#slasher x fem!reader

[multific]

Motherhood

Yautja x Reader

Summary: After you gave birth to your son, it took you some time to get used to having a half-Yautja and half-human. 

You felt sore all over. 

You moved against the fur but your whole body felt sore.

You could hear your mate’s soft breathing, it immediately made you feel at ease.

Yet, something felt out of place.

As you stirred from your sleep, you sat up in your bed and looked around. Everything looked normal, except for one thing.

The little child who used to be under your heart was now in a crib beside you. 

You looked at your mate, sleeping soundly beside you.

He got used to sleeping with you to the point where he didn’t even care anymore if you moved or woke up. 

It wasn’t always like that.

He often woke up with you when he took you into his home, but he got gradually used to you being with him.

You moved over to the crib, leaving the warmth of your bed, you stood up and got your son out of his crib.

It was a little strange to call him your son, after all, he looked nothing like you.

He looked like a pure Yautja, except for his eyes, his eyes were yours.

He wasn’t sleeping when you lifted him out of his crib, instead, he was watching, learning.

You ignored all the pain in your body as you moved out of the bedroom and into what you would call a kitchen.

You got yourself a glass of water as you sat down on one of the chairs. With your child in your arms, you moved him so you could see his face.

He laid in your lap.

“Will you never cry?” But your Baby had no reply. Of course, he didn’t he wasn’t even a day old. You watched him as his eyes wandered from your eyes to your chest and hands. 

You held a finger out to him, which caught his attention and he immediately grabbed it.

He continued to watch your finger as you smiled.

This little moment reminded you that even if he looked like a Yautja, he was still a baby.

Your baby.

This little boy in your lap was not so long ago in your stomach.

It was crazy to think about.

Your house felt a little too quiet, usually you were never up without your mate. So, this felt a little strange. 

You looked at your son.

“How am I supposed to feed you?” You said as you lifted him, trying to see if he was hungry or not. He was, you didn’t know how, but you could tell.

You pulled your nightgown down and you didn’t know how, but he was a natural.

You watched as he fed. 

He truly didn’t feel like your son. You looked after so many Yautja babies when you joined their tribe, this felt almost like one of those moments.

Except for the feeding part. Only a mother can feed their child.

And your son was no exception.

While he was born into a very high place in the hunting tribe, he was still your son. 

A highly anticipated member.

Your Mate was the right had of the tribe leader, a high position with lots of responsibilities.

One of which was to bring a son into the world.

Which you just managed to do.

You had a pregnancy which left your body sore and your mate feared the worst, but thankfully, you were able to give birth without any major issues.

And now, here you were, holding him and feeding him.

Your thumb ran down his little cheek, right next to where his mandibles were.

“You are beautiful.” You smiled and the child just kept looking at you.

Once he finished eating you pulled your gown back and pulled him to your chest, laying him down.

Did Yautja babies even burp?

Guess you will find out soon.

He did burp.

A small little burp.

And soon, he was off again.

You got up from the chair and headed back to the bedroom.

You got in, the fire was still going, but now, your mate was up.

He looked at you then at your son in your arms.

“He was hungry.” You said as you put him back into his crib before climbing back on the furs.

You let out a long yawn before getting under the covers. 

Your mate made a sound before laying back down himself. You lay down closer to him as he pulled you closer.

Maybe it was a difficult thing to give birth to a Yautja baby. Maybe it was difficult being married to one as well.

But you loved them both with all of your heart and that was enough, more than enough.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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

[blackynsupremacy]

black girls,

write the content you want.

i’m serious.

idc if you think it’s gonna flop.

idc if you think you’re a terrible writer or artist.

idc if you believe that character/celebrity/athlete/whoever likes black girls or not. (who cares what the fandom says anyway!)

idc if you’re the first and only one to start that _____ x black reader tag.

make the content you want to see!

do it for you most importantly! (you will inspire others ofc)

in conclusion, you won’t get it if you won’t make it.

[nobitchs-world]

Me: I love horror movie slashers

My scary ass if I ever saw them:

[webbluvrsugar]

you asked for requests and you shall recieve my baby!

i’m obsessed with the idea of ethan x popular!bimbo! reader. she’s always dressed to the nines, loves pink, smells so sweet and he’s just so obsessed with her

a/n: omg!!! yesyesyes, Ethan would sooooo freak out with a bimbo r!! and also ty so much, saved my life T-T

Ethan Landry and his pretty bimbo girlfriend!

Ethan never truly understood what he did to deserve you.

Seriously, he just didn't get it.

He was only a nerd, a geek obsessed with horror movies, a mundane overshadowed guy — if you don't count the massive killing he does at night — he's just a normal person, some would even say boring.

And you... you're everything. You're popular, always circled by a big group of friends, always wearing pretty pink little outfits, always wearing large heels that sometimes get you taller than him, and honestly, he doesn't mind it, he stands proudly next to you when you're walking with him, likes it when your hair flies all over his face and he can scent the mix of sweets you put on as perfume today, likes to identify if you're wearing strawberry or passionfruit - but sometimes, he can tell which one by your outfits.

Plus, he's a good boyfriend, he doesn't think he's all that but you always tell him so when honestly he's just doing the bare minimum to keep a girl like you. He holds your hair out of the way when you're eating so it doesn't get stuck in your gloss, he holds your hand when going up the stairs so you don't fall, he makes sure your makeup is removed after you've had too many drinks so you don't complain the next day, and truthfully, he likes this lifestyle.

How couldn't he? He's obsessed with you.

Obsessed with the cheerful smiles, the pink lipstick stains on his neck, the way you laugh, the way you bounce on him and make his eyes roll back like he's the best dick you've ever had, the way you leave rings of lipstick on the base of his cock, the way you kiss him in front of everyone just to make him blush.

But especially, he likes it when you're a brat, when you cry and shout and act pissed at him, just for the pleasure of pinning you on those sheets, pulling your hair and give you what you've been wanting all day.

"If — if you wanted dick, y´could´ve said so," he grinds into you slowly, the same loving way he shows you affection off bed. "No need to be a bitch." he grunts, pace quickening as he shoves your head down on the sheets.

"I'll always give you what you need, hm?"

And sometimes, he even believes he's a good boyfriend.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[sea-lanterns]

JENNIFER'S BODY

synopsis: (slasher! AU) your girlfriend is possessed by a succubus.

featuring: navia

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom character, mentions of a fire, demonic rituals, mentions of blood, reader and character are in an established relationship, mentions of cannibalism, character becomes possessed by a demon, cunni.lingus, ora.l (reader recieving), brea.st worship, sloppy makeouts, monsterfuc.king, long demon tongue, may be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: shigahime

“You excited for the concert tonight?”

Navia giggled and ran her thumb across your bottom lip, giving you a small kiss on the forehead while onlookers seethed in jealousy. As the most popular girl on campus, it was a no-brainer that Navia would be one of the most sought out girls to anyone, yet she was already taken by you; a nerdy girl who had no idea how you got a hot girl like Navia to like you in the first place. 

“Y-Yeah…” you murmured softly, a little nervous at all the people watching you in the library. Navia was just the opposite however, her eyes only focused on your expressions. “Nervous? It’s your first concert after all, but I promise I’ll be right there with you in case some drunkards try to flirt with you.” She leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. 

“Ah— no, I’m not nervous about that. Just…we’re in a public library, Navia.” You felt your face get hot.

“Pfft, it’s just a little kissing. It’s not like I’m eating you out on this table right now for all to see.” She whispered those last few words so only you could hear them, your face growing even hotter at the image. 

“Navia…!” 

“Oh please, I’m sure you got just the slightest bit turned on at that.” She giggled, looping her finger through the collar of your shirt. “Mm…you’re so cute. I could eat you all up.” She finally gave you the kiss she wanted and whispered hotly against your lips. “Wear something cute, ‘kay? I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

“…Okay.” You responded obediently.

“Good girl.” She gently patted your cheek and got up from her seat. “I have to get to class now. See you tonight!”

Your heart fluttered at the smile she gave you as you longed for tonight to come quicker, turning your attention back to your books so you could finish studying. 

Your doorbell rang and you rushed to go answer it, opening the door and being greeted with the sight of your girlfriend leaning against the doorframe. “Heyyy— woah.” Navia’s eyes widened as she let her gaze travel along your body, taking in every curve and contour of your figure. “You look…wow.” 

“I uh, I didn’t really know what to wear, but you said wear something cute, so…”

“You look cute in anything! But right now you look…wow…” Navia giggled and took your hand, giving it a small kiss before bowing. “Well then, shall I escort you to my car, my lady?” 

“Oh…stop it.” you rolled your eyes at her teasing before letting her drag you to her car, a flurry of giggles leaving your lips as you both started to drive to the small concert venue. It didn’t take long for Navia’s car to reach its destination as the venue itself was located in the middle of town. 

“Oooooh I cannot wait! We rarely get artists to visit our town!” Navia exclaims, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Before you could even get out yourself, she hurries over to your side and opens the door for you, smiling brightly like always. 

“…You don’t have to do that.” Yet you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched over your face. Oh how absolutely smitten you were over this woman. 

“Mm, yeah, but I like to treat my girl special.” Navia smiles, offering you her arm to hold onto. “Let’s go, I want some food!” 

As you both entered the small venue, you both got to your seats and waited for the concert to start. While you were a bit nervous being in a crowded room with a bunch of strangers, Navia soothed your worries as she placed a hand on your thigh. “Mm…don’t worry. I’m not drinking tonight so I can keep an eye on you.” She handed you a fry from the basket she ordered, “Eat up, they’re good!” 

You smiled, letting her feed you while the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the performance. As the small indie band came out and roused cheers from the crowd, you and Navia just sat there in your own little bubble, occasionally feeding each other bits of fried food and listening to their songs. 

Though the music was loud and you were a bit overwhelmed by the cheers, you simply leaned your head against Navia’s shoulder and let the sound drown out by enjoying the warmth of your girlfriend. You were quite thankful she brought you out tonight, after all, you were always the introvert and preferred to be holed up in your room alone (with the exception of Navia, of course). So it was always up to your extroverted girlfriend to bring you out of your enclosure. 

“Mm…I love this song.” Navia hummed, gently tapping her fingers to the beat of the music. You felt your body relax too the more you listened to the song, and you soon found yourself nodding along with her before stopping to realize…wait. Was the lead singer staring at Navia? 

Your eyes widened and you stood upright, watching as they kept their eyes locked on your girlfriend. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you or not, but you felt a small pang of jealousy rise in your chest. 

“N-Navia…”

“Hm? What is it, love?”

She immediately turned to face you, easily enraptured by your call for attention and ignoring the concert completely. You admit, you felt a bit proud knowing that she easily gave you her attention even in the presence of her favorite band.

“…Nothing. I just wanted to say I love you.” 

You pushed your insecurities away, taking her hand in yours and going back to watching the band. Although the members casted odd looks to your girlfriend throughout the performance, you simply smothered her in even more attention, even going as far as to sit in her lap to show that she was yours. Navia was quite flattered that you were being so clingy to her. She had no idea why, but she accepted it without any question and pulled you closer to her to kiss you.

The concert continued to play smoothly, until something started to spark on one of the outlets connected to the speakers. It sparked once, twice, before a full on flame engulfed the outlet and spread to the other wires quite easily. The band immediately stopped playing as a scream pierced through the air, smoke filling the room as everyone rushed to evacuate. 

“Oh…Oh my goodness!” Navia quickly broke the kiss and grabbed your hand, trying to keep you with her while the crowds of people rushed to escape all at once. You let out a panicked yelp as your body was pushed and shoved by various bodies, trying to cling to Navia’s hand as you both made your way towards the exit.

“Oof—” you felt a tall guy shove you rather roughly and cause you to lose your grip on Navia. You nearly fell and stumbled to catch you footing, your body quickly being swept away by the anxious crowd. “Navia? Navia!” You called out her name desperately, panic settling in as you had been split up and lost in the sea of people. You felt helpless as your body was carried out by the crowd, trying to keep your head up so you could hopefully locate your girlfriend by her blonde hair. 

“Excuse me. Excuse me!” The fire inside continued to spread, smoke clouding the air and causing you to be physically escorted out by security who was helping everyone evacuate. “Wait! Wait— my girlfriend! I need to find my girlfriend!”

You were carried out like a stray dog, the crisp, night air hitting the back of your neck as the entire building went up in smoke. It was terrifying, not knowing where your girlfriend was amidst all the turmoil, you were forced to wait outside as you watched the building soon burn to a cinder.

“Navia…Navia!” You called out her name and looked amongst the crowds, silently praying that she had made it out unscathed. The firefighters soon arrived and you continued to look around helpless for your lover. Minutes continued to pass, and you were beginning to feel a sinking feeling in your stomach, watching as the building began to break down to pieces. 

“…No. No no no.” You looked around desperately, still sticking around to see if she could find you instead. When the minutes soon turned into an hour however, you realized that Navia wasn’t anywhere.

“…A-Ah.” Your heart sunk completely, your body falling to its knees as you stared at the rundown venue ahead of you. The cries and chaos surrounding you was muffled, as you wondered if you should be grieving with the others as well. “…Fuck.”

As the crowd was ushered away from the burning building for their own safety, you were forced to leave as well, feeling an empty hole in your heart. Something wasn’t right, this can't be real. There’s no way that you were just cuddling with your girlfriend an hour ago and now…there was a chance she wasn’t alive anymore. 

You felt your eyes water as you were forcibly escorted off the premises, the fate of your girlfriend currently unknown to you. 

You had called a friend to pick you up and drive you home. You didn’t really feel like talking to anyone, so you holed yourself up in your home and didn’t even bother turning the lights on. Your body felt heavy, a sense of dread and uncertainty filling you as you stumbled into your kitchen to grab some water. 

“(Hic) Navia…” you sniffled and wiped your tears away, your voice all raw from crying so much on the way home. “Please be okay…” 

Through your puffy eyes, you grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge and choked down a sob, silently wishing that this was all just some sick nightmare and that you’d wake up in Navia’s arms again. Wiping your blurry vision away, you turned around, only to let out a scream when you saw someone standing in front of you.

…Navia?! 

Your eyes widened when you saw your girlfriend standing right there, in the middle of your kitchen with blood all over her face and clothes. She was breathing heavily, her clothes a tattered mess and her usually pristine hair now in disarray. 

“H-Haah…hah…” she was hunched over, clearly exhausted and maybe in pain. You wanted to spew out several questions at the same time. Are you okay? Where are you bleeding from? Do you want me to call an ambulance? Yet none of them came out as you let out a choked sob and immediately ran up to your girlfriend for a hug. “You’re alive—!”

You suddenly found your body held into place as Navia ran towards you at a speed you had no idea a human was capable of. Her body grabbed onto yours and pinned you roughly against the wall, your back making a loud thud against the surface and making you yelp in pain.

“Nnnh—!”

The “Navia” you once knew didn’t even ask you if you were okay once she heard the sound. Instead, you watched in complete and utter fear as the Navia in front of you opened her mouth and revealed several rows of razor sharp teeth, her smile seemingly growing wider than usual as her pupils dilated into slits.

“…Navia?” Your voice was barely a whisper, fear locking your joints into place as you looked up at your girlfriend’s new…demonic appearance. “A-Are you…okay?”

Navia continued to breathe heavily in front of you, almost like she was gasping for air before looking down to narrow her eyes at you. Her long, serpentine-like tongue (was her tongue always that long?) slithered out to lick at her lips as she stared at you like you were her next meal. 

“…I’m sorry. I waited for you as long as I could but the police made me leave.” Your words came out all shaky and pathetic, tears blotting your lashes as you looked up at your girlfriend. “I-I’m just glad you’re okay now…I could actually die happy if that’s what you want!”

Despite how scared and confused you were, you couldn’t help but hug your girlfriend even in this monstrous form. You were feeling all sorts of things. Fear, nervousness, panic, but amidst all those emotions, you could only feel relief once you physically felt Navia’s body. 

Navia let out an uncharacteristic growl and looked down at you, confused and unsure of what to do. The demon inside her wanted to eat, to feed. But when she leaned down to grab your neck in her toothy maw, she stopped when she felt you flinch. 

“Mmmh!” That little whimper you let out should not be as cute as it sounded. Navia hesitated with her urge to devour you, her lips parted slightly as the tips of her teeth traced the pulse point of your neck. 

“…Are you scared?” Navia’s familiar voice came, tickling your nerves with her hot breath.

“…No.” you whispered back, knowing full well that you were most likely going to die, but didn’t mind as you were just relieved your girlfriend was here. 

Navia paused in her act to bite you, her long tongue sliding out to press against your pulse point instead. She closed her mouth a little, pulling her teeth away and instead brushing her soft lips against your jugular, almost like she was giving you neck kisses like she did back when she was a human. 

“…Even now, you’re such a good girl.” Navia purred, her breath coming in hot as she pushed you deeper against the wall. “God…I can’t even bite you. I just can’t.” 

She took in a deep breath, pressing her nose against your neck and inhaling your scent. She let out a soft moan at how delectable you smelled, but no matter how sweet you seemed to her, Navia couldn’t let the demon inside her feast upon you like the others. “You smell so good…” 

She let out a breathy whine and looked deep into your eyes, her once slit-like pupils now softening into her regular round ones. Despite the smell of blood on her, and the fact that she almost tried to eat you upon reuniting with you, you couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again.

“What happened, Navia. Why are you covered in blood?” You asked breathlessly, referring to her new…form. 

“…Well, after we got split up in the fire, I was kidnapped by the band amidst the panicked crowd. They threw me in their van and tied me down, said something about using me as a sacrifice to the devil?”

Your eyes widened at this new revelation. So that’s why the lead singer was eying your girlfriend throughout the performance. That sounded extremely absurd and you would’ve had a hard time believing it, if not for your girlfriend literally standing right in front of you with new demonic features. 

“What? Were you okay? Did it hurt?” 

“Er…quite a bit. But the sacrifice went wrong somehow. Apparently they needed a virgin sacrifice in order for it to be successful. But…you know.” She smiled softly and looked down at you, “Since we’ve slept with each other dozens of times before, I’m not a virgin.” 

“So…you became a demon?” You blinked in disbelief, watching as she ran her fingers across your inner thigh in hunger, her hand squeezing your flesh rather possessively. “Not exactly. I became…possessed by a demon. A succubus, to be precise.” 

Well, that made much more sense, considering that Navia was talking to you so sweetly despite trying to hurt you prior. 

“…How did you escape?” You asked quietly, a looming rise of concern now rising in your mind. 

“…Please don’t be mad,” Navia whispered, holding your hands tightly and looking down at you with worry in her eyes. “…I couldn’t hold in the burning hunger once the demon was inside my body. So I…I…”

“I ate them, love.” Navia finished, her voice trembling and looking down in shame, the presence of blood all over her face now explained by the second part of her story. You were shocked to say the least, upon finding out that she ate the members of the band that tried to sacrifice her and thus making her guilty of cannibalism. Was it even considered cannibalism at this point? You weren’t even sure anymore. 

“…I won’t tell.” You said firmly, still hugging your girlfriend. “I promise.” 

Though you were the slightest bit afraid, no ounce of fear could stop you from hating your girlfriend. Navia’s breath hitched as you immediately accepted her situation, a primal feeling of love and lust building up in her body. 

“Oh you sweet girl…” Navia cooed, pulling you tighter against her frame as the same feeling of hunger pooled at her stomach. Except it wasn’t a desire for flesh that she craved for, it was the desire to have you splayed beneath her and lost in the throes of passion. A different kind of hunger that involved the screams of pleasure rather than pain. 

“I feel hungry again…” Navia groaned, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, her eyes going half lidded with lust. 

“Oh! Uh…I have some meat in the fridge if you want. I can even cook it for you—”

“No. I don’t want food.” Navia murmured, panting as the demon in her craved to have your sweet soul devoured by her. “I only want you.” 

Before you could ask if she wanted to eat you physically, Navia suddenly grabbed your chin and leaned in for a tongue-filled kiss. Your muffled yelp was music to her ears, and she let out a possessive growl at having the taste of your tongue in her mouth. 

‘So sweet…’ Navia’s inner thoughts purred, getting lost in the taste of you as your very essence satisfied her hunger for human. She pulled away for a brief moment taking in that cute, dazed expression on your face as you tried to catch your breath. ‘How pathetic.’ The demon whispered inside Navia’s head. ‘…Kiss her again.’

And so, Navia obliged, pulling you in for another kiss. Then another, then another. Until your lips were all puffy and sensitive, small whimpers leaving your lips as Navia snaked her arms under your thighs and lifted you up like you were nothing.

“Oh—!” You yelped when she scooped you up. Navia had always been a strong lady, but it seems that with the addition of having a demon inside her, she was able to lift you up like paper. “Where are we going…”

“To the bed. I’d rather you lay on something soft while I devour you.” She said bluntly, rushing to the bedroom so quick it made you cling to her like a baby koala. Bursting your bedroom door open, Navia nearly tore it off its hinges as she strutted over to the bed and laid you down. She quickly crawled over on top of you, her shorts rubbing sensually over your own as she grinded her hips and growled at the sight of you beneath her. “Nnnh…wow. Have you always been this hot? I mean— you always were, but…goodness.” 

Navia bit her bottom lip, her demonic features returning as her pupils thinned into slits once more. Her smile stretched deviously over her face, that gentle smile now replaced with the most monstrous smirk you ever laid your eyes upon, and you had to admit; it was pretty sexy on your girlfriend.

“…Did you just get wet?” Navia giggled, looking down at you as she raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah…well.” You felt your cheeks heat up when she caught you getting turned on at her appearance.

“…Oh my goodness. You are a little freak, aren’t you?” Navia couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping her throat, leaning down to brush her lips against yours. “Well, that just means you’re the perfect girl for me, hm?” 

The air grew so much hotter between you, your eyes locked onto Navia’s blue ones as she stared down at you like the most delectable meal. She purred and slid her tongue out to lick at your pretty lips, moving back down for another sensual kiss while her hands free roamed over the expanse of your skin. Hungry that she was, Navia trailed her fingers down to the edge of your shirt and slowly pushed it upwards, adoring the feel of your warm stomach underneath. 

‘More…I need more…’ the demon inside Navia echoed, her hands feeling up your tummy and molding it under her palms. The softness of your skin was driving Navia crazy, and a low growl escaped her throat the more she drove her hands higher and higher. 

She parted her lips from you and slid her hands up to feel your breasts through your bra, a sly smile stretching over her lips as your breath hitched at the contact. “Oh…yeah, you can take them off.” 

“I appreciate you telling me now. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Navia grabbed your shirt under her nails and tore it off you with ease, causing you to whimper at the cold air hitting your chest. Navia wasn’t done, however; as she grabbed your bra and didn’t bother trying to unhook it. Instead, she tore it off just as easily as she did with your shirt, freeing your breasts out in the open air. 

‘Fuck.’ Navia mentally cursed, an overwhelming cloud of desire pooling at her core. She licked her lips once more and hungrily leaned down to take a nipple in her mouth, reveling in how you pathetically squirmed underneath her like a rabbit pinned at the throat. “Hold still…” Navia grumbled, latching onto your right breast while feeling up the other, suckling and licking over the tip until sensitivity crashed over you. 

“Navia…” you moaned out, your hands making their way to her hair and tangling in her blonde locks. She continued to grind her hips against your own, clearly getting more turned on every time you called her name. “Again.” She huffed, licking over the sensitive nipple before switching to the other one.

Navia’s set of teeth grazed intimidatingly over the sensitive bud, a prominent reminder of how vulnerable you were in the mouth of the demon. However, her tongue and lips were all you could feel on your chest, as Navia took great care to be as gentle with you as she could. “You taste so good here.” Navia murmured, her face muffled as she smushed her face deeper against your tits. She held you down in a dominating grip, the hunger only growing more intense as she tasted the succulent flesh. “I need to taste more. You know exactly how to please me, yeah baby?”

You nodded in the midst of your cries, gasping for air before trying to shimmy out of your shorts. Navia was quick to notice, and she only smiled before sitting up and pulling up her shirt. Your jaw nearly dropped at the sight, as though you’ve seen Navia naked plenty of times before, you were so aroused that you nearly moaned at the sight. 

“Close your mouth, you’ll attract flies.” Navia hummed, taking pleasure in your shock before pushing your mouth up to close it. “Notice anything different?” 

“Ah…” honestly, you were too stunned to really see the difference, your body desiring your girlfriend the same as always. Navia chuckled and playfully squished your cheeks together with her hand. “Nothing’s different body-wise. But I’m glad you still seem to crave me all the same.” 

She clawed her own bra off and you felt your pussy throb at the sight. Navia’s breasts were always soft and on the bigger side, and you felt a strong urge to take those pretty pink nipples in your mouth and suck her off.

Before you could sit up and take a tit in your mouth, Navia growled and pushed you back down. 

“Not yet. I want to taste your cunt first.” 

That strike of dominance was somehow not like Navia, but like her at the same. She was getting a lot more bold with her wants, pinning you back down and letting you feel her breasts against your own. Oh how soft they were, you wanted to whine and beg for her to let you please her but she was content on pleasing you first. 

“Come on, stop whining. I’ll let you please me soon, but right now…” she licked a stripe down your neck and down the valley of your breasts. “I need to eat.”

She continued to trace her tongue down your body. From the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, the sensation of her new demonic-like tongue made your clit throb with impending need. You couldn’t wait to have her in between your legs, eating you out as ravenously as she did to those band members, but in a less gory way and more of a horny way. 

Navia dragged her tongue lower and lower, growling once she reached the hem of your shorts and not even bothering to claw them off with her fingers. Instead, she bit down on the elastic hem and pulled them off with her teeth alone, tearing the fabric easily like tissue off the bone, and looking more like a rabid animal than human. 

…You’re pretty sure you’re dripping like a waterfall by now. 

Your chest heaved with every breath as you watched Navia tear your shorts and underwear to shreds, groaning and spitting out pieces of fabric as she was too desperate to open them the old-fashioned way. “You smell so good…” she purred again, almost salivating at the sight of your pussy bare before her. “Fuck—”

Not even a moment later and she dove in to lap her tongue against your folds, practically moaning the moment her tongue made contact with your clit. Your back arched up off the bed, the sudden sensation of Navia ravenously eating you out too good for you to handle. “Holy shit— Navia…!” you didn’t know how to handle the overwhelming waves of her tongue-fucking you, so you grasped onto her blonde locks once more for stability. “S-Slow down. I’m not going anywhere!” 

Navia didn’t even comprehend what you were saying, her instincts driving her wild as she speared you open on her tongue repeatedly, her strong hands keeping your legs wide open while she went to town on the taste of your essence. 

You couldn’t believe that the usually sweet and gentle Navia was so messily eating you out like it was her last meal. Her cheeks smeared in your slickness as she rammed her impossibly long tongue in and out of your hole. With each thrust and flick of her tongue, her teeth would occasionally brush against your over sensitive clit that was now puffy and raw, faintly reminding you of who you were sleeping with. But at this moment you didn’t care anymore. 

“Navia…deeper…” you whined, making her growl possessively and push her tongue deeper into your walls. The sound seemed to make you even wetter —perhaps you were a monsterfucker at this point?— and Navia seemed to pick up on that as she continued to showcase more of her demonic side. 

She gently nipped your clit with her toothy maw, reveling in the sight of you flinching in her grasp. The demon inside her seemed to take great pleasure in seeing you writhe, so Navia made a point to do it again every so often. With each lick, each needy whine and taste from your sopping wet cunt, Navia felt her hunger slowly become satisfied, a low purr leaving her throat as she waited for her dessert to come. 

“You’re close, I can taste it.” she murmured against your folds, kissing your clit and pushing her tongue more aggressively against your sweet spot. “Come for me baby, please come. I need you to come for me please.” 

Navia was getting desperate, cooing against your opening before inching you closer to release. Her tongue was so hot and pulsing, rubbing fiercely against all the deepest spots it could reach before you felt the heat inside you finally spill over. 

With a final thrust, Navia let out her own moan at the feeling of your cum gushing into her mouth. She eagerly swallowed up every last drop, the lewdest of slurping noises filling your bedroom as Navia began to overstimulate you due to her need to taste everything. 

“Oh my god…” you whined, throwing your head back as Navia made it her mission to not miss a single drop. This woman was determined to lick up anything that spilled down your thighs, even going as far as to lick up a few drops that landed on your sheets. “Mmm…you taste so good,” Navia purred, now drunk on your cum as she crawled upwards to kiss you, letting you taste your orgasm in her mouth. “Way, way better than any of those band members’ flesh. I could satisfy my hunger just by fucking you everyday.” 

Your heart beat faster at that, causing Navia to sense it and giggle at your shyness. “Oh baby, I just tongue-fucked you like crazy and that is what causes your adrenaline to spike?”

She laughed and kissed your cheek. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought your girlfriend was just a regular, sweet human after sleeping with her. But that wasn’t the case, as the woman lying by your side was now possessed by a demon who had just killed and eaten several other people. 

…Well, whatever. They had it coming for them anyways. 

You let out a sigh and turned over to gaze upon your beautiful girlfriend, not caring about her bloodied clothes, her sharp teeth, or that ridiculously long tongue that felt like heaven inside you. Right now, all you saw was your lover alive and well, maybe with a few changes to her body, but overall she was still the Navia you loved. 

“…I love you.” You repeated to her, causing Navia to blush at your admission. 

“…I love you too, baby. I really am fortunate to have you with me even through all of this.” 

She leaned in and kissed you once more, before pulling you in to cuddle tightly against her body. 

[6lostgirl6]

A Night To Dismember

Pairing: Michael Myers x Fem!Reader

TW: Detailed Gore, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Sexual Assault [Not by Michael], Slightly Possessive Michael, Protective Michael, Mature Audience only!

A/N: Requested by my bestie @prettywhenibleed! I really hope you enjoy this and it was an absolute pleasure to write this for you!! Love you, my favorite slasher whore! ❤️ This isn't my best work, I'm afraid, forgive me.

The Smith's Grove Sanitarium operated according to a schedule that was consistently set in motion without interruption. No authorized doctor employed by the sanitarium, however, would have foreseen this. Medical specialists thought they were completely familiar with Michael Myers' behavior. He was docile and kept to himself, despite being the most dangerous and threatening patient in the hospital. 

But if you left him alone, there was a chance he would treat you in a similar fashion. The sole exception would be if touching his masks or otherwise bothered him. Even being among other patients was something he never enjoyed.

You were a new patient, recently exiled from society and your family because of your dreadful infatuation with fire and burning objects of interest. Your arrival left the building in absolute shock. On your first day, you were assigned to the recreation room. When you entered the room, your initial instinct was to walk over to the largest and most dangerous man within the sanatorium while grinning brightly. You only watched him work on a paper mache mask while standing over his hunched figure in the corner of the room, his hospital-approved supplies scattered along the table. 

You thought the colors were stunning, which you happily expressed. 

As a precaution against Michael harming you, guards stood by the recreation room's entrance wielding batons. Michael, on the other hand, did the exact opposite, giving you a cursory glance before grunting and slackly pointing for you to sit next to him. 

It was like you and Michael had your own timetable inside the sanitarium, and this went on for the next few months without fail. As directed by his psychiatrist, Michael was permitted to create his masks in the recreation area in the mornings. You would follow not far behind and take your normal seat beside him at a table chosen at random, apart from the other patients. You would merely watch him create his masks and ramble about whatever was on your mind. Michael never responded to the conversation, but that didn't stop you from talking to him because he had his own style of doing so without words. You have grown accustomed to deciphering his thoughts from his basic grunts and gestures.

"Hey, Mikey." You said with a smile, taking a seat at your usual spot next to Michael's side, placing your tray of food onto the table.

Michael was in the middle of placing wet paper mache on the face mold for his mask, his fingers caked in colors of paint and residue from the paper mache. He paused for a moment, giving you a small grunt as acknowledgement before returning to his activity.

You smiled more, chuckling at his usual ways of communicating as you watched him craft. You've always been interested in his masks and the variety of patterns he would use for each one. Many of his masks had their own unique qualities. However, you knew to only look, not touch.

"I see you're adding bright colors this time; are those happy pills finally working?" You teased him, nudging him softly with your body.

Michael huffed through his nose, which you learned was his way of chuckling as he shook his head at you. In the past, It took a while, but you had a better understanding of Michael's gestures and emotions than the doctors.

Simply because you treated him like a person, not an experiment.

"Maybe next time then." You replied, turning towards your tray before glancing at his project once more. "You're really good at that, Mikey. You're really talented."

Once again, Michael paused his movements, his stained fingers holding the paper mache while his eyes remained downcast. His fingers twitched before he resumed, and you almost thought you said something wrong.

"I didn't mean-"

You were cut off as Michael grabbed another mold from the table, pushing it in your direction. Your eyes widened slightly as you pushed your tray out of the way as Michael's slow movements brought other materials in your direction.

Still in slight awe, you watched him turn towards you, and your eyes connected through his favorite orange mask. You couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat at the way his eyes stared into your own, seemingly piercing into your own soul.

The doctors were wrong; his eyes weren't soulless, nor were they black, resembling a massive void of nothingness. They were blue, similar to a clear sky or the glimmering waves of the ocean.

He huffed before pointing a finger at the materials and then towards you. He wanted you to mold with him.

"Thank you, Mikey." You said softly, a bright smile on your face.

When your eyes met Michael's, he was unable to comprehend the sensation in his chest. Usually, when his sight fell on their figures, individuals would tremble or turn away. He wasn't concerned by their fear of the facility's most dangerous patient. He actually benefited from the fear he instilled in the hearts of many who came to the sanitarium.

Yet you didn't...and he liked that.

He liked that you weren't scared of him, speaking to him, or even touching him like you've been these past few months. The thought of you being scared of him made him feel...hollow.

When you started working on your own mask using the materials that were laid out on the table, Michael couldn't help but covertly place a palm on his chest to feel how his heart was refusing to settle down. He almost wanted to groan in annoyance, hating the way he liked being around you and having your attention.

He had been content with his solitude for a long time, He preferred being alone and had been for many years. However, the notion of you leaving him made the murderous itch inside him threaten to resurface.

He decided that he would keep you with him, protect you with everything he has, and extinguish anyone who threatened to ruin that. With darkened eyes, he returned to working on his mask.

On that day, you and Michael became closer.

You weren't born yesterday and you certainly weren't born stupid. Trouble was afoot in the institution and it was either happening under the doctors' noses or they simply didn't care enough to investigate. Over the past week, you would hear feminine screams down the hallway in the women's section of the institution during the late hours of the night. Last night, the screams could be heard two doors down from your room.

The screams and cries began when a new guard was appointed to the institution, supposedly replacing a well-known guard who was at the age of retirement. Due to your paranoia, you would sit on the edge of your bed, watching the door in the chance of someone entering your room when they weren't supposed to.

During the days, you would spend all you could with Michael, hoping that your association with him would make you seem off limits to mess with, or you hoped. Yet, Michael couldn't protect you when the sun went down and the men and women would return to their respective cells on opposite sides of the institution.

Tonight, you were following the same routine, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching the door. Your mind was in shambles, trying to come up with a plan in that chance, that horrid chance of the new guard coming for you. You hoped it wasn't what you were thinking, and for once, you prayed.

God never heard your prayers, and he certainly didn't now, especially when the jingling of keys were heading down the hallway, towards your room.

Michael couldn't sleep and when he couldn't sleep, he would simply pass the time by creating more masks or painting designs onto them. He was sitting at his desk, the surface covered in paper mache, markers, paint, and crayons. He was in the middle of adding a touch of red when he heard the distant sound of screaming.

His annoyance was disguised under his mask as he sighed and tightened his grip on the crayon in his hand to the point that it almost broke in half. He puffed again at the commotion and went on, indifferent to the screams. Perhaps a patient was making a scene during the nightly check-ins.

In order to block out the noises, Michael withdrew within the walls of his mind. It was a way that allowed Michael to escape freely from the confinement of his cell. He would always imagine a life outside the institution, with you. He would imagine the way he would protect you and provide for you. The thought used to sicken himn, but now he enjoyed it, the possibility. The sound of keys jingling, seemingly opening his cage, caused him to pause, though. With a loud crash, the cell door swung open, and shouting could now be heard outside of his room.

"Want some, freak?" The guard asked him in an mocking manner while Michael remained at his desk, his back to the guard. Michael immediately understood what the guard was pulling when he heard the feminine screams and intended to ignore it. 

He continued to ignore his surroundings, ignoring the rage building within his chest. The sound of his bed creaking didn't deter him from continuing on with his activity. However, it all changed when the victim screamed one word.

"Michael!"

You.

Your trapped figure on his bed, with your nightgown pushed up so that only your thighs were visible, caught Michael's attention as his head whirled around. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, which streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed and struggled. His eyes quickly shifted to the guard hovering over you, and he developed tunnel vision instinctively.

A ferocious roar erupts from Michael's mouth and takes hold of the guard by the neck and collar of his shirt, throwing him off balance. In the midst, you shakily brought yourself to a sitting position, fixing the bottom of your nightgown to cover yourself. Your eyes watched as Michael picked up the guard, pinning him to the wall with eerie silence. The man in his grasp was yelling in pain and fear as Michael kept him pinned, his legs dangling in the air.

"L-Let go! Let go, you fucking punk!" The guard cried out.

Michael did not like that, not at all. Without a second thought, Michael hurled him into his desk, his art supplies falling to the ground in a cluster of clangs while the man groaned in pain. Like a predator stalking his prey, Michael's towering form stalked over to the smaller male, his eyes black as night and void of any life or mercy within. His large hand reached out to grab the same red colored pencil,

Michael's next action seemed to be a blur, he body launching onto the guard and stabbing him with the colored pencil, his resiliant strength making the pencil tear through flesh and muscle.

You watched in a sickening twist of fascination and awe, watching as Michael stabbed the guard over and over, leaving no body part untouched, the man;s screams filling the room. Your heart felt warm, knowing that Michael was willing enough to kill someone for you.

Lastly, Michael stabbed him until his chest, stomach, and face was shrouded in punctures, cuts, and wounds. With one last jab, the colored pencil stabbed into his neck, making the man gurgle on his own blood.

"Michael..." You whispered, your eyes taking in his bloodied form as he slowly turned to you, heaving himself up and moving towards you. It was as if he was a trained dog hoping he made his master proud. However, you were nothing of the sort. When he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself into his strong form. "Thank you..."

Michael gave a small huff, hesitantly touching your head with his bloody palm, staining your strands with the bodily fluid. Without another word, Michael pushed you away and grabbed your hand, pulling you off the bed and heading towards the door.

"Where we are going?" You asked in confusion, following behind the behemoth of a man down the stark white hallway.

In response, Michael tugged on your hand and you decided to go along with whatever he had in his mind. He saved you after all; even when he didn't have to, he did. It made you feel safe and protected in his presence.

"Alright, Alright." You muttered, your figures turning a corner and out of sight.

Red and white.

Those were the colors you would never forget. The way the walls were coated in blood and bodily fluids of various nurses and guards that laid along the floor in mangled messes.

Michael was strong, very strong. You remembered the way he smashed a guard's skull in with his fingers alone. You shuddered at the thought, crossing your arms and staring at the wall in front of you as you waited for Michael to finish off his last victim. A nurse arriving at the right place at the wrong time as Michael ambushed her, his hands around her throat as he strangled her.

Michael walked over to you, his muffled huffing practically hovering over your ear as he showed you shoes and coat. You stared at the items with a blank expression, wondering what he wanted you to do with these.

He huffed before shaking the items in his hands, motioning the items towards you. You sighed before taking the items with a small smile, throwing on the shoes and coat. You felt the warmth of the fabric soothe your cold figure.

"Thank you..." You muttered softly, looking up at him as he stared down at you.

He couldn't help but think you looked...cute.

He offered you his bloodied hand, which you instantly took and followed him to the exit. You both were finally going to be free and it was all thanks to him.

After a few hours of walking, your feet were beginning to ache and the adrenaline from earlier was wearing off.

After your fifth yawn, Michael stopped in his tracks, turning towards you in the middle of the field. He simply stared at you as you bent forward to rest your hands on your knees.

Michael, I need to rest for a moment. Please my-" Your words were cut off when Michael stormed over to you, grabbing you roughly around the hips, hoisting you into his arms. His arm went around your waist, while the other held your back in a bridal style fashion.

Your eyes widened from his sudden roughness, however you couldn't complain as you basked in his warmth, nuzzling your face in the bloodied fabric of his robe.

"Thank you." You said, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to finally relax for the first time tonight. You didn't notice the way Michael was staring at you in his arms, his darkened eyes filled with something unknown, dangerous...maybe even a little bit of caring.

Silently, he turned and resumed walking through the field, making sure to keep you safe as you began to doze in his arms.

Finally, you were his.

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Tagging: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @ghoulgeousimmaculate @britany1997 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bluecoolr @the-pinstriped-hood @flower-crowned-lady @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @azzy-ozborn @strrvnge @repostingmyfavs

[billsvip]

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN FIND A SOUNDGASM THAT SOUNDS LIKE CHRISTIAN BALE/PATRICK BATEMAN. I'm desperate.

[tacticalprincess]

Literally pleading for some slasher!könig ideas/headcanons. Like him hunting you through the woods, setting traps that won’t hurt or kill you but will absolutely hold you long enough for him to find you…

he gets off on watching you run, finds it cute that you think you stand any chance against him. he’s confident that you won’t get far because he knows this forest like the back of his hand, and you’re not exactly dressed for a hike. of course he killed off your shitty boyfriend and overbearing friends; he’d been watching you for so long, how else was he supposed to get your attention? he wanted to draw this out as long as possible without anymore interruption, take his time with you after fantasizing about it for so long. he knew you’d be the funnest to play with.

the sound of his heavy boots crunching against the grass and twigs taunt you, running for your life while he follows eerily calmly, fear and adrenaline pumping throughout your body. you’re too busy looking back, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the dark, to notice the thin wire tied between two trees, making you trip forward and plummet into the dirt. its adorable how clumsy you are, perfect for him in every way. tears paint your cheeks while you try to lift yourself up on shaky, sore legs, but not before könig can catch up to you. tall, broad figure looming over you, head tilted condescendingly at the position you’ve found yourself in — on your hands and knees, your skirt lifted to expose your panties, the curve of your ass. he’s never seen a sight so pretty.

he’ll squat down wordlessly, eyes boring into you through his mask, making you feel naked and exposed. runs the cold, sharp edge of his sharp knife along the supple skin of your thighs, threatening to pierce the smooth flesh and finally satiate his need to see how you look on the inside. you’re horrified at the way your cunt pulses and throbs at the feeling, body betraying you at the worst time. you’re too scared to do anything but stay still while your heart thumps against your chest in fear of what he’ll do to you.

you don’t put up much of a fight, häschen. he even gave you a head start! but that’s okay, one more chance won’t hurt — although it may be a little hard to run with soaked panties.

[frudoo]

How would slasher! 141 react to a reader who isn’t a fan of violence but goes absolutely HAM when one of the victims escapes and injured her boyfriends? (I know the guys are good at what they do but let’s just pretend lol)

maybe she’s dirty from doing chores outside and the victim assumes that she’s an escapee as well, says something about ‘stabbing that fucker with his own knife’ and she just sees red because this piece of shit hurt her boys and she CANNOT let that stand.

Without even thinking, she starts absolutely wailing on this person, punching, kicking, etc. She's got blood on her clothes and shes breathing heavily when the boys finally make their way outside.

how would they react? 😳

This AU has me tweakin I swear

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Explicit gore. Emetophobia.

You gently pick up the little rabbit and giggle, pressing a kiss to its fur before sending it off somewhere else that isn’t your vegetable garden. The pesky things have been terrorizing your poor crops, and while it’s a nuisance, you just can’t stay mad at the little fellas, let alone ask your boys to get rid of the problem. There’s a rustling in the bush next to you and you suspect it’s another bunny looking for a tasty meal, but before you can go investigate, a loud scream coming from the barn startles you.

     Typically, you’re able to drown out the sounds of your husbands’ victims—it freaks you out to hear a person in so much pain, no matter how badly they deserve it. But this is not a victim’s scream. You know that scream. It’s the same one you hear any time he stubs his toe or gets a cramp in bed. That’s Simon’s scream. Immediately you’re on alert, standing from your knees and starting towards the barn.

     Instead of seeing your husband rush out, seeking medical aid or some kind of comfort, a random man covered in dirt and blood comes stumbling outside, looking terrified. You recognize him as the guy Simon, the big, unbreakable brick wall of a man, had even said wasn’t an easy one to catch. When the man sees you also covered in muck, he laughs like he’s just won the lottery, relieved. He rushes up to you, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you towards the fields, no doubt to look for some kind of escape. 

     “C’mon, we- we gotta get outta here. Now! We have time- fuck, lady, come on! I stabbed that fucker with his own knife, so we have time,” he rambles, digging his filthy nails into your skin to get a better grip.

     His words seem to make your heart stop beating in your chest. So that’s why Simon was screaming in pain. Your Simon, your sweet baby, one of your protectors, hurt by an inferior piece of meat. A special brand of scum. You’re scratching at his face before you even realize it. 

     “Wha- bitch! Stop! I’m trying to save you, lady!” Any other time, you’re sure a man like him could have easily overpowered you, but you feel fucking invincible right now, kicking the backs of his knees until he falls.

     You pounce on his back and trap him on the ground, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back just to smash it into the dirt. He’s screaming in agony and you’re sure his nose is broken, but you can’t stop. He hurt one of your boys, and if you know anything about the pieces of shit your husbands get rid of, you’re positive nobody is going to miss the one struggling beneath your weight. You bash his head into the ground over and over—his nose is completely crushed and his teeth are busted, but you just keep going and going and going until your arms are finally tired and you’re heaving with effort.

     When you climb off of him, you see just how much blood has tainted the grass, and you feel nauseous. The man is no longer screaming, not even grunting or moaning, and you know you’ve killed him. You roll him over just to make sure, and the sight of his mangled face makes you lean forward to vomit. You end up tripping over one of his untied shoelaces and falling right on top of his body. Sobbing, you scramble away, screaming when your back hits something solid.

     “Hey, hey, it’s just me, darlin’. Just me,” John coos, helping you up and pulling you into a tight hug.

     “I-I di- I didn’t mean to,” you weep, blood and bile still sour on your tongue. “H-he… he stabbed Simon, and- and I-”

     “Okay, sweetheart, it’s fine. I’ve got you now, yeah? Deep breaths, baby, breathe with me,” John instructs, cupping your sticky cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him.

     Distantly, you see Johnny rushing towards the barn and Kyle dragging the man’s body out of sight, but John makes you focus on him. Only once you’re calm, sniffling instead of hyperventilating, does he explain what’s going on. 

     “Kyle’s cleanin’, and Johnny’s gettin’ Simon all patched up. He’s gonna be okay, baby. You were so brave for us, sweet girl. Do you hear me? I'm so proud of you. We all are.” 

     You nod, but you need to see Simon, make sure that he’s really okay. Make sure your efforts weren’t in vain, that the blood on your hands wasn’t shed pointlessly.

     “I wanna see him,” you hiccup, and John nods, turning you around so you can watch as Johnny helps him walk out of the barn.

     You let out a sob of relief, rushing towards the pair and wrapping your arms around Simon, who grunts in pain. You gasp and move to pull away, but Simon just holds you tighter, letting you take as much comfort as you need from him.

     “I love you,” you murmur, and he smiles.

     “I love you more, perfect girl.”

[gothic-thoughts]

Scariest Promotion Ever

(im tired of hiding my love for him yall, Im coming out as a slasher lover)

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Fluff

MeetCute(?), Nurse!Reader, AsylumPatient!Michael

Part 2: Here

CW: Your first time meeting Michael and his threatening ass aura in person, hair pulling, fear, crying

Word Count: 1489 (give or take)

The guards opened the door and moved aside for me to enter but I was frozen. They looked at me expectantly, but all I could do was clutch my clipboard to my chest and tremble as my eyes search the dark room for the patient I was supposed to be watching. I look back at the guards, voice shaking. 

“W-why did the last nurse quit again...?”

The guards look at each other a little worried then back at me.

“Quit?” One asked.

“They... told me she quit.”

“Uh, sure... Technically she did "quit" the job... forever...”

“...What...?”

“He, uh...” The other guard joined in, “He didn't like her I guess.”

“They usually last a whole lot longer than she did. She was so scared of him that she barely spoke to him and...”

I gulp thickly, “And...?”

“He strangled her... before he removed her face...”

I gasp, turning to look back into the dimness of Michael’s room, the only light being the gloomy sunlight seeping through the barred window on the other side of the area. My breath catches in my throat and my stomach burns and bubbles with fear. The guards assured me that the door would stay open now when nurses visit him specifically because of the incident, hoping that I'd calm down.

But of course, my only thought was to make sure I talked to him.

I hesitantly step over the threshold of his doorway with the 2 guards remaining just outside to monitor me— or rather, monitor Michael Myers, making sure he doesn't kill me or at the very least become violent. His room is cold, dark, and... full of masks. I examine the few that I could see with the sun pouring in through the window before scanning the dark side of the room until my eyes lay on the eerily still figure sitting on the bed against the opposite wall. I gulp softly, swallowing my vomit at the stomach-tightening realization that he was most likely watching me since the door opened.

“Uh... H-hi Michael...”

No words. I couldn’t even see him blink because of that orange papier-mâché mask he was wearing. The only way I knew he was even alive was the slow rise and fall of his broad chest. His masked face never moved or turned, it stayed focused on me— analyzing me— before his head slightly tilted to the right. After a few more seconds of deafening silence, Michael slowly stands up, making my eyes drift upwards to watch him essentially grow until he’s standing at 6’9” making me realize another thing my boss left out about him— his fucking height.

“Wow... Um, I-I'm your n-new nurse... I'm just here to watch you and... a-and...”

When he begins to walk it scares a sharp gasp out of me, which he didn’t even acknowledge. His steps are heavy and threateningly slow so I back away at the same pace, hoping to somehow get to the door before he could hurt me. That’s when I heard the door slam with a small, muffled apology thrown my way; something about not wanting him to get out.

I shake, forcing myself to calm down enough until I feel the door against my back. Michael continues to get closer, towering over me as he is practically trapping me against the door, and he still hasn’t said a word. I flinch away, shut my eyes, and hold my clipboard in front of my face as some wack form of protection for it only for it to be ripped from my hands and tossed across the room with a clatter.

I yelp, tears brimming my eyes as I reach back and paw at the door, looking for the handle but Michael’s head tilts, an indication that he caught on before he swiftly grabs my wrist with one of his huge hands causing a terrified shriek to leave my lips. The guards bang on the door and call his name, trying to get his attention.

“Michael!” One called, "Michael stop!"

“Michael, get away from the door and leave her alone!”

“She’s just here to help you!”

“You gotta give her a chance!”

He still hasn’t spoken, just remained eerily still as he looked down at my tear-streaked face. After a few seconds, his free hand grabs the couple of box braids in front of my face tightly, fingers slowly rubbing up and down the duo-colored strands. I wince at the slight pain and shock before I look up at him with pleading eyes and hushed whimpers. He slowly lifts the braids higher to his face before letting them slip through his fingers to fall back to my chest. He firmly grabs them and lifts them again, the tautness in my scalp causing me to move closer to him in hopes of relieving it. I sniffle, watching him with confusion.

“Y-you like them..?”

No words— I don’t even think he heard me, but he keeps threading the thin, silky strands through his thick fingers. He suddenly yanks them to bring them closer.

“Agh!” I swat his hand away with my free hand, “That hurts!”

His hand suddenly stops moving and I begin crying again, trying to step back as my brain swirls with regret as I realize what I did. He suddenly encloses the 4 braids in a giant fist and tightens his hand on my wrist as I start to sob softly.

“No no no no no, okay... I'm sorry, okay?” I whimper, gasping for air, “I'm sorry, I’m so sorry... It was just instinct 'cause it hurt... y-you have to be gentle if you like them...”

He grunts under his mask then opens his fist, letting my braids drape over his index finger as he strokes it gently with his thumb. My eyes widen slightly; he actually listened.

“Y-yeah... Yeah, like that... There you go...”

He gently continues to run his fingers over the hair, letting out a much softer huff.

“U-um...” I wipe my tears, trying to stay calm, “They're called box braids... they're braided into my h-hair to protect it... A-and sometimes... it's a little tight on my scalp so it hurts when it’s pulled... that's why I swatted you... it was an instinct, I’m sorry...”

His head nods so slightly that I almost didn’t notice. He was listening to me... and he seemed to be following instructions. I continue to look up at his orange mask, my eyes occasionally drifting back to his large fingers playing with the four braids. I looked into the eyeholes of the mask in an attempt to see what his eyes looked like since his body language was much calmer now, meaning that hopefully, he was less likely to react. His eyes suddenly snap to mine, the cold, pale blue irises sending a chill through my body. Michael huffs heavily again, his fingers slowly leaving the braids to which I let out a sigh of relief.

“Uh, it's time for lunch... A-are you hungry?”

His head tilted before he released my wrist and backed up so I took it as a yes and slowly stepped out of the way of the door as I opened it, allowing him to step out with slow, heavy steps that made the guards back up and rest their hands over their tasers. But he just stands there, towering over us and staring down at me. Even when the guards call for him, he remains still. Eerily still. I look at the two guards, then back at the 6’9” killer, wondering why he opted to stare at me instead of walking with them.

“Um... Michael... I thought you were hungry.”

Silence. He steps a little closer to me.

“O-oh... Oh, you're following me...?”

A subtle nod is all it took for my body to completely relax at the realization that he liked me— or at least a whole lot more than his last nurse. I start slowly walking down the hall, looking over my shoulder to see Michael’s shaggy form following me like a big, dangerous shadow. His weight made his steps echo and his long legs made his stride much longer putting him surprisingly close behind. My eyes flickered back to him often, making sure he wasn't gonna get randomly violent as I tried to stay calm, knowing his eyes were on me the whole way behind that mask. Every step felt like he was getting closer.

Eventually, I arrive at a big cafeteria room, with many other patients eating their food at the tables before the guards take over my leadership role and guide Michael to the corner of the cafeteria to a secluded, metal room. They open the doors and Michael enters silently before sitting his imposing figure down at the table, huge legs spread wide for comfort as he settles in front of the food.

But he doesn’t make a move to eat it. He just continued to stare at me through the reinforced plastic of the window on the door, watching me, his eyes through the mask never wavering. I think he likes me more than I thought.

[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/

[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI !!

Thinkin’ of dry humping Tommy <3 waking up in the middle of the night, sleepy and clad in nothing but a pink slip and a pair of oversized socks. Tommy sound asleep as your little cunny pools with wetness at the wet dream you had. This is a common occurence, so it isn’t all that unusual when you hook your leg over Tommy’s much larger one and place your desperate pussy on him.

It arouses him from his sleep, and he lets out a tiny groan as you begin to desperately grind down.

“Tommy..” you whine out, leaving a wet patch on his thigh. But he doesn’t care about that— no, not at all. Just wraps his big arm around you, presses his leg closer to you, and lets you fuck yourself on him.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[nobitchs-world]

If you’re gonna make a smut fic please specify which sexual acts that will be in it I don’t want to be surprised attacked by a nigga getting his butt fingered

[webbluvrsugar]

as much as i LOVE subby soft ethan i have to remind myself that that man is a deranged psycho killer and he would 100% be rough during sex at times. maybe he’s tense about the plan to get rid of sam and tara, maybe he’s angry at his dad, who knows! hair pulling, spanking, deep thrusts, you name it 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

a/n: I TOTALLY GET YOU!! Especially because I’m a fan of dominant men myself!! When he offended Tara I was like: :o

Ethan’s usually pretty calm, but when he’s angry… poor pussy will need help after it.

You don’t know what happened exactly for him to be this angry, you just know he mentioned something about a stupid comment chad made — which was a lame excuse because really, he just failed on blowing Sam’s brains off and the first thing that came up to his mind when he got clean of all the blood was you — but you didn’t question it, you never do, that’s why likes you, you believe everything he says, and he’s normally gentle and sweet during sex, but today especially, he’s just not feeling it.

He’s got your ass up and your face down and slammed into the sheets, completely muffling your face and voice because right now, wether you like it or not, your just a toy, something to get his stress off, and you can tell he really needs to blow off that steam by the way he’s gripping your hair, grunting and ramming into you intensely, rambling about something you can’t hear because you’re too focused drooling on the sheets, rolling your eyes back.

“And — And he’s so annoying, he always thinks everyone loves him, that he’s the best,” he mutters, one hand going down to caress your ass before he delivers a spank on it. “Well he’s not.” He groans, pushes you into the bed as he thrusts deep.

“Shit, you’re tight.” He notes, a smirk on your face that you can’t see but can hear, your hands gripping onto the headboard.

“You like this.” He rams into you harder, the slapping sound of skin and your continuous moans are the only things that can be heard in the room asides from his voice.

“Didn’t know you’re a little slut too.” Too? You have no idea who he’s talking about, but you don’t care, you just squirm away as you feel yourself closer and closer, he pulls you back by your hips, angrier.

“No — no, you’re gonna stay right there.” It’s a command, followed by grunt that escapes the back of his throat. “And be the little perfect bitch you are.”

You should be offended by his words, but it only gets you wetter as he pulls you up and flush against his chest to get you closer to him — how considerate — , your eyes shoot open, your back arches and moan his name.

“Just.” Thrust “Like.” Thrust. “That.”

taglist: @babygorewhore

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (1/?)

A word before we start: screaming sounds a whole lot like laughter.

Nothing beats the paranoia of a high man. Rough, calloused hands shove you into the dark wooden closet, whisper-yelling orders to keep your damn mouth shut before the though of protesting could even occur inside your little drunken head. Everything is spinning inside around the room, too focused on the light sensation in your head to be able to connect the dots until it's too late.

“Listen, man, we don't have anyt—” Life can be unpredictable. One moment you're having fun with your friends in a rented cabin in the woods, and the other, your best friend is being shoved into the floor by a much bigger man, the loud sounds of his shouts and struggling instinctively forcing you to put a palm over your mouth, trying your best not to scream along your dying friend.

A quiet whimper makes its way out of your throat the moment a long, bloodied machete is raised in the air, horrified wide eyes meeting yours as the panic fully sets in for him. It's like seeing a trainwreck yet being unable to stop watching, even when your brain is screaming at you to close your eyes. To save yourself from the trauma, to protect your psyche, to let the last image of your best friend be him alive—

Hack.

The masked killer lands heavy blows one right after the other on the figure underneath him, blood splashing all over the room, forcing another muffled whimper out of your lip as the man hacks away at your friend's dead body, seemingly getting more and more excited with every single new wound he's forcing.

The house is quiet— way too quiet for a group of 5 drunk people. You were previously in the bathroom, too preoccupied throwing your guts out in the bathroom to hear any noise through the loud gags and the ringing in your ears. The man's heavy breathing fills the room, making you subconsciously hold your own, not wanting to get any of his attention and be his next victim. They say ignorance is bliss, yet not knowing if the man is aware of your presence only makes the black pit of dread grow in your stomach.

His movements are slow and calculated, letting go of your friend's mangled up corpse, the sound of the machete being pulled out of his flesh almost makes you gag, secretly thankful that you emptied your stomach earlier. Baby-blue eyes scan the room with a precision that almost seemed robotic, instinctive, like a predator who has always succeeded at catching his prey.

Your heart goes down to your stomach when his cold gaze connects with yours through the thin wooden blinds, masked head tilting to the side in what seems to be sick amusement. He inches closer to you, his footsteps surprisingly quiet for a man his size, eyes crinkling up with his pupils dilating quickly, black almost taking over the pale blue.

His gloved hand raises slowly towards the doorknob, maintaining eye contact with your tear-filled eyes— only for his head to snap up towards the sound of a crack on the wooden floor coming from the kitchen. He gives the closet one last look before running towards the sound, the sickening sound of your friend's blood and guts dripping down his machete and clothes following right after him.

Thrashing and more screaming is heard from the other side of the house, snapping you out of it enough to realize it's your only chance to escape the same fate your friends met. Your shaky hand twists the doorknob slowly, not daring to look at the dead body right in front of the door— the body of someone who died just to protect you.

A shaky whimper escapes your lips when you accidentally kick the limb corpse, shaking your head a few times to snap out of it before you move away from him, staring ahead with an unfaltering sense of dread eating you from within.

Your steps are wide and calculated, sobered up the moment the masked killer started attacking your friend right in front of you. From what little you can see thanks to the moonlight seeping through the windows, the entire place looks out of a horror movie, blood staining every single wall, dripping down at such a slow pace that it almost seems like it's God's way of taunting you.

Relief finds place into the pit of dread the moment you can see the entrance door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe again— like you're not leaving behind any of your friends who may have survived the brutal attack. Guilt has no place in survival, you convince yourself within seconds as your shaky hand reaches for the doorknob, only to be slammed against the wall, a gloved hand covering your mouth to muffle the bloodcurdling screams that leave your lips.

You thrash against his rough hold, earning nothing other than a much harder hair pull, only stopping your thrashing the moment you feel cold metal pressing against your throat. Your eyes close as tears fall down your cheeks, pooling on the soft fabric of the gloves of the man holding you against your will.

“And where the fuck do you think you're going, hm?” He turns you around forcefully, pining your body against the wall with his own, tilting his head to the side just to taunt you as his sharp machete presses harder against your neck. His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, teasingly spreading your friend's blood all over your cheeks, forcing a choked sob out of you.

“Aww... Now you're all quiet. Poor pretty, broken princess...” His tone holds nothing but fake pity and pure amusement, sickly getting off on your pathetically horrified expression. His body presses against you harder as he looms over you, only leaning down to press his masked face against the crook of your neck, not bothering to hide the way he's inhaling your smell as the back of his gloved hand keeps absentmindedly running over your cheeks in an action that would be soothing, had he not been the man who killed your loved ones.

“I'll let you go.” Your breath hitches at his words, not believing him for a single second— not when you can feel his boner pressing against your stomach, his hips subtly rubbing against you to get more friction while he wonders if it's truly worth it to let you go instead of sending you home in a box.

“But you say a word about this to anyone... and I mean anyone, princess, and I swear to God, I'll gut you like a fucking fish.” His words take a bitter tone after he calls you princess, though the hold on the machete softens slightly as he hears your choked sobs, knowing the only thing preventing you from nodding vigorously like a well-trained dog is the blood-bathed steel pressing to your neck.

“Yeah? Do you promise?” The machete is moved out of the way, yet he still keeps you pinned against the wall so you don't try to run away. His pinky finger is raised up to your face mockingly, giving you an expecting look that takes you a few seconds too long to understand. Your shaky hand comes up to his, intertwining your pinky with his in a childish promise, a whimper leaving your lips the moment he applies enough pressure to make it hurt before releasing you.

He moves out of the way after a few tantalizing seconds, nodding his head towards the door, watching you scurry away like a kicked puppy, his entire body itching to go after you— and deciding against it last second, knowing he'll be seeing you soon.

[NEXT]

Author's note: The art published in all chapters belongs to @moosch!! We're both very excited about this project and to expand on something we've been talking about almost daily for months, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we do. <3