Hii! I'm yanglerfish but you can call me angel or angie, (anything really). I'm a neurodivergent creepypasta/horror fanfic writer! Here on my blog you'll find smaus, headcanons, and fanfics about your favorite serial killers!
More about me:
I'm 20 and living in NOLA, I go by any pronouns but mainly use she/they! I have a job and go to school so i have alot on my hands, but thats not going to stop me from posting! My favorite color is (you guessed it) red, and my favorite creep is Jeffery woods! (Jeff the killer)
Rules:
Nothing political: I'm not doing none-o-that.
Nothing homoph0bic, transph0bic, ext.
I have a HORRIBLE uploading sced, so please dont spam me!! I'll reply when i can 😭
Absolutely nothing like !nsest or n0n-c0n. I'm not comfortable writing any of the such, AT ALL.
What i WILL write:
LGBTQ+ Relationships.
Multi + reader (as long as it aint weird)
What i DON'T write:
Slenderman (I'M SORRY SLENDER GIRLIES, ILU I'M JUST BAD AT WRITING HIM 💔 I am planning on writing slenderman content in the future, you'll just have to wait and see lovelies!)
Coming soon:
Creepypasta - Masterlist, smaus, hc's, prn links.
Random thoughts! - #★ yanglerz yaps! Z z ᶻ
♡ Creepypasta oc refference sheet ♡
Deviders by: @pixopix, @enchanthings, me and pinterest.
Usually in bed, the most you get is heavy breathing and grunts if he’s dominant. Degrading with a sprinkle of praise, maybe a dragged out groan if it’s good.
But if you’re riding him with his wrists tied above his head, he gets whiny real fast. Especially if you’re edging him. He gets impatient, the denial getting to him about an hour in. His willpower isn’t weak exactly, it’s just that being inside you and knowing you can give him what he wants at any second makes him snappy.
After a certain point he loses his rasp a bit, too.
The base of it slowly becomes shaky, his once rough baritone cracking. His brows knot up when he glares at you, irritated. “You’re such a cunt.” He’ll snarl, bark orders- but you know he doesn’t mean it.
Because slowly but surely, his resistance will chip. His insults will begin to dampen, going from cussing you out to trying to bargain for you to move. He’ll start squirming, bucking his hips up with an unsteady huff.
“C’mon- just fucking move-“ Face flushed, his cocky persona crumbling by the second. He’s so hard it hurts, and you’ve been edging him for hours. Humping his cock just right, and squeezing him the way you know he likes best.
He’ll go from laughing at you to pouting and denying it. You can see it so clearly on his face. The internal fight in his head.
He hates begging, so he’ll try convincing you every time. He’ll offer you head, tell you that if you let him cum, he’ll make it worth your while. Jeff will debate his own skills in bed with his eyes half-lidded, chest heaving and his muscles tensing against the restraints.
Then his pitch raises, his words tilt up at the end. He gets breathier, quieter and more needy. More restless and you’ll feel his thighs twitch under you.
His head tips further back, eyes struggling to stay open. Huffing faster and faster until it sounds like he’s on the brink of hysteria. And when you finally lift your hips to sink down on him to the hilt, his pupils roll up into his skull.
Jeff’s jaw falls slack, lips bitten red and parted as he pants. He says the things he usually does, but this time, they don’t seem as nearly as demanding. His voice comes out too soft, too unstable to carry the weight it normally holds.
“Y-Yeah, like that- fuck.” More of a hitched sigh than an instruction. His gaze is unfocused, spine arching off the mattress by an inch before he slumps back down. Like he so desperately wants to appear unbothered.
“Take it so good- keep going. Ah- shit.” It’s barely praise, talking just to talk. He’s rambling because if he doesn’t, the noises forcing up his throat will be too obvious. Because if he does, his desperation won’t make you hungry.
“Gonna’ cum. Mm- g-gonna’- hah- I’m-fuckfuck—“ It’s a plea and a warning in one. There’s a part of him that’s hooked on the withheld release, high off the power you have over him. He wants to fill you so badly it’s painful, yet there’s a whisper at the back of his head that begs you to hold off just a little longer.
When you’ve passed the fifth round of edging him, his speech grows incoherent. He turns almost silent, the only sounds escaping him clipped and slurred. Then, during the peak of it, mercy finally appetizing to you. The slam of your cunt not ceasing even though it’s clear his ability to stave off his climax is near its end— he’ll moan so loud his cadence becomes unrecognizable.
Throaty and wanton, his eyes cross before scrunching shut. “Shit- b-baby.” He’ll bite his lower lip just to gasp as his shoulders bow, head thrown back while he trembles. His pale skin has tinted with blush all over, his shoulders and chest dusted in pink.
Drool collects at the slits of his cheeks, mouth forming an ‘O when you grind down onto him. You fuck him through the orgasm, making it last until he’s writhing. He’ll hum into the kiss, but his tongue is halfway limp.
He’s too overwhelmed to properly reciprocate, and his lips aren’t closed enough to lock on yours. It’s sloppy, spit smearing everywhere. He’ll watch you through bleary eyes and try to chase you back up.
In those moments, he forgets to ignore how much he needs you. Forgets to suppress how terribly he wants you close. Jeff will whine openly if you pull away too soon, pout without trying to hide his face if you get “mean.”
He’ll rub his cheek against your palm when you cup his face, slurring something along the lines of “Why’d y’stop?” With the most doe-eyed expression you’ve ever witnessed. Sub space for him is rare, but when it settles in, it always shocks you.
He acts so uncharacteristically vulnerable, asking for your touch with such raw hope it makes your heart hurt. It’s a slip of his mask, and you get to see less of Jeff, the unfeeling, barbaric weapon- and more of the boy before the fire.
Someone exposed and in need of grounding. Wanting to be handled with warmth and care. His stamina remains high though, so you finish him off slowly.
No harsh riding or bouncing yourself to make him scream- instead, you roll your hips gently. Rocking yourself on his cock with your nose brushing his. Your palms cradle his cheeks, and you tell him all the sappy things he claims to hate.
You tell him he makes you feel good. You whisper that you love him against his lips, letting your breath mingle with his when he nods in response. You soothe your thumbs along the scars on his skin, and he angles his head to attempt to kiss you, even if he barely has the energy for it.
When he cums, it’s muted. A stuttered exhale, his voice cracking a tad. His lids flutter closed, and he’ll lean into you, mumbling inaudibly. He bucks up into you once, twice, before he goes boneless.
His eyes follow you while you slip off of him, pupils blown wide as you peck his forehead, settling onto your side to undo the rope. His arms slink down, Jeff immediately reaching for you.
You can’t even get up to grab a rag because he’s burying himself into your chest. He’ll lie there silent for at least twenty minutes before he regains self awareness, simply listening to your heart beat and humming once in a while if you talk.
He’ll scoot back a smidge after, still slightly dazed, and raise a brow at you like you were the one who did something unexpected.
“What?” As if you didn’t just feel him curl into you and sniffle. Yet you know him, and you’re aware that if you call him out, he’ll scoff.
You swipe the hair sticking to his forehead out of the way, toying with the ends, while he stares. It’s a special intimacy that arrives once in a blue moon, and on those nights, Jeff tells you things he promised to never say out loud.
Sometimes it’s memories of his mom, sometimes it’s a stupid fight he had with brother. Sometimes it’s random things he noticed about you.
Facts that you don’t remember talking about, habits you didn’t know you had. It makes you realize how perceptive he is, how much he actually pays attention to details that most people deemed unimportant.
He’ll draw shapes on your bare hip, and mutter dumb jokes into your hair. A lightness that doesn’t exist elsewhere, the walls he built absent.
Jeff doesn’t verbally say it back, but he’ll trace a heart onto your back when you tell him you love him without heat between you. His mouth won’t form the syllables, but he’ll kiss your crown longer than necessary, and exhale like he’s trying to breathe his intentions into you.
With fondness, allowing his sentiment to seep into your mind as you fall asleep. He loves you, too.
you weren’t sure when your hips had started shifting on their own.
brian wasn’t doing anything to prompt it, either. you sat comfortably on his thigh, the sleep shorts you wore bunched up slightly. you were simply basking in his presence—fresh out of the shower, sore from work—when his hand gently traced the hem of the shorts.
you shifted slightly upon his ticklish, barely there touch, and froze. brian’s lips quirked up, but he said nothing. his eyes remained on the screen, tuned to a channel that was playing the texas chainsaw massacre. you pressed your cheek to his shoulder, doing your best to ignore his featherlight caressing.
you did well for a while—at least you thought you did.
“angel,” his voice was warm, a little strained at the edges, “drivin’ me crazy over here.”
you looked up curiously, and only then did you notice the burning in your thighs. you glanced down, face heating at the sight:
a dark spot, barely visible against his pajama pants.
“i’m sorry,” you covered your face in embarrassment, moving to stand up and run away. brian caught you with ease, redirecting you back onto him. except this time, he lowered you directly onto his lap.
you felt him pressing against you, hard and wanting.
“have i been neglectin’ you, sweet thing?” he cooed, hands dragging over your thighs and landing on your hips, “bless your heart…you’re shakin’ all over…”
your breathing quickened as his fingertips barely brushed against the soaked gusset of your underwear, your sleep shorts rendered useless and pulled to the side. “take these off, hm? it’ll feel better,” he coaxed you up, just enough to help you undress your lower half.
you whimpered when your bare pussy reconnected with him. he’d shoved down his boxers and pants, allowing you to grind fully against him. you felt him slide his cock between your legs, nestling it comfortably against your soaked heat.
“i know, angel, i know,” he whispered upon your quiet sounds, “need me to fix it for you?”
you nodded swiftly, and fell into his body when he began to move you. your folds dragged along the length of him, and brian smiled upon feeling your hands dig into his skin.
“poor thing ain’t wanna tell me she was feelin’ needy,” he mused, slowing his rhythm to allow you to pace yourself. you whined when he ceased, and he grinned something wicked, “aww, can’t do it? come on, baby, try.”
brian relaxed into the sofa when you slowly dragged your body along him, bringing you in for a kiss that was all tongue and breathing. when you separated, he slid his thumb between your lips, pushing around your mixed saliva. he messily smeared it down your throat, eyes swirling with desire and utter fondness.
“atta girl,” he breathed when your pace quickened. your whines and tremors were increasing, and he knew you were close.
“am i doing good?” you asked, eyes teary and lips swollen.
brian’s never been so in love.
“the best, angel.”
you slowed suddenly, and he tilted his head curiously when you shoved him fully against the sofa. he sunk into the cushions, groaning when you lowered yourself onto him.
“don’t wanna cum yet,” you murmured shyly, “want you a little more.”
“take all you want, pretty baby,” he encouraged, hands greedily squeezing the fat of your thighs, “i’ll lay here all night.”
you smiled nervously, the twinkle of shyness and excitement making his heart flutter.
“go on.”
and when you resumed your rhythm, your lips parted as he hit deeper and deeper, brian could only smile, groan, and take it.
First off we have Jeff. Now he loves it so fucking much. Imagine he's had a hard day and is just snapping at everyone. Not you. Never you. Or at least never intentionally. He finds you sitting on your shared bed flipping through a book. He slowly unhooks his belt before falling face first into your stomach, large arms wrapping around your waist. Your hand instinctively goes to his head. "Hard day?" You say softly and he'll bring a calloused finger to your lips. "Shh dollface. Just lemme..."
Absently, your hand goes down his back scratching light soft motions over his shirt. The tensions releasing almost immediately, he actually nuzzles his face into your stomach like your his savior. "Shit feels good baby." He'll mumble completely relaxed.
Next up Toby. Now he immensely enjoys the pressure. The deep strokes of your nails, the rhythmic tracing across his shoulder blades, spine. He'll whine softly especially when you nick a sensitive spot. "D-don't stop. Please don't stop." He begs, voice breaking like the crack of a tombstone, awakening a sensation or memory he long thought dead.
He'll arch up his back slightly, his body craving the gentle touches. Since Toby was mostly used to abusive touches, he feels so genuinely loved or cared for when you touch him like he matters.
Sex with Toby borders overstimulation everytime, he's got so much stamina and it's not like he can feel when his joints burn and ache, he's fucking you till he's shooting blanks.
Watching across the couch from each other while he’s pumping himself roughly and staring at the way your fingers disappear inside.
You can’t fuck because it was a spur of the moment thing but he gets desperate, ending up hovered over you, jacking off onto your stomach. However, his will power isn’t strong enough to stop there, and he promises he won’t go all the way. Panting out “I’ll j-just- it’ll be fine if I don’t go too deep- I’ll pull out.”
He slips in about half way, thrusting shallowly, when his head rests slumps onto your shoulder. The whole “just the tip” idea doesn’t last long, and before you know it, he’s dropping his hips down. Pelvis flush, he’s slurring apology after apology into your throat, yet his cock is remains buried.
You’re clinging onto his shoulders, and he’s rocking into you so hard the couch creaks. Pre cum mixing with your slick as he fucks you further into the cushions. His pants aren’t even off, belt dangling just below his ass, your underwear tugged to the side. His teeth latch onto your skin when he lets out a throaty moan- but he does stay true to his previous oath.
He hurriedly parts from you, his weight carried by the arm he was braced by your head while he tugs at his length. Toby’s grinding his cock head harshly onto your clit, making your eyes roll when he spills hotly onto your cunt.
Unfortunately his libido is inhumanly high, and he’s sliding back in balls deep with a groan, defeating the purpose of pulling out to begin with-
