angel'ed

squeeze it apart that's fine 19

[menmuncher]

introduction!

hii my name is angel!

i'm 19 and autistic, i use she/they pronouns and i'm a safe space for everyone!

i will write for the following fandoms:

horror

marvel

the last of us

star wars

here r my fics so far:

sub!ethan landry anything you say...

longlegs x reader little angel

the monkey bill/hal shelburn x reader

[pink-zombies]

billy???

ok so this is kinda intense, a little gorey towards the end. some fucked up stuff. no non-con but definitely ns//fw and some blood and guts.

hal is my number one but i adore bill too, i love just really fucked up characters like them so. i really wanted to write something quick and gross about bill's affliction for the monkey. here it is!

words--2780

Dark hair matted down with sweat, clinging to the back of their neck—sticky, sweet, just like the girl—or guy, or whatever else—beneath him, under him, writhing and sweaty and slick so perfectly.

It didn’t matter who it was underneath him. Didn’t matter any gender, or appearance, or facial harmony—only it, only that putrid, menacing grin—all split open maw revealing wooden teeth that always looked far too human, too real—fuck, maybe they are real? Are those human teeth, what the fuck—?

It didn’t matter. Bill had decided, early on, nothing mattered. Everyone died. Everything died, in some way, shape, or form—nothing was infinite, everything was inevitable. Just like taking her home—him? it?—Bill mused that the goddamn thing didn’t have specific pronouns or an identity, and he could relate to it in that way, he supposed. Meaningless words given to a meaningless piece of him, his sense of self so destroyed and unraveled there was no way to even begin to pick up any pieces and snap them back together. Bill was gone, had been gone for a long time—unlike his idiot fucking brother with his gentle demeanor and attempt at a family life and trying to forget forget forget and whatever the fuck else—

Secretly, Bill had always wanted a family, somewhere, someone to call home at least, but it always ended up with some cheap hooker that he piled too much of his baggage onto and frightened off, or coming into his own hand wrapped around his cock while he panted, alone, in his warehouse-turned-home, sometimes (usually) resulting in hot tears flowing down his face as he hyperventilated and sobbed himself to sleep. Alone.

Except, they were never truly alone, were they? Followed by it, stalked by creeping visions of primates and children’s toys in every waking moment of their sorry existence; Bill couldn’t deny the absolute fear that crumbled him when faced with the monkey, but in turn, also couldn’t deny the sweet spark of power that accompanied it. For once, Bill was somebody—not just the older twin, the big brother, the mean bully, the stupid one—he was raw power, unadulterated terror and death and the harbinger of life.

The harbinger of… whatever this was—sloppy drunk and woozy, sitting, alone again, at the front of the stage, arms crossed against the cool floor with his chin resting there—near black out, half gone, seeing things again.

Seeing it, with its stupid fuzzy chestnut hair, stupid dumbo ears, stupid spirally red-yellow eyes, stupid fucking drumstick—god, I’m fucked up—right there, in all it’s glory, complete with the neck and tits and body of a marble statue, beautiful, smooth, lace-clad and elegant lingerie wrapping straps around its thick thighs, the curve of its ass, its long-fingered hands as it wrapped them around its ankles. It shook, ass bouncing and tits jiggling nearly out of its scantily-clad silver sequined top, in perfect unison with the beat of the music in the background of the club.

What the fuck have I been drinking…?

Only to be right in front of him, dropping to its knees and sauntering over, curling half human, half monkey palms around Bill’s pretty face, touching the stubble across his cheeks, staring its big red eyes right into his soft brown ones. Bill’s heart clenched, his body taut, equal parts horrified and horny—plush lips opened and gave way to a wooden-toy finger that slipped into his mouth, pressing and feeling around his teeth, stroking his tongue, urging him to close his lips and suck, and that he did. The monkey’s face was unchanging, monotone and stuck in its usual sneering grin, while Bill’s was melting, scrunched up, flushed. Desperation overtook them suddenly, needy and wanting and he hadn’t felt this kind of pressure in his groin ever in his life; he had to get out of that stuffy, filthy club save he’d do something rather embarrassing. Bill jerked his head back, scooting his chair loudly as to get the fuck away from whatever that goddamn thing was—but it was one step ahead, the drumstick it held in its other palm suddenly horizontal and slamming into the dusty floor of the stage, the jarring noise ricocheting off the walls and pinging around Bill’s brain like he was a madman.

The entire place spun a thousand miles a second, hazey colors and bright lights all vibrant and beautiful and so blazing they couldn’t see in front of them, kaleidoscope images of his past, present and future all splitting into particles in his eyes and he wasn’t in the club anymore—he was vaguely aware of his own voice screaming in fear, yelping in horror—and Bill was violently deposited onto the cold floorboards of the shitty warehouse he’d attempted to make into a home. A place to live, at least. Somewhere to hole up because God knows he didn’t have a home—didn’t belong anywhere, really.

He had enough of himself left to frightfully drag his body to his bed—which was sadly just a few old blankets tossed upon a thin mattress he’d scraped up enough to buy from the local thrift—attempting to burrow his way down into his bedclothes, hide himself from whatever the fuck was then standing, looming in the corner of the dank room. Heavy, humid breathing and mechanical clicking noises were mixed with Bill’s petrified whimpers, the man hardly able to even peek over to stare into the abyss of the corner.

Then, it all made sense. Tall, rounded ears, dark, dirty, frizzled polyester hair—overly large plastic eyes and equally large plastic teeth—it was there, and real—the half dancer half monkey hybrid fucking monster was pacing back and forth over squeaking floorboards, and Bill knew they had been drinking but they also knew of their complete and utter sobriety in that moment. No warmth of alcohol tainting their vision or rockets of white powder blurring the lines; no, the monkey was there, standing six feet seven over his shitty little bed, part animal paw and part human fingernails all manicured toying with the straps of black lace lingerie that laid all across its body.

I thought it was a fucking drunken daydream I didn’t—didn’t know I’d brought it the fuck home with me—

—just like my dumbshit brother had brought it with him when we moved—

—or was I the one who brought it? Was it me? Did I begin this all?—

—did I kill my mom…?—

Terror and arousal equal parts spiralled up Bill’s spine, watching with tear-filled eyes as the Monkey awkwardly began pulling on straps and buckles and thigh-high boots, revealing in every unclothing its painfully human body, save for its head and part of its hands—and Bill couldn’t deny his own painfully human body and soon enough, the creature had stripped near naked—clad in nothing but a tiny pair of pearly panties that hardly concealed anything. Memories of how they’d gotten home that night were overturned by it—Bill had no idea how to think about any ramifications or consequence because the Monkey was suddenly on his bed, maneuvering itself to lay flush against the mattress, its long, smooth legs wrapping around Bill’s waist to clutch on and drag him down towards it.

His cock was definitely interested.

Hips began to rut forward, minds of their own—the pressure in Bill’s jeans growing as he thrusted forward to grind his clothed cock against the Monkey’s nearly-exposed cunt, that disturbingly resembled typical human anatomy—all wet and glistening and swollen like it had been desperate and waiting for him. Soft whimpers pulled from Bill’s plush mouth, heat and friction engulfing their lower half, and sudden voices and whispers ebbed and flowed in his brain—voices he’d heard before that night, that sometimes got so loud he’d wanted to take a power drill to his goddamn ears, voices telling him to do bad things—the voice of it, that thing that had overtaken his bloodstream, his broken soul, his every waking moment. That childhood heirloom he’d inherited from his father, that had been awakened by his own fingertips—

Bill was hyperventilating, breathing messy and anxious, and the whispering in his brain cells was unbearable, and he didn’t know what to do anymore, nothing really mattered, right?—so they dipped down lower, shoving their face between the Monkey’s supple thighs, inhaling a mouthful of its wet cunt—not bothering with any semblance of technique or precision, just slurping and sucking and drinking everything down, and whining pitifully as the Monkey pressed Bill closer to its center with both large, plastic hands laid on the back of his head. It made no noise, no moans or syllables of praise for his tongue, just pure nothingness—no sound but Bill’s pathetic whimpering and the obscene sloppiness from his mouth on its pussy.

Nothing but those goddamn whispers—

—let yourself go, Bill. You know you’re weak. You don’t stand a chance in hell.

—you’ll die. You’ll die painful. I will make sure of it. Now fuck it. Fuck the Monkey, Bill. Make love to it. You know you’ve always wanted to.

—and Bill was crying, tears pricking his eyes, because it was right. It’s not like Bill had a family, anymore, or friends, or lovers, or anyone—it was him and his immortality together, hand in hand, wedded by his loneliness. Sobbing into its thigh, he dragged himself up, situated his body enough so that he could slide inside, the wet push of his cock into its waiting cunt, slippery and hot and smooth and it felt so good it was difficult to imagine that this creature was what ruined Bill in the first place. What had taken what was left and shredded it all to pieces.

Bill’s only sense of identity was held captive in the Monkey’s hold, his self worth and sense of being tied up in toy fingers. Bill no longer feared death because here they were, fucking death itself into the mattress, pressing their face into a human neck and panting breaths and relishing in actual, real pleasure—something Bill hadn’t felt in this lifetime, no actual person willing to give themselves to some freak that holed up in the town’s local abandoned hotel to relentlessly and ruthlessly chase down that void he couldn’t let go of that rotted his past and destroyed his future.

He kissed and licked and sucked at that neck, crying out and near wailing, his dick embedded deep within its body, no smooth strokes or anything that made sense. Just blindly thrusting forward into its heat and burying his cock into plush flesh—the pleasure burned and zapped Bill’s spinal cord until it was collecting below his belly and coiling into the head of his dick. The Monkey grabbed a hold of Bill’s neck by the collar of his shirt to force him to look into fake, emotionless eyeballs, his orgasm stunted by the sudden movement.

“Oh, fuck, please—please let me come, please, I’ll do anything—“ 

He was watered down to pathetic begging—the Monkey’s expression unchanging but stern, somehow, terrifyingly cruel and unkind, and its grip on Bill’s neck tightened until it was near choking him, spluttering broken pleads and begging to be released, to be allowed to release. The Monkey’s voice taunting him, threatening him—I’ll kill you, Bill, I’ll tear you apart, I’ll turn your organs inside out, I’ll turn your blood into acid and keep you sentient through it all—the room spun again, darkness making way to a swath of pigment and imagery so frightening it made his body turn cold, his head pounding and body still trapped on top of the Monkey, searching blindly for purchase to move away, forward, something—

—and then, there they were. 

Underneath Bill was not the Monkey, or anything resembling said Monkey, but a person, a fully human person with a body and a face and lovely dark hair and pretty dark eyes looking up at him, an expression of pleasure and want etched into their features.

The fake hand no longer clutching into the back of his neck, the room its regular hue, his pants around his thighs and his throbbing cock sheathed inside of this person—the usual dancer he fancied at that night club?—apparently everything prior a vision of deception. The Monkey was cruel, Bill knew that—sliding itself in and out of Bill’s vision throughout his days. He guessed maybe, he’d gotten too drunk, too high, as per usual, and this poor dancer had gotten a bit too close, thought Bill was just a little quirky, a little weird, but attractive enough, it had seemed, and his fucked up brain had played a fucked up trick on him.

Bill reluctantly pushed forward, head still spinning around the room, still peeking over his shoulder for it, still paranoid with fear—but the pleasure was still bubbling in his abdomen, still present around his dick so he chalked it all up to the drugs, or the alcohol, or just his mushed up brain, and tried to enjoy himself as much as the person writhing and moaning beneath him was.

…Until something had snapped. The cry of pleasure from the dancer suddenly turned into a scream of agony punctuated by a loud drum-beat a mere second earlier, their pretty face complete with their glittery blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick twisted and molded into something horrifying, bright red rivulets of blood mingling with their makeup and it drooled down their face and neck into their hair and all across Bill’s mattress.

It took him a beat to react, to understand, fuck, fuck, what the fuck is happening?! What the fuck is happening?!—that something went terribly wrong—flashbacks of his dear mother’s death, that god-awful day, her head smacking into the counter as she went down all bloody and burst open and pooling across the kitchen floor—

And here it was, happening again—more brutal, this time—this dancer’s aneurysm overtaking their entire body, racking their organs til there were guts and tendons and teeth all splattered across the bed, sloshing into the sheets and into Bill’s face, his hair, coating his fingernails as he pulled himself away and frantically pulled them into his arms, trying with all his might to save them—press them back together. He yelped himself, feeling as if it were a lucid nightmare, like his soul was floating over this ghastly scene—he had no time to hardly register what was happening, the dancer’s eyes dripping blood and boring holes right into his gaze.

One last final scream of excruciating pain from the dancer and a tremor of their body, and they went limp in Bill’s arms, head lolling down and limbs dangling to their sides, pieces of their body flung across the room and nestled into new spots, bloody decor now strung across Bill’s home. 

The silence that followed the mere seconds it took for the dancer’s body to unravel was louder than anything he’d ever heard in his life. Splitting eardrums and hot tears unshed desperate to flow down his face. There he was, still half naked, cock still hard, legs folded beneath him while he held onto this poor dancer’s half gone body—Bill was silent, jaw slack in disbelief, in distress, in panic—what do I do, what do I do, what do I do—the Monkey no where to be found, no where to be seen. Why did they die no one even turned the fucking key I didn’t turn it this time I promise I didn’t. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry—

Until Bill looked down, past the dripping body parts, to see that godforsaken golden key between his fingertips on his dominant hand, the Monkey face down in the pillow, clutching onto its back, keeping it steady while he turned and turned and turned it.

Remorse burned a hole in his gut until he was sick, bent over on his haunches as he gagged and wailed and screamed, blood caked into his choppy hair, smeared across the button-up he’d fashioned, all down even to the soles of his feet. Holding his pretty face in his palms, Bill choked out relentless sobs into his hands, frantically scrubbing at his clothes to get the fucking blood out—overwhelmed, guilt gnawing, itching at his entire body. Because deep down, despite it all, Bill was just as pathetic and weak and insecure as his dumbshit brother—moreso, maybe, and he knew it, but refused to face the music, refused to admit any wrongdoing or fault in all of this, the destruction of his own life.

Bill could do nothing but lay down in the sloppy mess of his bed for the entire rest of the night til the morning sun shone through thin curtains, all come and organs and sinew, and scream and cry and puke and wail some more, the agony unbearable, the devastation unfolding into whatever it wanted—it had taken his life, his body, his soul, and there wasn’t anything left anymore, but slivers of himself, tiny shards of Bill Shelburn that weren’t really dead but weren’t really alive, either.

It had taken everything. 

[menmuncher]

wait I need bill but also AW

[littlemisslonglegs]

on the counter | hal shelburn

౨ৎ genre: oneshot, smut (mdni), hurt/comfort

౨ৎ pairing: hal shelburn x fem! reader

౨ৎ wc: 2.8k

౨ৎ summary: your sweet, loving boyfriend has been having recurring nightmares about the cursed toy monkey from his childhood. you wake up to him in the kitchen making breakfast, and perhaps those waffles aren't the only thing you're craving.

SPOILERS FOR THE MONKEY (2025) BELOW

this takes place before the major events of the film, featuring adult! hal, before he knows that the monkey has returned.

warnings: smut smut smut. lowercase intended, nightmares, soft dom! hal, kitchen sex, p in v, undressing, size difference, hand jobs, oral (f receiving), established relationship, body appreciation, neck kissing, l-bombs, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, love)

ao3 link

a/n: here it is! my first fic! i hope it's not too shabby :) i saw that there's a severe lack of monkey fics out here, and i thought i'd share my own interpretation of the twins. theo james, the man that you are... taglist! @zombiepuke @menmuncher

︶⊹︶ ︶୨୧︶ ︶ ⊹︶ ︶⊹︶

the aroma of cinnamon sugar and maple syrup filled your senses as you walked down the stairs, eagerly waiting for your boyfriend to greet you.

you found him standing in front of the oven, dressed in a white tee and black sweats, raking a hand through his short curls.

he'd prepared a lovely breakfast for you, all of your favorites spread out on the dining table. there were two plates of waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, sitting parallel to each other, along with two glasses of orange juice to match. it was like something you'd seen out of your favorite rom-com, and just as sugary sweet.

as much as you appreciated the gesture, you couldn't shake the fact that he had more than likely woken up in another cold sweat before you opened your eyes.

that he'd wake up panting in the middle of the night, gripping the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white.

you thought of when he told you the story about his family curse, and the toy monkey that was tied to it.

what was supposed to be a cherished family heirloom was nothing more than a spawn of satan himself.

the horrors he and his twin brother encountered as children, sights that no small child should ever witness.

you remembered the fear in his eyes when he told you about the hibachi restaurant incident, pupils all dilated and sweat slick on his brow. he and his brother watching their innocent babysitter have her head sliced clean off as if it were butter to a hot knife.

how his brother, bill, had witnessed their mother bleed out from every pore in her body, right in the middle of icing a cake.

how many funerals the two of them must have attended...

with all of that blood and gore, you could practically taste the iron on your tongue, even the bile rising in your throat.

god, the way that he described everything in such detail, it made your stomach churn.

setting the disturbing thoughts aside, you made some gentle steps forward, your bare feet on the plush carpet beside the stairs. with his back turned, now facing the stove, you hoped he wouldn't hear you creeping up on him.

you crept your way into the kitchen, the cold marble floor leaving a chilling sensation on your skin. you made it behind him and gently wrapped your arms around his firm torso.

he shivered at your touch, a soft gasp escaping him.

"good morning," you whispered, peppering a gentle kiss on his neck. you couldn't help but giggle like a fool when you saw the red bloom on his cheeks.

"someone's up early," hal said, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"did i scare you, sweetheart?" you realized that your little act of kindness must have made him feel worse, not better.

you hated to be insensitive like that.

hal raised his brows, "what? n-no, it's fine." he stuttered, and fuck, did it break your heart to watch his gaze soften.

it was like watching the life leave his eyes, the happy, dorky man you loved oh-so dearly drifting away.

you took two steps back, giving him some space. you looked up at him, admiring the sharp planes of his handsome face, and how his soft, full lips complimented him perfectly. his messy curls touching the rims of glasses, and those warm brown eyes that you adored.

with a face and body like that, you would've thought he was sculpted by the gods themself. as if he was crafted with care and precision.

god, he was so handsome.

it took every ounce of strength in you to not pull him close and kiss his worries away. to run your hands all over his muscled body, hoping he'd take you right here, right now.

to tell them that he was yours, and that you were his, and that absolutely nothing would get in the way of you two.

that he was safe in your arms.

"it's nothing, i promise," hal looked down and pushed his glasses up with his middle finger. "i just... fuck." his voice broke. you could see the tears fill up his eyes behind those lenses.

"what is it, baby?" you placed your hand on his abdomen, stepping ever-so-slightly on your tiptoes. "tell me, please."

and so he did.

"the nightmares," he began, "they won't stop."

you felt his strong yet gentle hands resting on your hips, toying with the hem of your silk night shorts.

"i know it happened when i was just a kid, yeah, but it won't leave me alone. it's like it's in my bedroom, watching me while i sleep. this weight on my shoulders that i can't shake off." hal sniffled, the tears full on streaming down his cheeks. "i'm so sorry, baby. i don't know what's wrong with me."

the raw vulnerability in his words brought you to your knees. you'd never seen him this way before in the year and a half you'd been together.

seeing him let his guard down like this... it absolutely broke you.

you had to be there for him, be his person, his angel.

there was a moment of silence before you reached up and stroked his cheek, your heart numbing in your chest.

"hal, sweetheart." you wiped his tears away with a soft stroke of your thumb. "oh honey... it's not your fault."

wrapping your arms around his neck, he picked you up and placed you on the kitchen counter. all you could do was stare into your boyfriend's soulful eyes, praying to some god that he didn't blame himself for all that had happened.

you wondered how long he had been having these nightmares, what it would be like to be in his place.

to be stripped of your teenage years thanks to something that was supposed to be so innocent.

tears clung to his thick eyelashes as he held your gaze. you could feel the connection that you shared with him. not just the romantic and sexual one, but the friendship that lingered between them. the authentic, real bond inside of the relationship.

you were two halves of one soul.

besides, you two were partners, wouldn't you want to be each other's ride or die?

you cupped his face in your hands, his grip not leaving your waist.

"hal shelburn, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." you said with a small smile. "you are the strongest man i've ever met, and nothing will ever change that."

and just like that, you closed the gap between you and him with a soft kiss on his lips.

"you're so smart," you placed a kiss on his cheek, your right hand running up his chest.

"and kind," another on his jawline.

"and sexy," another on his slender neck, your words barely a whisper.

and with that, he came undone.

hal tilted his head further back, releasing a satisfied groan while he gripped your hips tighter. you licked along the column of his throat, nibbling and sucking on his adam's apple. savoring every drop of his sweat, his taste.

he tasted like salt and vanilla, a delicious combination that you could drink up every single day.

and mixed with the musk of his cologne?

fuck. you couldn't taste and worship him enough.

he leaned you back on the counter, closing the space between you with a hard, passionate kiss.

hal was anything but gentle here, his tongue gliding past your bottom lip, swiping between your teeth. you bit lightly on his plush bottom lip, not too hard to draw blood. you placed your hand behind the back of his head, finding purchase at his scalp.

he reaches under your bare thigh, holding you in his strong arms. looking down, breaking the kiss, you noticed a tent was forming in his sweats. your mouth was now watering at the thought of his cock in your mouth, licking and kissing the tip until it turned purple.

"can i?" you ask him with pleading eyes, reaching down to palm his clothed cock.

"yeah," his voice was gravel in your ear. he was now grinding himself into your palm. now grabbing the elastic waistband, you pulled down his sweats and boxers all in one go, and his cock sprang free. heat pooled between your thighs at the sight of him.

you'd seen below his belt plenty of times, but like this? it had your core throbbing. a bead of precum lay at the tip, and there was that pretty vein you loved to run your tongue over.

wrapping your hand around his length, you began at a slow pace, using your spit as lube. you were so skilled at it, with the way you had him squirming and biting his lip before you.

"like that, baby?" you asked, fluttering your lashes. now you were running your thumb over his wet slit. he looked even more beautiful under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, fucking your fist like this.

your boyfriend only sucked through his teeth, "fuck, don't stop."

you kept your pace, making him feel good just like you always did. but quickly after that, his eyes met yours and he said, "on your back, baby." as if some switch flipped inside him.

it was a command, and obey you did. leaning back onto the hard counter, he positioned your hips up, resting your thighs on his broad shoulders. his lips were so achingly close to your clothed cunt, and your clit was begging for him to taste it, suck it.

"let's get these off," he panted as he pulled your night shorts and soaked panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. placing himself between your thighs, he kneeled down and began a trail of kisses down your knees to your inner thighs, his lips ever so soft. you arched your back as he sucked gently on those sensitive parts of you, your heart and cunt pulsing in tandem.

holy fuck, was he such a tease.

just before he was about to place his lips on your most secret spot, he stood still, taking in every inch of your soaked cunt, observing those little marks he left on your thighs.

"look at you," he said softly, "so fucking beautiful, all spread out for me like this." he placed a thumb over your sensitive clit, rubbing sweet circles on it. "and so, so wet." you moaned at his touch.

he knew you liked it when he took charge, and this was no exception.

"tell me, love, do you want my tongue or my cock first?" he asked, his voice low and husky. the teasing didn't stop there.

"hal, fuck!" you yelped as he slipped a finger inside you, the sweet torture bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"please eat my pussy. please, i'm begging you." your words only placed a devilish grin on his beautiful face.

"as you wish, pretty girl."

he began by kissing your pussy, top to bottom, gliding his tongue across your folds. you locked eyes while you grabbed his hair, guiding him up and down. you felt him hum as he devoured you, the vibrations going straight to your stimulated clit.

seeing him like this, glasses all askew and hair disheveled, it only made the experience ten times hotter.

his cock was rock-hard, and it took every last drop of strength in him not to reach down and finish everything off too early.

the fact that you had a man kneeling before you, bigger and most certainly stronger than you, made you gasp for air, your nipples pebbling with every sinful swipe of his tongue.

your body was his temple, his place of worship. all in the comfort of your own home.

"fuck, sweetheart." he gasped, his lips letting go of your nub with a pop. "you taste so good. can i be inside you? yeah?" his pleading eyes reminded you that of a puppy.

nodding your head, you tugged at the hem of his tee, and you took it up and over his shoulders, tossing it aside. you placed your hands flat on his muscled chest, leaning forward for another passionate kiss. he kissed along your shoulders, up and down your neck.

the two of you wanted to savor every second of this, forget about all the horrors of the real world. pretend that you were the only two people left on earth.

and that you did.

he was cradling your head now, leaning deeper into the kiss. hal followed along by taking off your silk nightshirt, admiring your bare breasts.

you couldn't wait much longer, you needed him inside you, right fucking now.

you tilted your chin down, watching him go inside you. a euphoric rush went all throughout your body, sweat glistening down your chest. your cunt took in every inch of him, his stomach muscles flexing with every sweet thrust.

your moans became a symphony blended with his, a delicious mix of "fuck" and "right there". he planted a few kisses and sucked on your neck, purple blooming on those very spots.

and goodness, did the two of you fuck like you were the last two people left alive.

bracing your hands on his shoulders, hal picked up the pace, hitting your spot with rough precision. his lenses were now fogged up. you thought for a second that he might have wanted to take them off, but fuck it, he was so hot like this.

you spread your legs a little further, watching his lower stomach pound against your core, the sounds of sex reverberating through the wooden walls of the kitchen.

you were so, so close to coming-

your orgasm hit you like a truck, your clit pulsating and your walls contracting around every inch of him. you groaned in pleasure, his thrusts not stopping, fucking you through your orgasm.

"oh my god, baby, i love you." hal panted, his biceps tightening as he held your hair and your back. "i'm so close, where do you want it?"

he was so sweet like that, always making sure you felt safe and happy in his arms.

"i love you too." you replied, rasp rimming your words. you looked down at your bare stomach, and he gave a curt nod in return.

slipping his hard cock out of you, your pussy blossoming around him, he began to stroke himself, the slick sounds of your juices mixed with his only making you drool.

something about him, naked like this, in nothing but his glasses...

your eyes locked once again, both of you shuddering in anticipation.

"you want it on your tummy, yeah?" he asked playfully, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

the only thing you could respond with was a breathy "yes" as you leaned back just a bit more, your eyes glazed with lust, making yourself his canvas.

"that's a good girl. fuck, i'm gonna come." he panted, "you ready, baby?"

"give it to me, sweet boy."

your seductive words were enough to make him spill all over your stomach. he came with a loud groan, a final thrust into his fist. ropes of his cum reached your collarbone, making you a sticky but beautiful mess.

his chest heaved with every breath, his abdominal muscles twitching, the fog in his glasses finally clearing up.

he leaned into you, kissing you passionately, and you wrapped your legs around his torso. he held you in a powerful embrace as the two of you brought yourselves back to earth.

"that," he breathed between kisses, "was so amazing," he giggled softly, "i wasn't too rough, was i?"

you gave him a smile in return. "of course not, you were perfect." you adjusted his glasses, placing a kiss on his nose. "i love you, hal, never forget that."

"i love you too, dear." followed by a soft kiss on your forehead.

and here you were, naked in your kitchen, covered in your boyfriend's cum. you sure had a lot of cleaning up to do after this, but it didn't matter. all what mattered was that the two of you were together, enjoying the solace shared between two lovers.

and even better, there was no evil monkey present.

"here, let me help you." he grabbed you carefully by the waist and lifted you up off the counter. "let's get you some clean clothes."

he held your hand and began to walk upstairs to the bedroom, but you stopped him with, "wait, what about the waffles? they must be cold by now."

you were right, the whipped cream on the waffles had soaked into them, making them quite soggy.

hal chuckled softly at your little observation. you were always looking at the bigger picture.

"i'll make you another batch." he gestured at the stairway.

he really was perfect, wasn't he?

"come here, i'll go run you a nice hot bath. you deserve it." he added at last.

you followed your boyfriend up the stairs, holding his hand, as if you didn't just have the most earth-shattering sex on your kitchen counter. you giggled innocently like a little girl at the thought.

and with that, you and your loving boyfriend spent the rest of your morning over a warm bubble bath, a delicious plate of waffles, and a cup of hot coffee.

life truly couldn't get any better than this.

︶⊹︶ ︶୨୧︶ ︶ ⊹︶ ︶⊹︶

thank you all so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. i'll be back soon with a bill fic, stay tuned! :D

[menmuncher]

OUGHHHHHFFFFF @littlemisslonglegs CARRYING TTHE MONKEY FANDOM ONCE AGAIN!!!! it's such an honor to be tagged in such a masterpiece, mwah

[pink-zombies]

shelburn more like shelburn right.

hey so i'm literally in love with hal shelburn so here take this. pssst i adore comments and reblogs so much they literally keep me going!!!!!!

hal shelburn x afab!reader lots of emotions and oral sex hell yeah

God. He’s so pretty. Fuck him though.

Most of your time spent with him was like this—girlishy daydreaming about him, how soft and kind his brown eyes always glinted under any shade of light, the cozy sienna colored sweater he wore when it got chilly enough outside, the strength and chisel of his hands, even the stubble across his jaw—and how it would feel against your inner thighs—

Ugh, snap out of it. He’s talking to me. I need to listen. Also I’m supposed to be mad at him for ghosting me.

You refocused your attention on the man in front of you, his desperate expression, worried, terrified, eyes reddened and shoulders slack in defeat–wait, had he been crying? A pang of guilt speared your heart for having the audacity to oogle the poor man while he was currently having a mental crisis. Or a spiritual one. Or physical? You weren’t actually sure what was wrong, now that you thought about it. 

Hal had texted you, misspellings and incorrect grammar–very unlike him–merely an hour or so beforehand, insistently begging to come over to your apartment. The first place you’d kissed him, all those months ago–fuck him for leaving me. Why did I even agree to meet him? But that had been months, nearly eight, to be exact–and you hadn’t seen him since. Your heart had been shattered, your feelings for him swelling over the weeks you’d known him and his kindness, his respect for you, his gentle nature, it was so, so easy to just trust fall and drop off a cliff into a whirling pool of love for Hal. However, he’d just as quickly released all contact with you as he had begun it when you’d met.

When you’d opened your door to his persistent knocking, you were surprised to see him look so… relieved? Or maybe he was just that happy to see you… but he didn’t appear to be happy, per se, just calmed by your living, breathing, existing, not-dead, presence. 

You were angry, rightfully so, and hurt, and heartbroken, and above all else, confused. What on god’s green earth would have made him text you twenty three times to see him this late at night? After not speaking to you in so long?

“You know I’m still pissed at you, Hal. Like, you fucking ghosted me–what, are we in high school?” you broke the silence in your frustration. Hal looked up at you with watery eyes and damp lashes, large hands crossed on your dining table. He had been crying. What the fuck?

“Please. I just–I can’t lose you, too.” you could hardly hear his whisper, broken and downtrodden, and he literally looked like he could start sobbing into the tabletop at any moment. Like, huge, ugly, can’t-hardly-breathe, stuck-in-his-throat, kinda-really-embarrassing sobs. Your heart clenched for him.

“W–what? What do you mean, Hal…?” Worry bounced through your brain cells, and your breath stopped in its tracks, your body froze as if seen by Medusa herself–because suddenly, he was dragging himself out of your dining chair, coming around the bend of the table–Hal’s hands were on your cheeks and his lips were on yours, hard pressed and utterly desperate, nipping at your lower lip in a question, begging to please, please, please, don’t go, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me–don’t die. 

But you were none the wiser to his fear of your untimely, unnecessarily violent death, as his body was absolutely shaking, his hands trembling as they pulled you by the upper arms into him, clutching onto you as if you would quite literally dissolve into thin air if he didn’t. The lights in your apartment seemed to fade down into blackness, disappear just like Hal had months ago–it was dark, and the only thing that mattered anymore was you, was him, the mere atoms’ length that was in-between your bodies.

“Hal, baby–what is wrong? Talk to me, Hal, please–” 

“I–I can’t–” he shuddered amongst heated kisses that were then being trailed along your jawline, your throat, the sensitive sides of your neck, his stubble igniting flames in your belly that he’d been stoking for the year you’d known him. “I can’t tell you right now, I’ll explain it all later, I just–just need you, please,”

He needed to know you were real, there and then–not broken into pieces in his arms, not lifeless somewhere in a pool of blood–some yours, some not–that you hadn’t succumbed to the curse that wrought his family name, the sickly cymbal crashing and dark fur and spiralled eyes and aneurysms and shotguns and stampedes and hibachi knives–that his stupid, selfish, ignorant, asshole older-by-three-minutes brother hadn’t turned that goddamn key and taken your innocent life away–

How could he tell you that the reason he’d left you was because his dumb-fuck brother had gotten ahold of that childhood heirloom and was wielding it like a goddamn sword? That he’d hoped distance would keep you safe–you, the only thing good in his fucked up life anymore–his son adopted away by some tree hugger healer never to be in his company again, every relative passed onto the other side freakishly and undeservingly. You, in all of your compassion and love for him he didn’t deserve, the guilt from turning that motherfucking key all those twenty six years ago, were here now. The distance be damned because Bill was back in town and close enough now to inadvertently (intentionally) end your life—and Hal wouldn’t put it past him to continue turning and turning and turning just to get under his dumbshit brother’s skin—to destroy him once and for all.

He had to save you. But he didn’t know how to tell you. So showing you, apologizing to you, making up for every empty night wondering why he’d left, why he had stopped showing up, why he’d blocked your number, what you had done wrong, why, why, why–giving you himself, it would make it more palatable for you to understand why you had to leave this town behind for good–leave him behind for good.

Any lingering anger, annoyance, negative feelings towards Hal’s sudden departure and return vanished into nothingness at the absolute brokenness of his voice, the desperation in his movements against you—the magma boiling in your gut at every press of his full lips to your skin, fluttering down your chest and kissing every inch of you that was exposed over the hem of your t-shirt. You would pry into him later to find out what the actual fuck he was going on about but right then, you could feel Hal’s erection pressing into your thigh, his chest heaving breaths, soft panting grunts ricocheting through your eardrums and your head was spinning, round and round and round til you felt as if you had jumped dimensions, timelines, lifetimes, something. Large, warm hands grasped onto you as if you were a lifeline, inching up underneath your loose t-shirt and coming to a rest on your waist beneath the fabric, all the while his mouth found yours again, kissing the soul from your lips, his tongue pressing gently but insistently against your bottom teeth. 

Hal was so manic and frantic in that moment, it almost worried you more than it aroused you. You pulled back gently, pushing against the man’s shoulders to get his attention back on you, away from pressing kiss after needy kiss to your entire face. 

“Okay, okay, Hal… hey, you’re okay, just, hold on—“

“Do you—do you want this? Want me? I—I can stop, I just—god, there’s so much, just—don’t leave me. Please. We can stop but just please, please stay home tonight—“ Hal literally whined through his teeth, eyes filled with unshed tears, lips trembling. You didn’t know what to think but damn it all to hell, you missed him, you wanted him, and you knew that for sure at least.

“Hal, I’ve—wanted you since we first ran into each other. I’ve wanted you this whole fucking time I just—you left, and you wouldn’t text me back, wouldn’t call me back—and I thought I’d never see you again,” you sniffled pitifully, feeling yourself choke on a sob. “I thought you were done with me, and it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad when you left. I have missed you, so, so much. I don’t give a fuck what insane shit you’re going through, I’m here, baby, I’m here. Please—I want—I need you,” 

With that, there was a pause—a stillness in the air of your tiny apartment. There was a drop, in a spiritual sense—an enlightenment that you understood, as if the Universe itself was speaking to you through children’s toy monkeys and faint whispers of terrified screams and painful memories of death and immortality, love for a sibling that didn’t love him back—it was like you already knew everything that Hal brought with him, his childhood and adulthood alike dragging behind him like a rotting corpse, unable to dispose of it, unable to hide its darkness that permeated his every waking move. You saw that awful, decomposing thing that he sloughed along, and you sought after him regardless, clung onto him like dried blood clings to fabric, to floorboards, to door handles—so much blood, dripping across you both, soaking through to your bones, drenching everything and everyone you loved.

He crashed into you once more, harder, this time—his need outweighed his fear for once—his anxiety, his trauma all bubbling up to the surface and pawed away by your hands at his belt buckle, tugging at it until it finally pulled itself undone, taking no time but a single beat to shove your hand down Hal’s jeans, grasping onto his hard cock like it was your oxygen and he sobbed into the crook of your neck at your gentle fingers surrounding him, his skin so aching and smooth and needy in your palm, you had an inkling this wasn’t going to last long for the poor man—if his heavy breathing and whining and hiding his face into your shoulder was any indication.

“Please—please—fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me,” Hal mumbled into your skin, panting and sweltering, and you swore the temperature in your apartment rose by ten degrees or more, your already wet cunt throbbing in attention at his sweet, pathetic begging. In all of your fantasies about him, those three am evenings with your vibrator between your legs and palm clasped over your mouth, calling out his name, clutching the sheets and imagining his body draped across yours, pounding you into oblivion—it never crossed your mind that maybe, it would be the other way around—him begging for you. It made sense, Hal had always been the gentler twin, the kindest, most generous man you’d ever known, nearly submissive in his presence around you, always ducking his head in reverence at you, smiling sweetly with pretty teeth when you wrapped your arms around him, or called him and invited him over to hang out at your place, or caught up with him over coffee, as if he didn’t deserve your attention. Psh, poor touch-starved idiot. 

You know what. Fuck yes, you mulled over in your mind, bubbling and airy, light as a feather as Hal’s hips started moving, thrusting into your hand as well as he could given the confines of his jeans—and you obliged him, gently meeting his movements in small, sturdy strokes—until you felt literal tears dripping onto your shoulder, his voice broken into babbling shards, unable to form words to give to you, just pieced together curses and praises and rampant begging. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in any way, but especially this way—and even then, thinking about it, none of those other times could ever amount to a fraction of how you felt pressed against him in that moment. “Fuck, Hal, this is so—good, you’re so fucking hot—“

A breathy moan slipped from him at your praise—you turned your head to kiss at the man’s neck, planting your mouth there and relishing in his pulse against your lips, felt it getting higher and higher the longer your hand remained in his pants. You absolutely had not been expecting that reaction (to be fair, you hadn’t been expecting seeing Hal ever again, either) from him and the pit of worry deep in your gut stirred; you knew there was something god-awfully wrong, but you slowly placed that pot on the back burner to turn fully to Hal, give him everything you had, and then some—just like you’d been wishing to do all this time.

So you caved, pushed him back to sit down in the dining chair once more, and before he could even hardly respond or whine at the loss of your hand on him, you sank down to your knees right there in your tiny little kitchenette in your tiny little apartment, Hal’s eyes blown wide at your advances. The time read nearly two o’clock in the morning, sleep stung at your eyes, your body aching after a day’s double shift, but the energy that pulsed through your soul radiating out from your center—it was alive, it was there, just like Hal was, just like you still were.

Palms splayed across strong thighs, you didn’t bother to pull Hal’s jeans all the way down—there wasn’t enough time to do so, it felt as if there was a ticking clock embedded in your brain that was driving you to get the man’s cock out as quickly as humanly possible. He was beautiful, every inch—from his little curls atop of his head, to the tippy top of his toes, to the soft patch of dark hair underneath his navel, he was beautiful. He was yours, dare you say it. Yours. Mine. Mine. All mine—

You took no time in burying yourself into him. Starting with an open-mouthed, wet trail of kisses from his navel down into his hipbone, sliding his cock into your mouth in one solid, gentle motion—slow, looking up through your lashes into the dimness of your apartment, the only light the one above your stove a few feet away—bright enough you could see Hal’s eyes roll and flutter shut, his head fall backwards to expose his throat, the full-body shake and tremor of his strong hands as they immediately found their way to your hair. Not pulling, not even a slight tug, there—just twining the strands though his fingertips, just solidifying your presence—speaking surely of your existence. The loud, long groan of your name you heard from his lips shot rocketships to your cunt, soaked and neglected and wanting, the weight and taste of his cock on your tongue adding jet fuel to the already raging inferno.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, please—that feels so good—you feel so good—“ he outright panted, the words broken up into gibberish, maniacal language that he could barely articulate over the wet heat of your mouth. You rolled your shoulders back and planted both palms on his knees, thumbs rubbing soft circles into the fabric in comforting little motions—you didn’t need your hands for how desperately you wanted his cock, letting your instinct take control. Slurping insistently with every pass downwards, laving your tongue up the underside of his dick every pass upwards, he was a goner, thrusting and squirming in your chair, his shoes pressing against your upper thighs, hands touching all over your forehead and hair, back arching against the wood.

The redness in his cheeks could just be made out in your view as you occasionally looked up at him, his own eyes squeezed shut hard, as if he couldn’t bare to look at you, or you would dissipate, and all of this would suddenly be not real anymore, and he’d be alone again—cold again, with nothing, noone, just himself and that gnawing terror lurking around every godforsaken corner he turned.

“God, you taste so fucking good, you look so good, you’re so fucking perfect, Hal, fuck–” you reluctantly let him go with a wet pop, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him off while you took a short moment to catch your breath, daring to look up and steal a glimpse of him. Expression one of bliss, of agony, his hair mussed up, eyes wild and nearly disbelieving, glasses askew across his nose, one of his elegant hands come up to clasp across his mouth to stifle any noises he may have been making, his t-shirt bunched up across his ribcage. I think I love him, the tiny little voice declared in your head. The man looked as if he were about to break down into tears entirely. This wasn’t exactly how you had pictured your first time with him but, it was perfect, he was perfect, you couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect in your life.

“Oh, oh god–I’m–I’m close,” He whined as you opened your mouth and encouraged him to slide back home, to thrust up, fuck your face like you really wanted him to, swallowing his cock with even more fervor at his strained words. Both hands were suddenly back in your hair, sweeping the strands away so he could see your pretty face and to hold you where he needed you as you took him down, down, down as far as you could, cockhead pressing to your soft palate and you gagged wetly, relishing in the sloppy noises and saliva and precum dripping from your lower lip as it stretched around his dick, tears pricking your eyes–you couldn’t help but snake one of your own hands to settle between your thighs and find your clit in little circles as he chased his pleasure, letting himself go for once in his life–putting himself first, even if it was only for these few suspended moments. It meant the world to you.

Once again, that dead, moldy corpse of abuse that weighed him down like a train, those threads of fabric that kept that trauma close to him beginning to unravel with every buck of his hips into your mouth, every swirl of your tongue against his cockhead, in the way your eyes shined as your gaze found his, the gentle noises of encouragement that reverberated through your throat as you sucked him off, the smile he could feel on his dick–and when he was able to make out your hand moving furiously between your own thighs, that he was enough to make you, this perfect, selfless, compassionate spectacle he would never, ever deserve–touch yourself, it was over for him. Desperate panting, cries of your name and a tangled bunch of whimpers and pitiful noises–pleasepleaseplease I’m gonna come pleasefuck–

Hal went silent but his body went taught, back arching like a bow, hands curling into your hair and you stayed as still as you could so he could grind his cock down into your mouth, spurts of hot liquid flooding your throat, spilling down your chin and onto the floor, a sharp cry of your name and some intangible curse escaping him–you gagged harshly in between murmurs of mhm, mhm, mhm, frantically swallowing as much of him as you could, not wanting any of him to go to waste as he rode out his orgasm. Your hand came back up from your cunt, grasping onto his dick to lick up any remaining fluid still there, alternating between hot drags of your tongue and soft sucking kisses to the underside. One of the man’s hands cradled the side of your face in awe, in gratitude, before gently pushing your mouth away, too much too much too much. Un-attaching yourself from his cock felt like a genuine heartbreak, but eventually you laid down one last kiss to the soft patch of skin right above his dick and dragged yourself back up to sit back down in the chair closest to you.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you relished in your view–Hal’s chest heaving, arms limply resting on the arms of the chair, his eyes watery and flickering, that gorgeous mouth hashing out pants and weak exhales. His glasses were almost halfway down the bridge of his nose, and you reached out to carefully pluck them back into their rightful place, giggling and leaning forward to kiss Hal’s sweaty forehead, absentmindedly going to curl a lock of his hair between your fingertips. He hummed softly at your touch, breathing cascading back to normal as he came back down from his high, face the most relaxed it had been all evening.

For a few long moments, Hal wrapped his arms around your middle to hold you close, and he could relinquish the monkey, could let go of the past–and clutch onto to you, and some semblance of a possible future, with you.

“I didn’t–I didn’t, um, hurt you, did I?” gentle brown eyes flicked to yours, suddenly nervous, embarrassed. You couldn’t help but snort out a soft laugh, placing a palm to his cheek, stroking a thumb across his pretty face.

“Hal, if you’re referring to the gagging–please, that’s exactly what I was trying to make happen, baby. Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” a half-smile broke his face, still unsure of himself, but calmer now, much calmer than he’d been in… shit, twenty six fucking years.

“Do you–do you know how long I’ve wanted that–wanted you? Hal, I think about you all the fucking time, I’ve wanted all of you for so goddamn long–I miss you,” you don’t know how he had that kind of effect on you—bouncing back and forth from overpowering lust to debilitating emotion like a ping pong ball. It was strange, overwhelming, the kinds of feelings Hal Shelburn aroused within you, but you couldn’t deny them, and by the look of heartbreak and want and affection and pain in his eyes, you deduced the feelings were mutual.

Simultaneously, there was frustration, and love, and hope, and fear—all mixed together, lust and wanton bodies and words and actions that should have been said and done months ago sandwiched between it all. You took it all, desperate and quite literally pulling him out of the chair and pushing Hal to your tiny couch in the middle of your living room, gut aching for him and anything he was willing to give you.

“Please, Hal—don’t make me beg you, please,” you gasped out, pressing to him again and again, swallowing his grunts of surprise as you (carefully) threw him and yourself down onto the sofa. “Please, just–just touch me, make love to me, something, fuck,”

Widened eyes, Hal gulped hard, near disbelieving that he had done this to you–worked you up this much, your pupils blown with lust, with adoration, he couldn’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to the outside of your knee–that simple touch sending you into some other dimension where monkeys didn’t exist and people that you cared for like you cared for Hal had maybe gone to therapy at some point in their fucked up lives.

Hot spirals of lust pooled in your gut as your back pressed up against the armrest of your couch, watching with half-lidded eyes as Hal moved his body in-between your open legs, carefully, slowly taking one and throwing it over his shoulder. Just the texture of the man’s t-shirt and the warmth of his body against your lower leg had you nearly drooling, and the sight of him beginning to press tiny kisses to the arch of your foot—your ankle—your calf—the bend of your knee—each one deliberate, meaningfully placed, a story told from him to you—how he desired this, you, how he wanted to finally come home to you and spill his guts and tell you everything and never feel that god-awful terror that wormed its way into the inner workings of his spinal cord again.

“Can—can I…?” Hal whispered to you, holding on to your raised leg, his other hand suddenly very, very close to your center, soft fingertips dancing patterns along the hems of your underwear. His question was punctuated by an immediate, near-furious nod of your head, words failing you at your anticipation of his actions, just the way he looked in front of you had your throat closing up.

As Hal fumbled with hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, you took a solid, quiet moment to stare up at him—in all of his glory, he was there, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration and adoration at you and your now-almost-nude body. The rest of the world didn’t matter then, not relatives or friends or any other—just the two of you, and his hands as they dragged the soaked fabric down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Fear was long forgotten and time slowed to nearly a halt as Hal made to part your legs father, letting the foot not across his shoulder drop gently to rest on the floor so that you were entirely exposed to him; and your gazes met through the bright darkness of your living room as he shifted to his knees before you, mouth dragging a trail up your inner thigh. 

Your earlier thought of his stubble rubbing against your skin was made reality as he finally, finally pressed into you—

“Hal, Hal, fuck—fuck—“

—one long, deliberate stripe of his wet tongue right through the folds of your glorious cunt, settled by small presses of his full lips around your clit and up to the junctions of your thigh and pelvic bone, his exhale caught on a moan at your taste, his lashes fluttering sweetly. You could feel your face scrunch up in pleasure almost immediately, a short gasp of breath, both hands reaching down blindly to card through his hair as he continued to kiss and kiss around your pussy, teasing flits of his tongue to your lips—murmuring like he was in a trance, brain entirely shot from just your pretty cunt.

“Jesus... so pretty..” you could hear him babbling between smooches, deep voice muffled by his head being in between your thighs, so close to your aching flesh you could literally feel Hal’s words as his lips moved, as if he were burying his praise into you. Absentmindedly, you mulled over how this all felt like fate, like every choice the two of you had made had resulted in this—no accidents here.

White-hot fire burned in your gut as Hal settled into you, one of his large hands clutching onto your hip, the other resting on your lower stomach, his mouth dragging upwards through your cunt a few times, just feeling you, familiarizing himself with your taste, his eyes closing shut in focus, in reverence. You could hardly breathe it felt so good, looking down to find him dopey and docile and content, as if his emotional state from previously in the evening had been entirely eradicated, buried away just like his face between your thighs, his glasses once again crooked and pushed to the side—barely-there whimpers and noises of bliss poured from his lips that you retaliated with your own groans; you were intoxicating.

Parting your legs even farther so Hal could really ease himself into the junction there, he pressed his tongue against every inch of you, experimentally teasing and licking you to locate the exact ways to touch you to make your hips twitch. Your breathing was heavy, your fists grabbing at the man’s hair, silent begging for him to continue, forever, never stopping his mouth on you or leaving you ever again–I don’t give a fuck what insane shit you’re going through, Hal, I’m here. Don’t leave me again, please, please don’t stop–don’t leave.

After some time of gritting your teeth, breathing his name, hips bucking, his mouth finding you over and over again, Hal eventually found a careful rhythm, a lovely back-and-forth motion across your clit with his tongue that made your head spin uncontrollably, your toes curling, back arched into a slope. It was entirely too late for either of you to still be awake, and you were both aware of it–Hal even more so, soft pitched sounds of children’s music and a drum-beat drowned out only by the desperate, perfect noises you were making–and he decided, deep down, that even if those cymbals and music and god-awful spiralled red eyes became alive in that room at that instant, he truly wouldn’t give a fuck–nothing, not even the promise of death could pry him from your cunt, arms locked around your hips so you truly were going nowhere, exposed and split open on his hot tongue–he would rather die than ever let you go, and if he did–some hacksaw embedding into his back, sniper rifle hitting him between the eyes, toaster in the bathtub, freak accident falling into the tiger den at the zoo–he would leave this lifetime happy, with a genuine smile on his face because he finally got to have you after all this time.

So he pressed on, fully divulging into making out with your cunt, tongue flicking in circles around your bud until you were dragging yourself up the armrest of your couch-–oh my god, Hal, fuck–that’s so fucking good, fuck I’m gonna-–and your fingers insistently pulling at his hair, thighs shaking and clamping around his face, grinding your hips to chase him down, all lips and tongue and stubble against your pussy and nose bumping into the curve of your mound and pretty brown eyes looking up at you so innocently and hollowed in cheeks as he gave you one, two, three, four, five consistently-fucking-flawless suckles to your poor, needy little clit, sloppy noises of his determined pull-and-release crowding your mind and taking away all cognitive ability, all higher brain function giving way to find room to entirely black out and fill full of nothing but Hal Shelburn and his perfect fucking mouth and his perfect fucking face and his perfect fucking… everything, goddamnit–

“H–Hal, fuck, please I’m about to–oh, god–”

And you were coming, harder than you think you’d ever come, no other lover ever treating your pussy like that–as if it, you, were their single most important priority in their entire existence in this lifetime. It truly was devastating, your cries and wails and broken phrases foreign to your ears, like something had been unearthed within you, hands and feet scrambling for purchase and you quite nearly fell off of your couch in your thrashing and thrusting upwards to follow that striking hot blaze as long as you could–and Hal indulged you wholly and completely, ignoring the buck of your hips hitting his glasses and causing them to fall off his face, finding your clit with gentle slides of his tongue and kisses so soft they hardly accounted for anything, but everything compounded into you drenched and melting into your sofa, an arm thrown across your face and the other hand clutching onto his hair still as he worked you down tenderly. 

Blissed out and utterly spent, you lay there, shaking through the aftershocks of an orgasm so intense you could have nearly dreamed it–just like this entire night, Hal’s return, his willingness to indulge you and the desire you’d had for him all this time that apparently, had been mutual all along. That biting, gnawing worry you’d felt earlier at the man’s obvious emotional turmoil had vanquished and blended together into stark contentedness, suddenly overtaken by emotion and feelings you didn’t want to feel but couldn’t deny their existence, especially not when the object of those affections moved away from your precious cunt with one last deep kiss right up against your overworked clit–and trailed upwards to your chest with panting breaths and tiny whimpers, a hand blindly searching for his glasses that had been knocked away by your thrusting hips.

He tasted like you when you kissed him, deep and soft and telling, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as he planted his lips to yours over and over again like some internal device wouldn’t let up. You hadn’t realized tears had pricked your eyes until Hal’s thumb was coming up to wipe them away, gentle shhh’s and words of adoration, of love and I’m sorry’s and I’ll tell you everything and I won’t leave you again’s breathed against your cheek.

Internally, Hal faced his fears head-on, his previous but un-wanted idea to tell you off, force you to leave town, beg and plead for you to please, please, please leave me behind, I am nothing but bad news for you, I can’t handle you dying, go live your life and be free of me and forget about me and my fucked up baggage–had all been eradicated and make clean by the taste of your cunt lingering on his lips, the feel of his cock down your throat, your mouth pressed against his. Suddenly, Hal wanted to live, to prosper, as long as he could have you at his side, no monkey or shitty sibling relationship could ever alter that feeling he had when you looked at him, reverent and loving and like he was everything, every blessed thing that walked this earth, no other would ever make do.

When he felt you crying, he gave in–told you all of it, every piece, every detail of every corner and nook and cranny of his story, every death in brutal, bloody detail–half expecting you to turn away in disgust and kick him out of your apartment for good in fear, anger, or worse–disbelief. 

But you didn’t. You stayed, still half-naked and exposed right there on your couch, damn near five in the morning, with Hal’s hand in yours and your other rubbing gentle, comforting circles into his shoulder as he figuratively spilled his guts about literal spilled guts. You believed him, every word he uttered–and wrapped your arms around him when he finally let go and let all of that that he, nor his brother, did not deserve, trail down his face in hot tears and choking sobs–you believed him, and laid his head in your lap, pushing fingers through his hair, swirling patterns across his neck, singing soft words and comforts to the poor man that you had decided, I do love him, actually, I do.

And despite his brother (who he still painfully loved and wanted a relationship with, even after all of this bullshit he’d done and/or threatened to do) having full custody of that godforsaken monkey, wielding that power over his head, over your head, Hal made it a point to stay there with you that night, and the night after, and maybe every night after–no clash of cymbals could ever keep him from you, anymore, nor you from him.

[pink-zombies]

Cause like

What if Bill, poor Bill, in all of their hallucinations and nightmares and visions of the monkey, even at the strip club—

—ended up fucking said stripper after taking her home, thinking he was fucking the monkey, cause poor baby has some strange, almost sexual connection to that damn thing, damn thing that ruined every aspect of his already pathetic existence, even though it was his fucking idiot brother that wanted to marry it, that was obsessed with it, not him, not Bill, Hal, he was Mrs. Monkey before it ever spoke to me—

—turns the key while railing her, cock deep inside of her and panting breaths and pleasure unfamiliar zapping up their spine, brain flooded with dopamine and sugar sweet lies straight from the monkey’s possession over his mind body soul, it screams at them to turn turn turn I’ll fucking kill you next if you don’t turn my key turn the goddamn key Bill you worthless fuck—

—so he does. And the poor girl he’s gotten into bed with him after so long because god knows no one has ever touched him willingly like this, made him feel worth it, never made them feel good, just like Hal just in a different way, same brand brother different flavor twin, dies right there beneath them, some blood splattered pop of her brain or her heart or liver or whatever, caused by his fingers turning the key of the monkey he’s suddenly holding in his arms while their cock is buried in her— he doesn’t remember ever picking up the damn monkey—

—would he feel guilt? remorse? yes, the girl from the club wanted to go home with him, charmed by his wit and strange appearance, but of course she hadn’t wanted to die in this way, what with this stranger fucking her into oblivion, muttering under his breath about some monkey some child’s toy some dumbshit brother—until she was no more, so fast she didn’t feel it, at least—

—and he’s left there, trembling and shaking with his face in his hands, covered in this poor girl’s blood and organs and whatever else, panting and confused and crying and bile coming up in their throat and screaming trying to get the fucking blood out of his suit—this wasn’t supposed to happen, I thought this wasn’t real, I thought she was the monkey, I saw it, I saw it, I saw it, why did it kill her—suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and terror at what they’d become. What the monkey had taken from him—

—everything. It had taken everything.

[pink-zombies]

quick ns//fw thoughts of the night bill shelburn edition (because hal may be my number one but. bill is also right there) (also yes bill is nonbinary they/he fight me about it)

they absolutely would slap you across the face while pounding into you and you go absolutely wild for it

the name calling… oh the name calling. they call you all sorts of filthy things like slut whore cumslut etc etc

fingers you rough as fuck, makes you come all over his hand over and over til you’re screaming into your own palm

really likes to use a vibrator while they’re railing you (hal would also do this but like, in a sweet tender way LOL opposite of bill). he holds it to your sweet spot and won’t let go of it for like, way too long even after you’ve come several times. bill enjoys pushing you to the edge and nearly making you tap out

DEFINITELY WOULD FUCK YOUR FACE AND MAKE YOU DEEPTHROAT IT til you have saliva and come gushing out of your mouth and dripping down your chin

likes doggy and pushing you into the wall/a mirror/the tv sets in their “house” while fucking you from behind

would threaten to turn the monkey’s key (basically threatening to kill you LOL) while fucking into you—like literally holding it in front of your face with his fingers hanging on to the key—on nights that he’s really manic and going through it mentally—it scares the living fuck out of you but it’s so arousing at the same time

orgasm denial LIKE CRAAAAZY because they’re a fucking prick and a bully and are power hungry through and through. sometimes bill literally won’t let you come for days on days while he gets to enjoy all of his orgasms because again he is a DICK

basically fucks you because they’re bored and have pent up anxiety/irritation/emotions and need some sort of physical outlet. he maybe would start caring about you a little over time but it would be nothing like how hal sees you. both twins have a ton of baggage but bill’s is also intertwined with mania and some level of psychosis/possession? from the monkey entity. in my opinion anyways

[menmuncher]

ABBBBBSOOOOLUUUUTEEEEELYYYYYY

me 🤝 zombiepuke

agreeing that bill would most definetly threaten u w the monkey

[menmuncher]

hiii your username is absolutely legendary (^_^)

u r such a cutie :333 thank u sweetheart!!

[menmuncher]

to everyone reposting/replying and even just reading my fics, know that i'm sooo happy to have you here and the positivity is truly making my day!!! :3

[menmuncher]

u write for the monkey twins im gonna smooch u

💋💋💋 they r so Gorgeous , how could I not... glad u found me :3

[menmuncher]

R UR REQUESTS OPEN BTW!! if so do u do headcanons fics drabbles etc

HAIIIIII SWEETHEART oh absolutely I do!!! send it whatever you'd like!! i feel incredibly honored that someone likes my fic(s) enough to be requesting smth 😭🥺

[pink-zombies]

ns//fw thoughts below

hal would be so sweet in bed… all passionate and gentle and really taking his time with the only goal in his mind to make you feel good

he would go down on you for hours at a time until you quite literally couldn’t take anymore. and even then he would beg you to come for him just one more time

he would be clinging to you, deep down fears of you dying in some incomprehensible way right in front of him manifesting as him fucking into you at a pace so slow and deliberate and deep it has you woozy and dick drunk and so in love with how he makes love to you, so in love with him

he is noisy. all quiet moans and sharp inhales of breath and the whimpering. goddd the whimpering. you make explicit mental notes of everything you did to cause those reactions out of him, how you touched him, how you kissed him there, how you swiveled your hips while riding him to make his eyes roll and a soft, pathetic whisper of your name and god, please, you feel so good pour from his beautiful mouth

i have lots of thoughts about hal shelburn

[menmuncher]

the monkey Bill/Hal Shelburn x fem!reader

a/n: I've been obsessed with 'the monkey' and WAITINGGG for a fic to come out of it (it has been 4 days) but i've found nothing- so i'm taking it into my own hands, hehe. i couldn't choose a brother bcuz they're both hot (duh. but I fear i'm leaning towards bill because i enjoy weirdos) so why not BOTH!!!1

synopsis: head cannons? of the brothers. not at the same time because we know they wouldn't share.

warnings: NSFW, oral (both receiving), stalking, abusive relationship, creepy behaviour, bruising, slapping

HAL

when you first started going out on dates with him, you both really enjoyed it. he would usually take you to those cheesy spots teenagers would go to as their first date: some places like the movies or a bowling alley.

as these dates passed, you grew closer.. but at the same time, you would meet less often? once a week turned into once a month, but you couldn't understand why considering every time you did see him again he'd almost be emotional with how excited he was - clinging onto you like a puppy

you tried to initiate more time together but were always met with an excuse. it had to be on his terms or nothing, which obviously upset you. you began to feel a sort of anger towards his neglect and decided next time you saw him; you had to say something.

and so it happened, you guys met at a small diner in Maine and he obsessed over you as he always does after not meeting for a while. you had about 10 minutes of strength before you began to break down mid-conversation, begging for an explanation why he hardly took the time to see you anymore

this broke him; he didn't wanna seem insane to you but he also didn't wanna risk you leaving. he weighed his options for a minute before ultimately deciding to take the easier route, not that either would be simple

he explained the monkey to you. you were silent the whole story, jaw-dropped. once he finished, the silence didn't end. he waited for you to throw water on him, call him a psychopath and walk out... but it never came

you... actually believed him? hesitantly, for sure, but you were willing to trust him for this relationship. now he was the one breaking down - he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable around you and there was no shot he would be able to keep it together at this moment.

you told him you'd be fine and you were willing to take the risk as long as it meant hanging out with him more. he didn't want to put you in this position, but he nodded. he was too far into you at this point.

from then on, the days together become more frequent though he pays the same attention to you as he always would after missing you.

he's so nerdy but so attentive. he loves to buy you flowers and your favourite meal every Sunday on his way home from work. if you try hard enough, you're able to keep 3 weeks worth of flowers alive at once.

"these reminded me of you. i think the lady said they were dahlias? they bloom so beautifully and reflect such a bright color, don't you think?"

he's clingy, too. he loves to lay on your lap when you watch TV together - though, he's usually asleep within minutes of resting his head. it's okay because he's cute which makes up for it.

he has panic attacks every now and then due to nightmares about the monkey, but just holding him and combing through his hair is enough to bring him back to peace

he'll cook for you sometimes, too. it's not the best cooking, but it's the thought that counts. his favourite to make is pasta, probably because it's easy.

after you've been together for a while, he'll take you on more casual dates. still a movie every now and then but mostly just a dinner at his house or a drive in the car with long conversations, where he obviously lets you have the aux. he knows you enjoy simple things like that

now, into the NSFW stuff.

he loves when you're being pleasured. he thoroughly enjoys eating you out and grunting into your pussy so you can feel his enjoyment.

he enjoys getting oral, too, of course - but won't make that the main focus. it's only if you're feeling up for it. he gives you words of affirmation while you do it

now, when he fucks you - it's usually in the bed. you being comfortable is the #1 thing to him

he's okay with you being a pillow princess. he enjoys being dominant.

but if you wanna take over? he's happy to take that as well. he's really up for anything.

he's pretty vanilla, honestly. will put a pillow under your back so you're in a comfortable position as he angles himself perfectly into you, hitting your g spot with nearly every thrust and talking you through it.

even though he goes deep and likes to control you, he's so gentle. treating you like glass and ensuring he doesn't squeeze your hips tighter than he would your hands. he couldn't handle seeing you with bruises.

he just needs to show you how much he really loves you and appreciates you staying despite his screwed up baggage

BILL

you weren't looking for a partner when you found him. you had seen an ad in the newspaper looking for a 'long lost toy monkey'.. it was bizarre, considering you could probably buy your kid a similar-looking one without him noticing.

but you had a toy monkey. you kept it as a collectible, and it sounded similar enough to the ad. you don't remember where you got it from but it wasn't anything special to you so 15 bucks was enough to have you handing it over. when the guy came to your door, he looked disheveled. he had a terrible haircut and kind of smelled.. his outfit was weird, some sort of suit sewed into a tight black fire shirt with a key necklace. you knew a lot of people in this town but.... never saw him before?

why he was wearing such a complex outfit to buy a toy monkey from you? no clue.

you took the 15 bucks, exchanged a few words then shut the door after making the sale. turning from the door, you went back to sit on your couch before your doorbell rung again.

what else could he need? he had the monkey. you walked towards the door and opened it up to have him smiling at you. something he hadn't previously done. he was silent for a minute, just smiling.

"....can I help you?" you asked, before he spoke

"uh yeah, I was wondering.... could I get your number? you are like, really good looking."

you paused for a moment, taken aback. that is not what you expected him to say. you bit your lip and contemplated- he was kind of handsome.... but there was no chance. he was a weirdo coming to pick up a monkey from you. not to mention he had absolutely zero sense of fashion.

"yeah, no" you said, closing the door. it was harsh but you didn't wanna conversate with him anymore. you were way too tired, so you went into your room and eventually fell asleep.

from that day on, you started seeing him everywhere. he would be shopping at the same supermarket as you, passing you when you'd be on a walk, and appearing at the bar every time you went out with friends. it wasn't until you had a bit of alcohol in you that you finally got enough courage to talk to him.

"this guy's a creep, i'm ending this." you said to your friends, pushing yourself up from the bar despite being warned and going over to the man sat by himself at a table - some sort of alcoholic substance in his hands.

"what is this? you're absurd" as you got closer to his booth, you saw that he wasn't in fact alone, but had your previously-owned monkey sat beside him. your face scrunched up in even more disgust

"I don't know what you're talking about.." he didn't even look at you as he continued to sip his drink, acting like this was normal.

"you're harassing me! I don't even know you!" you began to scream in his face now as he displayed little to no emotions and kept his vision locked on his glass.

"will you look at me?!" you exclaimed, leaning over the table and grabbing the monkey from the couch beside him- now he looked at you. reaching a hand out to grab at your wrist, tightly, his teeth gritted.

"leave him alone" he sneered as he tugged it from you, not completely pulling it from your grip

"him? it's a toy!" you tugged back at it as he almost growled. he stood from the booth and fully took it from your grasp this time, holding the toy to his chest. he was breathing heavily as you both stared into eachother's eyes with anger. you were left speechless, this guy was clearly mentally ill.

suddenly, his angered eyes softened. he breathed out whatever he was holding in and sat back down. you didn't speak ither, half expecting him to just get up and leave with the toy. instead, he spoke:

"this monkey reminds me of my late dad. I don't know why, but he just.. does. i've been so lonely ever since my dad left." thanks to that kid, Ricky, for inspiring his sob story. even if bill's dad was still around, he couldn't care less whether he was dead or alive.

his sad confession definetly wasn't a proper explanation to why he was stalking you.... but for some reason, you felt guilt.

he didn't need to say it. it was clear he took a liking to you because of his obsessive behaviour - and wanted this loneliness to come to an end. so, with a sigh, you stupidly submitted in an attempt to cheer him up,

"i'm sorry, I can understand being lonely.. I mean not in the aspect of friends, or family, just like-" he looked up at you and when your eyes met his you stopped.

"..what i'm trying to say is, would you like to go out sometime? maybe we can make each other less lonely." he smiled at you, something he hadn't done since he was last on your doorstep, and nodded.

you didn't really bother explaining that to your friends later on. just dismissing the conversation, claiming you "solved everything".

you started to go on dates with him. none of them really requiring spending money- he always suggested something like a park, which also made you feel bad for him. so much so that you began to initiate actual restaurant dates.

it actually wasn't going bad. he was definetly odd, and embarrassingly enough always wore the same outfit, but he began to be more attractive the more you hung around him. eventually, you forgot how weird he was.

when you two were close enough, he became obsessive as he originally was. he always needed to be near you. he always came over to your house - never even inviting you to his as it was "too messy"

there wasn't many romantic gestures he'd do, besides telling you how much he needs you and how he would "die without you"

he followed you around everywhere. he'd whine that he wouldn't want to go to your places, but would go anyway just to be in your presence.

throughout all this, he always kept the monkey just as close.

bill loved being inside you. unlike his brother, he wasn't gentle with you. at all.

he'd toss you around and fuck you pretty much anywhere he could. he would breathe in your hair's scent as he dug his nails into your thigh and pounded you. he didn't care about whether you were comfortable or not- therefore you two would frequently end up on the ground or the table.

he couldn't be submissive. besides that time at the bar, he was never again vulnerable around you- especially not during sex.

he loves receiving head. he'll tangle your hair into his hands and push and pull at it as he rapidly fucks your face. he doesn't really care for giving you air to breathe, this is his time. his pace is so rapid as the sounds, almost screams, echo the room. slapping your cheek each time you tried to pawed at his thigh in an attempt to stop him.

he's selfish. he doesn't really give you head. if you ask really nicely, he might finger you for a minute or so, kissing your slit until he's tired and wants the attention back on him.

there wasn't much aftercare. he'd just go to sleep, so neglecting of you which you hated. it made you question: should you have ever offered him a date? what would've happened if you just called the police?

when you go to confront him one day about mistreating you, he immediately goes into a rage. screaming and cursing something about how he has always been watching over you to make sure you're safe but has just been met with selfishness in return.

the argument got so deep that you eventually threatened to walk out. that's when you were once again, put face-to-face, with your toy monkey.

okay this isn't much of an ending but i'm out of ideas and this was turning into more of a fanfic about bill SORRYYYYYY

[menmuncher]

Little angel Longlegs x fem!reader

a/n: i've seen quite a few tumblr posts asking for a longlegs fic, and while i've been among those waiting.... i decided to make my own. i'm too tired to proofread, sorry -~-

sypnosis: You're one of the detectives put on the Longlegs case, and for some reason, he takes a liking to specifically you. (Pretend Lee Harker doesn't exist)

w.c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of stalking / obsessive behaviour, swearing, EXTREMELY perv behaviour (this man is disgusting), masturbation, age gap (y/n is legal!!!), noncon, oral, slapping, mention of vomiting, blackmailing, degrading, spitting, restraining, choking, exhibitionism?

24 minutes. That's how long he spent repeating your name to the interviewer, again and again. He ignored every question that was sent his way, only being able to correctly state his name before the obsession with yours came through. Maybe he liked how your name sounded on his tongue?

The TV clicked off and the other officers were ushered out of the room - leaving only you, the chief and one other detective. Your eyes remained fixed on the television, the black screen taunting you. The other members of the room, however, were focused merely on you.

"What is his obsession with you?" The older woman asked you, waiting for a response. All you could come up with was a murmured "I wish I knew", eyes still trained on the screen. The longer you stared at it, the more you started to imagine. It felt like the video was still playing and your name was still being repeated.

"How would he even know your name?" the chief asked, but this time no response could be mustered. You didn't know anything - you couldn't! Yes, you had been hunting down this guy forever, so you KNEW him and all the sick things he had done, but from afar. The investigation has never been public, meaning it's nearly impossible this guy would know you were after him, let alone know you at all. Your thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the chief snapping his fingers in an attempt to capture your attention, you looked over and made eye contact with his concerned face.

"Where is he now?" Urgency was in your voice. You wanted to talk to him and find out how he discovered you and why he was infatuated by you specifically.

"First floor.. room 102. He's down there by himself." The female officer replied as your head switched into her direction. You nodded slowly, an indication that you had heard her.

"Can I talk to him now?" The detective nodded in return.

"Go ahead.. the officers are gonna remain on this floor, though. Do you need someone to come with you?" She asked with a stern look. You were new to this job, but you wanted to prove to them that you could handle this yourself. They were hesitant enough based on your age to even involve you in this case.

"I'm good" You responded quietly, making sure the hint of nervousness in your voice was muted. You stood from the extremely uncomfortable chair and pushed pass both of them, proceeding to the building's staircase. There wasn't anything to be worried about, really. He was in handcuffs and the department would just be on the floor above you, so why did you find yourself quivering? Every step down the staircase and towards his room felt heavier. Each echoed with a stomp throughout the hollow walls. After what felt like forever, you finally reached the door and lightly collapsed your back against it. Steadily breathing to try and calm your nerves as you took in any distractions around you. Looking up at the popcorn ceilings and stalling, you practically counted how many of those "popcorn" bits there were.

After about 2 minutes, you turned your body around to face the door. You were sure that he was aware of your presence by now - you weren't the most quiet after all. Though it's like he read your mind, because just that moment you heard a nerve-wracking chuckle coming from behind the door to confirm your thoughts. Nerve-wracking for you, that is.

You placed your shaky hand on the knob and without anymore hesitation inside your being; you opened it. Immediately, he sprung up and outstretched his arms - at least as much as he could thus being attached to a table. You shut the door but remained about a foot from it, not sitting down on the free chair across from him just yet.

"There she is!" He exclaimed, breathing heavily like he had just ran a marathon. You had seen his face a billion times now in your head and in footage/photos, but seeing it in person made it feel like the first. He looked to be 70 or so as his face was decorated in wrinkles. Such a pale complexion, you weren't sure if there was any light behind those blue eyes. Blue eyes should be beautiful, but these were pure evil.

You hadn't replied to him. You froze as you studied him from top to bottom. So he continued,

"Oh, little angel.... I've been waiting for this, for sooo-" He dragged the sooo out for about a minute, but for some reason you didn't feel the need to interrupt him. You went ahead and walked at a cautious pace then eventually sat down, keeping a distance from him. You pushed your chair in but not fully. It took about another 10 seconds after you sat down for him to finish;

"-Ooooo long!" He said with a big, toothy smile painted on his face; his teeth looked disgusting, to say the least. And you were perplexed. He was truly odd and thus, your face twisted in disgust. He was definetly not a good first psychopath to interview on the job, if there even was a good first. You watched as he sat down. Enough of the thoughts, you had to get into the interrogation part now. Abruptly, you realized you hadn't even been prepared for questions. You wanted to shout "What is your obsession with me, creep?" but you had to keep it professional. Maybe start by asking him how he knows you. You went to open your mouth but were interrupted-

"I've been watching you, y'know...." Well that was, obvious.. How he had been? That's a mystery that you wanted answered.

"What do you mean? How did you manage to "watch me" while you were killing all these people?" You began to interrogate him, and unlike his experience with the other officer - he actually listened. Waited for you to finish your question before proceeding; though it wasn't necessarily an answer.

"I remember the day you decided to go to the law enforcement.. We had such a big laugh about it - Though it was only me who laughed, not you.." His mind was all over the place and it seemed his speech was as well. He knew you very well, that was something you had already established.

"You didn't answer my question, Dale. This is your investigation, not mine." He bursted into laughter right in your face, spit flying across the table. You assumed it was from his previous "joke", about him laughing and not you. You leaned back, this was already tiring. He began what sounded like a poem;

"The 7th she, to be given the same choice that they've all been given." You sighed heavily, he was terrible at this - even if it was his first day. "Crimson or clover... Accept the gift, and destroy it; and destroy yourself and yourselves. Or keep it, and bow down. Bow all the way down. And get right down to the dirty, dirty work. Work that gets dirty as it cleans; like a mop. Like a rag."

"Dale!" You had to cut him off. He was spurring gibberish at this point. Whatever words came to his head would also form out of his mouth.

"You're such a good girl, you know? I see you, always saying your prayers" You couldn't tell if that was sarcasm - you hardly prayed, and you definitely hadn't in public. Maybe he meant the small blessings you'd say before bed? If he truly saw it, that'd mean he somehow had a view inside your house.

A groan erupted from him. He must've really enjoyed spurting these strange noises, or it could've been some sort of stim. But he was pretty repetitive, making sure he was loud with his warning sounds. The people upstairs probably thought you were beating a response out of him.

"Why are you so obsessed with me?" You asked, but the only response was another groan. Louder this time. That's when you realized his hand had slipped from the table and was now somewhere else.

You pushed the chair out and stood up. Enough of being patient and professional with him. "What the fuck is your problem, creep??" You blurted out, nearly falling back but catching your balance. He just let out a low chuckle in response.

"Such a pretty little girl.. I can hear your heartbeat." He stated, making the ending come out in more of a sing-song voice as he continued his groans, this time turning into more of a moan. You could see from your position now, although you didn't want to, that his hands were fully in his pants. You turned towards the door and marched as he continued his sound effects, now beginning to exclaim a "Ba-bump! Ba-bump!" following the speed and sound of your heartbeat. He was mocking your fear, he liked it and as this situation appeared, got off on it.

"Wait!" He screamed out of nowhere, startling you. That was the loudest he had been and now you were sure the people upstairs had heard. You didn't want to but something inside drew you to listen to whatever excuse of a protest he had next, you turned on your feet to see him - face down on the table. His body was slumped over and jolting slightly, he was laughing. Your patience was very thin with him, and thus, he looked up - making stern eye contact with you. His hands had stopped fumbling.

"I'll give you allllll the answers your little mind desires if..." He paused and looked to the wall, though there was nothing there, then focused his attention back to you. "you'll be my slut"

Anger rose within you and you marched right back over to him, with more confidence this time as you landed a hand across his face - slapping him. His face was cold, and immediately the red began to rise through the white skin. He had no reaction. Rather, he went back to playing with himself under the table. You spat at him and it landed below his lip.

"You disgust me! You think I'd stoop so low as to give you my body to solve this case?" As you ranted, his tongue darted out and passed the dripping spit that had shot at his face. He took it in his mouth, so blissful that you'd swear you weren't screaming in his face right now. He bit his lip as a whimper slipped through. He waited for you to finish then continued speaking, he knew what could get you.

"I assume you don't care if your team finds out about your past... do you?" He now made eye contact with you after refusing it for so long. What was he talking about? Suddenly, your face turned.

Before this job, you were very low on money - leading you almost into homelessness. You started a few scammy sites online and through those, took people's money. You never got caught for it, though - being able to remain anonymous. That had to be what he was talking about.

"How do you-" You looked at him and paused, sadly. There was no point in asking him anything anymore. You just had to comply. Not only would you lose a job, you'd also spend probably 10 years in jail... And you were sure you were too young to be wasting a quarter of your life behind bars.

He could see the gears turning in your head as he stared up at you from his sat position, he knew just as well as you that you had no other choice. You looked into the distance silently before swallowing hard, "What do you want me to do?" You felt disgusted as he began to erupt in evil-laughter, just like those you'd hear in movies.

He took his hand out of his pants and placed it on yours that was waiting on the table, and with a light flinch, you turned your attention to him. There wasn't anything said for a solid minute - just him studying you. There was so many things he wanted to do to you, and it just turned him on more considering there was a crowd of officers just a floor above you two.

He stood from the chair and you watched cautiously. He grew more as he rose and he turned out to be a LOT taller than you. He looked down on you like prey, and placed a hand on your waist; which was moving up as much as his cuffs allowed him to. At the end, his hand travelled back down and made its way to wrap around your wrist - wrapping perfectly around you like a bracelet. He held it tight then brought it away from the table, which you not-very-willingly followed. When you arrived at his dick, he gasped.

"Go on, princess." he said in a tone which just increased your need to vomit. You began to palm him through his pants that were part-way down from earlier. His volume immediately increased, which you couldn't tell if it was from being touch deprived or wanting everybody to hear.

He was about 5 inches, which you'd expect. You rubbed up and down his length with force- well, more of an anger, really. As you did so, the man placed his hand atop of your head and began to play with your hair, continuing his erotic noises. He tugged at your hair every now and then, producing an "ow!" from you which only served to make his cock twitch.

His breathing was so heavy as he pulled you closer to him until you were the one that heard HIS heart beat. He basically tugged you against his chest, the stroking him faltered for a second. Slap!

You yelped out and used your other hand to rub your cheek, now turning red. You looked into his eyes with such an anger as you yelled at him and pulled your opposite hand away, "I can't do this!". The mark hurt so badly that you're sure it'd bruise tomorrow. - which would, no doubt, make your coworkers concerned.

"You have no choice" He said through gritted teeth, as he grabbed your hand again to bring it back to its previous place. He was right, you didn't have a choice. This felt disgusting and made you wanna quit but, it was ten minutes of this or being locked up for awhile.

His noises didn't stop, exaggerating every single one as if he was cumming the whole time. His hot breath graced your ear. After about a minute, it was time to switch things up. The hand that was previously pulling on your hair stopped, and instead began to push you. Down.

You shut your eyes hard as you knew what would come next and braced for it. Reaching a kneeling position on the floor, you swear the cold tiles were burning through your clothes - taunting you.

"Have you done this before, little girl?" You hated this enough, but the way he spoke to you like you were a child just made it worse. You didn't even bother to respond as your eyes re-opened and you began to play with his pants' band, tugging them down as slowly as possible before you were interrupted. Your hair was tugged back harshly as he forced you to look up at him, the other hand darting to your chin and squeezing tight. You whimpered under his touch.

"Respond!" He shouted in your face, now it was his turn to have spit fly at you. You were trembling but you tried to hold it back as much as you could as you didn't want to turn him on anymore than he already was. You nodded quickly, wanting to get this done and over with but he shook his head with a tsk tsk.

"Pathetic little angel needs to use her words." You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you mumbled out a small yes, causing the grip on your face and hair to loosen - allowing you to get back to your unwanted work. His pants were down by now as you went ahead to drag his boxers down his body.

"Oh, I knew you were a little slut." He laughed at you. You ignored him as much as possible, though it was hard right now, otherwise you'd snap. You noticed that he actually had already came in his boxers - though you didn't have a clear time of when that happened. His laughter brought you closer and closer to tears so when you realized it wouldn't stop, you began to kitten-lick his tip in order to shut him up. It did, as he returned to his series of noises. He was being softer with your hair now, as he lightly gripped it in his gross hands.

You continued to lick and eventually wrapped your mouth around the tip, making him start to tremble. Despite his age, it almost seemed like this was his first time. The way he shook made it look like his knees were on the verge of buckling. It wasn't even shaking anymore, more of a jolt.

You slowly but gradually slipped the whole thing into your throat, which proved pretty easy as he didn't carry much girth. With a sucking pressure, your head bobbed back and forth, causing him to let out a growl combined with "good giiiiiirl". You didn't gag around him, ither. His hands still combed your hair as you went up and down his length, your tongue circling the base everytime you'd make it to that spot. He tasted salty and the flavour of his cum (from before) just increased that. There was somewhat of a pulsing that flew through his dick and you assumed he was close to cumming. It had only been about a minute. You began to feel short of breath and pulled away briefly, which turned out to be a terrible idea.

Immediately, he shouted something unintelligible and grabbed you by your throat - pulling you up from the ground quickly. You hadn't noticed till' now how much your knees had been hurting from the hard floor, but that wasn't the focus right now - his hand was around your neck. You opened your mouth to scream but he brought up his other hand just in time and covered it,

"No breathing!" he growled through gritted teeth as you gasped for air beyond his hand. You felt so small right now as your big, terrified eyes looked into his dark ones. Everything happened so fast as you were suddenly slammed into the metal table with a loud thump, your head hitting it and practically making your ears ring. Despite all this, his hand remained around your neck and began to tighten - he was choking you now.

"Angel, I have to......." he breathed out, "I have to remove my hand but remember what's at risk if you scream" He said in a whispered voice as you took in big gasps of air once you were free of his hand and somewhat free of his grip on your throat.

You tried as hard as you could to catch up with your breathing that you didn't even notice what he was doing. He was pulling your pants down. It was almost done, you hoped. Just this and he'll be done with you and you can get your answers. And your freedom! He smiled as your underwear went down with it aswell.

"Little angel....." You could hear the smile as he spoke. He poked and prodded at your clit, like he had no idea what to do with it. You only whimpered as it was practically impossible to get wet right now, but you assumed he was trying. If anything, it hurt. Something you didn't expect was him to immediately stick it inside you. You couldn't help but yelp now as your dry hole took him in with such pain. You expected him to be mad but he was too entranced, it seemed, as he began to push in and out of you. He let out what sounded like a howl as you shook your head and clenched your eyes shut. This couldn't get worse.

Suddenly, his hand tightly squeezes your neck again - muting your noises of pain though your facial expressions still proved that you felt you were being tortured. He leans down as he pushes in and out and licks up your empty neck, making it to your face and giving you suprisingly light kisses as he says:

"I'm not letting you breathe until I cum..." That was your final straw as you opened your mouth and let out a scream, except nothing came out. There was no breath and no noise, he had you trapped and mute. You continued to try despite the failed attempt but nothing was working, was he gonna kill you?

You went on to thrash around and he just laughed it off, going in and out of you, taunting you as he announced his actions. "In and out.... In and out....." you wanted to cover your ears but you were trapped under him. If his size didn't make you bleed, him entering you raw was sure to. Each pump inside made you feel closer to death as his pace sped up to match your quick heartbeat. That was definetly intentional, which he brought back his heartbeat sound effects just to confirm.

It had been a minute now and your eyes were starting to go black. Pain was shooting you from everywhere as his pace felt as if it was damaging your insides. The sound of his effects and noises was beginning to fade out as the feeling of passing out began to overtake you. This was a terrible idea.

Just then he yelped, a wet sensation spurting into you as your throat was let go of. He carried out his thrusts until he was completely drained, and you took in air like you never have before. It was like drowning. You didn't even care about the fact that he came inside you in this moment as you desperately took in oxygen with your eyes now wide open.

He was breathing heavily as he pulled out and pulled his pants as well as boxers up then sat back down in the chair. Just like that, he was done. He leans back and now, just to pull your last string, says "I wish I wasn't in here so you could be my little angel alllllllllll the time...."

You caught your breath and ignored his words. Blinking hard as your vision made its way back. You never had felt so close to death - you looked around the room with such a huge relief and sudden passion for life despite almost losing it. You couldn't look at him anymore, it was everywhere but him. Your head tilted back, the room was pretty empty.

Besides the camera the investigator had brought in earlier.... was that red light always on? Oh, fuck.

[menmuncher]

anything you say... sub!ethan landry x reader

reader is afab! i will make a amab one soon :D

a/n: the last time i made fics was in middle school..... im a senior...

warnings: smut, dubcon?, profanity, degrading, knife kink, mommy kink

"I always wanted to stick something inside of you, y/n!" He yelled from beneath me, his knife going close enough to cut me a couple times as I hung from the balcony. Sam had took down Quinn, dying in the process to her bleeding out wounds. Next was Tara against Bailey, shot each other at the same time ending in her fate along with his. It was only me and Ethan.

"Fuck you!" I tried to swing my leg up and catch myself onto the railing, throwing me off my balance in the process. It was no use. I could only kick down at him.

"Fuck you!" he yelled. I skimmed his head a couple times before I felt sharp pain in my ankle. I yelped, dropping down from the balcony and landing right on top of Ethan who was now on his back. He struggled and attempted to throw punches at me. But I kept strong, it was satisfying to see the way I overpowered Ethan. I was waiting for him to lift his arm and take a deep stab into my chest angrily. A stab for the death of his father, his sister, his brother. Why was he waiting?

He turned enough that I was switched onto my side, falling off him slightly. My leg hit the ground and the physical pain deeper than before as blood gushed out of my leg. Wait.....

I sat up quickly launching at my ankle, Ethan stopping me abruptly as he grabbed my hair in the process and tugged it. "And where are you going, you sweet dumb thing?" He pushed, as a soft groan escaped his throat.

I grunted as I pulled the knife from my ankle and flipped myself onto him. The knife right in front of his eye, now he was scared of me. I took his hands out from under me, pinning his wrists above his head. He trembled nervously under my grip.

"Now you die a virgin...." I lifted the knife to stab right into him, carve this fucker's eye that took my friends. His eyes began to tear as he started to sob.

"Please..... I'll do anything!" He exclaimed, his hands struggling to reach out and hide himself. He was out of breath, tears streaming his face as his nose and cheeks a dark red.

"God... you're crying?" I mocked him, spitting on to his messy face. His nose runny and his lips trembling. What happened to his dominate side, the side wanting to kill me?

I took the knife to his cheek, not breaking skin but enough that it stung as I slid it down. His adam's apple bobbing with a gulp as his eyes followed the object. A tear dripping onto the metal.

"Anything you say..... so I could carve my name into this pretty face of yours?" he whimpers, cautiously nodding. The knife dragged down to his lip as I poked the edge into it. The punctured hole in his lip now dripping with crimson blood. I felt something raise from underneath me.

I felt a soft throb against my core. I shifted on top of it eliciting a mewl from the black haired boy. He was stuck now. His eyes gave me a quiet look of help.

"Awww and what's this, whore?" I grinded down onto his bulge with force. He knew I wasn't just shifting anymore. He sucked in a sharp breath, licking the blood dribbled from his lips as well the spit. Nervousness in his face.

"It seems like you want this." I said, rising from his belt area and unzipping his jeans. My fingers grazing the soft bulge in the process.

I brought the knife down from his face and with it, cut through his boxers. His length being exposed now to me, rock solid with pre cum dripping down the shaft. He flushed with embarrassment. The way the knife traced his pelvic bone, the heavy breathing-

"P-please I can't take it!" He shouted out. Was he gonna pussy out now and let me kill him? Or was he intending that he needed me to go through with it already?

"You're gonna need to use your words, sweet boy." I grabbed his chin tightly between my palm as his cheeks squished, a slow nod coming from him. If Ethan was wearing mascara, his whole face would be black by now with the way he wept. The mixture of spit, drool and tears blended together on his face into a messy wet glob.

"I just...." He throbbed as he spoke, stuttering "I need you please. I haven't done this before." he grew more ashamed as I laughed in his face, mocking him. I placed the knife in my back pocket as I ran my hand down his toned abs, rubbing his member softly. He licked his lips.

"So you're gonna let your mommy teach you?" His lip trembled as I wrapped my hand around the base and began to stroke up and down slowly. Little whimpers left him as his hands struggled against the restraint holding his wrists together, which were my hands. His eyes jammed shut.

I was going so slow with his cock, making sure he knew I was the dominant one here. He didn't reply to me until the strokes came to a halt. His eyes now wide open as he looked at me, confused. Dumb little puppy didn't even realize what was wrong.

"If I'm gonna do this instead of sticking a knife right down your throat, you're gonna have to be good and be obedient when I'm speaking or asking questions." I said angrily, landing a harsh slap across his face. I bit into his neck and sucked, a soft yellow had formed slowly into purple as I pulled my lips off.

"Y-yes mommy, I want you to do this to me." He muffled and my hand repeated it's pace, him settling back into the ground as the tension spouting from his lower region had lessened at the pumping around him.

I bobbed my head down wrapping it around his dribbling cock, sucking him off while my hand gripped and twisted the base of it. My hair fell in front slightly blurring my vision though when I looked up, I could still see Ethan's glossy eyes. I moaned at the sight of him looking so helpless, the vibrations erupting a reaction from his throat.

He hadn't stopped moaning as he watched curious. This was just like he had seen in porn videos. Though even then, he had hardly jerked himself off. He was just a shy, nerdy virgin - just not so much when he was costumed.

"I-I'm gonna cum mommy." He mumbled in between groans, he was about to explode. Not just his cock. All of him. From his tomato red face, his trembling body.

I was wet but not wet enough. I pulled my mouth and hand from him as he mewled, beginning a protest about how I couldn't just give up and pull away before he came. His tip was cherry red, face twisted in anger until I shot him a look.

I took my hand away that was pinning his wrist as I used it to stabilize myself over his body, his eyes wandered my body as I unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my breasts to him as I moved his hand to touch them. He was so shy about it, groping them slowly.

"I'm not wet enough baby. You'll have to use your tongue." I lifted from him temporarily, removing my pants and underwear as I placed my cunt onto his mouth. Grabbing at his hair, he began licking. It was messy, he wasn't a professional of course but the way he really was going in to get it all wet felt good.

I moaned out as he took me by his mouth, the slobbering even making a slimy glow on my thighs. I didn't want to sit on him too hard, that was until he found my clit. Riding him, now I was the one desperate for attention.

"You did such a good job baby" I said signaling I was wet enough now. When I shifted off he whimpered, though his bratty attitude was only for a second as I lowered myself onto his cock. He breathed heavy and even though I was not fully sunken onto him, he jolted up into me as I gripped his needy bucking hips.

"I'm doing the work you stupid whore, not you." I said through gritted teeth, faced with a muttered apology. I sunk down to his base and began to bounce, fucking myself on his cock as he whimpered louder than I'd heard.

He wasn't really thick but he was long, the feeling of him almost being in my stomach made me moan his name. He produced a soft grin, it didn't really matter if he was gonna die now. He got to lose his virginity, he wasn't the last one of the core four to be without-sex because of you.

"Look love, you're in my tummy. Aren't you?" I placed my hand over the lump that was now going in and out and he was unable to even speak out a response. His mouth open like a fish, only moans and groans were audible.

I felt the feeling build up in my stomach, Ethan stuttering to me how he was gonna come. I bounced on him faster as he played with my breats and then, I was milking him. His hot cum squirted inside me as I did the same, his noises errupting louder than mine.

"Good little Ethan." I shifted off him as he trembled, putting my clothes back on. It took him a few minutes before he was able to stand again, yet he still grinned. As he looked down to zip his pants, I reached for the knife in my back pocket.

Stab. Right through his head until I felt it reach his brains. My face now soaking in blood, while panties dripping in cum. Remember, this was to my advantage; not his.