> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex

> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.

> He let’s you make the first move

> …or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while

> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes

> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you

> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.

> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him

> You giggle again “…wanna go all the way?”

>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours

> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close

> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out

> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath

Danny Johnson

> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally

> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves

> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that

> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“

> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout

> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea…Those usually don’t end well

> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.

> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before

> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass

> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him

> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner

> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him

> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him

> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show

> At least until he’s about to cum

> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other

> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”

> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection

> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though…you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them

Billy Lenz

> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.

> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling

> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone…

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“

> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously

> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited

> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?

> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage

> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance

> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating

> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you

> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“

> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants

> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly

> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once

> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much

> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once

> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you

> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm

> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning

Hannibal Lecter

> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient

> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward

> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)

> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch

> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”

> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches

> “…darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but…”

> “But what my love?”

> “Can you pretty please touch me?”

> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth

> Of course he wants, needs to taste you

> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet

> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time

> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again

> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working

> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it

> “Good puppy…Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”

> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside

> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him

> What a good pet you made…

Bubba Sawyer

> Bubba is so scared of sex at first…Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.

> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”

> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you

> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.

> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!

> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”

> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?

> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”

> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean…

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.

> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.

> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.

> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position

> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too

> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”

> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful

> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.

> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning

[slasher-fxcker]

Hihi! I was wondering if you can do billy and stu and just the slashers reacting to their someone being hurt at their job and trying to hide it?

A/N: Okay I was going to do this request for multiple slashers, BUUUUUUT I started writing for Billy and Stu and got carried away. I love them too much

Billy & Stu Reacting to their S/O being injured at work.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, brief mention of killing (but I mean this is the slasher fandom so kinda expected lol)

This blog is 18+, Minors do not interact

GIF by casualwriters

You hadn’t been working at the video store for too long but you loved it, your friend Randy had gotten you the job when they were desperate for staff. It was great for the boys too; Billy and Stu would stop by all the time using the place as their personal hang out much to your managers displeasure.

Every Saturday night the boys would swing by and pick some scary movies to watch together after you finished, unfortunately for them you were going to be stuck doing inventory tonight. As usual Billy wasn’t impressed about having to share your time with anyone other than Stu, “Just blow it off what are they going to do fire you?” you rolled your eyes as you continued getting ready. “Yes Billy, probably.”

Stu got up from his spot in front of the tv to try to pull you back to the couch, “Come on babe, do you really think you should be out at night? Don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” You try to supress your chuckle as he raises his eyebrows at you, his usual smirk on his face.

You fake innocence putting on your best fear filled voice, “Oh no, what will I do if Mr. Ghostface comes to get me.” Billy laughs one of his rare genuine laughs before Stu steps closer to you placing his hands on your waist, “I could think of a few things.” Smirking as he notices the way you flush at the suggestion. You lightly smack his chest as he laughs at himself once again before you press a chaste kiss to his lips. You grab your bag, blowing a quick kiss to Billy before heading to the door. “I’ll try to get back in time for movie night, but don’t wait up.”

Inventory was fairly boring, you tried to get it done as quickly as possible while Randy spent most of the night showing you his favourite scenes from various movies. Shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth he continued his rant, “Come on how can you have lived your whole life without watching this movie? Quick you're gonna miss the best part!”

“Randy unlike you I’m actually trying to get this finished before midnight, now are you going to help me or not?” He sighs before finally getting off his ass and heading towards the storage room, 15 minutes go by and he still isn’t back to help. “I swear to god Randy if you're napping on the kart again I’m going to kill you.” You mutter to yourself as you head to the storage room.

You see Randy sitting on the kart going through a box of movies, you try to get a closer look before he sees you. You noticed the box of X rated movies he was looking at. “Randy you perv!” You didn’t realise you had snuck up on him before he jumped up knocking you into the shelves behind you both. Before you could move a box came off the shelf and fell onto you. Your head immediately pounded “Oh shit, Y/N!” Randy hurries to help you up, moving the various tapes that are scattered around to get you back out into the store, sitting up on the counter Randy starts looking over your head. “Oh shit, you're bleeding. Billy’s going to kill me.” You feel him practically prod at your forehead as you hiss in pain and slap his hand away. He helps you clean up the blood and tells you to go home, “Ill finish up here, it’s the least I can do.” You can see how sincere he is when he apologises. Your only worry is how you're going to explain this to the boys.

You decide to head straight home, hopefully the boys will think you just had to stay too late and will leave you be until tomorrow. That way you would at least have time to clean yourself up and come up with a story.

Looking in the mirror the damage is worse than you thought, the red tint on your forehead of smudged blood, the dried blood in your hairline and the bruising that was already beginning to show around the cut that could definitely not be concealed. You sighed as you wet a cloth in the bathroom sink raising it to your head gently, the pain immediately making you wince at the contact.

You raised your hand to try again when you heard something in your room, you looked out the doorway and saw what you could only assume was the boys sneaking in your window. You panicked and slammed the bathroom door closed locking it behind you. You hear the taller of the two call out to you as he knocks on the bathroom door. When you don’t answer he tries to open the door, “Whys the door locked babe?”

“Sorry Stu, I’m not feeling too well.” You try to sound convincing. This time its Billy that answers, “Come out here and tell us what’s wrong.” “Yeah we will look after you.” Stu giggles as you can clearly hear Billy push him away from the door. You feel bad hiding from them, “No its okay, you should probably go home in case I’m uh infectious or something. Yeah.” Your voice wavers and you know you aren’t convincing anyone.

Stu is quiet for once but you hear the edge in Billy’s voice as he speaks, “Y/N don’t lie to us, get out here.” You know they won’t leave, part of you wonders if it would be dramatic to climb out the window at this point. “Don’t make me break the door down.” You would’ve rolled your eyes but you knew he probably wasn’t kidding.

You slowly unlocked the door before slipping out of the bathroom, still not looking at either of them. You try to hide your face but of course they can see it, Stu is at your side immediately trying to make sure you're okay. He gently inspects the cut careful not to touch it. You try to ignore Billy’s stare but you can feel his eyes on you, looking at him for a second regret fills you when you meet his eyes. Billy might be a murderer but everything he does is so calm and thought out, never out of rage. You wouldn’t know that looking at him now, fists clenched at his side as his eyes narrow at you, gaze shifting between your eyes and the cut on your head.

Stu takes you to sit down on the bed, unsure of how to help you. He might be the most caring person when it comes to you but he’s also kinda hopeless. Billy’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you move around the room. Eventually after what felt like endless silence he walks towards you taking your chin in his hand and turning your face to look at the cut better. “Who did this to you?” Any other time Billy’s over protective tendencies would make you feel secure but seeing him like this, eyes dark and glazed over in anger didn’t bring you any comfort.

“No one did this to me.” He cut you off as his grip tightened slightly, “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who did this to you.” You don’t know what to say, you pull your chin out of his grip and sigh, “I was working with Randy and…” Stu seems to pull you closer protectively as Billy raises his voice again. “Randy did this to you?” Billy hated Randy already for so many reasons but this time Stu is the one to speak up, “That little fucker is going to pay,” he stood up and tried to walk away before you grabbed him, “No! I mean please just stay here with me,” you plead him as you pull him into a hug again, you know just how to stop this big softy from making a stupid decision like trying to kill Randy.

“He’s right. You think he gets to hurt you and get away with this.” Calming Billy down was going to be a harder task, “He didn’t hurt me Billy, we were taking inventory and it was an accident.” He scoffed, “He accidentally sliced your head open.” You walk towards Billy and take his face in your hands making him look at you once again, “It was an accident,” he tries to turn his head away but you bring him back to look at you, “And I’m fine now. I promise.”

You watch him as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips, bringing himself closer to you. You reach up to place a kiss on his lips, slightly surprised when he begins to deepen it. His hands wrap around your waist as he starts walking you backwards towards the bed. You know where this is going and as the back of your knees hit the bed frame you break apart smiling up at him as you think you’ve won this one. He gently pushed you back onto Stu’s lap, the kind look gone from his face as he turns to Stu, “Keep her here til I get back.” Stu only seems to nod and Billy starts walking back towards the window, you suddenly realise what’s happening and frantically try to get out of Stu’s embrace.

“Billy no!” you practically yell at him, stopping him half way out the window, “Please Billy, don’t kill him.” He doesn’t respond as he sends you a bone chilling smirk and disappears out of your room.

[jayviksbf]

"Force you to Sleep."

you cannot tell me that this man is not a cuddler. my first time writing for the slasher fandom so please be nice to me.

reader has trouble sleeping. bo is annoyed at their absence and comes to bring them back to bed. kind of comfort for disassociation? if that's not an accurate term I apologize. reader is gender neutral.

The alarm clock read 2:47AM as you rolled over onto your side, the red glow of the numbers displayed just softly enough to not bother your eyes. You couldn't sleep again, and had gotten tired of trying to sleep, and staring off into the darkness. Rinse and repeat. You had to get up. Trying your best not to wake Bo as you slipped out of bed, you silently cursed the both of you for being so damn clingy at night. Somehow you managed to wiggle out of his grasp without disturbing his sleep. Making your way down the stairs, every creak in the steps sounded x10 louder than it really was in the dead silence of the house. Part of you wondered if you should have just stayed in bed even longer, waiting out whatever was keeping you from sleep until you eventually knocked out. 'Too late now', you thought.

As you stood in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of the crickets and other nocturnal creatures, and staring off out the window, you felt... uneasy. Ambrose always unsettled you at night. Sure, it was weird enough during the day, but it was your home now. It felt safe, especially with the boys walking around all the time. Not at night, though. Something felt different as you stared out the window at the empty, dark streets, the empty yards and houses. It felt like the town was staring back at you.

Bo had noticed your absence rather quickly after you'd gotten out of bed. At first he figured you were probably going to the bathroom or something. He didn't bother moving, and went back to sleep. That was, until you didn't come back. He couldn't stay asleep for long without you anymore. The feeling of the empty space in the bed beside him pulled him back to consciousness once again, and he found himself frustrated. What the hell were you doing? Why hadn't you made your way back upstairs, and into his grasp again yet? Whatever it was about that town, had captivated you so completely you hadn't even noticed as he made his way down the creaky stairs and sauntered sleepily up behind you.

This wasn't the first time he had found you like this. It had become a recurring thing these past couple weeks, and he'd never say it aloud, but he was concerned. He'd come down, and usually find you staring off out the window just like you were now, or mindlessly scrolling through TV channels without even paying attention to what was on the screen. It'd take him a minute to get your attention, coaxing you out of whatever state you were in during those moments. Slowly, and as gently as he could, he reached out and placed a hand on your waist. "(Y/N)."

Bo's voice was quiet, just above a whisper as he coaxed you out of your trance like he always did. He wrapped an arm around you, and turned you to face him. You didn't break your gaze from the window until he gently grasped your chin, tilting your head to look at him instead. "Sweetheart. What're you doin' down here, hm?" Your gaze finally met his, and he gave you a tired smile. "There ya' are. What's goin' on?" You wrapped your arms around his torso, slowly coming back to it as you focused on the soft sound of his voice.

"Couldn't sleep. Sorry..." Was all the explanation you could manage in the moment, and he nodded, bringing you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely. "At's alright. Don't need to apologize to me." He brought a hand up to stroke your hair. "Come back to bed, hm? S'Lonely without you up there." He wasn't really asking you to come back to bed. More like telling you, but y'know... nicely. "Need to stop leavin' me at night." His tone was comforting, but you were aware enough now to know he was being serious. Bo didn't like waking up to an empty bed in the middle of the night. It sent his paranoia through the roof, thinking maybe you'd ran off or worse, something had happened to you.

As you attempted to further ground yourself, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours, the smell of him as he held you securely against his frame, you felt yourself be lifted off your feet. One arm hooked itself under your knees, the other holding you securely around your torso. "C'mon. Let's get you some sleep, hm?" Bo kissed the top of your head, and carried you up the stairs. Gently, he set you in the bed, chuckling softly as you nestled yourself comfortably in the blankets. He slipped into bed next to you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you tight against his chest. His head rested in the crook of your neck, nestled against you. Bo knew you were probably out already, muttering to himself as he drifted off.

"Next time I'll force ya' to sleep if I have to."

[qtboni]

#.QTBONI‘S — RULES & MASTERLIST !

the curated collection of my written works, organized by fandom and characters. these stories feature mature adult themes and content, and every character depicted in the works is written as an 18+ individual.

「 this is a multi, n/sfw content blog <3 minors & ageless blogs dni! 」 + please read all tags and content warnings before reading!

SERIES

1000 followers event

FICS

⋆៹ SIMON RILEY ᵎᵎ

love language ꒰ despite his difficulty in expressing his emotions, he still finds ways to show his love for you ꒱

melting into your arms ꒰ him melting into your arms after a rough day at work ꒱

shattered hopes ꒰ he lashes out on you and was very dismissive over your efforts for him ꒱

rebuilding hopes ꒰ after an argument with you, he feels a deep sense of remorse for the pain he caused ꒱

loved imperfections ꒰ he reassures your insecurities with loving words ꒱

sweet dreams, my love ꒰ he woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him ꒱

a lil' vampire you are ꒰ you bite him with your canine teeth and he gets feral for it ꒱

wild cowboy ꒰ he indulges you in your pretty lil fantasies of him being a cowboy ꒱

shying away ꒰ he encourages and guides you on what he wants to do to you ꒱

atrapada ꒰ kidnapped and tortured in front of him, he has to endure all of it until he gets his hands on your captor ꒱

⋆៹ KÖNIG ᵎᵎ

rest well, mein liebe ꒰ he lets you rest on his shoulder, and him also resting on top of your head ꒱

love in the emergency room ꒰ you were brought into the emergency room and he was your emergency contact ꒱

bloodstained love ꒰ yandere slasher au, he comes home to you after killing someone and asks you if you're proud of him ꒱

⋆៹ CAPTAIN PRICE ᵎᵎ

cocoa kisses ꒰ he craves warmth and safety, which he finds whenever he comes to you, the person he loves ꒱

what'd u call me? ꒰ fatherfigure au, where you accidentally calls him dad ꒱

⋆៹ VARIOUS ᵎᵎ

hug me close ꒰ having cold hands for cuddles ꒱

our journey begins ꒰ their reaction to the news of your pregnancy ꒱

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[sleepingdeath-light]

the difficulties of a (not so) long distance relationship ; 18+

kinktober day eleven

pairing ; billy lenz x non binary amab!reader insert

fandom ; slashers / black christmas

masterlists ; fandom | kinktober | ao3

content ; dominant!reader, submissive!billy lenz, phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, likely very ooc!billy

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Billy Lenz is a strange man. You love him, of course you do, but even you can’t deny how… eccentric he can be sometimes.

Right now you’re being subjected of one of Billy’s more enjoyable habits: his petulant insistance that you help him get off over the phone when you’re unable to climb up to the attic and help him in person. And, of course, being the oh-so-loving partner that you are, you’re all too happy to lend a hand — even if you do wish he’d stop calling the landline when your housemates are literally only a handful of feet away from you and could very easily walk into the hallway and catch you red-handed.

But the scolding can wait for another time, when you don’t have a needy, whiny boyfriend on the line waiting for your attention.

—————————————

‘Billy, baby, are you really that desperate that you can’t wait a few minutes?’ You tease, smiling against the receiver of the phone when you hear a shaky whimper through the speaker. ‘Need me that bad, huh honey?’

‘Mhm,’

‘So are you gonna be a good boy for me? Gonna be quick and quiet? Don’t want anyone else to hear us do we, baby?’

Another shaky gasp echos through the phone before he all but shouts his next words out, forcing you to pull the phone back a few inches to protect your hearing. ‘No! No! Billy will be good! Billy is good!’

‘Yeah?’ You laughed affectionately in response, fighting the urge to shake your head as you continued. ‘Well then, let’s make this quick and then I can come up and take care of you properly. How does that sound? Good?’

The only confirmation you get is the sound of Billy’s pants being shoved down to his knees and a throaty groan when, you assume, he finally wraps his hand around the base of his aching cock. And that’s more than enough for you to finally start giving him what he wants — after a cursory look around to make sure you won’t be interrupted, of course.

‘Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?’ He grunts his affirmation into the phone and you hum your approval. ‘Are you doing what I do, baby?’

‘Mhm,’ he affirmed in a gasp, ‘but your hand feels much — ah — nicer than Billy’s,’

‘I know, baby,’ you reassure breathily, before continuing in a lower tone, ‘maybe you need some more lubrication. Spit on your hand and use that to jerk off — can you do that for me, honey?’

Immediately you can hear him following your instruction, quickly followed by the lewd wet sound of him fisting his cock.

‘Good boy, Billy… fuck…’

From the shameless sounds he’s making you can picture exactly what he must look like right now and it takes every ounce of self control in your body for you to not hang up the phone and run up to the attic to join him: you can see his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching as he works himself closer to climax; you can envision the delectable bobbing of his Adam’s Apple as he throws his head back and swallows and gasps through all of the delightful moans and groans and grunts you’re hearing; you can imagine how his cock, angry red and drooling, must look right now — curving up towards his clenching stomach as he fucks his own trembling fist; you can picture, clear as day, the trembling of his lips and the unfocused teary look in his hooded eyes as he begs and pleads for you to keep talking. Predictable. Desperate. Perfect.

And you tell him as such, praising and degrading him in just the way he likes as you talk him through to his climax.

‘Keep going, sweetheart,’

‘That’s it, good boy, let me hear you,’

‘Why don’t you play with your balls, sweet thing? You love it when I do that, maybe that’ll get you off faster,’

‘So desperate for me, I fucking love it,’

‘You close yet, baby? Gonna cum from my voice? You’re so shameless, I love you,’

‘Go faster, Billy,’

‘Think you can be a bit rougher with yourself, sweets? Good boy,’

‘Ah ah ah! Don’t be too loud or my roommates will hear you and know what’s going on. Unless you want everyone to know what a needy little pervert you are?’

‘Fuck you sound so hot right now,’

‘Is your hand over your mouth right now? Stop that. I wanna hear you, baby,’

And for his part, naturally, your Billy is as vocal as ever and makes no effort to hide exactly how much your words are affecting him: shameless moans, throaty groans, stuttered grunts, sobs, whimpers of your name and his favourite little pet name (‘piggy’, of course), pleas for something he never quite gets around to specifying, and repeated loud calls of ‘gonna cum’ and ‘close’ that have your dick hardening and aching in your pants. Frankly for how loud he sounded over the phone you’re shocked that you can’t hear him through the ceiling — but, then again, you know that this isn’t the first time he’s gotten himself off in the attic so you’re sure he’s found all sorts of ways to keep you all unaware of his activities up there.

From there it only takes one more sentence from you to have your sweet little Billy falling apart at the seams with your name and a string ‘thank you’s on his lips that manages to be as endearing as it is arousing.

‘Alright then, pretty boy, go ahead and cum for me,’

Yeah, Billy is a real handful sometimes. But, as you’ve found over the years, he’s more than worth the trouble.

[captainsophiestark]

The Most Important Mission of All

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my 1.5k Follower Campaign! Requested by @hawaiianpizzaenjoyer - Hope you like it June! Thanks for being patient while I got it done!

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: "I can't stop thinking about you."

Summary: Jack and his SO have been dating for a long time, and now he has something very important to ask.

Word Count: 1,592

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

When my boyfriend first asked me to meet him at the docks in New York close to sunset, I couldn't help being a little worried. He was chief of the New York SSR, after all, and a request like that immediately made me think he needed a bail-out with a crime syndicate, or an undercover mission partner who would fly under the radar (since I'd never done spy work in my entire life and no one would recognize me). I'd run through a dozen possibilities in my head, and they only seemed all the more likely when I arrived at the pier Jack had mentioned to find him waiting for me at the gangplank of a ship, dressed to the nines in my favorite tux of his.

Luckily for me, I'd worn a nice outfit too, so I'd be able to blend in at whatever evil yacth party we were clearly about to crash.

Jack beamed as soon as he saw me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in for a kiss as soon as I was close enough.

"Hi, gorgeous. You look amazing."

I smiled at him, pulling back just enough to be able to meet his eyes.

"Thanks. You do, too." Jack hummed, then pulled me back to him for another kiss. I let it linger for a few moments, then gently pulled away. "As much as I'm enjoying this... I'm dying to know what all this is about."

"You'll see," Jack said with a smirk. He dropped his hands from my waist, instead moving to take one of my hands in his. "C'mon."

Without another word, he started pulling me towards the ramp onto the boat. I trailed after him, scanning our surroundings for any clues as to what we were about to walk into. No one else seemed to be around as we stepped onto the boat, which made things a little eerie. I gripped Jack's hand a little tighter, and he glanced back to shoot me a smile over his shoulder.

"Almost there."

If I hadn't been dating him for so long, to the point that I trusted him more than just about anyone else in my life, I would've thought this was the setup for a slasher movie.

Jack pushed open a door leading out to the deck of the boat, then turned back to me with a proud smile as I followed him through. I raised an eyebrow at him before looking at what he'd apparently been so eager to show me.

On deck, I wasn't greeted with a swanky shady party or an illegal mob meeting. No one was on deck at all, besides me and Jack. And set up under beautiful strands of sparkling light sat a table, draped in white linen and set for a nice dinner. Two glasses of wine waited, with candles and rose petals decorating the rest of the space to really make the scene look like something out of a movie. I turned back to Jack, mouth slightly open.

"Jack... what is all this?"

He absolutely beamed back at me.

"Do you like it? I thought it'd be a nice surprise. The boat's gonna go around the tip of Manhattan, so we can look at the lights while we have a nice dinner."

"That's amazing! I love it. Just... what's the occasion?"

Jack glanced down, shaking his head as he did so.

"Nothing," he said, incredibly unconvincingly for someone who's primary job was "spy". "Just thought it'd be a nice a surprise."

I nodded, scanning our surroundings again even as I let Jack lead me over to the table. He pulled out my chair for me, then pushed it in before sitting down himself. The boat started pulling out of the harbor as we settled in, and after another moment, I couldn't hold back the question continuing to nag at the back of my mind.

"Is this an SSR thing?" I asked, leaning over the table and keeping my voice as low as possible. Jack's brow furrowed.

"What?"

"All this. Is it a setup for some guys you need to get, or a cover for a stakeout or something?"

"What? No, I just thought it'd be a nice surprise to put together for you. Why would you think it's an SSR thing?"

"Well, you don't usually ask me to meet you at the docks for dates. And this is so sweet, but it's also a little unprompted. I don't know, I just thought you might be secretly calling me in for help on a mission or something."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but right before he could, two people appeared at our table to set appetizers down in front of us and fill up our glasses with wine. Like they'd been cued, I looked up to find Daniel and Peggy smiling at the two of us. My eyebrows shot into my hairline, and I managed to give them both a polite smile before fixing Jack with a look.

"They're here because they're our friends, not because this is an undercover op," he deadpanned immediately. Daniel snorted and Peggy whacked him in the shoulder, but I could see the two of them chuckling to each other as they walked away.

"I believe you, but you do see my point, right?"

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I guess I do."

I gave him a little smile, then picked up my wine glass and held it out for a cheers. Jack smiled back and did the same, but I noticed his hand shaking a little as he clinked our glasses together. I narrowed my eyes, but Jack didn't seem to notice. He glanced around the deck, where we were currently alone, then finally brought his eyes back to me as he shifted in his seat. Honestly, despite everything he kept saying, I was half expecting him to let me in on some terrible secret when he slid out of his seat and to the deck of the ship, landing on one knee in front of me.

I gasped, my brain fully stalling. I could see Jack mouthing my name, but my brain couldn't seem to process it. A smile made its way onto my face of its own volition, and a shakier version of a smile made its way onto Jack's, too.

"You with me?" he asked, a breathy laugh in his voice as my brain finally started working again. I nodded, my hands flying to my mouth to cover a rapidly-growing smile and a truly disbelieving laugh. "Good."

He cleared his throat, shifting a litte, then continued.

"Like I said, this isn't an SSR thing. It's... look, I've never felt this way about somebody before. I've never been in a relationship where I actually want to spend all my time with the person I'm with."

"Never?" I broke in, giving Jack a teasing smile as I said it so he'd know I was kidding. He rolled his eyes.

"Never until you. With you, I finally had to stop giving Sousa shit for how moon-eyed he is over Carter, because I've been the same way about you. I can't stop thinking about you. I love you. You're the most incredible person I've ever met, and nobody else has even come close. I'm... happier, when I'm with you, and better in every way. I can't think of anyone else I'd want to spend the rest of my life with. So..."

Jack paused, taking a deep breath as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. I obviously knew it was coming, but I still couldn't hold back a little surprised and happy sob as he held it out and opened it, revealing an absolutely beautiful ring inside.

"Will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?"

"Yes! Jack, of course, yes! I love you, so much," I said, barely letting him finish the question before blurting out my answer. I slid to the floor with him, wrapping my arms around his neck as I pulled him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me close.

"Really? Yes?"

"Of course!"

"...I feel like I'm hallucinating."

I laughed, pulling back enough to look Jack in the eye. I moved my hands to his face, rubbing my thumbs over his cheeks and not bothering to fight back the happy tears streaming down my own face. Even Jack's eyes were a little misty as he pulled me to him for a long, sweet kiss, then pulled away and took my hand, gently slipping the engagement ring onto my finger.

I stared at it for a minute, then brought my other hand up to the nape of Jack's neck, running my fingers through the hair there as I gently pulled him closer to me. I rested my forehead against his and the hand with the ring on his chest, right over his heart. I smiled, taking a moment to let my new reality sink in. After a few beats, Jack leaned in to close the distance between us for another soft, sweet kiss.

The kiss deepened, both of us seriously at risk of getting a little too carried away. Somehow, I managed to bring us back to reality just in time. After all, Peggy and Daniel were still here, and we still had the rest of our beautiful picnic dinner to enjoy. And now we had the rest of our lives together ahead of us, too. There'd be plenty of time for anything and everything we could possibly dream of doing together.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[nimbusslasher]

Slashember Day 1 - Carrie White x Fem!Reader - Halloween Party Fluff

Pairing: Carrie White x Feminine Reader WC: 978(ALMOST 1K!! WOOO!!) Type: Fluff Fandom: Slashers, Carrie (1976) Contains: Pet Names (Carrie - Care Bear or Babe, You - babe, my love, sexy ass), established relationship, speak/reference of social anxiety & panic attacks

A/N: So this was a lot of me being in an amazing mood when I wrote this, most of it was during lectures... gonna be truthful with that. But this was honestly like such a joy to write, I loved it! My little NBLW heart went crazy with this, Pleas enjoy!

"Babe! We're gonna be late!" Carrie called from outside the bathroom. "Just gimme a minute! I'm almost done! I need to get my eyeliner right! We can be fashionably late! It'll look cool!" You said, getting a highly exaggerated dramatic sigh from your girlfriend who was standing outside the door, making you giggle, and fuck up your eyeliner... again.

You threw your head back and loudly whined, it mixing with a groan due to your frustration, very annoyed from the now repeated action of trying to get this right. You were gonna have to ask for help. dammit. "Care Bear, can you come help me please?" You asked, a slight whine in your tone. You heard your girlfriend chuckle outside the door before she turned the knob to the bathroom door, checking to see if you were behind it first before opening it fully.

"Of course, My love." Carrie said lovingly as she gently took the eyeliner pen and makeup wipes from you, gently wiping off your botched attempts at the perfect eyeliner. She gently began to match the other eye with the eyeliner, almost like copying a painting, she would pause and stare at the finished eyeliner for a minute before continuing to use the eyeliner. Her smile was wide as she finished up "So cute, my love, but are you sure you wanna go? I know parties aren't really your scene, and I don't have to go. Save you the anxiety of people?" She asked, looking at you with a concerned expression, you knew it was because she loved you, you found her concern endearing.

"I'll be just fine, Care Bear, please don't worry about me so much, I already do enough of that myself...I wanna go, I don't think I've been to a party in a long long time.." you said, looking at your makeup in the mirror. It was perfect, it always was when Carrie did the eyeliner for you, if someone held a gun to your head and said 'do perfect winged eyeliner' you wouldn't live to tell the tale.

You were a little nervous, but your costume was cute, you had decided on going as Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune. Just making sure the skirts covered at least half of your knees.

"Good, now get your sexy ass in the car!" Carrie said, her worry shaking away, being replaced by a playful mood as she gently pushed on your lower back, pushing you out of the bathroom, walking you downstairs and out the front door, turning around and locking the door after she checked that you had everything, purse, hairbrush, keys, taser- wait what? nothing.

You got into the car, shivering slightly "Damn, It's cold out." you said as your girlfriend slipped into the drivers seat, she took notice of your shiver and turned on the car, flicking on the heat, your shiver almost melting off of you in a way, replaced with a gentle, warm, homey feeling.

Carrie checked if you had your seatbelt on before putting the car into drive and pulling out of the driveway and driving the route she had memorized before you both left the house

Carrie let out a small sigh when you reached the house that was hosting the party, she parked, and turned to you "Are you sure that you wanna do this? We can always turn around and go home and cuddle, chill, eat, watch movies and stuff..." She said, a bit worried about you

"Care Bear! I will be fiiine. I'm okay! please don't worry so much, I just wanna have fun with you, It's halloween! and I'm doing something scary to honor that. Plus, you'll be there with me! I'm not alone, babe, I promise." You said, trying to reassure her "Just.. don't leave me stranded? All I really need to feel comfortable is... you." Your sweet words melted at her worry, she sighed

Carrie decided to let it go, they would have a good time! You two got out of the car, your excitement rose as you spotted some of Carrie's friends outside mingling

Carrie grabbed your hand softly, gently squeezing. She had invited you to come with her, you knew that she was worried you would be overwhelmed with the people, the noise, etc,etc. She didn't want her idea to cause you a panic attack, she would feel terrible and incredibly guilty

Carrie stuck by you the entire time, holding your drink when you weren’t drinking it, when you were in the bathroom, which is when she stood outside the door. Everyone thought your costumes were adorable, which made you very happy

After hours of mingling and eating snacks you went home, getting into the car to instantly be hit with a quick “Did you have fun? are you okay? Did everything go okay?” From Carrie, her words clashing together and smushing like clay as they came out of her mouth.

You turned to her and took her hand in yours “I’m fine, Care Bear. I couldn’t be better. I had so much fun with you tonight. I can’t wait to go home and fall asleep on the couch with you.”

This was enough to assure Carrie, she smiled and kissed the back of your hand softly, taking her key and starting the car to head home

Once you got home you both quickly hopped into some comfortable clothes, cuddling up on the couch in your pjs with some of your favorite snacks and drinks, beginning to watch “halloween” movies, specifically non-gorey ones, as Carrie said that she wants something she’s not constantly paranoid about after

“I love you so much, i’m so glad you had a great time…” Carrie said groggily after a couple hours of watching moves, as she drifted off she pulled you closer, so you turned off the movie and fell asleep too

wowww wow wow wowzie that was a lot, i literally spent 3 days working this out and fixing stuff bc i am a greedy bitch who likes to do what they want

Sooo tomorrow is Billy Loomis smut! who’s up for it? pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged!!

[zapreportsblog]

Can you do rusty nail x male reader

❝road side rescue❞

✭ pairing : rusty nail x male reader

✭ fandom : slashers, joyride

✭ summary : here’s a little look into the life of rusty and his partner met

✭ authors note : no lie all these requests pouring in are becoming overwhelming :( don’t get me wrong I’m happy I’m getting them but it’s like they coming in back to back and it scares me that I won’t have enough time for myself and my own writing ideas

✭ slashers masterlist

The rhythmic hum of the tires on the asphalt was the only sound that accompanied (m/n) on his journey down south to visit his beloved Nana and Pa. He'd been driving for hours, the open road stretching out before him like an endless ribbon of possibilities. The radio played a soft country tune, setting the mood for the picturesque drive through the countryside.

Just when (m/n) was lost in thought, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by a loud, unmistakable "pop." His car shuddered as he instinctively gripped the steering wheel. (M/n)’s heart sank as he realized what had just happened - a flat tire. He cursed under his breath, pulling over to the side of the road.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustration welling up. He gave the steering wheel a few frustrated thumps with his palm, as if it would magically fix the situation. But the sky above had different plans. Dark clouds rolled in, and within moments, the heavens opened up, drenching (m/n) and his car.

With a sigh, (m/n) reached for the car's radio. He figured he might as well try to call for help. He fiddled with the dial until he found a frequency that wasn't just static.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" (M/n) spoke into the microphone, his voice crackling through the speakers.

Silence hung in the air for a moment, and (m/n) was beginning to lose hope when a voice finally responded from the other end, "Hey there, buddy, what seems to be the problem?"

(M/n) was relieved to hear a friendly voice. "I'm stuck on the side of the road," he explained, "my car's tires popped, and I don't have a spare. I'm on my way to visit my Nana and Pa, and I can't leave them waiting."

The voice on the other end sounded thoughtful. "Well, that's no good. What kind of car are you driving?"

(M/n) leaned over and peered at the emblem on the steering wheel. "It's a classic [brand]."

There was a pause, and then the voice responded, "You won't believe it, but I've got the same car. I can swing by my place, grab you a spare tire, and help you out."

Gratitude washed over (m/n). "That would be a lifesaver! Thank you so much. By the way, what's your name?"

The voice on the other end chuckled. "You can call me Rusty Nail."

(M/n) couldn't help but smile at the unique nickname. "Alright, Rusty Nail, I really appreciate your help. I'll wait here for you."

As the rain poured down and the minutes passed, (m/n) couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious stranger who had come to his rescue.

(M/n) sat in his car, the rain drumming relentlessly on the roof. The minutes dragged on as he waited for the mysterious Rusty Nail, who had promised to rescue him from his flat tire predicament. The radio continued to play softly in the background, its soothing tunes doing little to ease (m/n)’s impatience.

Suddenly, the sound of a roaring engine filled the air, and (m/n) looked up to see a massive truck pulling up beside him. Out from the driver's seat, a man jumped with an agility that defied his trucker image. The rain poured down on him, but he didn't seem to mind as he approached (m/n)’s window.

(M/n)’s heart raced as the man knocked on the window. Despite the rain clouding his vision, he could make out the stranger's imposing build. The sight of the man made him blush, though he wasn't sure why.

"You the fellow from the radio?" the man asked, his voice gruff yet friendly.

(M/n) swallowed hard, feeling a bit flustered. "Y-yes, that's me," he replied, his voice trembling slightly.

The stranger extended a hand through the open window, and (m/n) took it, feeling the warmth of the man's palm. The rain continued to pour, and (m/n) held up a big flashlight to illuminate the area as the stranger got to work fixing the tire.

With practiced efficiency, the man changed the flat tire with a spare, his muscles flexing under his soaked shirt. (M/n) couldn't help but steal glances, admiring the man's backside. He quickly averted his gaze when he realized he'd been caught staring.

After finishing the task, the man leaned against the car's hood, a smug smirk on his face. "Aren't you going to thank your savior?" he teased, his tone playful.

(M/n)’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he stammered out a grateful, "Th-thank you."

The man chuckled, a deep and hearty sound. "Don't mention it, kid. Just doing my good deed for the day."

Realizing he hadn't introduced himself, (m/n) felt a pang of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I never go to tell you my name."

The man waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "Don't sweat it. I already know your name."

Mark blinked in surprise. "How?"

The man simply grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Let's just say I have my ways. You take care now." With that, he turned and walked back to his truck, his broad shoulders disappearing into the rain-soaked night.

As the truck rumbled to life and drove away, (m/n) was left sitting in his car, still slightly bewildered by the encounter. Who was this enigmatic man named Rusty Nail, and how did he know his name?

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Epitome of Sweet Misery

It had been his idea – to carve his moniker into your flesh, to mark you as his. The two of you’d been going at this long enough that you might as well make it official, and who needed a ring when he had a knife?

Rating: Mature 🔞 Fandom(s): Dead By Daylight, Scream Pairing: Danny Johnson/Ghostface x GN!Reader Word count: 1.1K Content warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, knifeplay, painplay, marking, crying, grinding, choking, threat of death, toxic relationship, it’s not Stockholm Syndrome but it’s got that kind of vibe, voice kink, only mildly tho, implied blowjobs, written with the intent of Ghostface being Danny Johnson but tbh it’s vague enough that you can imagine whichever Ghostface you want AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: Done with Blood Fest Week 4! Keywords were “enliven” and “raw”, and I used the prompts “mask”, “knife”, and “venom”. Fun fact, Danny Johnson was my first ever slasher crush, but I’ve never actually written for him before. So I figured this was a good chance to go ahead and do that! Dunno if I’ll write him again, but I enjoyed this. And I hope you guys do too! <3

You knew it was on purpose. You knew he wanted it to hurt.

Yes, the alcohol was to keep the wound sterilized – “Can’t have you dying on me yet,” he’d whispered, saccharine venom dripping from the words. But the fact that it did hurt, that every dab of the alcohol-soaked cloth after every slice sent fire roaring through your veins? It was fully intentional.

He wasn’t stupid. But he did love to make you squirm.

The gloved hand shifted against your back. You braced yourself. With tender, agonizing slowness, the tip of the knife dragged against your skin. Your flesh split open, spilling more blood down your back and sides, and you grit your teeth, twisted your fingers in the sheets and squeezed your eyes shut to keep more tears from falling. Then the alcohol-soaked cloth followed. Needle-sharp pain burned through the cut. You choked on a sob and shuddered through it, riding out the pain until it faded and only a drunken, dream-like high was left.

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he purred. The cheap plastic of his mask brushed against your shoulder. Even with its presence, even with the voice changer, you could still hear the smile in his voice. “You’re doing so good, baby. Only three letters to go.”

He slid his free hand around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your back to the solidness of his front. The fabric of his costume rubbed against your raw, sensitive wounds, and you twitched, biting down a noise of discomfort. But then you were biting down a moan as he rolled his hips and made it impossible to ignore the hardness pressed up against your ass.

A promise for what was to come once you were finished.

It had been his idea – to carve his moniker into your flesh, to mark you as his. The two of you’d been going at this long enough that you might as well make it official, and who needed a ring when he had a knife?  Who needed to announce it to the world when it could be your secret? If he’d said it any earlier, before your fear and dread of his visits shifted to eagerness and anticipation, you would’ve screamed at him. Told him no, are you insane? Permanently fucking up your body so you could never truly be free from him? No. No. He could go shove that knife up his ass.

But now? Once the shock had worn off, glee had taken hold. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know his real name, his real face. He wanted you. He wanted you so badly that he wanted to carve his want into your flesh. The idea of that name – Ghostface – permanently etched into your skin, knowing that you’d be explicitly undeniably his, body and soul, forever….

It was worth it. Worth the pain. Worth the agonizing, teeth-gritting, sob-inducing pain.

You drew in a shaky breath.

Only three letters to go.

“Come on.” He traced little circles along your abdomen, just low enough to be tantalizing. “Don’t give up now. You’re so close.” The way he said it, so suggestively, voice dropping at the last word – your insides clenched. “I’m so close.” Another roll of his hips. You moaned softly.

“Okay,” you panted out. “Okay.”

You leaned forward, giving him access to your back. He hummed with satisfaction and stroked your skin. Admiring the canvas of your body. Before putting brush to canvas and painting it red again.

You held your breath, heart hammering its way up your throat as he cut and carved and sanitized. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks. One cut. Two cuts. A third. A swipe of the alcohol cloth that made you dig your fingernails into your palms and bury your teeth into your lip. The letter “A” done. A long, curving cut next for the “C”. Another wipe of the alcohol cloth. He was hard against you as a sob threatened to escape. He was enjoying this, your pain, your struggle to contain it. Somewhere deep inside, bitterness festered at the thought. But it was soothed by a sweet caress, by a whispered, “You’re so good for me. Almost there, baby.”

And oh, did you want to be good for him.

You were soaked in sweat and blood at this point. Lungs too small as you tried to get enough air in to combat the pain, to keep from jerking away or squirming at the wrong moment. Almost there almost there almost there. Four more cuts, one more swipe of alcohol, and you were done.

Fuck, fuck, you could do this.

One cut. The vertical stem of the “E”. A whimper forced its way out. A tremor went through your body. You desperately clutched at the sheets. Then a horizontal line coming from the bottom of the stem. Pain burned through every muscle, every vein, every atom.

Then the third line.

You couldn’t help it. A cry burst out of you as you arched in pain. Then a hand clamped around your throat, cutting you off mid-sob. You choked. Struggled for air. Writhed.

“You were doing so well,” he hissed in your ear. Even as he sounded angry, he sounded excited, enlivened, as if your failure was just more fuel for his pleasure. “You were so close. You almost did it perfectly. And you messed it up at the last second.”

You clawed at his fingers around your windpipe. Your head swam, pulse pounding like a jackhammer to the skull. And then he let you go. You doubled over, hacking and desperately sucking air in. Even as you struggled to breathe, heat and arousal flooded your system. At this point, what was the threat of death but an aphrodisiac?

“What am I going to do with you, hmm?” You barely heard his words over the sound of your own coughing. Not till fingers were digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look into the lifeless eyes of the contorted, screaming mask. Tears blurred your vision, even as you thought, He loves me. Surely, he loves me. “Now what?” he whispered.

You could guess. Punishment, of some kind. A teasing, delicious, cruel punishment where he got to cum and you didn’t, where he used you like a mindless fucktoy to satisfy his own pleasure and you weren’t allowed to give yourself any release.

“Get down on the ground.”

You instantly crawled off the bed and dropped to your knees. And as you looked up at him, at that pale visage as he stood before you and started unbuckling his belt, anticipation heated your gut and pooled lower down.

What were you if not a loving victim and a perfect plaything?

[iztarshi]

Fandom: tmnt 1987

Prompt: Unresponsive

Notes: AU where the window got Leo. Which then turned into "wouldn't it be funny if 87!Casey somehow had a farmhouse?" and somehow then into "Casey Jones gets bullied by turtles".

-

“So, would you have expected Casey Jones to have a farmhouse?” Raphael says. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, for all he says it like he’s continuing a conversation.

“Nah, dude. I always thought he was feral,” Michalangelo answers.

“You mean homeless?” says Donatello.

“No, no, I think Michelangelo’s got it right,” Raphael says.

Casey Jones growls from the driver’s seat, Splinter clears his throat pointedly, and the three of them chorus, “Sorry.”

April glances back at them from the passenger seat. “Any change?”

Everyone looks to where Leonardo’s limp body is lying, his head cradled in Splinter’s lap against the bumping of the truck.

“None yet,” says Splinter. “We must have patience.”

“We’re here,” Casey says, turning suddenly down a path between trees. The turtles, eager to take their mind off their fallen leader, scramble forward to look over April’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Raphael says. “If I had expected Casey Jones to own a farmhouse, that’s exactly what I would have expected.”

The farmhouse is dark and delapidated, a dip in its roof making it look like it’s frowning. It looks like the sort of place where university students have their car break down and then get chased around by a guy in a hockey mask.

Casey Jones, guy in a hockey mask, gets out of the car and comes around to the back. “I’ll carry him,” he offers. He’s not stronger than the turtles, but he’s sure as hell bigger, and he can carry Leonardo in cradled in his arms with Leonardo’s head resting on one broad shoulder.

Inside the farmhouse looks neither like the setting of a slasher movie nor the home of a sane person. There is sports equipment everywhere, much of it broken, and everywhere there isn’t sports equipment there are televisions.

“If the window didn’t kill Leonardo, this dust is going to,” Raphael says.

In the bedroom, which may be Casey’s bedroom since it has a television at the foot of the bed and is not so full of sports equipment no one can reach the bed, Casey goes to lay Leonardo down and is stopped by Raphael.

“These sheets need changing,” he says. “Please tell me you have a linen closet.”

“In the hall, second door down,” Casey says, and hold onto Leonardo while Raphael makes the bed. Afterwards Raphael heads out with a pile of dirty linen in his arms, the other two turtles trailing him. Michelangelo pauses in the doorway and runs back to squeeze Leonardo’s hand one last time before going.

Splinter pulls a chair up beside the bed and sits down. Casey and April stand looking down at Leonardo.

“He’s small,” Casey says. “Especially for someone who’s pinned Casey Jones before.”

“Can I take a picture?” April asks. When Splinter looks questioningly at her she adds, “It might make going back easier if there’s public sympathy for the little guys.”

Splinter slowly shakes his head. “No. I do not think Leonardo would want to be seen like this.”

They look at the turtle, bruised and almost grey against the cover, and then Casey Jones turns and walks out.

In the basement of the farmhouse Donatello is taking apart a television to mend the washing machine. Raphael is sitting on the washing machine complaining about not being able to do the laundry, how can Casey Jones own a farmhouse with thirteen televisions and no washing machine? Michelangelo is poking through the piles of sports equipment to see if there’s something interesting.

Casey Jones enters with a bellowed, “Destruction of property!” and Raphael slides off the washing machine to square up.

“Listen, bub,” Raphael says. “You’ve already got more televisions than anyone needs. I normally leave this sort of declaration to Leonardo but I will defend this washing machine with my life.”

Casey aims a blow at Raphael’s head, Raphael drops to all fours to duck and trips Casey in the process — getting an exclamation of dismay from Donatello who he nearly lands on. Casey rolls back onto his feet, nearly gets pinned with a sai through the sleeve, and then lifts Raphael up to throw him and hesitates with the turtle dangling in the air.

“A little help here?” Raphael says to Michelangelo.

Michelangelo shrugs, “It’s his house.”

Raphael swings one leg up as if to kick and then drops it again.

“Look,” says Donatello, “I can either fix the television up again or fix the washing machine. But they’re both going to be broken beyond repair if you fight on top of them.”

“Okay, fine,” Raphael says, looking up at Casey. “It’s your house, you pick what gets fixed.”

Casey Jones puts the turtle down and looks away. “Fix the washing machine.”

Raphael hops back onto the washing machine and leans forward to tap the centre of Casey’s mask the way he’d tap his friends’ beaks. “Good choice. We can do your laundry too once it’s fixed.”

“No need,” says Casey.

“Trust me,” says Raphael. “There really is.”

-

It’s a sunny day. Outside a bunch of makeshift washing lines are strung between the gnarled and ominous trees. Inside the house Michelangelo and Donatello are sweeping with a brooms made out of hockey sticks with bunches of twigs tied to them. Raphael, perched on Casey’s shoulders, is dusting the ceiling with a feather duster made out of a lacross stick with a bunch of shuttlecocks tied to it.

“Never springcleaned before,” Casey says.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Raphael answers. “What’s with all the sports equipment, anyway?”

“I like sports.”

“Not enough to play it with thirty hockey sticks at once.”

“Do you like baseball?” Donatello asks. “I’m pretty good at that. We could have a game later.”

Casey is quiet for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I played.”

“Aw, jeez, now we’ve got to play,” Raphael says, leaning outward to get a cobweb and, coincidentally, resting a hand on Casey’s head to balance.

Michelangelo leans his broom against the wall. “I’m going to cook us some lunch,” he says. The kitchen, the first room they tackled, is sparkling clean and empy of sports equipment now.

After lunch they play baseball, slightly hindered by the rules being a bit unclear with only four players and Casey yelling about “rulebreakers!” with exactly as much passion as he yells about lawbreakers. It’s still a pretty good time. They can almost forget, until dinner, that Leonardo is lying upstairs, pale and unresponsive.

April has to go back to the city, the news waits for no woman, and her departure leaves things feeling more empty and hopeless than ever. The turtles try to keep themselves busy. Casey’s house has never been cleaner and Casey himself does jobs like fixing the squeaky doors and the leaking gutters that he could presumably have done all along. But now he does them with turtles giving advice, fetching tools for him and heckling.

-

It’s one evening as they’re watching the Dirty Harry movies to please Casey that Splinter’s shout rings through the house, “My turtles!”

They scramble up the stairs in a panic, clinging to one another’s hands and to Casey Jones, afraid of what they’ll find when they reach the top. But in the bedroom Leonardo is sitting up, pale and weak, but trying very hard to smile. They throw themselves onto the bed, trying to be gentle and to hold him all at once.

“Where is this?” Leonardo asks, as he wraps his arms around all of them.

“This is Casey Jones’ farmhouse,” Splinter informs him. “He has been kind enough to let us stay here while you recovered.”

Leonardo blinks. “Casey owns a farmhouse?”

“That’s what we said,” chorus the turtles.

“But y’know,” Raphael adds. “It’s not actually too bad.”

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | kisses!

info;

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i hope to do a first meeting and kisses post for all ton of slashers, so let me know who else you wanna see! there’s already some i swapped out between the two posts just because of ideas i already had

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> this brat is always begging for kisses

> he’s not really one to physically initiate

> and it’s secretly because he loves when you follow his orders

> but he loves all kinds of kisses, and he’s usually content with more chaste ones

> when you do make out though, he is sloppy

> he’s still so touch starved and sensitive

> so it can go from just a long peck to him panting and huffing surprisingly quickly

> and he likes when you praise him for it

> he loves when you pin his hands while you kiss him, laying beneath you as you straddle his chest

> but he loves pawing at you almost as much- in the same position of course

> loves receiving marks

> especially hickies on his neck, like a dumb horny teen

Micheal Myers

> he’s not huge on kissing, or other non-sexual contact

> he’ll make you ask for it

> sometimes even beg

> and then he’ll roll up his mask and kiss you, rough and breathless

> he’s a biter, on your lips, neck, anywhere

> and the more you whine the more he marks you

> all that being said

> he loves when you kiss the mask

> you can swear you’ve heard him groan a bit from it before

> he’ll feel you up as you do too, making it hot and heavy despite how one sided the contact is

> he loves grabbing your throat, pushing you against the wall and kissing you so hard it stuns you

> sometimes to get what he wants, because he’s a malewife manipulator

> but sometimes because he loves the hazy eyed face you make as he pulls away

Thomas Hewitt

> oh my god loves when you kiss him

> forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kisses through the mask, kisses pressed to his jaw, etc etc

> hell you lean over and kiss his arm and he’s giddy- in his silent and almost unnoticeable way

> he loves kissing your neck in particular

> partially because he can hide- the insecurity is hard to shake

> but also because he loves coaxing pretty noises out of you

> freaks out when he leaves marks- but also loves the way you bruise after you reassure him it’s okay

> he loves when you lie on top of him, lazily kissing him between giggles

> it makes you seem so small (because gd, he’s 6’9 and built like a brick house), and he can grab your ass all he wants

Bubba Sawyer

> might be the Biggest Kiss Enjoyer out there

> he loves giving kisses all over!!!

> but especially loves peppering your face with kisses until you’re giggling too hard to let him continue

> he also loves getting kisses, because ofc

> he likes when you kiss his tummy, on top of everything else he can be insecure about his build

> and his hands- chances are y’all also have a huge size difference, and he’s always in awe of how little your cheek is in his hand. so he loves when you lean and kiss his palm

> his favorite kisses are when he picks you up and twirls you around

> and then he settles you in his arms and kisses you sweetly

> not too sexual but intimate

Billy Lenz

> this guy 🙄 in a word, frantic

> there is no peck on the lips with Billy Lenz

> whatever your intention, if you don’t pull away literally immediately, it’s getting dirty fast

> he’s all tongue and teeth and giggles

> like Brahms he’s incredibly pent up

> but baby boy is unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) aggressive

> marks you up like it’s his job- hickies and bites and even sometimes bruises from holding your hips too hard because he’s stronger than he looks

> grabs your hair and tugs your head back to look at you and tell you how pretty you look and babble weird incoherent shit

> he loves you in his lap, facing him and practically grinding up on you as he lick lick licks your neck and any other skin he can between kisses

[ciaossu-imagines]

How about Mashle for the slasher AU casting?

Send me an X and 5 characters and I’ll tell you who would be:

The Survivor

Obviously this one is going to be Mash. Not only is he the main character of the movie, and we all know that in classic slasher fashion, the main character always survives, but it’s just so hard for me to imagine any situation where Mash dies. He gets out of all these really insane situations just through muscle power alone. There’s definitely a scene where the killer is chasing him and Mash just picks up something that should be highly implausible for him to be able to pick up (let’s put this in a school setting; the killer is chasing him through the halls of a school and Mash just picks up a vending machine like it’s fucking nothing and chucks it at the killer) and then you see the killer just barely dodge it but the killer is kind of just standing there in shock. You hear a ‘what the fuck’ from behind the mask and then the killer turns around and runs away because they don’t really want to deal with that shit. They still want to try to kill Mash, but they’re going to find other opportunities where they won’t be as likely to die – maybe get him into a place where there’s less dangerous projectile’s.

The Culprit

Going to go with something obvious but still very fitting for the Mashle fandom. The main culprit is still Innocent Zero. I say main because Innocent Zero is someone who likes to get others to do the dirty work for him. He is very charismatic and he’s able to get people on his side. He builds something almost cult-like, with people willingly, slavishly under him and those people under him all wear the same mask and costume so that it looks like it’s all one killer. However, as Mash and his friends keep taking down costumed would-be killers, it becomes more clear that there’s plenty of these fucks and the big mystery of the movie is finding who is really behind all this and having the final show-down with them.

The First Victim

The first victim actually opens up the movie. It happens before we even meet Mash and his friends, something to really set the scene and introduce the killer. You see Claude Lucci in a classroom, a female student with him (let’s say Lauren Cabasse). There’s some obvious hanky-panky going on between this teacher and his student, where he’s leveraging some kind of physical relationship in exchange for her getting good grades. The camera pulls back, letting us know that we’ve been seeing all the lead-up through the school and this scene through the masked killer’s eyes. The killer sneaks up behind Lauren, who is on her knees in front of Claude, who has his head thrown back and his eyes closed. In a brutal killing, the killer cuts Lauren’s throat so deeply that she’s decapitated in a second. It takes a moment before Lucci realizes what happens but when he does, there’s a lot of screaming, a lot of panicking and trying to get up and run away. Caught with his pants down, he trips over himself, giving the killer the opportunity to slowly stab him, over and over and over again.

The One Who Almost Made It

While Mash won’t be the only person to make it out alive, there’s a couple characters who survive a lot longer than you thought they would and that you end up really starting to root for. You become almost convinced that they’re going to survive the entire time. Tom is definitely that character in my mind. He’s silly and fun, but strong enough that you become convinced he might actually make it. In the last half-hour though, he dies in a surprise scene, protecting the others. It’s very touching, but with just a hint of comedy due to an amazing final line from him that will go on to become a meme among the fans of the movie.

The Comic Relief

It’s a strong tie between Dot and Lemon. Both of them are so over-the-top as people, in different ways, and they’ll provide some of the most iconic lines of the movie. I think some watchers, when it comes to Lemon, will end up hating her though, despite how funny she can be, and will cheer when she dies. When Dot appears to die though, everyone is pissed.

The Genre Savvy

Finn is definitely the genre savvy in the movie. And it’s not that he’s even genre savvy because he’s not. He hates horror movies. He’s the type of person who hides behind his hands or a pillow while watching them or finds excuses to leave the room while watching them – oops, they’re out of popcorn, he needs to go get some more, or he needs to use the bathroom. Horror movies terrify him and make him want to cry. It’s more that he’s the genre savvy because he has the most common sense. There’s a killer loose, praying on the students of the school, and everyone decides that they’ll wander around the school in the dark, way after-hours? Finn has enough sense to be like ‘this is a really, really, REALLY stupid idea, we’re all going to die’. Someone wants to have a massive, unsupervised party while all this is going on? Obviously that’s a recipe for disaster and Finn is going to call that. There’s actually going to be some suspicion, with how often he calls the fact that someone will die, that he's the killer but really, he just has more than two brain cells to rub together.

The Pretty One

It’s Ryoh Grantz, who in this AU appears as the detective in charge of investigating all these murders that are happening. He definitely has a shirtless scene, just to show off his beauty even more, where he offers his shirt to Lemon, who had had her shirt slashed in such a way to offer fanservice. He’s definitely pretty front and center on all advertising material, despite dying before the movie ends, just to draw in more people by capitalizing on his beauty.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bloody Valentines

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Young Justice 98, Titans, GL Corps, Legion of Super Heroes, Flashfam, New Gods

Summary: 90s vampire slasher AU

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Dick Grayson, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Charley Parker, Zatanna, Eddie Bloomberg, Daniel Cassidy, Chester Williams DC, Guy Gardner, Kyle Rayner, Lilith Clay, Raven Roth, Kole Weathers, Bette Kane, Donna Troy, Roy Harper, Jenni Ognats, Bart Allen, Virgil Hawkins, Richie Foley, Ayla Ranzz, Zoe Saugin, Rol Purtha, Darla Aquista, Lori Zechlin, Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan II, Orion DC, Lightray DC

Relationships: DickJoey, Daniel Cassidy/Zatanna, Jenni Ognats/Virgil Hawkins, Raven/Lilith Clay

Additional Tags: POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator(s), Vampires, No Capes AU, 90s Slasher AU, Homoeroticism, Horror, Slasher

Chapter Two: The Premonition (Charley's POV)

I sat on the roof, smoking while I waited for Jason to page me. He didn't like me smoking around him, so I tried to smoke before and after we hung out. I gave myself enough time to shower and change clothes if I needed to. He never complained, but I knew he preferred I didn't smell like I just smoked a bowl when we hung out.

I met him through Eddie a few years back, and he seemed chill. A little weird, but we were all kind of strange. I was new to Jersey, but he welcomed me in and made me feel like I fit in there, even though I didn't. I didn't stay on the roof long because it was freezing out.

I showered and changed clothes before grabbing my keys to head out. Jason came in the door with an empty suitcase. "We're going," Jason announced, "We're going to Happy Harbor this weekend."

I burped smoke and apologized before plopping on the couch. Jason said a lot of weird crap, but I chalked that up to brain damage. He'd been having premonitions about his brother, and he told me something loomed just outside the gates of the immortal. I didn't know what it meant, but I don't think he did either. Jason washed his hands and poured a glass of milk. "Why are we going to Happy Harbor?" I asked.

"Because my brother is at the center of the disturbance... And he's going. Do you wanna come?" Jason asked. I shrugged and nodded. "Do you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll come... Jason, did you sleep here last night, man?" I asked. He shook his head. Sometimes he didn't sleep, and he'd drive around. He'd been like that since I met him. I met him in the kitchen, took a frozen pizza out of the fridge, and slapped it onto a pan. Jason sighed and took the pizza out of the box before placing it in the oven.

Most people would think two people like us shouldn't live together, but I think I reminded him of somebody. And I liked having somebody around that didn't treat me like a freak. He also didn't lose it when he walked in on me with some guy I met, in flagrante delicto, as one of the Sisters of Mercy would call it. I call it the Lotus.

Actually, that was recent. I tried to hide the fact that I preferred to drive a stick from time to time, but it was always hard to hide it from the people I lived with. Jason was different, though. When the guy left, I collected myself and tried to explain, but he shrugged it off and said he'd seen worse. So, sue me if I don't judge the guy for his hallucinations.

"I drove up to Blüdhaven to see my brother. He got in right before I got ready to leave. I waited for him all night... You should probably start packing tonight. We leave tomorrow morning so we can beat my brother there," Jason mumbled. I sat down and pulled my hair into a bun.

I didn't tell him what to do unless I thought he was doing something dangerous, so I didn't give him my opinion on the whole vacation thing. Besides, I wanted to get out of Gotham for the weekend, and Happy Harbor sounded like a relaxing vacation spot. "Jay, what's the weather like?" I asked. I laughed involuntarily and ran a hand over my face to pull myself together.

"It's in Rhode Island, so I imagine it's freezing. The hottest it gets up there is eighty," Jason answered, "And it's the middle of fall, so I wouldn't bank on it being a nice sunny seventy out there."

I forgot how sarcastic he could be when he wasn't having premonitions. I didn't hate it, though. I think that was his way of telling people he was okay. Jason wasn't a touchy-feely emotional guy, but neither was I, so it worked. "Your brother's gonna be okay," I whispered. I didn't have any siblings, so I didn't understand all the feelings surrounding him and his brother. Whenever I saw them together, I thought they hated each other.

"I got you a suitcase... Charley, remember to pack. We leave at six tomorrow morning," Jason explained. I zoned out after that, but I think he was monologuing. I came to when I smelled the pizza he'd taken out of the oven, and I watched as Jason took a slice for himself. I blinked hard and started eating.

There was something so sensual about the first bite of food after a smoke. I shut my eyes and made a soft noise as I ate the crust first. Jason chuckled. He didn't like me smoking, but he got a kick out of me eating after a smoke. "I've never seen anyone eat a pizza ass first before," Jason laughed.

"Listen-." I fell into a fit of laughter mid-sentence. "Ass first?"

"Yeah, because the crust fucking sucks. No one eats the worst part first," Jason cracked up. I hate to say it, but he was cute when he smiled. I always wanted to go there with Jason because he felt safe, but I never got any indication that he was anything other than straight. Besides, it never would've worked. Jason had a lot going on in his head, and I did too. He was a for life type, and I was more of a for the night type. I was bummed after that because I stopped laughing and returned to my large pizza in silence. About an hour after I ate, I took a nap and packed for our trip.

Jason took his shower and fell asleep on the couch, where he talked in his sleep. I tried to ignore it because some of the stuff he said in his sleep made me feel paranoid. But this time, it was different. Worse. Jason tossed and turned on the couch so roughly that I sat on the floor in front of him to keep him from falling. He grabbed my shoulder in his sleep and scared the shit out of me. "Stay out of the water. Stay out," Jason moaned, "Charley. The water." A chill ran up my spine, and he shot up, panting as he searched around the room.

"Jason... Jason," I whispered as I grabbed his wrist. "Jason, are you-."

Jason jumped off the couch and into my arms. I never saw him that emotional before. It freaked me out. "Please don't swim this weekend, Charley. Promise me you won't swim," Jason begged. I hesitantly rubbed his back to calm him down, but I was as scared as he was. Jason held on so tight my back cracked. Oh yeah, I forgot to say the dude was jacked. Thick neck, giant biceps, built like a fucking tank.

"If I promise to stay away from the water this weekend, will you let go of me?" I asked. Jason let go and nodded. He had to pull himself together, but I was still spooked. "I promise... And next time you call my name like that in your sleep, I'm gonna need you to take me out to dinner, Kid." Jason chuckled and shook his head. "Why'd you want me to come with you tomorrow? Be real with me."

"We'll all be together... I think we'll be alright if we stay together," Jason whispered. He stood up and walked away before hiding his face in his hands. "I've never had one that vivid before... Charley, please don't forget what you promised me... Please don't forget."

I felt terrible for him. Eddie said he wasn't always like that. Before the accident, Eddie said he wasn't as fearful. Everyone warned me not to listen to his delusions or feed into them, but his instincts were good, and he'd never been wrong before about the normal-sounding stuff. It was more than reasonable for me to believe that staying out of the water in an area where it'd be freezing out was a solid warning.

Jason paced back and forth by the fire escape, and my hands shook as I tried to pull myself together for him. We couldn't both be scared. I owed it to him to be the brave one for once. If I owed anybody anything, it was Jason. "Jason, c'mere. Stop-. Stop pacing and look for a minute. Nothing's gonna happen to me because I'm gonna listen to you," I reassured him. Jason nodded, but I could see his mind was already made up. He looked like he wanted to cry. It was like I was already gone. I'd never seen him like that. It was weird and fucked up, and I dreaded the trip ahead. I was so fucked up over it that I couldn't even think to smoke. Instead, I decided to keep my head straight until we got to the Harbor on Saturday. I thought it'd give us both some peace of mind. Still, I didn't think Jason would sleep after that. There was no way. And there was no way he'd be able to drive on forty-five minutes of sleep. Relaxing trip, my ass.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching 2023: March

This year is already moving way too fast, istg. Between watching the radar for tornadoes and getting reasonably stoned on cold meds, this is coming in late, but oh well.

The Last Of Us

ALL HAIL PIANO FROG! I'm not a gamer, so I have no prior attachment to the source material. I only started watching after seeing my dash blow up with gif sets and the like. That being said, I have no regrets. The performances and the production values are great, and I cried on several occasions. Bonus points for using Pearl Jam in the soundtrack. The pacing is a little uneven sometimes, but it's not such a big deal it detracted from what I enjoyed. My only other gripe is that the season was so. Effing. Short.

Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil

A friend recommended this to me years ago, then I recommended it to a different friend, and we had a blast watching it. If you're not in the know, this one is a horror comedy dealing with stereotypes and the assumptions people make about each other, and a LOT of miscommunication and misunderstanding. Think of it like Three's Company, but a slasher. In hindsight, it's hard to think this came from the mid 2000's, when the genre was full to capacity with the stereotypes this film calls out. And maybe I'm overthinking a movie where half the cast gets killed off in increasingly idiotic accidents, but at the end of the day, I had a good time watching. And that's good enough for me.

New Nightmare

First of all, isn't she pretty? 😍 Second of all, I'm saving the majority of my thoughts for later, but out of the franchise as a whole, this one is somewhere in the top three.

This Is Where I Leave You

I would never have chosen to watch this of my own accord, as it's outside of my usual preferences, but I kinda liked it anyway. Funny, sad, and sweet, and it didn't end the way you probably would expect. Bonus points for using Pearl Jam in the soundtrack.

Scream (2022)

We'll have to agree to disagree, Sidney.

The Phantom of the Opera (1989)

TWO distinct fandoms are sleeping on this one, and it's a damn shame. Phantom fans, this is the only adaptation to actually include the violin in the cemetery! (It's a sore point for a lot of us...) Slasher lovers, it's Robert frickin Englund! Literally everyone else, if you don't like POTO or horror, it's still on point with the music and the cinematography, and is generally underrated, IMO.

Greenland

We are finally, FINALLY, a Gerard Butler household. 🤣 I favor his dramas over the action flicks he's been doing the last few years, and this is more drama than action, so...yay? I'm not a huge fan of disaster movies in general, but I honestly think this would have worked better as a miniseries. It felt rushed and underwhelming at the same time, and yet the potential is there. On the other hand, Gerry finally, FINALLY, gets to use his own accent.

Beetlejuice

I've seen this one several times over in bits and pieces over the course of three decades, but only straight through and from beginning to end once. Well, twice now. I grew up on the animated series, tho, so while I've cooled off on Tim Burton, I'll always have a soft spot for Beetlejuice.

Shadow and Bone

I haven't seen any book fans throwing too much of a fit about season two, but I'm sure they're out there. Granted, I blew through all of it in one day and a lot of it is a blur, but I appreciate the deviations. They pulled my attention back whenever I zoned out, and I'm more excited for season three (if we get one, because Netflix) to see how the rest of the story pans out.

Glass Onion

You know why I hate most mysteries and detective dramas? They all take themselves soooooooooo seriously. There is always a ton of extra baggage to unpack from one case to the next, and I'm getting to really dislike series that require you to sit through EVERYTHING to know what's going on. I love this one because it doesn't do that. It's fun, dammit! Everyone has already picked this one apart and yelled over the good bits, and all I have to add to the noise is that watching this movie felt like being a kid reading the Sherlock Holmes stories for the first time, or watching Miss Marple episodes on PBS with my grandparents. It's going on my list of comfort movies, and it's going to stay there.

Leverage

Speaking of comfort, I'm a season into my umpteen hundredth rewatch of my number one comfort show. And planning on catching up with the reboot once I'm done! What's not to love about a bunch of modern day Robin Hoods taking down corrupt officials and billionaires? Bonus points for featuring Mark Sheppard for best recurring character (again).

It Chapter Two

Strangely enough, this is a rewatch, which would have been unheard of not too long ago, as far as anything Pennywise related goes. Even stranger, it put me in the mood to revisit Doctor Sleep. Strangest yet, I already want to do a double feature. 😂

Kung Fu Panda

Don't act like you don't love this movie. It's fucking brilliant.

###

This has gone on long enough, so I guess we'll meet back here next month!

[buckets-and-trees]

so hi

me skipping the warnings and only reading the A/N:

me literally having next to no background with slasher movies and NEVER having heard of The Final Girls:

but you know me - I'm a self-proclaimed slut for almost everything you write! 🙃

Okay, perfect way to set up this premise! Totally love the creativity there!

Bahahahaha I died! 🤭 Literally licking the screen! Because... why not?

As someone who notoriously ....... forgets to set the scene so often, this was gorgeous imagery and fully transported us into the sight, sound, and smell of it all!

I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I LOVE PERFECTLY INCORPORATED CANON ELEMENTS INTO ALTERNATE UNIVERSES, AND THE SECOND YOU CRUSHED HIS ARM IN THE CAROUSEL, MY BRAIN STARTED TO PURRRRRR BECAUSE I KNEW WHERE YOU WERE GOING WITH IT! (and 🫣 later when he's fucking the reader in the basement and she notices his arm is gone and so his other arm is bearing more weight/he's leaning more on her OH MY GOD, VISCERAL, AND JFO;AFJAJN)

I mean... *dissolves into giggles*

Yes.

But then as silly/indulgent of a moment as that was, these two paragraphs immediately grip us and pull us back into the horror scene in two seconds flat!

Definitely giggled again here.

We love a reader with critical thinking skills! 🤭

Okay, once we really get going with Bucky, my mind just couldn't stop to take more notes, except this! THIS made my jaw literally drop in the moment! The jab of terror but in the height of smut! I bow to your greatness in a scene!

But yes. Honestly. My mind had to race to the double endings!

And, because.... duh...

you KNOW I indulged in both!

Basement wife? Chilling but also the dark pussy fluttering - especially that ring! And what I mentioned earlier about his missing arm.

(Ack! Which reminds me I also forgot to mention how my brain fritzed out when you had the reader work his shoulder wound to get away and to push him into feral mode for the chase!)

But then....

Molly! The way you went from dark slasher and dark dark basement back to "real life" for the reader and gave this most adorable meet cute! And then topped twisting the made up slasher Bucky AU into a fandom thing within your AU?

YOU. ARE. A. CREATIVE. GODDESS.

But really. The other thing I love about this is that it shows the breadth of your range in tone and genre. Brava, my dearest Molly! This is a stunning piece of work!

🔪 Slasher 🔪 Choose Your Own Ending

pairing: DARK horror movie villain!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, typical horror movie violence (blood, murder, some gruesome descriptions), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, unsafe sadist/masochist dynamic (reader is into it but there are no safe words), dry humping, knife kink, size kink, chase kink, oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, rough body play, light spanking, choking, breath play, bratting/brat taming (reader is slightly unhinged), dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, boot riding, dacryphilia, pet names (cottontail, baby), reader passes out during sex, possessive behavior

word count: 13.3k total (11.6k with only the dark ending; 11.9k with only the fluffy ending)

a/n: i really didn't know if i'd be able to finish this fic in time for the end of my Slasher Summer challenge because it's probably one of the most ambitious fics i've ever attempted. it's loosely inspired by the movie The Final Girls (highly recommend) but i couldn't decide how i wanted it to end, so y'all get TWO ENDINGS!! both are included here, with additional warnings down below. i worked really hard on this, so i really hope y'all enjoy!!! 😅

The last thing you remembered was the feel of fuzzy static on your tongue, fizzling through your arms and legs and making you feel like every nerve ending in your body was buzzing to life. You had a vague memory of licking something you probably shouldn’t have, but then your ears popped and you felt solid ground beneath your feet.

Staticky silence was suddenly replaced by shrill screams of excitement and the mechanical whirring of carnival rides. The rich scents of funnel cakes and popcorn and cotton candy filled your nose, making your mouth water with the desire to eat your weight in fried food.

Blinking your eyes open—not remembering when you’d closed them—you were met with the entrance to the Bakersfield Fun Fair. The big banner declaring the name of the carnival sparked a hazy recognition deep in your mind, but when you looked around, you didn’t quite recognize where you were, and you had no memory of how you’d gotten there. 

Still, something about the fairground, with its ticket booth and carnival rides and all kinds of stalls selling food or touting games to play for prizes, felt familiar. Like you’d seen it in a dream, or when you were a child the memory was a distant thing. 

Muggy summer air brushed against your skin with a soft breeze that helped to alleviate the worst of the heat, the air holding a hint of chill as the sun set on the distant horizon. It cast everything you could see, which was mainly just the carnival and the grassy field being used for a parking lot, in a golden glow. 

Finally, it occurred to you to look down at yourself, finding that you were wearing cutoff jean shorts and a plain tank top—neither of which you recognized. 

The confusion you’d held at bay suddenly overwhelmed you, making you feel as dizzy as if you’d just ridden the tilt-a-whirl, which you somehow knew was nestled somewhere in the fairgrounds. Your stomach lurched as your mind tried to make sense of where you were and how you’d gotten there. You closed your eyes and tried to think. 

As you concentrated, memories began to surface in your mind, like you were dragging them up from the depths of a deep, murky lake. 

It wasn’t summer. It was fall, you remembered, and just moments before you’d been curled up on the worn, aged rug in your grandmother’s basement. You were housesitting for her while she was on a cruise. 

You remembered closing your laptop, heaving a huge sigh of relief at finishing work for the day, then going down into the basement. You’d spent countless hours there as a teenager watching movies on the big, boxy TV set, the kind where you could feel the static if you put your hand against the screen. Your favorite movies to watch were the horror ones…

That was it! 

That was why Bakersfield and the carnival seemed so familiar. Bakersfield was the small town terrorized by the ruthless villain in your favorite horror movie, Slasher, and the final act’s killing spree took place at the town’s annual end of summer carnival. The Bakersfield Fun Fair.

And the villain was Bucky Barnes, a psychotic killer with a sadistic sense of humor and piercing blue eyes. 

You’d had a crush on him when you’d first watched Slasher as a teenager, and your attraction to him remained even well into your adult years. You’d decided to put the movie on because you’d been lonely at your grandmother’s, figuring a night with your favorite horror movie slasher would be the closest thing to a date you could get.

Once you remembered that, the rest of it came back to you. You’d been curled up on the rug in front of the TV, and your favorite scene had come on. It was the one where Bucky is cleaning a bullet wound in his shoulder—given to him by the movie’s mean girl, right before he brutally stabs her in the head—and he had his shirt off, showing the broad expanse of his muscled chest.

It hadn’t been your finest moment, but you were lonely and you got it into your head to lick the screen of the TV over Bucky’s bare chest. And then, that was it. That was all you remembered—and the feeling of static on your tongue.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at the banner again. You blinked. And blinked again. Then you pinched yourself. You didn’t wake up. 

The sign still read Bakersfield Fun Fair. But…that was impossible.

Your jaw went slack as you looked around—really looked at your surroundings.

In the time that you’d spent figuring out where you were, the sun had dipped behind the tops of the trees in the forest beyond the fairground, turning the sky pink and orange, fading into a deep cerulean. There was a ferris wheel in the distance, and the canopy top of a carousel off to the side. 

There were lines of stalls stretching in both directions beyond the entrance to the fair, some with ring toss games and others with milk bottles to be knocked over. Other stalls were selling all kinds of junk food, from cotton candy to candy apples. 

Everything looked and sounded and smelled real. You could practically taste the funnel cake on your tongue, and feel the powered sugar-covered fried dough melting in your mouth. You could clearly see the faces of all the people milling around the fair, kids breaking off with hands clasped tight around their tickets as they went running down the various rows of stalls. 

And the closer you looked, the more realized everything was dated. The clothes, the rides, the toy prizes. Everything looked like it was from the early 90s, when Slasher was made. Even your own clothes and the tennis shoes on your feet looked like they were out of the 90s. 

It was bizarre, and yet, it didn’t feel like a dream. But it had to be a dream. Right?

Spinning around in a circle, you decided that had to be the case. It was the only thing that made sense. It’s not like you could’ve been transported into the world of your favorite horror movie. Stuff like that didn’t happen; it broke all rules of physics and other science stuff you didn’t understand.

Deciding to just roll with it and enjoy your dream, you shrugged off your confusion and headed into the Bakersfield Fun Fair. While you meandered down one of the lines of stalls, you wondered if you’d see any of the characters from the movie. You wondered if you’d see Bucky. 

You almost tripped over the grass beneath your feet at the thought, your heart speeding up in your chest and beating excitedly against your rib cage as you considered the possibility of actually meeting your biggest horror movie crush. 

But your mind didn’t stop there. Oh no. You were the girl who’d decided to lick an old, staticky TV because it was the closest you thought you’d ever get to licking Bucky’s bare chest. 

Naturally, your mind took the thought of meeting him much further and you thought about fulfilling one of your most cherished fantasies. If you were in the world of Slasher, you wanted to fuck Bucky Barnes. 

Before you’d ended up at the Bakersfield Fun Fair, in some ultra-realistic dream, the closest you could’ve gotten was finding a guy who looked like Bucky Barnes and try to convince him to wear the Slasher mask while chasing you through the woods. 

But you’d found yourself in the world of your favorite horror movie—whether by way of your subconscious dreaming about it, or some breakdown of the space-time continuum—and you had the chance to fuck the actual Bucky Barnes. Giddy excitement flooded through you, and you began skipping down the line of carnival stalls, trying to remember what exactly happens in the final act of Slasher.

It probably should’ve worried you how unconcerned you were with the possibility that Bucky could kill you before you even got started trying to convince him to fuck you. But it was your dream, so what was the worst that could happen? If he killed you, you’d just wake up horny and dissatisfied, right? Then, you’d have to take care of yourself, which wasn’t any different to any other day of your life.

Nah, you were almost entirely certain you were in a dream, and because it was your dream, you wouldn’t have too much trouble getting Bucky to fuck you. You just had to find him…

As if right on cue, screams erupted from the opposite end of the fairground, and it sparked your memory. The action at the end of Slasher ramps up when Bucky storms the Bakersfield Fun Fair and the final girl, along with the remainder of her friends, try to set a trap for him. 

Trying to hid your giddy grin, you raced through the fairground, heading in the direction of the screams. Since you’d remembered the beginning of the end of the movie, you couldn’t help but think about what else happens. Bucky carves through the final girl’s friends one by one in various, gruesome ways on the carnival rides at the fair. Then, the final girl eventually traps him by crushing his arm in the gears of the carousel. 

Bucky doesn’t die, of course. He comes back in the sequel, Slasher II, and sports a metal arm that glimmers in the moonlight while he stalks the final girl around Bakersfield all over again. It’s not nearly as good as the first movie, but Bucky is still very hot, and you watched the sequel nearly as many times as the original when you were a teenager.

You were so distracted by thoughts of Bucky’s prosthetic arm, and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your throat while he fucked you, that you didn’t realize you were suddenly alone in the fairground, and you’d made it to the Tunnel of Love ride. 

It was then that you spotted the macabre scene of the final girl’s best friend—you couldn’t remember the character’s name, it was something boring like John—with his heart ripped out of his chest and held in his limp, dead hands. His lifeless eyes stared unseeingly ahead, looking almost like a movie prop, but so, so much more real.

This particular kill was one of Slasher’s most controversial, you remembered. Half the cult fandom argued it was too on the nose, since the movie heavily implied John was in love with the movie’s final girl and never found the courage to tell her. The other half of the fandom enjoyed the tragic romance of it. 

Personally, you didn’t care much about the kills or the drama between the final girl and the other characters. You really only watched Slasher for Bucky, and only cared about the creativity of the murders when he looked particularly hot doing them. 

Your mind whirled as you stared at John’s dead body, your brain focusing on the Slasher message boards you’d trawled well into your college years, rather than trying to make sense of the horrible sight in front of you. It really, really looked like real blood soaking his clothes—and you could even smell the coppery tang of it in the air.

Instinctively, you took a step back, the grass of the fairground soft beneath your feet. The sun had slipped fully behind the trees of the forest beyond the fairground, casting long, ominous shadows over the scene. Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you took another step back, as if putting room between you and the horrific sight in front of you would somehow make it easier to reconcile.

You took one more step backward and bumped into something solid, something that you knew deep in your bones shouldn’t be there.

The smell of blood was stronger suddenly, mixing with an earthy, spicy scent that didn’t make sense for the carnival fairground. Holding your breath, you slowly looked over your shoulder and were met with the sight of a black leather-clad chest. 

Already, you knew it was him. But you dragged your eyes up and sucked in a gasp when you met the piercing blue gaze of Bucky Barnes.

His eyes were filled with a cold hatred that was so visceral, it made your stomach twist in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. Inexplicably, warmth bloomed low in your core, unfurling and reacting to the villain’s presence. Finally, you were face to face with your biggest horror movie crush, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to take all of him in.

Bucky Barnes was even bigger and more intimidating than he seemed on your TV screen, and he was more handsome too. His eyes were an electric blue, the color so bright, it seemed like it glowed from within. And his chin-length brown hair fell on either side of his face, highlighting the strong line of his brow and the intensity of his gaze.

The villain’s mouth and nose were covered by the hard plastic mask that matched the utilitarian leather jacket and combat pants he wore with thick, heavy boots. There were straps on the leather jacket that spanned his broad shoulders, and a utility belt around his trim waist where he secured the various knives and weapons he used throughout the movie.

Looking up at his face again, you realized Bucky was so much taller than you expected, standing behind you like a mountain of cold hatred, radiating danger and menace. Unfortunately for you, that only made the heat simmering in your belly burn hotter until you were squeezing your thighs together against the ache building there. 

You knew your body’s reaction to the psychotic murderer was foolish, to say the least, but there was something about the dangerous man that made your heart beat harder, and made you want to spread your legs for him. 

Glancing down to Bucky’s hand, you saw the big butcher’s knife dangling from his fingers. He hadn’t raised it yet, and when you looked back into his eyes, the villain seemed to be watching you closely, as if wondering how you were going to react to him. 

The longer you went without screaming or running away from him, the more his brows lowered over his eyes. He began to look perplexed.

That was fine, you could work with perplexed.

Carefully, as if dealing with an animal you didn’t want to spook, you turned around and set your hands gently on Bucky’s massive chest, your fingertips toying idly with the leather straps on his jacket. Holding his gaze with your own, you slid your hands up to his shoulders and pushed yourself up onto you tiptoes so you could twine your arms around his neck, as if he were your boyfriend and you were welcoming him home.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice coming out breathy as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You fluttered your lashes at Bucky, figuring that if you didn’t treat him like a threat, he wouldn’t be. And so far, it was working.

The horror villain didn’t seem inclined to respond to your shy greeting, so you pressed yourself close to him, enjoying the feel of his hard body against your soft one. Arching your spine, you pushed your tits up in your tank top, as if offering them to him. 

You were gratified when Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lightly heaving chest, and felt his empty hand twitch against your bare thigh, like he wanted to touch you but was holding himself back. Not that you needed him to touch you to know he was enjoying the feel of you against him.

Bucky’s bulge was already digging into your lower stomach, and you suspected he’d already been hard before you’d pressed against him. But still, you were gratified when, every time you shifted against him, he twitched in his pants, his cock eagerly responding to you. 

The interest of Bucky’s cock had a smile spreading across your face, making you look like the cat who got the cream as you tipped your head back and grinned shamelessly up at the horror movie villain.

“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you purred, rocking your body against Bucky’s bulge and pressing your chest more tightly to his leather jacket. You were practically rubbing on him like a cat in heat, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It felt too good to feel his solid, sturdy form against you.

As you shifted closer, you could feel the tackiness of blood on your arms and chest, and when you glanced down, you saw that some had stuck to you from Bucky’s jacket. It was odd to see the blood on your skin, but it felt like another reminder of what you were doing—and, especially, who you were doing it with. 

Fire was blazing through your veins as you cast your hooded eyes on Bucky’s face, your mouth going soft as you met his piercing gaze. There was a cold flame in the depths of his blue eyes, one you’d never seen in all the times you’d watched Slasher, and it filled you with pride to realize Bucky liked having you pressed against him. 

In response to your question, which you’d almost forgotten in the seconds after it passed your lips, Bucky huffed a laugh behind his mask. Then his hands were on your ass, and he was grabbing your soft flesh with an unyielding grip. He hiked you up higher against his chest, using his inhuman strength, and your legs fell open instinctively, so his thick bulge dug into the juncture of your thighs. 

A wanton moan fell from your lips, your head falling back as you rocked your hips in tiny circles, grinding on Bucky’s hard cock through your clothes. You could feel the flat steel of his knife pressed to the back of your thigh, and your core pulsed at the weapon’s proximity to your most sensitive place, but you didn’t have any worry he was going to use it on you—not when he was staring at you with such a greedy look in his eyes.

Bucky growled out, “Dumb slut,” as his fingers dug into your ass through your jean shorts, but you were too distracted by humping against the mountain of a man, pleasure swirling through your body and filling your head with cotton candy nothing. 

All that mattered was grinding against Bucky’s bulge, and the fact that you were finally—finally—getting to live out your darkest fantasies of fucking the horror movie villain.

“Y’know, I always wondered if killing made your cock hard,” you murmured breathlessly, catching Bucky’s eye and giving him a cheeky grin. “Guess I have my answer now.” You dragged the seam of your shorts up the thick length of Bucky’s cock, drawing a growl from him, your smile spreading wider. “Unless you just have a soft spot for dumb sluts like me,” you said, giggling at your own joke and batting your lashes at him.

Bucky shook his head at you, but not like he was disagreeing with you—more like he was already exasperated with your antics. 

“I thought I already killed this town’s biggest slut,” Bucky ground out, and though you couldn’t see his mouth or jaw, you somehow knew he was grinding his teeth. His fingers dug harder into your ass, his grip nearly punishing as you squirmed against him. 

You found an angle that had your clit rubbing against the tip of Bucky’s cock through your clothes and you let your head fall back, a filthy moan spilling from your lips. The obscene sound rose toward the darkening sky above the fairgrounds, loud against the silence that had fallen over the deserted carnival.

When you managed to get control of your tongue again, and pick up the thread of your conversation, you shot Bucky another grin.

“I’m not from Bakersfield,” you purred, pulling yourself closer to Bucky’s face, until your lips were nearly brushing against the hard plastic of his mask. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, gusting through the slots on the front, making you shiver. Your expression settled into one of fake seriousness as you stared him in the eye. “And you have no idea how much of a slut I can be.”

A growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and his blue eyes narrowed on you, like a predator deciding on its prey. 

“Is that a challenge or an invitation, little cottontail?”

He slapped your ass with the flat of his knife, an obvious instruction to keep humping against him. 

As you followed the order, you choked out a one word answer, “Both!” Then bit your lip against a moan, hiding your delight at the nickname—and your surprise that Bucky would call you anything so sweet. 

But you didn’t seem to be grinding against him hard enough, because he dragged the sharp edge of his knife over the backs of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your ass. He didn’t press hard enough to break skin, but you could feel the threat in the gesture.

You lost the battle against trembling in the big, horror movie villain’s arms, and whimpered, rocking against him harder as a single tear leaked down your cheek. Pleasure was pulsing through your body, hard and fast, the same rhythm in which your heart beat in your chest.

Bucky rumbled a sound of pleasure, his blue eyes going molten as he watched the tear track down your face. He seemed to have forgotten your conversation entirely, more focused on your smaller body humping against his larger one.

You had long since soaked through your panties, and you could feel your arousal leaking through your shorts, coating your inner thighs in your wetness. But dry humping with Bucky wasn’t what you had in mind when you’d fantasized about the horror movie villain through most of your adult years. You needed more, and you had just the idea—a fantasy you’d long wanted to fulfill. With Bucky Barnes especially.

“I know you’re sort of busy, killing and all that,” you huffed, your body straining to keep rocking against his thick length with the speed he desired. “But I was wondering if you might want to take a break and play a game with me?” Your voice was hopelessly breathless and breathlessly hopeful, the pleading in your tone blatant as your words pitched higher with your question. 

Bucky’s brows lowered in confusion. “What kind of game?” came his rumbling, distorted voice from behind his mask.

With a flash of a smirk, you shifted one hand to his shoulder, where you remembered the bullet wound would be beneath his jacket. You could feel the slight raise of the bandages beneath the leather, and you dug your thumb into the spot. You were rewarded by a vicious growl and Bucky’s hands falling away from your ass, the cold steel of his knife disappearing from your skin.

Hopping down, you danced a few feet away from the now-enraged psychopathic killer, making sure you were beyond the reach of his long arms, including the length of his knife before you stopped. Something in your core tightened with excitement when Bucky’s cold, blue eyes focused entirely on you. Even the sight of him shaking out his arm seemed somehow threatening. 

You could see the dark stain of deep red blood in the black leather of his jacket, and couldn’t help but grin. You’d unleashed the darkest side of him, and you couldn’t be more giddy.

You knew Bucky had been holding back on you while you’d been in his arms. But you didn’t want to fuck a horror movie villain because you wanted some harmless dry humping. You wanted him to wreck you. You wanted him to hunt you down and make you his.

“The game is this,” you began, skipping back a few steps when Bucky lunged for you—though you noticed he reached for you with his free hand, rather than his knife, which you took as a good sign and grinned wider. “If you catch me, you can fuck me.” You held his gaze, your smile turning a little feral as you watched the seething villain. “As hard and as rough as you want.”

Your final words made Bucky pause, like a predator going still right before launching itself at its prey. His electric blue eyes shone brighter, reflecting the neon lights of the carnival as they fall across his handsome face. 

You could feel the energy in him shift, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth, you somehow knew he was grinning. You suspected it was even more feral than your own smile.  

“You really are the dumbest fucking slut, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, equal parts humor and menace in his tone, sending a delicious shiver skating down your spine. He took a step forward, his eyes sharp as they watched you skip backward, staying out of reach of his hand and his knife. “You better not let me catch you, baby, because if I do, I’m going to make you scream bloody murder as I split you open with my cock.”

The grin on your face was so wide it was beginning to make your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t wipe it away even if you’d tried. Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline already pumping through your veins as you prepared to run. But you couldn’t help yourself, you had to taunt Bucky just a little more. If you were only going to get one chance to fuck your horror movie villain crush, you were going to make it count.

“Bet you say that to all the girls—bet none of them can scream like me,” you sassed, bouncing on the balls of your feet and scampering back a few more steps when Bucky took another menacing step forward, his big, heavy boot crunching the grass beneath him. 

You laughed at his scowling face, the sound loud and wild in the quiet that had fallen over the fairgrounds. Even the music of the carousel had gone silent. But you couldn’t hold your tongue. You loved the look of danger on Bucky’s face too much.

“You gotta catch me first, Mr. Slasher, then we’ll see if you can make me scream.”

With that parting challenge, you gave Bucky one last cheeky, impertinent smile, and the you turned and took off. 

Sprinting off into the Bakersfield Fun Fair, you didn’t dare look behind you, knowing instinctively that Bucky would be close on your heels. Your mind raced as you tried to form some kind of plan, since you hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

Of course, you had every intention of letting Bucky catch you, but you didn’t want to make it too easy for him. Besides, you’d always wanted to be chased by the hot horror movie villain, then overpowered and taken by the brutal man, so you wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself as well.

As you turned a corner and began running down a row of carnival rides and games on the edge of the fairground, you spotted the funhouse in front of you. Grinning wildly, you pushed to run a little harder and launched yourself up the metal stairs leading into the funhouse.

There was a spinning barrel right away, and you clambered through it, the silence inside the funhouse swallowing you up as you plunged into the depths of the structure. Hauling yourself up a flight of stairs, you stumbled to a stop when you found that the interior of the funhouse was a maze of mirrors.

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you began moving through the maze, your hands outstretched to feel your way between the mirrors. Too soon, you heard Bucky’s heavy footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the level with the maze and you tried to scurry faster, but you kept bumping into mirrors thinking they were a clear path forward.

A deep, dark chuckle echoed through the stuffy room in the funhouse, the sound distorted through Bucky’s mask, making him truly sound like a horror movie villain. 

The sound of his laugh sent a shiver racing down your spine, your heart rate picking up as you heard his heavy boots begin walking through the maze. It seemed like he was moving much faster than you and you tried to pick up your pace.

“When I get my hands on you, little cottontail,” Bucky began, his menacing voice filtering to you easily, sounding like he was right behind you. “You’re going to regret being such a dumb slut—I’m going to destroy your tight holes with my cock and ruin you until you’re all mine.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” you called over your shoulder, just before barreling into another mirror with a defeated, “oof,” as you tried to escape the maze. 

Huffing in frustration, you turned and went down another path, your panicked breaths so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear Bucky’s footsteps anymore. You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but your lungs protested, your pounding heart making you feel the blood pumping through your veins with every step you took.

“If you’re a good slut, maybe I won’t kill you,” Bucky rumbled, his voice definitely closer than it should be, and you whipped around, looking for the source. But he was no where in sight. “Maybe I’ll keep you—chain you up in my basement, and use your body like the fuck hole you were meant to be.”

You tried to ignore the way your pussy quivered at Bucky’s threat, your body wanting him to do exactly that. But you pushed on, though you were having a harder and harder time remembering why you didn’t want him to catch you. Your panties were soaked and your hole was aching to be filled. And Bucky seemed more than willing to fuck you until you were nothing more than the dumb slut he accused you of being.

Rounding a corner, you gasped loudly as the massive form of Bucky Barnes loomed in front of you, his blue eyes immediately finding yours and making you feel like prey trapped by a much larger predator. 

Spinning on the ball of your foot, you turned and tried to escape in the other direction, only to run head first into Bucky’s chest. His arms closed around you, and you belatedly realized the Bucky you’d seen had been a reflection in one of the mirrors. He wasted no time, squeezing you so tight to his body that you cried out, his strength forcing the air from your lungs. You were caught.

“I win, little cottontail,” Bucky sneered, crushing you harder to his chest while you struggled to breathe, your ribs feeling like they were on the verge of snapping.

Then, suddenly, he let you go and you slumped to your knees, your legs giving out as you fell to the metal floor of the funhouse. Your head was spinning from the lack of air and you focused on pulling as much oxygen into your lungs as possible, the adrenaline in your body making you feel your heartbeat in your temples. 

While you were distracted, Bucky quickly worked his pants open and before you knew what was happening, his thick, heavy cock fell on your face with a lewd slapping sound. You flinched. But then Bucky’s musky scent filled your nose, and you relaxed. Warmth spread through your body as your mind went fuzzy for an entirely different reason than lack of oxygen. 

Your mouth fell open instinctively, your head tipping back to press your lips to his girth, and you felt more wetness dripping from your slit between your thighs. 

Bucky chuckled at your obvious submission, but still used the flat tip of his knife to tip your face back further, until it was practically horizontal. He worked his hips languidly, sliding his cock over your face, precum dripping onto your skin and making a mess of your cheeks and forehead.

“Open your mouth wider, dumb slut,” Bucky growled, his eyes glittering in the dim funhouse as he stared down at you. 

When you did as he ordered, sticking your tongue out for good measure, the tip playing with his balls, the horror villain made a pleased sound deep in his chest. You had the distinct impression he was smiling again, and you almost dared to ask him to take off the mask, but decided against it. Part of the fun of fucking Bucky Barnes was him keeping the mask on. 

“Good girl,” Bucky purred, petting your head with his free hand. He dragged his hips back and pushed the leaking head of his dick into your mouth. “Now, suck.”

The metal flooring of the funhouse dug painfully into your knees, but you pushed the pain from your mind as you focused entirely on Bucky’s cock. Wrapping your lips around the head, you sucked gently, the taste of his precum bursting on your tongue. Your chest warmed with pride when he groaned in pleasure.

You’d intended to take your time—wanting to savor Bucky’s cock and learn every inch of the thick, veiny length before making him come in your mouth. But it seemed your horror movie crush didn’t have the patience for that. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised. You did make him chase you. 

“Is that all ya got, little cottontail?” Bucky growled, using the hand on your head to push you down roughly on his cock, making you gag, your hands flailing against his hard thighs. “I thought you were some kind of slut—thought you’d be throating my cock the second you got your lips around it.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks as he pushed deeper with a grunt, your fingers curling into fists against his thighs as you tried to open for him. Bucky’s cock forcing its way into your throat stung a little, and you worked to relax your muscles, but they kept squeezing tight, preventing his hard length from sliding all the way in.

Finally, Bucky pulled his cock free from your mouth and you gasped for breath, a hand massaging your throat, the inside feeling raw already. But Bucky didn’t seem to care. 

He bent down over you, grabbing your face in his free hand and using the sharp end of his knife to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I thought you wanted this, baby,” he rumbled, his tone mocking and patronizing, a laugh in his distorted voice that made you think he was grinning and enjoying your struggle more than he was trying to let on. “You said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want.” He paused to tsk at you. “You can’t even take my cock without gagging—some slut you are.”

Embarrassment and no small amount of humiliation flooded through you, making you pout. OK so maybe you were more of a slut in theory than in practice, but you did want this. And you’d been trying. Couldn’t he see that?

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared up at Bucky, your lips still pursed in a pout. 

“Your cock is too big,” you huffed, a hint of a whine in your voice. “Let me try again.”

Bucky laughed, the sound cold and mean, though that only made your pussy drip even more for him. He patted your cheek patronizingly with his knife before fixing you with a hard look.

“You either take my whole cock in your dumb slut mouth, little cottontail,” he growled, a threat in his tone. “Or I’ll make you take it, ya hear me?”

The menace in his deep voice sent a shiver racing down your spine, settling heavily between your thighs until you had to squeeze them together against the ache in your core. You nodded your understanding. “Yes, sir,” you murmured. 

“Good girl,” came Bucky’s rumbling, terrifying voice. Then he stood up and shoved his cock into your mouth again, so suddenly that all you could do was make a muffled, surprised noise and take it. 

You bobbed on the hard, thick length of Bucky’s cock, stretching your lips until the edges stung, forcing his girth deep into your mouth. You gagged when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, but you tried to ignore your body’s response and work past it. No matter how hard you tried, though, you couldn’t get his dick all the way inside your mouth.

After a few minutes of letting you try and watching you fail, Bucky let out an impatient growl before muttering, “Looks like you need me to make you take my cock, baby.” Both his hands grabbed your head and he tilted it back, so your gaze met his. “Just remember, if you’d been a better slut, you wouldn’t have made me do this.”

Your eyes widened, tears leaking out the corners as he moved you into the new position he wanted, with your back to one of the mirrors, your head trapped between the hard surface and his cock. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his pants near his knees, but you didn’t protest, just stared up at your horror movie villain, anticipation zipping through your body.

“Don’t worry, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, and you could tell he was smiling again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a telltale way. “This won’t hurt nearly as much as if I’d slit your throat—but it’ll probably last longer than it would’ve taken you to bleed out.”

At that ominous comment, your pussy clenched, even more wetness dripping from your pussy and soaking your shorts. You clenched your thighs together, but that was the only part of your body you could move other than your arms. You were helpless to Bucky’s brutality, and you loved it. If his cock wasn’t already buried in your mouth, you would’ve urged him on.

Wasting no more time, Bucky shoved his dick deep into your mouth, pushing past the squeezing muscles in your throat, groaning when you choked and gagged on his thick cock. Your jaw ached and your throat felt raw, but you accepted it, you welcomed it. Bucky’s roughness was only making your pussy wetter, and you couldn’t wait until you could feel him sinking into your tight, wet hole.

Still, you couldn’t quite control your body’s reaction to the intrusion in your throat. Your throat spasmed and you let out a strangled little sound of desperation as it got harder to breathe. You arms flailed and your body tried to escape, only to bang against the mirror behind you. The fact that you were trapped, really trapped, made more tears leak from your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, cry for me while you’re choking on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, holding your head in his hands as he stared down at you, kneeling for him, your throat bulging with his cock. His eyes sparkled like he enjoyed the sight far too much. “Your dumb slut tears are making me harder.” 

You felt his cock throb in your throat as proof, but then he was pulling back, only for his hips to snap forward, burying his hard length in your throat all over again. More tears poured down your face, your throat closing on a sob that wrenched a deep, pleasured groan from Bucky.

“Fuck, that’s it—take it, slut, you might be crying, but you fucking love it, don’t you, little cottontail?” Bucky rumbled, breathless laughter in his tone. “You love letting me use your mouth like my own personal fuck toy, bet your pussy’s dripping onto the floor, making a mess of your thighs like ‘m gonna make a mess of your face, huh?”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around Bucky’s cock, his words stoking the blazing fire of your arousal. It didn’t help matters that he was right—your thighs, your shorts and your panties were a mess, all soaked with your desire. 

Bucky grunted when he felt you moan around his hardness, his hips snapping against your face harder as he pounded into your mouth. His hands held your head in a punishing grip, his cock ramming deep into your throat while the back of your skull was pressed against the mirror behind you.

A whine worked its way up your throat as you squirmed, your pussy pulsing with the need to be filled, to be rubbed, to get some kind of attention. One of your hands fell between your thighs and you rocked against it, your clit rubbing against the seam of your shorts until you were moaning and sobbing around Bucky’s cock.

Suddenly he stopped. “What’re you doin’ down there, little cottontail?” he rasped, ducking his head to the side so he could see around his cock and your face. When he caught you with your hand between your thighs, he laughed, his glittering blue eyes finding yours. “Oh, I see—the dumb little slut’s dripping hole needs some attention, huh?” 

Bucky shifted, using his booted foot to kick your thighs apart on the metal floor of the funhouse. Then he shoved his boot between your legs, and jerked his head like he expected you to sit on it.

“You need something to hump against, don’t you, baby?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Well, go ‘head. Ride my fucking boot, little cottontail.” His voice was dark and deep, the sound of it making you shiver. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want to follow his order, so you lowered yourself down onto his boot.

The moment your aching core dragged over the laces of Bucky’s boot, you let out a low, filthy moan, the sound muffled by his cock in your mouth. It was exactly the kind of friction you wanted, your clit and messy slit rubbing against the seam of your shorts and the roughness of his laces. Pleasure bloomed, hot and heady, and swirled through your body, overwhelming your mind.

Above you, Bucky groaned, shoving deeper into your throat until your nose was pressed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock and his balls were nestled up against your chin. Spit and precum and tears were leaking down your face, making a mess of your jaw and chin, dripping down to your tits while Bucky watched you with hooded eyes.

“Do that again, baby,” Bucky grunted, holding your head down on his hardness. “Moan like a dumb fucking slut on my cock while I ruin your throat.” 

It took little effort to moan again as pleasure and pain swirled through your body, your hips working on Bucky’s boot, grinding your slick cunt against the stiff leather through your panties and shorts. Your clit rubbed over the laces, your mind filling with clouds of bliss as you sank into the feeling of your pussy grinding against Bucky’s boot and his cock fucking your throat.

Bucky was grunting and groaning loudly, his sounds of pleasure a reward for how good your slutty mouth was making him feel. He pounded into your face, his balls slapping against your chin, seeking his release while you humped against his boot, intent on finding your own pleasure while he used you. 

You were both lost entirely in each other, too focused on seeking pleasure to notice someone else had entered the funhouse. Bucky’s eyes were only for you, and you were staring up too intently into his face, watching pleasure make his eyes go hazy to pay attention to your surroundings—which was the only reason one of the final girl’s friends was able to sneak up on the two of you.

“Get away from her, you monster!” The girl’s shriek was followed closely by the splintering sound of a wooden bat as she swung it at Bucky, and the thing shattering apart against his back. Her face, twisted in fury and determination, quickly shifted to surprise and panic.

For his part, Bucky merely grunted, barely lurching forward as he shoved his cock impossibly deeper in your throat while he bore the attack. But then he was moving quicker than your pleasure-drunk eyes could fully process, your body only aware that he was pulling back until only the tip of him remained on your tongue. Growling furiously, Bucky turned and used his knife to slash the girl’s throat.

You vaguely recognized the girl as one of the characters in Slasher who gets killed at the carnival in the third act, though you couldn’t remember which ride Bucky kills her on. Maybe it was the funhouse—that would explain how she found the two of you.

In that moment, you didn’t much care. You’d been busy with Bucky and you were more than a little annoyed at the interruption. Your body was buzzing with your unslaked need, and you felt horny and frustrated as you turned your attention back to the horror villain above you.

But Bucky’s focus was entirely on the other girl, who was grabbing her throat uselessly, trying to stem the gush of blood as she stumbled into a mirror, leaving a bloody handprint behind. Bucky’s eyes were gleaming as he savored the sight of the dying girl, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was grinning.

His cock was still in your mouth, but just barely, and the longer he watched the other girl die, the more a pout grew on your lips. 

After a few long moments of the girl’s death dragging on, you’d had enough. This was your fantasy come to life, and if Bucky wasn’t going to pay attention to you and get you off, then you were going to make him. 

Carefully, you extracted yourself from between Bucky and the mirror you’d been pressed against, your pout only growing when his stiff cock slipped from your lips and he didn’t even notice. Quickly, you crawled around the corner and once you were out of sight, you hopped up to your feet so you could move faster.

Your legs felt weak from your earlier running and kneeling on the hard, metal floor—not to mention how close you’d been to coming on Bucky’s boot. But you urged them to work as you moved as quietly as you could through the rest of the maze.

You were already almost to the exit when Bucky finally noticed you’d escaped. His angry roar of, “COTTONTAIL!” echoed off the mirrors and metal walls inside the funhouse. But his rage only made you snicker. It was his own fault, after all.

“You shoulda tied me down or paid more attention to me if you didn’t want me getting away, Mr. Slasher,” you called over your shoulder, taunting him as you darted around the final corner in the mirror maze, finding your way out. You clambered through the rest of the funhouse, Bucky’s stomping footsteps reverberating around you and making your heart beat faster with fear and excitement.

You slid down the slide that worked as the exit from the funhouse and as soon as your feet hit the grass of the fairground, you sprinted off again. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about where else Bucky kills the final girl’s friends in the final act of Slasher. All you could remember was the ending, with the carousel.

You turned a corner, running in the opposite direction of the carousel and that area of the carnival, not wanting the final girl or anymore of her friends interrupting you once Bucky caught you again.

Sooner than you expected, a leather-clad chest slammed into your back and, within the next breath, you hit the grassy ground as Bucky tackled you. One of his hands wrapped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck while he pressed his face into the side of yours.

Even through his hard plastic mask, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hot, heavy breaths gusting past your cheek as he panted like a rabid dog. 

“I win again, baby,” Bucky growled, his voice even more threatening thanks to the fury in it. He clearly didn’t appreciate that you’d made him chase you again, and the coldness in his tone promised that while you might find pleasure in what he was about to do to you, you were also going to feel no small amount of pain. 

“And you can be sure I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he went on, resting more of his weight on your back until you were pinned to the ground beneath him, your body struggling to catch your breath as he crushed your lungs. “Now that I have you, you’re never getting away from me again—you’re mine, little cottontail.”

Your heart panged in your chest, and it took you a second to realize the feeling was yearning. Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? You wanted someone to see you at your brattiest, with your darkest desires all laid out—and even seeing your soul bared for them, you wanted them to want to keep you. Part of you wanted to roll over and open your legs for Bucky, tell him you were his forever. But that wasn’t really in your nature.

Instead, you huffed a belated laugh, squirming beneath Bucky and fighting against his considerable strength even though you knew it was no good. You weren’t going anywhere, and you loved it.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Mr. Slasher,” you taunted, bucking your hips hard. You felt Bucky’s big body jostle just a little and, sensing a glimmer of freedom, you fought harder. 

Then cold steel replaced Bucky’s hand at your throat and you went still. Despite the fact that he’d used the knife mere moments ago to kill someone else, you were almost certain he wasn’t going to do the same to you. Well, pretty certain.

Besides, you were still convinced you were in a dream and dying would only wake you up. But with Bucky’s knife pressed to your neck, you didn’t exactly want to test your theory.

The horror movie villain chuckled, his chest rumbling against your spine and his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all night, little cottontail,” he murmured, his voice so dark and deep, it made you shiver. 

He dug the steel of his knife into your throat, using his other hand to guide you up onto your hands and knees. Bucky’s big body was curled over yours, his hand reaching beneath you to grope your tits while he groaned against the side of your face. 

“Such soft tits, baby,” he grunted as his fingers kneaded your flesh through your tank top. Then his hand was diving under the fabric to pinch your nipples, making you cry out and arch your back. “Yeah, that’s it, ya dumb slut, let me hear how much you like having a monster like me playing with your tits.”

You whimpered when he pinched your nipple hard and shook your breast, the sting of pain and pleasure consuming your mind and making you grind back against his thick cock, which he’d tucked back into his pants. An impatient whine tumbled from your lips and it was on the tip of your tongue to beg Bucky to fuck you, but it seemed he was just as eager to get on with it.

Skimming his hand down your body, Bucky found the button of your shorts and quickly undid them. He sat up on his knees, dragging you with him and keeping his knife at your throat. 

He shoved your shorts and panties down roughly past your ass to your thighs, then dipped his hand between your legs. A loud groan rumbled in his chest when he realized how wet you were. 

“Fuck, you really are a slut, aren’t you, baby?” he taunted in a mocking tone, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. His fingers slipped between your drenched folds and all you could do to answer him was moan as he teased your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up this slick cunt, little cottontail,” he rumbled in your ear, a promise ringing in his words. “I’m gonna destroy your tight hole until you’re nothing more than my dumb, cock-drunk slut.”

Between Bucky’s fingers playing with your pussy and his words wreaking havoc on your pleasure-soaked mind, you were desperate for him to follow through on his promise. 

Suddenly, you’d had enough of the game you’d been playing with Bucky and you wanted him to finally—finally—fuck you.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, fuck me,” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks as you rocked your ass against his hard cock. “Please, god, I need it—I need you.”

For a moment, Bucky was silent and unmoving. Then he was shoving you forward into the grass so you were back on your hands and knees. His knife just barely grazed the side of your neck as you fell forward, and you whimpered at the light sting of it.

The next thing you knew, Bucky’s cock was slapping against your bare ass, and he was lining himself up with your soaked, fluttering pussy. Your fingers dug into the grass, preparing yourself to hold on for dear life.

“Remember, little cottontail, you said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want,” Bucky rumbled, sliding his cock between your legs, coating his thick length in your desire. “If it’s too much for you, you can scream all you want, but I’m not stopping until I’ve filled your cunt with all the come in my balls.”

You could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice, but didn’t have time to respond to his words because in the next second, he shoved himself all the way inside you with one thrust.

Bucky’s thick, hard cock slammed deep into your tight pussy, and a scream wrenched free from your lips, making your already raw throat hurt even more. But it was the delicious kind of pain that mixed perfectly with the feeling of Bucky filling you up for the first time. 

His girth was bigger than anyone or any toy you’d taken before, and it felt like you were being split apart, your insides rearranging to make room for his huge cock. It was only because you were so wet that it didn’t really hurt, but the sting of the stretch was enough to send your mind reeling, your thoughts scattering until the only thing that mattered was Bucky’s cock inside you and his body behind you.

Bucky made a noise that was half groan, half growl—sounding entirely feral behind his mask as his hands dug into your hips. You could feel him still holding his knife, but the steel wasn’t pressed against your skin so you didn’t give it much thought.

“God, that’s a tight fucking cunt ya got here, cottontail,” he rasped, pulling back and slamming forward so hard, your arms shook and you nearly collapsed face first into the grass. “Feel like you were fucking made for me, baby—made to be my fuck hole, made to take my cock.”

True to his word, the horror movie villain rutted into you hard, paying no mind to your pleasure, just taking his own. But that was exactly how you liked it, and you couldn’t help the litany of desperate moans and whimpers that tumbled past your lips. 

Before long, your arms gave out and your cheek pressed to the grass, which was cool against your face. The position made your back arch and your ass stick up in the air. Bucky made a pleased sound, slapping your ass in a gesture that almost felt like praise.

“Yeah, take it like a slut, baby,” he growled, pounding into you harder—hard enough you could feel your ass and hips and thighs ripple with the force of his thrusts. “This is how dumb sluts are meant to be fucked.”

You whined at the searing pleasure of Bucky’s cock hammering into your cunt, and you arched your back further, giving him easier access to drive even deeper into you from behind. Your reward was another hard slap on your ass—that time with the cold flat steel of Bucky’s knife. You squealed, then moaned as the sharp sting devolved into even more pleasure.

Bucky laughed, the sound wild and dark. Then he curled his body over yours, dropping the knife in the grass so he could grab wrap one of his hands around your throat while the other groped your tits. 

“You’re mine, little cottontail,” he growled in your ear. “I own your body now, and you’re going to be my personal fuck toy for the rest of your life.” He rutted into you, hard and rough, his hips slapping against your ass mixing with the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked. “I’m gonna chain you up in my basement, and you’re gonna be my basement slut—my little cottontail—forever.”

It was impossible to nod, and impossible to speak, with how tightly Bucky had you pinned beneath him while he fucked you. So you wrapped a hand around his wrist, not pulling him away, but squeezing hard enough that you could feel his pulse thrumming beneath your thumb. You clung to him, telling him wordlessly that you were submitting to him, tears gathering in your lashes as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, pounding you hard and fast, the hard plastic of his mask digging into the side of your face. “Cry for me, cottontail, you know it makes me harder.” 

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat while his other hand tortured your nipples, tugging and pinching them, until your tears began leaking from your eyes. Bucky ducked forward, nuzzling your tear-stained cheek through his mask, groaning as he hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body clench and your mouth drop open in a soundless scream.

“I can feel your cunt choking my cock, baby,” Bucky rumbled in your ear. “You really love everything I’m doing to you, don’t you, dumb slut?” His hips pressed against your ass and he started grinding his cock deep in your core, the tip brushing against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Yes, yes, Bucky, yes,” you sobbed, your words breathless and soft and only able to escape because he’d loosened his hold on your throat slightly. But then he tightened his fingers again and you made a desperate little gasping sound.

Bucky laughed, the sound evil and mocking, and your cunt pulsed again. He refocused on fucking you, pounding into you and chasing his own pleasure. You tried to scream, the pleasure nearly mind-blowing, but his hand on your throat made sure you could only make the barest of noises.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, his hard plastic mask chafing against your sensitive cheek. “You’re gonna come and show me that you’re mine, that you accept your new life—and me as your master.”

Your fingers squeezed his wrist again in understanding, and then you couldn’t think anymore. Bucky’s cock was pounding into your pussy hard enough to almost hurt, pleasure pulsing through your body as he plucked and played with your tits. Your head was going fuzzy from a lack of air, but that just made everything else feel better and more.

When Bucky’s hand abandoned your tits to slip between your thighs, it only took a few strokes of his fingers against your clit to set you off. At the same moment, Bucky’s hand loosened around your throat, and oxygen flooded your lungs as you came on his cock. 

It was almost an out-of-body experience, coming on the thick length of your horror movie villain crush, your mind going entirely blank as your body tried to process all the pleasure and sensation flooding through it. A loud, piercing scream sounded in your ears and it took a second to realize it was spilling from your own lips. 

Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat again, tighter than before, cutting off the sound of your pleasure while he grunted and groaned above you. He was rutting into you as your walls squeezed his cock, taking his pleasure as he prolonged yours.

Blackness was starting to creep into the edges of your vision when he finally roared loudly, his cock throbbing inside you as he spilled his come deep in your pussy. His fingers dug into the sides of your throat harder, choking you through his orgasm as your body fluttered with the last waves of your release. 

The last thing you heard was Bucky muttering, “Good girl, take my come, little cottontail,” as he pumped you full of his thick, sticky seed. Then, there was nothing but comforting darkness, and you sank into it, feeling satisfied and happy as you passed out in the arms of your horror movie villain…

Now, the choice is yours, dear reader. Do you want to stay with Bucky Barnes and live in the world of Slasher? If so, read on for the dark ending! Or do you want to wake up and meet someone a little less psychotic? If so, skip down to the fluffy ending!

Slasher - Dark Ending

dark ending additional warnings: dubcon, somnophilia, slightly painful sex, basement wife-ing, references to Bucky's arm amputation, Bucky is even more psychotic

You were woken by your body jostling against concrete, an aching mix of pleasure and pain radiating between your thighs. The slick sounds of fucking met your ears and, belatedly, you realized you were impaled on a cock, the thickness of it stretching your tight hole to its limit. 

Your inner thighs felt chafed and your back hurt from the position you were contorted in, your shoulders propped up against a cinderblock wall while you were folded in half at the waist, a heavy body pinning your legs to your chest while they fucked you. You were naked and a little cold, but the body against you was warm.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the sight of Bucky’s handsome face contorted with pleasure as he fucked you. There was a new glimmer in the depths of his blue eyes—something wild and feral and more than a little frightening. His mouth spread into a savage grin when he saw you were awake.

“There’s my little cottontail,” he rumbled before ducking down and kissing your cheek in a gesture that would’ve been sweet if not for his stubble roughing over your sensitive skin. You whimpered softly at the abrading feeling, your pussy pulsing despite your exhaustion.

When he pulled back, the sound of chains rattling above you finally caught your attention and you looked up, finding your wrists shackled above your head and bolted into the wall of the basement. Dim morning light was filtering in through windows set high in the walls, and you couldn’t make out much beyond the shadow of the stairs leading up to the first floor.

Before you could gather you wits enough to ask a question, or wade through your confusion to figure out what question you should even ask, Bucky slammed deep inside you, wringing a weak moan from you. It was only then that you realized he’d been taking it easy on you while you were asleep, but since you were awake, he started fucking you harder. Pleasure, pain and bewilderment warred with the tiredness of just waking up as you tried to think. 

Your eyes slid closed while you tried to block out Bucky and your surroundings. You needed to figure out why you weren’t in your grandmother’s basement, having woken up from the dream you’d been sure you were having.

But Bucky didn’t like that. His weight settled more heavily on top of you, making your hips ache in protest, and grabbed your face roughly in his hand. 

“Look at me, cottontail,” he rumbled, shaking your head until your eyes fluttered open again.

Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes and your mouth worked, trying to find the words for how you felt. You’d wanted this—wanted someone like Bucky who saw who you really were and still wanted to keep you. But now that you were actually chained up in his basement, you wondered if maybe you’d jumped in the deep end without being able to swim. 

“Don’t look so confused, baby,” Bucky growled in a patronizingly sweet tone, thumbing your tears from your cheeks and making you flinch as the salt of them irritated your skin. “I told you I was never letting you go—you knew this was going to happen.” He was grinding his cock deep into your well-used cunt, the pleasure almost painful. “Now that you’re chained up in my basement, you have no hope of ever escaping from me again.”

The head of his cock battered against your cervix and you cried out, your head thumping against the cinderblock wall behind you. The pain mixed with the pleasure of thick length rubbing against your sensitive inner walls until your mind was spinning. 

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. You really hadn’t known this was going to happen. You’d thought you were dreaming and were going to wake up after you’d fucked Bucky Barnes, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Apparently you’d really somehow been transported into the world of Slasher.

“Thank me for keeping you, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, wringing another pleasured whimper from you as he kept grinding his cock into you. “After all, it wasn’t easy getting you here after that bitch crushed my arm.” His voice was dripping venom and he rocked his hips harder, forcing tears from your eyes as his cock battered your cervix.

It was only then that you understood why so much of Bucky’s weight was resting on you while his hand held your face. Darting your eyes to Bucky’s shoulder, there was a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around the place where he must’ve amputated his arm after the final girl had crushed it in the carousel gears. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, empathy for Bucky surging through you. It really couldn’t have been easy getting you back to his house when he was injured like that. 

But before you could follow the order he’d given you, Bucky yanked your face back to look at him. He ducked closer, so all you could see were his eyes, wild and psychotic, boring into your own.

“Thank your master for keeping you!” he growled harshly.

Your heart panged, and you rushed to do as he said. “Th-thank you for keeping me, Bucky,” you cried, tears streaming down your face, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, master!” 

The anger leeched out of Bucky at your words and your tears, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Good girl,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek in reward and kissing your jaw with his soft lips. “My good, dumb slut—you’re going to make such a good basement wife for me.”

A small, confused noise squeaked out of you and Bucky pulled back, a grin on his face. He nodded up toward your hands and you twisted them in your shackles, finding shiny, silver metal glinting off your left ring finger. You sucked in a gasp, feeling speechless as your mind failed to process another shocking revelation in so little time.

“Your dream is coming true, baby,” Bucky rumbled, licking the tears from your cheeks, taking your silence as understanding and submission. “You’re going to be my own personal fuck hole—my pretty little dumb slut—for the rest of your life.”

Bucky canted his hips, grinding his cock into the depths of your pussy while the base of him rubbed against your clit and the pleasure that had been winding tighter in your core suddenly snapped. You came with a loud, sobbing scream, your head thrown back against the wall of the basement as tears cascaded down your cheeks while you succumbed to the pleasure, your cunt greedily squeezing Bucky’s cock.

A small part of you wanted to black out again, hoping you’d wake up back in your grandmother’s basement, unsure if you had what it took to be the full-time fuck toy of your favorite horror movie villain. But somehow you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Whatever had transported you into the world of Slasher seemed to be a one-way ticket, and you’d made your choices. The fact that you were at the mercy of Bucky Barnes was no one’s fault but your own.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything you’d done. After all, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—you got to fuck Bucky Barnes. And if you had your way, you’d fuck Bucky Barnes every day until you died. Which was good, since that seemed to be exactly what he had planned for you.

Just then, Bucky grunted, his cock twitching inside you and he slammed deep, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a messy kiss while he came, coating your insides with his seed. His lips were hard and demanding, but you weren’t some wilting flower—you nipped his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Bucky’s cock throbbed inside you as he chuckled, kissing you again, the taste of his blood bursting on your tongue as you devoured each other. 

When he pulled away and collapsed on top of you, a satisfied smile curved your lips. You glanced up at the ring on your finger again, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to be Bucky Barnes’ basement wife. 

Slasher - Fluffy Ending

fluffy ending additional warnings: talk about past roleplay, some potentially risky decisions on reader's part, that's really it

You awoke with a start, the loud, chiming sound of the doorbell echoing through your grandmother’s house and dragging you back to reality from the depths of your dream. A faint soreness permeated your body, and you frowned, the memory of your dream clinging to the edges of your mind.  

Groggily, you opened your eyes to find you were curled up on the familiar rug in the basement of your grandmother’s house, and you suspected the hard floor was likely the cause of your soreness. Still, you felt a faint tingling all over, the remnants of pleasure from your dream and you smiled as you stretched languidly, easing most of the aches in your limbs.

The doorbell chimed again, and you dragged yourself up, wiping drool from your cheek as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and climbed the stairs up to the first floor. On your way to the door, you checked the time, finding it was nearly midnight, and wondered who was stopping by so late. All your relatives and all your grandmother’s friends would be asleep.

Flicking on the porch light, you opened the front door, but the left the screen door latched when you found a strange man standing there. The frigid autuman night air wrapped around you, and you crossed your arms over your chest to stave off a shiver. 

“Hey Mrs—” The man had been standing with his back to you, facing the street, and swung around when he heard the door open. But he paused when he saw you, his greeting cutting off as if he’d been expecting someone else. 

A distant corner of your brain pointed out that of course he was expecting someone else—you were answering the door at your grandmother’s house.

But you couldn’t pay attention to your mind’s logic because you were silently freaking out. The man looked almost exactly like Bucky Barnes. 

He had the same sparkling blue eyes, though there wasn’t any of the cold hatred that haunted your favorite horror movie villain. And his mouth was curved into a charming smile, which you knew for certain you’d never see on the version of Bucky from Slasher. The man’s hair was also shorter, and the stubble on his jaw was a little less scruffy, like he’d shaved that morning and it had grown out since then. The style really worked for him. 

He was somehow even more attractive than Bucky Barnes. You didn’t know how that was possible, but apparently it was. 

The man shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair, looking a little abashed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb ya,” he said, a slight Brooklyn accent in his voice. “Sometimes I borrow some ground coffee from the lady who lives here when I’ve run out.” He shot you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “And I’ve run out.”

“Oh,” you said, a little dumbly. “You must be talking about my grandmother.” Your surprise over the man’s resemblance to Bucky was wearing off, and you found that his smile was infectious. He had a charm to him that made you want to tell him more than you should, which must’ve been why you found yourself saying, “She’s on a cruise, and I’m watching her house.”

It might’ve been a mistake to tell a strange man that much, but instead of doing anything to make you second-guess yourself, he just smacked a hand against his forehead. The gesture was so endearing, you couldn’t help but laugh, warming to him even more. 

“You’re right! She told me about that.” He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your face—hopefully not finding any traces of drool on your chin—and his eyes softened. “Sorry again to bother you, your gran’s normally up watching one of those late shows, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You snorted to yourself. Of course your grandmother was known for staying up later than you. But you didn’t want the man to feel bad. It wasn’t like he woke you up before you came on dream Bucky’s cock. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head and smiling softly to let him know it really was fine. Again, you had the urge to say more to him than you normally would to a stranger. So, before you could hold your tongue, you blurted, “Do you know you look exactly like the villain from this old horror movie?” 

Even in the dim yellow light of the porch, you could see the man’s cheeks turn pink while he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. But he was hiding a smile behind his palm and when he caught your eye, there was humor in the depths of his gaze.

“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” he said, his voice suddenly lower. “Bucky Barnes from Slasher, right?” 

You nodded, almost mesmerized as you stared into his eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you admitted, because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth had been left on the rug in your grandmother’s basement. But the man only chuckled, the light flush fading from his face.

“Did you now?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with humor as he looked at your face, his gaze raking over the curve of your lips. He shifted closer to the door and a shiver skated down your spine at the way he loomed over you. “Y’know, my friends have called me Bucky ever since we watched that movie one summer when were idiot kids.”

“Y-your name’s Bucky?” you asked, excitement making your voice come out like a whisper. 

The man looked to the side and chuckled, the sound low and rich and making you want to giggle ridiculously and kick your feet. When his gaze found yours again, his eyes were sparkling with playfulness and something more; his mouth was curved into a devastatingly charming grin.

“No, my name is James Barnes, but pretty much everyone calls me Bucky.” He watched you absorb this information, shifting even closer to the door until you could feel the warmth of him seeping through the screen. “Would you like to call me Bucky, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice pitching so low and deep, you could feel it between your thighs.

Your shoulders trembled as you shivered, nodding eagerly as you whispered, “Yes, please.”

Bucky rumbled a pleased sound, and his hand raised toward the screen, like he was reaching for you. But then he paused, as if catching himself. Huffing a laugh, he drew his hand back and wiped it down his face, seemingly forcing himself to straighten and take a step back. 

You almost whined in protest, but caught yourself at the last second, biting your lip against a frown as he moved away. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had drifted to each other through the door until he was pulling away. You understood it was probably weird, the way you were acting with each other considering you just met, but the chemistry between you was palpable, and you desperately wanted to explore it as soon as possible.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I have the mask,” Bucky confessed, breaking you free from your thoughts. 

You were glad for it, because he was giving you another loaded look and you felt your belly swoop, butterflies taking flight as he smiled at you. It took a second to process his words, and when you did, you couldn’t help the impish grin that spread across your face. You gestured for him to go on.

“I bought it for a girl I was seeing who said she wanted to roleplay,” he went on, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking off to the side again, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be telling this to a girl he just met, but couldn’t help himself. “But I think I scared her off.” He turned his penetrating gaze back to you, pinning you in place while you held your breath. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who scares easily.”

You snorted again and tossed your head. That was an understatement, if your dream was any indication of your desires—which it was. You gave the man called Bucky a cheeky smile. “No, I’m definitely not,” you told him, a hint of a challenge in your tone.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. Then, you made a slightly reckless decision. Your hand reached for the latch of the screen door and pushed it open, all while holding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you come in and get that coffee you needed,” you offered, hoping your instincts about Bucky were right, and he would turn out to be exactly the kind of man you wanted in your life. Besides, you told yourself, your grandmother liked him well enough to lend him some coffee—and you trusted her judgement so he must be a decent guy. “And you can tell me what about your roleplay frightened off that girl.”

Bucky’s smile spread into a full-on grin, and he eagerly grabbed the door, opening it wider while he stepped forward. When you didn’t move back right away and instead allowed him to step into your personal space, his gaze dropped to your mouth, his eyes darkening and the corners of his mouth twitching in another smile.

“Deal,” he rumbled. “So long as you tell me more about this crush of yours.”

The memories of your dream flitted through your mind, feeling more real than any dream you’d ever had before, and you found you couldn’t wait to tell Bucky about it. The man in front of you was warmer and kinder than the one you’d met in your dreams, but you had a feeling he had a dark side that liked to come out to play—just like you. 

“Deal.” After you said the word, you felt as if something truly special was beginning and your heart raced with excitement as you stared up into Bucky’s handsome face. Both of you were grinning like idiots.

Finally taking a step back, you welcomed Bucky into your grandmother’s house, knowing deep in your bones that you were going to be in each other’s lives for a very long time—possibly even forever. And you couldn’t help but think that having this Bucky Barnes was even better than dreaming about your horror movie villain crush. After all, at least he was real.