Enjoy Your Slay ~

Arkin x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You find something special in one of the Collector’s trunks

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, cuckholding, praise kink, daddy kink, creampie

This was another commission by the fantastic @roachcult. Another happy birthday present! Hope you enjoy <3

~~~

             You weave through the maze of wire stretched across the hallway. Your motions are smooth, practiced; you’ve been sneaking around this hellscape so long it’s starting to become routine. Duck, jump, turn, twist…. It’s like memorizing a dance.

             When you round the corner, you pause. The peeling red door at the end of the hall is closed. This could mean one of two things: One, the Collector simply closed it as he was leaving. This is unlikely; he never does anything without purpose. Which means the answer is two: He’s added a new victim to the collection.

             It is morbid curiosity that draws you. There is nothing that could shock you worse than what you’ve already seen, what he’s already made you see. Carefully, you ease over the spikes protruding from the floor and avoid the boards that will break under your weight and send you plummeting into a nest of barbed wire. Your fingers close around the doorknob and twist.

             The door swings open and you automatically duck, but nothing swings down from the other side. He must not have gotten around to setting the trap for this room yet. As you suspected, there’s a new red trunk sitting innocuously in the middle of the room.

~~

Asa wakes abruptly, eyes snapping open and scanning the dark bedroom. When he exhales, his breath curling white before his lips, he discovers the reason for his sudden awakening; it is absolutely freezing.

Frowning, Asa sits up, careful not to disturb your still form buried under a pile of blankets. A quick glance out the icy window confirms the first snow had come early this year. He’ll need to get up and turn on the heat.

Pulling the blankets back, he moves to get out of bed when he’s stopped by a chilly hand on his wrist. Annoyed, he looks down to find your delicate fingers clinging to him. You murmur something, some half-asleep untelligble rambling.

You tug, urging him to come back to bed. Asa considers ripping his arm out of your grip, but then your thumb strokes the thick scar winding down his forearm and his expression softens.

Sighing in defeat, Asa slips back under the blankets, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. You bury your face into the crook of his neck as he rests his chin on top of your head. He tugs the blankets up over your shoulders until he is sure none of you is exposed to the chilly air.

Abso-fucking-lutely my dude (Michael and Tommy are established relationships and Bo is a train wreck 🙃)

Michael

It’s no secret that the concept of affection is extremely foreign to Michael. When you first explain that you’d appreciate him holding you on the sofa or reciprocating the fleeting touches you give him, he simply does his signature head tilt and stares right through you.

There’s no point trying to outlast Michael when he’s being stubborn. He can and will become an immovable object for hours on end. Throwing your hands in the air you trudge off to the kitchen, fixing yourself a cup of coffee. Absentmindedly stirring the liquid, you didn’t expect to feel a heavy palm on your shoulder, patting condescendingly.

“Michael you’re an assh-“ You turned to look at him, stopping when you saw his mask was gone, brows knitted in frustration. Michael refused to meet your eyes, fixated on the corner of the room. He hated to be wrong. Before you, Michael never gave a second thought towards how he was perceived; he simply didn’t care. And he still doesn’t. Except for you.

“Michael?” You saw his eyes glaze over, indicating he was deep in thought. Something clicked in your head. He simply didn’t know how to be affectionate. It wasn’t something he’d ever had experience with, considering you were one of the first to avoid being gutted by a kitchen knife. The fact he refused to talk didn’t help either. You laced your fingers in his, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Go grab some blankets and we’ll watch a movie, okay?” He nodded slowly, backing out of the room.

You settled into Michael’s lap, feeling him go stiff underneath you. “I’ll show you, here” You tangled your fingers in his hair, rubbing soothing circles into his head. He sighed softly as you tucked your chin against his shoulder, guiding his hand to your back. Michael began mimicking your actions, caressing your skin through your shirt. “That feels great Mikey” You cooed, feeling the rest of him come to life. His head nestled against your neck, the sensation of hot breath on your pulse. You hummed happily as he brought his other hand to your hair, playing with the strands framing your face.

“Love you.” Your heart fluttered against your chest, his voice was bitter and coarse from neglect. Michael’s lips brushed against your throat, warmth flowing through you like molten gold. He squeezed you gently, lacking the usual possessiveness of his touches. Now he wanted you to know you were his, and he was yours.

Thomas

Thomas is an unrelentingly sweet, thoughtful and tender boyfriend. Every little thing you needed, he was on you like a hawk. Hadn’t eaten all day? He’ll bring you one of everything he could find (Much to Luda Mae’s exasperation). Exhausted? Thomas would scoop you up and bring you back to bed. But waking up to find you heaving over a bowl? He’s lost.

“It’s okay Tommy, I’m fine” You weren’t. Your guts felt like they were tripping on acid, your hair plastered to your sweat-coated forehead. He whined indignently, a large hand rubbing circles into your lower back. “Maybe a cold cloth?” Thomas was gone in an instant, returning with your request in record time. Despite his lack of verbal communication, Thomas’s eyes were extremely expressive, making him not all that difficult to read. Most men would’ve been a least a little disgusted, but he harboured nothing but concern for you, dabbing at your skin with the piece of fabric.

The nausea passed after a few minutes, Thomas ushering you back into bed. Your stomach churned violently again, but for a different reason. “Thomas?” He stopped. You very rarely used his actual name nowadays. “I have something to say” Panic flashed over his features. This was it. You were going to leave. Charlie wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t hurt you. You muttered something and he didn’t quite hear it, the room spinning around him. Something tugging on his fingers pulled him out of his descent into despair. Why were you crying?

“I’m pregnant Thomas.” He blinked. And again. Thomas stared down at you, the cogs in his brain whirring as he processed the information. “Tommy?” You bit your lip, waiting for his reaction, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. He moved slowly, dropping to his knees in front of you, placing his palm on your stomach. “We’re having a baby Tommy” You cupped his hand in yours against your belly, pressing a kiss to the mess of dark hair in front of you. The only vocal response you got was a gentle sigh, Thomas’s head falling into your lap. He refused to move, cradling you against him like you were the most valuable thing in the world; which in his eyes, you were.

Bo

Every time you said anything remotely positive about Bo, he shot you down with a snarky remark; either deflecting from the subject altogether or indulging his pseudo-narcissism. He pretended not to see the pained look in your eyes. It got to a point where you stopped bothering, opting to spend your free time with the other two, more amicable Sinclairs. Eventually you stopped talking to him altogether, leading you to wonder why you were still in Ambrose when you and the man in charge despised each other.

He needed your help. That’s what he told himself. Not the type of job for his brothers. Bo felt drained at the thought of interacting with you, the way you looked at him with nothing but pure hatred. His chest clenched as you approached, steely glare meeting his own. “I don’t get why you need me.” I miss you. Bo shook his head, dislodging the intrusive thought. “Vincent’s busy. Fuck knows where Lester is.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, beckoning for you to follow him into the truck with a jerk of his head. Bo paused for a moment, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he took in his appearance, unsettled when he saw the grimace on his face matched that of yours.

“Can you not fuck up for 2 seconds?” Bo snarled, fists clenched at his sides. The pair of you stood in a clearing, alone, trying to rig up an abandoned victims car. The hook slipped out from the grill, the vehicle crashing against the ground, the sound reverberating through the trees. You gritted your teeth, instincts kicking in as his threatening presence overwhelmed you. “I’m sorry Mr fucking Perfect, I’m merely a pathetic little human, here for your amusement.” Your words caught him off guard, leaving him speechless. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes.

“Wait-“ You’d already made a break for the trees, trying to escape the suffocating situation. Bo was calling your name, chasing you but you dived over a fallen log, out of his line of sight. The man you’d fallen for when you arrived in Ambrose. The same one who pushed you away, time and time again, making it impossible to even be friendly with him. He’s probably going to kill you soon. Your chest heaved struggling to intake oxygen, each breath racking your whole body. Tears streaked down your cheeks, your vision going blurry, gasping for air.

“Hey, hey now” Something warm settled around your waist and you flinched instinctively at the sound of Bo’s southern drawl. His voice seemed much softer than usual. You sniffled, stifling your sobs as best you could, not wanting to give him more fuel to burn you with. “I’m sorry.” Bo knew he was a despicable person, but he couldn’t have you thinking that you were pathetic. That you meant nothing. Hearing Bo apologise shocked you from your stupor, gazing bleary-eyed up at him, still struggling to catch your breath.

“Don’t” He pressed a calloused digit to your lips before you could speak, terrified of what you might ask. You nodded meekly, your insides feeling like they were collapsing in on themselves. Bo’s eyelids fluttered shut as his pressed his head against the top of yours. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer against his chest. You steadied your breathing in time with his, the scent cigarettes and oil oddly comforting. Holding you like this, Bo couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything quite like it; an almost lucid experience, he felt feather-light, warmth spreading through his limbs, something he could easily get addicted to. Maybe it was worth dropping the facade. Just a little.

Bonus Bo gif that I’ve been waiting to use for something like this 🥺

😍😍😍 I love this!!!

No warnings.

~~

You huff, slamming down your comb in frustration. You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes as you slump over the vanity in defeat. You’re about to stand, give up on your hair, move on to something else when you hear Asa walking down the hall.

He strides into the room, pausing and taking in your irritable expression in the mirror, the mess you’ve made of your hair. Biting back a smirk, he crosses to you and holds out his hand expectantly.

“Oh, you don’t have to—

Asa shushes you and moves his hand closer to you for emphasis. You hand him the pick and he gets to work, deftly combing back your unruly locks until they are twisted into a sleek chignon on the back of your neck.

Reaching into his pocket, he produces a shimmering gold hair pin—a butterfly—and pushes it into the base of the bun. Gripping your chin, Asa turns your head this way and that, assessing his work.

He leans down to press his lips to the shell of your ear, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine when he murmurs, “For my little butterfly.”

Sights you’re gonna send me to hospital

Asa please touch my hair i beg of ye

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Ah here we are! My third entry into Kinky December! Thanks again to @horrorslashergirl​ for setting this up! I am having soooo much fun with it! This was so fucking fun to do, holy shit! I LOVE Leslie and it had been WAY TOO long since I had last written for him so this was soooo needed. And ended up being way longer than I originally intended but what else is new? So let’s get into it! 

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.6K Warnings: Established Relationship. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Man Handling. Vaginal Fingering. Cunnilingus. Don’t Get Caught. Hold The Moan. Panty Snatching. Leslie Being Leslie.

—

In The Spirit Of Giving.

It was only a few days apart. You weren’t going to be gone long and your parents didn’t live very far away. 

Still didn’t mean Leslie had to like it. 

Let’s get one thing straight, Leslie isn’t a super clingy guy or anything, he could be away from you for days at a time and was on occasion due to his work but this was the holidays we were talking about. The guy wanted to have you around, of course he did, who wouldn’t want to spend that time with their SO? But he understood and respected the fact that some time had to be allotted to your family as well, and you did want to spend time with them too. And so it went, saying goodbye with the promise of him getting you all to himself for a few days once you were back, you would have a good time but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to what you had planned together too.

It was really nice being back in some ways and not so much in others but hey isn’t that how this time of year always went? You take the good and the bad, but it has mostly been good, thankfully.