- ★ hello! i'm vesta (or just ves)!! and welcome to my blog! honestly i don't have a life outside of my self indulgent delusions SO!! i've decided to start publishing fanfiction :)! however, i am honestly such a chatterbox so feel free to just talk to me about anything and everything!
- ★ at the moment, requests are open! so don't be shy lovely readers ;) i also do match-ups and roleplay!! all other information can be found through the various links below! xoxo
🏐 "𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑩 𝑿𝑰𝑨," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ nsfw slapping caleb during sex ꗃ .. smut mdni ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ mina says this is so self idulgent idc sfsjdh ⁀ ˳ ⟡
"Please," he was begging, hips shallowly thrusting against your plump ass, his large hands gently pinning your legs down against your chest to fold you in half. He was desperate, so down bad, and so fucking hard. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes half lidded, and mouth agape to gasp for little breaths of air, looking on the verge of busting inside of you but edging himself to prolong the pleasure.
“Y-you’re gross..” you gasped out softly, resting back on your forearms, closing one eye and moaning when he thrusted just deep enough to hit that spongey spot. Eyes glazing over his needy face, as you tried to look as annoyed.
His thrusts only got quicker and more shallow, shameless whimpers spilling free from his lips as he nodded. “more… c’mon, insult me, slap me, hit me…” he whined, groaning out when he felt your tight pussy squeeze around him. Walls clamped down around his dick, “f-fuck… fuckfuckfuck…” he moaned quietly, as he bit down on his bottom lip and moved his hips much slower, knowing he was about to cum any second now.
“You’re dumb, a-annoying, arrogant, and you think you own me,” you whined and rattled off, stuttering from his thrusting cock, looking at him with tense eyes. That was before you pouted, and leaned up just a little, moving one of your arms quickly.
SLAP!
His breathing hitched, a red mark blooming on his stinging cheek. The room going quiet after your slap, but you didn’t seem sorry or bothered. Laying back down when you felt his dick twitch inside of you, whining softly. His eyes traced back into your naked body beneath him, gaze darkening and tongue pressing against the inside of the cheek you had slapped. He let out a shameless moan before grabbing your thighs tighter and pushing them apart roughly.
“Fuck. You’re so hot.”
Unable to hold back anymore, he sped up his thrusts, lifting his hips back and slamming against your plump ass fast and hard. Squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his eyebrows, mouth agape in a silent moan. His hips thrusted erratically, your bedroom filled with the creaking of the bed, your moans, and the sound of his hips going “plap! plap! plap!”
He threw his head back, “a-agh..!” moaning out as his hips stuttered, when he finally came deep inside your pussy. Hot, sticky cum flooding your hole as you whimpered and squirmed, body aching and tired.
His hips began to gently roll when his orgasm subsided, looking down at you lustfully. His left hand moving to your inner thigh and thumb gently rubbing and swirling over your clit.
"thinking about what else those skilled hands can do" PLEASE ELABORATE
LMAOO I MEAAANNN... 🤭🤭
Jeff’s hands are impossible to ignore - long, veiny, and built like they were made for sin. Thick veins snake across the backs of them, pulsing visibly under the skin, branching down each of those long, elegant fingers like ropes under tension. His palms are broad and powerful, calloused from years of flipping knives and gripping handles, but the fingers themselves are almost unfairly pretty: long, straight, with just the right amount of thickness at the base tapering to blunt tips. They look strong enough to choke someone out and skilled enough to make you forget your own name.
And he knows exactly what to do with them.
It’s muscle memory at this point, carved into him from all those knife tricks and endless practice. He doesn’t rush. He’ll slide those long fingers between your thighs slowly, letting you feel every ridge of vein as they glide over your skin. Two of them first, pressing inside you with that perfect curl, the pads of his fingertips dragging along your front wall until they find that one swollen, sensitive spot. Then he stays right there - steady, rhythmic strokes, applying the exact pressure that makes your back arch and your breath catch.
He knows how to angle his wrist so those long fingers reach deeper than they should, how to hook them just right. The veins on the back of his hand stand out even more when he flexes, the skin pulled tight as he works you open. You can feel them shift and move under your palm when you grab his forearm for leverage, your nails digging in while he keeps that relentless, perfect pace.
He’ll watch your face the entire time, eyes dark, and when he feels you start to flutter around him, he just presses harder, curls deeper, until your thighs shake and you’re cumming hard around those fingers, soaking his hand and wrist while he keeps stroking you through it.
After a while, you can’t even look at his hands without your pussy clenching. The way they wrap around a knife, the way they flex when he’s thinking, the way those veins pop when he grips something tight - it all triggers the memory of how they feel buried inside you, stretching you, owning you. Every vein, every knuckle, every inch of those long, skilled fingers has been memorized by your body.
Out of all the creeps, Jeff easily has the most skilled hands. And he puts them to veeeeery good use 🙂↕️
𖦹 CW: Cunnulingus, cannibalism, “heat”, knot, violence, murder, sex
𖦹 Summary: These are my personal headcanons for Eyeless Jack, which will also show up in my series Treat Me Like An Animal (shameless plug). I’ll edit as his character develops more while I write him.
𖦹 Word Count: 1500
General
Jack’s mask isn’t just to hide his face, it regulates him. Without it, the world is too loud, too bright, too overstimulating. Every sensation hits his increased senses all at once, the scent, the sound, the feel of things. The mask almost dulls it in a way, gives him something to focus on and distracts him. With it on, he feels more in control. Without it he’s overwhelmed.
He doesn’t “see” the way humans do. He sees the world through many senses: heat, movement, pressure. Someone doesn’t have to be in front of him for him to see them. He’s always aware of everything around him. But he’s also never truly looking at anything.
Stillness makes people harder to detect. If you stop moving, slow your breathing, and quiet yourself, you’re less noticeable. But he will still notice you.
His diet isn’t only kidneys but they’re necessary. They’re the best source of what his body needs. They help him recover when he’s injured or unwell. He can consume other parts, human or animal, but they don’t sustain him the same way. So he prioritizes the kidneys, and if necessary will leave the rest behind.
But he usually keeps what he can’t eat immediately in a locked deep freezer. He does not share or want people near it at all. It’s his and will defend it the same way a predator will defend their meal.
Animals don’t satisfy him. They’re like a poor substitute, something to keep him alive but not satisfy him. He’ll eat an animal if he has to, if he’s too weak or too busy to hunt properly. But it leaves him not feeling right.
He doesn’t sleep the same way humans do. He goes still, completely motionless for hours. But he’s never unaware of his surroundings. He simply rests and regains his energy.
He prefers quiet places. Places that won’t overwhelm him with his increased senses. Anywhere the world feels muted, he will enjoy.
Most of the time he’s so still, it’s uncanny. He doesn’t have the need to drift or fiddle his fingers like humans. He’s just still.
Romantic SFW
He doesn’t understand romance at first. You’ll say something romantic and he’ll just… pause. He’ll tilt his head at you and just buffer, trying to process it.
But once he does feel romantic feelings for you? Oh no. He’s intense. Constantly smelling you, trying to memorize your scent.
His love language is quality time. He could sit next to you and do nothing but smell you and watch you breathe while listening to the soft beat of your drum for hours. Your space is the safest place he’s ever been in.
Personal space… Jack’s never heard of it. Honestly he doesn’t understand it in general but quickly got the message when he got up close to the other creeps and got yelled at. But with you, he especially doesn’t understand and you don’t think he ever will. You want him near you because you’re his and he’s yours. Why wouldn’t you want to feel his hot breath on you at all times? Even if he doesn’t mean to, he will start drifting closer and closer without realizing until he’s almost on top of you.
He loves biting, it’s instinct for him. He sees you? He bites. He loves the feeling of your flesh underneath his teeth.
He doesn’t “look” at you. But you can feel when his attention is on you. It’s heavy and focused, like the entire world narrowed down to just you two.
Your voice becomes something that he can instantly recognize, no matter what’s happening around him.
He hates having his mask on around you. Usually he starts getting stressed as soon as it comes off, the pastas are loud and when he’s out of the house, he doesn’t like to take it off either. But around you, he’s itching to take it off. He wants to see you, feel you entirely. He doesn’t want his senses dampened. He wants to feel them overtake him as he focuses on you and only you.
He tries to understand human humor but fails. Hilariously so oddly enough. You laugh at something and he just tilts his head in confusion. But then later he’ll repeat the joke in the exact same tone because that’s definitely how it works.
If you ever get hurt, something in him snaps. Not loud or explosive like the other creeps are. But quiet and quick. Whatever it was will be gone immediately and he will treat you to the best of his ability.
He doesn’t like treating your injuries. Not because he doesn’t know how, but because it’s you. He overthinks, second guesses, checks everything over and over. He can’t detach like he normally does.
He learns your habits and your routines. Not in a stalking way, just memorizing everything about you.
He doesn’t really get jealous per say. He doesn’t understand human jealousy really, like he loves you and you love him so why would either of you betray that?
But sometimes, rarely, but sometimes he gets quiet. He watches and withdrawals, wondering if now will be when you decide you want something more than a monster.
If you reassure him, he believes you. But he still doesn’t fully understand why you chose him.
Physical affection is surprisingly natural for him. He’s almost always touching you— your arm, your hand, your waist. It grounds him, gives him something to steady himself. He can feel your pulse underneath your skin, and that’s comforting.
Sometimes, though, there’s a slight disconnect. Not in a cold or unfriendly way— just observational. He’s learning what different forms of touch do to you, what makes your heartbeat change, what makes you lean in, what makes you relax.
Your body becomes something he memorizes down to every detail. The exact speed your heart usually beats to. The subtle difference between calm and anxious. If your breathing shifts when you’re tired or when you’re focused. He notices, tilting his head at you, observing what changed.
With him, nothing is accidental. Even if it feels like it.
Romantic NSFW
He doesn’t initiate. He gets drawn in by your warmth, by the way your body responds to him, by the way your pulse cuts through everything else directly into him. You’ll notice it slowly— an inch closer, then another, until his breath is against your skin. If you don’t stop him, he won’t stop himself.
He goes into heat, and when he does, it’s uncomfortable. He needs you. He’s no longer the quiet, gentle Jack who analyzes your every move. It’s messy, it’s rough. He pounds into you deep and relentless until you’re left screaming his name. Not out of a want to stop, but out of being so overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside you at every thrust.
Knot. He has a knot, and he will gladly use that knot to make sure you can’t squirm away until he cums inside you.
Sex, for him, is layered. It’s fixation, curiousity, and something a little too close to hunger. The line exists but… it’s thin.
Control is something he has to maintain. You can feel it in the way he pauses sometimes, his body tensing, his grip tightening— like he’s reminding himself. There’s always a point when instinct tries to take over and he has to consciously hold it back.
He prefers being close to you, against you. Your back against his chest, his arm around you, his hand around your wrists so he can feel your pulse quicken.
Your heartbeat affects him more than it should.
He will lick you. He will lick every part of you with his long hot tongue that is able to maneuver into any space he wants it to, feeling like a hot wet scalpel slicing you open.
He loves going down on you. His tongue loves exploring every crevice, pushing in when your back arches and those sweet moans escape you. After leaving you completely breathless, his tongue plunges into you, intensifying that warm feeling deep in your lower stomach.
He memorizes what you respond to. What makes your breathing change, what makes your muscles tighten under his hands. He learns it the same way he learns everything: repetition, focus, and quiet analysis.
Sometimes you’ll feel him pause. He’ll be completely still, his hand resting over you, his head tilted slightly like he’s listening to something you can’t hear.
Afterward, he doesn’t pull away. He stays close, almost pressing against you. Like he needs that extra time to reestablish control. Feel your body calm, your breath slow. So his body can relax with yours.
With you, he’s not softer. But he is more controlled. And that control is the only thing keeping the rest of him from surfacing.
The rain slowly fell on Toby’s body, as if to erase every single trace of that exhausting day from him. The operator has sent him on a solo mission. Again. Sometimes he didn’t really enjoy being his favourite, but he would never disobey or disappoint him in any way. Not when he gave his life a purpose. He found him lost, damaged beyond repair, and still choose to give him a chance.
Toby was sitting on a tree stump, adrenaline still pumping, while tiny rain drops mixed with blood, sweat and dirt.
The sun had just disappeared, which meant that the woods were at their most dangerous, and he was one of the reasons why. Nobody had to get any near the mansion. Rules were rules, and Toby had to follow them.
As much as he respected the operator, he didn’t really enjoy being around the others. Thats why he never stayed at the mansion, not for long at least. They were so loud and obnoxious. The atmosphere always felt overwhelming and sickening.
It was nice having some alone time like this from time to time. Especially after committing morally debatable acts.
Though, deep down, he wished to share that little moment of peace with someone in particular.
The only one he could stand and who understands him. The one he would do anything for. You really got him wrapped around your precious finger.
Every single person Toby knew was cruel. Ruthless. Sadistic. Him included.
And then there was you.
Perfect to his eyes. More beautiful than the moon and the stars but still as dangerous as the blade of the hatches that sat by his sides. You could read him so effortlessly. He would be lying if he said that didn’t scare him a little.
He has thanked many times the fate for introducing something as sweet and pure as you in his chaotic life.
Suddenly steps could be heard behind him. Fast and light, getting more and more closer.
His shoulders relaxed once he recognised them.
“What are you- you doing here?”
He finally opened his eyes and slightly turned his head to take a look at your form behind his shoulders.
“Didn’t i told you not to come here a-alone?”
Your arms were around his neck in no time, your cold nose nuzzling him as you placed an exaggerated peck on his cheek, completely ignoring all the dried blood that was there.
“You didn’t answer”
A chuckle escaped your lips and no words could describe how much he loved that sound.
“Wanted to see you. Isn’t that a valid reason?”
His scarred hand found yours before bringing to his chapped lips and place a kiss on it.
“Missed you, sweetheart”
Then he looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours, and the way you looked at him? So sincerely and kindly, even when he was at his worst? He would never get used to it or get enough of it. Ever.
You stayed like that for a while. Staring at each other’s souls as the rain slowly started to clear up, as if the sky has found its peace in yours.
The creepypasta fandom will forever be my safe space and my sweet escape when things get hard. I thought I’d be out of this phase by the time I was an adult but these characters will always have a spot in my heart. Which is crazy because they’re literally psycho killers and I’m mostly reading about them fucking like crazy but ykw—
creepypasta x afab reader | nsfw | their secret kink - headcanons
characters : jeff the killer, eyeless jack, ticci toby, jane the killer
cws : explicit content, afab reader, breeding kink, knotting, creampies, free use, public sex, power play, fem dom, bdsm, lingerie, degradation
a/n : another round of creepypasta headcanons! this time it's what kink i believe the pasta's would be a little shy about admitting ;). if you guys would like a part two then just leave a comment what characters you would like to see next! i do plan to branch to some other fandoms that are listed in a link on my pinned post, so don't be shy to send some requests! enjoy xoxo
jeff the killer | jeffery woods
i am such a firm believer in free use jeff. something about getting to have you all to himself whenever and wherever he wants just sets him off. especially in risky situations when you both know anyone could walk in and catch you. his favorite spot is the kitchen because it's right by the living room where someone always is. he'll have you bent over the sink, one hand coming up to press against your mouth while the other is shoved in your pants pumping his fingers in and out of your gummy walls. better not be too loud or they just might catch you.
getting him to actually admit this though is like pulling teeth. we all know jeff can be a stubborn ass at times (especially when he knows it's the truth). it's such a hit to his pride to admit just how much he constantly wants you, how many times he thinks of taking you. but once you suggest the idea of free use? you might just come to regret it when you realize just how insanely high this mans sex drive is. you can't get anything done when he's around. laundry? he's kneading at your tits and grinding himself against your ass. dishes? somehow you end up with dish soap down your tits and a horde of hickies. this man is relentless when it comes to you!
jeff loves the idea of having that kind of power to just take and take whenever he wants. there would be many moments within the mansion that he would lead you off to a private spot, wordlessly slipping down your pants and shoving his fingers into you. it wouldn't be until you're literally begging him to fill you that he would oblige. leaning down to whisper sweet praises that your his good little slut as he pumps you full of his cock. get too loud and he'll shove a couple of his fingers in your mouth to muffle the sounds as his thrusts get more brutal. "look at you, can't even keep quiet you're so needy for my dick," he'd murmur against the crook of your neck.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
eyeless jack | jack nyras
....i have said it once and i will say it again. breeding kink eyeless jack! it doesn't even matter if the two of you don't want kids, he wants to stuff you to the brim!! especially when he reaches his season of heat (demon biology has its perks). it's genuinely the only thing on his mind just to breed you over and over again. he's bad about containing that too. every chance he gets he'll have his thick cock buried inside you to the hilt, muttering about how he needs to fill you with every thrust.
eyeless jack isn't too shy to admit this though, it doesn't take much convincing to get him to cave in. and once he does? he's going to have you stuffed so full of him that you'll constantly have to change your panties. something about that only turns him on more though. the idea of him dripping down your thighs throughout the day, reminding you of who you belong to. makes him want to cum inside you all over again. he'll lead you off to the bedroom, whispering sweet things about how much he needs you and he just can't get enough of you. when he does finish, he makes sure that you take every last drop, pushing any drips back inside you with his fingers even after he pulls out.
i also believe that jack would knot (if you weren't an omegaverse kid, you're on you own with this one lol). his cock swelling at the base , making sure you physically have to take his seed. he'd be hunched over you, his form encasing your own as that knot swells to stretch you out even further. "just like that sweet thing, you can take it," he'd whisper, pressing encouraging kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
ticci toby | tobias rogers
hear me out on this one. i feel like toby would be secretly into his partner having complete and total control. it would take a great deal of trust but something about actually putting that trust into another person is exhilarating to him. it would start off small, with you topping him or commanding him into what position you wanted. then it would become more exploratory. you choking him, blindfolding him, gagging him, etc. the more trust he has in you, the harder the kinks get.
this would be a hard one for him to admit to. i mean, it's not exactly an easy conversation to start with "hey i want you to tie me up and ride me like a bitch in heat". it would have to begin with you initiating a little power over him. riding him and telling him what a good boy he is to let you use his pretty cock however you wanted. that would help open him up more to the idea of you being in complete and total control. eventually, leading to some more aggressive kinks, or even punishments. he'll start acting up on purpose just to get you to make him eat you out for the next hour to earn forgiveness.
toby is already a very praising partner but once the two of you begin exploring this- he will worship you. he'll beg you just to let him lick your perfect cunt, he doesn't even need anything in return. (but you still take care of him after being such a good boy). he especially loves it when you ride him, his hands cuffed to the headboard as his hips desperately rut up into you. his cheeks would be all flushed, eyes glazed over with sheer need. "p-p-please y/n, i'll do anything just let me cum in you," he would beg in that sweet whiny little voice he always used when close.
•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••
jane the killer | jane richardson
jane and food play. that's it. that's the post. i feel like she realized she had this kink when you were eating something messy like ice cream. you just a bit of cream smeared over your upper lip- and jane? jane was transfixed. before she knew it, she was leaning in to lick it away. she always had been drawn to seeing you in pretty things. lacy lingerie just for her, your hair and make up all done up like you were begging her to ruin it. but the idea of you being her personal plate? delicious (pun intended hehe).
she wouldn't even realize there was entire kink for this. who wouldn't want to lick whipped cream off their girlfriends nipples? but the moment she suggests anything about it to you, and you explain that it is in fact an entire kink- well, at least she has a name for it now. after that, she'll constantly want to try new things on you. some strawberries perfectly rested on your collarbones so she can suck the remaining juice off and leave hickies? yes please. she'll even try and match it to whatever lingerie you have on. but her absolute favorite is whipped cream. simply because she can put it anywhere on you without it rolling off and create various patterns with it. even spelling her name across your body.
she would have you all sprawled out in her plush bed, various candies and dollops of sweet cream along your form. with each lick or suck, she would leave behind a light purple mark to remind you. as she trails lower, her hands push your legs apart, her lips hovering just over where you needed her most. "my favorite treat," she'd hum, running her tongue just barely across your folds. you were the kind of craving she could never get enough of.
Being a proxy means your brain is never really quiet.
Even when the others are out on their own assignments, or it’s late at night and you’re all by yourself, the air still hums with a constant static, like a radio signal stuck between stations, just loud enough to crawl under your skin and make you irritable.
It’s Him. Always Him.
You can only count on one hand the amount of times you’ve heard Slenderman speak out loud, and even then you didn’t catch much of it over your own screaming. He doesn’t talk because he doesn’t need to. The orders arrive as pressure behind your eyes, flashing images and impulses that burn themselves into your brain until your obedience is the only thing that stops the ache.
There are no negotiations, no questions, no “later.” Anything that isn’t directly serving the next task—rest, food, medicine—is irrelevant and wasteful of his time.
Proxies don’t get days off, you get slivers.
You get minutes, sometimes hours, snatched between kills and jobs when the static recedes just enough that you can breathe again. Those slivers are all you have, they’re practically a currency amongst you proxies.
You learn fast not to waste them.
Toby is shoving you into the hall closet of the mansion quickly, both of you scurrying in like rats, and for half a second you both freeze, listening for footsteps, for the telltale static that means He’s close.
But there’s nothing, just the ragged symphony of your breathing and the creak of the old floorboards you’re standing on.
Toby’s mouth finds yours before you can even tell him the coast is clear.
His lips invade yours, shoving his tongue past your teeth and taking up most of the empty space in your mouth. You taste copper, either from his perpetually bitten tongue or you bit him back too hard, you can’t tell and you don’t care. One of his hands fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can drag open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat while the other claws at his belt buckle desperately.
“Fuck—fuck, c’mon,” he hisses between bites. The metal of his buckle clinks uselessly, slipping out of his grip. “Why th-the hell d’you wear sss-so many goddamn layers—”
“You’re one to talk,” you gasp, already shoving at the waistband of your jeans. The denim is tight and stubborn, sticking to your sweat-damp skin. Your fingers shake, but you’re so wound up you can barely feel them. “You’ve got like—three shirts and that stupid hoodie—”
“I-It’s fuckin’ cold out,” he snaps. He finally gets the belt free with a triumphant grunt and yanks his zipper down so fast you’re surprised it doesn’t break. “And shut up. You’re gon-gonna get u-us caught. Fuck.”
His face jerks as one of his tics fires off, spurring the fire in him more.
You’d argue, but he’s already crowding you backward until your spine hits the wall. Coats and jackets hanging beside you brush your sides, making the already tiny space feel minuscule. The space is tiny, barely enough for both of you to stand chest-to-chest, and every movement makes fabric rustle and hangers clatter.
Toby’s hands are everywhere. Under your shirt, his calloused fingertips scrape over your ribs, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh above your hips hard enough to bruise. You manage to shove your jeans halfway down your thighs before he spins you.
Your palms slap flat against the peeling paint, cringing at the cold wall pressed against your cheek. Behind you, Toby presses in close, pushing his chest to your back, his hips slotting tight against your ass. And oh god, he’s so hard it makes your knees threaten to give out.
He grinds against your ass, letting you feel every thick inch trapped behind his boxers. A shudder rolls through you both. His forehead drops to the nape of your neck, and you can feel the way his shoulders are shaking.
“Shit,” he breathes, his voice splintering. “Shit, I ca-can’t—I can’t ww-wait, I need—”
“Then quit whining,” you whisper-yell, shoving your hips back against him. “Just—fuck, hurry up Toby, please.”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh, but it’s hard to tell with his mouth pressed to your shoulder now.
“Please?” he echoes, mocking you with a forced high-pitch voice. “Y-You’re gonna beg now? After pr-prac-practically eye-fucking m-me the entire mission tuh-today?”
“You liked it,” you pant, reaching back awkwardly to claw at his hip, trying to drag him closer. “You were shaking the whole time—”
“‘Cause I w-was thinking about fuh-fucking the shit o-out of y-y-you on the drive ba-back here,” he growls against your ear. “Wan-Wanted to spread y-you out right there i-in the back see-seat so Tim and Brian could wa-watch.”
“Toby—”
“Say it again,” he demands, kissing your neck. His hand snakes around your front, his fingers dipping beneath the band of your underwear and pushing his digits between your legs, finding you utterly soaked. “Fuck—say my n-name like thh-that again, please, I’m losing i-it—”
“Toby,” you grit out, trying to angle your hips so he’ll push his fingers inside you. But his hips jerk forward involuntarily, knocking your hips against the wall before you. “Please. Need you in me. Now.”
The closet smells like dust and old wool and the sharp, metallic tang of your combined sweat. Toby’s still got one hand shoved between your thighs, fingers slick and trembling where they’d just barely started to press inside you—teasing, testing, not enough. Not nearly enough.
You feel the exact second he breaks.
“Toby,” you breathe again, softer, almost a question this time, like you’re checking if he’s still with you.
He groans out and yanks his hand free from your underwear. The sudden emptiness of warmth makes your hips shift and try to chase after the feeling, but before you can even whine about it, he’s fumbling at his own waistband and shoving his boxers and jeans down in one impatient jerk. His cock springs free against the small of your back, already leaking at the tip.
“Gonna b-be quick,” he warns, his voice cracking on the last word. “Gonna be sss-so fucking qui-quick, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t care,” you whine.
“Fuck—fuck—” His voice is shredded. He wraps the same hand that was just messing with you around himself, coating himself in your wetness. The wet sound of it is obscene in the cramped dark. He hisses through his teeth as he pumps his fist. “You’re so gah-goddamn wet, I can’t—shit, I can’t think—”
“Then don’t think. Just—”
He cuts you off with a rough exhale against your neck. His free hand hooks into the crotch of your panties, yanking them aside so hard the fabric bites into your skin for a second before stretching. He angles himself with fumbling urgency, his tip nudging at your entrance and slipping a couple of times before catching just enough to make you both gasp.
“H-Hold still,” he mutters. One hand plants hard on your shoulder, shoving your chest flush to the wall and pinning you there so he can shift your hips and line up properly. You feel the blunt pressure, the stretch starting, but he’s shaking so badly he can’t quite— “C’mon, c’mon, uh-open up for m-me, please—”
You tilt your hips just a fraction, arching your back more. His grip tightens on your shoulder, his fingers digging in and indenting your skin through your shirt.
“Fuck—relax already—”
There.
The head pops past the first tight ring of muscle.
Toby chokes on air, his weight shifting behind you. You’re gasping, your knuckles white against the wall as you grip down, fumbling for your balance before Toby thrusts—
Hard.
One long, relentless shove and he’s buried to the hilt, his hips slamming flush against your ass. The stretch burns in the best way, so full it steals your breath and makes your knees buckle. Toby’s hand drops from your shoulder to under your torso, hauling you up so your back presses against his heaving chest.
“Fuuuck,” he rasps, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His whole body is trembling, his cock throbbing inside you, twitching with his every erratic heartbeat. “God—fu-fuck—y-y-you feel—” He can’t finish the sentence.
You can barely speak with your lungs punched empty. “M-Move,” you manage between whines. “Toby—move, please—”
He doesn’t ease into it—he can’t. Something in him snaps and he starts moving like a dog chasing a rabbit.
It’s messy and sloppy and holds no finesse, just raw, frantic thrusts that knock the breath out of you every time he bottoms out because he’s punching your cervix. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes too loud in the tiny space and you both flinch at it, knowing how thin these walls are, how close the others are, how close He might be.
“Shh—fuck, Toby—” you gasp, biting your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to muffle the moans that want to claw out of your throat.
He’s already shaking his head against your neck, his words coming from grit teeth. “I’m s-sorry—shit, I’m so so-sorry, I can’t—I’m al-already—” Another sharp snap of his hips, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. “G-Gonna come, I’m—fu-fuck, you feel too good—”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, reaching back awkwardly to grab at his hip and urge him deeper. “It’s okay Toby, just—don’t stop. Want you to. Want you to co-come inside me, please—”
His arms snake around your middle, locking you tight against his body and pushing you harder against the closet wall. One hand splays low on your stomach, the other higher, his fingers digging into your ribs as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and starts sucking hard, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.
You arch into it, your head tipping back against his shoulder. “Yeah—like that—fuck, Toby, just like that. You’re so deep, I can feel you so deep—”
He whimpers—actually whimpers—hips stuttering for a second before picking up faster, harder, chasing the praise like it’s oxygen. “Keep—keep talking,” he pants against the fresh bruise he’s worrying into your skin. “Please, fuck, tell me—”
“You’re doing so good,” you whisper, each word punched out in a heave of air every time he thrusts. “Gonna make me come—”
His rhythm falters, then surges in wild, uneven slams. With the movement, your panties start slipping back down, the fabric catching on the base of him and tugging uncomfortably, throwing off his angle just enough to make him growl in frustration.
“Goddamn it—” He yanks one hand free from around your waist and hooks his fingers into the damp cotton, and snags it back to the side hard. The motion jerks your hips backward onto him, forces another inch deeper, and you both choke on disgusting moans.
He doesn’t let go. He keeps the fabric pinned out of the way with white-knuckled fingers while his other arm bands tighter around you, holding you still so he can fuck you even harder—faster.
He keeps those fingers hooked viciously in the crotch of your panties, yanking the fabric so taut it digs into the crease of your thigh, holding everything out of the way while he starts yanking your hips back to meet him. Every pull drags you onto his cock harder, the blunt head slamming right up against your cervix with brutal, punishing force.
A sharp cry rips out of you before you can stop it.
Toby’s hand flies up instantly, clamping over your mouth so hard your head snaps back against his shoulder. His palm tastes like salt. Your moan vibrates against his skin, muffled but still too loud to be safe.
He freezes, his cock buried to the hilt and throbbing angrily inside you.
The closet is suddenly deafening in its silence. Just your ragged panting into his hand, the roar in your ears, and Toby’s labored breathing behind you. Out of your peripheral, you can see him staring at the closet door, waiting for any sign of someone approaching, but it never comes.
He exhales shakily against your ear. “Quiet,” he whispers. “P-Please—fuck, we go-gotta be quiet, I ca-can’t—if He hears—”
You nod frantically under his palm, trying to say I know, I’m sorry, but all that comes out is a pathetic, muffled whimper.
He pulls back just an inch and punches forward, hard enough to knock your chest against the wall. Then again. And again. Short, shallow thrusts ramming right against that spot that makes your vision white out at the edges. He grinds between thrusts, making your insides ache with the press of him.
Your legs shake. Your nails scrape uselessly at the wall. You’re babbling against his hand now, trying to convey information that is barely heard.
“Toby—gonna—fu-fuck, I’m gonna cuh-come—please—”
His other arm bands around your shoulders, locking you tight against his chest to shield you from hitting the wall—or maybe just holding on so he doesn’t fall. Either way, his fingers dig into your collarbones hard enough to make tears well in your eyes.
“Shit—shh-shit, I’m—” His hips stutter, losing what little rhythm he had. “I’m sorry—fuck, I’m s-so sorry, I can’t—I c-ca-can’t hold it—”
One more hard slam. Then another. Then he buries himself as deep as he can go and breaks.
A choked, ugly sob tears out of him as he cums, spilling inside you in thick, hot spurts. His whole body jerks with it, his hips grinding erratically like he’s trying to push even deeper, like he wants to stay here forever. His hand over your mouth trembles wildly, and his forehead drops against the back of your neck.
He keeps twitching inside you long after the last pulse of cum has poured into you, his breath coming in short, shuddering bursts. “I’m so-sorry… I’m sorry… fu-fuck, I’m sorry…”
You let him ride it out. His cock is still half-hard inside you, pulsing weakly with aftershocks, and you clench around him absently as he regains his balance.
But you haven’t come yet. The ache between your legs is sharp and insistent, coiled so tight it hurts.
When he starts to ease out of you slowly, you can’t help the restless little whine that slips out. Your hips jerk back instinctively, trying to keep him buried.
Toby freezes, then lets out a breathless laugh against your shoulder. “Shit—sorry, so-sorry, I got y-you, I got you—”
He doesn’t pull out all the way, but he rocks forward again, sliding back into the slick mess he’s already made. You feel his cum leaking out around him, warm and thick, trickling down your inner thighs. The sensation sends a shiver racing up your spine, making your fingers curl into fists.
“Fuck,” you gasp, your forehead dropping forward against the wall. “Toby—”
“I know, I know,” he murmurs. One arm snakes around your waist again, holding you steady while his other hand slips between your thighs. His fingers find your sensitive clit and start rubbing in tight, firm circles that match the slow grind of his hips.
He buries himself deep again, right up against your cervix, staying there while he works you with those clever, rough fingers. The pressure inside and out is overwhelming, and you can’t help but whine as angle your hips to help him.
“O-Oh, damn—shit, that’s hot,” he whispers right against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it. “Let go for me, swee-sweetheart. I’ve got you. J-Just—fuck, just come on my cock, pl-please. Wanna ff-feel you—”
His slurred words are what tip you over.
Your orgasm hits hard and sudden, ripping through you like static. You pulse around him in frantic waves, walls fluttering and squeezing so tight he hisses through his teeth. Your hand flies down, gripping his hand where it’s pushed between your legs, your nails digging in to stop the relentless circling of his fingers because it’s too much all too quickly.
He doesn’t stop rubbing until your whimpers turn shrill and you start twitching away from him. Only then does he ease off, slowing to gentle strokes while you come down in shuddering gasps.
You’re both panting like you’ve run miles. The closet air feels thicker now, heavy with sweat and sex and the coppery scent of you two.
Toby finally slips out and you feel another warm gush follow, dripping down your legs. You both make the same groaning sound at the same time.
He turns you gently and presses his forehead to yours. His mouth finds yours and you kiss him back just as hard, your hands fumbling between you to drag clothes back into place. You yank your jeans up, your zipper half-done. His belt is still dangling open. Your shirt tugged back down, your panties snapped back over the mess between your thighs.
You’re still catching your breath, still tasting each other, when it hits.
A sharp, searing spike behind your eyes like a needle driven straight through your skull. Static floods your head, loud and angry, drowning out everything else.
You both flinch at the same time, hands flying to your temples. Toby’s grip on your waist tightens painfully and you clutch the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. It affects you a lot worse than it does Toby, but it’s still painful nonetheless.
He’s looking for you.
Toby exhales a shaky curse. “Fuck. Fuck.”
You nod and swallow hard.
He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and kisses you one last time.
Then he pulls back, straightens his hoodie with shaking hands, and reaches for the doorknob.
You both step out into the mansion hallway together. Your clothes are rumpled, your skin is flushed, and the scent of each other is all over you two.
slashers x afab reader | nsfw | what they are like in bed - headcanons
characters : michael myers, ghostface, thomas hewitt, brahms heelshire
cws : vaginal sex, penetration, choking, blood play, knife play, mommy kink, spanking, roleplay, cunnilingus, blow job, stalking, etc. etc. raunchy raunchy stuff here people.
a/n : another dose of headcanons, but this time with slashers! this is a little self indulgent but being snowed in for three plus days will do that to a person lol. anyhow, i hope you guys enjoy my silly little headcanons and feel free to send requests! enjoy babes xoxo
michael myers
this man has so much pent up sexual frustration it's nearly painful. however, he has no clue that he does in fact have certain needs that need to be met until he has sex for the first time. michael has never understood the hype. he's killed and maimed countless people in the middle of the dirty act but never thought to try it for himself. until he met you. then he had a better understanding of those sex crazed teens. suddenly all of the blood in his body seemed to rush to his dick every time he watched you get dressed from outside your window.
definitely took a while for him to actually come to you for sex. at first he would just watch you from outside, buried in the bushes and stroking himself. when he does ask you for sex the first time, it's painfully obvious he has no experience. there is no foreplay, no moments leading up to it. just rough brutal thrusts to go in and relieve some of that tension. it's going to take a good deal of pep talks and deep conversations to get michael to actually take his time with sex.
he's reluctant to try new things, but once you show him the joys of things like choking and blood play? he's all for it. what do you mean he can still get the thrill of a kill all while filling your pretty pussy? it doesn't take much convincing to get him hooked. however, he can easily get carried away with it, driving the tip of his blade just a little too deep- his fingers curling around your throat just a little too tight. it's a fine balance of fear and desire throughout sex with michael. and unfortunately for you, that little glint of terror that gleams in your eyes when he does go too far is something he lives for. he loves that feeling of helpless power.
his sex drive reaches its peak after a fresh kill. something about dripping blood across your pretty skin as he fucks you drives him wild. the adrenaline that courses through him after a hunt causes his stamina to also increase (buckle up babes, you have a lonnnggg night ahead). even after your legs have long stopped working, he's pumping you full. with his size and inhuman strength, he'll use your body like a rag doll. bending and twisting you around to however he sees fit.
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ghostface
definitely one of the most experienced out of the slashers. he knows he's good and he's cocky about it. your relationship would likely start off very transactional. he gets to fuck you and you get to live to enjoy it (a good deal if you ask me). ghostface has a thing for inexperience. he likes the idea of being the one to corrupt you, to reduce you to his little plaything tailored specifically to his needs. he knows just how to get what he wants from you too. giving you just enough to keep dragging you along.
super into kinks. you will never catch this man having anything close to vanilla sex. he likes the shock factor of rough kinks, ones that make you go "did he really just ask me to do that?". so definitely expect the unexpected with him throughout sex. he'll draw his knife along your skin, leaving little beads of blood in its wake. try and resist him and it will only fuel that fire further. he loves watching you squirm, seeing that spark of fear rush through you.
loves seeing you suck his cock and gagging around it. power play is a big thing for ghostface, he enjoys seeing you reduced to a mess before him. it's such a turn on for him when you start crying during sex from the sheer pleasure alone. he will ask you to wear makeup just to watch the mascara run down your cheeks and your lipstick smear all from him. it's a possessive thing. he wants to feel like he owns your heart and your body.
he does have a very high sex drive, almost insatiable. sex isn't a quick thing for ghostface, it's a marathon. this mans stamina is unmatched and he will expect you to try and keep up with it. every round brings a new thrill. he's very big into roleplaying, keeping your adrenaline going through the entire process. he'll have you hide around the house, and god if he gets his hands on you...it's definitely an event you will remember. the more you fight back, the more he wants to shove his cock in your mouth to shut you up. he will have you ruined for anyone else after he's done with you.
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thomas hewitt
has some of the least experience out of all the slashers. he grew up in a very conservative household where sex was considered taboo. now, he's definitely had his curious thoughts. eyes lingering too long on a victim, finding charlie's secret stash of raunchy magazines, etc. so sex isn't entirely foreign to him, it's just not something he is super comfortable expressing and acting on. and then he met you. suddenly those desires became very difficult to try and ignore. you would have to be the one to initiate first. no matter how many times you tell him about your attraction, he still has a level of insecurity.
your first time is surprisingly sweet. thomas was not born with the desire to hurt and kill, it was taught to him. he is very adamant about never laying a hand on you or anyone else in his family. (unless charlie says something that is deserving of it). your first time is filled with affectionate gazes and soft kisses along your bodies. he takes his time with you, allowing you to guide him and show him just how you like to be pleased.
definitely more of a giver than a receiver. sex to him is another way for him to show his commitment to you, he would do just about anything you asked him. he's hesitant to explore kinks, especially ones of a more violent nature. but if it gets your eyes rolling back and his name falling from your lips? he's willing to give it a try. he just wants to take care of you and your greedy little cunt.
his sex drive starts off slow, almost hesitant to come to you multiple times through the day and ask for it. the more comfortable he gets, the more it increases. soon he's bringing you down to the basement to sprawl you across the table and forget about his responsibilities for a little while. his fingertips are grazing over the curve of your ass every time he brushes past you. it's a steady increase in his need for you as time goes on.
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brahms heelshire
this man is practically pouncing on you the moment you give him the okay. there is no hesitation there, just pent up desire. he worships the ground that you walk on and it shows in the way he fucks you. brahms is a switch, just desperate to be in you however he can. he does absolutely love it when you ride him though. he gets to see your pretty face and breasts bouncing as he plunges into you. it's an addicting sight. despite his lack of experience from being trapped in literal walls his entire life, his enthusiasm makes up for it.
he's desperate to please, to earn his keep in your bed. brahms will eat you out for literal days if he can, you have to practically force him away from your cunt once the overstimulation becomes too much. and after that, he's fucking you until the only thing you can think of is how good he feels. he does love it when you take control randomly, pinning him beneath you and using his body like you own it. he can't help but beg and whine and plead for you like this. the name "mommy" would definitely slip out randomly and after that? it would stick.
he's willing to try just about anything at least once. brahms is a simple man with simple desires, that being you. his favorite kinks however are the ones that involve different ways he can bring you pleasure. using various toys to bring pleasure to different parts of your body all at once, leaving territorial hickies along your skin, fucking you in front of a mirror so you can see how pretty you look like this.....he just wants to make you feel good!
his sex drive is rather intimidating. all it takes is you looking at him and he's ready to go three rounds. being trapped without much human contact will do that to a person. you'll definitely have to be the rational one telling him to take breaks and drink water. aftercare is very very important to him as he seeks comfort almost immediately after sex, looking for that reassurance that you aren't going anywhere.
𓌏 He loves marking you, biting, leaving hickeyes, scratches all that stuff. Specifically loves cumming inside you, if not then he’ll cum in your mouth, on your face just to see you get annoyed at him. If he comes on your stomach,face or tits he’s gonna smear it around too.
𓌏 He loves getting degraded. He loves when you tell him how weird and how much of a disgusting perv he is. Loves when you tug on his hair, push him, tell him to stop whining. Enjoys when you make fun of him, but you’re scared to actually hurt his feelings.
𓌏 Switch. If you’ve done too much, he’ll get mad at you he’ll give you a round two and this time you’ll be the pathetic one, he’ll make sure of that. “N-Not so cheeky an-ngh-ymore, hmm? Keep moaning bitch, you like when I’m rough, hm l-little whore?”
𓌏 He loves touching your chest, a lot. He squishes them like some stress toy, loves to lay between them, dreams of fucking them but is too shy to ask. He actually is shy about a lot of things after all he’s been a loser all his life so having a partner is still so new to him.
𓌏 His dirty secret is that he desperately wants one of you on a leash. Yes he’d love to have you with a collar on, on your knees in front of him and tug on it, hearing you whimper and that irritated look on your face. But equally he wants you to hold the leash, have you tug on it and make him moan and twitch. Maybe even call him good boy, he’d be totally into that.
