#slasher boyfriends

[looooooooomis]

the darkness, visible

pairing: corey cunningham x fem!reader one shot word count: 7.3k (I am SO sorry) warnings: s m u t (18++++++), oral, tit-play, thigh-riding, teasing, friends to lovers, halloween ends spoilers

a/n: what can i say? he charmed me

masterlist HERE

“When the chaos calls me out And it feel it's like there is nothing I can do I picture you.” picture you // mumford & sons

Friends.

Just friends.

That’s all the two of you were. That’s all you ever had been and while it might have killed you half of the time – most of the time, if you were being honest – that’s all you’d ever be.

Friends.

Chums.

Pals.

But then there were nights like tonight that made all those years of burying your feelings for the man to your right all the more impossible. Nights when you could swear he was sitting closer than normal, so close that his body heat seemed to envelop you from every angle as the two of you sat in your barely lit apartment watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You could feel the scratchiness of his wool sweater graze yours every few seconds, smell that musky aftershave wafting all around you, and you watched, in mild admiration, as those thick fingers of his tightened into two fists on his lap. The veins in his hands swelled to life with ever clench, steeling your attention instantly as you thought of how nice they might feel circling around your throat, how fucking good they’d feel carved into the flesh of your hips if he were to bend you over the arm of your couch.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Corey Cunningham was in agony as he sat there, leg bouncing every couple of seconds as he flexed and unflexed his fingers into fists – but you did know Corey. Knew him better than anyone – and this wasn’t out of left field for your curly haired best friend.

Because try as you might to bury your feelings for the man, you knew he was doing the exact same thing when it came to you.

You’d both agreed a very long time ago, a fucking lifetime ago, that you were both better off as friends. It was about a year before the babysitting incident at a New Years Eve party that your friend, Jess, had thrown. You were both drunk, both a little stoned, and both way too tired to play that tired old game of who can bury their feelings down farther that it was all you could both do to kiss each other at midnight. Granted, it was awkward as all hell – there was no magic rom-com movie moment where the pair of you locked eyes and just knew you’d found your person – but instead lasted for all of five seconds before some drunken idiot slammed into you from behind, sending you forward with enough force to completely obliterate poor Corey’s nose.  

It was roughly ten minutes after that incident, as you were bunching a handful of toilet paper into Corey’s face in a lame attempt to staunch the bleeding, when you both silently came to the agreement that whatever that was couldn’t happen again. You two were friends, that’s all you’d ever be, this was only the universe’s way of solidifying that sad fact.

But that didn’t mean either of you had to like it.

And night’s like tonight, where you could feel Corey’s frustration exuding off of him in waves, made that sad pill all the harder to swallow.

The tension between the two of you was thick and, some nights, nights spent holed up in your apartment, watching a movie with a bottle (or two) of wine between you, that tension was hard to ignore.  

You could feel those pretty brown eyes scraping over your profile as the movie played on, feel him shift, every couple of minutes, the slightest bit closer to you, never once allowing those hands to touch you but not willing his body to do the same. He wanted you every bit as much as you wanted him and you knew that.

But that wasn’t in the cards for the two of you, especially after that night he babysat Jeremy.

You could still remember the grit of his voice when he called you from the police station. He’d only been allowed one call and, rather than call his overbearing mother or his father, he’d called you. You were at a Halloween party, one he was meant to be attending when he was finished with that Jeremy kid, but there was a shift in his voice and a certain hitch in his breathing that alerted you to something being seriously wrong.

You didn’t realize just how horrific that something was, however, until it was too late.

You were there when the town turned its back on him, you were there through the trials and through every painstaking moment that the boy you were so heartily in love with dimmed to a dull glow with every passing year. Haddonfield was killing him, it had already eaten him up and chewed him out and now all that was left was to wait for something to take him away completely because people in Haddonfield didn’t forget and they certainly couldn’t forgive the man they’d dubbed the Killer Babysitter.

Your heart had broken for the man more times than you could count at this stage in your friendship. Before that night, Corey’s life has been on the up and up. He was smart, he was almost finished with college, the two of you had talked about moving to Chicago the next year for a fresh start – but then that kid died and, with him, most of Corey did, too.

“You want to go somewhere tonight?” Corey’s quiet voice sliced into the quietude of your living room, snapping your attention away from his hands only long enough for you to peer across at those pretty brown eyes. When you didn’t answer right away, you watched Corey’s lips twitch in mild amusement. “What’s that look?”

“You want to go out?” You asked, raising your brows. Stretching across the couch, you placed the back of your hand on his forehead, ignoring his pitiful attempts to smack your hand away with a small smirk of your own. “You feeling okay?”

“Hilarious,” he mused, catching your hand with ease. You didn’t quite miss the way he seemed to hold onto your hand for a few extra seconds before letting it fall between you. “Allyson Nelson, you know her?”

Confusion pinched at your brows as you gave him a slow nod. “Laurie Strode’s granddaughter, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “She, uh,” glancing down at the bandage on his hand he seemed to chew on his words for a few seconds before his eyes found yours once more. “She fixed my hand up this afternoon and actually invited me to this Halloween pub night thing.”

Corey was testing the waters when he knew he shouldn’t have been and, as he watched your face fall for just a second, a real blink and you’ll miss it type of thing, his stomach fell out of his ass as he watched you smack on a tight, practiced smile before downing the rest of your wine.

“That’s fun,” you mused with that hollow smile. “You should go.”

Corey was quiet as he watched you pour out another glass of wine, watching your face for any indication that you were jealous because if you were jealous then he wasn’t fucking crazy for being so goddamn in love with his best friend. Because if you were jealous maybe, just maybe, all of the feelings he had for you boiling beneath the surface of his skin weren’t entirely one-sided.

“I was thinking about it,” He admitted, studying your face. “But I want you there with me.”

You gave him a quiet snort as you found his stare from above your glass of wine. “Yeah, I don’t think Allyson would love that.”

“Why not?” Corey asked, watching you relax back into the couch. “She asked, I’m sure she—”

“She asked you, Corey,” you laughed but he knew that laugh. It was a stale laugh, one you’d given many men that he’d witnessed over the years and he suddenly wished he hadn’t said a fucking word. If there was anything in this world Corey knew like the back of his fucking hand, it was you. Your expressions, your personality, your defense mechanisms – and this, this breezy nonchalance was defense mechanism number one.

“So?” He pushed out, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees. “It was probably just her being polite and—”

You shot him a knowing look which silenced him instantly.

“How did she ask?” You smirked, taking another sip of wine. “Because I promise you, you’re wrong.”

“Over text,” he shrugged. “She asked if I had a costume because her co-worker was throwing a party at that bar on Eagle Street.”

“Text,” you mused with a hum. “So, a girl gives you her number and asks you out and you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t think she’d mind if you brought a female friend with you?”

Corey mulled over your words for a few seconds before giving you a mild shrug. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She would,” you laughed, putting your glass back on the coffee table at your knee. “I’d mind if I invited a guy out and he brought another girl.”

“It’s not like I’d be bringing you as a date. We’re friends.” He argued but as those words left his tongue and he caught a flash of hurt dance across your face, Corey wished like hell that the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“I know,” you replied, way too perky. That blasé smile was back in full force as you leaned forward to down the rest of your wine. “We’re friends.” You reiterated, almost a little grumpily before focusing those pretty eyes back on his face. “So, as your friend, I demand that you leave my apartment right now and go get your girl.”

His girl, he wanted to laugh but found such a sensation almost impossible to come by when it wasn’t in reference to you.

“I’m not going to ditch you,” he said, suddenly wishing he’d never opened his mouth to begin with. Desperation began to scrape inside of his chest, as did those vexatious feelings he had for you. They were clawing at his chest, desperate to come out of his mouth so that all those buried feelings could finally, maybe, manifest into something more tangible. Something real.

“You’re not ditching,” you simply said with a hum. “I’m kicking you out of my apartment so that you can go on a date with a pretty girl who’s been through the ringer every bit as much as you have.” You told him, avoiding his stare altogether. “It’ll be good for you.”

You’re good for me, he wanted to say. Hell, he wanted to scream it for all your fucking neighbours to hear.

But he wouldn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

Because Corey Cunningham didn’t have it in him. He lacked conviction, that’s what his mother had said time and time again, and he supposed she was right. Because if Corey had even an ounce of conviction, an ounce of courage inside of his chest, he’d act on those fucking feelings rather than bury them further down with every passing day.

“What are you waiting for, lover boy?” Pushing yourself off of the couch, you grabbed his arm and yanked him up to his feet with some difficulty before grabbing for his jacket. “Go,” you told him, tossing his jacket at him. “Have fun.”

“What about you?” He asked pitifully, not moving an inch as you brought his empty wine glass to the kitchen. Corey’s eyes were on your ass as you walked away; you were in nothing more an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of short athletic shorts and no matter how often he’d seen you in an outfit similar to this, he was hooked.

He wanted nothing more than to yank those shorts down and lick his way up those thighs until finally tasting you the way he always wanted to.

But, instead, here he was. Being ushered out of your apartment to go see another girl.

“Me?” You asked over your shoulder. “I’m going to finish this movie, finish this wine, smoke a bowl, masturbate, and then go to bed.” You flashed him an amused smile as you watched his cheeks redden with the mention of masturbation before tucking your chin into your chest. It wasn’t out of the blue for you two to talk about sex and all things related to it, but it never got old watching the toll it seemed to take on your friend. “I’ll be just fine.”

The images of you splayed out on the couch or on your bed, legs wide with one of your toys between your thighs was nearly enough to kill him. If he had the balls, he’d make a quip about wanting to watch or, at the very least, wanting to offer a helping hand so that you didn’t have to do all the work. He wanted to be that guy. He wanted to be that guy more than anything when it came to you.

But he wasn’t.

“I,” he opened his mouth, tasting the words out on his tongue before uttering them out loud. I want to stay with you. I want to be the one fucking you on this couch, not your fucking dildo.

But no words surfaced.

Only thoughts.

That’s all they’d ever be.

“Hmm?” You asked, padding your way back into the living room.

“Nothing,” he shook his head and begrudgingly shrugged his jacket on. “I guess I’ll go, then.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, avoiding his eyes one last time as you focused back on the movie. “Go and have some fun, Cunningham. You deserve it.”

In a perfect world, he’d show some conviction right now. He’d march across your tiny apartment, yank you up to your feet and kiss you with everything he had. He’d tell you everything, every little fucking thing he was feeling about you, he’d kiss you and taste you and make you scream for him.

But all he did was stand there, wishing. Waiting for something inside of him to snap to life. For that beast inside of his chest to wake up and finally make its move.

Only it never came and as he lowered his gaze to the ground and made his way towards your front door, Corey managed one pitiful glance over his shoulder towards you only to find that your eyes were on his.

Say it, he demanded. Do something you fucking idiot!

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, shoving his hands inside of his coat pockets.

That sad smile of yours was going to be etched into his memory until the end of time, he was sure of it. But, rather than say another word, you buried it just as fast and gave him a single nod. “See you tomorrow, Corey.”

God, he really was a fucking idiot.

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

It was as if he was on fire from within.

Something inside of him, some cloud of chaos, of destruction, a darkness so deep and encompassing seemed to blossom in his chest that morning. At first, he’d been terrified. Horrified, even, of waking up in some sort of sewage drain and when that rude awakening turned into coming face to face with Michael fucking Myers, Corey had never felt such fear in his life.

But it was somewhere after he crawled out of that sewage drain, after barely leaving with his life, and feeling that knife slice into the homeless man who had attacked him, that fear turned into something more. Something much more carnal and familiar than he could fathom. It was as though that beast inside of his chest had been stirred awake that morning which, given that he’d been jumped the night prior, was a feat in and of itself.

But somehow, amidst the bruises and the wounds marring his hands and face. Despite his bones aching from the fall off of the bridge and the pounding in his head, Corey felt alive for the first time since the accident at Jeremy’s house.

His skin felt like it was vibrating as adrenaline rushed through his entire body, waking up the darkest parts of himself that he had buried down so deep for so many years. It was as if the sun was finally shining on Corey Cunningham after spending years and years in the shadows.

He was in the shower when he realized it. Watching the blood seep off of his body and swirl down the drain, Corey knew exactly what he needed to do with this newfound confidence – with this burst of conviction lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Reaching for his phone after he slung a towel haphazardly around his waist, Corey tapped through multiple screens before finding your conversation.

Free tonight?

He typed, hitting send before that resolve left him entirely.

Sure. Swing by around 10?

That beast inside of his chest clawed its way to the surface as he typed his response.

I’ll be there.

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

There was a knock at your door a little after ten that evening.

You knew it was bound to be Corey, it was only ever Corey at this time of night, but that didn’t stop you from peering through the peephole just to be sure. You did live in Haddonfield, after all, and, while you were almost sure Michael Myers didn’t exactly knock before claiming his next victim, you weren’t risking it.

But, sure enough, there was Corey. Holding a bottle of wine in his hands along with a small bouquet of flowers that looked freshly picked from the garden your landlord kept at the front of the building.

“What the fuck?” You laughed, swinging the door open. But any and all amusement left you as you took in the battered man before you. “Oh, my god, Corey,” His clothes were clean and it was obvious he made an attempt to cover up just how fucking injured he was, but as your eyes swept over every inch of visible skin, your heart fell into your stomach. Someone had beaten the shit out of him. “What the fuck happened?” You hissed, grabbing his arm to direct him into your apartment. The flowers in his arms were all but forgotten about as you searched his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

His glasses were gone now and while the scratches and bits of dry blood along his lip and hairline should have had your full attention, it was his eyes that held you there. Those gorgeous brown eyes that you knew like the back of your hand, those kind, gentle, patient eyes were dark tonight.

Penetrative.

Sinister.

You couldn’t look away. That sheepish side of your best friend, the poised version of Corey that you’d familiarized yourself with since the incident was gone tonight and, in its place, this. Confidence exuded off of the man tonight and, as you watched him place the bottle of wine on your table, along with the flowers he’d brought with him, it was those dark eyes that held your attention.

“Nobody,” his voice was low as she shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’m okay.”

He sounded the same, he looked the same – but there was something different about Corey Cunningham tonight and to say you were intrigued would have been an understatement.

Your intrigue, however, was short-lived as you focused back on the wounds marring his body.

“You’re okay? Corey, have you seen yourself?” You reached forward and gently brushed his hair away from his face to get a better look at the gash that ran along his brow. You winced. “Fuck, you might need stitches.”

“I don’t need any stitches,” he said, not moving a muscle under your sudden touch. The old Corey would have blushed, hell, he would have probably fumbled over some words – but not tonight. Instead, you watched a teasing grin pull at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. “I didn’t come here for first-aid, Y/N.”

“No?” You asked distractedly, glancing around your apartment for the small first-aid box you carried in case of emergencies. When your search came up empty, you sighed and focused your attention back to Corey. Frowning, you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. Concern niggled in your belly as you shook your head. “Jesus, look at you. Who did it, Corey? I swear to god, if it was—”

The words died on the tip of your tongue as Corey crossed the small threshold of your apartment with ease, but before you could question him on anything, his mouth was on yours as he backed you into the side of your couch.

Every part of your brain was screaming at you to pull back, to come to your senses and think clearly for just one goddamn second – but you couldn’t.

Not now.

On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as he pushed you against the couch with ease with his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip.

“What?” Your voice was muffled as you pulled back just far enough to peer across at him. That dark look in his eyes was enough to make you clench your thighs together as warmth pooled between your thighs. “Corey, what the fuck?”

Licking his lips, Corey’s forehead fell against your own as he swept some of your hair behind your ear. “You want me to stop?” His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he ground his hips into yours, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged your own.

You could feel his cock through his jeans, straining against the material painfully so as your own arousal spread like wildfire inside of you.

“I didn’t say that,” you pushed out, melting into him. “But what the fuck’s gotten into you?” Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it. “Are you high?”

“No,” he laughed, and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Not drunk, either, before you ask.”

“Concussion?” You mumbled against his lips, working on getting him out of his jacket

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a dark smirk. “Maybe. Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it fucking matters, asshole.” You told him breathlessly. “I don’t want you regretting anything when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

His movements stilled and you watched his brows furl as he seemed to weigh the gravity of your words. “Regret what?” He asked, cradling your face. “Kissing you? Tasting you?” He clicked his tongue and breathed out a terse, shaky sigh. “I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen, Y/N,” no trace of hilarity crossed over his face as he brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. “No chance I’d regret this. You hear me?””

“Corey,” you groused, but your body was losing its battle to remain steadfast with Corey looking at you like that. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Amusement flashed across his face. “You don’t think I mean it?” He asked, backing you onto the couch so that your knees buckled. Leaning most of his weight on his elbow beside you, Corey hovered over you and bumped your nose with his. “You want me to show you how much I mean it?”

Your cunt throbbed at the promise of his words. Were you dreaming? How was this the same man who blushed at the mention of masturbation the night prior? “I’m serious, Corey.”

“So am I,” he mumbled into the flesh of your neck. Biting down, he could only smirk at the low moan he managed to get out of you before doing it again. His cock twitched. “You like that?”

Just last night, the two of you had been sat on this very couch. The same couch where you’d spent hours talking and watching movies. The same couch where he’d spent hours on hours thinking through this very scenario. Thinking about just how he’d go about kissing you, tasting you – how the two of you could go from friends to lovers and everything in between.

He kissed you with everything he had as he positioned the pair of you into a better angle; one where he could see you up close and personal. Sitting himself up, he yanked you on top of his thick thighs, not wasting even a second to push that silky nightgown up your waist to allow himself full access to that sweet cunt he’d thought about for years on end.

He needed to feel you as close as humanly possible tonight, hell, he was desperate for it. Desperate for you. And, judging by the greedy way you kissed him and the way your hands seemed to knot through his hair and knead into his sweater, keeping him just as close, it was all too obvious to Corey that he’d denied himself all these years for nothing.

You wanted this, wanted him, every bit as much as he wanted you.

Biting down on your lip, Corey’s fingers bled into the flesh of your hips as he slipped his hands beneath the silk of that pretty little night dress. You’d worn this dress around him only once before and he could still recall the way those perfect tits of yours looked in it. How your nipples pebbled and strained against the thin material, drawing his eyes immediately. He’d had that image of you in his head for weeks, after that. Fucked his hand more times than he was willing to admit as he thought of all the ways he could get that dress off of you.

And now, here you were. Sitting on his lap in that fucking dress he’d dreamt about for months on end. He could feel the warmth of your cunt through his jeans, see the pebbling of your nipples knowing he was only a few inches away from being able to taste them on his tongue.

You groaned into his mouth as he bit your lip, but when his tongue ran along your lip, soothing the pain almost instantly, all was forgiven. How could it not be when he felt this fucking good?

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” You breathed out raking your fingers through those unruly curls. “But I like it.”

A dark rumble of laughter crawled out from between those perfect lips of his as he swirled his tongue up the length of your throat. He could feel your pulse jump beneath his tongue, and it took everything inside of him not to come on the spot.

Your entire body felt red-hot as his thick fingers slipped beneath your dress and curled into the flesh of your hips. He was holding you there, not allowing you so much as an inch as he closed his mouth over your pulse point, relishing in how fucking good it finally felt to taste your skin, to feel your heartbeat on his tongue. Feel you writhing, burning for him, as he finally kissed you the way he’d always wanted to kiss you.

All his life, he’d denied himself when it came to you. Denied his body, his mind, his heart.

But never again.

Not with you.

“Your heart’s fucking racing,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Yeah, well,” you breathed out, and when you felt him gently bite down on your collarbone, just beneath your pulse point, you were dizzy with want. “Do you blame me?”

Corey just managed to tear himself away from you only long enough to blink up at you. “You scared of me?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’ve just thought about this for a long time. Never thought it would actually happen.”

Corey’s eyebrows pulled up. “You’ve thought about this?” Something that looked an awful lot like esteem flashed across his face, followed by sheer confusion before you felt him pull you even closer. “About us?”

You wanted to laugh because how could he be so goddamn blind – but you didn’t. Instead, all you could do was run your fingers through his hair again, pushing it back and away from his face long enough to see the damage those assholes had done the night prior. “Yeah, you dumb idiot,” you chastised quietly, placing a gentle kiss to the bruise above his lip. “I’ve thought about us.”

Your tone was enough to make Corey believe you, but it was the effervescent look of pure worship resonating from your every pore that made Corey close the gap between you. He’d been an idiot to ignore his feelings for you. How much time had he wasted running from this? Running from you?

Slowly, as though time meant nothing, his lips met yours in a kiss that sent shockwaves through your entire body. The way the two of you moved against each other, the way his lips felt against yours, the way your hands seemed to just know where to touch the man to make him feral.

There was a fluency between the two of you, an ease that went beyond sense, beyond logic.

It was natural as breathing to hold you like this, to kiss you and touch you exactly like this and Corey couldn’t get enough. Not when you sounded so fucking pretty moaning every time the seam of his jeans rubbed your cunt just right.

Yeah, he’d been a fucking idiot to wait this long to show you how he felt.  

But he’d be damned if he waited another second.

Still getting used to that strange prickling beneath his skin, Corey’s fingers trembled as they pushed the hem of your dress higher up your waist, allowing himself full access to your naked ass. You were in nothing more than a thong beneath that fucking dress and seeing you, feeling how little there was between you was enough to kill him.

“I thought about you last night,” you whispered, biting down on your own lip as you felt him knead your bare ass. “Fucking me on this very couch.”

His cock twitched painfully against his jeans. “While you were touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Fuck,” he hissed, reaching around to give your ass another firm squeeze. “I should have stayed.”

You smirked and lowered yourself further down on his lap so that your clit brushed against his jean-clad thigh again. “You’re here now,” you reminded him, slowly sliding back and forth on his thigh. You bit back a moan as you continued to ride his thigh. “And, fuck, baby, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

With a menacing grin, he craned his neck up to capture your lips as you continued to rock back and forth on his thigh. Burying a moan inside of his mouth, you felt one of his hands wander from your ass and along your waist before giving your breast a firm squeeze through the fabric of your thin slip dress.

God, how many times had he dreamt of touching you? How many times had he thought about sucking the very tits he was now groping as you moaned and arched into his touch? He’d rubbed himself raw many a night dreaming about this very scenario and here you were.

Through the fabric of your dress, his thumb rolled over the hardened bud of your nipple briefly before yanking the straps down so that you were fully exposed to him. If he was worried about the fabric ripping, he sure as shit had a funny way of showing it because the second your tits were out of that dress, Corey’s hungry mouth was on your nipple.

Tasting you.

Savouring you.

Between the sensation of his tongue and the feeling of your clit scraping against his strong, muscular thigh, you were in heaven.

But fair was fair.

He was the injured party, here. He looked like he fell off of a fucking bridge, the man needed some TLC.

And you were more than happy to help.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy as he gently bit and sucked at your pert nipple, you reached your arm down between you to unbuckle his belt. Your movements were frenzied, desperate, as you worked on undoing his jeans, and when you finally managed to undo his zipper, you unlatched your tit from his mouth and began to shimmy down his legs.

Corey’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as you settled between his thighs. There was a damp streak on the leg of his jeans on account of you, but you barely paid it any mind as you yanked the material further down his hips.

His cock sprang to life the second it had come loose from its constraints and, as your hungry eyes scraped over his painfully hard erection, he swore to himself that he could have come right there and then.

Your lips were puffy from all the kissing you’d done, your cheeks flushed. And as your chest heaved with each shallow breath, your already perky nipples puckered and teased him to no end. He wanted his mouth back on them, needed to feel the swollen buds on his tongue, between his teeth. He needed to hear you scream for him, beg for him.

He needed you more than air in that moment. Hell, he needed you more than water for most of his life. He knew he should have been taking his time with you tonight, he should try to be gentle – but he couldn’t.

That beast inside of him had gone without for so damn long and tonight, he would feed it.

Scraping your fingernails up his thighs, you smirked and lowered your head to the girth of his cock. You’d thought about how it might feel to pierce you, how it might taste on your tongue but even your wildest dreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

With the flat of your tongue, you licked your way up the length of his cock all the while holding that dark stare. His legs twitched beneath you and his chest, rising and falling rapidly, seemed to hitch with an unearthed breath that caught in his throat the very second you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.  

“This okay?” You purred with a knowing, teasing smile.

With hungry, half-lidded eyes, Corey watched that pretty mouth of yours take him. Slowly at first, but soon you fell into an easy rhythm as you sucked him off. “Yeah,” his voice was gruff, barely above a whisper. Curling his fingers through your hair, he squeezed his fist together, giving your hair a firm tug as he threw his head back against the couch and whispered, “Fuck, baby.”

If he wasn’t careful, he’d blow his load in your mouth before he got the chance to properly fuck you and he’d be damned if he let that happen.

Corey gave your hair a firm tug and hissed out your name. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

Releasing his cock with a resounding pop, you raised a single eyebrow up at him and grinned. “That’s kind of the point.”

Without so much as a word, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a bruising kiss as he pulled you back onto the couch. His movements were quick, you barely registered the fact that he managed to pin you down where he’d just been sitting, and as you watched him position himself in front of you, between your thighs, your pulse seemed to skyrocket in anticipation.  

You watched, mesmerised, as he tugged your thong down your thighs. At first, he held your stare as he leaned in to place an almost gentle kiss to your sopping mound, but when his eyes, those dark, dark eyes, flittered down to your cunt, the excitement in the pit of your stomach blossomed wholly.

He was a man on fire in that moment.  

“Corey,” you pleaded pathetically, running your fingers through his curls. Your hips thrusted forward out of desperation alone. You needed to feel him inside of you one way or another. “Please, baby.”

That seemed to do it. Something in your whiny tone was enough for Corey to bury his face between your thighs and, fuck, did he feel so fucking good.

A guttural moan tore out of your lips as his deft tongue found your clit and, as he inserted two thick fingers inside of you, you bucked into his mouth and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Just as you’d expected, the man was a god with his tongue.

He lapped and sucked at your clit as his free hand reached up to play with your exposed tits, taking his time with each nipple as he roughly pinched and squeezed. You’d never felt so hot in your life and your body, arching and bucking into his mouth as he senselessly tongue-fucked you, prickled with a want so intense that it was almost tangible.

It was obvious the man wanted you to come and god did he want you to come hard.

“Corey,” you rasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as that familiar heat began to encroach its way up your body. When he curled his fingers inside of your hot cunt, you nearly screamed. “Corey, fuck.”

“Come for me,” he demanded, the reverb of his voice against your already sensitive clit sent shivers up and down your spine. “God, baby, you know how good you taste?”

You were going to cum. Any second now. You felt that mind-numbing pleasure build up in your toes and up your legs and as he gave your clit another long, desperate suck, you let that fire inside of your belly overtake you.

Your entire body shook as you bucked into his mouth.

Stars danced behind your eyes as strangled moans and breathy whines tore out of your throat.

But Corey didn’t ease up.

He wouldn’t.

He simply continued to lick and suck and nip at your clit as you rode out your orgasm, ignoring the way your entire body seemed to convulse almost violently so. He wanted to hear you scream, hell, he wanted to feel you tremble and shake on account of him all fucking night long.

You deserved to know he wanted this, wanted you more than he could even fathom and he deserved to feel like some sort of fucking god as he watched you tremble on his tongue. No man would ever touch you like this again, only him.  

But that timid man he’d become since that night with Jeremy was still at the root of his core and seeing you fumble over your words as you fought for control of your own body won over as he slowly released your clit and kissed his was up your pelvis and stomach before leaning up to capture your lips again.

You could taste yourself on his lips as you kissed him and as he situated himself in front of you, you instinctively opened your thighs a little wider to allow him entrance. Breathlessly, you pulled away from his lips and shot him a tiny smirk as you reached down to give his dick a firm tug. “Fuck me, Corey.”

He seemed to search your eyes for a moment before giving you a small, gentle nod. He might have been a new man tonight, like something inside of him just…woke up – but that tender look he gave you as he watched you climb on top of his lap was all you could focus on. He looked so…fucking beautiful with his unruly curls splayed every which way and that sheen of sweat coating his bruised and battered skin. You could still see your slick all over his chin and nose, but you’d never seen a more beautiful being as you did whilst looking across at the man beneath you.

“You okay?” You found yourself asking as you swept a blanket of hair back and away from his forehead. Reaching down, you guided the length of him through your wet folds and along your clit before lowering yourself down onto his length.

His words died on his tongue as he blew out a puff of air through his lips and allowed his head to fall back against the couch as he tried to regain control of his body. You just felt so fucking good, so fucking warm and tight, on his cock. He’d imagined this very scenario a thousand times over – but never in his life did he expect it to feel so damn good.

“I’m better than okay,” he chuckled, tugging your already rumpled dress over your head. He tossed it across your small apartment, watching with keen interest as your tits heaved and bounced with every fluid bound you took. “God, look at you,” he mused, full of wonder. His eyes seemed to skirt around every inch of your body, followed closely by his calloused hands, but the look he gave you as those brown eyes finally settled in on your face made you breathless.  “You’re perfect.”

It came out no louder than a whisper but landed like an atom bomb in your chest as you took in the raw emotion all over his face.

Splaying his fingers across the expanse of your back, Corey pulled you closer into him and enveloped his mouth around one of your nipples, watching you through dark and hooded eyes as his tongue lapped and sucked each tit. If he’d known how hot you got from tit-play, how much your body seemed to just mould against him as those tiny, breathy moans filtered around your small apartment – he would have tested the waters years ago.  

God, you were soaked and, fuck, you felt so fucking good.

He’d thought about doing this for years now – hell, he’d argue since he’d laid eyes on you – but even in his wildest, wettest dream, he never imagined that you’d feel this good. His hands held your hips as you swiveled and bounced on his cock. He was going to come soon, he knew he was, but when he watched you reach down and begin to stroke your clit as he was buried inside of you, that was it for Corey.

A breathy moan tore out of his lips as he leaned forward to capture your mouth again, coming undone inside of you, filling you up with everything he had.

Feeling his cock twitch, you rode out the last few pumps before slowly pulling back to peer down at him. “If you think this got you out of telling me who beat you up,” You nuzzled his neck and bit down. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

A slow, lazy grin tore across his lips as you slowly slid off of him, joining him on the couch with your naked chest heaving. Reaching across to cup your pussy, Corey slipped a finger through your wet folds and gave your clit a firm pinch. Your entire body trembled on account of his fingers. “Later,” he promised, leaning in to capture your lips yet again. “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

let me know what you guys think x 

[smutbutoutofnowhere]

shoutout to all my fellow smut enjoyers

[bludragongal]

I needed to start the day off with something fun for myself so I redrew a meme.

Original by @b00rad!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

" what the hell are you doing ?"

you look away from your screen to stare at your boyfriend from beneath the mountain of pillows you’re laying under. there are snacks ranging from sweet to salty strewn all around your bed and a spot right next to you saved specifically for him.

you raise a brow " i’m watching my show." you state. katsuki’s eye twitches. he stalks towards you slowly, menacingly, like he’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce at you. you shove your chin and nose underneath your blankets.

"you’re watching our show. " he corrects, squinting at you "you’re watching. our show." he reiterates.

"katsu-"

" our show. an’ yer fuckin’ watching it without me." he glares daggers into your fucking soul and with the rage of a thousand suns as he spits the words out like they had somehow caused him harm.

"you said i could start without you last time !" you defend weakly. he rolls his eyes as he stomps over to you and climbs into your bed "yeah, last time, but this ain’t last fuckin’ time, dumbass." he growls. you whine when he lifts up your blankets and the cold air nips at you. "oh shut up, big baby, weren’t whinin’ when ya decided ta watch the one show you know we watch together." his words are mean but he scoots impossibly closer to you

you scoot over to make some extra space for him so he can lay down comfortably before squeezing yourself right next to him again. “you’re the one who said, and i quote ‘ i could give less of a shit about this stupid show, just don’t have anything better to do” he scrunches his nose at your crude impression of him. “ i don’t fuckin’ sound like that.”

“it’s what you sound like to me.” you retort.

he growls, nipping at your ear which causes you to let out a giggle mixed with a little squeal “needa get yer fuckin’ ears checked then.”

“i just started anyway. i can just rewind it” you lean forward to place your mouse back to the beginning and plop back on your pillow with a groan. katsuki snorts. “ i was gonna wait for you, but you were taking too long” you mumble out already invested in the images on screen.

katsuki knocks his forehead against the side of your head softly then also turns his attention to the screen. “ it’s shitty hair’s fault” he gruffs out “fucker kept on yappin’ about whatever the fuck, couldn’t leave.”

you fake gasp in shock. pretending to be hurt you place a hand on your chest and look at him wide eyed. he raises a brow “wow. i can’t believe you like kirishima more than me.” you turn your nose up at him and hold back a laugh when you see his expression morph from confused to straight up insulted.

“where the fuck d’you get that from?!” you can’t keep up the façade when you see his face and burst out laughing, his facial expressions are seriously something else. he relaxes slightly but he still doesn’t look amused. “i’m just joking. i know you just wanted to be nice” you reassure, his face relaxes and his shoulders sag as he releases a frustrated sigh. “you know, since he’s your friend.”

he cracks his head to look at you, wide eyed and brows furrowed he shoves his head against yours so hard he basically headbutts you. you let out a little yelp and laugh “don’t even start with that ! fucker ain’t my friend." he spits the word friend like it tastes gross in his mouth, it makes you laugh even harder. “right~” you sing.

you think things have calmed down after a little bit, your both watching your show, then katsuki suddenly knocks his forehead against your head again.

“hey.” he mumbles. you blink up at him waiting for him to finish. he chews at his lip and looks towards the screen then looks back at you, cheeks turning pink.

"ya know i don’t…like him more than you, right..?"

you tilt your head "who ?" you ask. he grunts like speaking is physically challenging, his face turning redder by the second “shitty hair. don’t like ‘im more than you." his eyes dart away then focus back on yours " don’t like anyone more than you."

you feel your cheeks flush and you suddenly feel extremely warm and giddy. you giggle and his cheeks darken in color "where's this coming from?" you chortled. he scoffs at you and pokes you in the stomach, turning back to the look at the screen to avoid your mushy warm loving gaze. "fuckin'—nowhere ! m'not allowed to…fuckin—!" he fumbles around for what to say. you decide to spare him and place your hands on his scorching cheeks, he struggles a little bit (barely) but let's you turn his head towards you, he pouts at you, trying his best to look intimidating but he just looks like a angry little kicked puppy.

"m'just teasing you , suki" you're rubbing his cheek with your thumb and his eyebrows stay furrowed despite him leaning into your touch "i know you don't like him more than me, if you did, i don't think you'd be here" he rolls his eyes and bites at the palm of your hand. you chuckle "i don't like anyone more than you, either" you're sure there are hearts in your eyes as you speak, you hope he can see them.

" 'f course you don’t." he mumbles out the words into your palms fast without missing a beat, it tickles. he smirks into your hand when he sees you roll your eyes at him, he truly is a little shit.

"don't like nobody more than you." he proclaims quietly, closing his eyes, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks.

"yeah" you purr, the hearts in your eyes spread all around your body to the tips of your fingers and toes, it makes you warm and soft, and so fond of him. you don't like anybody more than katsuki, you can't. not when he opens his eyes and gazes at you with burning cheeks but hearts in his eyes and you hope the ones in yours spread all around his body too, because his have started to intermingle with yours, coursing through your veins.

"yeah." you sigh, " yeah me neither."

you can't like anyone more than you do katsuki as you watch your show together.

@slashersl0t i wrote this thanks to you twin <3 !

[semisolidmind]

if you must know what's keeping from drawing fanart:

(one of my self assigned projects for this semester was to make a series of alternate reality magazine covers. i figured a slasher version of sp/orts illustrated would go over well, haha. made two versions cause i liked both poses too much)

[tac-the-unseen]

Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Will Graham Headcannons

Fluff, Minor edits for formatting!

Involves: Cooking, sleeping, art, tattoos, piercings, dates, funny little ideas

•While Hannibal is mostly the one cooking when you, him, and will are in a kitchen together it get a bit chaotic.

•You're decent at cooking but Will is a hot mess compared to you and Hannibal (that doesn't mean he's a bad cook, just not as good as you guys are). But you and Hannibal have no problem guiding and teaching him. It's a great bonding experience for all of you.

•When Hannibal talks in the kitchen you and Will call him 'chef'. Hannibal loves it but will never admit to it.

•All of you share a bed but you also have separate bed in another room that is used when one of you really needs your sleep or space. None of you talk about but it has really saved your relationship...multiple times.

•Hannibal mostly uses it when he has an important event coming up and needs to get a full night's rest.

•Will mostly uses it when he feels like the world is caving in on him and needs to get away.

•You mostly use it when you're mad that them or need to work a late shift.

•Hannibal loves taking you and Will to museums and art galleries. He loves digging through the layers of the art to get to its over all meanings.

•Everyone knows Hannibal likes to play the 'sugar daddy' role but he appreciates when you or Will try and contribute with the costs.

•Will isn't a fan of pet names. He thinks it's weird and kind of degrading, but if you or Hannibal use one or two, he won't complain. Especially if it's to comfort him during an episode.

•That being said if you call him William he immediately thinks he's in trouble for something. If he's not in trouble he will pout about you using his full name.

•On the other hand Hannibal loves pet/nick names. If you call him darling or love he will internally swoon.

•Will doesn't like to be touched and you and Hannibal are not expections. He can deal with touch but he's not happy about it. If you touch him while he's having a break down he with scream, shout, and cry.

•You can get away with cuddling at night but just barely. Be careful about your hand placement.

•If Will is losing an argument he'll say 'nah huh' and Hannibal without a beat will say 'yeah huh' right back.

•You and Will have woken up after a nap to find Hannibal sketching you several times. If he finds either of you asleep he'll run to get his sketch book and maybe some tea and gets to work.

•Hannibal is 10,000% a bridezilla. If you could get married he would be a nightmare to deal with. He might call off the whole wedding if he doesn't get the flowers he wants. And the catering, dear god the catering. He got so upset he thought about just making the food himself...day of...

•If Hannibal ever gets sick he feel guilty because he feels like he should be the one taking care of you two, not that other way around.

•If you have tattoos or piercings Hannibal will just and stare that them. He wants to mesmerize every piece of you. In his spare time he finds him self drawing up concept art for more future tattoos. He doesn't show you any of them,but if you find one and end up getting it tattooed on you he might just have a heart attack.

•Very Interested in the tattoos/piercings healing process. Like he knows but he just likes to watch.

•Will likes to trace said tattoos and even considers getting a matching one with you!

•If Hannibal spots you and/or will getting overwhelmed overstimulated in public he hold your hand and whisper affirmations to you two.

Thanks for reading <3

[cryobabyy]

Cooper Adams x Fem!Reader

Part (1/5)

oops my hand slipped and now I'm writing unhinged fanfiction for an M. Night Shyamalan movie.

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

OR

You work the graveyard shift at a hardware store with extended hours to put you through pre-med. You meet a DILF who is definitely not The Butcher.

Part 1/5

Glib (adjective)

1: Marked by ease and fluency in speaking or writing often to the point of being insincere or deceitful; superficial, smooth, slippery.

Working the graveyard shift at an extended-hour hardware store wasn't your first choice, but the pay was decent, and it was the only option that wouldn't clash with your med school classes. It wasn't so bad after pounding 2 iced coffees and a shot of espresso. Customers were few and far between— mostly construction workers, hotel maintenance guys, and the occasional emergency plumber looking for the perfect thingamajig to help undo the 1 am explosion of some poor soul's toilet. It was quiet enough to study; you only had to sit there and ring up the same crowd of blue-collar night owls until 3 am. 

And then there was him.

The odd one out.

A handsome man, 40's, tall, neat looking, dark brown eyes, with a picture of his kids in his wallet. He was friendly. Aggressively friendly. If he was your neighbor, you would tell your friends about the 6'3 Dilf with 90's heartthrob hair next door. The type to smile and wave if you catch him mowing the lawn when you grab the morning mail.

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

There's a voice in the back of your head that sounds just like him, declaring the stranger to be a 'white picket fence bastard' and a 'smarmy wasp motherfucker’ in his thick Philly accent. If he were still alive, he would tell you to watch out for him– that he was a deep state operative, a gang member, a lizard person, and other paranoid schizophrenic-fueled delusions. Toward the end, when he blocked out the windows with newspaper and craft glue, and covered all the carbon monoxide detectors with tin foil and duct tape, he insisted you should be afraid of everyone. You were only afraid of him. 

Sure, you held your keys between your knuckles when you walked to your car after night classes, and covered your laptop webcam with a sticky note, but you weren't your father.

No one was following you. No one was watching you. No one was preying on you. And the middle-aged man with a picture of his freckle-faced, blonde, blue-eyed children in his wallet was not a serial killer. 

He even told you himself.

"Hell of a lineup, am I right?" He quips, offering a sheepish laugh. "I mean... a staple gun, drain cleaner, and tarp. I won't blame 'ya if you call the cops, but I promise it's not what it looks like."

You look up from the register to find a warm smile and upturned eyebrows– an almost embarrassed expression. An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, the only sound between you two being a 24-hour soft rock radio station crackling through the ancient speakers. The stranger sighs, seemingly aware of his social misstep.

"My wife- I'm building her a Gardening shed. I'm putting up the insulation and drywall this week. And the Drano is for my kitchen sink. Keeps getting clogged. My son is fascinated by the garbage disposal for some odd reason. I don't even want to know what kind of shit he's been pouring down there." He rambles awkwardly. Guilt twists your heartstrings at the mention of the stranger's family. You may have inherited your father's suspicion, but you wouldn't let it control you.

"I've seen weirder." You lie with a smile. The stranger chuckles, broad shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Really? I could always go back and grab some bleach, duct tape, rubber gloves, the works." 

You can't help but laugh at his corny effort to diffuse the tension. It's surprisingly effective.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, sweetheart. I'm sure you meet some weirdos working a night shift like this."

"Not really. Just you…" You trail off, squinting to read the embroidered name on his windbreaker. You notice the emblem right above it– Ardmore Fire Department. He's a firefighter.

"Cooper Adams. " He holds out a hand for you to shake. Your father's paranoia creeps into your mind. You freeze, meeting his dark brown gaze. Dad's gruff voice echoes in your head.

His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

He's plotting something.

Smarmy wasp motherfucker.

White picket fence bastard.

You swallow hard, shake his hand, smile back, and tell him your name– but only your first. You're not your father, but you're not a fucking idiot either.

"See? We're not strangers anymore. "  

"I guess not."

Cooper carts out his selection of items and waves goodbye, receipt caught between his two index fingers.

"Nice meeting you, sweetheart. Oh, and tell them to hire another cashier! You shouldn't be by yourself this late. God knows what kind of trouble is lurking around. Stay Safe!" He smiles again, his voice coated with the candor of a concerned neighbor. This time it reaches the glint of his eyes.

AO3

NEXT CHAPTER

[slasherboyfriendcomic]

I want to draw more of the Genderbend

[ayautjaslover]

Merry (almost) Christmas, here are some Christmas space cats

[pinksilkribbons]

MAMA SAID: Yandere! Jason Voorhees x F! Reader

CW/TW: bullying, sort of stalking (?), ableism, kidnapping, canon divergence, death (not mentioned in detail at all)

i might make a part two if you guys want it idk. also the end is kinda rushed sorry lol. i love jason sm and i really tried to explore his character a bit here, specifically younger jason.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you met at camp.

This was your first time attending and you were pretty nervous. Your whole life you've always been a little shy around new people, and your mother decided it would be the perfect opportunity for you to make some new friends.

No matter how much you whined and begged she was dead set on you going. You even faked a fever, and she still wouldn't budge! And so, here you were: Hot, sweaty, and carrying an overpacked duffel bag.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who has been to camp crystal lake a few times now. Thanks to his past experiences he knows his way around pretty well. He also knows who to avoid and not mess with. Since a lot of people like to pick on him, he's kind of took it upon himself to be prepared for anything.

Thats why he makes sure to hide behind some trees, closely watching the entrance. It's important that he knows what to expect or, in this case, who to expect.

First comes in Mia and her twin brother Mikey. The two of them don't really mess with him much so there isn't much concern there. Next, Terri. Terri was pretty mean to him, but she never got physical. As long as he stayed quiet and out of her way things should run smoothly.

A few more campers who he isn't familiar with walk through. A sick feeling sets in his stomach. The kind that tells you something bad is going to happen. His mother warned him of this. They were expecting far more campers than usual this year...he wishes he could say it excited him.

To his dismay, the last few campers rush through. A terrible chill runs through his body at the sight of his bully. Or, well, bullies. There's a small group of kids who especially get a kick out of messing with him.

Last year they set up a "prank" in his cabin and poured an entire bucket of water over his head while he slept. When he started choking, they just ran off while giggling. If his mother didn't come to help him who knows what could've happened.

Among the group is a new person. A girl, actually. A pretty one at that. Jason zeroes in on the pretty girl as they all walk in together. The leader of the group, Alex, is walking much closer to the girl than anyone else.

Of course, she's probably his girlfriend. I mean, they're pretty young but he's seen a few people claim to be dating anyway. But he's noticed it's a different kind of dating compared to what the counselors do. Kind of weird.

Jason sometimes wishes he could have a girlfriend. Maybe even just a friend. He just wants someone to talk to. Someone to play with. Someone to look at him and not be disgusted or scared.

"Jason! I made your favorite!" His mom calls from a distance.

As weird as it may seem, Jason feels a connection to the girl already. If he worked up the courage, he'd like to speak with her...even if it's just once. He really wanted to stay and watch her some more, but he knew better than to worry his mama. So, he walks through the woods and makes his way towards the cafeteria.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who has been discreetly searching for you. Most campers are near the campfire making s'mores, but you're nowhere to be found. As risky as it is Jason makes a decision. Besides, there's a camp counselor not too far from here so he should be safe.

"Hey, Alex? Can I ask you s-something?"

The blonde swifty turns back and scowls at him. Jason already feels a sense of fear creeping up his neck. "What do you want, freak?"

With a deep breathe he continues. "Uhm...what happened to your friend? The...girl?" The last part comes out as if he's questioning if he saw correctly. If that girl was even real at all.

Alex's face seems to get even more annoyed by the second. He jumps up and hands his friend the pack of marshmallows he was holding. The bully glances around, clearly checking to see if any adults or counselors are within range. The two of them meet eyes and there's an unspoken agreement.

He won't do anything when a counselor is just over there.

A leaf crunches under his shoe as he moves closer. Jason wants to move back, every inch of his body is ushering him to get away, but his fear keeps his feet right where they are.

"Listen to me, mama's boy", his words come out venomously, "[Name] is my cousin and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from her." Tears surface near the end of Jason's eyes at the harsh tone. He feels ashamed for even crying anymore. It's happened so many times that he should be used to it by now.

Alex and his friends cackle loudly. Whatever they're saying he's sure it isn't nice. No matter, though. Jason already feels himself cheering up. He speeds up and swings open the cafeteria door, making his mother jump in surprise.

The boy can't help the wide grin taking over his face.

"Goodness, baby! Knock next time. I almost had a heart attack."

His mother's words don't even register in his mind. He may not know where the girl is, but he knows her name now. That's a win in his book!

Even her name is pretty.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who finally sees you again during lunch. A few of the newer campers were calling him names so he ran off with his sandwich in hand. He finally came to a stop once he was a little deeper in the woods, and there you were, sitting against a tree and drawing a sketch of the lake.

A blush rushed to his cheeks and he nervously ducked behind a nearby tree. Unfortunately, you'd heard him and jumped up rather quickly.

"Who's there?" You asked, eyes scanning for anyone nearby. He stayed quiet and hoped you'd just dismiss the sound.

"I'm serious, Alex. After that stunt you pulled last night you're lucky I didn't tell anyone." You seemed to pause, as if you were waiting for a response. "Hello...Alex? Is it you?"

Jason felt a bit bad when he seen you so scared. You held the sketch book to your chest tightly and your legs were trembling in fear. His mom taught him to always be honest and true so, maybe he should just come out. "Uhm. It isn't Alex..." He said, slowly peeking his head from around the tree.

"Oh."

The two of you stood there awkwardly taking in each other. To his surprise you didn't seem disgusting or scared. Just curious, if anything. He felt a little nervous being looked at so thoroughly. You hated him already, didn't you?

"Sorry about that. I'm [Name]. Jason, right?" You tucked the sketchbook under your arm and reached out with the other, offering him a shake. Jason's hand trembled against your own, yet still firmly shook all the while.

You hadn't spoken with him much, but he has quite the reputation at camp, so you've heard of him. No good things unfortunately. He didn't seem like a bad guy to you though. Just a different one.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you became friends with ever since that handshake. He introduced you to his mom and she was more than excited to learn her son made a friend.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you sneak into the cafeteria with at night to steal some sweet treats. The two of you haven't got caught once since the counselors are never doing their job anyway.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you defend from bullies. Including your cousin Alex. Sometimes it ends with the both of you bleeding, but you don't care about that! Jason is your friend and you're not going to stand by and let him get bullied!

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who loves watching you draw. At night after scoring some cookies, the two of you sit near the lake and he watches you sketch. His favorite was a self-portrait you drew, and since he liked it so much, you signed it and let him keep it.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who can't find you at breakfast time. When he asked him mom she simply told him that she didn't know. So, he decided to go check on you. As he approaches the girls cabin a counselor stops him with a strict look on her face.

"Can I help you?" Jason fails to mask his look of annoyance. Since when did they start caring about the kids around here? "M-my friend [Name]. I couldn't find her at breakfast and wanted to make sure she's okay."

"Oh, her. Yeah, she's sick. For some reason they're making me watch the kid." Her emphasis on 'me' made it seem like it was an insult for her to have to watch [Name]. How stuck-up.

From this alone Jason could tell today would be a rough one.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who suddenly gets ambushed by Alex and several other campers when he walks back near the campfire. They rush towards him and begin pulling the white mask off his face, shouting insults all the while.

"I heard [Name] got sick! Bet he gave her the cooties!"

"Ew, look at his face! I can see why he wears that thing around."

"You're such a mama's boy. Too good to hang out with the rest of us, huh?"

A terrible feeling settles on his chest. He'd been bullied before, but so many people throwing insults at him all at once was a lot to handle. Too much to handle.

With newfound adrenaline Jason runs off, not even realizing that he's nearing the dock. All he can think about is getting away. He just wants it to stop. He hates himself. He hates his face, his personality, he hates all of it. A part of him wishes he was never born.

He just wants to be left alone!

The voices of the campers get louder. They're Approaching. They're getting closer. And suddenly, Jason is right back to that same day.

That day where he approached Alex and asked about [Name]. That same day he couldn't move and was just frozen with fear. He hated how he felt then. And he never wants to feel that way again.

He has to move! He has to do something!!

So... he jumps into the lake.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who misses you more than anything. He misses his mother too, of course, but she was still with him. In spirit at least.

"You should go find her, Jason", his mother tells him.

And He wants to. He wants to find you. He wants to hug you again. He wants to eat cookies with you again. He wants to sit by the trees and watch you draw again. He misses his old life. He misses you.

"So go find her and re-live that life."

If he leaves then who will watch over camp? Forget it. It would be selfish of him to leave their home unattended for his own desires. Anything could happen while he's gone! Besides, there's no telling how long it'll take him to find you.

The voice of his mother laughs a bit. "You're so sweet, my son. I will lead you to her. A quick trip. Here and back."

Jason was still hesitant to agree. But if mama said it'll be okay, then it should be okay. Right?

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who finds your apartment quicker than he expected. Judging by the boxes scattered throughout different rooms, he's assuming you've only just moved in.

He snoops around a bit out of curiosity. Can you blame him? It’s been years since you’ve seen each other. He finds a picture of you graduating high-school in the living room. He realizes then that he’s never met your parents.

Moving forward, he creaks open the door to your bedroom. In the corner he spots a canvas with a few strokes of paint on the surface. He isn’t sure what you were trying to paint, but it makes him happy to know you’re still into art just as much as back then.

Luckily you live alone. He was a little worried about having to kill someone in order to bring you back with him. He didn't want to ruin your clothes with blood or anything like that!

The second he sees your sleeping face he feels a warm feeling hug his heart. It had been too long. You lost all that baby fat and now had a mature, even more beautiful face. Not that he expected any different. You were always so gorgeous to him.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who grabs you out of bed and throws you against his shoulder. You wake up pretty quickly and start kicking and squirming as soon as you register what’s going on. Who the hell even is this?!

“Hey! L-let me go!!” You start banging your fists against his back but it doesn’t even seem to affect him. He just keeps walking and walking, not speaking a single word the entire time.

Eventually, you begin sobbing. Your throat goes dry from how much you’ve been screaming. It is pretty late, but how come no one is coming to save you? Why can’t anyone hear you?

The cold air is eating at your legs since you slept in a cami top and some shorts. Your captor still has yet to speak. He also has a super tight grip. It would definitely bruise. If you even make it out of this alive.

“Please…” You beg, slowly losing hope. There are no street lights, cars, houses…nothing. He was taking you to a secluded area to do who knows what to you. This was the end. This was how you’d die.

After a few more minutes the man grunts and swings open a door. It’s pitch black outside so you aren’t exactly sure where you’re at. “Please, just let me go.”

He stays silent and lays you down on a bed surprisingly gently. Before you can even blink he’s binding your hands against the headboard with some rope. His hands move fast to make sure you have no chances of running away.

You feel more tears fall down your cheeks. How could this happen to you? Why was this happening to you?

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who feels bad for tying your hands up. He didn’t miss the way you winced in pain. Mama said it would be necessary until you get used to living here though.

When she says it’s time, he’ll allow you to take them off.

“She’s so beautiful, Jason. It’s only a matter of time until she gets comfortable with you again. Until then, she’ll have to stay like this. . .”

He hates this. Jason just wants to untie you and hug you like old times! He hates seeing you so sad, so scared. He feels bad for even doing this in the first place.

He trusts his mama, though. So for now, he’ll stay patient and wait for you to come around.

Just like mama said.

[slashersdaddy]

Slashers Favorite cuddle positions!

Includes: Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Jason Voorhees, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis

Vincent Sinclair: Vincent Loves to hold you on his chest, wrapped in his arms so you can hear his heartbeat and he can see you breathe, it reminds him he isnt alone. Bo Sinclair:

Bo Loves to lay in your chest (esp if you have tits) and let you play with his hair after a long day of work, he loves hearing your heartbeat and feeling like he has someone who he can lean on Lester Sinclair: Lester loves spooning you, he likes being the big spoon more but wouldnt mind being the little spoon from time to time, feeling your warmth against him is a stark reminder hes not alone and that hes not a monster, something he often forgets given his family. Micheal Myers: like a weird plank??? like hes on his back and your cuddling into his side Jason voorhees: You curled up on his chest like hes a big ass teddy bear

Stu Macher:

preferably wrapped in his arms, hes the big spoon, but hes cuddly so hell take anything, he esp likes his head in your lap.

Billy Loomis: Your head in his lap OR laying on top of you fully- yes its crushing you, no he will not move.

[un-sweetenedicedtea]

“He’s my bbg”

And then it’s a man with PTSD, war crimes, a 50,000$ bounty, and if you even touched him he’d beat you violently to death

[bludragongal]

This is how Jacob started to fall for Kaylee

[all-about-bride]

Beetlejuice!

(NSFW comic ahead)

Beetlejuice!

[semisolidmind]

have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight

(a vintage style slasher and his sweet lil honey of a final girl. happy halloween. on a tuesday, no less)

[festering-obsession]

How You Fell Into Their Trap II

TW: Hollywood-ized Disorders, Creepypasta, Slight Canon Divergence, Violence, Blood, Cannibalism, One Mention of Pregnancy (no plot relevance), Toxic Relationships, Stalking, Slight Suggestive Content, Kidnapping

Ticci Toby:

It was senior year of highschool when you encountered Toby Rogers himself. By then, nearly everyone at school had knew of the boy, his reputation. His stutters, his low self-esteem, his weird behaviors, but the rumor of how the poor bastard could not even feel pain fluttered around even more. Fortunately enough, he had switched to homeschooling. Poor boy.

In a way, you pitied him. However, you were not high on the popularity chain that comes with the shackles of high school. You tried to keep to yourself and graduate, keep away from any negative attention and keep leering eyes off of you.

Yet, fate did not have the in plan for you.

You had met his sister at your part time job, Lyra was her not, wasn't it? Time seems to fly as you're stuck in this mansion.

She had talked about her brother at times, how she feared he was falling behind and her parents did not seem to care it all. But, she was too busy working to help with school. Before you knew it, you volunteered yourself to help tutor him. Her smile was so bright that day when you told her.

You didn't think too much of it before it was too much to try and cut off.

Toby was very skittish and nervous, constantly pulling at his skin and hair nervously when you were near. As you were trying to go over calculus, you could not help but turn around and finally break the edge of professionalism, despite being the same in age.

"Toby, I promise you, I am not going to judge you. I'm hear to help you, and besides I don't have any room to judge..." You say, trying to offer him a hand on the desk but he shies away.

"H-How do I know?" He says, his hands grasping at his jacket.

"Well, I'm not doing this for money for starters..." You begin. "And your sister said we might have some things in common? I like movies..."

He nods, his brown eyes carefully watching you. "Yeah, m-me too..."

His courage slowly built up around you.. as well as his possessive nature. Everytime his father would break a beer bottle or his mom would yell, he'd grab to you for security. His hand clutched onto you as if you'd dissappear.

The days you didn't work, you'd head back home after school usually. One day of the week helping tutor Toby would turn into any day you did not have work.

The days you did work, he'd near be constantly blowing up your phone with messages. Anything from what he's eating, how he finished his homework, to what his favorite color is, what his father yelled at him this time for...

One time you forgot to mute your phone and it went off in class. You had to turn it into the teacher, and did not get it back until the end of the day. By the time you turned your phone back on, it was flooded with messages.

"Hey y/n!! You haven't responded in your usual time are you busy????? :D"

It didn't take long for the messages to grow more frantic.

"Are you hurt?"

"Do you not like me anymore?"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't leave me please don't leave me"

You called him as soon as you could and went to his house. Thankfully, his father was out, probably at a bar. As soon as you opened the door, Toby pulled you into his arms, grabbing onto you desperately as he sobbed. You rubbed his back, letting him go until he decided when he had emptied all his tears. You made sure to keep your phone silent at school after that.

Despite his already possessive nature, it took a turn for the worse when unfortunately... His sister died in a car accident. His pathetic father had lived.

You were there for her tiny funeral. And most importantly, you stayed glued to Toby's side the entire time. His tears were gone by the time of the actual funeral, no more to give as he had run dry. Yet, his iron grip on your hand and blank expression told you differently of his grief.

The days after Lyra's death was a flipped switch in Toby's brain.

As you got closer to graduation, Toby was more possessive. He had convinced you to quit your job. You need to focus on your school, right? And help him too, right?

If you somehow was not convinced to stay the night at Toby's house, he'd be on the phone with you until you were almost asleep.

At that point, it felt like your life revolved around Toby. You'd tell him anything... except your college admissions. Telling him you'd be out of arm's reach or heaven forbid meet new people, he'd throw himself into

It did not take long before Toby's sanity had finally left. You were staying over at his house, his drunken father had opened the door in a flood of rage.

"Toby fuckin... Rogers..." He slurred his words. "Did you knock this bitch up? Oh I swear if you, if I have to deal with a mini one of you, I'll fucking kill it... And that bitch!" He rushed forward to grab you and slam you out of the bed.

You did not know how to react, your mouth agape. You did not even interact with Ron before, how was he just now acknowledging you?

Toby had slammed into him first, away from laying his hands on you. He dropped to the floor along with him.

"Don't... Don't you fucking touch her.." He near growled, his brown eyes in a glare. You stared at the scene in front of you, just now pushing out the bed as Toby looked off into the distance, seemingly into nothing.

"Lyra, y-yes, I will protect her..." He said, hands shaking. "I, I'll make father regret k-killing you, too."

He stood up, his father groaning in the background as he gripped your hands. "You'll be with me fo-forever right? Just li-like in the movies we w-watched?"

You didn't know what to do or say besides nod. "Yeah, Toby..." Your eyes couldn't leave his father laying on the ground.

"Leave. Now." Toby ordered. "I have t-to do something for us. For o-our future, tog-together." It didn't take much for you to run out his house, confused and scared.

You were lucky enough to not see the grisly scene. But you were not lucky enough to not see the house light on fire, collapsing onto your knees as the fire rage on in the night sky.

Your friend was missing and you had to continue life as if he wasn't. A few years had passed as you couldn't shake it out your mind. Could you have saved him? Stopped him from killing his family and then himself?

Years and therapy helped lessen the pain, but it didn't for Toby. Even in his service to Slenderman, he couldn't shake you from his head. Slenderman's reward for his loyalty was the reveal of your location.

And that's why you are in his bed. It did not take him long to kidnap you and haul you back. The mansion was nice at least, even for a bunch of serial killers and paranormal creatures. Though the smell of blood nearly never left the halls.

You turned over in the bed as Toby gripped onto you, eyes lost in your own as you continued to think of how you ended up here.

"Th-Thinking..?" He asks as he moves a piece of your hair out your face.

"Yeah.." You mumble out as he holds onto you tighter, pushing him away would only cause him to freak out and worry if you hated him.

"Y-You know, I'm so-so happy you're here." He smiles as he rubs his cheek against you. "All th-those tasks for Slenderman, worth i-it for you..And, I have y-you here as mine."

"I um, I'm glad to have you back too.." You nod at him.

"I th-think, I f-fell in love with you... The f-first time I saw you." He mumbles out, hands shaking in excitement as he holds you closer to him. "And wh-what do y-you know? You're my-my girlfriend now!"

"Funny how life works, hm?" You muse out, looking out the window from your captivity.

"C-Can I have a k-kiss?" He asks. "Y-You don't mind.. the scar-scar right?" He looks down sheepishly. You've learned its better to give him what he wants, then to deal with an episode.

You cup his cheek, slowly pressing your lips over his cold ones. You can feel him smile against yours as he holds your body closer to his.

He'd never truly let you go.

Eyeless Jack:

You never felt alone, not in your apartment. And when you were with other people, you felt as if you were being hunted. It was just near about driving you insane.

Not to mention the fact of your doors opening, floors creaking, window being cracked open, random footprints of shoes. Maybe you really were just going crazy.

It didn't help the fact you'd be missing things either. A random shirt, chapstick, hell, one of your favorite underwear was gone missing.

But even then, as much as you looked around your apartment in fear, deadbolt all your locks, you saw nothing. Even when you'd have a friend stay the night, they would laugh it off and think you were playing a joke on them. They never saw anything either.

Then, it finally began to happen. Crumbs of what you thought your delusion was into reality. A part of you was glad it wasn't you going insane, the other part not quite realizing the nightmare that was about to play out for you.

You had gone out with your friends, a celebration. They had dropped you off at your apartment as you were giggling to yourself the entire ride, tipsy and having a great time.

Yet, you did not go straight to your apartment as the car drove by. You went to the convenience store as your mind swirled with getting snacks and a sweet treat.

It was a dark night, very few people at night and each one keeping to themselves. Your mind was too sloshed to hear the echoing footsteps behind you. Your eyes were too trained at the bright glowing lights of the store as an icee was the only thing circulating your mind.

You were pulled into an alley sharply. An old man in a black balaclava had you pinned with a gun against your head as he demanded everything. Purse, wallet, cash, whatever you had on you. That snapped you of your drunken haze.

Just as you were about to give the man everything as tears were going down your face, the man crumpled to his knees, gun dropping.

Scapels lined his back, each one with the intent on landing on a fatal area. Your mouth was opened, clutching your purse as you stared at the lifeless man before you.

And that's when you first saw him. A tall man in a black hoodie. The only defining trait about him was his dark blue mask... with some kind of substance dropping from under the eyes.

He looked you up and down, head tilting to the side as he walked over the man, pulling out each scapel pulled out from behind his back as he crouched over him. You didn't know why you didn't run, all your senses urged you to run as his eyes - or mask? - never left your form as he pulled out each weapon.

Then, he lifted his mask slightly as he brought the scapel to his mouth, a long black tongue slithering out as he tasted the blood.

That finally got you to move, running out of the alley straight home. Your breath uneasy as all you could think of was your blood being on that scapel instead. You slammed the door shut as you started hysterically telling your friends, your flip-phone shaking in your grasp.

By the time you finally fell asleep, the sun was up. You pulled yourself out of bed as you pushed the door open, half expecting to see the monster there.

What was on the news told you it was not a nightmare. A man named Edwin was found dead in his home by his brother Mitch. His brother was telling the news reporter what he saw the night before he left his brother's house. A man in a blue mask, but they pushed it off as a bad omen before the tragedy stuck. Then, it moved onto the unidentified body found in the alley. You bit on your nails as they revealed the details. He was found disembowled. That... that wasn't right. All that man did was just kill him, right?

You lived the next weeks in terror, over analyzing each step and news story just in case you saw the man again. Just as you felt the horror was finally leaving your senses, your nightmare would appear again.

You fell asleep on the couch, the movie you were watching long forgotten as it bored you to sleep. You awoke, feeling something wet hit your face.

Black eyes were trained over your body, blood slipping down from the mask hitting your face and just as you were about to scream, his cold grey hand held itself over your mouth.

Your hands scrambled to push him off, but he stayed there, silent and watching as you were trying to crawl him off. He put a finger over his mouth, telling you to settle. Stubbornly, you did and he finally retracted his hand.

"Finally, I have you in my reach." He said, voice rough and calloused. You couldn't help but hear the tiny amount of joy in his tone.

"Are... Are you going to kill me? Eat my organs like you did that man?" You said quickly, anger in your words.

He tilted his head before he chuckled. "Kill you? No, no, you're too precious for that... Well, I was going to at first."

You sucked in your breath as the monster laughed again lowly, caressing your cheek. "But, you grew on me. And, I think I'd like you better alive and warm with me then being a cold corpse, though I'd bet your kidneys would taste so sweet.."

You tried pushing him away but he got closer, sitting next to you on the couch as he held you tighter, his grip on your waist unmoving.

"As for eating you? Was my orginal plan, you look like such a sweet thing to devour and so easy, too. Your locks were not hard to pick through." He sighed as his head craned down to your neck. "But, I watched you like a pet. Your habits were endearing, and you looked so lost all the time... Why not take you in for myself?"

"F-Fuck no, I'm not your pet and you're a murderer..." You said, feeling his tongue graze at your neck.

"But I saved you, didn't I?" He murmured, tasting the nervous sweat building against your skin. "You taste so good..."

"And killed others. Fuck, I should call 911 on you..." You said as you felt his tongue gather your sweat.

"I already destroyed your phone. You won't be needing it anytime soon." He said nonchalantly as he pulled back, licking his finger. You couldn't help but notice the sharp teeth lining his mouth.

"Please, please just let me go..." You cry against him. "Or just eat me, kill me, I don't want you to take me."

"Eating you would be the ultimate form of intimacy for us.." He muses. "But, I like you too much to not see you around. Besides, there's... other ways of eating you without killing you." And you could almost hear the smirk in his voice as you glared at him, flustered.

You felt a sharp sting in your hip before seeing him drop a syringe to the floor.

"What... What the hell?" You said as you push away from him, dropping to the ground as your movements grew sluggish.

"Just enough to knock you out. You'd draw too much attention being conscious." He says, standing above you. "Don't worry, you'll wake up somewhere better, with me."

You turn onto your stomach, vision blurring as you clawed on the floor trying to get to the door. You heard him laugh behind you, before you felt his shoe land on your back.

"Just go ahead and give in, surrender yourself." You hear as you feel yourself growing near slumber, your mind numbing until you were out.

He carefully picked you in his arms, it would be a good distance from the forrest to get you out this damned city.

But now that his prey was in his grasp, he didn't mind.