Notes: this is just over 3k words (haven’t actually counted) of purely self indulgent FILTH that I’ve been working on for a while. Enjoy!!
Warnings: MDNI, implied age gap, implied inexperienced reader, mirror sex, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, implied size kink, voice kink, dry humping that isn’t very dry, squirting, implied d/s dynamics, reference to masochism.
“Myc?”
He did not bristle at the nickname- YN was the only person in the world permitted to shorten his name without receiving a lecture. It was her curious tone that made him raise a brow. But when he gave her his full focus, she looked quickly away. His lips curled into a slight smirk.
“Go on,” he said slowly. “Don’t tease me now, dear,”
“How do you…” his smirk grew wider, but he did not push. He had found that he rarely had to pry to get YN to reveal her thoughts… no matter how flustered it made her. She sighed, feeling heat rise to her face. “How do you… know how to please me?”
Mycroft gave a slight chuckle, setting down his tumbler of scotch. “Because if I give you something you like, you stutter out thanks and look down as though to hide your smile; you’re a terrible giggler when I employ my razor wit; and you-”
“I meant in bed,” she blurted out, looking down at the book in her lap. She wasn’t reading it. He could tell. “How do you always know how… to make me feel good,”
Mycroft’s smirk was almost wolfish. He surveyed her for a moment. “Come here,” he said, not unkindly, but he felt his pulse quicken when she jumped to obey, scurrying over. He patted his knee once, and hummed with appreciation as she settled herself across his broad thigh. “I know how to make you feel good, darling, because I know your body,”
YN frowned. “But… you’ve made me finish… by doing things I didn’t know I liked,” she murmured.
“I have, haven’t I?” He said thoughtfully, his large hand grazing over her thigh. She nodded, her body relaxing against his. “Sex,” he murmured “is a skill… giving pleasure can be mastered through observation, experimentation, and practice.” His low, rumbling voice filled her head, soaking over her like syrup. When she shuddered, he squeezed her thigh. “There, see?” He murmured, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “That minute shudder… that tells me that you like when I lower my voice like this,”
“Yeah,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Look at me, darling,” he said, and at once her eyes pinged open. He chuckled. “Would you like me to tell you everything I have observed?” She nodded. “Then go upstairs. Undress to your underwear. I will join you shortly.”
***
When he entered his bedroom, he let out an appreciative hum. “Very good, YN,” he said, suppressing a smirk as he saw her eyes widen. Praise always flustered her.
“What’s that?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. Mycroft had removed his suit jacket, and in his hands was a large rectangle; he had brought a freestanding mirror with a beautifully carved frame. “Oh,” she murmured as he propped it against the dresser facing his bed.
“Now,” Mycroft murmured, removing his cufflinks. He set the shiny little accessories in their box, before rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing his freckled forearms. He settled himself on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the rug, his legs apart with a large enough gap to fit her between them. “Sit here, sweetheart, facing the mirror… good…”
YN sat where he directed, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. He was fully dressed still, save for his jacket, yet she was clad only in simple black knickers and bra. She kept her legs pressed firmly together, perching on the edge of the bed, folding her arms across her tummy. “Ah, ah, ah,” Mycroft chastised lightly. “Sit right back, YN.” He coaxed her closer, and she shivered as gooseflesh rose on her thighs where the inseam of his smart trousers rubbed against the outsides of her legs. “Lower your arms, now, there’s a good girl…” he cupped her chin gently, turning her head to look directly in the mirror. “You must keep your eyes on yourself,” he instructed. “It is very important for this exercise that you focus on yourself; on your face, on your body. Can you do that for me? Very good.”
Already, her breathing was a little laboured; each exhale was a shaky puff of breath escaping her lips. He wanted to make her pant. That would come soon though, and he was certainly patient enough to wait. “Let’s begin,” he said. Slowly, with featherlight touches, he trailed his very fingertips up her arms. He first stroked the backs of her hands, then her wrists. Then he trailed a little higher… a little more, until he was stroking the full length of her arms, fingertip to shoulder, over and over. He was pleased when he felt her relax a little more against him, her back leaning against his chest. “Do you know what an erogenous zone is, YN?” He murmured, and she nodded uncertainly. “Tell me,”
“It’s… they’re parts of your body that are sensitive… more sensitive- you get aroused when they’re stimulated, like the clit,” she breathed. She was already tumbling over her words from his low voice and light touches alone.
“Excellent,” he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “You provided an excellent example, too. But there are multiple places on your body that have this effect, not just between your legs. Some are rather inconspicuous… your wrists for example…” he felt her pulse flutter beneath his fingertips as he caressed her wrists. “Your neck and ears… especially here,” he said that while pressing his lips to the spot just below and behind her ear and as expected, she melted just that little bit more. “Your breasts and nipples…” his knuckles grazed the edge of her bra, just where it lay against the swell of her breast. “You’re particularly sensitive here,” he murmured, watching her expression as he stroked her hips. “And of course, the genitals are perhaps the most sensitive, would you agree?” She nodded once more, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. She was breathing a little heavier now. “Words,” he prompted.
“Y-yes, Mycroft,” she whispered.
“Good. Now, I have found that foreplay serves to enhance the feeling of release if done correctly. Although you beg very prettily, your most intense orgasms have occurred after at least some foreplay, yes?” She nodded. “And engaging in foreplay has provided ample opportunity to discover the things your body responds well to. Sit forward,” She leant ever so slightly forward, and he unclasped her bra, discarding it beside his feet. “A work of art,” he murmured appreciatively, and he was sure his pupils had dilated further. “Look at yourself, YN. Look how pretty your breasts are. See how they fit perfectly in my hands?”
She shivered as his large hands cupped her breasts, his touch firm, his long fingers sinking into the softness of her flesh. “I have observed that you have rather sensitive nipples,” he murmured, smirking as he saw her gaze transfixed on the reflection of his hands. He brushed his thumbs over her stiffening nipples, circling their circumference. His touch was barely there, but she let out a shaky gasp all the same. He let her relax back against him for a moment or two as he stroked her nipples, before pinching them sharply. At that, she whimpered, the sound dissolving into a moan as she pressed her thighs tight together. “Very sensitive,” he murmured into her ear, nipping at the shell. “You’re pushing into my hands, darling. Craving more?”
“More,” she confirmed, looking over her shoulder to him. “Need more- that felt good,”
He nodded, directing her gaze back to her reflection. She was panting now, her breasts heaving into his palms. He rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, occasionally squeezing just that bit tighter. “I know it felt good,” he told her. “You’re panting. You’re pushing into my touch for more. You’re rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction,” he applied a slight twisting motion to her nipple, smirking at her. “And your reaction to that tells me that perhaps you’re a deviant little minx… perhaps you’d like a little more pain muddled into your pleasure…” her eyes widened and she squirmed a little at the prospect. “Another time, dear, we will explore that…” he promised.
Her eyes were starting to go glassy with pleasure, and she was squirming more and more at his ministrations. “Get rid of these,” he instructed, plucking at her underwear. She lifted her hips somewhat, shuffling the fabric down her thighs, kicking them off her ankles. Mycroft sat a little further back, propping himself up on the pillows. “Lay between my legs, that’s right,” he murmured pressing her back to his chest. This time, however, he guided her legs to hook either side of his, so that she was spread out in front of the mirror, unable to close her legs. She gulped, trying to keep her eyes focused on her reflection as he had instructed, fighting the urge to cover her most intimate parts. “Beautiful,” he reassured. “Such a perfect cunt you have, YN,”
She whined, the sound pathetic, her head tipping back against his shoulder, eyes screwing shut. “YN,” Mycroft said lowly. “Remember my instructions,” She gulped and nodded, murmuring a quick apology before looking at herself in the mirror. She felt the vibration of his chest as he hummed in approval. His hands spread across the expanse of her hips, teasingly close to the space between her pubic mound and upper thigh. “Down here is a treasure trove of erogenous zones,” he informed her. “Your hips, as I mentioned. Your inner thighs…”
“I-I liked when you bit them that time,” she murmured. It had been the first time she had orgasmed from cunnilingus, and before he delved into her cunt, he had kissed and nibbled at her inner thighs. “I thought it would hurt, but it felt good,” she admitted.
“Hmmm,” Mycroft agreed. “I made a note of that,” he informed her. “You made the prettiest sound when I bit them,”
Using his middle fingers on each hand, he stroked either side of her vulva, spreading her open on each upward movement. “Now, this entire area is sensitive, yes?” She nodded quickly, biting her lip. “I want to pay attention here,” he said lowly. With his left hand, he held her labia apart. “Your clitoris, which you identified earlier as a particularly erogenous zone,” he tapped the pad of his right forefinger once against the exposed head of her clit. She whimpered, bucking her hips up. “Ten thousand nerves, all dedicated to your pleasure… do you masturbate, YN?”
Her cheeks heated at the question, but she nodded slowly. “Sometimes,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Show me how you like to pleasure yourself,” he instructed. Her eyes widened. Exhaling shakily, she leant a little further back on his chest, sliding her hand down her body, using two fingers to rub at her clit. Instantly, her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned lowly, finally feeling some friction where her body was screaming for it the most. Mycroft’s eyes darkened, and he almost groaned at the sight. He allowed her a few moments of pleasure before wrapping his hand around her wrist, tugging it away. Though she let him move her hand, she still let out a dejected whine. “Interesting,” he commented. “I notice that you rub to the left of the clitoris, and over the clitoral hood,”
She bit her lip. “It’s… it’s the way I’ve always done it… it works for me,”
Mycroft smiled, and guided her hand up. He took the two fingers that had touched her clit in his mouth, sucking the slight wetness from them briefly. “If it brings you pleasure, then that is good,” he assured her. “However… I have noticed your body responds rather nicely to a more… direct approach. Watch,” he pointed at the mirror. Once more, he spread her pussy lips apart. Slowly, carefully, he dipped the pad of his middle finger lower, collecting some of the building wetness. Slowly, torturously slowly, he smeared the wetness directly on the head of her clit, before beginning to stroke slow, tight circled on the sensitive bud. She practically jumped off the bed, her back arching and her hips squirming, but she could not wriggle away from his touch. Perfect. Moaning and cursing, her eyes squeezed shut, but he leant down and growled in her ear. “Be a good girl and watch me pleasure you,” he commanded. He slid his hand down, relieving her clit for just a moment, before plunging two of his long fingers into her cunt, crooking them just so, the heel of his hand pressing tightly to her clit.
“Fuck, Mycroft!” She cried out, bucking her hips. He barely had to move his hand- she was practically riding it, sitting almost bolt upright, and watching with darkened eyes in the mirror, just as instructed.
“There’s a good girl,” he growled, sitting up with her, wrapping his free arm around her and pressing his hand into her lower tummy, enhancing the sensation of his fingers tenfold. “You’re approaching orgasm,” he informed her. “I can feel it in the way your cunt flutters. In the way your clit spasms against my palm. You’re going to soak my hand, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” She cried out, rolling her hips desperately, rolling her own nipples between her fingers and thumbs, just as he had done before. When she came, she called out his name in a broken cry, her head lolling back against his shoulder as her release coated his fingers and palm.
Shaking, whimpering, she fell back against his chest, and soon she pushed weakly at his hand. He chuckled darkly, rubbing her through a few more aftershocks before he let up. He offered her his soaked palm, biting back a growl as she licked and slurped at her own release, cleaning off his hand. “Very good,” he told her, turning her head to press his lips to hers. She whimpered into his mouth, unhooking her legs from over his and turning over onto her belly. He helped her up his body until she was straddling him, her soaked cunt humping against the straining fly of his expensive suit trousers. “YN,” he groaned, tugging her head back by her hair. Her name rolled beautifully off his tongue, and she moaned at the low sound of his voice, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his waistcoat, tutting impatiently. That made him smile. He closed his hands around her wrists, his thumbs stroking soothingly over her pulse points. “Patience is a virtue, dear,” he chastised lightly, and he shifted her off him, leaving her trembling on the bed.
He stood, untying his tie, the silk rasping against his pale hands. His pocket watch was set on the nightstand- that he didn’t put it away properly was indication of his own urgency despite his composure. His waistcoat was discarded on the growing pile of clothes on the floor, his sleeve garters placed next to his watch. He shrugged off his braces, his eyes never leaving hers, before unbuttoning his shirt. Somehow, Mycroft Holmes was able to look dignified shirtless with his braces hanging at his sides, with a stain of slick on his crotch. YN gulped, her fingers drifting between her legs. She was stroking herself the way he had done before, her hips rocking up to the stimulation. Mycroft hummed appreciatively. “You learn quickly, darling,” he said, undoing his fly. When he was completely nude, he knelt between her thighs, his thick cock jutting out proudly.
She was slick enough for him to slip between her lips, the head of his cock brushing precisely against her clit before he pushed into her. His lips curled into a pleasured snarl as he gritted his teeth. “Perfect,” he gritted out, his hands splaying over her thighs as he pulled her tighter to him, sheathing himself fully to the hilt. She squealed at the delicious intrusion, wrapping her legs around his hips, her heels pressing into his lower back. He laid his body over hers, her breasts pressed against his chest, his pale chest hair scratching against her peaked nipples. “Move,” she begged, her voice pitched just that little bit higher. “Please,” she breathed. Who was he to deny her when she asked so very politely?
Though his movements were not fast and frenzied, they were no less intense, his eyes scanning over her face rapidly as he gauged her reaction to each firm, deep thrust. He smirked with satisfaction when he angled her hips just a little higher, and in return received a gasp, her eyes flying open. She was losing herself, and even the most ignorant fool could see it. Her thighs were clamped around his waist, her nails leaving little crescent shaped grooves at his shoulder blades. Her forehead was damp with sweat, and her lips were parted and swollen from his kisses, the most disgraceful curses falling from them. “Look at me,” he growled, one hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers pressing into her scalp, tangling in the hair there. “I want to watch you lose control. You’re going to, aren’t you sweetheart? You’re going to come all over my cock, like the good girl I know you are. I can tell. I can tell by your breathing, by that doe-eyed little expression, by the way your cunt is squeezing me… that’s my perfect girl- that’s it- good!” 
She cried out as her orgasm crashed over her, her eyes rolling back, head thrashing from side to side as wetness bloomed at the juncture of their bodies. She was practically sobbing his name. He finally allowed himself his own release, pressing himself impossibly deeper as he filled her, letting out his own unrestrained shout of pleasure.
Breathless, his own cheeks flushed pink, he rolled them so that she was lying on his chest, still full to bursting of his cock and cum. She shuddered and whimpered, the movement stimulating her further, but he shushed her, wrapping his arms around her body and rubbing soothing circles on her back. “You did perfectly, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair, smiling when she snuggled closer. He could feel himself softening and slipping out of her. “Perfect,” he repeated.
“Felt good,” she whispered. “So good,” she nuzzled closer to him, her lips grazing over his heart.
“Excellent,” he said with a soft smile. “And have you discovered what makes you feel good?” She nodded against his chest and his smile grew. He tilted her face up to face him, kissing her gently. “Marvellous,” he murmured against her lips.
Follow @fandom-puff-library and turn on post notifications.
Summary: When Anthea sends a coded message mid-foreplay, Mycroft Holmes insists on dictating the response—without removing his mouth from between your thighs. Precision, after all, is a form of dominance.
Pairing: Mycroft Holmes × Fem! Reader
Warnings: Smut
Author's Notes: Based on The Taste of Restraint.
Also read on Ao3
The sheets were warm. Heavy. Draped over your lower half like a cocoon, muffling sound and scent and sensation into something darker, more primal. Only your shoulders and head peeked out from the duvet. The rest of you—your thighs, your hips, your cunt—was beneath it. And so was he.
Mycroft Holmes, the man who could bring entire governments to their knees with a phone call, was between your legs with devastating focus.
His hands held your thighs apart with calm authority, thumbs anchored at the creases where your hips met bone. His tongue moved with that same brutal precision he applied to everything else—methodical, relentless, maddening. Every flick, every suction, every deliberate sweep was done like he was solving you. Like he’d memorized your anatomy in blueprints and was now executing a field operation.
You gasped when he flattened his tongue and dragged it upward in one long, slow stroke—only to pause and press his mouth to your clit with a low hum that reverberated deep through your core.
And then—buzz.
The phone.
On the bedside table.
Mycroft didn’t stop.
Didn’t even lift his head.
His hand, still resting over your lower belly, tightened slightly—pressing down in that subtle, possessive way he’d developed the first time he realized he could feel the way your body clenched around nothing when he applied pressure. Like he knew what was coming. Like he was holding it in place. Delaying it. Commanding it.
Buzz.
“Mycroft,” you whimpered, hips twitching as his tongue made another maddening circle.
“Answer it,” he said from beneath the covers, voice muffled but unmistakably steady. “It could be urgent.”
You whimpered. “Can’t you—just—”
“I’m not stopping,” he murmured, mouth brushing your slick folds with every word. “But I want you to read it.”
You blinked, breath catching.
“You want me to—what?”
The duvet shifted, and his voice me again—quiet, warm, amused.
“My password is Triskelion-4-Echo. Capital T.”
You stared at the phone, the lock screen glowing faintly in the low light.
Mycroft Holmes had just given you the password to his phone.
And then gone back to eating you out like it was a footnote.
You were too stunned to move at first. Trust, for Mycroft, was a complicated thing. He didn’t give it. Not easily. Not freely. And certainly not when it involved his device—the one that held the pulse of half a dozen national agencies and enough blackmail to set fire to Parliament if he so chose.
Your cunt fluttered helplessly around nothing, and you whimpered again, trembling fingers reaching for the phone.
“Now,” he said, his tongue flicking just beneath your clit like punctuation.
You unlocked it.
The interface was sterile. Efficient. Barely customized. He had one wallpaper—a minimalist rendering of the Union Jack—and fewer apps than a retired bishop.
You squinted, your brain scrambling to make sense of the phrases.
“It’s from Anthea,” you managed, your voice breaking on the last syllable as Mycroft drew your clit into his mouth and sucked.
“Read it,” he murmured against you.
You did.
Haltingly. Voice shaking. Every word stammered out as he licked into you again—slow and thorough—dragging pleasure up your spine like he was testing how well you could speak with his mouth replacing your thoughts.
“Tulip requests iron tea—nine twenty-six—green-red—blackbird sings—ETA?”
There was a pause.
Then Mycroft hummed in contemplation.
Not sexual.
Not teasing.
Just thinking.
His tongue didn’t stop.
Of course it didn’t.
“Mm. She’s moving the Prague asset early,” he said absently, sliding one hand lower to gently press a finger into you while his mouth stayed on your clit. “I told her to delay until Monday.”
You arched off the bed, sobbing his name.
“Mycroft—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, his voice a feather-soft blade as he curled his finger and flicked his tongue in perfect tandem. “You will.”
You gripped the edge of the mattress with white knuckles, phone still clutched in your hand, the message glowing in your peripheral vision like some holy relic.
He trusted you.
Not just with his body.
With this. With that.
With everything.
And he hadn’t stopped.
In fact, he’d only intensified.
The sheets were still half-draped over your hips, but the part covering his head had been pulled back just long enough for him to murmur, "Reply. Dictate this precisely." His voice had been devastatingly calm. Steady. Like he wasn’t halfway buried between your legs with your thighs shaking against his ears.
You had gaped at him, eyes wide, cunt fluttering helplessly as your grip tightened on his phone. “I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he’d murmured, not unkindly. “Anthea is waiting.”
And then, in his voice—cool, exacting, maddeningly composed—he began to dictate:
"Proceed IRON. TULIP confirm RED. Keep singing. ETA now 09.42. Use window."
You typed with fingers that barely obeyed you, your lower half spasming as he resumed—no, doubled down—on his efforts. His mouth moved with surgical precision, tongue slow, then quick, then slow again. A rhythm designed to disarm. To fracture. To control.
The kind of precision only Mycroft Holmes could maintain while issuing covert clearance codes mid-cunnilingus.
Just as you were about to press send, he paused.
Lifted the sheet off his head again.
His dark hair was slightly mussed, lips slick, eyes sharp and glittering with calculation. He looked at the message. Then up at you.
“Do not misspell ‘proceed.’ Or ‘confirm.’ If Anthea sees a typo, she’ll assume I’ve been compromised and activate the Burn Protocol.”
You blinked at him.
He blinked back.
“I’m—" you croaked. “I’m being eaten alive.”
“Yes,” he said simply, his fingers now stroking softly along your inner thighs. “Do focus.”
You stared at him.
And he—without breaking eye contact—smirked. Just barely. Enough to make your blood fizz.
And then, without another word, Mycroft pulled the sheet back over his head and resumed.
With enthusiasm.
You whimpered, voice cracking. “You—bastard—”
The only reply was his tongue flattening against your clit, followed by a pointed swirl that made your hips twitch clean off the mattress.
He was ruthless. Not hurried, not hasty—but relentless. Intent on making you fall apart while your thumbs hovered over a piece of encrypted communication that could destabilize an entire operation.
You forced your vision to focus on the screen again, blinking hard as you read over the message.
Proceed IRON. TULIP confirm RED. Keep singing. ETA now 09.42. Use window.
Your fingers hovered over send.
And then he sucked.
Not lightly. Not teasing.
Possessively.
You screamed—half into the pillow, half into the air—and your thumb hit the screen almost by reflex.
Message sent.
You collapsed back into the sheets, body trembling, the phone falling from your hand and landing somewhere on the duvet.
Beneath the blanket, Mycroft exhaled a soft sound—barely audible—but you could feel the pride in it. The smugness.
And then he spoke, lips brushing your soaked folds.
“You taste sweet,” he murmured, tone scholarly now. “Like your lips. Possibly sweeter.”
You whimpered, twitching.
“Must be the fruit,” he mused, almost clinically. “You’ve eaten nothing but peaches and nectarines for a week. I’ve been waiting to see if it would affect your—”
You kicked under the covers, gasping, “Mycroft—stop analyzing—”
He laughed.
Soft.
Maddening.
And then licked again.
Slow.
Languid.
Possessive.
You shoved the sheet off his head in fury—grabbing a handful of his dark hair—and glared down at him.
He looked up at you from between your legs, still poised, composed, that single arched eyebrow lifting as if to say, Yes?
“You’re evil,” you hissed.
“And yet,” he murmured, his voice dragging over your skin, “you’re about to come on my face again.”
You didn’t get a chance to argue.
Not when his mouth closed around your clit again—low, precise, demanding.
Before you started dating, you had seen Skull and Bulk around school and knew how close they were, rarely without each other - if ever. But it wasn't until you began to date that you noticed just how much Bulk bossed Skull around or insulted him in one day. You knew how much the comments affected Skull although he never showed it unless you urged him to talk about it.
You knew when you started dating Skull, that Bulk was a package deal, but you never fully realized how much of your time with Skull was interrupted by Bulk until one day you were eating lunch together and Bulk insisted Skull shared his lunch with him, ordering him to scoot over on the bench. You stared at the boys in front of you in disbelief as Bulk took Skull's tray, stealing his lunch.
"Give it back." You said sternly.
Bulk glanced at Skull who looked between you both nervously. "What did you say?"
"I said give him back his lunch. Now." You stood up, placing your hands on the table, unfazed by the attention you had earned. Bulk pushed the tray to the side and it slid off the table. You glared at him when he stood up, matching your stance.
"Listen, missy -"
"T-Take it easy, Bulk. She didn't mean anything by it." Skull awkwardly tried to defuse the situation.
"I don't like you." You said plainly.
"I don't like you either." Bulk agreed.
"I don't like how you treat him."
"Aw, that's so cute. Your girlfriend fights your battles, does she?" Bulk chuckled, slapping Skull on the shoulder.
"No, of course not, Bulk -" Skull laughed nervously.
"You're nothing but a bully. You make him do things he doesn't want to do and mock him constantly. Yet you claim to be best friends."
"We are best friends, honey. So why don't you go over there and sit with the other losers?"
"If they are your definition of losers, then I'll gladly sit beside them to avoid the stench of stupidity." You took your bag and Skull inwardly groaned when you left.
Later that day you were in the music room, practicing on the violin when Skull entered, checking no one had seen him. You glanced at him with a sigh, knowing he was afraid of losing his image. You placed the violin back in the case and he smiled, not picking up on your mood yet as he walked over to you.
"Hey, you're sounding great." He said.
"Thanks." You smiled faintly, picking up your case and heading to the door.
"Wait," Skull turned, catching your arm. "What's wrong?"
"Why do you let him talk to you the way he does?" You asked.
"Bulk? We've been friends for a long time, you know that. That's just how he is."
"And me? He dismissed me and you didn't do anything about it." You said, tears forming in your eyes. Skull opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke before he could. "It's him or me, Eugene."
"Babe -" He chuckled nervously.
"I mean it." You walked away and Skull frowned when you left him alone, dropping his hand to his side.
After a few minutes, he walked out of the music room, not caring who saw him leave as he walked down the hallway, in a state of shock. Bulk approached him when he saw him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, there you are. Listen I've got an idea. Why don't we go -"
"I think Y/N is breaking up with me."
"You dodged a bullet." Bulk told him with a laugh. "Anyway, if we -"
Skull shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, looking at Bulk in annoyance and disbelief. "You don't get it, do you? I really like her. But you treat her l-like crap."
"Take it easy, Skull."
"No. Because she told me to choose. Her or you."
"And you choose me. Wise decision." Bulk grinned. "There's plenty of other babes in sch-"
"I don't want another 'babe'," Skull said, making air quotes with his fingers. "Just her. She cares about me. I've never had someone who cares about what I want. I don't like how you treat her. Or how you treat me. I'm sorry, Bulk, but if I have to choose....I choose her."
"Skull..."
"I'm sorry." Skull sighed as he walked away to find you.
Bulk frowned as he watched him leave, before noticing the stares he was receiving in the hallway. "What are you looking at?" People averted their eyes and Bulk walked away, needing time to think.
You were standing at your locker when Bulk approached you, closing your locker. You raised an eyebrow at him.
"How about we make a deal? I get Skull Monday to Saturday and you get him for an hour on Sunday." He bargained.
You scoffed, starting to walk away.
"Okay! Okay! How about I get Skull Monday to Friday and you get him on weekends?" Bulk offered.
"No." You shot down, walking into class.
Bulk followed, taking the seat beside you. "Okay, how about Monday to Saturday and you get him for a full day on Sunday?"
You pretended to think about it, before looking at him. "No."
"Bulk, you don't take this class." The teacher pointed to the door and Bulk reluctantly left.
Later, you were walking away from school grounds, talking to Katherine who assured you that you were doing the right thing, not just for you, but for Skull as well. She agreed that it was time he stood up for himself.
"Y/N?"
You turned, looking at Skull when he cleared his throat. "I just want you to know that...I choose you."
You smiled softly, rushing forward to hug him. As he buried his head in your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you, he knew he made the right decision.
For the remainder of the week, Bulk observed from a distance, as you and Skull spent time together. During the weekend he did a lot of reflecting and realized just how happy you made Skull. And he realized he shouldn't have tried to come between you.
The following Monday, you were standing at your locker, talking to Skull about the upcoming music concert when Bulk appeared.
"Uh, hey."
You glanced at Skull who was equally surprised as you were.
"Hey, Bulk." Skull greeted him while you closed your locker, standing next to him.
"I've been doing some thinkin' and...you were right. I said some things that I shouldn't have and I just wanted to say...I'm sorry." He said. "You're dating my best friend and I should have respected that. Truth is, I think you're great together."
"Thank you." You said softly.
"Yeah, thanks, Bulk," Skull said, watching his friend turn away, feeling saddened that their lifelong friendship was coming to an end.
You nudged his arm with your elbow and Skull looked at you. "Go after him."
"Really?" He tried not to look too hopeful but you nodded and he grinned, kissing your cheek before walking towards Bulk. "Hey, Bulk!"
Bulk turned around and Skull stood in front of him. "Wanna grab some lunch?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."
You smiled when the two hugged and rolled your eyes fondly when they laughed together. You started walking to lunch, feeling Skull's arm around your shoulders moments later as he quickly caught up to you.
While the two caught up about their weekend, you realized that despite your earlier assumptions, Bulk did care about Skull, he just didn't show it in a way you'd expect. But when faced with losing his best friend, he had swallowed his pride and apologized.
You watched the duo as they animatedly spoke to each other, shaking your head when they high-fived, coming up with another scheme. They paused, looking at you and you rolled your eyes, nodding.
Skull grinned, putting his arm around you. "See, Bulk, I told you she was great."
"Yeah, she's alright I guess." You playfully threw a fry at him and Skull chuckled when Bulk retaliated.
The duo got an idea and grinned, "Food fight!"
You squealed when Bulk threw a handful of fries at you and you stood up in shock. Skull became nervous that another fight was about to start, but when you poured your smoothie over Bulk's head he laughed, nearly falling out of his chair. Bulk threw his burger at him and Skull threw his muffin at his head.
You squealed when food threw past your table, other students joining in and you moved away, seeking refuge underneath the table. Skull and Bulk followed suit, and the three of you shared a look before bursting into laughter.
Romance - Finney Blake (Age Up) X Reader
Rating - 18+ (Stripping / Bed Sharing / Nudity / Erections / Fingering / Squiting / Cum tasting / Nipple Play / Ordering / Spanking / Dirty Talk / 'Kitten' As Pet Name / Mentions of Cock Warming)
Reading Time - 19 min 32 sec (2538)
The snowstorm continued almost with aggression, the wind howled like a pack of rabid wolves, snow fell in thick and heavy bursts forming piles against even the smallest surface that could hold it, the whole camp looking like it had been draped by a frozen cotton sheet. The place was closed, of course, given the intensity of the storm, the owners sealed themselves up in the cabin they called home. As well as Armando up in the working office, still trying to get word to those beyond the storm. Given the need to conserve power, food and fuel, Gwen, Ernesto, Finney and Y/n had all been put in one cabin.
The Cabin had been sealed tighter than the Pentagon, a lock on every door. They had even sealed the interior doors just to have some hope of keeping the heat contained. Given Gwen’s sleepwalking, she was given the small room, no windows, one door, basically a glorified closet with a bunk bed and a heater inside. But of course, Ernesto had snuck inside, his excuse being to keep her warm, and that he was the lightest sleeper so would be stirred if she left his arms.
Which left Y/n and Finney in the next room, he had taken a bottom bunk on one side, and she’d taken a top bunk across the other. A single window showed the intensity of the storm beyond their wooden walls, and the red glow of the heater on full blast was all that lit them.
But it wasn’t late into the night that Y/n climbed from the bed, she pushed the rough covers to the side and patted her bare feet down the wooden ladder, until she hit the cabin floor, flinching at the cold of the floor. Her bare legs swished as she stepped, her little red shorts with white piping on the hems ridden up from being laid down. She tugged on the hem of her blue and white softball team T-shirt, pulling it down a little more, before she scratched her head a little, poking her fingers into her bun. She moved silently and swiftly across the cabin to Finney’s bunk.
There he lay on his back, staring up at the springs and slats of the top bunk, his orange headphones on his ears, playing his tape for the hundredth time already tonight, his grey sweatshirt and sweatpants covered mostly by his sheets with only his white socks poking out since he was too long for the bunk. Her approach made him glance over, bringing down his headphones to around his neck and clicking off his music,
“Hey?” Finney raised a brow,
But Y/n just grabbed the covers and pulled them up, slipping her body under them as she climbed into the bunk with him,
He laughed a little and shifted over to make space for her in the single bed. He smirked softly and simply tossed his music to the table beside the bunk and wrapped his arms around Y/n, pulling her into his chest so they could share his pillow, noses a few inches apart. “Comfy, Y/n?”
“Shut up, Finn,” She muttered, “I was cold.” She said as she nuzzled a little closer,
“Mhm… sure, cold.” He nodded smugly, “Not at all that you wanted a cuddle.”
“Shut. Up,” she said, rubbing her nose on his sternum,
He smirked and pulled her a little closer, his hand sliding down to stroke over her warm, smooth thigh, “Seems pretty warm to me?” he smugly chuckled,
She mumbled something he couldn’t make out and squirmed her legs,
He simply let his hand slide higher, his finger tips brushing over her goosebumps and the white piping on her shorts, “Shhh… relax, Y/n,” He whispered, keeping his voice soft and smooth,
“I’m tired…” She whined in mock protest,
“I bet you are… very tired,” he teased her, sliding his hand higher, moving to the waistband of her little red shorts and sliding his hand under them, his fingers instantly met the soft, thin white cotton of her panties as they lay tight against her most sensitive skin.
She blushed hard and squirmed as she nuzzled her nose even deeper,
He scoffed, “awww, C’mon, you know the price of my bed.”
“We’re not in your bed.”
“No… but the price of a bunk is the same.” He purred as his fingers rubbed over her mound through her panties, his thumb purposely stroking the waistband to tease her more, his other arm tightened around her waist so she couldn’t just wiggle away, “And you’re the one who came crawling into my bunk, Kitten.”
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to take my shorts off.” She whispered, wiggling her hips against him,
He scoffed and pulled her a little closer, “No? You should be more clear then, Y/n. I think everything is an invitation to take your shorts off.” he smirked, “C’mon, let’s get you out of these.” he whispered as he began to roll down her shorts, leaving them around her knees.
She kicked her feet and whimpered sofly, “Finn… that’s not fair…”
“Don’t make me the bad guy, just because you're pouting.” He growled, his fingers trailing over her panties more purposefully and intensely with each rub and stroke, leaning his head down to kiss her jaw,
She whined softly, her fingers finding small grips in his sweatshirt and nuzzling her blushing face against him.
“That’s it… good girl…” he cooed, as he began to circle her clit, “Shhh… that’s it, kitten… You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it when I touch you like this.” he said as he began tugging down her panties leaving them with her shorts, he wasted no time sliding his hand back up to meet her slick folds with a dark chuckle, “Awww… there it is, you can’t even hide how much you want this.” he growled sliding his knee between her thighs so she was trapped in this position,
Y/n shivered, now completely naked under the covers, and even if she was pressed tight against Finney, her softball t-shirt was doing a poor job of concealing her nipples, which had peaked from both the cold and her arousal. She nuzzled closer, terrified of being seen. Her breath hitched the more he touched her, squeezing her eyes closed.
Finney’s smirk only widened, kissing her jaw and neck as he basked in her tremors in the red light of the heaters, “Ummm… that’s my good girl, such a good kitten,” he mumbled against her skin as his other hand came around to brush his thumb over her nipple making sure he slowly dragged his fingers between her now soaked lips at the same moment, “You’re gonna be real quiet for me, aren’t you?”
She moaned but managed a nod as he rubbed circles on her clit, already dripping down her thighs,
“Ughh-” he moaned, “Look at you. So soaked and we only just started,” he growled, as he pinched her nipple hard and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. At that same moment, his other hand shoved a finger inside her,
Which tipped her over the edge, she bit down on his sweatshirt to keep her moans quiet and trembled as she felt her orgasm. It was only small and short, but it was enough to make him endlessly smug,
“Fuck-” he cursed, thrusting his finger and working into her little helpless spasms of pleasure, “That’s it, kitten.”
She bit down harder to stop her moans, his thrusts, he rubbed on her clit with his thumb, pinched her nipple and kissed her neck, leaving her utterly overstimulated putty.
He knew he was getting so hard and kept up his fingers no matter how tired his hands were getting, “Listen to you… You sound so good, and you feel so damn tight… I bet you’ll cum again if I keep going?” He smirked, shoving a second finger inside her and listening to the squelch of soaked flesh,
She moaned, almost teary as he got faster, already feeling a second building,
“Yeah? Awwww, you wanna cum? Am I making my Kitten’s Pussy feel too good for her to control herself?” He teased her,
Y/n whimpered, already squirting down his fingers, as she danced along the needy edge,
“Fuck yeah- That’s it…” he growled, gathering all her wetness on his fingers for lubrication and shoving four inside her, while his thumb worked fast and hard, “You are dripping for me, and I bet you’ll want it all night, won’t you? Humm… my Kitten is so greedy, and dirty.” He teasted her as he kissed her neck more forcefully before he whispered in her ear, “Should I show you a little mercy? Or should I just stuff your little leaking pussy until you cum?”
Which was enough to tip her over, her eyes rolled back, and she saw stars, her body trembling and bucking towards his hand, clenching around his fingers and soaking both her legs and his hand with squirt, her legs kicked, and her toes curled as she moaned loudly.
“Ughh- Ummmmm.” he cursed, his breath hitching at the sight of her, before he chuckled and growled in her ear, as he made sure to keep his hand going to milk every last drop of her pleasure, “So messy… I bet you’d ruin my sweatpants if I fucked this pretty pussy raw like this.” He said, thrusting with each word,
But she collapsed against him, panting hard, and unable to form words,
“You are too damn cute like this, you know that, Kitten?” He purred as he helped her to lie down on her back, before he pulled out his fingers and brought them to his lips, he licked them slowly and delicately, making sure the sound of his lapping was audible, “You are so needy… so messy… and dirty… Ummm, you make me wanna do so many… filthy things to you like this. Makes me very poesseivee over my little kitten.” he said as he cupped her flushed face, and looked at her.
She lay on her back, on the small single mattress of his bottom bunk, panting, her chest heaving, with her hard nipples poking through her softball t-shirt, the bottom hem up under her chest to expose her bare stomach. From the waist down, completely naked, skin glistening and flowing, her pussy out and clit swollen. Her shorts and panties lay around her knees, wet from her squirt. She managed to meet his eyes but was far too woozy to respond with words, so she puckered her lips,
Finney chuckled and shifted his body to lie over hers, a predatory look in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her, hungrily, his tongue taking hers without much debate until he broke the kiss and sat up and ran his hand from her jaw, down her body, “you make a very pretty picture like this…” he said as he leant over her, and grabbed the small polaoid camera he had on his table bedside his music, he very quickly snapped a picture of her, and grabbed the photo as it spat out. Shaking it in his hand as it developed,
“Finney…” She whimpered, hiding her blushing face in humiliation,
“Don’t be embarrassed, you look so pretty, kitten. I just wanna make sure I can see you like this when I want to.” he growled adjusting her slightly he grabbed her thigh and pulled it up and apart better exposing her soaked pussy, he shocked her t-shirt up around her neck to expose her bare breasts, and snapped another picture before she could protest, “Ohh yeah… a good shot of that messy little cunt,”
“What will you do with them?” She asked,
“Keep them, in my personal connection back home,” he smirked, setting the camera back on the table and the pictures beside it, “I have some very nice ones in a book under my pillow… from the last time you came over and wanted to snuggle,” he smirked, kissing down her sternum,
“The last time?”
“Yeah, you’re little butterfly panties.”
“Ohh…” she whined, “I remember.”
He chuckled, “Good girl…” he pulled back and kissed her one last time on her collar, “Turn over. On your knees.”
Y/n blushed but obeyed without question. She flipped her body over, laying her face against the pillow and her knees on the bed, putting her hips up. Her ass was fully in the air, with her pussy exposed, her shorts and panties still around her knees.
Finney’s breath hitched as he looked her over, his hand rubbing over the curve of her ass, “Look at you… so egar… spread out like this,” He growled before he gave one cheek a hard smack, watching as her flesh jiggled,
She flinched but bit her bottom lip so she wouldn’t make a noise,
“Awwww… so cute,” He teased, “You’re just gonna whimper and take it? I bet you’d let me do anything I wanted to you like this… wouldn’t you, Kitten?”
“Finney…” she whimpered as both a second and third slap landed, making her flinch both times,
“Adorable.” He smirked down at her, watching her ass turn red, “So jumpy…” he said, giving her a fourth smack, “I bet… you’d whimper even louder.” He growled, “If I spanked this little pussy too,” he said, running his hand down between her folds and teasing her with his slow strokes,
She moaned the second he touched her, already dripping down his fingers,
“Oooohh yeah, Fuck- That’s my good girl.” He growled, “You are so pretty like this kitten, so needy. Can’t get enough of me, huh? Can’t get enough of me touching your pretty body like your pussy is my own little toy?”
“Finney…” she begged, “Inside… please,”
He raised a brow and smirked widely, “Awwww… what a cute little plea,” he purred as he rubbed her swollen clit, “You want something inside you? Hu? You want something in here?” he asked, keeping his fingers rubbing her clit while his other hand came to tease her dripping pussy,
“Yes… Please… Something big…” She begged,
“Something big?” He growled, pulling his hands back and shoving down his sweatpants, taking his hard cock in hand since he hadn’t worn boxers, “You mean… this?” he asked as he brushed the tip over her clit, watching as she bucked,
“Mhm… Yes… please… Please, Finney,” She gasped,
“Beg.” He ordered,
“Please… Finney…” she whined, “You’re kitten’s pussy is so empty,”
“Fuck-” he cursed, holding himself back from shoving in, “So empty hu?” he asked, rubbing his head against her clit to give them both as much pleasure as possible without him slipping inside, “I bet you would cry like a baby if I shoved my cock inside you… and just left it there all night,”
She whimpered, her hips trembling at the thought,
“I bet your cute pussy would be weeping all night, if I cockwarmed you till morning.” He growled, “Or do you just want me to stuff you full and fill you up so you can sleep nice and warm with my cum dripping out of you?”
“Filled… please…” She begged, “Nice and warm…” she panted,
“Good girl,” he growled, “Turn over, kitten. Lie on your back. I wanna watch your face when I pound that pretty pussy.” He smirked, giving her ass one final slap,
“Yes, Finney,” she obeyed, flipping onto her back and opening her legs.
A/N: this is my like second time writing a fic or something like that . General consensus is that reader is Albert’s young , pretty , unassuming housewife . But it becomes apparent that she’s almost just as strange as he .
CW: Implied Age gap (pretty large ..) , stalking (two-sided but one is definitely more than the other), reader likes Albert’s personal space (especially when he’s sleeping .) , “Y/N” isn’t used . Implied smut but not written .
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
For a while , people nagged Albert about his single status . “I’m sure you’ll find a pretty little thing !” One of his coworkers insist . Another scoffs “Can’t be picky nowadays, you’re half a century old ! Just about .” Right , he wasn’t getting much younger , not at all . Al shook his head , grimacing at his coworkers statements before going back to restocking and lifting the more heavier products in that hardware store . Well , he has one thing going . The good amount of muscle he gets from his physical labor . That counts for something , no ?
Most stores are closed after Albert’s shift is done , expect for the nearby grocery store , he was running low on a couple of things so he decided to stop by and pick them up before going home . So , it was there , in the fresh produce isle he picked out a couple greens . Surprisingly , he wasn’t a big fan of fruit . The occasional strawberry was nice but he liked his veggies much more . As he reached for some spinach , he thought he heard some sort of camera click and a girlish giggle . He immediately turns but .. No one . ‘Jesus .. Ive gotta be tired as hell to be hearing things . Let’s make this quick ..’ He thought to himself . Quickly grabbing his veggies and finding his other stuff and checking out , finally going back home . Left to think about that odd click , that odd sound of excitement behind him .
For the past few days , he started to notice a certain little being . A young girl , in her early twenties maybe ? Pretty , dressed all nice in a white babydoll dress with a ribbon tied in a pretty bow around her neck . Like a lamb .
A very tempting lamb .
A camera sat in her hands as she took pretty photos of the setting sun . He couldn’t help but stare before he remembered he had a shift that night . Might as well get a nap in before he goes ?— Click ! Click ? Al immediately turned back to look , seeing the girls camera pointed in his direction . She immediately lowers it , her eyes wide as she saw he noticed , face pale as she just waved to him with an anxious smile . Before he could wave back , she turned away . He knew he’d see her again . He’s been seeing her around wherever he went for a while . It was so strange . But it was a small town . Familiar faces everywhere but hers ? Hers especially .
As time went on . He saw her more . More . More . More . Until he had the courage to finally speak to her , she was a pretty little thing , young with tired eyes and a modest style that still allured him . He couldn’t help it , he asked her out on the spot ! To his surprise .. She accepted . And so , for months Albert and his girl were practically inseparable , so much so he convinced her (which wasn’t too hard anyway) to move in with him . Assuring her that he was very stable financially and would take care of her in any way she needed or wanted . In return , she would be his housewife , no job , just do chores around the house and be at his beck and call when needed . This would turn out to be somewhat of a good plan . Though , Albert soon realized that his little bunny was … Definitely strange .
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
It was finally break time for Al before he went to the back to enjoy the lunch his girl made him that morning . Something unique about it , was the notes she would leave as if he were a little kid . But these ones were .. very confident .
You looked so peaceful last night , I hope you didn’t mind the lip prints I made on you my love ! Too handsome to resist , I’m sorry . I hope you have a good day at work .
Al smirked to himself at the note , no wonder why there were red marks of lipstick left on his shoulders and chest . Unsettling to others but absolutely adorable to him . The thought of her showering him in kisses gave him a chill up his spine , a slow , measured sigh left his lips before he pulled himself out of the gutter and decided ‘Hey , I need to eat now .’
At home he’d arrive , yawing n stretching as he heard his old bones pop n crack . There , in the kitchen he could here the gentle clatter and movement of the pots and pans . Ah yes , what a sweet girl she is getting dinner all ready for him . With a content smile , Albert would stride into the kitchen n watch as his girl gracefully put together the meal . Mashed potato’s and a tender steak with some greens he’d bought the other day . With a grin , he made the motion of holding a camera and hitting the shutter button “Click !” He muttered , starling the once focused girl . She turned , eyes wide and nervous but that look of surprise turns to one of glee and affection . “Al ! Oh .. You scared me hon’” She said , fixing her hair . Albert could only grin with mischievous glee as he brought her close , her face now in his hands as her pretty cheeks were gently squished in his palms . “Such a frightful sweetheart aren’t you ?” He chuckled , planting a small but long kiss on her forehead . Oh , what a pleasure it was to have this strange little thing being his .
Al sat with his girl at dinner , but in all honestly he wasn’t very hungry . Not for steak and asparagus anyway … He stared at his girl as she ate , dark thoughts running through his head as he watched her teeth chew a tender piece of meat , her lips moving with her closed mouth motions before following the bob of her swallowing , the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine . After she was done she patted her mouth with a cloth and just smiled up at Albert . He couldn’t take it , he immediately got up and hoisted his pretty lady out her chair and over his shoulder with ease , like she was as light as air ! A small squeal of surprise left her lips , face tinted pink as one arm held her torso still , the other gently caressing her thighs n giving one of them a tight squeeze as she was carried to their shared room . “You’re a walking , breathing tease” he said with a grunt , throwing her onto the soft bedding . A thick , stuffed cotton blanket cushioning the girls fall . Albert fumbled with his work shirt , unbuttoning the few buttons that barely held together across his full chest , slipping it off and tossing it aside . A low growl leaving his throat as he crawled on top of her slowly , a quiet whimper leaving her as he laughed . “Aww , don’t act afraid . I can always see through you my love.” He purred , fixing a few strands of hair away from the girls face , though his touch having any other implications than soft ..
The girl was silent , save for a mischievous , nervous smile on her face . A giggle left her as she made the same camera gesture Al did earlier , “Click” she said . Then and there , Al pounced . And oh , what a night . What a night , what a night it would be .
Summary: You take a job as a counselor at an old Youth Camp near home. But as the sun goes down, strange things start happening.
CW: f!reader, reader is 21+, horror, estranged family, mentions of murder, misogyny, cat calling, dark romance, implied supernatural elements, intruder, age gap, panty ripping, fingering, p in v, scratching, creampie, cockwarming
a/n: SPOILERS FOR TBP2 (Grabber’s real name). I just made up some other counselors, but it’s world building :)
title track 🎶🌬️
Sexy Monstober Masterlist ❤️🔥
My Wedding Registry 🖤
~~~
The lake was completely frozen over. Snow pillowed every inch of the surrounding woods. Trapped beautifully up in the high Colorado mountains.
You took this job for the few weeks you were home for Christmas this year. Your office was closed for the holidays, and Alpine Lake was close to home for you. And it was not like you wanted to see your parents. Things had never been good with them. Magic in the air surrounding the season would not change that. All it meant was your mom was drunk on eggnog instead of her usual wine, and your dad was a little meaner when the sun went down sooner.
It was going to be fun. Make some friends, teach kids things they would take with them through life, cook some incredible meals, enjoy the nights around the campfire. Atleast that’s what you thought. The blizzard raging on had other plans. Accompanied by the Lake’s reputation proceeding it. An omen for outsiders to stay away. The incident back in the fifties. The three boys. Anyone with a head on their shoulders would stay far away from somewhere with this much darkness surrounding it. But there was no darkness like that in the belly of your childhood home.
It was only you and the three other counselors that showed up. Three men around your age. All other women your age having the common sense to avoid this hellhole. Or having people in their lives to warn them.
The owner had commented on how surprised he was that anyone showed up. The blizzard had postponed the children’s arrival indefinitely. He would advise you to go home, but there was no world where a vehicle was getting through this. Not safely. Deciding it was his responsibility to keep you all safe for now. The men all acting above the idea, yet here you all still were. Sat at long, camp like tables in the mess hall. Bowls of soup grasped between gloved hands. The fireplace hit against your backs as you ate. Your makeshift coworkers droning on about all the things they could be at home doing instead of being stuck here. Annoyingly humble bragging about their achievements and accolades.
Lucky for you, you finished your bowl. Standing and heading towards the back of the kitchen where the sinks were located. Not before one of the men, Jared, made an offhanded comment. Snarking, “Woah! That girl can eat!”
You scoffed when they all erupted in laughter. Ignoring the way they all high-fived and acted like that was the peak of comedy. Dustin and Landon, the other men, cackled and made noises to push his point further. Oinking like pigs. All entirely childish. Continuing to rinse out your bowl and lay it in the sink before walking back out to join them. Walking in on a conversation that you had no interest in joining.
“Yep. And she was screaming all night. Every fucking thrust, ‘Fuck yes, Jared!’ So hot,” the young man smirked, making eye contact with you as he reenacted the girl’s moans. Some sick attempt at flirting. Your lip arched in disgust. Walking back around to grab your thick puffer jacket.
“Awe, what’s wrong, honey? Too much for you to handle?” Jared smirked watching you round the table.
You chuckled, “If I wanted to hear sleezebags lie to their friends, I would’ve went to a bar.”
The two other men agged your comment along. Acting like you had burned Jared. Face flushing with embarrassment. Typically, girls fell for his charm. If you could call it that. Yet here you were, not giving him a second thought. And it made him angry.
Jared stood quickly to his feet. Tall and lanky, he loomed over you. Placing his palm on the table in front of your chair. The soft slam of it caught you off guard. “Running off so soon?”
“I’m going to the girl’s cabin,” you said putting your arms through the sleeves of your secondary jacket.
“All alone? Hah! You’re a prime target!” Landon laughed.
You scowled, “What?”
“Don’t you know what happens to snacks like you?” Dustin chimed.
Another scoff, “Grow the fuck up, Dustin.”
“You really don’t get it, huh? Back in the fifties some kids went missing here. One second they’re with the group, then next — POOF! Gone. The only things the could find were bloody clothes. No bodies were ever found. They say, the killer still roams the woods now. Looking for his next victim,” Jared’s tone fell down to campfire levels of story telling. Wiggling his fingers to creep you out further.
You rolled your eyes so hard you swore they could’ve fallen from your head. Jared attempted to tickle your sides with an evil laugh. You shoved him off of you, “You’re so full of shit!”
But you knew he was not. You knew all about the missing kids and even the rumors about burned clothes. It made you sick if you thought about it too long. The place was under new management, it’s not like anything like this had happened since.
Chills danced down your body from his touch. Violated and grossed out by his actions. Quickly zipping up your puffer while stepping back away from him. Glaring at Jared as he turned back and smiled at his friends.
“You’re all assholes,” you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah? Well, don’t come crawling to our cabin tonight when you freeze. Not interested in bitches like you,” Jared crossed his arms over his chest.
You laughed, “I’d rather fall in the lake than share a cabin with any of you.”
The three mocked you. One last childish antic to put the nail in the coffin. You grabbed your gloves from your pocket and slipped them on. Opening the door and refusing to look back.
“You can come snuggle with me, Y/N. I can keep you warm all night long,” Dustin called.
You hurried out the door. Angry that you let their childish comments get under your skin. Face hot to the touch causing the wind to burn harder. Almost like getting lashed at by the blizzard’s hand. You squinted, trying to keep the giant flakes of snow from your eyes. There was no short of four feet of snow on the ground now. Even for Alpine Lake, this was heavy.
The moon above was full. Shining as a secondary sun. Blinding you as it caught every cold flake. Reflecting into your eyes like a flashlight. Wind howling with each strong gust. Urging you to turn back now. Spend the night in the mess hall. Curl up next to the fire and wait until morning. But that would also mean admitting defeat. Letting the boys win, and risking them overstaying their welcome with you.
So you continued on. Lifting your legs higher with every stride. Steadying your heavy breathing. The cold air burned the back of your throat. Subzero temperature cutting into your body through the layers of clothing.
It was only a few more yards away.
Passing by a clearing that allowed you to look across the entire lake. Snow piled across the hundreds of feet of ice. Dancing along itself when a particularly rough breeze would blow. You thought about the depths of the water. Wondering just how deep it went. How easy it would be to get lost under it.
Then you noticed the old phone booth at the edge of the lake. No lights on, most likely meaning it was out of service. Stating at it for moment. Contemplating why they would place it there. Of all places, the edge of the lake. Odd.
Continuing to face the cold, you eventually arrived at the girl’s cabin. Ascending the stairs, you nearly slipped. Catching yourself on the railing before you busted your face. Laughing at your own clumsiness.
Finally at the landing, you jimmied the handle open. The large wood door hauntingly creaking open. It was dark. Only the soft glow of heaters on the walls and a fireplace at the end. Compact enough that you could always easily access the door, but spacious enough that if you had to be sharing it would not be uncomfortable. The owner had brought your bags over to the cabin while you were in the mess hall. A kind and considerate man. You wished the other boys would take after him.
You walked over to the mattress with your bag on it. Fresh linens made to look like home. A precaution so the kids did not freak out, you imagined. The squeaking of the boards and the howling of the wind would already be a bit much for them. Recalling how when you were a child, your mother would have to accompany you to the bathroom. Scared of the dark as many children were. The unrecognizable is easily misinterpreted in a child’s mind.
Shedding your mass of layers, you rummaged through your bag for your long-johns. Soft enough to sleep, but thick enough to keep you warm. The stress of the day was engulfing you. Dragging you down to bed.
You laid flat on your back. Hands folded neatly over your stomach. Staring blankly into the ceiling. The old wood not keeping the cold as far away as you would have liked. Crackling of the fire took your mind off of it all.
Had one of them happened here?
It made your stomach drop. Rolling onto your side so you could watch the flames in their recessed hideaway. Reds and oranges swirling together. Your only source of warmth for the nights ahead.
Three campers. All boys. They never found their bodies. Maybe they were out in the woods. Hidden in their unwanted graves. Lives taken too soon; and, from the rumors, brutally so. What kind of psycho would even keep this place open? A gateway to heartbreak and pain. Their souls had to be suffering. Begging for a rest they could never find. Stuck in the dark limbo of lost souls. While nothing else had happened, that did not mean something could not happen. What if it was one of your campers eventually arriving?
What if it was you?
It would do you no good to loathe on it. You were here now. Stuck here. There was no surviving a storm like this. Record setting temperatures. No one could. So you rolled to have your back to the fire. Letting its soothing warmth guide you to sleep…
… A harsh shiver woke you up. Blinking so you could focus. The flames were dying. And your door was wide open. Allowing the moonlight to dance across the wooden floor. Letting anything to crawl its way inside. Or anyone.
Your heart sank.
Rushing to force the large wooden door closed. The cold knocked your breath out of your lungs. Snow reflecting light and blinding you momentarily. Taking you aback. It was so beautiful. Calm and tranquil. No one to disturb the peace of nature. Your breathing steadied, allowing a wave of relief to wash over you. This would be okay.
Closing the thick wooden door, you turned on your heel. You froze. All the air trapping itself inside you. A man. Kneeled down in front of your fire. Hands extended to help thaw them. Mask sitting over his face, and was that… horns on top?
There was no way he was here before.
Tears welled behind your eyes. Preparing for the worst when you saw his axe resting on the floor beside him. A shaky exhale rolled through you. Tears burning against your frozen cheeks. Lip quivering as you begged your body to move. You could run. Run fast and scream loud. Praying that some of the others would hear you.
But you could not.
Your legs weighed a million pounds. Being swallowed by the floorboards below your bare feet. The frosty earth preparing for your arrival. Icy underneath readying your new home.
It was like that horror movie that came out a few years ago. The woman slaughtering unsuspecting camp counselors on the lake in Jersey. Counselors dumb enough to work at a place with a history of death and evil. A place that had closed many years ago because of all the tragedy surrounding it. Just like this place. Just like you.
The boy’s cabin was within running distance. The door was right behind you. You could make it. Scream loud enough to wake everyone up. You had to. This could not be how you went out. With a peep instead of a raging shout.
“Sorry about the draft,” was all he said. Voice low and husky. Muffled by the mask resting on his muzzle. Face still forward. Flipping his hands forward and backward to revive the frozen skin. More nonchalant than you would like.
A soft shake rippled through every inch of you. Fear making its home in your ribs. A hum of noise resembling a response was all you could muster. Closer to the squeak of a mouse. Timid and meek.
You tried to take in details about him in the darkness. His hair was long and ratty. Icicles forced the pieces together. His snowsuit was old and worn down. A large belt buckle caught the spark of flames that tried to breathe back to life before him.
There was something unrecognizable in the air. Putting a pressure on your chest that made it hard to breathe. Vision blurring as tears waterfalled from your tear ducts. Something in the moon.
“It’s a cold one,” he began as if any of this situation was normal, “I was out in the woods. I saw the glow through your window. And when I found out your door wasn’t locked, it’s like you were practically inviting me in.”
Why would you be out in the woods during a blizzard?
You nodded. Lashes fluttering to try and better focus on him.
It was locked.
Nostrils flexing as you tried your damndest to stop the tears streaming down. You needed to seem strong. You needed to stand your ground. You were raised better than this. To allow someone to overpower you so easily.
Maybe he worked here. Maybe he was just someone that lived near by that got caught in the storm. Maybe none of it was a lie and his intention was to simply warm up. The girl’s cabin is closer to the woods, he would have seen it first.
No. Not even that would give you solace now. You knew. Knew that he did not work here. Knew that he had been stalking and preying. Waiting for the perfect moment to creep his way inside. Most likely familiar with how things went here. There was no lying to yourself now. The only truth you could hold onto was the fear that seeped into your guts. Warning you of your fate.
“Why is there no one else in your cabin?” he finally turned to meet you. Eyes sparkling with the soft glow of the night pouring in from your window. Not with infatuation. No. With hunger. Like he was a starved animal and you were the runt abandoned by the pack. Perfect for feasting.
Your teeth chittered together. Tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. Swallowing to stop them from breaking the crest. Nostrils flaring as panic set in.
“There’s usually five or six of you counselors per cabin,” your masked guest looked around the large room. Empty beds. Heaters on some of the walls. Their coils a bright orange indicating just how hot they were. Then his eyes locked back to yours, “So why are you alone?”
The heel of your foot bounced rapidly. All your fear manifesting in the fast movement. You fiddled with your fingers as they interlocked in front of you. Unable to speak.
The man sighed. Over exaggerating an eye roll and shaking his head in disdain. His head fell to the side as he looked up at you, clicking his tongue. One of his hands reached for the axe, noticing how your body tensed immediately. Tears silently falling down your cheeks once more.
The stranger picked up his weapon. Holding it loosely in his grasp, “Is this scaring you?”
You blinked. Lip quivering as you tried your hardest to respond. Nodding in agreement.
He scoffed. Sliding the heavy metal across the floor and under one of the beds. Completely out of either of your reaches. His arms extended to show that it was gone, “Better?”
Not a single motion. Feet glued to the floor and eyes focused entirely ahead. He could still easily overpower you. Thick torso and arms bulging against his clothing. Not watching his soft, almost condescending tone.
“Am I scaring you?” he asked slowly, pressing his fingers into his chest.
A blink.
His shoulders bounced with a laugh. Shaking his head in disagreement and stretching his neck. A huff fell from him, “I guess we haven’t introduced ourselves properly.”
You shook your head.
The man stared blankly for a moment. Gesturing towards you with his hand. Encouraging you to go on. His patience dwindling away. Typically, you would not tell a stranger your name. However, fear had its hooks in you. And maybe if you played along, he would spare you.
“I-I’m Y/N,” your voice cracked and shook.
His head tilted to the side as he looked up to the ceiling. Like he was rolling it around his mind. Testing it out in different situations. A hum vibrated through his chest.
“Y/N…”
You nodded. Chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for something more from him. The depth of his tone when saying your name made your stomach tighten. Flexing your toes to try and make the blood flow through them. The cold was beginning to get to you. The backs of your legs completely numb. Tingling as a reminder of the temperature.
“And yours?” You finally asked.
Catching him ever slightly off guard. Not expecting a blunt question from the girl who only spoken two words to him since his arrival. Stuttering through them at that. Air blew through his nose, “They called me Wild Bill.”
A nickname. Better than nothing.
“Now we know each other. So why don’t you come over here with me and warm up?” he motioned you over. Acting like being on the simplest introductions made you less of strangers.
You shook your head no.
Which he did not take well. Growling under his breath and looking back into the fire for a moment. Fingers flexing into fists at his sides.
“You’re freezing,” he gestured up and down your body. The shivers that made you look like a newborn deer were obvious. Arms crossed tightly across your chest, hands tucked under your armpits. His head tilted a little, “You can’t stay by the door all night. You’ll get pneumonia.”
The irritation lacing his words made your stomach slosh. Your instincts were failing you. Toes and fingers numb. Tip of your nose similar. Able to just barely see your breath as it fell from your lips. Chapped certainly to be raw by the morning. Even with the lack of words you were speaking.
Suddenly, he stood to his full height. Heavy boot stomping into the floor as he commanded, “Come here. NOW.”
Almost without thinking, your legs began to move. Stepping with a wobble across the icy floor. Nearing your warm sanctuary. The newly risen flames calling to you like a siren. Able to ignore your unwanted guest for only a moment. His stout body stood before you. Breathing loudly behind the thick mask. Your eyes stared down to the floor. Too embarrassed to meet his harsh gaze.
A hand extended out towards you. Your body flinching before you could realize it was. His fingers pinched your chin. Slowly guiding you up to meet his eyes. Shining their blue hue behind the old, cracked mask. Capturing you in them. His lashes jumped for a moment when your eyes finally held his. Having only seen as much of you as you had him. Shadowed by the dark of the cabin. Leaving the finer details to his imagination. But no more.
His hand ghosted across your cheek. Tucking your hair behind your ear, traveling to frame your jaw. Thick fingers splayed nicely against your skin. Borderline frostbitten. Still somehow cold despite his close proximity to the fire.
The wicked grin carved into his mask a stark contrast to the look in his eyes. Hooded and pupils wide. He was older. Crows scratching their claws beside his eyes. Bags heavy under his waterline. No pure thoughts behind his glistening orbs.
A sudden wave of courage came through you. Slowly reaching up to his own face. Preparing to remove the mask from him. Wishing to see the face of your guest. Needing to put a face to the stranger. Until his own hand grabbed your wrist, paralyzing it before you could even touch him. It hurt. He was strong, no doubt about it. Turning his head, he looked at your hand. Eyes jumping back to your face and shaking his head no. Your lip quivered under his stern glare. Blue eyes focused on you entirely.
You swallowed, “Why… do you wear that..?”
“It keeps me safe,” he said like the answer was obvious. Gently, he dropped your hand from his own. Running his fingers through your hair for a moment, eyes taking up and down your body. It was a struggle to look up from the floor. Your own eyes scanning what bit of him you could see while keeping your view down. The large belt buckle around his waist. The thick snow boots that cuffed around his pants. And oddly enough his smell. Woodsy and musky. Catching your nose with a similar frost to outside. Manly, like he worked day in and day out.
“You’re very beautiful, Y/N,” his tone darkened. Hand cupping the side of your face once more. Guiding your eyes back to his.
There was something alluring about him. Maybe it was the way he looked at you. Maybe it was the fact you had not been laid since your senior prom. Something about this whole situation had moths fluttering in your chest. Captivated by his presence entirely. Older, mysterious. Clearly holding the power over you. It was a perfect storm of a taboo night together.
“You’re… cold,” you whispered.
His thumb dragged down your lip, “That’s why I’m here.”
Your lashes fluttered. The implication lingered in the air. Hard to read if that was truly what he meant. Uncovered eyes only giving you so much of a window into his mind.
“Think you can help me?” he lowly asked.
Your eyes widened. A lump forming in your throat. Your lips catching on themself as they tried to mumbled out his name. Babbling over the first syllable.
His palms gripped your hips. Pulling your body closer to his. Allowing him to take in your scent, his breath ragged under the mask. Your arms curled into your body. Fingers nearly touching his chest. Your instincts begging you not to give into your desires. But that small voice in the back of your mind made a compelling argument otherwise. It was one night.
Fingertips danced along the tough material of the snowsuit. Cascading until they met the freezing metal atop his waist. You pulled your lip between your teeth, eyes jumping down for a moment. Able to catch a glimpse of the material tightening against his groin. His want for you making myself known.
You grinned to yourself at the thought. Lacing your fingers around the large buckle and spinning around him. Tugging him waist first as you stepped slowly backward. His heavy boots echoed through the cabin. Leading him to the bed you had claimed as your own for the night. Nearly frost bitten legs bumped the wooden frame, telling you to stop. Your eyes looked to his, almost asking permission. Making sure what you were doing was okay. His eyes were squinted up with the smile hidden behind the false one of his mask.
“We can… share the bed,” shaky words betrayed you. Tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips. Your fingers traced along his belt, almost teasingly. Waiting patiently for him to make the next move. Wanting him to lead in this game you were playing.
“I’ve got an idea how to keep up both nice and warm,” his hands danced along your sides. Faux nose bumping yours. And you could not deny how badly you wanted his lips on yours. Longing to feel a deeper connection to the stranger allegedly named ‘Bill’.
“Lay down,” he commanded.
You obeyed. Sitting on the mattress and taking your normal sleeping position. Legs spread preparing to accommodate him. He exhaled in approval. Joining you on the mattress. Dipping with your combined weight. Some shimmying and he was positioned above you. Propped back on his legs. Thighs bulging against his suit. His thick fingers rested along his belt.
The heavy belt buckle clanked against the wooden floor beside the bed. Sensually, he took the zipper down his chest. Stopping right below his groin. Beginning to shove the sleeves off his body. Leaving the thick snowsuit to pool around his waist. Torso bare. Muscular shoulders and arms with a soft tummy. Scarred and bruised. Veins decorating his forearms.
You could not help but admire his body above yours. His chest rose and fell harshly. Breathing in the same cold air that had woken you from your slumber. His collar bone softly defined as his muscles flexed. Strong shoulders rolling as he leaned forward and caged you between his arms. Nose to nose with the old mask. His oceanic eyes watched your face. Anticipation clouding your vision.
Hesitant hands reached out for him. Fingertips meeting his bare chest. Dancing along the cold skin. Cascading over his pecks, all the way down to the white elastic band of his underwear. Barely exposed from how his snowsuit hugged his waist, zipper not revealing the part of him you were to receive. Your fingers splayed along the band, dipping only the tips underneath. Feeling the soft hair of his pubic area. His steady breath caught in his throat at your touch. Making you fear for a moment you had made a mistake.
“Eager girl,” he cooed.
You tucked your head against your pillow in embarrassment. Heating up from his simple statement. Shyly nodding. It made him grin behind his mask.
“Come on. No need to be shy with me,” he encouraged. Brushing his knuckles down your cheek. Dewy eyes looked up at him. His eyebrows laid flat against his eyes, hooding them. The bright blue of his iris being drowned out by the width of his pupils.
There was a beat of silence. His labored breaths the only sound echoing off the walls. Caught in his mask. One of his hands ghosted down your body. Fingers catching the elastic of the thick pajama pants you wore. He leaned back on his legs, looking down at your clothed bottom half. Letting both hands frame your hips. Massaging and squeezing the meat.
“Have you done this before, Y/N?” the slight tinge of condensation made your body tingle.
You coyly nodded, “Not in a long time.”
“Good,” his smirk was palpable. He began to pull your long-jons off your legs. The cold stung against your bare flesh. He sighed when his eyes met the soft cotton of your panties. Tilting his head before flattening two fingers along your mound. Dragging them down until they met your soaked lips. Making you squeak.
Discarding your bottoms into the floor, he arched his hips so that he could shimmy the snowsuit further. Allowing his erection free from its confines. Curving towards his soft stomach. Heavy looking with a vein curling around it. Blushed red with need. You unabashedly stared.
It made him chuckle. His palms expanding against your bare thighs. Hooking around the curve of your leg. Placing it around his waist before scooting closer to you. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. Absentmindedly pumping himself as he stared at your cotton panties. Your knee pressed into his side out of pure animalistic need. Mindlessly trying to press your knees together for relief. Almost like your body was unaware of the position it was in.
Swiftly, he grabbed the front of your panties. Ripping them clean off your body. The sound of fabric I aggressively cracking had your heart skipping a beat. The pure strength he was showcasing. It made your loins flutter.
“Better,” he purred. Discarding the now ruined panties, his fingers returned to your core. Flattening along your mound and dipping them into you. Swirling two of them methodically around your far too sensitive clit. Whining in response to his touch.
“So warm,” he cooed, “This outta keep me warm all night. What do you think, Y/N?”
You were losing it. The firm pressure on your nub, the fingers that barely dipped into where you needed him most. The goddamn teasing. It seemed to be his favorite part of it all. A game.
You nodded, “Yes. Please, yes.”
He laughed at your pathetic request. Your voice breaking and needy. Thinking how lovely you were like this. Practically clawing into him to make him stay. Get him as close as possible. Your need nearly surpassed his own, and he could sense it.
“Pretty voice,” he mocked, stroking his hand along your hair. It sent goosebumps down every inch of you. Culminating in your core where his fingers pulled away slowly. Framing his member to line up with your entrance. Slapping the head against your needy clit a few times. Sound lewdly echoing through the cabin.
Taking position, he was ready to enter you. His hips barely inched forward when you yelped. Body still in flight or fight. His own stopping. Blue eyes widening at how your face contorted in uncertainty.
“I’ll go slow, okay? That’ll help,” he said more as a command than a request.
Mindlessly, you nodded. Accepting his word like gospel.
His hips began to gently thrust into you. Only allowing the head to dip between your folds. Letting you adjust to his girth at your own pace. Putting the primal urge inside him into submission if only to let you enjoy this more. Edging himself inch by inch further until he felt your walls give. Letting himself fully sheathe between them with a low groan.
“Oh… there you go,” he purred, “It’s good, isn’t it?”
Your head was thrown back. Mouth gaping open as you tried to breathe. Eyes forced shut. Voice captured in your throat. You hugged your arms around him. Nails scratching down his bare back as you arched into him. Your torso pressing into his, finally letting the moan stuck in your throat escape.
He rolled into you steadily. Gradually building speed when you got louder. His heavy breaths fanned out the bottom of his mask, hitting your neck. Heating the two of you up. Nearly forgetting about the harsh blizzard that raged on outside.
One of his hands traveled down to your core. Planting a soft pressure against your clit. Matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Longing for the feeling of your walls clamping around his thick cock. And he could tell it would not be long before he had you cumming. Far too inexperienced and sensitive to last.
“Tight pussy,” he groaned when your walls fluttered. The head of his cock brushing the spongy spot that would coax you to an end. You fought to keep air in your lungs. Rapidly inhaling and exhaling. It was like music to his ears.
“B-Bill—“ you called out, feeling the knot inside you tying itself tightly. Earning a growl from him. Perhaps not the biggest fan of his name, or just not used to hearing someone say it this way. It made him thrust harder. Growing aggressive and animalistic. Grunting with every motion. The sound of skin smacking together heightened.
“Cum,” he demanded, “I need you to cum.”
You threw your head back once more. Eyes flying shut as you attempted to focus long enough to let it all flow through you. Never wanting this to end, but your walls were fluttering and it would not be long now.
With a few more circles of his fingers, your nails were digging into his muscular skin. Screaming his name with a moan. He wrapped an arm around you so that your hips were arched higher. Letting him stay deep between your folds through your orgasm. Fucking into you as you milked him. Edging him along to his own high. Leaning his head against yours, he moaned loudly. Coating your insides with his thick seed. Cock twitching and hips jerking with each spurt. Voice jumping an octave when he tried to catch his breath. Sounded utterly wrecked trying to hide how good it felt.
The familiar silence took over the room. His arm still hooked around your middle. His plastic forehead rested against yours. Neither of you saying anything. Letting your groins stay connected.
Then he shifted. Flipping so that you were lying atop him. His cock never leaving your insides, even as it softened. You nuzzled your head into his chest. Listening for a heartbeat that you could not fully place. Probably just from the way your ears were burning and your own heartbeat strummed in your ears.
The sandman must have visited. Your eyes grew heavy. Engulfed by the shared warmth between you. Letting the stranger remain here with you. He was the one keeping you warm after all.
~~~
[END]
// Thank you so much for reading! I haven’t wrote for the Grabber in years, so it was nice to explore his character again. He’s diabolical, but damn is Ethan Hawke so hot. If you want to see more of him, feel free to shoot me a request! My inbox is always open. Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! Love ya! //
If you wanna get REALLLYYY technical.. Albert wasn't gay/strictly mlm, meaning he was unlabled or aroace, so there is a slim chance he could've liked women..?? If you change the no adult relationship thing💔.. aroace people can still date
In other words, Nere x Grabber canon😛
When writing a character like this, the least of your problems is thinking of a sexuality for him, let alone his dating life. If you aren't going to show it in the movie, why mention it at all?
So, what do we know? We know that Al has/had no adult romantic relationships.
And what does this mean for us Grabber shippers?
Go fucking wild, be free, be happy, headcanon him with any sexuality, ship yourself, ship your OC, who gives a fuck. As long as you don't romanticize or defend the shit out of his Freddy Krueger actions, you're cool.
In conclusion: All the grabber x oc/sona/self-inserts are canon and valid.
AS LONG AS THEY ARE TWO ADULTS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-- I SHOULDN'T BE SPECYFIN THIS
but still.... tysm twin <3
Summary: After going on a road trip with your friends, you become the sole survivor of the group, trapped in the Hewitt’s residence, because Thomas doesn’t like the idea of you getting killed as you show him humanity and fearlessness in the face of death.
Part 1
Part 2 and 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9 (NSFW)
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14 (NEW, I am back <3)
Notes: This story happens somewhere between the events of Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning (2006) and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)
Warnings: Violence, Mention of rape, Trauma
Content: Reader has moodswings due to trauma, and is acting on irrational impulses, however has a strong/fearless personality, wittiness and calm nature despite the circumstances, Thomas is confused by his emotions, he knows he should kill you, but he doesn’t want to, Fluff/Smut coming your way
>1000 words, detailed descriptions of violence and a (sort of?) mention of s/a (⚠️use of the r word ⚠️), reader is gn! and up to interpretation throughout other than being considerably smaller than thomas and one mention of possibly bearing children. open-ended, so if you prefer angst endings for reader or stockholm, you can choose, it's texas chainsaw massacre, anything that's in either movie is part of the warnings just to be safe. dead dove do not ear, read at your own risk. also this is not proofread in any way, I literally wrote this straight shot right before bed listening to dove (doll ver) on loop and hit post.
READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING
imagine tommy keeping you, not to rape and defile like his uncle assumed, nor for you to bare children like his mama had hoped—but because you're just so nice to look at.
In the first film, tommy can be seen wearing rings, jewelry he's collected from past victims. also with the whole wearing people's faces to mask his own, he obviously has an eye for pretty things. and you're one of them.
It isn't just that of course, plenty of pretty people had come onto the farm, all meeting the same fate. he hadn't spared a dozen or so others, so why would he spare you?
you hadn't flinched at the sight of him, you hadn't run away crying like a child at their first horror maze, you simply smiled at him with those sparkling eyes, an elegant hand giving him a friendly, unbiased wave. you looked at him without prejudice, or preconceived assumptions about his character.
your friends hadn't given him the same courtesy. which is why you were here, chained to the workbench near the chopping block. the block he was using to dismember your traveling companions. a few of them hung from meat hooks, catatonic, their minds were weak and feeble, they broke at the sights in front of them, and despite the agonizing pain of lost limbs and shredded muscle, they were silent and still, waiting for their turn.
death was their only escape, they needed only to wait for it. you could see it in their eyes, each time he'd finish one off and turn to grab the next off a hook, they'd all follow him with pleading eyes. not for mercy, they were far beyond the point of return—but to be next.
your entire body was shaking like a kicked chihuahua. your muscles were all tense, adrenaline begged you to run, flee, to escape death. your silly primal instinct hadn't caught up with your concious. It was an odd feeling, having every possible part of your body screaming at you to run, and choosing to stay still, to betray your instinct with your intelligence. you knew you wouldn't get far.
despite the horrid conditions in the basement, a place where your senses should be overloaded; your ears with the echoes of their screams and the engine of the saw, your eyes with the gory mess, your nose with the pungent smell of iron and rotting flesh, your tongue with the dryness of your mouth from panting, and your body's fatigue from running around for hours—there was nothing but the racing of your heartbeat.
It was all you could hear or feel, and in your mind you could taste and see it as well, you felt the pulse rise all the way into your skull and down to your toes. you felt every rush of blood heat your skin like a furnace, moving past your veins and tissue.
your eyes aimlessly followed his body, unblinking and dry. he was deeply focused on his ‘work’, but he would still glance at you every now and again. you were just so pretty, a decoration in his safe haven, like a deer mounted above the fireplace.
hours had passed in what felt like seconds before he was finished. you hadn't moved.
he nonchalantly came up to you, his much larger hand going to cup your face before he froze. he withdrew his hands, wiping the bloody mess on his apron and washing his hands before he continued his previous action.
you didn't dare move, not even to flinch, as his held your head in your hands.
his thumbs caressed the flesh just under your eyes, rubbing around and about, seemingly fascinated by the way your skin folded and stretched at his will. he made a gesture with his hands, swiping a palm in front of your eyes, an attempt at communicating. when you didn't respond, he huffed frustratedly before letting his thumbs touch your eyelids, forcing them down to close your eyes.
he took your chin in-between two fingers, maneuvering your head in every direction, studying every feature. his thumb pulled your lips apart, showing him your teeth, clenched so hard they might be pushed back underneath your eye sockets.
after a he took some time to study you, you felt his thumbs come back to rest on your eyelids, pulling them open again. this time he studied your iris. he was clearly upset at the lack of light that prevented him from seeing the color clearly, but he looked closely nonetheless.
the sensation of breath enveloping your face, forcing you to breathe in the air he had just released, was one you could not describe.
his hands fell to your shoulders and moved downward till he got to your forearms, where he would trace the veins in your arms. when his hand met your wrist, he applied gentle pressure to it, his breath hitching as he felt your blood pulsate. he moved onto your hands now.
his were easily twice the size of yours, if not more. his nails were dull and blunt, the skin much rougher against yours. dried blood cracked underneath his nails and stained his skin a pinkish tone despite his tan. he traced the lines of your palm the same way a palm reader would, take away the tales of life lines and replace them with pure admiration.
he unexpectedly leaned in closer to you, his face now inches, if that, from your own. you kept your gaze ahead as he stared you down.
he brought his masked nose up to the top of your head and sniffed you like a dog, leaning down to your neck to see what else he could smell on you besides your faded fragrance and sweat.
It was only after this action of his that your body responded in any way in nearly 12 hours.
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
2087
baratheonpilled
