#slasher oc x reader

[yanderu-deredere]

i think you mention that fujio is very beefy so could you do him and the other bigger yans reaction to a smaller darling and like she's wearing their clothes (alternatively their clothes and nothing else?)

a/n: awwwe i think this is so cute and also a really terrific way to die so anyway i loved this request! hope you loved the way i ended up writing it! also i only wrote for some of my taller yans + fujio (love me a short king) so if you'd like to see the other yans in a request like this, send one in!

warning: female reader as requested, size difference where reader is significantly shorter, mentioned scent kink in isamu's and mel's, thigh riding in soren's

emm fiala ★ profile

a lot of her fashion is skin tight clothing. the only thing she really owns that would be anything close to loose on her would be her biker jacket and, even then, it's still a bit on the tighter side

but, if she is that much larger than you, it would be larger than you

if you love going on bike rides with her often, she'd be the kind of sweet wife who'd always give you her biker jacket

she'd never tell you that it's becos it satisfies a possessive instinct inside of her that tells her to mark you as hers

she just likes you thinking that she's being nice and polite LOL

she's always had a problem with being taller than the average woman? and it's definitely been a problem for past lovers so she always worries that it'll be a problem for you

but then she sees what you look like naked underneath your clothes and, suddenly, she doesn't think that anymore LMAO

"Naughty girly, playin' with m'jacket like that." You saw Emm eye you up and down, that look in her eye only darkening as she walked towards you.

You just leaned further back, your face only getting hotter as the jacket fell open, revealing more of your skin and your breasts to her hungry gaze.

It was a wonder the jacket fit you so loosely. The sleeves even went past your finger tips. When it was on her, it fit her so snuggly. Then again, she was a head or so taller than you and she was so much more muscular.

She got on the bed, clicking her tongue as she opened the jacket even more, letting it fall off one of your shoulders and then the other, her mouth decending onto your neck.

You let her, of course, your head tilting one way to give her the space she wanted to mark you however she pleased.

"God, didn' kno' you were such a small li'l thing." She groaned, her crotch suddenly meeting yours, the rough of her denim against your bare pussy sending a zing up your spine "My li'l darlin', am'i'rite?"

You nodded, whimper leaving your lips as your hands scrambled to grab onto her shoulders, the sleeves of her biker's jacket bunching up at your elbows.

"Fuck." She huffed before pushing your knee down onto the bed and effectively spreading your legs apart, her other hand holding your other knee to her hip.

"Don'no why it riles me up so much, darl', but it does." She chuckled a little, all breathy and soft as she trailed her hand from your knee and up higher, fingers ghosting your thigh, admiring the way her palm looked so big against the side of your leg.

Then, her hand was on the very inside of your thigh, close enough to where you wanted her but not exactly close enough.

"You are my li'l darlin', aren't you?" She teased, her thumb brushing against your clit, rolling it under the pad of her thumb, hard enough to send sparks up your spine but not hard enough to really get you going.

So, of course, you nodded hastily, another whimper leaving your lips "O-Of course. Always your darling. Always."

She gave you a kiss on the cheek as a reward but, when your hips pathetically jerked up, she chuckled again and pressed her thumb harder down on your clit "My greedy li'l princess."

"I'll give you all ya' want an' more, I promise."

isamu lowell ★ profile

a lot of isamu's fashion is super plain. he doesn't really dwell much on what to wear. its whatever is the easiest to move around, the cheapest to buy, whatever looks good

a lot of his clothes are hoodies, sweatshirts, joggers, plain tshirts, etc. perfect things to steal, if you ask me.

if you're his mate or his darling, he'd be the type to always sneak his clothes into your clothes anyway. he likes the thought of you wearing his clothes but not for any possessive reason

he just likes his clothes smelling like you LOL after you wear his clothes, he wears them and it feels nice and comfy

if you wear his clothes with nothing underneath in a more provocative manner, however...

"Hey, I'm a little late for work, do you know where--" Isamu glanced into the room before the words he was saying immediately died on his tongue.

He stared at you, his fists clenching and unclenching.

You sat there, batting your eyelashes at him, the sweetest expression on your face. You were wearing the hoodie he had left on the bed yesterday, your smell and his smell mixing perfectly on the fabric.

It was so big on you too. You were swimming in it.

It reminded him so much of how much bigger he was than you, of how much you trusted him not to hurt you. He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

"Mate." He groaned, his hands flying up to cover his face as his ears grew hot. When he heard you laugh, he growled "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." You had tittered out, enjoying his suffering all too much.

He didn't like that, didn't like how you challenged him, how you teased him.

Isamu stalked forward, frown on his face. You just giggled and spread yourself on the bed, letting him get a peak of what was underneath the hoodie of his.

Nothing.

He was never going to make it to work. But, honestly, it felt like the last thing that mattered in his mind at that very moment.

Isamu didn't even hesitate as he pinned you down on the bed, his suddenly sure hands wrapping your thighs around his waist and his lips meeting yours in a messy kiss.

As he manhandled you, his hoodie rode up in the scuffle, revealing your stomach and some of your breasts. Usually, the sight made him bashful. Instead, it made him even harder.

This was a side of Isamu you only saw when you really riled him up.

And, from the sound of the groan that left his lips, he was worked up. It was even more evident when he fished his cock out of his sweats and lined it up against your pussy.

When he pulled away from kissing you to stare down, it felt almost surreal. The way the tip of his cock almost touched your belly button. How he looked so big and thick against you like that.

You whined as you looked down too, pout playing on your lips as you ground your bare pussy against the underside of his shaft. "'Samu?"

Yeah, no, he was never going to make it to work.

mel lowell ★ profile

mel is a lot like isamu where a lot of the clothes he wears are really plain and he doesn't really care what they look like on him

unlike isamu, though, mel tends to run a bit hotter? so a lot of his clothes show off more skin. stuff like tank tops, jeans, flannel, etc. he doesn't wear things like hoodies often

he'd also be a lot like isamu where he'd love his mate or darling to wear his clothes often but he wouldn't beat around the bush about it. he'd be very upfront and just be like 'oh, you're going out? might be chilly, wanna wear a flannel of mine over your shirt?' or something LOL

i wouldn't say he's worse than isamu when he sees you wearing nothing but his clothes... he definitely becomes a bit insatiable

You grumbled as you felt someone reach into your t-shirt, broad calloused hands cupping your breasts and experienced thumb playing with your nipple.

Immediately, you knew who it was and your eyes fluttered open to see it really was Mel, smirking at you victoriously, his arm wrapped around your hips as his hand continued fondling your breast.

"Where'd you find this shirt, hmmm?" He muttered against the shell of your ear as he rutted his hips against your ass.

You just hummed, your voice a mix between a soft yawn and a whimper "The bed. I missed you."

"Figured." He grumbled "Smells like me and now it smells like you. Smells like us."

As he muttered that against your skin, you felt him lift the shirt up a bit more to reveal your breasts. The rather cold air of the room made your nipples pebble a little but Mel definitely had no complaints.

Though, the shirt definitely felt silly now that it was pulled so high on your torso. The neckline was slipping off your shoulders, pooling around your chest, trailing down your upper arm.

Mel just continued eyeing you like seeing you like that, with the shirt like that, was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

You laughed at how silly he was being but then he kept going "It's so much bigger on you than it is on me."

"Yeah, and?" You raised an eyebrow at him, your back arching when he pinched your nipple as retaliation.

"Reminds me of how much bigger I am than you." He clarified, pressing hot kisses against your skin.

You just laughed again and reached behind you to cup his growing cock "Why don't you show me exactly how much bigger you are?"

Mel definitely had no complaints as you slipped his already hard cock out of his jogging pants. Though, before you could guide him right to your pussy, he slipped it between your thighs instead.

You whined but looked down as he fucked his cock against your pussy once, twice, three times. You were surprised to see so much of the head sticking out in between your thighs.

"Fuck, darling, look at what you do to me." He groaned, grip on your breast tightening just a little bit as he pulled you tighter against him.

"Bet it'll feel better inside, hmmm?"

soren kumar ★ profile

he's a music ICON what do you EXPECT! HELLO? he needs to always be fashionable!

his outfits are definitely the more sleek type though. like button up shirts, turtle necks, leather jackets, skinny jeans, etc. a lot of expensive brands too like gucci and stuff who want him to wear their clothes

he'd be a bit ehhh about sharing his clothes. on one hand, cute! on the other hand, he'd be a bit worried becos what if they're outfits like he needs to wear for brand deals and stuff? so you're only allowed to get your hands on specific clothes of his LOL

well, maybe he'll make an exception if you're not wearing anything underneath...

"Oh, baby." Soren walked into his giant closet to see you sitting on one of the chaise lounges, sweater on your body "Is that the Chanel hoodie?"

You nodded, bashful expression on your face "Sorry! I shouldn't have--!"

"No, it's okay, it looks really good on you!" He immediately shook his head, grin overtaking his entire face as he sat next to you, his expression showing exactly how enamoured he was with you.

He pressed kiss after kiss on your face, his arms wrapping around you "You're so cute! I love how it looks on you!"

"You look like a round little lemon! Why's it so big on you?" He pressed a final kiss on your cheek before just simply pulling you onto his lap, his hands sneaking up into the hoodie.

It's when his enamoured expression turned into one of bewilderment before, finally, settling into a giant smirk.

"Oh, naughty baby." He pressed close and murmured into your ear as he positioned you to sit on his thigh, your bare pussy against the rough fabric of his denim "You're wearing nothing underneath?"

Your face simply flushed hotter, your expression shy as you held onto the ends of the sleeves.

Soren smiled and pressed a kiss under your ear and then another lower, lower, against your neck, to your collar. His finger pulled the hoodie down to expose more of your skin to his lips, so he could leave more of his marks.

"Let me show you exactly what I do to naughty babies like you." He cupped your naked hips and started nudging you forward, trying to get you to rude his thigh.

You just frowned and placed your hands on his shoulders, your thighs spread way too far to even properly hold yourself up. He didn't seem to be taking no for an answer though.

In fact, Soren was strong enough to just move you on his own, rubbing your pussy against his jean-clad thigh.

You whined out his name, half in complaint and half in pleasure.

Instead of listening, he just leaned close to mutter in your ear "As punishment, you have to cum against my thigh first, baby, then you can have my cock, okay?"

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

eun-jeong's outfits are very cozy; a lot of oversized stuff, cardigans, turtlenecks, sweaters, etc. not a lot of casual clothes like hoodies and sweatpants. maybe a lot of jeans?

but his jeans are the only things that are tight fitting. the rest have to be very loose

he'd be very happy to share his clothes LOL it's kind of like a concept in asian culture?

like the boyfriend shirt or whatever? so he'd be happy to do it! and his heart feels especially warm when he knows that the two of you match

but then if you get a bit more seductive with it... well, his heart might not be the only thing that's warm if you know what i mean LOL

When Eun-jeong saw you, oversized knit sweatshirt on your body, a sliver of your shoulder peeking through the neckline, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

You looked so lovely in the sweater but there was something about it being his sweater that made it all the more enticing.

"Is my sweater nice?" He approached you, gloved hands tracing the outside of your thighs, wondering why you were wandering out of his room in his clothes.

You just grinned sheepishly at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your body cozy and probably warm with sleep from a nap. He always felt so bad waking you up.

But then, as his hands got higher and higher, slipping into the sweater, he realised that there wasn't anything else there.

His cheeks grew hot and he felt his ears turn bright red. He buried his face into the crook of your exposed neck, nose nuzzling into your collar bones.

"Now, what are you doing with nothing under this sweater, hmmm, puppy?" He muttered against your skin, breath hot and gloved grip only growing tighter.

You laughed and just pulled him closer, your lips brushing against the apples of his red cheeks "I missed you."

Eun-jeong didn't even hesitate as he hiked your legs up, his gloved hands holding you from behind the knees as he wrapped your legs around his waist and hauled you back into his bedroom.

Though, distantly, he couldn't help but notice that your legs sat a bit higher than his waist when he carried you like this. You were so small in his arms, so cuddly. Had it always been like this?

He sat down on the bed with you on his lap and, before you could say anything, his lips were on yours, his kiss soft and gentle as his hands traced your body, making sure that he didn't disturb the sweater.

"Oh, puppy, you should welcome me home like this more often."

fujio watanabe ★ profile

beefy beefy boy, built like a linebacker (whatever that means lol person who knows sports? could not be me?)

he'd prefer not to wear loose clothes but his proportions are kinda weird? so like clothes that would fit right around his torso would be too tight around his arms and clothes that would fight right around his arms would be too lose around the torso

people with big guns problems amirite

so all his clothes are REAL big for him. they have to be really loose around his arms which means they're really loose around his torso

either that or he just goes sleeveless with tank tops, vests, etc

his clothes are all like hoodies (with and without sleeves), sweatshirts, sweatpants, jeans, etc. really does not give a shit about fashion

when he wears tshirts tho, he rolls the shirt sleeves up LOL

neway, he's also doesn't realise that he has a thing for you being smaller but it's becos he's not that tall so he doesn't take note of people's heights unless they're super tall (so he can bust their kneecaps LOL)

definitely isn't surprised at this point though because everything about his darling turns him on

"What the fuck? Is that my tank top?" Fujio squinted at you from the couch as you passed by, his ever present scowl apparent on his face.

You stopped mid-step and turned your head to look at him, confused expression on your face "What? I always wear your clothes, baby."

As he tried to look back and remember if he'd ever seen you wear his clothes before, Fujio couldn't help but stare at how you looked now, with his tank top so loose over your torso.

First of all, he could feel himself chub in his boxers just seeing your side boob. The way the arm holes barely covered any of it, how the straps kept looking like they were about to fall of your cute little shoulders and-- wait, why is that tank top so long on you?

"Come here." He pat his leg and you trotted over, sigh escaping your lips.

When you perched yourself on his lap, that's when it really hit him.

You were small. So so small. He was used to being thick and muscly, used to always being the buffest guy he knew. But he'd never been that big. He was average height.

Yet, compared to you, he was so big.

"Fuck, baby, what the fuck." He moved you a bit so you faced him, your legs on either side of his hips "Dunno why but this shit's making me hard."

"Fujio!" You felt your cheeks heat up but Fujio just chuckled at you, admiring the way his palms looked so large against your waist when he held it.

Without any hesitation, he was pulling his cock out and pressing it against your stomach, watching with a renewed appreciation when he saw how deep it probably got inside you.

The tip didn't touch your belly button but, fuck, did it get close.

"Do I always hit so deep inside you, baby?" His hips lifted a little, his cock grinding against your lower stomach and smearing pre-cum against your skin.

You just pouted and blushed, your hands settling on his upper arms as you ground your hips down "Maybe."

He grinned at your answer before groaning and shifting again to push you down so you were laying beside him on the couch "Okay, fuck, I need to get inside you like yesterday."

[the-faceless-bride]

To anyone who liked Valerie which do you want to see first?

[multific]

His Wife

At'Roh x Reader

Summary: Nothing is scarier than a Yautja who's protecting their mate. And At'Roh is no different, he is worse.

A/N: Another Yautja I made up for all of your pleasure. The above photo is not mine! Credit goes to its owner. Enjoy.

You looked up at him. 

You were smiling as you walked by his side, proud. 

The wedding ceremony was held yesterday, now you are officially his.

His mate.

You have come a long way, from running away from home, getting picked up by an alien and now being a part of their tribe.

You were proud of the long journey you had.

Now, it was time for a different one.

Marriage.

It has been almost 10 years since they took you from Earth. You understood their language, their traditions and their behaviour.

You fell in love with the new tribe leader almost immediately.

He was still young, losing his father to old age, and At'Roh became a young leader.

Young yet fierce.

Many claimed that he was crazy, even with Yautja standards.

One proof of this was the way he got you.

He wanted you, a little human, At'Roh craved something different, something exotic, taking a human as a wife was just that.

But as time passed, and you two grew closer and closer, he couldn't deny the facts.

The facts were that he not only wanted you as a wife due to you being a human.

A fierce human who kept him on his toes, who was not afraid to say no to him.

You rejected his marriage proposal at least five times.

You hoped At'Roh would give up, but he didn't.

Your little play of cat and mouse ended in a way no one expected. 

Everyone thought you two would bring a war within the tribe.

Instead, you two fell in love.

---

It was late at night, you were sleeping in his arms, and everything was perfect until it wasn't.

It all happened so fast.

You knew your mate would immediately go and fight to protect his tribe.

All you need to do is find the other females and go with them.

You have done this before when your tribe was attacked by a group of bad-blood yautja.

At'Roh looked at you one last time before heading out, you gave him a nod. 

You knew what you needed to do.

But it wasn't so easy this time.

The bad-bloods this time had a plan, and you played right into their hand.

They got you way too easy, but they didn't kill you.

Instead, they dragged you to their leader. 

No matter what you tried, you couldn't escape. 

"He's going to get me, you know!" you told him as soon as they tossed you to his legs. "And he will kill you all!!!" you knew they understood, even if they didn't speak your language. 

"At'Roh is dead." the leader replied before they chained you. Your face fell.

He wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

"Liar." was the last thing you said before the collar clicked around your neck.

The long chain connecting to your neck was given to their leader and you were dragged along as they all ran.

They had no ships. 

It was good, there was a chance At'Roh could find you before they got you to a ship and flew away.

You just needed to hold out and slow them down somehow.

---

At'Roh's heavy breathing was the only thing in the house.

He couldn't even see due to his anger.

You were gone.

His wife was gone.

He knew the way this attack played out was too easy. They had a plan. And the plan wasn't to kill him, the plan was to take you.

At'Roh took a deep breath before putting all of his gear on.

If these bad bloods wanted to play, he was going to destroy them.

Hunting was his speciality. At'Roh loved to hunt maybe a bit too much. While other Yautja excelled at it, he became a monster. A crazed hunter who knew nothing else.

Finding you will be a simple task. His blood was boiling because you were taken.

He wanted to save his tribe only to play right into their hands and help them take you.

It was all a trap to kidnap you. It was a level of disrespect he could not forgive.

At'Roh received information that a female saw a group taking you into the forest, they saw no ships.

At'Roh figured they were taking you to a ship to take you away.

And so, the hunt was on.

---

You have not stopped walking since they got you.

A group of four soldiers and a leader.

They have been dragging you along for hours.

You were beginning to get tired.

You felt like you needed to sit down, but they refused. No matter how you begged.

Looks like their perfect plan had a huge flaw.

They didn't take your refusal and unwillingness to cooperate into much consideration.

They honestly thought they could just drag you along and leave with you.

And this gives time for At'Roh to find you.

You managed to find a sharp stone and cut your hand, hoping to give a trail to At'Roh so he could find you more easily.

You hoped it was enough.

---

At'Roh's anger didn't lessen as he continued his hunt. 

It only grew as he noticed blood on the ground.

He only needed the smallest whiff to tell that it was indeed your blood.

He rubbed the wet material on his finger, watching as it almost coated his fingertip.

He hated that.

He didn't want to see you hurt.

It only fueled his anger and he marched forward, angrier than ever.

He will definitely make sure to kill every last one of them.

It was now morning when he finally caught up with the bad bloods. 

Now he just needed a plan to save you from them.

Thankfully his mind was on autopilot almost since the moment he realized you were taken. 

He moved with such ease, killing everyone that came his way.

At'Roh left no survivors.

Due to the chaos, your scent started to mix with others but he managed to find you.

With a knife to your neck as the leader of the bad bloods had you in front of him.

"Let her go." At'Roh demanded with a dangerously low voice. "If you hurt her, I will kill you."

"You will kill me either way. Why not give you some trouble in the meantime?" you understood everything they were saying and you understood what was happening, what you needed to do. You prepared yourself.

"At'Roh," you said his name, hoping to survive this mess.

His eyes moved to you only for a second, the Yautja behind you took this as an opportunity but you also moved. Moving back towards the alien behind you, using all of your body weight, causing his knife only to gaze at your skin, minimalizing the damage. 

Your movement caused the Yautja behind you to fall giving At'Roh enough time to catch up and move you behind himself before he pounced on the bad blood.

You didn't move, watching your mate defending you as he killed the bad blood.

With a loud scream, he killed the other and stood victorious.

But soon, he turned to you and hugged you.

You didn't even care for the bright green blood on his hands or body. You knew it wasn't his.

Soon, he pulled back and looked at your neck, leaning down to lick along the small cut, helping it heal.

"Take me home," you said, and he understood.

Picking you up with one hand he carried you back towards your tribe.

You were so exhausted, that you fell asleep in his arms as he carried you.

You slept almost the entire day away, exhausted from the way you were dragged along, you only woke up when it was almost night again.

At'Roh was, of course, by your side.

You didn't know but you could guess that he never left your side not once.

You looked into his eyes and you felt safe. You felt at home.

"I will not let this happen ever again."

"It's okay, you killed them and saved me." you placed your forehead against his.

You felt his finger trace your neck, where your cut used to be.

At'Roh will make sure this won't happen ever again, you were way too important for him.

You were his wife after all.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @darlingmira @stygianoir @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[nobitchs-world]

Me: I love horror movie slashers

My scary ass if I ever saw them:

[sleep-0-deprived]

Bottom Yandere slasher x final boy male reader head cannons~! ૮ ོ≧ ⩊ ≦ ོ𑁬

blowjobs, knife play, degrading, large bottom, small top ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You were out and about camping on a little trip with your friends when he first had seen you, staring and blinking over at you like a frog. Something inside his cold body came back to life like a zombie breathing air once again. He had to have you and he would have you no matter what he had to do or who he had to clear. Taking you in the middle of the night after dealing with your friends, he’d have you dragged back to his cabin and just stare at your sleeping form for hours.

He’d blink over at you blushing under his mask obsessing over your every muscle and your short frame, you woke up screaming shouting any sort of insult just trying to escape only to fail each time with him frowning and locking you back up in his bedroom. “I’m not your fucking pet you big idiot! You can’t keep me!” You’d shout at him angrily but he’d only tilt his head as though he didn’t understand what you were speaking to him but he did understand you were upset by the tone you were using.

The slasher would keep you for months, he’d feed you and cling to you leaving you never alone because he was by your side each and every hour of the day. His arms held you in a bone crushingly tight spooning position in bed leaving you conflicted on how you could fall for a man like him? Maybe you were in live or maybe it was all the stressful hormones combined with the built up Stockholm syndrome that had you all over him by the end of the second month.

The first time you had sex with him was during your most recent escape, you found his knife, you tried to attack him from behind but with his tall stature you failed only having him on top of you pinning you to the ground. not before you shoved the knife against him threatening him going feral in anger. The hard feeling beneath you is what brought your mind to a clearer thinking. He was hard, how could he possibly be hard in a situation like this? You just tried to kill him and make your escape “are you seriously fucking hard right now? You’re a horny gain arent’cha!” You’d mock him feeling a smile creeping on your face.

Not even thirty minutes later you’re completely stripped holding him up on top of you with your hand shakily holding the knife to his thigh only grunting when he lifts himself up and down on your cock “o-oh shit, wasn’t expecting this” the slasher is even more infatuated with you at this point, the size of your cock had him intimidated at first when he seen a proud seven and a half— eight inches when hard cock looking at him for the first time since this was his first sexual encounter, shockingly sex wasn’t common for a crazed serial killer.

After that moment on the kitchen floor of his cabin this man’s silent and cold demeanor shifts into more, you fucked him into being domestic, wanting to make you happy trying to get you to want to willingly stay with him even if it means he had to please you. His face in your balls with his knife thrown to the ground while he attempts to give you a blow job “c’mon you can take a little more right, you’re a big man so shove it a little down that throat” you couldn’t help but be cruel to him with your hand gripping the rubber backing of his mask and forcing his face down on your crotch reminding him that while he kidnapped you, he lacked all his control when you were in the mix.

When you finally come around to the slasher, you’re grueling with him in sex, your arms would wrap around his body jerking your hips harshly between his thighs fucking him like a manic and pulling his mask back making him groan feeling more exposed and vulnerable before you, “are all serial killers preening sluts?” You couldn’t help but just egg him, not when you felt his walls gripping you back every time you spoke them making you a mess burying your face into his chest heaving and moaning on top of him fucking him like you need it.

[cece693]

May I pretty please request Hannigram with an SO that really likes biting things? Like they’ll just nibble on anything available, including themself or Hanni/Will

male reader if possible :)

Bite Me, Darling

pairing: hannibal lecter and will graham x male reader tags: self soothing mechanism, male reader bites things, Alana bashing, jack Crawford bashing, just everyone in general is against this relationship, innocent male reader, hannibal and will want to keep him this way

It was strange, how everything about him was normal on the surface but wildly unique beneath. The way he moved through life, unaware of the way people stared, was something that only a few people truly understood. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, for all their intelligence and their capacity for manipulation, had each found something in him���something pure and raw—that spoke to them in ways they couldn’t articulate.

You were innocent in the most innocent way. You didn’t know how to read people’s intentions, how to navigate the murky waters of deceit and pain that others swam in. You were a creature of quiet habits: chewing on pens, biting the corner of your sleeves, even nibbling your fingers. It wasn’t that you was anxious, but rather that this was your way of processing the world. You didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was with a tenderness that could disarm even the most hardened individuals.

For some, this made you seem almost too innocent for the likes of Will and Hannibal. They were two men who dealt with darkness constantly, who played in shadows. Hannibal, the brilliant psychiatrist with an appetite for blood, had found himself intrigued long before anything happened between them. How did such a pure soul even come to be? How was it that someone as complex as Hannibal could be pulled into a world where biting things wasn’t just a habit—it was part of who you were?

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Hannibal was nothing if not a man who craved complexity, and you, with your simple yet peculiar habit of biting, had an allure that he could never fully comprehend. He wasn’t sure when the lines had blurred, when you had shifted from being someone he wanted to understand to someone he wanted to possess.

Will, on the other hand, was less of a mystery. He found your unspoken understanding of him soothing. Will was not a man who found comfort easily. He’d had too many years of running from his own mind, of balancing between the need for human connection and the heavy weight of his empathic gifts. But you were different. You never demanded anything from him. There was no need to over explain; no fear of rejection. You were there, and that was enough.

The three of them had fallen into a relationship that no one, especially not Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, could understand. Jack, upset that you had a greater control over his 'asset' perceived you as a problem that needed to be extinguished immediately. While he couldn't force Will to break up with you, he began to use manipulative language more frequently, hinting that his absence was endangering the lives of people. But after a while, his words began to lose power.

"Will, you can’t just leave because he told you to," Jack would say, his voice thick with frustration. "We need you to solve this case. You're part of this team." But Will, unmoved, always told him he was tired and needed a break—as if killers would respect that and stop murdering until he felt better. Jack would then begin to retort how soft Will was becoming, as if that ever mattered when others perceived him as a madman.

Alana, on the other hand, was driven by something more personal. Jealousy. She had been drawn to both Hannibal and Will. Her feelings for them had never been simple or easy, but she had always harbored a belief that somehow, one day, they would choose her. Instead, they had chosen you. The idea of you, with your gentle biting habit, managing to capture the attention of both men—of all people—was enough to make her skin crawl with resentment. How could someone so abnormal and clearly dealing with childhood trauma have the audacity to step into their world and steal both her love interests?

She couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t deserve them. You weren't like her—you didn’t understand the complexities of their lives nor seemed to be able to handle the hurdles that came with it. And so, she set to work.

It started subtly. A conversation here, a comment there.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re a little strange?” she would ask, voice light, as if it were a passing thought. “I mean, the biting…it's something you can't help, but don't you ever want to stop it? Be seen as normal for once in your life?"

At first, you had laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. But over time, the seeds of doubt were planted. You began to wonder. Was your habit of biting things wrong? Your lovers had never raised concerns, but it would be something they'll definitely keep private, perhaps a secret only shared between Hannibal and Will. You never thought that Alana's words were connived to break your relationship apart, your naivety something the woman had taken into account and used to her advantage.

So, you tried to stop.

You started small: you tucked your hands into your sleeves when your instincts told you to gnaw at the fabric, and you opted for straws instead of biting the rim of a glass cup. You made an effort—any effort—to keep your teeth away from Will and Hannibal’s skin, no matter how comforting that gentle pressure felt against them. At first, neither man noticed; after all, it was easy to dismiss as a passing mood or an unremarkable change in routine.

But after a couple of days, small signs alerted both of them to the shift. Will began to see you catch yourself mid-motion, your hand halfway to your mouth before you stopped and pressed it flat against your chest instead. Hannibal noticed the anxious flicker in your eyes whenever you realized you were about to bite down on your sleeve—or worse, on him—and yanked yourself away.

It was Will who first chose to address it. One evening, you were curled up in his living room, dogs scattered around you like living blankets. The space was quiet, the only sound the gentle snoring of a dog and the low hum of the overhead light. You were running your thumb over your bottom lip—an almost-bite—when Will finally spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, “what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He studied you with those empathetic eyes of his. You knew he was reading more into your silence, but Will was nothing if not patient. “You’ve been distant,” he finally ventured, words slow and careful. “I don’t mind if you need space, but if something’s bothering you, I want to help.”

The sincerity in his voice tore at your heart. You wanted to confide in him, to say Alana made me feel wrong, and I don’t want to be wrong for you, but the fear of seeming weak or needy held you back. You simply shook your head and offered a reassuring pat to one of the dogs resting on your lap. “I’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t push. “Just tired.”

Hannibal discovered your change in behavior under more intimate circumstances. The two of you were alone in his kitchen, the scent of simmering stock filling the air. He had taken your hand to guide you closer to the cutting board, demonstrating a particular technique for slicing vegetables. Normally, a casual closeness like this was an invitation for you to lean in, maybe press your teeth gently against the back of his hand or the curve of his arm—just enough to ground yourself in his presence. This time, you didn't lean in nor brought his hand to your lips.

Hannibal stilled, eyebrows lifting in polite surprise. “Darling,” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You swallowed hard. “Just didn’t want to hurt you,” you offered lamely, though you both knew you had never caused him pain before. His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he released your hand without comment. You wondered if your face betrayed the unease you felt, because Hannibal’s expression shifted into something gentler, concerned. But he chose not to press you then and there. Instead, he simply carried on, instructing you gently with the knife work and occasionally brushing a reassuring hand across your back.

Though both men tried to give you space, their combined worry spilled over as time went on. Neither was used to seeing you so guarded, especially around them. On a chilly afternoon, the three of you gathered in Hannibal’s study—a routine that had become something of a tradition. Will sipped his whiskey quietly while Hannibal and you browsed through his impressive collection of classical music. There was a soothing air of comfort, and for a brief moment, your doubts dimmed.

But of course, it was Will who noticed your jaw moving—saw the slight shift as your teeth worked the soft flesh inside your cheek. He placed his whiskey glass down on the table with a muted clink before pushing himself out of the chair.

“Stop,” he murmured, crossing the room with purpose. His voice was gentle but firm as he stepped close to you. Without hesitating, he brought his hand to your chin, his touch warm yet insistent. “Open your mouth.”

You stiffened, instinctively pulling away. You shook your head, trying to avert your gaze from Will’s intense blue eyes. You didn’t want to show him. You didn’t want him to see the damage you’d done to keep from biting them instead.

But then, Hannibal appeared at Will’s side, his presence commanding. He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave you—equal parts concern and disappointment—made your shoulders slump in silent surrender. Unable to deny the weight of their worry, you parted your lips, letting Will tilt your chin just enough so both he and Hannibal could peer inside.

A faint gasp escaped Will as he saw the small puncture in your cheek, the fresh bead of crimson welling against your lower molars. Hannibal’s lips flattened into a thin line, and a flicker of displeasure darkened his gaze. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small wound, but it spoke volumes to them—volumes about how you had been coping alone.

Hannibal’s voice was low, edged with concern. “You’ve been hurting yourself to avoid biting us.” It wasn’t a question; it was a quiet statement of fact.

Will let go of your chin carefully. “Why?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

You swallowed thickly, your hand hovering near your mouth in a subconscious attempt to hide the injury you’d just revealed. “Alana said it’s weird. The biting,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

A stretch of silence followed your confession, Hannibal and Will exchanged a look—a silent conversation filled with understanding and mild anger toward Alana’s interference. Will’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. “We told you before,” he reminded you gently, “you don’t have to hide this from us. You’re not hurting us—”

“—nor inconveniencing us,” Hannibal interrupted, stepping closer again. The resolute calm in his eyes steadied you. “In fact, we’ve grown quite accustomed to it, and dare I say, fond of it. Your habit is part of who you are.”

You glanced down, feeling the sting of tears threatening in your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want you to get sick of me, or to think I was some sort of burden.”

Will’s hand found yours, his fingers threading through with a gentle squeeze. “That’s not possible,” he murmured. “We miss it…miss you being comfortable around us.”

Hannibal placed a hand against your cheek, being mindful of your tender injury. “You never need to hurt yourself on our behalf,” he said, voice quiet but unyielding. “Any pain you feel—physical or otherwise—we’d much rather help you carry it, not watch you bury it inside.”

At those words, a sharp wave of relief pulsed through you, along with an ache of regret for having doubted them. You inhaled shakily, letting yourself lean just a fraction closer to Hannibal’s touch, feeling the stability it offered. Will eased his other hand around your waist, tugging you gently in his direction. Sandwiched between them, you could almost believe nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I…I’ll try not to hide it anymore.”

Will’s lips quirked into a small, comforting smile. “No more chewing on your cheek,” he said, voice warm with affection. “You’ll let us help, right?”

With a hesitant nod, you felt Hannibal’s hand slide from your cheek to the back of your head, urging you closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. He cast a glance at Will, who leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Despite the swirl of emotions, you felt a gentle calm in their presence—a sense of being anchored.

[thefavouritelamb]

GOLDEN CURLS and your BLOOD-STAINED KNIFE

premise . . . you should be terrified, you should be fucking horrified. all the annoying bitches around you drop dead like flies and the masked hottie man in front of you is about to kill you. and, oh my god, it's that nerd from chem

( requested by anon ! )

CAST virgin!slasher slutty!final girl TAGS plot with porn, murder and attempted murder, mentions of attempted suicide, crack treated seriously, possessive behaviour, light obsessive behaviour, light knifeplay, light femdom/dominant reader, light submissive slasher, brief breeding kink, creampie, unsafe sex done by unsafe people

affiliated links ─── pinned inbox requests (closed for now)

death clings to your scent—everywhere, it knows where you are. it started small, seemingly a one-time thing. some old hag dies and everyone assumes it was from old age. it wasn't. god forbid, it wasn't. whispers echo through the hallway and doesn't leave your ears; it was a murder. who the hell gave a shit though, right? you didn't. you couldn't care when that hag refused to give you the mark you deserved. fuck her.

then, mechanically, it comes after one another. you're starting to think of moving, really. like flies, your contact list fills with dead bodies. literally. name after name, vague description after just another number, the men you've slept with are all fucking dying. if you were superstitious, you'd think this was karma. yet, you're not. you're realistic. you know someone is haunting your trail and they aren't fucking stopping.

the world stops for a moment. the only thing you can hear is that repetitive bounce of some... fucking tennis ball or something. the house is dreary, the silence occasionally stabbed with the thrumming of the ball bouncing around. your heart pounds against your chest. you can't feel your fingers though they tightly wrap around the handle of the kitchen knife. you've been sensing you were next for a while. you just wish that it didn't end like this when you're half naked, a nameless man dead on the floor of your bedroom, and pussy out in the fucking cold.

it's getting closer. your hands are grasped in prayer as you pull it close to your chest. when the pounding stops, you know he's there.

quickly, you turn to face the man in the doorway. you raise your hand to stab yet he halts you by your wrist. fuck. all your anger and frustration bubbles into a punch but it comes out fruitless. his fist hammer to your ribs. you're promptly pushed down; weak, hurting, and pathetic. this was not how you wanted to die. the man towers over you as he drags you by the hair—a string of whines fall from your lips as you struggle out of his grasp.

"get the fuck off me, you sicko!" you scream, the sting at your scalp more painful than a knife stab. you think so, anyways. "i won't fucking report your ass just please! leave me the fuck alone!"

if he's been operating systematically, killing off your contact lists one by one, you just knew that telling him off wouldn't stop him. still, he drops you on the floor. you find yourself on your back, staring wide-eyed as the mask looks into your eyes. he has no eyes, not really. he has one mouth, a grin so wild. his entire body is cloaked and with it soaked in blood—you were too. both of you were bathed in the blood of some bloke you didn't even remember the name of. you hoped, just a little, you get to have one good fuck before you died.

"do you like pain?" he says your name, his voice unnatural and a deep monotone. "i know you do." fucking pervert, watching you getting your masochistic streak on. "you like inflicting them more than you receive them, though. i know you do."

"i don't know what you mean," your voice trembles. he slowly squats down to your level, his bloody gloved hands making a print on your cheeks. "j-just..." his knife kisses your jaw, "if i did something or i said something to you—... i'm fucking stupid. you can ruin my life however you want just let me live! wouldn't that be better? let me live with my own mistakes?"

his laugh comes out a growl through the voice changer. it's animalistic. "you have been living with your mistakes," he tells you, "everyday, every man you bring home. every single one of them is a man who doesn't even care for you. they're a mistake. you've lived far long enough with them, haven't you? i'm here to finally—" the edge of the blade traces a line on the bottom of your jaw, leaving a heated pain behind—"dissolve you from your past."

before you try to reason with him, he grips his mask. the white sullen face is pulled upwards revealing—revealing...?

him? "you?" this feels like a sudden joke. "no... oh my god, no fucking way."

you want to laugh; hat was, of course, your attempted reaction before you felt the blade go deeper in your skin. fucking ouch. the man above you is none other than that nerd in your chem class. you remember months ago how you laughed because he continuously tried to flirt with you. his attempts all but adorable with his soft face and thick glasses. it was endearing back then. you almost slept with him just because you thought he was cute.

but now? holy fuck. now, it's different. you almost couldn't tell they were the same person if not the mole on his lips, a gentle kiss from the gods that turned his mouth a shade of pink. the soft cheeks have slimmed into a distinguished jawline. strands of hair curl at the top of his head, almost shielding his watercolour eyes beneath those stupid glasses. you can't believe it. that fucking nerd, after disappearing for months, came back to do a killing spree all because... you didn't sleep with him?

"you embarassed me," he says, his voice almost whiny. "do you know how hard it was for me to go around school? everyone picked on me because you said that i was... i was a good for nothing fucking virgin! you made fun of me and the entir..."

it's odd how his words dulled into a muffled tone. from this angle, the cloak falls off a little and you see a glimpse of his collarbones. he lost weight, didn't he? that's slightly sad, you quite liked him in his softer body. you mourn it silently but you notice how his voice trembles into a deeper tone—had he gone through puberty again? jeez. he looks and sounds cute. you're smiling a little as your heart skips a beat from anything but fear.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asks, snapping you out of your trance. before you could notice it yourself, your hands already moved down to your crotch. you haven't even came yet, not even a fake orgasm. you're only slightly bit shameful that you're touching yourself while he's having his villain monologue.

you hum, spreading your legs. "look, i feel a bit bad and all, but you really caught me at a bad time." you see his eyes trail to your cunt, seeing where your fingers disappear between your legs and how he gulps down in want. "come on, he didn't even have his cock out, baby. i was just barely taking off my panties when you interrupted us. and... you're kinda hot."

"you're sick." hah! the irony in that. "you want to fuck me now?" he laughs, gripping your hair again which makes you moan this time. you can see how his face loosens for a moment at the sound. "y-you only like me now because i lost weight! i starved myself from the bullying, and planning on how to fucking kill those people!"

"but baby, you're cute the way you are," you pout. "the only reason why i didn't fuck you was because you were just kinda weird at times. it was cute how you thought flower facts were going to get you pussy. and it was going to give you pussy, baby. but i can't risk my reputation if i fucked a cute nerd like you. can't give it all up just for one dick, you know?

"but now...?" you gasp, reeling in his attention with how two fingers slip in with ease. "you fucking killed those dickheads, baby. i fake orgasmed with most of them. i don't need a reputation when you've killed my audience."

his face drops into one of shock. you're not surprised that he's surprised. you're a bit surprised too—hah, you're kinda going delirious, maybe you are insane after all. despite the festering pain on your face, the stickiness of blood, you curl your fingers perfectly into your g-spot that has you moaning. you admire the way his eyes are trained onto you, his desires unfulfilled coming back again like a pest. he's tried to get over you but he hasn't. you're not letting him. absolutely fucking not.

his knife moves and you stick your tongue out, chasing the tip of it. you moan, looking into his eyes as you lay your tongue flat against the plane of the blade. "co' fu'h me?"

the words "come fuck me" were muffled but it seemed like he got the gist.

like how it was meant to be, you lay on stained bedsheets. it's a bit disgusting but you're too distracted with how cutely he's hurrying to undo his jeans. the cloak is pulled apart and you see how his hands struggle to undo his belt. silly boy. you reach out, hands expertly taking them off as he melts in your hold. it's thrown away along with your underwear, wherever it may be, as his pants are roughly pulled down by him.

you can't help but tease him, "feeling excited, baby?" he moans, hips grounding against you with a sticky fabric bordering you two. "so cute. did you cum in your boxers already? why's it all wet, baby boy?" he blushes, silent as you pick him apart knowingly. your hands make it inside his briefs and both of you moan at the contact—he's fucking wet, almost gushing. you would think he already came with the pre-cum leaking at the tip. despite that assumption, his cock is an angry red demanding warmth. your warmth.

"such a pretty little boy for me. take that off," he does so obediently. his fat cock—and it is fat, the length of it just nice but the thickness of it makes you drool in want—slaps against his stomach and makes a patch on his happy trail. "good boy, such a pretty and good boy for me.

you ask, "wanna shove it in?" and he moans, an echo of agreement and pleas falling from his mouth. he's pressing kisses against the open wound, a silent apology as he begs to be touched by you. the pain doesn't feel that bad now. it's numbed as his cockhead presses against your wet heat, wanting an entrance. you can only hear his ragged breathing as his tongue laps up the blood. your heart races against each other, the two of it throbbing with only both your flesh and bones separating them from mauling each other.

it's a miracle how he hasn't combusted yet. however, you hold onto that as he shoves the first inch inside. you've barely stretched yourself with two fingers and you almost wish you took more. the stretch of his cock punches a moan out of you, unwilling. the little thing above you whines and moans, "so good, so good, you feel so fucking good." it's the only thing he can muster in his brain as your cunt grasps him in a tight embrace, slick gushing around it as it tries to ease the slide.

"so good," he draws out in a tight moan. "i've never... you—i can't fucking believe it." you almost forgot the nerd was a virgin. "you feel so good around me. your pussy is so tight but it's, oh my god, it's opening up so nicely. so nicely for me."

your hands tangle itself in his hair after you pulled his hood down. "yeah, is it how you imagined? how does my pussy feel in comparison to your hand?" he's barely understandable with how fast he repeats so good so good so good. without prompting, one of his gloved fingers reach down to play with your clit. mostly the men need a signal or even a guide to do that. the leather is an odd feeling against such a sensitive area. still, it's not unwelcomed. you moan freely, your legs moving to wrap itself behind him. you want him to start moving. you need him to.

"come on," you goad, "need your fat cock inside me. you gotta start fucking me how you did in your fantasies, baby." then, that he does. he pushes inch by inch in, making you moan with the delightful and painful stretch. it's a feeling you're never going to tire yourself from. his cock splits you open more than anyone ever could. he presses it nice and deep, the tip kissing your g-spot gently. he doesn't move his hips, the vice around his cock too tight. he understands immediately and flicks your clit, a rapid motion that has you grinding against his hold.

that gets him to move. he starts to fuck his cock in and out of you. it's slow, pulling out until the tip is left just for him to fuck it deep again. his playful hand gets distracted but it's okay. every thrust you're groaning, your head having swivelled backwards from the pleasure. it's getting your legs to numb out. his balls slap against your ass and there's lewd sounds of skin slapping with echoing moans from the both of you. it's textbook erotic. you crave his cock just as much as he's craving your pussy.

"faster, come on." he's a show dog who's memorised all his cues. he moves his hips faster, opting for a more chaotic pace to chase both of your orgasms. he moves his hand again, a slower and more gentle act of circling in contrast to the impaling of his cock. your cunt is leaking in wet arousal as your breath is stolen from you. you can barely feel your legs when he's going ballistic. he mouths delightfully at your face now, just shy of kissing you.

you don't let his fantasy go to waste. eagerly, you tilt your head so your lips meet in unified desperation. he's moaning into the kiss. his pace stutters as he loses himself to the pleasure of being kissed. you're not surprised if you took all of his firsts tonight. in eager motions, he's chasing his orgasm orgasm. his first orgasm inside a cunt raw. you don't really mind that he's without a condom. you know you're safe when you've made everyone who tapped to wrap it up. this little killer of yours is, of course, a special exemption.

"'m gonna cum," he whines, dick hammering into your cunt. "gonna cum inside your pussy. gonna make it mine. gonna breed your pussy and you're gonna be all mine, all mine, all mine."

his free hand goes to grip your waist with one final thrust, both of you pulled into waves of orgasm. he's cumming inside of you and you mirror as you squirt all over him. the orgasm is intense as he gently plays with your clit, easing it with a slow lull. all of it becomes just a bit too much and you're writhing beneath him. he gets the point and moves away, carefully moving out of you.

in between the post haze, you feel the sheets move beneath you and you lay on the mattress. he wraps you in his arms and you're being embraced by the warmth of his body and the feel of his tongue against your lips. his kissing could be improved, you think with a laugh. that pulls him out of his cocoon-like touches. an insecure question of, "what are you laughing at?" has you smiling a little.

you answer him truthfully, "you fuck like a menace and kiss like a virgin. it's cute though, don't get me wrong." he blushes like a virgin too. you can't help but squish his cheeks. "gosh. you're adorable," the fog thins and you smell the corpse rotting at your feet, "and... you're a serial killer. how are you going to get rid of that dead fucking body?"

he looks down, almost surprised that there was a dead body there. "oh," he says, quite dumbly, "i actually don't know. i really did plan to kill you and then kill myself afterwards. i don't want to go to jail."

oh. o-fucking-kay.

you two sit up and you pull at your hair. the golden curls fall in front of your face in anger. "why the fuck would you go through all this just because you couldn't get some pussy?" he's about to answer you and you know he's going to repeat his monologue. "no, no. okay, i get it. i'm sorry. but seriously, i don't want to die and i don't want to go to jail because i fucked the murderer." this is bad. his knife is on the bed and you're thinking about just stabbing him.

wait, that could work. you grab the knife quickly and stab him. that immediately gets him to yelp, "what the actual fuck!?" he glares at the knife in his stomach then at you, "why would you do that?" he's looking at you like he's about to cry. you actually feel a little bit bad.

"sorry," you say, letting go. "i just needed to come up with a story." you pull your hair back, sitting cross-legged in front of him. "so, you were fucking me. he came here and tried to kill the both of us. he's all jealous that i was fucking other people—sounds familiar? yeah, well, this time, i kill him with this knife and now he's framed for the murder. assuming, of course, you don't have any incriminating evidence inside your house."

"no," he groans, hands hovering above the handle in wanting to get it out but knowing it should be stuck in. "your cameras are all dead too, by the way. it's been dead for a few days and no one saw the two of you when you sneaked inside from the back door. no one saw me too."

"great!" you promptly pull out the knife and he screams. "sorry! sorry! i just need to stab it inside of him and then call the cops." you put the knife right where he put it in earlier, right between his crotch. if this all goes well, you all go home without a worry. if it goes bad, well, you could always run away, right? you look at the killer bleeding, cock out and cum dribbling down his thighs and squirt on his stomach. you don't think both options are that bad.

"the costume?" he asks, looking down head to toe at himself. you're about to undress him gleefully and play dress-up with a dead body.

written and posted by thefavouritelamb

[yanderefarm]

slasher!reader x fanboy!yandere

cw;; gore, blood, cannibalism, murder, animal violence mentioned

can u tell i love slashers... i wanna be a hot slasher monster thats the gender goal.

you're a local legend in the area, a modern myth to scare people away from the old slaughter house. most people don't actually believe you exist but there isn't an insignificant amount of people who never make it back from that "haunted" location.

you're no ghost, no you're very real. you live in the slaughter house where you do your "work". you actually ship out a decent amount of actual meat but only to specific customers who don't ask questions. some of them buy your premium meats but mostly you're just butchering cows and pigs. it's tedious work, nothing is as satisfying as cutting into a screaming crying human body.

you're so excited when another group of young adults come to visit. they're doing a test of courage. you're gonna make them really prove themselves tonight. there's only about 6 of them and from that you can only see 3 who's meat will actually sell. you silently plan to keep two as livestock to plump up and leave the 6th to go back and spread your myth farther.

it's a long night. humans don't like dying, they fight and scratch every step of the process. you've gotten two of the ones with the best meat and you've put them in your meat locker. one of the worthless ones is bleeding out with your hand in their hair. the remaining meats have given you a pretty nasty wound in your side and the pain is pissing you off. you don't even get to throw this worthless meat in the freezer before it's dead. annoying. you let go of its hair, your foot crushing it's arm as you drag yourself further.

you smell gasoline when your body finally gives against one of the walls. you can guess that those stupid meat bags are going to set fire to all your hard work. if only they hadn't gotten the drop on you. you hold your hand over the cut as you accept your fiery fate. but it doesn't come.

you hear footsteps, timid footsteps. you lull your head in the direction of them and you see the last premium meat standing there in front of you.

"...you... you're hurt." he drops next to you and tepidly reaches his hand towards your wound. you remove your hand letting it fall limp next to you. he immediately pulls out a small sewing kit.

"this is going to be uncomfortable but please bear with it." he threaded a needle and began the painful process of sewing up the gash.

you watched his hands move in silence, only flinching a few times from the pain. the boy in front of you had his brows furrowed and his tongue slightly out as he focused intensely on patching you up. it was so curious you couldn't stop staring at him. he tied it off and cut the excess string.

"i should kill you now." you picked your weapon off the ground next to you. the meat swallowed hard.

"if.. if you want... but can I make a request?" his face was red.

"i don't usually take requests.. but i suppose since you helped me out."

he swallowed again before looking up into your eyes. "i.. i don't want you to sell me. please eat me yourself!"

[heartfullofleeches]

[Slasher Reader loses victim Yan in the woods]

Slasher Reader: Damn it...You always make me do this.... [Lifts up their mask slightly] Put your head on my shoulder~

[Nearby] "Hold me in your arms~... Shit"

[Slasher Reader, pulls their mask back down]

Victim Yan, leaping from the bushes: Oh fuck, oh fuck-

Slasher Reader: Squeeze me oh-so tight~ Wouldn't what you'd like me to do to you, sweetheart?

Victim Yan: Yes!-wait- No! Fuckfuckfuck - Why do you have to have the voice of an angel?!

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Things Ethan Landry would text you if you were his s/o- charismatic killer trope.

1. SUNRISE SCARE

Ethan: Wake up, baby. I can see you sleeping in.

Y/n: i am awake. im already brushing my teeth.

Ethan: no, you aren’t. I’m watching you right now.

Y/n: how

Ethan: The window. You’re so vulnerable when you’re asleep.

Y/n: I can’t see you.

Ethan: But that’s the point, love.

Ethan: please get out of that nightgown, before I take it off for you.

Y/n: why? what is it doing to you?

Ethan: I’ll show you later.

Y/n: oh ?

Ethan: good morning by the way ❤️

2. TEASER

Y/n: hey. you get the answer for #12?

Ethan: Oh, dear. My girlfriend is cheating on the math homework.

Y/n: im not cheating, dummy. im asking an educational question.

Ethan: If you can cheat so easily on calculus, how do I know you’re loyal to me?

Y/n: because we both know what would happen to me if I would cheat on you, ethan.

Ethan: and what’s that?

Y/n: …

Ethan: you think I would kill you?

Y/n: don’t lie to me. we both know you can’t control yourself around me. i know you touched yourself while stalking me when we weren’t dating.

Ethan: such disgusting thoughts. I might need to fuck your brains out to get rid of them, don’t you think?

Y/n: in what way would you take my brains out? With a knife? Or with your cock?

Ethan: we’re in class

Y/n: are you hard right now?

Y/n: hello? it’s just a question.

Y/n: if you don’t answer me, i’ll ask Chad to fuck me instead. i’ll enjoy letting him bend me over.

Ethan: I can’t wait to see his blood on my hands. what day should I do it? today? kill him tonight?

Y/n: it was a joke. i just didn’t realize i turned you on that fast, ethan.

Ethan: don’t act dumb with me. you know what you’re fucking doing.

Y/n: no, i don’t. you should really answer my question.

Ethan: don’t act like you aren’t aware that I’m throbbing in my jeans

Ethan: stop acting like this

Ethan: i’m gonna fucking punish you so hard tonight

Y/n: lol because of giving you an erection?

Ethan: i can’t wait to see how much you’ll laughing when I’ll have a knife to your throat.

Ethan: making you scream with my dick.

Ethan: you want that?

Y/n: yes

Ethan: fucking whore.

Y/n: you love it.

Ethan: I do.

[yanderu-deredere]

sinker.

★ you are served an absolutely stellar dinner by an equally stellar couple. you don't know if it's the wine or the something else but you feel like something is going on between you, casimir and emm? maybe you needed to clear your head

a/n: THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER LOL i edited this authors note to say this becos this originally said something else but just wanted to warn yall that no, this is actually the smut chapter

also lol i was writing this after i wrote the smut for the werewolves and i realised?? HELLO? what is UP with me and inhebriated readers lmaooo? so i changed it a little bit so that reader sobers up a bit but still the warning is there cus they have a couple glasses of wine

neway, almost didn't post this today but someone commented on the last chapter's tags about how much they loved 'tall beefy woman' and 'tall beefy man'. unfortunately, tho casimir isn't as beefy, he definitely has his own muscles! hope you specifically enjoy! you know who you are

part one (hook.) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (here) ★ extras (captive.) ★ part four (drawn.) ★ part five (quartered.)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 2821

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attracted to males and females, readers friends just continue to suck and not in the fun way, reader gets a crush? interesting, mentions of emm's burn scars, final ship is poly

You sighed as you stepped out of the house, the rush of the rain sounding a little bit like a calming static to your ears.

Of course, the last thing you wanted to do was to get wet so you kept under the porch roof. You just wanted a breath of fresh air, something that wasn't the suffocating air around your friends and the couple inside.

The inside of the house wasn't exactly stuffy to you but it felt way way too hot and there was a cool breeze outside that helped at least make your cheeks feel less warm.

What was with you?

You just didn't understand why you suddenly felt so flustered around a married couple.

Maybe Bran was right. Maybe you were a freak?

Or maybe it was the wine. But you weren't a light weight and you'd never gotten drunk over something like this before so you didn't understand why you'd get drunk like this now.

Maybe it really was just because Emm was a beautiful buff woman and Casimir was a sexy svelte man... Was that your type?

You let out a sigh that turned into a warm fog in the cold air outside.

You heard the door behind you creak but you didn't look behind you, just kept your arms crossed and your eyes trained on the looming factory across the road.

"You okay? You kind of rushed out there." Emm put something around your shoulders and you quickly realised it was some sort of cardigan "Casimir says thanks for helpin' with the dishes and with cookin'."

"I swear it tasted even better than usual--"

Before you could even stop yourself, you turned around and pressed your lips onto Emm's. You were about to pull back but, then, you felt her hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close.

Her kiss was gentle, almost sweet, but her tongue licked at your lips and you let her in almost immediately.

When she finally pulled away, your breaths both came out as soft clouds, her eyes frantically searching yours like she was hoping there was an answer in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry--"

That wasn't the answer she was looking for. She looked disappointed or sad, something in between. Either way, her shoulders sagged a little but she nodded slowly "I un'erstand, don' worry 'bout it."

"Cas'll pro'ly wonder 'bout us." She turned to leave and, God, did your heart ache.

You put a hesitant hand on her upper arm, your thumb tracing the wrinkled burn as comfortingly as you could "I'm really sorry, I-i don't want to get in the middle of-of you a-and your husband--"

"An-And what if we want you to get in the middle?" Emm moved fast because she was suddenly turning back to you, her hands at your upper arms, that hopeful expression back on her face again "Biblically?"

It took you a second but, when her words clicked, you laughed. You leaned against her, your forehead against her collar, and you laughed.

She didn't seem offended because she cradled you close, her hand carding through your hair and her other hand tracing your spine, like she was scared you'd disappear if she stopped touching you in any way.

"Cas told me you had nothin' but a degree waitin' for you back at home." She leaned a little closer, back bowing so she could whisper in your ear, like saying her words too loudly would jinx her somehow.

"Maybe... maybe after your degree, you could... come here? We could pick you up. I know it's a mighty long trek but... oh, darlin'." She sighed, all dreamy and soft. "You're worth the longest trek there is."

Your heart beat out your chest at the thought of the two thinking you were worth so much. After everyone in your life putting you down, after being put last for everything, it was so surreal to have someone think you were worth so much.

"But-- what would we be?" You couldn't help but ask, still confused about what exactly she wanted from you "A-And why me?"

"I don't know why you, darlin', but I knew the second I saw you. Just seein' you there, peerin' out that window. I knew I fell in love with you." She confessed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"As for what we would be..." Emm trailed off before shrugging and just pulling you impossibly closer "I don't know, sweetness. We'd be whatever you want us to be."

"I know Cas don't know how to say his feelin's sometimes but he feels the same as me." She pressed another kiss against your temple, closer to the corner of your eye "And he'd be happy to have another spouse. The both of us are."

You were struck speechless for a second before you nodded slowly, nose rubbing against the skin of her neck. With a soft sigh, you smiled "I'd at least like to give it a try."

Then, you pulled away far enough from Emm to look her in the face, mischievous smirk on your face "And I wouldn't be opposed to... uh, getting in between the two of you. Biblically speaking, that is."

Now that you were directly looking at Emm, you could see the way her face flushed when you spoke to her. But, unlike you, she didn't look shy at all.

In fact, her eyes darkened and, though she definitely looked flustered, there was a hungry expression on her face.

Before you could do anything else, she pressed forward and kissed you, her fingers in your hair tightening.

You whimpered at the feeling of her pulling at your hair but you kissed her back anyway, your hands clawing at her clothes, trying desperately to pull her close.

"We shou'get Cas." Emm looked like it took everything in her to pull away from you but, when you hesitantly nodded, she strengthened her resolve and lifted you into her arms.

You squealed, surprised by her strength, your arms tightening around her neck. She just kept her grip tight around your waist and under your knees.

"Geez, warn someone before you sweep them off their feet." You sighed but, from the cheeky expression on her face, you didn't think Emm felt apologetic at all.

Still, she pressed a kiss to your forehead as an apology before practically kicking the front door open and striding in like she she had nothing better to do than to pin you down and ravish you.

In fairness, that was probably true.

"What's wrong?" Cas hurried over, worried expression on his face as he dropped the dish cloth in his hands.

His green eyes searched all over you, trying to find some sort of injury. Since there wasn't one, you just cupped his cheek and gently led his face towards yours.

He didn't need convincing. He immediately kissed you; his kiss was much more hurried and sharp than Emm's soft and sweet one. He was all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet.

When he pulled away, he panted "What was that for?"

"Where's her friends?" Emm answered for you, gesturing to the stairs.

"They are still in their rooms. No sign of them coming out." Casimir straightened himself, brushing off his shirt before unceremoniously palming his hardon through his jeans.

It wasn't as obvious, probably because they were jeans, but you figured the small tent was his cock. Did he get hard just from kissing you?

Emm certainly didn't need any prompting when she noticed what you noticed because she was racing up the stairs, steps silent as she took them two at a time.

You tried to listen as the two of you passed by the second floor but you didn't hear your friends.

Hopefully they were asleep because you honestly didn't want to hear it from them about how much of a freak you were. In fact, maybe you would rub this in their faces in the morning.

Or, maybe, that was just the courage your horniness was giving you.

You couldn't give it much more of a thought because, before long, Emm was laying you down on their bed, her lips back on yours, her forearms on either side of your head as she caged you under her muscular body.

You let her lead the kiss and it was just as gentle and sweet as before, her lips moving like a soft dance between the two of you.

When she pulled away, she straddled you, watching you like a predator that's pinned down a meal, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You couldn't find it in yourself to be scared.

"Fuck, the two of you are going to be the death of me." Casimir groaned, standing beside the bed with the most enamoured expression on his face.

Emm just chuckled and removed her shirt on one swift motion. She was still wearing that black lacy number you saw her wearing earlier and, honestly, the memory made your cheeks hot.

When you looked to Casimir, he was half undressed, a knowing look on his face like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

That just made you more flustered.

Though, maybe it was that or it was looking at Casimir undressed, the way he looked under his clothes. You didn't realised how muscular he was. He wasn't anything like Emm but he definitely wasn't a beanpole either.

"C'mon, then, darl', we don't got all night." Emm was suddenly falling back, pulling you with her.

You fell on top of her, your hands on either side of her. Your face flushed when you realised that, while you were ogling at her husband, she must've removed the rest of her clothes.

You sat in her lap, your hands shyly cupping her breasts, your thumbs playing with her nipples. Your eyes immediately looked to her for approval, your teeth biting at your lower lip.

Surprisingly, she looked just as shy as you.

"Sorry, haven't been with anyone other than this bozo since the, uh, accident." She explained, probably because she saw the confusion in your expression.

Then, she took one of your wrists into her hand, frown on her face. You looked down and realised that one of her breasts was a little bit smaller, with the same burns as the rest of her arm, shoulder and face on that side.

"I didn't even notice." You quickly told her, a loving smile on your face as you leaned down to place soft butterfly kisses among her burn scars "You're so beautiful, Emm."

Emm's other hand flew to her face, her hand covering her mouth. Finally, you saw her look at you, looking even more shy and flustered than before instead of confident and determined.

It made you feel just a little bit victorious.

"Don't forget about me." You felt a hand glide against your hip, up your shirt "You know, you haven't taken off your clothes. Naughty~~"

You sighed forlornly, like the last thing you wanted was to take your hands off of Emm. She placated you by pressing a chaste kiss against your lips before she was pulling off your bottoms and your underwear.

Casimir helped you from behind, removing everything from the waist up.

"And you callin' me beautiful? When you're this gorgeous?" It was Emm's turn to sigh as her hands explored your body, a lot like yours explored hers

Her hands started from your waist, sliding up to your chest, her thumbs playing with your nipples. Your back automatically bent back just to stick it out a bit more, urging her to play with them a bit more.

Casimir, on the other hand, was behind you, his hands cupping the insides of your thighs and pulling them apart.

"Fuck, are you sure?" Casimir muttered against the shell of your ear, his hips rutting against your lower back, his grip on the fat of your thighs only tightening.

You nodded frantically, like if they stopped right now, you'd die

"Bend forward a lil." Emm scooted back and you followed her like a moth to a flame, your lips searching for hers.

Of course, she obliged happily, kissing you in that same saccharine way you were growing more and more addicted to, this time her tongue tracing along your lips.

You let her slip into your mouth, let her deepen the kiss as her fingers threaded through your hair to pull you even closer.

When she had pulled you closer, though, you had ended up bending forward a little and, apparently, Casimir used that as an opportunity to play with you.

You heard the squirt of something and, immediately, you identified it as lube because you felt the chill of it dripping against your entrance.

You whimpered feebly into Emm's mouth but she didn't let you pull away from her. In fact, she just used it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss even more. She was practically eating you alive, her kiss less sweet and more hot.

That's when Casimir rubbed the lube all over your entrance with his fingers. Then, gently, almost methodically, he worked a finger in, slowly wiggling it to the first and then the second and then the last knuckle.

You moaned when you felt it go to the hilt before pulling out.

"Emm, you should see this." Casimir laughed almost meanly "What a fucking slut. They're dripping down here. Absolutely obscene."

Emm didn't say anything, didn't pull away. But you could tell she was tempted because her grip on your hair tightened considerably, making you whimper again.

Then, since you took the first finger just fine, Casimir worked a second and a third just as easily, just as methodically.

You kept moaning and whining, of course, that coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers.

Finally, Emm pulled away from the kiss and the two of you stared at each other for a bit, your foreheads pressed against each other, little soft huffs and groans leaving your lips.

"Cas'mir." You practically whimpered "Emmm."

You didn't know about Casimir but it definitely did something for Emm because she looked at you like you gave her everything she ever wanted on a silver platter.

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before leaning a bit more forward to press kisses to your neck.

Those kisses, unfortunately, turned into bites and hickeys. Not that you were complaining, of course, but you weren't looking forward to explaining them later in the morning either.

Finally, it was too much and your back bowed, your entire body crumpling as an orgasm wracked your brain and made you almost scream.

"Oh, what a good darlin'."

"A good slut's more like it."

Then, before you could even recover, you were being pushed up against something-- Casimir's chest? You looked up to see that Emm was looking at you with that hunger in her eyes again.

You lifted your arms up, gesturing for her to come close. She swooped down, of course happy enough to oblige. You couldn't even press a kiss to her lips before you felt Casimir pressing into you, his cock spreading your walls open.

You let out a small strangled groan, your head thrown back to rest against Casimir's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck, now that's a hole I can cum in." Casimir pressed his cheek against your temple and moaned, his slender fingers suddenly cupping the front of your neck.

You whimpered, happy to offer your neck to him, before whimpering even louder when you felt someone's (Casimir? Maybe Emm?) hands back in your hair, pulling it so that your head bent back even more and your back arched further.

You were so overwhelmed, so full of both pain and pleasure, that your brain felt like it was leaking out of your hole. Or was the saying 'out of your ears'?

"Cas'mir." You elected to moan instead, tilting your head towards the man. He answered your pathetic little moan with a soft kiss to your lips, placating you temporarily before his hips drew back and he started fucking you earnestly.

You couldn't even worry about whether or not your friends could hear you. Your hands were held at the wrists by someone (Both wrists in one hand?) and your mouth felt too loose.

What was happening?

You came again, your eyes screwing shut this time as your hips jutted helplessly. Someone had a hold on you though, pressing you into the relentless fucking of Casimir's thrusts.

"Don' worry, darl', we got you." Emm leaned into your other ear, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple "Just let us take care of you all night."

It was going to be a long night.

[bella-goths-wife]

Reunion for the damned

Yandere twilight x reader

Warnings: body horror, torture, suicidal thoughts, animal death mentioned, psychological abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, description of injury, smoking

Fic summary: your reunion with the volturi after your ‘kidnapping’ goes in an unexpected direction

“My sweet dear” Aro greeted as he perched on his marble throne alongside the rest of the volturi, genuine glee filling the eccentric man's face as he and the two other men look down at your figure that had been covered by your family's presence “how we’ve missed you”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to burst into a laughter of madness that no other fit could ever outshine. You just wanted to die and rot back into the ground, a fate you would welcome with a bared neck and open chest cavity at this point.

Everyone in the room stares at you in a way that shows they want something from you. The volturi wanted the truth from you, the cullens wanted you to remain quiet and hoped no one would notice the freshly healed over cracks on your skin that hasn't had just the right amount of time to fade completely, and the spectators to your situation just wanted something to satiate their greedy needs of entertainment. And you?, you just wanted to fade into the ground and sink slowly into the depths of your own exhaustion and paranoia.

The process of putting you back together again was pure agony, similar to gluing a porcelain cup back together piece by piece. Carlisle had not stopped at breaking just your hand off, he shattered away every limb below your neck off one by one, leaving you a tortured torso that screamed and begged for an inch of mercy but you weren't granted that. 

Carlise was nice enough to do the damage quickly instead of drawing the process out and risking accidentally sabotaging the delicate healing process. It seems the cullens sadism was outshined by their combined saviour complexes as they tried to make the healing process as comfortable for you as possible and took their turns ‘caring’ for you.

They laid you in the softest of beds and used washcloths to dab away the excess of tears that poured from your eyes, bringing you cups of blood with a cute straw to help you drink without the accessibility of your limbs. But laying in the silk sheets and drinking the finest blood did nothing to limit the horror of your situation. 

To heal the broken off limbs, the cullens strapped your torso down to the bed before laying the limbs in the original positions and allowing the vampire healing factors to work their unexplainable magic. Your limbs pulled themselves back together in a hellish process, similar to having your skin slowly stitched back together and bones forcibly fused. You screamed the entire time as you watched your porcelain textured skin reattach and you became whole again, the clattering and clicking of the process never able to be drowned out as you felt yourself slowly growing madder than the hatter.

It took three days for the bones to reform, an additional week for you to be able to use them fully again but not long enough for the cracks to fade and certainly never long enough for you to not get a phantom pain when you heard the clanking of porcelain or you see the cracks adorning your limbs.

Carlisle had wanted to let you rest at home longer, but the Volturi were not known for being patient and sent word for you as soon as they had heard their gentle heart had returned to her nest. And they were granted their wish as you stood before them, but this version of you wasn't the one they remembered.

“She’s missed you too, Aro” Carlisle offers after your silence goes on too long, the man can withstand committing violent acts of torture but couldnt handle a slight impoliteness or ongoing awkward silence “She’s just more quiet, after her little situation”

Aro eyed your figure in a suspicious manner, gaze meeting the hints to the cracks on your skin that had been hidden beneath conservative clothing you’d been dressed in, your chest had gone back to being forcibly bound once again. Physically you looked almost identical to the girl he remembered, but the added horror in your eyes was a new touch.

“Lucky for us all, I can see everything i need to know from a simple touch of my sweet girls hand” Aro states in a sweet tone as he comes closer but he only invites you to move further back behind the figures of your family “dear, don’t you want me to know of your journey, so i can make it better?”

You want to believe that the volturi will free you, that aro will free you and bring you to a safe environment away from the cullens where you could fix the irreparable damage they had caused your soul, but that was all just a fantasy. They knew what pain the cullens had done in the past and could do nothing to help you then, why be foolish enough to believe in childish notions of saviours now you had experienced the scorching hot pain of helplessness and disappointment. Instead you choose to cower behind your captors because the hundreds of years with them had made you accustomed to what they are, and you now believed it was safer to stick with the devil you know rather than choose a new path that only prolongs the pain and brings you to the same conclusion.

“She isn’t fond of being touched these days, by anyone other than her family that is” Carlisle answers for you once again, a subtle jab to the Volturi that has you hearing cracking sounds from Caius’s marble throne, a sound that makes you flinch slightly due to the familiarity of the sound “and we’ve discussed that she doesn't wish to relive what happened, it's just too much for the girl to bare”

“Then have her tell us” Caius demands as he stands from his throne and is only stopped by Aro’s raised hand and your further retreat behind the Cullens “what did those rogues do?”

“You are safe now, dear” Marcus reassures from his throne with a concerned expression on his face, you want to scoff at the word safe as you doubt you’ve felt safe since the day you were turned into the monster you are now “you can confide in us”

Your eyes look at them but your figure continues to shrink into itself as the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up at the sense that the Cullens were watching you, dissecting your every move and waiting to pounce once you said the wrong thing or you gave the wrong look.

“Speak, child” Caius demanded out of frustration as he rose from his throne and strided forward to you, his intention wasn't to distress you but to know what had been done to you in your absence “or did the rogues take out your damned tongue?”

You back away at his sudden presence and feel yourself gulping air that your body didn’t need. Caius is taken aback by this reaction, you had not feared him in decades as you were one of the very few he allowed to see him soft, this was not the girl he remembered so fondly, this was a husk of the gentle soul he had once known.

“Enough, Caius” Aro yells as his hand lands on Caius’s shoulder to stop his demanding approach, the Cullens surrounding you hiss at him aggressively “the poor girl is shaking, leave her be”

Guilt is an emotion that Caius wasn’t used to feeling, sometimes he doubts he’s even able to do so. You prove he can when his eyes land on your trembling figure and widened eyes

“Perhaps it's best if the child waits outside in the gardens while we discuss what happened” Marcus offers as he senses the pure unease and the shift in yours and Caius’s dynamic “if the subject is too much for her to recount”

There is a shift in Carlisle’s demeanour, unable to be caught by people other than your family. There is a glint of victory in his eyes as he senses an opening, a way to shift the narrative into what his delusions have convinced him is the truth. He can tell the story without the pesky intrusions such as your opinion or the truth.

“Excellent idea” Carlisle flashes his charming smile once again “Alice, Jasper, go take her to the gardens-”

“No” Aro interrupts, shocking the Cullens as he waves them away “Jane and Alec will escort her, give them a chance to catch up”

“Aro” Carlisle says warningly, his hand holding onto your shoulder tightly “she's fragile, she should be with family-”

“It wasn't a request” Aro says with a tight grin “loosen the leash Carlisle”

Carlisle sighs and lets go of his tight grip on your shoulder, giving you a final warning look that’s only met with your dead eyes and a nod. Jane and Alec are at your side instantly as they guide you out the room, the door closing behind the three of you

“Now, Cullens” Aro speaks as all three of the Volturi kings look at the family with menacing expressions “tell us what happened to our gentle girl”

The Cullen family couldn’t help but feel nervous at the new sense of suspicion that entered in your absence, trapping them in place.

———————————————————————

Jane and Alec try to talk to you once you reach the gardens, Alec mostly carrying the attempts as Jane observes you with her usual cold, stoic expression yet to the trained eye, traces of concern were etched into her gaze.

You didn’t speak much in return, offering mumbled out yes or nos and small hums in response to their words. It was a strange sight for the two, usually your lovely voice would fill the voids of silence the two siblings had between each other but now you were like a songbird who had lost her voice and now sat sadly at the bottom of her golden cage.

“The night is quite lovely out here tonight” Alec commented as he stood beside you on the balcony overlooking the gardens, the moonlight shining down softly but his words were only met with a small nod from you.

“I’m sure there are some birds around here you could control” Jane offers in her usual stoic tone as her eyes search the treelines for any wildlife “an owl perhaps”

“I don’t really do that much anymore” you mumble out quietly, this news taking the two aback slightly due to them knowing how much you loved your gift and how effortlessly you were usually able to connect with the nature around you “Can’t really find a connection”

You choose to leave ot the fact that any animal you choose to find a connection with chooses to die rather than share your bond, birds flying into windows to avoid singing for you and smaller animals starving themselves rather than to sit at your side.

Your response is only met with silence from the siblings as they’re thoughts race at the revelation, eyes darting to take in every little detail of your demeanour, your dead eyes and tense shoulders as if you were expecting pain to be inflicted at any moment.

“Will you tell us what happened to you, dearest friend?” Jane asks as she stands before you, blood red eyes meeting yours in hidden yearning, desperation “confide in us what has been done to you?”

You still at the question, it's hard to answer questions about the supposed nightmare of your absence without admitting its the most freedom you’ve ever experienced in your life and how much you wish you could magic yourself back into that shared motel room with James and Victoria.

“It's not what you think” is all you offer through a hushed whisper as you avoid their intruding gazes 

“Well what can we do to fix it” Alec demands as he intrudes on your personal space in order to bring him a glimpse of the girl you were “to fix you”

Alec had certainly picked up on more of Caius’s habits than either of them would admit, both being hot headed when it concerned you and both blunt when looking to find the cure for you.

“Alec” Jane attempts to calm her brother but he’s already passed his emotional threshold, years of being in the high guard had made them both accustomed to getting their own way so your lack of usual sweetness and cooperation seemed to grate on Alec

“We can get you whatever you need to feel better” Alec offers in a slightly desperate manner “blood, animals, revenge, whatever it takes to heal your mind and to soothe you”

“Freedom” is what your mind screams but your mouth does not allow to speak “freedom is the only thing to fix me, and the one thing you cannot give”

“Just speak it and we can make it happen, dearest” Jane tries to encourage as she notices your mouth open and struggle to find the words 

“I…I wish to be alone” you struggle to ask but you look at the siblings with those big eyes of yours, and manage to give them a glimpse of who you once were “please?”

The siblings look at each other before Alec sighs and Jane nods her head, both of them leaving you alone without a word, sensing that pushing you further would only cause more hurt and distress.

You're left alone to stare off the balcony, looking down at the bottom and wondering what kind of fall that would be. You closed your eyes as you envisioned yourself climbing over the balcony and dropping to the bottom, would your body crack like a porcelain doll like how carlisle broke your hand off or would it splinter off like wood like when Emmett pushed your hips too hard into the ground. The thought brings James to mind and the pure guilt causes you to let out a sigh.

“The fall wouldn’t kill you” Your eyes flash open at the sound of a man's voice, turning to find a handsome blonde vampire stood beside you with a cigarette between his fingers and a stoic expression “not unless you knocked down one of the lanterns with you, still a risky move that'll probably only end with you missing a limb though”

You wince slightly at his words, your eyes looking down to your cracked skin and sighing.

“Sorry” he apologises in a way that doesn’t sound very genuine, exhaling the smoke from his lit cigarette “too soon?”

You frown at him as your gaze narrows at his mocking words, eyes landing on his hand that cradles his lit cigarette.

“Does that even do anything for you?” you mutter out curiously, a light scoff emitted from your throat 

“Not much” he admits with a careless shrug “but i enjoy the smell”

Your nose crinkles slightly in disgust but you offer him a silent nod as he exhales his smoke.

“So, is making suicidal plans the way you spend your time nowadays?” The vampire asks with a raise brow as he leans against the balcony carelessly 

“Do we know each other?” you ask with a frown, confused on how he can speak to you so brazenly 

“You and I have been scandalously acquainted for some time now” the vampire states cryptically “just never face to face”

You're about to enquire on whatever that means, a blur of red in the corner of your eye captures your attention instead as you turn your head quickly in the hopes of catching a hint of Victoria and instead finding just a red haired volturi member passing by instead, your shoulders slumping at the revelation.  

Your mind had constantly run through scenarios of what had happened to Victoria and where she could be now. Though you doubt that wherever she was that she’d want to see you again, the guilt of James death weighing heavy on your heart-

“She doesn't blame you, y’know” the handsome vampire speaks beside you, interrupting your thoughts once again “stupid to think she would be, wasn’t your fault”

“How would you know?” you ask with a light scoff

“Because I watched everything that happened and I see everything that will happen” the vampire speaks cryptically once again but his blunt tone takes you aback “she still looks for you y’know, not that she’ll find you again with those freaks looking after you-”

“Why are you speaking to me like this?” you interrupt with a frown, partly out of frustration and partly out of confusion as someone speaks of the Cullens disrespectfully.

“Because I know a thing or two about living under the thumb of those who have robbed you of what was yours and expect a thank you for it” he scoffs out before taking a drag of his cigarette “I know the dark place your mind is in, been there once or twice myself”

A heavy silence sits between the two of you, the only sound being the owls in the trees

“...how did you escape them?” you ask quietly as you copy his stance of leaning against the balcony “your captors”

“I played the long game, let the treat me like an animal and spit in my face and thanked them for it until I had the chance to commit my revenge” he explains stoically “I waited for the perfect moment”

“Didn’t work out well for me” you remark bitterly but you're only rewarded with a scoff from the vampire “what?”

“You didn’t do it right, you waited for others to join you before you committed to the idea of revenge or freedom outside of dying” the vampire scoffs out “granted you played the long game but you played it so long that you grew too content with the idea that death was the only way out”

“I tried-” you attempt to interrupt but the man turns to you suddenly and looks you in the eyes

“You were weak, you waited on others to save you” the man states bluntly “nobody is coming to save you, either do it yourself or accept the Cullens as your forever home”

Your eyes widen at his words and blunt demeanour and the truth he held, the truth that others had shielded you from and that you’d buried within yourself to avoid facing. He didn't coddle you or sugarcoat his words for you, he spoke to you like you could handle it and treated you almost like an equal.

“I’m not saying it to be mean” he states calmly “but no one ever speaks to you plainly, your not a kid and you can handle the truth”

“What's your name?” you ask suddenly, an act that has the vampires eyes widening in shock

“Alexander Johnson Ward” he answers with a narrowed gaze, he was expecting tears, not personal questions “people call me Johnny”

“Thank you, Johnny” you say genuinely as you look up at him in light curiosity “for the advice”

“No problem” Johnny responds with a slight huff of amusement as he puts his cigarette out “I better get out of here”

“I’ll see you around?” you call after his retreating figure with a curious tone

“Like a shadow” he calls back before leaving you alone on the balcony, your eyes following his absence.

You hear the gentle sounds of an owl in the trees nearby, closing your eyes and summoning it closer. The owl perches on the edge of the balcony in front of you, being able to connect with an animal without it dying for the first time in a while. You stroke the owl gently and listen to its gentle song as your mind tries to form your next plan.

Nobody is going to save you, you need to save yourself this time.

How do y’all like the update you’ve been wanting for nearly two years? 😅

[multific]

Blood and Honor

Yautja x Reader (Teen!Version)

Summary: Your half-Yautja son, now fourteen, has grown restless, his defiance turning to violence.

The tension in your home had been brewing for months, thick and stifling like the heat before a storm.

Your son, fourteen years old and strong beyond his years, had begun to reject your authority.

His Yautja blood demanded dominance, yet he was still so young, so lost between two worlds, too human for the clans, too Yautja for the human life.

And he took it out on you.

“Do not test me,” you warned, voice firm yet calm, as you stood between him and the entrance to your home. He had been pushing, lashing out, knocking things over when anger overtook him.

The child who once clung to you with gentle claws now stared at you with defiance burning in his golden eyes.

“You are weak,” he snarled, his mandibles twitching, muscles coiled with restrained rage. “You do not command me.”

The words cut deeper than you expected.

Your chest ached, not with fear, but with heartbreak.

He didn’t understand.

You weren’t trying to control him, you were trying to protect him. From himself, from the world that would not see him as either human or Yautja.

Before you could respond, his patience snapped.

With a roar, he lunged.

The impact sent you stumbling backwards. Clawed hands found your arms, squeezing too hard, too rough.

Pain seared up your side as you struck the stone wall, your breath knocked from your lungs. And then, before he could strike again, your mate was there.

With terrifying speed, the massive Yautja tore his son away from you, the sheer force of his grip making the boy yelp.

He slammed him against the ground, one knee pressing down hard against his chest, and his own mandibles flared in warning.

“You dare raise your hands against your mother?” his voice was a deep, rough growl, shaking with barely restrained fury. “You disgrace yourself.”

Your son thrashed, but he was no match for his father’s strength.

“She is weak,” the boy spat again, struggling beneath his father's weight. “She does not deserve my submission.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before your mate struck him, not in anger, but with the force of a teacher delivering a harsh lesson.

A sharp cuff to the side of the head, enough to disorient, enough to humble.

“Then you are not worthy of her.”

A stillness fell over the room, suffocating in its weight. Your mate remained crouched over your son, his claws pressing down against the boy’s heaving chest.

“She carried you,” he growled. “She bled for you. She has tended to your wounds, fed you when you were too weak to hunt. She has taught you more than your own kind would ever allow.”

The boy’s breath hitched.

His golden eyes darted to you, still pressed against the wall, a hand clutching your bruised side.

His hands trembled as if he were only now realising what he had done. The scent of your pain filled the air.

Your mate leaned in close near his son’s face, his voice dangerous and unwavering. “You are Yautja. You are human. But you are not a beast. And if you ever dishonour your mother again, you will know the true weight of my wrath.”

The boy stilled beneath him. His breathing came faster, uneven.

You could see the conflict in his young face. He was so much like his father, too much.

And then, he let out a choked sound.

He had never cried before. Not once. Even as a small child, he had held his pain close, refusing to cry as his Yautja blood demanded restraint.

But now, with his father towering above him, with you still clutching your bruised ribs, shame broke him.

“I-” His voice cracked. He turned his head, his claws digging into the floor. “I did not mean-”

But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

The hurt sat too heavy in your chest, not just from the bruises but from the knowledge that he had truly tried to harm you.

Your mate stood, towering over his son as he motioned toward you. “It is not me you must answer to.”

Slowly, painfully, the boy sat up.

He glanced at his father, then at you.

He was still just a child beneath all that defiance, beneath the fangs and claws.

He dragged himself forward on his knees, head bowed, a sign of submission, of shame.

“I hurt you.” His voice was quiet now, hoarse. “I did not mean it. I…” His hands clenched against his thighs. “I only wanted to prove myself. But that is no reason to hurt you.”

Your fingers twitched at your side. He looked so small then, despite his size.

Despite his strength.

Your mate did not interfere. This was between the two of you.

“I don’t like being hurt,” you said at last, voice softer now, but firm. “I don’t like when you look at me and see weakness instead of love.”

The boy flinched.

His claws scraped against the stone floor. “I do not think you are weak,” he admitted, eyes still lowered. “I think… I do not know what I am.”

Your chest tightened. You moved forward, ignoring the sharp sting in your ribs, and reached out. Your fingers cupped his cheek, pulling his gaze to yours. His golden eyes were wide, uncertain, still glassy with held-back tears.

“You are mine,” you whispered. “You always will be.”

A sound escaped him, raw and aching.

He surged forward before you could say anything else, arms wrapping around you, claws trembling against your back.

He buried his face into your shoulder, breathing you in like he used to when he was small.

Your mate let out a deep, approving hum from behind you, watching as his son desired your comfort. A lesson learned, a bond reforged.

As you stroked your son’s back, his body shaking from the weight of everything, you knew this moment had changed him.

For the better.

And for the first time in months, peace settled over your home once more.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[lucycore]

Unexpected - Jason voorhees x reader

(2009 reboot version of Jason)

It's time for Kinktoberrr babes

⚠️ smut one shot ⚠️

Since you saved the life of Jasons mom when she got injured pretty badly, Jason and Pamela were very fond of you. You were a young nurse when that happened so Pamela wanted Jason to always protect you no matter what.

One night a group of young adults came camping near the crystal lake, you knew this was immediate death for those people but you couldn't stop Jason either so you just let it happen.

While Jason was out there slashing his victims you went swimming in the lake. You loved the dark night and the full moon being the only lightning. Pamela always used to joke around that you might turn into a mermaid if you continue swimming at full moon. You smiled at that memory while relaxing in the water.

After Jason was done which was surprisingly an easy kill or kills, he heard some splashing in the lake, thinking someone might escaped and hid there. When he went to check he saw you swimming naked. Your clothes were chilling on the ground. He hid behind trees and watched you being naked for the first time. He couldn't take his eyes off of your beautiful breasts. You looked so smooth and petite while the moon light was shining at your wet tits.

He never felt aroused like this. His grip around the tree tightened and so did his jeans. You opened your eyes ready to come out of the water, not expecting that you were being watched, you got out showing off your whole beautiful body which hypnotized Jason so much, he couldn't even hear his moms voice.

You turned around as you heard some movements but you didn't think much of it and quickly returned to your little shack where you lived. There's something peaceful about staying alone in the woods next to a lake. You liked it way more than staying at an apartment in the middle of a busy street with the pipes dripping.

You went into your bedroom to change into your night dress, not knowing that Jason was stalking you from your window as you forgot to close the curtains. He would never expect to feel lust which was such a strange feeling. To him it felt like an instinct that would eventually make him attack you which was absolutely forbidden and he never wanted to anyway.

You changed and before you could get into bed and shut the lights off, you heard your doors opening. You turned around and saw Jason standing there. He couldn't hold his impulse in any longer. He had to fuck you now.

"Jason? What are you doing here?..Is everything okay?" You asked concerned cuz he never visited you in the middle of the night.

He didn't answer, he never talked to you but with time you learned to read his body language. Tho he seemed fine, he looked very tense. Something wasn't right.

He stepped further inside and with every step closer to you. You didn't move cuz you trusted him but you couldn't deny the fact that you felt a little anxious.

He looked down at your body, thinking back of how he saw you completely naked.

"Jason?" You woke him up and his head immediately went up.

He took one more step and with a violent grip threw you on the bed with your face facing the pillows while he went on top of you.

"Wtf Jason!" You yelled and tried to get free wiggling your legs which didn't help at all cuz you were just so much smaller and more petite than him. His body overpowered you with ease.

He had 0 experience. He didn't know how sex worked or what he had to do. The only knowledge he had was from watching people that came camping and fucked.

He suddenly stood up turned you around and dragged you by your feet closer to the middle of the bed. He quickly ripped your night dress revealing your breasts and your pussy. He had you completely naked laying under him. It was like a dream come true to him while you were confused and scared.

"What got into him?" You thought. "I thought he hated seeing people fucking and wnated to kill them."

He moved his head closer to your hair and like an animal sniffed you down to your neck and tits. To him you smelled amazing. He loved how you smelled, it really got him going. He then grabbed your tits with both of his hands and started squishing them violently.

You squirmed a little but didn't really try to stop him. You noticed that he got horny but didn't know how to treat a womans body that way.

You spread your legs a little, giving him a small hint on where to touch you. He looked down and spread your legs a little more with his hands to give him better access. He brushed with his fingers over your clit to your butthole. You moaned softly at his touch and when he noticed it's like a button that will give him a noise when he presses it, he did it again with more pressure and looked immediately at your face to see the reaction. He made a slightly louder noise which he loved. After all he's also a human being with needs and we were made to reproduce so those instincts came naturally. Also you haven't had a guy in a long time and being touched by one, especially so tall and strong and manly really got you wet.

You took his hand and placed it on your clit to signal him that that's the place he should touch. He immediately started rubbing it. Your head fell back while rolling your eyes in pleasure. The faster he rubbed the louder you got. His hands went on to search around your pussy a bit more and he found your entrance. It was wet, warm and delicate. He never felt something better in his entire life. He stuck one finger inside and started moving in and out making you moan louder and enjoying every inch of his long finger. He added another one and used the other hand to rub your clit. Your moans became higher and louder. Your pussy tightened are his fingers and as he fingered you faster and rubbed your clit harder, you came squirting for the first time as his fingers hit your sweet spot.

You looked so fucking sexy cumming. He fell in love with that vision and wanted more of it as he was proud of him archiving more than some experienced guys that need ages to find the clit.

He quickly just opened his pants and got his dick out not having time to completely strip. He wanted to feel you now. Right now.

You moved up a little and your mouth fell open as you saw his big veiny cock. You swallowed at his size. You never experienced something this big in a guy.

He violently turned you around so you were on all 4 and smashed his whole body against yours to feel every inch of you. He wrapped one arm around your neck with his hand grabbing onto your shoulder. He chocked you a little with his arm but it felt perfect.

With his other hand he placed his dick at your entrance and after moving his hand to hold your hip he started fucking you. You gasped at his length inside you cuz you weren't used to this much.

Jason loved that feeling so much he started thrusting faster and faster, stretching your walls making you feel it in your stomach and guts. You were moaning so loudly like never before. It was a lot to handle but you loved the pain that came with it.

His long dick hit your sweet spot even better than his fingers did what made you moan like a complete slut. His dick almost pocketed out your underbelly. You could really see his dick thrusting in and out of you. Good thing you couldn't see your stomach cuz it looked quite scary how far his dick reached.

You were moaning and screaming in pleasure. He needed to feel your pussy with his fingers again so he placed two on your clit and rubbed you violently, raping your clit with his fingers.

His arm around your neck moved you closer to him and your eyes rolled back and your head fell back feeling his breathes on your neck.

"Ugh Jason" You moaned his name which made him go like mad. He thrusted so fucking fast into your cunt, it looked like rape but you enjoyed every bit of it. You loved getting your cunt ruined by his cock not being worried that you wouldn't be able to walk for a few days. You enjoyed here and now without worrying about anything.

You were close. Your pussy tightened again but this time around his cock which made him breath out so loudly, it made him tilt his head back.

"Fuck Jason I'm fucking close!"

You continued moaning like crazy and starting to scream as you came on his dick. Squirting on it as your hands grabbed the white bed sheets. This had to the best orgasm you've ever had.

Jason was far from close and didn't even think of stopping so he just continued and thursted harder and harder into your already sore and red cunt.

Your moans were filled with pain as his breathing became faster with every thrust. You could feel his dick vibrating and twitching inside you before he finally released his huge load. Breeding you and probably impregnating you. I mean look at him..One baby won't hurt and I bet his babies would be such cuties.

After he released deep inside you he fell on your back pushing you down on the bed. He was heavy, he almost crushed your lungs so you wiggled under him signing him to move away from you. He rolled over the bed and tried catching his breath like an animal after haunting down it's prey.

You were also out of you but you calmed down faster, already feeling slight stinging in your pussy. You knew these coming few days would be hell walking so you already prepared yourself for as little movement as possible.

You looked over at Jason who was still breathing heavily but slowly seemed to calm down. He was shocked how such an activity would tire him out this much. I mean he kills groups of people and even then he isn't out of breath like he's now.

But he loved it. He will definitely do it again.

—

I don't think this imagine came out like I wanted it to but I just let my brain lead me haha

[iydiamartinx]

SCREAM FOR ME

( slasher au )

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 1.1k synopsis: The mask was his secret. But you were always his obsession. a/n: Again I know this is more suited for Halloween but I don't care, we're close enough lol

You’d always thought there was something magnetic about Dick Grayson.

People flocked to him wherever he went. He had that kind of pull that didn’t announce itself—just was. It lingered in the soft curl of his smile, the easy tilt of his head when he listened, the way his laugh lit up the room. He moved through the world like nothing could touch him, like he existed half a step above the rest of Gotham’s grime.

And somehow, he made you feel untouched too.

You remembered the first time his eyes found yours: blue as a summer sky, steady as a heartbeat, and so achingly gentle you forgot how to breathe. He made you feel like the only person in his world when his blue eyes found yours. 

He was the kind of man who helped old ladies cross the street without waiting for thanks. Who kissed your knuckles like it was instinct, not performance. Who memorized your coffee order down to the syrup pumps and never once had to ask again.

So when the murders started—when Gotham became a hunting ground, and bodies began to turn up staged like something out of a macabre film set—you never once looked at him.

Why would you?

He was Dick. Gotham’s golden boy. The good one of his brothers.

Even when your neighbour turned up dead, blood-soaked and sprawled across their own welcome mat like a grotesque greeting card, you didn’t question him. Not when the news anchors said the killer was still out there. Not even when your friend Celia stopped answering her texts and you found her apartment door kicked in days later.

No. You didn’t connect the dots.

You were too busy clinging to the comfort of his arms, to the way he made you feel safe when the city outside promised only shadows. Too busy drowning in kisses that tasted like promises. Like safety.

Until the drawer.

You hadn’t meant to find it. You were just looking for your charger. But when you tugged open the third drawer in his dresser and felt the bottom shift under your fingers, instinct took over.

A false panel.

Underneath it: a sleek, black hunting knife. A small voice changer. And a stack of photographs bound by a crimson ribbon—Photos of you.

Some were candid—taken while you walked home from work or stood in line for coffee, smiling at strangers who had no idea how close danger lurked.

Others were… different. Intimate. Vulnerable. Through your bedroom window. From the alley across the street. One from inside the stairwell of your building, looking down on you as you unlocked your front door.

Your fingers trembled as you flipped through them.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t want to believe it. You tried to tell yourself it was for protection. That maybe someone else had been stalking you—and he just hadn’t told you yet because he didn’t want to scare you.

But deep down, you knew. And then you saw it.

Scrawled across the back of one—your face blurred slightly in motion, head turned mid-laugh—was a single word. Written in familiar looping script you’d seen a hundred times in birthday cards, notes on the fridge, the labels on your shared spice rack:

Mine.

You turned the photo over again, as if the word might vanish under your gaze. As if staring hard enough might twist its meaning into something else. Something harmless.

But it didn’t.

Because there was no protecting this. no innocent explanation for the hunting knife. No misunderstanding that could explain the surveillance photos. The voice changer. The false drawer. No explanation that made sense—except the one you didn’t want to face.

A dull roaring filled your ears. Your hand trembled. You didn’t even realize you were backing away until your shoulder bumped the wall. You had to get out. You had to—

You turned to run.

And froze.

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t find that.” He drawled.

You swallowed.

Dick stood in the doorway, one hand braced lightly against the frame, the other in the pocket of his jeans. Golden light spilled in behind him, bathing him in the warm glow of early evening. He looked like he always did—relaxed, unbothered, beautiful.

But there was something in his eyes. Something cold. Like ice beneath the surface of a still lake. You wouldn’t notice it at first. Not unless you were already sinking.

He took a step inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

“Is this a joke?” you asked, voice breaking. “Tell me it’s a joke.”

He tilted his head, almost amused. “Why would I joke about something so personal?”

Your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. “You killed them.”

“I did.” He said it without pause. No stutter. No remorse. “But in my defense…” he began, stepping forward with the easy grace of a man who had no reason to run, “they were getting too close.”

You stepped back instinctively. Your legs hit the edge of the bed. You didn’t sit—you didn’t dare—but your escape was cut off, your breath coming fast now.

“Too close to what?” you whispered.

“To you.”

Your stomach twisted.

His gaze flicked down—just for a moment—as if seeing you now was almost painful. “Do you know how many people looked at you?” he asked, his voice like velvet rage. “How many touched you? Smiled at you like they had a right to?”

He took another step. You didn’t move.

“You think any of them could’ve loved you like I do?”

His smile softened again. Sweet. Unsettling.

“I couldn’t let them have you.”

You couldn’t breathe. “You lied to me.”

“I loved you,” he corrected. “Still do.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

“You lied to me,” you finally managed, and it felt like a betrayal just to say it out loud.

“No.” His voice was gentle now. Almost tender. “I loved you. I still do.”

He was in front of you now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to—

No.

“But now you know,” he murmured. “So what happens next depends on you.”

Your heart thrashed in your chest, adrenaline kicking like it wanted to tear itself free. You stared at him. At the man you’d kissed goodnight. The man who made you laugh until your ribs hurt. The man who—

Slipped something into your hand.

You looked down.

The mask. Smooth. White. Featureless except for the empty, mocking grin.

Ghostface.

“You can scream,” he said, voice soft, almost coaxing. “Run. Tell them what I did.”

Then his smile shifted—just slightly. Enough.

“But then I’d have to kill you.”

You swallowed hard. Your fingers tightened involuntarily around the mask.

He leaned in, eyes never leaving yours.

“Or… you can stay. And never have to be afraid again.”

He loved you like a prayer. But maybe he prayed in blood.

So what would you choose?

To run from the devil in disguise…Or put on the mask—and stand at his side?

[cece693]

Could I request some Hannigram for a reader who operates on a backwards schedule? Like eating breakfast at 9pm and dinner at 7am.

Anytime they’re seen during the daytime they just look exhausted, lol

My Morning vs. Your Night

pairing: hannigram x gender neutral reader tags: hannigram are worried, your job is vague so it's up to your interpretation, you look dead and are exhausted, caring hannigram

You didn’t mind the hours at first. Working through the night suited your quiet nature, and the city seemed more peaceful under fluorescent lights and moonlit streets. You liked the dark, the hush it carried, and the way no one needed anything from you except your job’s unrelenting demands. But even you had to admit it was taking a toll.

You could feel your body fraying at the edges. Nights had become days—your sun rose while others slept, and your “good morning” was usually a mumbled greeting at 7 p.m. Then, when the world was waking up, you were crawling under the blankets.

Will was the first to notice the strain. He always noticed things—something about the way your eyes lost their usual spark, the way your head would loll forward in the middle of conversation. He’d be sitting at the kitchen table, feeding the dogs in the early morning, while you stumbled into the house just before dawn. His brows would crease in that concerned way, the same gentle worry he wore when coaxing stray animals to trust him.

Hannibal, in contrast, observed you more subtly. He measured the dark circles under your eyes, the slump in your posture. He noted the times you arrived too late or too early for a meal, rummaging for breakfast at nine in the evening. He witnessed how exhaustion made you forget to eat proper dinners, your last substantial meal too many hours in the past. Their worry was shared—spoken in Will’s gentle voice and in Hannibal’s carefully worded suggestions.

Hannibal was a blur of precision as he artfully arranged your plate—a culinary masterpiece that qualified as breakfast by your schedule. Hash browns with a fried egg, a delicate drizzle of sauce that smelled faintly of herbs. He placed the plate in front of you, leaning in with an elegant posture. “You must eat,” he said softly, voice like silk on porcelain. “Your body needs care even if your hours are reversed.”

You tried to give him a small smile of gratitude, but your eyes slid closed for just a moment of rest. It felt like even blinking took more energy than you had. “I am eating,” you replied, forcing cheer into your tone. You sank your fork into the food, and as always, it was divine. This didn’t escape your notice, but your taste buds and Hannibal’s cooking had begun to take a backseat to pure fatigue.

Will hovered by your side. He still wore a sweater with a few dog hairs clinging to the sleeves, and the usual shadows of his own weariness had nothing on the purple bruises beneath your eyes. “I’m worried about you,” he said, gently patting your shoulder. “This isn’t healthy. You’re coming home in the morning and not even sleeping properly. You hardly rest before you go back out again.”

Your gaze shifted to him, and your heart clenched at the genuine concern carved into his expression. “It’s just the nature of the work,” you said quietly. “I can’t exactly turn it down. They need me.” Will exhaled, and Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder as if reminding him to tread carefully.

A week later, the inevitable crash came. Maybe it was a double shift that turned into a triple. Maybe it was the pounding headache that refused to relent. You wound up driving home while the sun was already high in the sky—past 7 a.m., well into your typical “dinnertime,” but you’d missed all your usual signals.

You stumbled into the house, tears of frustration threatening to fall. You kicked off your shoes, ignoring the annoyed whine of your tired muscles, and almost collapsed in the foyer.

Will was there in an instant, arms catching you around the waist. “Whoa, easy,” he said, voice thick with concern. “Let me help you—just breathe.”

Hannibal appeared like a shadow, as swift as a heartbeat, pressing a gentle hand to your forehead. You saw the flicker of alarm in his eyes. You must have looked truly terrible. Your eyelids fluttered, the world turning blurry. “I’m so tired,” you mumbled, as if your exhaustion was something new and shocking.

Will and Hannibal exchanged a look above your hunched form, and Will gently scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the couch. You sank into it like a wilted flower. Before you could register it, Hannibal disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. No one spoke until you took a few sips, water dribbling down your chin. Your hands shook so hard it was difficult to hold the glass.

Then Hannibal, with a low, steady voice, said, “We can’t watch you do this to yourself any longer.”

Will nodded. “We talked about it and we think you should quit this job. Please. For your own sake.”

It wasn’t an easy decision. You’d put so much into this job. But you remembered all those times you nearly passed out at your desk, times you neglected meals, the nights you promised Will you’d be home by dawn only to arrive in the bright glare of midday. So you stood in your supervisor’s office the next afternoon (evening, by your internal clock) and handed over your resignation. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—fear, relief, regret, and anticipation. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a proper sunrise while wide awake.

Stepping out of that building for the last time, you felt lighter. Your phone buzzed with a waiting text from Will:

We’re so proud of you. Come home safe.

It took a while to reset your routine. At first, you still found yourself awake at bizarre hours—your stomach growling at midnight, craving what it had learned to call breakfast. But now, when you emerged from the bedroom at odd times, you were greeted by Will in the living room, dozing lightly, as though waiting for you. Hannibal often had a small snack prepared, an elegant amuse-bouche to tide you over while your body adjusted.

Some nights, Hannibal would read aloud from a book of poetry while you rested your head in Will’s lap, focusing on the cadence of Hannibal’s voice to soothe your restless mind. Will’s fingers combed absently through your hair, grounding you. Slowly, you found yourself drifting off earlier and waking closer to what most people called “morning.” You’d have breakfast around nine—actual nine in the morning. Will smiled at you over a cup of coffee, and Hannibal offered you a plate of fresh fruit and delicate pastries.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had breakfast with both Will and Hannibal in natural morning light. It felt surreal, a luxury you hadn’t realized you’d been missing for so long. The kitchen was bathed in a gentle glow from the rising sun, and for once, you didn’t have to squint against it, half-conscious from a grueling shift.

“How do you feel?” Will asked, sliding you a cup of tea.

You paused, steam rising into your face, the warmth of the mug cupped in your hands. “I feel…rested.” The word sounded alien, but it made you laugh a little. “I forgot what that was like.”

Hannibal, perched elegantly across from you, inclined his head. “It is good to see color in your cheeks again. You have a natural glow this morning.”

Will’s foot nudged yours under the table, an affectionate gesture. “Not that you aren't handsome/beautiful, of course,” he teased in his soft, playful way, “but you did look like a ghost for a while there.”

A shy laugh escaped you, and you reached across to squeeze his hand briefly. “It’s strange, but i’m glad I quit.”

“Good,” Hannibal responded, his smile as subtle as ever. “Because your well-being is paramount. To both of us.” A comfortable silence settled among the three of you. It was only broken by the quiet clink of silverware on plates and the soft hum of the dogs in the next room. You took in the moment, letting your shoulders relax in a way they hadn’t in ages. The day stretched ahead of you—not night, not the sleepless hours, but a real day full of possibilities and the promise of healthy routines. Will winked at you before biting into a piece of toast, and Hannibal sipped his coffee with measured elegance.