He takes inspiration from you when making his masks. Some of them have your features painted on them, like moles or the shape of your eyebrows.
He likes to dance with you, but he’s not very good at it. You have to make sure he doesn’t step on your toes or wrench your arm around a bit too roughly as he twirls you.
At the dinner table, he will give you some of his food, making sure you’re always well fed and happy.
He considers you married to him, no matter how you feel or your actual marital status. You’re more so married by symbolism, rather than you both actually going down to a courthouse.
After doing something, he will look to you for approval. He’s always seeking praise, especially from you, and he would get sad if you didn’t show him you were proud of him.
He likes stargazing with you. He’ll lay out a blanket and make some tea and just stare up at the stars next to you for hours.
Whenever anything goes wrong, he always looks to you for a solution. He thinks you’re very smart, and trusts you with his life. So, even if you aren’t sure what to do, you better figure it out, because he’s depending on you.
He’s been yelled at before for rushing through butchery and chores to get back to you. The solution is you being in the room with him while he does his work.
He likes dressing up with you, especially when you two wear matching outfits. Your outfits usually follow a color theme or you both share an accessory like a matching set of ties together.
You more than likely have a dynamic where you’re the more outgoing one. If you’re just as shy or avoidant as he is, then you’re both fucked.
He’s rather unsure about your affection for him, considering how he looks and how he’s used to people’s mockery or revulsion. This leads to a constant need for reassurance and comfort.
He’s clingy, almost annoyingly so, depending on your tolerance for clinginess.
Along with being clingy, he’s highly territorial. Even someone just looking your way could send him into a murderous tantrum, that you’d have to calm him down from afterwards.
He definitely introduces you to the shrine he made of his mother, as if she could actually accept you or not.
Once he trusts you, he actually spends a lot of time around you without his mask on. But, that level of comfort takes a while.
His undead body has varying levels of decay based on how well he cares for himself. You definitely try to prevent any uncontrollable rot from occurring.
He’s a mastermind at getting what he wants from you. His puppy dog act is surprisingly effective, a habit from childhood.
nsfw under the cut!
Nsfw Headcanons:
It takes a while to get him comfortable with the idea of sex, considering he dislikes it when others have it so heavily.
Once he actually has sex with you, it doesn't actually stop the killing, he just only tolerates sex when he has it with you. He’s a bit of a hypocrite.
He doesn't always immediately go for penetration. Sometimes he likes frotting/thigh fucking. Dry humping is one of his favorite things to do.
Seeing you in bondage becomes a favorite of his, he likes seeing you helpless.
He can get a little selfish. You always cum, but he likes controlling the tempo and the pace, and he doesn’t care much if you plead with him to go faster or slower. He’s in control.
Sometimes he just would rather cuddle, but if you’re really horny he lets you ride his thigh or his boot until you get off.
He loves making out, cuddling, and the afterglow. Sometimes the buildup and the aftermath are better to him than the actual act.
Pretty Pretty Pretty pleaseeeeee could you do another 'your fav slasher' thing with otis driftwood? 🙏🙏🙏
I honestly got such feeling of nostalgia when I got this request! Because 4 years ago around this time, I wrote the first part of this. It’s crazy how fast time flies…
Anyway, thank you for your request, I enjoyed writing it <3
I did Otis, and added some more slashers, I hope you’ll enjoy 🩸
Keep in mind that this is just my personal interpretation. If you can see yourself in these descriptions, great, I’m glad. If not, that’s okay too.
So…
What does your favorite slasher say about you? 👀🔪 PART 2
Otis Driftwood:
You hate to be bored.
You need unpredictability with your partner, one day you’re doing this together, the next day you’re already creating a plan for another crazy thing.
They need to keep you on your toes to keep you interested.
Dark humor is your love language, and you probably don’t like people who are easily offended.
You may like people with strong personalities, someone who can make the whole room shut up and listen just with their presence.
Art The Clown:
You wild, wild thing…
You are into gory horror movies.
You prefer weird and strange things over normal.
You may be the person who has the weirdest and strangest “fun facts” stored, and just waits for the opportunity to make someone uncomfortable. As a joke…
Or maybe on purpose 😏
You probably like to express your opinion. It is either with spoken words, or even if you choose to stay silent, your expression does the work for you, just like in Art’s case.
Or you may like to express yourself with creativity.
Writing random ideas, poems, stories, and maybe even creating art.
Your type is probably someone who doesn’t say a lot, but their actions speak louder than words.
And you may like when your partner also has an artsy side.
Thomas Hewitt:
You love size kink, I know you do…
You love when someone is protective over you.
You love the Texas aesthetics, and I have a feeling you love animals, especially horses.
I have a feeling you’re a family type of person, or you like when your partner has a domestic side in them.
You may also like dark, rustic aesthetics.
You probably prefer countryside and nature over a busy city life.
You love when your partner fixes things with their hands. When they just know how to deal with things themselves.
Jason Voorhees:
You appreciate when people remember small things about you, and notice specific details about you.
You probably like to be alone, because you enjoy your own company.
You are selective with people, you may not trust easily, but if you truly love or care about someone, I have a feeling you would do anything for them.
That’s why you are probably into people that are also selective of their company, and don’t need to be the center of attention.
Charles Lee Ray:
You either do witchcraft, or you are interested in it.
Things and practices like occult, voodoo, curses and spells fascinate you.
Confidence in others catches your attention instantly.
You like witty people, and people who have charisma.
I have a feeling that older men with long hair are definitely your type...
You probably love night time, and you definitely like reading at night, while being surrounded by a starlit sky, shining moon and a mysterious atmosphere.
Black, red and purple are among your favorite colors.
Warnings: Asshole “Friends” and Mentions of Killing!
Word Count: 1,440
Summary: Despite your protests, your “friends” steal the local legend, Johnny's, locket causing him to wake. You think your fate will match theirs, but quickly notice an attachment Johnny grows on you.
A/N: This isn’t really a “romance fanfic” but our boy Johnny still needs some love. Plus, I haven’t seen a fic for him yet. Hope You Enjoy!
When the girls told you to dress casually for an “outing” later tonight, this — walking in the woods— was not what you had in mind.
Neither did one of your friends’ as she asked the question.
“So, Sara, remind us why we’re all out here again? I mean, it’s not like I’m—babe, stop!—” Cassie squealed as her girlfriend, Ash, nipped at her earlobe. “—complaining.”
“Well, after me and Marcus had some fun last night…” She paused, throwing a wink as her voice turned slurry. “He told me about the local tale of some slasher named Johnny.”
“Ooo.” Ash instigated to hype up the story.
“Basically, to summarize it all, it’s about a little boy named Johnny who fell to his death because of some “little prank.””
You grimaced at the way she said ‘little prank’ as if falling to your death because of a prank wasn’t a big deal.
“Why did they do that? What was the prank even about?” You asked, to which she let out an annoyed groan. “Do you have to ask some many questions, Y/n?”
You flinched at her yelling, eyes drifting to the ground.
“But I don’t know? Some loggers were pissed about the prices going up at the shop, and Johnny’s dad was the owner of them. They thought playing a prank on his son would make him lower the prices, but I guess it took a turn for the worse or whatever.”
The sound of kissing from beside you stopped, bringing your attention to the couple. “Oh, I’ve heard about this tale! The White Pines Slaughter! Apparently the loggers told Johnny there were toys in the old fire tower, and like the dumb little kid he was, he believed them. They tried to scare him with a fire mask and it worked a little too well because he fell and snapped his neck!”
“I bet it sounded like a KitKat bar!” Cassie joked.
The sound of the 3 girls laughing made you feel sick.
How cold do you have to be to joke about something like this.
“Guys, that’s not funny! That’s horrible! He was just a kid who wanted to play with toys,” you frowned.
“Oh my god, really Y/n? Really?” Sara judged. “Are you seriously feeling bad for some man who's been dead for 70 years!”
You didn’t answer, deciding to let them whisper about you.
“I forgot that miss goody-two-shoes was here. She’s such a party pooper!” Ash complained. “Yeah, we should’ve just left her at the dorms.” Her girlfriend added.
“Guys, guys, enough insulting Y/n, we can do it later. Here’s what we walked for.”
You ignored the last part of Sara’s sentence and looked up to see a rusty wooden axe lodged into the ground, a gold necklace dangling around the handle.
Your brows furrowed. “The axe?” A snicker from Sara was heard. “The necklace you idiot!”
You all stepped closer towards it, a breeze of the cool night air blowing through your hair.
“It’s a locket Johnny’s dad gave him. It was his mother’s.” Sara spoke with a smile. “And I’m gonna take it.”
She began reaching for it but you stopped her by grabbing her wrist. “Don’t.”
She snatched her hand from your hold with a disgusted look on her face. “Ew, don’t touch me! And I don’t wanna hear whatever reason you have to not let me take the necklace, I need it! I’m going to give it to Marcus’s mom when I meet her.”
She tried once more but you stepped in front of her. “Seriously Sara. Don't touch it!"
She looked shocked that you actually stopped her again, Cassie deciding to help her out. “Y/n, move!” She grunted as she pushed you, but you managed to keep your balance.
“If you don’t want to be here while I take it, fine, you can go. Walk home alone like the loner you are!” Sara yelled, her voice echoing around the trees. “Yeah, stop being such a pussy, Y/n.” Ash insulted.
When you didn’t fight back she continued her action, hand reaching out and finally grabbing the necklace. “Perfect,” she grinned while inspecting it.
“Well… since you got your necklace, me and Cassie are gonna go behind that big tree back there and get it on.” Ash cackled while wiggling her eyebrows up and down. “Babe, don’t tell them that! I don’t want them to know we're fucking!” Cassie cried out in embarrassment.
“Guys, I don’t care. Just hurry up so we can get back to the dorms. I do not want to get caught.”
The two giggled as they ran a couple of feet away, leaving you and Sara alone.
“Here, hold it.”
You opened your mouth to refuse but she was already throwing it your way. “Why do I have to hold it?”
“Because! What if it has a disease or something? I have people who actually care about me unlike you. Like my boyfriend, and…my boy—it doesn’t matter who! I’m just important, okay?”
She let out a breath after her very “convincing” rant, walking over to a random bush.
You opened the locket and was met with a small photo of a woman and little boy that must've been Johnny and his mom.
Cute.
Your attention was drawn away due to the sound of…chopping?
You looked around and saw Sara with the same confused look. “It sounds like it’s coming from the area Cassie and Ash are.” She whispered, tip toeing in that direction.
As you both rounded the corner of the tree, the sight almost made you throw up and Sara scream. “OH MY GOD, CASSIE! ASH!”
She began to cry, legs giving out and dropping to her knees as she cradled their heads. “This is all your fault!” She accused, standing up and walking towards you. “Those were my best friends!” she screamed the obvious.
It doesn’t take much to look at you 4 and see that all of them treat you terribly.
They degrade you, peer pressure you into doing things you don’t want to do, insult you, and expect you to keep being friends with them — and for some reason you do.
She continued to yell and call you names, missing the tall figure slowly walking behind her.
“S-Sara,—” you tried to warn, but her voice was over-powering yours.
Her hand rose to hit you but her head was quickly decapitated, the rest of her body dropping stiffly to the ground.
Your eyes were wide, chest rising and falling at an inhumane pace as you stared at the man.
You did the only right thing you could think of and dropped the locket before taking off.
The leaves beneath you crunched as you ran, the darkness making it hard to see.
You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you had to run in order to get away.
Due to the darkness, you didn't see the stick that you ended up tripping on, the thorns catching your jean pants.
You frantically tried to unpick each thorn from the clothing, but you weren’t fast enough.
A hook came slashing down, cutting the stick in one slice.
You let out a scream, eyes closing as you waited for the next unfortunate action, but it never came. Instead, heavy metal clanged and crunched the leaves as it fell, and so did Johnny as he got into a seated position.
“W-What do you want?” you somehow muttered.
He pulled out the locket, leaned over, and placed it around your neck.
You sniffled and looked down at the jewelry, slowly connecting the dots. He was giving you it, he was allowing you to have his mother’s necklace. But why?
Maybe it was because Johnny sees himself in you — the terrible friends, being treated poorly, being ignored, getting insulted. — You’re literally him but in a different time period.
You showed your appreciation with a small ‘thank you’ before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a red toy truck the girls made you buy while at a store. “H-Here, you can have it.”
You slid it over to him, the man-child instantly picking it up and beginning to play with it.
You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face seeing him finally having that joy with a toy. It was all he ever wanted.
You don’t know what you were going to do about Sara, Cassie, and Ash, or what explanation you would give about the locally known locket around your neck to everyone, but you’ll figure that out when the time comes.
For now, you’re just going to sit here and watch Johnny play.
Summary: During an attack, all Stu asks is for you to be unharmed, but things soon go south when Billy does the complete opposite.
A/N: I was going to post this yesterday but I had a massive headache :( Hope You Enjoy!
It was 11:27 PM in the Loomis household, the faint sound of a random rock band playing as Billy and Stu finished getting dressed.
There was a Halloween party up the street and around the corner, but that wasn’t why they were getting all “dolled up” in their costumes, no, they were getting dressed for the spree they were about to go on.
Billy suggested it, saying ‘this would be a good stress relief’.
A house full of nothing but drunk, incoherent teenagers sounds like a dream to him, and Stu being the follower he was, happily tagged along, but he was a little hesitant. Hesitant because you, his girlfriend, was going to be there.
When Billy told him the plan he tried to get him to change the location, but when Billy has his mind set on something, nothing or no one can change it.
“Oh yeah I forgot to tell you, I snuck into the house before the party and put jammers on the windows and back door, so it’ll be 10x harder for them to escape!” Billy laughed, making Stu grin. “So we’ll just enter through the front and— take some anger out!” Billy ordered while putting his mask on, his voice changing mid-sentence.
Stu watched as he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing two of the biggest knives. “Hey, Bill…” he called out. “I’m fine with whatever we do, but I just ask not to touch Y/n.”
Billy was walking towards him when he paused due to his words.
“She’s my girl, and I don’t want anything happening to her.”
Billy let out an annoyed groan. “Why would you let her go!” “I tried to get her to stay home but she wouldn’t listen!” Billy sighed once more, running his black-gloved hand down his face. “Whatever, but it’s not my fault if she gets hurt. Now put your mask on and let’s go.”
Almost everything went exactly how they planned.
Almost.
After Billy checked the back door to make sure it was locked, they made their entrance through the front.
Students were confused as to who these uninvited guests were and why they were dressed in such suspicious costumes, but their confused look turned terrified when the knife came out.
It was chaos, everyone running, decorations being knocked down and broken, people attempting to go to the back door but weren't budging open.
The two boys ran through them, slashing and poking every person they ran by, and it was fun. Stu found joy, completely forgetting you were there until he saw your body slouched in the corner, tears running down your cheeks and hand gripping the right side of your stomach.
He froze, his breathing picking up slightly.
You were hurt. He told Billy not to touch you but he clearly didn’t listen.
His hands shook as he stepped forward, but paused when he saw your body flinch further into the wall.
Right, he was Ghostface, not Stu. He can't help you when he’s dressed in this costume.
He gulped behind the mask, trying to think of a way to help. Just then, the feeling of a hand gripping his shoulder made him turn around. “Hey, what are you doing, they’re getting away!”
It was Billy.
“I told you not to touch her.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. Stop worrying about her and let’s go get the others!”
He tried walking away but Stu grabbed his wrist. “Why didn’t you listen to me! I said not to touch her and you still did!”
You continued to watch as the two black-cloaked figures argued, their voices scarily sounding the same.
“Enough! You knew what this was when we started all of this, and just because some stupid girl is in the mix doesn’t mean we stop.”
It seemed his words had an effect on Stu because he stopped arguing.
“Actually, let me help you forget her.”
Your eyes widened as he started walking towards you, his grip on the knife tightening.
More tears fell, but no sounds came.
You knew it was over. You were already bleeding out and couldn't move from pure shock, but what you didn’t expect was the other cloaked person to stab your attacker.
A gasp was heard from him, the knife clattering to the floor in front of you to which you quickly grabbed.
As he fell to the ground, his mask slipped off revealing it to be someone familiar.
“Billy?”
Your tears of betrayal stopped once you realized you were next.
With weak hands, you pointed the knife in front of you as a threat, but you knew you probably wouldn't be able to actually use it.
“D-Don’t come any closer o-or I’ll use it on y-you!”
He reached up and took his mask off.
“S-Stu?”
The tears came back as you dropped the knife, your brain pounding from all this new-found information.
Billy and Stu are the killers. The same killers that were on the news, the killers who already killed 5 people prior to this attack, the killers that made Stu so worried to even let you come to this party, and now you know why.
He took the cloak and gloves off before hesitantly picking you up, but not without a fight from you.
“Y/n, please stop. Let me get you out of here.” You continued to fight, not knowing if you should trust him. “Please, baby. I promise I’ll tell you everything, but we need to go!” You gave up, feeling the wound on your stomach screaming at every movement you made.
The sound of sirens could be heard as Stu ran out the front door. “Help! Help us!”
Police quickly swarmed the house, 2 Paramedics leading you and Stu inside the ambulance. They closed the door and began taking off, Stu’s hand intertwining with yours. “I promise we’ll be okay.”
He didn’t know how true that statement would be considering some survivors knew there were two Ghostfaces, or the possibility that some weren’t dead but just injured and probably saw the whole dispute, but he knows one thing for sure and that’s he won’t let anything happen to you.
Summary: Michael comes home after a killing spree with injuries on his hands. You tiredly bandage them and you soon realize that the killer likes it when you kiss over his injuries.
The heat from the large blankets became unbearable, and you kicked them off with a huff. Sleeping wasn’t the same without him; you should’ve known not to grow too attached to the idea of it, yet you let the small moments get to you. You turn to the empty spot on the bed, then over to your phone. With the press of a button, it turns on, and the screen light blinds you. A groan leaves your lips at the harsh lights, squinting to turn down the brightness.
“It’s three in the morning,” you groan.
Usually, Michael would be back by midnight, or sometimes at one in the morning, but that was the latest he’s ever been. You’ve been tossing and turning since nine at night. It frustrates you how much you relied on his presence for a good sleep, but your mind wouldn’t shut up unless you knew he was safe and sound. You then sit up with your back against the headboard, pulling your knees close to your chest. Each blink made you want to keep your eyes shut, but now your mind wouldn’t rest.
You felt the air shift. A strong presence entered your home; you knew it could only mean one thing. Michael came back. Sometimes, you found it funny how the mass murderer of Haddionfeild always came back home; you didn’t know whether he returned for you or just for a place to stay. The bed creaks as you stand to your feet and put on your fuzzy house shoes.
Going downstairs wasn’t your first thought; however, you shuffled to the bathroom first to obtain the medkit under the sink. The pit of worry in your stomach was practically eating you alive as you made your way downstairs. A deep sigh leaves your lips once you reach the last step, reaching out to the light switch that turned on the living room light. Michael was there. The first thing you noticed was his bloody hands; it didn't look like it was from his victims.
“Hey, you’re hurt,” you said through the silence.
You watch as Michael turns his head towards you in the doorway, rubbing your tired eyes that were soon full of worry. You stood there with your medkit. He sat in the large black leather chair, the dark circles of his mask stared at you before turning back to the wall. His cut-up, bloody hands got your attention. Someone must have cut his hand in self-defense. The wooden floorboards groan with every step you take towards him.
Michael kept his bloody hands in his lap. You wonder if he could even feel pain anymore. Or maybe he could, and he just didn’t care about being hurt due to always getting beaten up by his victims. But you did. You always cause a fuss whenever he comes home hurt, but a cut-up hand was the most tamest injury he’s sustained that you’ve seen so far. Carefully, you walk towards him and stand in front of him.
“May I see your hands?” you ask with your hand out.
You didn’t grab him, nor pull him towards you; it was his choice to take your help or not. You could hear the faint sounds of his breathing as he slowly raises one of his bloody hands. Now that you got a better look at the injury, you saw that it was more of a gash rather than small cuts; the fresh gash bled and stained his hands.
“Thank you, Mike. Let’s wash your hands first.”
You quickly made your way to the kitchen, and he followed you silently. You did your best to wash his hands gently with warm water and soap, washing around the gash. You went back over to your medkit and grabbed it, opening the white box to grab a sterile gauze pad and placed it directly over the gash on his hand, then you used the white bandage to wrap around his wrist that made its way up to the cracks of his fingers.
You finally sealed it off with tape and did the same thing to his other hand. Once finished, you closed the white box.
“You gotta be more careful out there, Mike,” you said gently. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”
He didn’t move. A relaxed sigh left your lips. Waves of exhaustion hit you now that you knew he was safe and patched up. You’d change the bandages later, after you got enough sleep. You retrieved the box.
“If you want to sleep with me, you know the rule: no coveralls in my bed, you know where your pajamas are.”
You made your way upstairs and put back the medkit. It felt like a massive weight being lift off your shoulders once your body hit the bed that now felt comfortable. As your eyes close shut, you felt at peace. The bed dipped. Tiredly, you open one of your eyes to see Michael in his blue pajamas. It was hard to find ones similar to the coveralls he wears everyday. His mask was still on. He’d never take it off, not even to sleep.
A sigh left your lips as you close your eye to sleep. You felt your body relax, falling deeper into dumber, until a large hand gripped your throat with a firm grip. Your eyes shot open as Michael made you turn your head in his direction.
“Yes, Mike?” you say tiredly.
The grip loosen, yet his hand never left your throat. It took him a while to teach him to make his grip less tight on your neck, it was his own weird way of touching you. His thumb rubs your chin, then snakes its way up to your bottom lip. Gripping your throat was one thing, but he never put his fingers up to your lips before. It made you sit up, as groggy as you were, it had to be something important…right?
You take his hand off of you to hold it. Yet he pulled back, you were too sleepy to figure out what’s wrong.
“I don’t know what you want Michael.” You say with a yawn.
Michael points to the inner palm of his hand where the gash was, then up to his masked face. You did a slow blink with confusion written all over your face. He did the motion again, but more so pointed at his masked lips rather than his face. It then made sense. You always kissed his injuries after patching him up. It must not have crossed your mind to do it, but it surprises you that he actually paid attention to you doing it…and taking a liking to it.
A smile forms on your lips as you take one of his hands. Pressing your lips to the very center in a kiss and did the same for the other one. “Is that better?”
Michael took his hand away afterwards. Stiffly lying down on his back. It was the closest thing you’d get to him relaxing to sleep. Now it was your turn to lie down with him. Your arms wrap around his arm and you rest your head on his chest. He still was still stiff, but didn’t pull away. You soon began to learn that he didn’t mind, if he did, he would’ve pushed you off…he’s done it a few times before.
Remake Freddy alt ending style. He's so willing to give you a beautiful dream - if you let him! Soft or hard, he'll savor you with a decade's worth of pent up charge.
I-If you want to....?🥺
SO it's been a while since I saw the alt ending for NOES 2010 and while I know what happens, I figured I'd go back and rewatch it just as a refresher.
HOLY FUCK THAT ALT ENDING
It's so Creepy and Gross and I REALLY shouldn't be turned on by it but goD it's so gooD
Tags: Fingering, orgasm encouragement/direction, reader has a vagina but no gendered terms are used.
I wrote 2010 Fred kinda pathetic and y'know what I like him that way. He thinks he's a big, bad dom but he is such a snivelling little shit and I think it's HOT-
18+ only MDNI
Fred's been waiting so fucking long to have this, to have you, that he almost can't contain himself. Haunting your dreams, being so close and yet so far, it could only do so much. He needed to get his hands on you. In spite of his eagerness he insists on taking his time. Speaking filthy promises into your ear as his blades destroy your nightgown and leave you bare.
Hoisting you into his lap he presses your back to his chest, using his legs to spread yours. Any fight you put up seeps away as he touches you so gently, treating you like a delicate porcelain doll. His breath washing over your ear and cheek as he continues to pant and mumble. While his touch sends heat into your head and gut, slowly arousing you to a comfortable high, Fred is already a panting mess. You can't see his face clearly from behind you, but the now un-burnt flesh was tinged pink across his cheeks and ears. Watching you through half lidded, steely blue eyes he's absolutely smitten.
Even using his left hand he's deft in his movements. Fingers circle your clit before nestling in next to it, rolling over the fleshy bundle of nerves. The direct touch makes your breath hitch and catch, heart thundering behind your ribs. Your fists dig into anything they can find, which just so happened to be his sweat and blood soiled sweater and the bedding below. All the while, Fred coos praise and encouragement into your ear.
"I know, I know. You feel so good, sweetheart."
Those fingers start to circle wider, just starting to part your lips and dive down lower before returning to their place on your clit. Every time you'd buck your hips to try and encourage them to finally penetrate you, yet they never did.
"I want you to breathe with me, dear. Slowly, deeply. Ready?"
You nod but you barely register what you're agreeing to.
"Good. Now, in."
You feel his chest expand behind you as he breathes in deeply and you follow along, the air catching in your dry and swollen throat. All the while, you fight the urge to moan and whine as his fingers continue to roll over your cunt.
"And out."
Exhaling over the back of your neck, Fred fights the quiver in his own throat. His cock has been straining against his work pants for what feels like hours, but he was going to be patient. In your dreams, he could do whatever he wanted to you. If it meant showing a bit of restraint to fit in everything he wanted, then so be it.
"Perfect. Now again. In. and out."
He repeats the ministrations, guiding you to breathe with him. While it served to clear some of the pleasurable fog from your head, his fingers were constantly replacing it with their incessant circling. Some of your exhales come out as shaky, soft moans as you squirm in his lap.
"So good, one more time now, sweetheart. In."
Those fingers dive lower again, pressing into your slick folds. The deep inhale now tinged with a loud gasp as they push in to the knuckle. The flesh of his palm cups your cunt, rubbing the meat of it against your clit. Holding them there, Fred feels your wet walls twitch around him and nearly cums on the spot. Holding what semblance of power he has, he continues to guide you.
"And out."
Slipping his digits out of you, you exhale with a needy whimper. Even now you could hear the small cracks in Fred's voice as he watches you come undone in his arms. The already embarrassingly wet squelch his fingers make as they retreat out of you makes you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed with everything he had put your through.
"That's it, just relax sweetheart. Let me take good care of you."
Those husky whispers send shivers down your spine, the sensation mingling with the electricity his fingers were sending through you. If he kept up like this, you'd never last long enough to have his cock in you. Then again you had a feeling given how long he'd been waiting, you were absolutely going to have more than one orgasm tonight.
Pausing his thrusting, he instead lodges his fingers deep inside you. Curling them slowly he massages your walls as the heel of his palm envelopes and slides over your clit. Your hips still, thighs shuddering and twitching with effort as you teeter on the edge. Your body taught like a bow against his, head thrown back onto his shoulder allowing him to gaze over your torso. Drool slid over his tongue onto your skin as he panted, open mouthed and mindless, watching you spasm against his hand alone.
"Good...so good for me. My sweet doll. I want you to cum for me, can you do that?"
As if on command you came undone, your body curling forward as your orgasm rolled over you and rippled through your muscles. Wracking sobs tore from your throat as you came, legs going limp and limbs shaking as all the tension that had built up was let go all at once. Fred continued his slow rolling touch, working you through your orgasm until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. Even then, he took his time pulling his fingers out of you, gently easing them out only to let them gingerly slide over your clit. The attention made you shake, still oversensitive as your vision slowly began to focus again. Despite your groans and weak protests, you could feel arousal building in you again through the soft and slick roll over your hypersensitive nub.
"That's it, you did so well for me. But don't give up yet. We still have so much time to play."
