NSFW: mask kink/male whimpering/fingering/s*x in the dark/dazed s*x/somnophilia/dazed smut/no clear signs of consent
NON DESCRIPTIVE/FEM READER
Story: Staying at the Heelshire mansion taking care of the Brahms has been so tiring, with late nights of staying awake. Not that it isn't allowed but thinking over and over again about that doll has not been letting you sleep. And now lately you have been having these dazed dreams of lust and pleasure... Could it really have been so long that now you're imagining things? Imagining a man? The exhaustion is getting to you, and it's not like anything bad is happening.. right?
You could feel your eyes growing heavy again as another orgasm rolled in. His fingers deep within you as he whimpered in your ear. You squirmed into him. It was late at night... that much you knew. The sounds of slick fingers entering and leaving you were the only sound that filled the air.
You opened your eyes to see a blurred image of a man in a mask towering over you. His mask white and scratched, his curls peeking through the top of it. You could smell dirt and a faint hint of dust mixed with sweat. Your eyes watered as another moan ripped through your chest, causing the image of the masked man to blur even more. Was this a dream? It was so vivid though, what was even happening?
He huffed and whimpered into your ear, a tent growing in his pants. But he didn't do anything to please himself, almost as if watching you was enough for him. His pace quickened as he entered another finger into you, causing your back to arch wearily. You moaned hard, feeling your release nearing. He removed his fingers from in you, forcing you to gasp. You opened your eyes once more, tears filling them as you tried to catch your breath.
He huffed, almost irritated at your lack of undoing. Still hovering over you, he stood up to meet your gaze through his mask. He huffed once more, determined this time. You gasped as two fingers entered you again, thrusting themselves deep in you... finally sending you over the edge. You yelped, reaching to cover your own mouth as you felt yourself release on to his fingers. He finally exhaled, content with his work.
The exhaustion finally winning you over as you slumped back into your bed, dozing off slowly. Through your daze you saw as he backed away from you, creeping back into the walls. It was almost as if he was melting back into the house. Just a dream? Was the last thought you had as your eyes closed, finally letting you rest...
Second day done! I have always wanted to write this story but I never knew what the premise would be. I am not sure if I did mask kink correctly but I wanted to write about Brahms! One of my fav slashers 🫶🏻 OK SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW!
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Bo laid his head on your lap as he slept. He took slow, steady breaths, and his heart beats gently like rain. His lips were parted slightly, cracked, plump, and bruised. His hands were still bloody from the kill and his hair curled upward from the sweat. He looked like a normal man who had a hard day at work.
He made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat when your fingers smoothed back his matted hair, and a smile curled on his lips. In the dim candle light, you could see his scars better on his wrist and cheek, but it didn’t bother you, not any more. He told you a thousand times never mind his skin and his past.
He has you now, his future and forever. Somehow, you’re the one curing his pain and suffering. Somehow, it’s you. It’s always been you. Continue to be his fireplace in the winter nights. Burn bright for home and call him home to warm up. Be his resting place after the hunt.
Be the fox to his hunting game and he’ll protect you forever.
You leaned down and press a kiss against his forehead, causing him to shiver and lean into your touch even more. He slipped a hand over your cheek, caressing your skin as if it was silk, then drifting back to sleep.
so today is suppose to be when I post the next chapter of slasher fic but it’s not actually finished yet lmao so im going to post a snippet instead. tagged over the past few days by @corporatebanana and @wee-fuckin-woo mwah tagging you both back. this is a long snippet but i really like it lmao.
He left out a sign as he shifted to sit back on his heels, his hands coming up to cup the base of Evan’s neck. “I swear on my life, you are making it out of here alive. Okay?”
“How can you be so sure?” Tommy didn’t respond because he didn’t have an answer. Instead he sighed and let his head fall forward, his forehead pressing gently against Evan’s. They stay there for a moment in the quiet stillness of an adrenaline filled night.
Then, the sound of static filled the room.
Tommy moved his head so fast it sent him spinning. Right behind them, nestled on a shelf between some instruction manuals and empty boxes was a ham radio.
And it was on and lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.
“Oh my god.” Tommy gasped as he sprang to his feet, moving over to the radio. He ripped the mouth piece from the holder and began fiddling with the dials until the static became smooth.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Hello!” He yelled. He really didn’t care if the killer could hear him right now. This was his only chance to get them out.
“Fuck, hello! We need help!”
“Hello? This is Sheriff Grant, can you hear me?” Athena Grant’s voice boomed through the speakers, filling the room with sound and Tommy's heart with hope.
“Oh my god, A-Athena! Bobby’s wife! It’s Tommy from camp. You need to send help, there is a killer here!”
“Tom- I can- you said- killer?” Her voice stuttered, loads bangs and cracks breaking up her sentence.
“Yes! There is a killer!”
He waited for a moment for Athena's voice to come through again but there was nothing but silence.
Then, bang.
The ham radio speakers blew and the light faded with a flick.
“Fuck!” Tommy yelled, ripping the mouth piece off the wire and throwing it against the wall. Any feelings of dread and fear and panic melted away and were replaced with blind rage. His body was shaking with anger.
They were so close. So fucking close of getting out of here. And now, he doesn’t know when or if help is coming. They had to take this into their own hands, they had to save themselves.
I was wondering if you could write for creepy neighbor! Michael x fem! reader, where he finds her on social media and downloads her pics to jerk off to then gradually 2 months later he storms into her house at night and fucks her into the mattress, love your blog <3
a/n: i absolutely can write that! thank you so much for the request and i hope you like it <3
pairing: creepy neighbour!michael x fem!reader
warnings: stalking, home intrusion, unprotected sex, rough sex
word count: 1005
You were beautiful, that much Michael knew. Even as you were staggering up the front steps to your door, your coordination severely lacking, he thought you were the most beautiful person he'd seen in a while.
Something about you always made his cock twitch in his pants, a sensation he had long since forgotten, it had been so long.
He'd first noticed you a few months ago, stumbling up the front steps to your new house, with a heavy box in your arms. No one ever came near his house, so he was surprised to find that you had been the one to finally move in next door.
He thought he had finally gone mad, that the long stretches of silence he usually endured had finally corrupted his mind, destroyed his sanity.
But with each month that passed, it became apparent to him that you were in fact real, and you were living right next door.
As he watched you jam your keys into the door, he quickly unbuttoned his coveralls, wrapping his hand around his aching cock.
But unfortunately, your brief presence outside your door wasn't enough to satisfy him, so he found himself reaching for the phone he'd stolen, quickly bringing up the images he'd taken from your social media.
He found that he rather enjoyed the idea of being able to watch somebody by simply tapping a few buttons on a screen. It certainly saved him the energy of having to sneak around outside all the time. Now, he could just watch you from inside the walls of his own home.
He pulled up an image of you in a bikini, the sun warming your skin and your chest glistening. He imagined his hands on you, rough fingers slipping beneath the straps, pulling the material over your head.
He imagined your breasts. He imagined his hands, wandering over your body, dipping inside your panties, driving his cock into you...
He wanted to hear you scream. He wanted to feel your skin beneath his hands, his cock buried deep inside your pussy.
Once he came to the realisation that a simple image wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, he put the phone down, tucking his cock back into his pants and walking towards the door.
You were home alone tonight, he knew that, which meant he was free to pay you a visit, satiate his need for you.
He silently left his house, walking straight up the steps to your house, and he opened the door with ease, noting that you rarely remembered to lock your doors at night.
Luckily for you, Michael had no intention to actually harm you tonight. He only intended to finally live out his fantasy, to feel your skin against his as he fucked you.
You were halfway up the stairs when you suddenly heard something behind you, strong hands roughly gripping your hair, forcing you forwards.
"What the fuck?!" You screamed, struggling in his hold as he continued to shove you forwards, barely even flinching as you thrashed around. "Let me go!"
It only took mere minutes to reach your bedroom, and he released his hold on your hair, forcefully throwing you into your mattress. And that was when you saw his face, the signature white halloween mask that belonged to none other than Michael Myers.
You thought he was dead. Everyone did. Yet here he was, standing over you as you laid there helpless.
"Michael?" You breathed out, staring up at him in shock. "Is that really you?"
He offered you no response, simply standing there motionless, his muffled breathing filling the silence.
"Michael─"
Before you were able to say anything else, he was closing in on you, his hands quickly finding the waistband of your shorts, effortlessly tugging the material from your body.
You probably should've struggled, attempted to fight him off in some way, but you could only lay there as he pushed your shirt up your body, revealing your tits to him.
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. You also hadn't expected to be so turned on by it.
You gasped when you felt his hands on your tits, the heat growing between your legs becoming uncomfortable.
"Michael," you whined. "Please, fuck me."
That was all the encouragement he needed to finally take his cock out, wasting no time in pushing into you, a muffled groan falling from his lips when he heard you cry out.
His hands were still roughly gripping your tits as he thrusted into you at a bruising pace, revelling in the sounds that he was pulling from your throat, and the near violent slapping of skin that filled the small bedroom.
You let out something short of a scream as he fucked you into the bed, the pressure building in your stomach becoming almost too much to bear.
"Oh, fuck! Shit!" You hissed, desperately clawing at the bed sheets.
Michael didn't let up, curling his hands around your waist as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.
He loved the way you were squirming beneath him, trying to get away, to relieve yourself of the pressure.
And it wasn't long until you felt the sting of tears in your eyes, your body aching as he continued to pound into you.
"Michael," you breathed. "Oh God!"
The fire that had been building inside you finally exploded, a shock of pleasure coursing through you as you continued to cry out, your vision becoming blurred.
Michael continued to fuck you through your orgasm, your body becoming limp as he slapped up against you. And it only took one last pathetic moan from you for his hips to stutter, pleasure crashing over his own body now as he spilled into you, a muffled groan pushing past his lips.
Once he was finished, he pulled out of you, leaving you to watch as he tucked himself away, quickly doing up his coveralls before turning and walking out of your door.
Can i get some headcanons for Jennifer with a s/o who's bad boy acting and looking but they're actually a goody goody and socially awkward thx💗❤🖤
yes absolutely!! loving all the jen requests i've been getting <3
jennifer check 💄 x bad boy (?) reader (headcanons) 💭
jennifer notices you first. she's into the leather jacket, the brooding, the way you look like you've walked straight out of a springsteen music video. the kind of person who should lean against walls, light cigarettes, and break hearts. except...
you don't lean against walls. you apologize when you accidentally bump into them. you're the sort of person who looks tough, but thanks the barista for your coffee with a dimpled smile, holds the door open for strangers, and stammers when someone compliments your jacket.
jennifer likes her toys with a little mystery to them. the ones that begged for mercy got boring quickly, and the ones that tried to fight back were all the same in the end — scratched, screaming, and torn. but you? you're a puzzle. all jagged edges on the outside, broken glass reflecting a pretty picture… but inside, so fragile it makes her teeth ache.
jennifer finds it hilarious. she catches you in the act of something painfully wholesome (petting a stray cat), and decides she has to keep you around just to see what other contradictions you'll reveal.
you of course have no idea jennifer's a literal man-eating succubus. she throws out hints all the time, but you're too busy panicking over how to ask her out to notice.
she plays up your 'bad boy' image to everyone else. when people ask, she spins wild stories about how you ride your motorcycle out alone at midnight allll the time, and once punched a guy for catcalling her. (you're mortified by this; the only thing you've ever punched is a vending machine for eating your quarter)
you're her moral compass... sort of. jennifer, in her own twisted way, likes how you make her feel almost normal. it's a game to her, seeing how long she can pretend to be 'just a regular girl' who happens to have a dangerous taste in friends.
you awkwardly try to 'protect' jenn. you think she's in over her head with bad influences (oh, the irony). you once attempted to lecture her on "choosing better friends" after catching her talking to someone shady in the parking lot. she laughed for hours.
she grows territorial. not because she's in love (she'd never admit that), but because she doesn't like the idea of anyone else discovering your soft center. you're hers to mess with, hers to tease, and maybe hers to protect... in her own feral way.
you accidentally start to soften jennifer in ways she didn't expect. she doesn't understand it, but your genuine kindness occasionally makes her hesitate, just for a second, before going in for the kill. it's inconvenient and frustrating, and she blames you entirely.
she'd never admit it, but she’s protective of you. if anyone tries to mess with you, she's the first to step in. because no one gets to play with her toy but her.
thanks for reading!! 💌
you can find more of my writing here on ao3!
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perhaps fluff, ( YK, as far as slashers can get with fluff)
Word count: 1483
Flattered
Your finger lightly petted the falling wax that gently ran down the long, white candle, toying with it betwixt your thumb and pointer before it cooled into a thin coat over them.
You released a little hum before using a nail to peel off the remains with ease, soon feeling just a bit happy with how soft your skin felt afterward.
Though, the delight was short-lived.
- It usually was.
Boredom had you sitting here with a halfhearted gaze, wondering if you'd ever get out.
The man that held you captive did nothing much but put himself to work, occasionally looking back at you to confirm that you were still there.
As if you could go anywhere else but under his nose.
It made no sense as you didn't know where else you could go but sit, making you wonder why he did so, so often.
"I'm not going anywhere," you reminded him in a soft voice as you then lay back on the bed there.
It was the only thing that had been saved from the touch of the melted substance he worked with, and you were grateful. You were surrounded by it.
"Can't," you mumbled before closing your eyes tiredly.
Like hell you'd try anyways when his brother was lurking anywhere the masked one wasn't.
'I'm better off here,' you inwardly mused.
If you were completely honest, you preferred being stuck with this man instead.
At least he just kept you there at a distance, something the other one had trouble doing when you first got into town.
You didn't even want to think about what he would have done to you if Vincent hadn't intervened, pulling you to him with a sort of claim that had you conflicted.
Because you didn't know if being with him was going to be better or worse, luckily, things had gone pleasantly thus far.
-You weren’t dead and that counted as a victory.
He didn't try and touch you, excluding the few moments his soft hands grazed your cheek, feeling the texture of your flesh to what you concluded was inspiration to his more innocent work.
Gently his fingers trailed the line of your lower lip, and as you tried to follow the movement of the exploring digits, your eyes practically glowed at the act.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think of it as anything other than utter interest, but even then he adored the look you possessed.
You quickly lost your initial cowering when you realized he wouldn’t draw lower than our jawline, or roam anywhere else other than your face.
So, you let him do as he pleased, occasionally voicing out little teases that got you little, flustered responses.
‘Having fun?’ you questioned him while trying not to laugh to much at the way his movements would be interrupted by a sudden, minuscule jerk that would be akin to a stutter in someone’s voice.
You noticed the way his fingers would tremble, and for whatever reason it was ….cute.
For just a moment you opened your eyes again, a half-lidded look pointed to where he continued to run the warm metal utensil over little mistakes he’d made.
You blinked your eyes open wide before you suddenly turned your whole head, your face pointed to his direction, your entire body soon following the movement until you lay at your side, observing.
‘Is that what he’s been up to?’ you asked yourself, realizing how it made sense the amount of times he stared at you, studying.
"Is that me?" you asked with a touch of a smile, asking from where you now sat, your legs hanging off from the side of the bed.
At the finishing details, you finally found yourself eased enough to ask just as he took a step back to give it a final once over.
Granted for the past few days, you hadn't talked , but the simple boredom of all those hours had you begging for some interaction.
At your question Vincent turned back to you and nodded slowly before looking down, shifting awkwardly.
You watched as his hands toyed with the tool he held, and as you observed, you detected what was perhaps bashfulness.
His lack of words made his body language much more exaggerated, that was for sure.
But, of course, you didn't mind much.
"Can...um...can I get a better look?" you asked with a crooked smile, waiting for his response.
His head shot up and he looked at you for a long minute before he nodded.
You weren't sure why, but you felt a bit amused before you walked over to him and the wax figure, eyeing it as it was just at your height.
Your hand went out to touch it before it retreated, and you looked up to the massive man, uncertain,
"Can I?" you asked, afraid to ruin his work.
Though, he nodded fiercely, the hand closest to him hesitating before it reached for yours, guiding it towards your replica's face.
That's where you started, petting an eyebrow before skimming down it's chin.
You then brought the hand to your own face, feeling the difference with awe.
"It's amazing," you said while looking op to him, the single eye that stared you down holding appreciation.
Though, you could hardly see it as it was hidden by the shadow of his mask and jet black strands that had framed his face.
"You're really talented," you told him, flattered by the work, moreover appreciating that he had only used you as a muse and not the base for his sculpture.
"I'm nowhere near your skill, but maybe I can sculpt you sometime, " you joked while looking the work over more.
He even caught the fabrics of your clothes right, making you softly sigh.
It had only been a silly remark, because you doubted you could pull it off anyways, but he seemed elated.
his hands both took your wrists captive as he turned you towards him, the act nearly tearing a scream out of you in frightened surprise. Other than the first time he’d practically tore you out of his brother’s brute grasp on you, it was the first time he’d used any real force.
He lightly shook you as he bent down a bit, looking down with a tilted head, not speaking, but communicating with a nearly muted hum you found somewhat endearing.
Quickly, your terror subsided as you took in his response.
"Ah, You like that idea?" you said with a short chuckle, and he nodded quickly, excited.
"I'll take that as a yes," you said as you eased your wrists out of his grip, only doing so thanks to the dying pressure of his hands.
He'd never had anyone try and capture his likeness.
Not even he bothered to do so.
But you had offered, and it was something he didn't know he yearned for until he watched you try and mimic the steps he'd taken to create yours.
You explained to him how you’d work on a much smaller scale, the figure no larger than six inches, giving you a small enough goal that didn’t require all of his precise touches.
He helped you start of, slowly guiding you with silent advise and little nudges you smiled at.
You were somewhat sloppy, and when you weren't, you were far too considerate, your pace careful, almost afraid of messing up.
Soon after, he let you try your hand while he sat back and watched for hours, giving you the workspace needed to become familiar while he stayed out of the way.
However, it didn't mean he sat back and did nothing, because he found the sight of you moving around his usual workspace to be charming as you copied many of his movements , even the unnecessary ones.
It was cute watching you move around in his apron with no real direction.
He’d help you out, but given how determined you were to do it on your own, he refrained from it after you pleaded with him on the first attempt.
Flattered was in no way near what he felt, because it was far greater.
In his sketchbook he recorded the various faces of your process, the purse of your lips, the lines of frustration and consideration that decorated it too.
-And especially your moments of little victories as you saw your efforts pay off.
Even the light smudges of dried wax you had dotted on your cheeks as you wiped them occasionally had been captured.
He recorded it all on paper, and hoped that after he finished the moments, you thought of them as fascinating too.
Gently his fingers ran down the slick wax that protected his face, realizing how warm he felt beneath the mask, his cheeks flushed with color that spread over his ears too.
for a moment you looked back at him, his living muse smiling preciously.
Random I got lately about what it'd be like if Flint met and was around the Sinclair brothers. Also John will turn up, eventually- Mwahahah
It started with the pontiac breaking down, John growling as he slammed the hood shut. They needed a fan belt- and gas. Both that was never given, even after a good samariton gave them a ride to town, with the promise of a local mechanic being able to work wonders on any vehicle- John should have killed Lester right there and then and taken his truck- but the overwhelming smell of rotting carcases impaired any sensible thoughts he had, at least to a crazy man.
Now Flint was bound to a chair at the kitchen table, Vincent running his waxen fingers through their hair as he hummed softly- satisfied to have his muse back for the day. Bo was sitting at the kitchen table, his legs cross while reading a paper, stealing a glance at the young vampire who barely touched their eggs- soaked in blood. “Come on kid, eat up so Vinny can drag yah around for his arts n’ crafts whatever-”
Vincent shook his head, turning Flint to face him as he gazed into their face. Their scales were glittering in the morning sunlight- skin reddening upon impact. Bo suddenly groaned as he slammed his paper down and pulled the chair over to himself with a deafening squeal against wood.
“Damn it, your forgot to rub sunblock on em’! Now look at er, she's gonna have one hell of a nasty sun rash if we don't get the stuff on.”
Bo huffed, grabbing the bottle sat on the table beside him, squirting its content into the palm of his hand before smothering it all over their face, prompting a soft hiss to escape.
“Yeah I know, it sucks- oh don't look at me like that!”
He crossed his arms as Flint growled. “Why don't yah tell me where John is then? Maybe then I'll comply!”
Flint spat, prompting Bo to raise his brows before smirking; “Don't yah like hanging out with us? You should be grateful we rescued your ass from that psycho.”
They trembled, the threat of tears burning their eyes. “I didn't need rescuing, I…”
Tears trailed down their cheeks as Vincent got a tissue, dabbing them- a mix of blood and sunscreen smearing across their skin. Bo sighed, before leaning himself close to Flint; “Look, kid, I don't want to be the bad guy here- you and I, us, have a lot in common. Yah need us, you need me, and that psychotic drifter couldn't provide what we can…that's why he left town.”
Vincent cocked his head to the side, giving Bo a look as his twin placed his hands on Flint's shoulders, feeling the child heave and sob. He looked up at Vincent, shooting a warning glare back before placing back on the mask. “Come on now, quit your crying- there's lots of work to do.”
His rough, calloused hands caressed their face, his thumb wiping away yet another tear that trailed down. “You, kiddo, and I are going to be the best of friends.”
