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beanlot · 1 year

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MISTRESS

sevika x maid!reader

at first, you were her maid. but master liked you just enough to make you her mistress.

word count: 4.0k

genre: smut

warnings: amab!sevika, age gap, sevika cheats on her wife, slight spanking, spit, vibrator use, master/servant relationship, breeding kink

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“what a gorgeous colour.” her fingers ironing the corners of her lips, mahogany lipstick cleansing from the cedar skin in superlative fashion. she was objectively sumptuous, a classy woman surrounded by old money and platinum basin sinks; an easy life enough that she didn’t even have to raise a finger to apply honeydew exfoliation masks to her glistening skin. “don’t you think?” she stares at you through the mirror, umber eyes fanned by silky lashes - lids glossed with everlasting lustre of golden butterscotch, tempted to believe you could see your reflection if stood close enough.

“yes, madam.” you nod, fingers clasped onto a hanger, vintage dress glittered with merlot gemstones fluorescent against the sapphire tiles of the floor. you weren’t lying, it was a gorgeous colour. and madam wasn’t particularly sinister against you, or even sinister at all..

“you filthy pig.”

“don’t you dare touch my antiques.”

“look at you, fix this messy hair. i will not have guests over whilst you look like a disgusting hooker.”

mostly.

“vika loves this colour.” she sighs, french-tipped nails tapping against the argyle jewellery around her neck. her scent of prevailing pumpkin spice suffocating you momentarily when she turns around, taking the hanger from your grip; you’ll watch as she lays the dress against her body, feminine curves of her hips accentuated through the garnet jewels as she subtly twirls around. she hum, lashes batting through the scrutiny before she shoves the hanger into your chest hurriedly. “be a dear for me and tighten the waist.”

and sure, you don’t expect the best of treatment regardless. you were on the back burner, disposable in every aspect with your dull shirt collar; onyx skirt tucking in your buttons and the driest of hands from the constant polishing. “yes ma-“ a shrill bark interrupts you, and it’s when you turn around that you see a woolly poodle, pastel frilly dress, wiggling through the door.

“ugh, pinkiebear! what are you doing, my baby snuffles?” and just like that, as madam scoops the pup into her arms, you’re left alone in the bathroom. moroccan rose handwash beside her gold-plaited cosmetics, pomegranate face serums and emerald earrings; you’d wondered what the oils would feel like on your fingertips, the creaminess against your skin soaking with pulchritude. it feels like bait when you see that one tub is already open, pale watermelon serum calling your fucking name - she won’t notice, there’s no way.

so you tenderly swab at the surface, the velvety touch on your skin.. it already makes you feel pretty, glammed up, like her. and the dysphoria only amplifies ironically when you massage the pearly ointment into your cheek, the winsome highlight when you turn your head not going unnoticed.

wine glass and plate in hand as you approach sevika’s master’s study, nudging the door with your shoulder. it was smoked salmon and caviar, and if you weren’t so fond of her, it would be rational to believe she was intentionally inflicting the purgatory of starvation onto you. but she was not resentful, her muffled tone of come in prompting you to amble inside; the air murky from her cigar smoke, illuminated by dim apricot from the scattered lamps. and she’s there, with every inhale, you can decipher the ocherous flame between her lips - her fingers clearing her desk when she sees the wine bottle tucked under your arm.

“thank you, darling.” she murmurs within the fever dream, fumes seeping through her lips to which she fans out when you’re beside her desk. it’s elixir to taste, and although it’s toxin on your tongue, it’s contradicting - plate and wine glass settled against the oak, careful to avoid her disarray of books and orderly inklings when you pour the currant. she examines this, raising an eyebrow before tapping the tobacco against an ashtray. “are you hungry?”

fuck, you have no idea.

“no, master.” you shake your head, because even though you could feel your organs internally booing inside from the withering, you were under an obligation of being polite. and hell, it was reasonable for her to concern herself with your wellbeing per se: she was older, much older; yet you merely took it as manners, sympathy that you weren’t born into such opulence. so when you finish pouring, tenderly placing the bottle beside master’s glass - it’s paralysis when her coercive words refrain you from leaving the room as you intended. “come here.” she instructs, virescent globes eclipsed with hues of oxblood when you maintain eye contact from your awkward distance. she’s manspreading, white button-up loose against her chest, and the uncertainty only amplifies when master’s tone becomes demanding. “come.. here.”

so you shuffle towards her, and you’re not sure if it’s the nicotine or the peril brunt of her influential stare, but your blood pressure raises when you stop - that maybe you’d said something wrong, gotten a wine she didn’t like, or you were vicariously responsible for the chef’s error. but the neurotic thoughts plummet when you see her slice an intricate cube of the salmon, fork held out to you with sincerity.

“try it, it’s good for you.” she advises, and you’re under automatism to obey - her fingers scraping against yours when you take the fork, examining the glassy block. you’re not sure what it’s seasoned with, only able to distinguish the honey glaze and sprinkle of pepper; you couldn’t even fucking describe what salmon tasted like, a luxury that your flimsy uniform never got to see up close. and you feel emotional when it finds itself between your teeth, erupting with foreign rich oils and glacé syrup.

you want to appreciate it, had you not interpreted the investigative glances she’s giving you. skeptical eyebrows dipping in, defining the droopiness of her lids and the eclipse of gunmetal in her narrowed pupils - they search your face, because there’s something about you that master just can’t pinpoint. “you’re glowing.” she mumbles, fingers branching out toward you and framing your jaw ever so tenderly; thumb stroking along the curves of your cheekbone, the familiar and velvety texture of your skin no stranger to master. “you’ve been using my wife’s stuff, haven’t you?”

great.

of course, how could you have been so recklessly fucking dense? you’d just swabbed a few thousands onto your face and expected that nobody would’ve been able to put two and two together, and now you’re stood here like a fucking embarrassment whilst her conquering globes assess you. master was going to obliterate you for even contemplating putting your filthy wilted fingers on her wife’s belongings, and you’re just waiting for her to call the chef over to slice you into little pepperonis and use your torso as a fucking piñata for her fancydancy din-

“looks good on you.” she mumbles, and the harmonising words nosedive into your stomach with more adamantine force than waiting for her to beat you to a pulp. her fingers streamlining down your jaw before she picks up her plate, ludic smirk concealing the mulberry on her lips as she offers her plate towards you. “don’t tell.”

you look back and forth, and it’s only when she nudges the porcelain into your stomach that you realise what she meant. she was only really interested in the wine, and within her hospitality, gave you something to eat for the night.

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“your muscles are all contracting, just relax.”

“i’m trying..”

“you should really look into tai-chi, saves me hours of making these for you.

i’ll be back tomorrow,

ice or magnesium for any muscle pain,

is that a chip in the wall?

anyway, i’ll see you tomorrow, my lovely~.”

you’d been waiting outside her room for about forty minutes, folded blouse and dress shirts in hand; although you liked to consider yourself respectful of master’s private conversations, not even the bricky walls and thick interior of the hallways could muffle the massage therapist’s jarringly piercing voice - one that only amplifies when master’s door opens, a tiny woman pootling herself down the hall with a bowl of water, peppermint leaves floating within the misty pool.

it’s rosemary and eucalyptus when you inhale, frissons of sweltering air blossoming your way as the door closes over only slightly. but you’re prudent, you’re conditioned to be, waiting outside her door for her to have her few minutes of privacy - but she calls you in when she identifies your shadow against her marble tiles, eyes absentmindedly tracing the silhouette of your hips.

and when you walk in, nudging the door ever so slightly, she’s face-down on the master bed; surrounded by canary silk pillows and lime basil candles, her wine cellar visible from where you stand. you approach the palladium drawers, and whilst your job was plainsailing, the difficulty of having to avert your eyes from her bare back did it’s due diligence to make it just a little harder for you. but you stay silent nonetheless, the palatable glimmering against her burly shoulders, one that made you envy a massage therapist’s expertise as you organise her shirts.

“you have pain, master?” you mumble, clearing your throat when it starts to disintegrate at the mercy of her tensing shoulders, glorious muscle twitching. “my shoulders, darling. it’s not so bad.” she doesn’t move, and although you seem satisfied with the composed silence, the thought of leaving in it made your stomach sour.

“is there anything i can do?” you offer, graphite eyes piercing into your body when she turns her head against the pillow - you can tell she’s engrossed in those retrospective thoughts of hers by the way she’s zoning out, clouding globes that flutter over you before she pats the mattress.

“lay with me..” she mutters, black pepper fragrant when she inches away, leaving you a temptingly delectable space beside her. it feels wrong, and your ears can already feel the wrath of madam’s scream when she finds out you dared even the slightest courage to lay in her bed, beside her wife.

but master was at the top of the food chain.

so you reluctantly obey, not oblivious to the raw sensation of eagerness when her bare abdomen raises slightly from the mattress - she’s toned, noir curves that only excite the vim when you’re slithering into the space she’d left you. but it’s not enough to dilute your inhibitions, your body rigid when her fingers flutter against your waist; she notices this, intoxication when her whisper caresses against your ear. “relax, relax.” she whispers, the suggestive timbre diminishing you - she waits until you slump into the satin, plumose textures under your fingertips, before her arm cases over your waist and trails you against her bare chest. it’s morally profane, warmth from her breasts contagious on your spine, skin sweltering idyllically - kittenish and lewd and wow you’re getting horny.

it’s silent for a few minutes. but you feel dirty, her vanilla comfort something you ruined.

“you remind me of my wife when we first met.” the vanilla wisps against your jaw curdling into vulgarity when her fingers tenderly clutch at the hem of your skirt, and although one part of you feels like nothing more than a doll for her to use the one night her wife is out attending a dinner, another is relieved when the wintry air strikes your thighs.

“young,” her fingers lifting the skirt enough that her perverted eyes can search your hips, the way they embrace the black straps of your underwear.

“pretty,” her nails glissading against your inner thighs, forefinger sinking between them enough that they’re under automatism to separate. you try to convince yourself that it’s because you don’t want to get into trouble, disappoint that streak of high expectations you managed to leap over the past few weeks - but by the vim in your clit, it was disgustingly undeniable it was because fantasy was becoming reality.

“fertile.” she delicately taps your clothed clit, subtle sensitivity that already gets your hips rolling into her crude touch. her engagement ring flaring in your peripheral when her left hand slinks around your body, black opal glinting as her palm rests against your breasts. “look at me.” her lips tickling against your cheek as you turn to her, hues of predatory oxblood glossing over her lead pupils. she likes that she owns you, conditioned you to be her little pet, dominated your identity to nothing more than her servant.

so the overly obscene taste on her lips when she’d pressed her forehead against yours, skin searing with wealthy indecency was no shock. she was impulsive, lips against yours, unseemly sounds of anticipated smooches as you drink up the taste of peppermint. she wants to be delicate for you, but the instinct outlasting the grace when she hears you hum. you’re heedless of your sloppy grinding, shaky exhales which only worsen when she pulls away; her thumb draping your bottom lip down only slightly. jewels of her spit streamlining into your mouth, your tongue absorbing the droplets filthily. “pretty girl.” she swallows, eyes darting along your jaw, her spit slowly drizzling down your neck.

you want to tell her that this is wrong, that she’s a married woman, but the night already feels drilled into stone when her fingers manipulate the buttons on your chest, cleavage satisfying her sadistic eyes with every one coming undone. your shirt loosens, sinking down your back and accentuating the feminine enticement master was under whilst her fingers revel in the linen cotton of your bra, the straps cunningly draping off your shoulders. “these would look gorgeous in some silk.” she whispers, your breasts tingling when there’s nothing there to cover them anymore, her fingers folding your bra down to your stomach.

“would you like that.. me to buy you some pretty outfits?” she mumbles, admiring the way your nipples harden under her fingertips, delicately pinching the responsive buds. you nod, because you expect her to want you to, flinching when you roll your hips against her sturdy thigh; thick imprint of her veiny cock paralysing you momentarily.

“do me a favour.. lean over in that drawer.” she gestures to the bedside cabinet, and you’re sceptical when you lean over, your skirt hitching up ever so slightly. and if the humiliation of having your ass presented to her like a fucking showpiece wasn’t degrading enough, the barbaric strike of her palm against it was. you squeak, flinching necessarily - her palm easing the inflamed area intricately, before walloping back down onto your skin. you want to fucking weep, blinking through the blur of your tormented tears, opening the drawer to which a plaited vibrator lays.

“that’s the one.” she confirms, taking it from your fingers as you lay back into the mattress, ass ignited with scorching goosebumps from the brutish force behind her arms. you go to defend yourself, because honestly, you feel lower than the bottom of the food chain - you were no blossoming mighty oak, but rather a withering sunflower under her assertion.. but she knows what you’re about to say. “master, i haven’t do-“

“you’ll be fine, we haven’t used it yet. it’ll make you feel good.” she sits up, and although she intends to comfort you, it only intimidates you further when her tongue wets her lips; fingers slewing the fabric of your underwear to the side and leaving your slit prey to her predacious stare, only amplifying when she unveils how truly drenched your folds are. but she doesn’t say anything, only leaning over whilst a bullet of her spit seeps between her lips and missiles itself against your clit.

you already feel numb, the heavenly pressure of seventh heaven when you hear the whirring of her vibrator, your thighs quivering with the company of your stimulated whines when the tip purrs against your clitoral hood. “that’s it, atta girl.” she praises, her breasts pressing themselves against your bare spine when she situated herself beside you again. it’s nirvana, humping against the vibrator so primitively, erogenous arcady to hear your incessant whimpers echo throughout the room. you’re sweating by now, at peace with the fire and brimstone breeding on your skin - but you want more, your fingers grazing over the stiff imprint of her desperate cock.

her breath is jagged, submerging the vibrator harder onto your clit, your ankles starting to twitch at the susceptibility. you’re not sure if it’s enough to make you come just yet, but that thought deteriorates when her finger glissades down your slit and streams itself inside of your hole. “fuck.. you’ve made my cock all hard.” she sighs against your cheek, your walls greeting her indiscriminately; spasming with every hum against your clit. she’s testing the waters, fingertips taking a liking to the spongy textures when she tenderly twines it upwards, the pornographic desire in your clit to orgasm more reckless than ever. but you’re not the only one suffering, because sevika is finding that her cock is actually starting to fucking hurt from the distress of not being able to just have her way with you again and again and again.

but she’s patient, finger gliding itself in and out of you; assaulting that carnal pit in your walls as your thighs tremble as she fucks you with them. instinctive sobs leaving your throat unmonitored, and honestly, you wouldn’t be able to describe it even if given a fucking thesaurus - sneezelike corkscrew ballooning itself inside your hips when she hooks another finger inside, arousing squelching with every hammer against your folds. “please..” you whisper, unbeknownst to the soreness in your fingers as they lock, clenching tightly on her belt.

and when she’s satisfied with how vulnerable you are under her, the sensitivity just right, she’ll admire the quavering of your hips and the tightening of your thighs before dragging the vibrator away from your clit. “huh?” you squeak, cunt clenching around her fingers at the sudden loss of her manipulation. you’re about to complain, wail about how much of a fucking tease she is, but she relieves the anguish by leaning over your thighs; her tongue replacing the device and doing its dirty work when it swipes over your hood, delving between your folds and schemingly flicking over your erect bud.

just like that, you’re shaking again, thigh hoisting itself up and planting itself on her bare, burly shoulder. your mewls of master twirling repeatedly in a rabbit hole of ecstasy when her damp lips envelop your clit and suck with cruelty, fingers maintaining their agonising operation; battering into you with precision and artsy discipline, like she’s done this too many times before.

but it’s dispiriting for her, because she wants to be a lovemaker for you, wants to appreciate you for the fine young woman you are - yet the throbbing in her cock conquers that yearning, and it’s then that she pulls away with such self-hatred. “are you gonna let me put my cock inside your cunt, darling?” she exhales, fingers slewing out of your brimming hole, selfishly drizzling your discharge over the mattress and coating over the sable leather of her belt when she goes to unbuckle it.

“yes. yes, master.” you comply, ultramarine daze when you blink; pixels of orchid blooming in your vision when you even did as much as look down to her belt. fingers tackling the every latch, submerging as they frame her veiny shaft - cock springing out and admittedly, inciting nothing more than disruptive thoughts of am i going to fucking live to see tomorrow after this.

she’s thick, and monumental.. fucking handcrafted by gods with such clarity. enough that all of that internal envy becomes more.. not envy, because you know this is gonna really fucking hurt, and you’re not liking how much she exceeds your expectations at the expense of what’s gonna happen to your poor fucking vagina. “you still want it?” she murmurs when she notices the hues of uncertainty in your eyes, superficial doubt that she interprets easily - it’s an ego boost, artificial concern to conceal her everlasting inclination to ruin you. but you blink at her, flickering between her eyes and the slightly palatable mulberry tip of her cock, before you nod.

it would be cruel for her to nosedive straight into you, and even she knows this, her tip glissading through your folds and lubricated with your slick. she’s slightly sensitive, the warmth of your cunt only amplifying the immense throbbing, but she’s consistent this time - your clit rubbing against her head only instantaneously as she accustoms herself with your textures.

“this might hurt, just a little.” she whispers against your jaw, fingers grappling at your hips as her own angles forward, tip insidious as it skims into your walls; your body merely a betrayal of your conscience when your walls welcome her. but it’s smooth, as she pushes herself in with such fucking entitlement, your insipid moisture coating her cock.

because she owned you, every little fragment.

her mindless breaths against your bare shoulder, the subtle rocks in her hips purely intuition. she hasn’t felt this in years, the vehemence of her girth wrapped around such a fine woman, and it motivates the urge for her to start thrusting your hips back into her. your whimpering sobs with every cudgel of her skin against yours, the indignity of her abdomen pounding against your spine and the raunchy heat of her cock assaulting your cunt.

influx of adrenaline when she hears you mewl, her sloppy kisses on your nape sultry and blistering. “i know, i know it feels good..” she sighs, both hands clenching at your thighs, your hips, your waist- anything to feel herself become adaptable inside of you, anything to get a taste of the rapture inside of herself.

“pretty.. pretty girl..” her muffled groan echoing in your ears as she gets herself off into you. she was dictating your self-worth, dictating your fucking life.. and although some of it felt as if it was just pulling the pieces together, another felt it all shatter into irreversible ruins as her left hand compressed itself onto your clit; engagement ring ever so slightly abrading itself against your wet folds.

and that’s when you feel it.

the sheer pinnacles of rhapsody so distinct as her fingers roll your clit in circular motions superlatively, cock swollen and erect. “please.. please..” you sigh, the jagged timbre exposing how receptive your bundles of nerves were; fingertips touching the very eminent icicles of orgasm when she speaks her foul language in your ears.

“i’m gonna come inside you, do you want that?”

“uh huh.”

“gonna make you the mother of my fucking kids..”

“mhm, yes, master..”

and then it erupts inside, whirlwind of frenzy that you could only compare to what felt like being edged for hours. your clit numb and jaded, the overstimulation aggravating as your walls pulse around her cock so tightly that she doesn’t even need to continue pummelling into you. conclusively, you were a mess - her palm sealing itself over your lips to repress the uncontrollable cry, tone it down ever so slightly, arms that confine your body as you tremble and do your upmost fucking best to recover.

and after a few minutes of her rocking a few inches back and forth into you, the dishevelled grunt and adhesion of her bangs against your cheek; quivering fingers against your lips and hips that airbrush themselves to divinity let you know that she’s just came.

and something feels off, seriously off. so full and saturated, and it’s when her cock slews itself out of you that you know there’s no way you’re the only one behind all the mess; looking between your legs and flinching at the pearly cream drizzling out of your hole, thick and balmy. your juices meshing together in such harmony that you feel disgust, and yet hypnosis. because she never wanted a maid,

she wanted a mistress.

#sevika x reader #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #arcane x reader #sevika smut

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applesaucesims · 6 months

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Fancy Dress for Children

A set of early twentieth century Halloween costumes for kids! The costume mesh is from Island Living and I tried including it, but please let me know if it doesn't work!

Costumes:

available for all children

bgc

11 swatches

disabled for random

mesh from island living

DOWNLOAD [sfs]

Hats:

available for all children

bgc

8 swatches

disabled for random

mesh by @mlyssimblr included

DOWNLOAD [sfs]

other swatches:

inspo and cc recs under the cut

Additional cc used in previews:

clown face paint by @colorboxsims

pumpkin face paint by @itsonlythee-sims

cat mask by @vintage-simmer

wings + antennae by @pyxiidis

#ts4 #simblreen #simblreen 2023 #ts4 cc #ts4cc #sims 4 #my cc

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dc418writes · 6 months

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•|Legends Never Die|•

✨Pairing✨: dark!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Curiosity doesn’t kill cats. It kills the nosey

⚠️: 18+ NO MINORS, chasing, mention of blood, abduction, minor bondage, allusions to basement wife, language, noncon touching

A/N🎤: Hey guys! So this is my little twist on the infamous Headless Horseman tale and I hope you guys like it☺️💕!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Everyone you interviewed in the small town warned you about going down that dirt road. How those who dared pass through that wooden tunnel were never to be seen again.

But you didn’t listen. Instead letting your need for the truth overshadow your caution.

Once you heard about the mysterious figure looming in the woods and read all the accounts from those young and old, your piqued interest wouldn’t rest. You needed to see for yourself if this horseman really existed or if it was just a boogeyman of sorts with stories being passed down from generation to generation.

Dead grass and autumn leaves crunch under your sneakers as you journey further into the wooded area. The cool air prickling your nose and cheeks while buzzards squawk overhead circling with their wings spread wide.

That should’ve been your sign to turn back, but your legs carry you until you’re meeting a withered cabin. Smoke rising from its chimney into the gloomy sky.

“H-Hello!?,” you call out, but there’s nothing. Whoever lived here clearly wanted to be alone being the only cabin out in this stretch of woods that you could see.

“I don’t mean any harm! Just wanted to ask some questions,” you ask as you reach the front door.

You knock twice, but again you don’t hear anything. Can just see a peek of the lone, vintage couch and coffee table resting on top of the decorative rug in the living room through the crack in the curtains shielding the windows.

The floorboards creak under each step you take - no matter how careful - wandering along the wrap around porch while your eyes focus on the woods with every crack of a twig and swish of leaves.

Meaning you weren’t paying attention when you tripped over the metal bucket; knocking it over as you stumbled forward.

A reddish-brown tinted rag rolling out along with a small amount of water tinted the same color pooling around your feet is the final straw feeling your stomach begin to sink and anxiety slowly rise.

Something deep inside tells you to hide when you hear the whinny of a horse along with its trotting hooves approaching from somewhere in the forest. It’s the fastest you’ve moved since your high school gym days setting your eyes on a decent sized shed a few feet away.

Luckily it’s latch is open allowing you to quickly slip inside just as whoever approaches the property. Crouched by the small, smudged window, you can see the black stallion being led by a person in all black themselves from their thick coat to their leather gloves and down to the boots on their feet.

A pumpkin mask with detailed carving covering their face.

It looks like it was made from the gourd itself. But most surprising - and fear inducing - a hatchet on their hip. Its blade stained with someone or something’s crimson blood that steadily drips to the ground.

“What’d I get myself into?,” you think watching as the tall figure rounds the house before stopping upon noticing the knocked over bucket and rag. Clearly now on alert that somebody was there how his head turns left and right.

Your heart rate increases as he appears to be coming towards the shed. (More than likely to put away his horse as you now notice the bags of feed by your feet.)

It’ll be impossible to run out the same way you came, so you hurry towards the back crouching behind a barrel near the corner. Your knees pressed into your chest to make yourself as small as possible just as the double doors open and both step inside.

Hands covering your mouth, you can hear them tying their horse away before filling its container with food and beginning to brush along its mane and the short hairs on its body.

A skid of a breeze across your face nearly startles you - thinking whoever arrived found you - until you see the plastic flap of the doggy door gently moving back and forth. It seems big enough that you could fit through, but you won’t know for sure unless you try.

So you patiently wait until you hear the double doors open again and the thud of boots becoming quieter with each step, signaling that you were finally alone and able to move again.

Carefully your arm goes through first then your head, but your opposite shoulder only bumps into the wall unable to pass. Shifting your body, you try again hoping someway you can make it through but your efforts are futile.

Just giving you enough of a distraction that you don’t feel the presence of someone behind you until it’s too late. Roughly grabbing your ankles and yanking you back as you scream.

You thrash kicking and swinging trying to get away, successfully hitting his crotch deep enough to have him groaning as he keels over on his hands and knees.

“Bitch,” he grits out as you scramble to get your footing to run out the shed. The horse whinnying and stirring about due to the new commotion.

Bursting out the doors, you keep running without any direction just setting your sights forward while trying to dodge limbs and trees along your path.

At the galloping not too far behind you, your heartbeat increases hoping there’s another house somewhere in these woods you can ask for help.

As your chest heaves and throat gradually becomes dryer from the air constantly rushing through, it seems you two are the only ones out this far leaving only one end in sight for you.

The stallion’s galloping grows closer and louder - as if it’d never get tired - while you feel exhaustion overtaking the adrenaline that once controlled your body.

You make the grave mistake of peeking over your shoulder trying to gauge just how close your hunter is not realizing your path was soon ending. Flying forward, your body tumbles down a dirt hill until you’re roughly thudding to a stop.

However, rather than hitting the cold ground you’re horrified to find a decaying body with its eyes wide and staring right at you. Some flies buzzing from them to you as if thinking you could be their next snack.

A deafening scream rips through your chest as you try to scurry away, echoing off the surrounding trees until something hitting against your head makes everything go dark.

Opening your eyes, you first notice the dark, wooden beams of the unfamiliar ceiling. Definitely older from their weathered appearance as one seemed to be a good hit away from breaking in two.

You try to move, but your arms and legs are bound to the semi-firm mattress below you with expertly knotted ropes you know you’d never get out of. It left you spread wide and fearful to what your captors next plan would be.

“You’ve done a lot of research.” The deep voice startles you, instinctively making you turn towards the corner to find the person chasing you earlier. They’re still in all black with the orange mask attached to their face as they look through your notebook of interviews and printed articles.

Had they been there watching you the whole time you were out?

“Have to say, I’m flattered,” they lowly chuckle closing the book and haphazardly tossing it on the ground. You see just how tall this person is when they stand and their head is only inches away from the beams above. It fills your stomach with nausea and dread how they slowly approach the bed reaching their finger out to teasingly trace from the post by your foot to your ankle.

“I-I’m sorry,” you cry with fresh tears dripping out the corner of your eye and down to the mattress below. A line of black left in its path from your mascara and liner.

Carefully removing their mask, the face underneath is surprisingly handsome. Near crystalline like blue eyes shielded by long lashes and a sharp jaw covered by an almond colored beard, you could honestly find yourself falling for the man in front of you if you met under normal circumstances.

His fingertips slowly trace higher - from your ankle to your calf and finally the inside of your knee - making your squirm and tears fall heavier while you plead, “Don’t.”

“Looks like you found your horseman kitten,” he smirks. “Too bad you’re little story won’t ever get published. Especially not with you tied up down here until I’m done.”

#curtis everett #curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett x black!reader #curtis everett au #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

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angiestown · 7 months

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more detailed descriptions of what I mean under the cut

pop culture horror: you know like hockey mask guy and pinhead and chucky and freddy krueger

non-movie horror: like gore and scary stuff, but it's not from anything specific. you wouldn't bring a 5 year old to this party

non-horror halloween movie: merch from movies that are more for all-ages. I think adams family and twilight zone would go here even though they're mostly tv shows

vintage horror: like Dracula and Frankenstein and all those movies

retro halloween: because of printing limitations, most of this stuff is just black and orange ink, sometimes maybe green or another colour as well. often has a hanna barbera look to it or a retro comic book look

kawaii: everything is very very cute and not scary even a little bit. very clean lines. think pusheen or hello kitty

cute & goofy: this is more what you'd find at michaels or walmart. kid friendly, but not sickeningly sweet. might scare a really young kid

witchy: you guys know what witchy is I think. if you don't you probably weren't going to choose it anyway

autumn focus: halloween is secondary to your pretty photos of orange leaves and wet sidewalks and cute seasonal treats

crafts: all those things you would've made as a kid. simple jack-o-lanterns and those leaf bags with pumpkin faces fall under here too I think

#halloween

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lavendercrow136 · 4 months

Text

Tell me this isn't goodbye love, part 5

When we eventually arrived at the pumpkin patch, Larissa parked the car. We made our way inside, and Larissa sat me at a picnic table while she went and bought our tickets, Wednesday and Enid sat with me admiring the fall foliage. Vermont as a whole was beautiful this time of year, but Burlington was a whole other level of colors for fall, it was a kaleidescape of color and the sun illuminated it all beautifully.

Wednesday snapped a picture of me with her old vintage camera,and I smiled startled by the flash. Larissa walked up behind me placing her hands on my pregnant belly and kissed my cheek, Wednesday snapped another picture. I laughed and Larissa kissed me, and I remember for a moment this being the happiest I had felt in a long time.

Larissa kissed my cheek again and passed Wednesday and Enid their tickets, and then me my own. I slipped it into my pocket, I looked at the tickets and smiled,

"Darling it says you bought the haunted hayride and house experience package followed by pumpkin picking"

Larissa smiled,

"It's your favorite holiday, your favorite time of year. The least I can do is allow you a bit of fun, I can run it by Dr. Cosgrove if you like love, but I hardly think anyone has been ever scared into having a child"

I smiled,

"Alright Darling only if Dr.Cosgrove says it's okay"

Larissa smiled and went and called Dr. Cosgrove quickly, she came back giving me a thumbs up, and we made our way to the que line for the haunted house.

Wednesday smirked at Enids nervousness and kissed her cheek,

"Baby it will be alright"

Enid blushed and moved a strand of hair out of her face. When it was our turn to go through the haunted house, Enid and Larissa went first both of them jumping and screaming, while Wednesday laughed.

Once we were out of the haunted house, we got some fried dough and hot chocolate from the food trucks and sat by the fire. Wednesday took pictures and we all talked and hate happily, Enid had all in hysterics,

"It wasn't so bad, Larissa you were so scared, that didn't scare me at all"

Wednesday teased Enid,

"Oh really sweet heart, is that what you were doing? Dancing for joy"

Enid playfully slapped Wednesday laughing and Larissa smirked. I leaned against my wife, and smiled she grabbed Wednesday's camera and snapped a picture of them.

"Weems, your chariot to he'll awaits"

A man in a skeletal masked announced, Larissa waved and we made our way over to the hayride. We climbed aboard and he drove us about twelve miles through dark forest with minimal props and a few scares. When the wagon came to a grinding halt,

"Alright get off"

Larissa looked at him shocked,

"I'm sorry, but this is not the end of the hayride and my wife is pregnant"

The man dragged me by the elbow,

"Don't care, not about to get all that blood on the wagon"

I panicked grappling with his arm,

"Please God no, no no no"

Larissa and Wednesday and Enid joined me outside of the wagon, and he sped off back the way we came. Suddenly we were completely alone in the dark, Wednesday and Enid and Larissa pulled out their phones for flashlights to help guide us.

We began to walk slowly through the woods on the path, when we heard it the all to familiar sound of heavy foot steps on crunching branches and leaves. Enids class instinctively came out and Wednesday grabbed me,

"We, we need to go right now"

Laurel Gates and Tyler Galpin stepped out of the forrest, Tyler in his Hyde form and Laurel in all black and a skull mask.

I grabbed Larissa’s hand, and Laurel sneered,

"Isn't this all so touching, the Scooby-Doo gang reunited again"

Tyler snickered his beastial forms teeth showing his lips curved in a snear, I whimpered my hands covering my stomach protectively.

"Do you see it baby? Scooby-Doo herself, Velma Dinkley the detective, Fred and a very pregnant Daphne"

Larissa shielded me with her body protectively,

Wednesday pulled a knife ready to fight, Enid already began to shift.

Larissa snapped practically snarling,

"What do you want from us?"

Laurel smiled sadistically,

"Oh that's so sweet so vicious protecting your little family, your school and all your little misfits. How cute, and so predictable of you Larissa. But that is the question isn't it What do I want? Tyler baby do you know what mommy wants"

She kissed his transformed face and he made a sound akin to a purr. Wednesday winced, Laurel smiled again and turned her attention back to Larissa, her voice radiating venom,

"What I want dear Larissa, is to cleanse the world of every freak and mutant like yourself, starting with your wife and you unborn children"

Tyler rushed us and Enid pounced on him clawing and fighting him, Laurel charged Wednesday and Larissa and she swung a blade at them wildly. Larissa looked at me frantically,

"RUN Y/N RUN"

I tried and Tyler cut me off after throwing Enid against a tree knocking her unconscious, he scooped me up and held me by my throat.

Wednesday dropped her knife and Larissa stilled seeing me be choked by the hide, Laurel caressed Larissa’s face with the blade.

"Tell me Larissa, do you know exactly how long the human brain can last before it shuts down and ceases function?"

I gasped struggling with the Hydes clawed hands, sputtering like a drowning victim for air. Larissa whimpered ,

"Please don't hurt her, tell him to stop Laurel please-"

Laurel made a quick gesture and the Hyde tightened its grip,

"Wrong answer Larissa, that's not how this game works,I'll repeat the question since I heard cognitive function slows when the mind is presented with stressful imagery. And surely"

She laughed,

"Seeing your pregnant wife suspended by her neck suffocating is stressful? I'll say it slower, how long can the human brain last without oxygen before it shuts down completely?please feel free to take all the time you need after all it's not your life on the line yet, feel free to phone a friend"

Larissa racked her brain and Wednesday spoke up,

"THREE MINUTES, ITS THREE MINUTES"

Laurel clapped slowly, mockingly, she leaned over at Wednesday very good. She made a flippant gesture and Tyler sat me down, and I gasped for air.

Larissa’s eyes met mine and she cried, and I felt the babies riggle in my stomach,

"We're okay baby, we're okay"

Laurel laughed,

"Such a touching display, larissa go to your wife"

Larissa crawled to me and kissed my face tears falling down her face she touched my belly feeling the twins and she relaxed. While her body shielded my own I speed dialed Galpin, he could hear everything and was tracking the signal.

"Why me Laurel? Why us?"

Larissa asked emotion strangling her voice,

"Oh my God you really are fucking dense, you were there that night my brother died, at that pathetic fucking Academy you never left, you all deserve to die"

Larissa shook her head. Wednesday stood screaming at Laurel,

"YOUR FATHER FORCED YOUR BROTHER TO BEING NIGHTSHADE POISON TO A DANCE TO KILL AN ENTIRE SCHOOL OF STUDENTS AND FACULTY BECAUSE THEY WEREN'T HUMAN, AND WAS KILLED BY MY PARENTS IN SELF DEFENSE"

Laurel back handed her with the blunt end of the knife, and Larissa rushed Laurel, Tyler swatted Larissa away from Laurel like a fly her head slamming against a rock rendering her unconscious.

I screamed, Laurel tilted Larissas head with the toe of her boot ,

"You just don't die do you?"

She kicked Larissa in the head and smiled, when her breathing had all but stopped.

"There much better"

I screamed in agony,

Wednesday stabbed Laurel in the chest hitting her heart and she collapsed aspirating on her own blood. Tyler shifted back to normal, he grabbed his own head pulling at his hair.

"Laurel no no no, honey wake up, p-please I need you"

Wednesday pulled Enid to her chest and she woke up, grabbing her head, Galpin arrived not long after Laurel had fallen dead. As soon as her arrived he trained the gun on Tyler, Tyler looked at him teary eyed.

Tyler moved not even an inch,

"Don't make me shoot you son"

Tyler made for it to run and Sheriff Galpin shot him in the head. I crawled over to Larissa and began CPR,

I slapped her chest ,

"Don't you die on me again, Don't you fucking die, WAKE UP! LARISSA WAKE UP"

The emts took over when I got there, they drove us all to the hospital they held me down while they checked the babies vitals and administered a sedative that wouldn't harm the babies and knocked me out.

When I came too, I asked for Larissa’s room at the head nurses station. I arrived at her room and Enid and Wednesday were sitting there reading to her,

"H-how long have I been out?"

Wednesday looked at me and spoke with a split lip,

"Eight hours, I called your Mother and she is on the way"

I nodded my head,

"What about Tyler and Laurel?"

Enid supplied the response this time,

"Dead"

I looked to Larissa and took her hand, I kissed her forehead a small cut stitched on her forehead from where her head collided with the rock.

Wednesday spoke up behind me,

"She is in a coma, the doctors don't know if she'll wake up"

I sobbed, and shook my head,

"No, no , no honey don't do this to me again...please wake up baby, wake up please. Please wake up"

I crawled beside her in the bed, careful not to put pressure on her. My mother arrived and she was crying, she kissed my cheek, and squeezed Larissa’s hand.

I stayed there for days, doing anything I could to wake Larissa up. I sang to her, read poetry and books to her, kissed her, she wasn't waking up. I held her hand leaning over the side of the bed,

"Baby please, please wake up. We need you, I'm so scared, our due dates tomorrow, please honey I need you"

I pressed her hand to my abdomen, when the doctors walked in and the twins kicked extremely hard.

I screamed in pain, what I thought had been a kick had been a contraction, my water broke. I hit the emergency button and the doctors rushed in.

"Okay y/n we need to take you to the delivery room"

I shook my head,

"NO NO I WON'T LEAVE HER, DO IT HERE I WON'T GO"

Dr. Cosgrove entered the room,

"Y/N, we can do it in here, I need you to calm down and do your lemaze breathing, do you remember the technique?"

I nodded my head, and she sent the nurses and other doctors to gather the supplies she scooted my bed closer to Larissa’s and helped me into a hospital gown.

She got me hooked up to Monitors and into the bed, I was capable of holding Larissa’s hand from my hospital bed. When my contractions were no more then a minute apart and the first of the twins began to crown and I was fully dilated it was time to push. Dr. Cosgrove looked at me,

"It's time to push Y/N can you do that for me"

I nodded screaming as I bore down with all of my might, I screamed and cried for Larissa,

"LARISSA PLEASE WAKE UP"

I pushed once more and screamed till my voice was raw, when the first twin arrived instantly crying. The nurses took him, and cleaned him up, and I pushed as the second baby was ready. It slipped out no problem, in a matter of moments I lossed consciousness.

Larissa POV:

I awoke to the sound of infants crying near my hospital bed, I looked over to see my wife unconscious and bleed8ng profusely. I stood unsteady shaky feet, I seized her hand and kissed her hand,

"Darling please, please wake up"

I sobbed smoothing my lovers hair out of her face,

"Please wake up Y/n come back to me honey please darling , I can't do this without you, please wake up"

Dr. Cosgrove had the nurses drag me away from her and I heard minor bits and pieces,

"SHES NO BREATHING GET ME A CRASH CART CLEAR, ALRIGHT AMP IT UP AND HIT ME AGAIN CHARGING NOW, CLEAR"

I slumped against the door way and it was like everything was in slow motion, they cleared the room,

"Larissa we need you to call it, we need the T.O.D"

I shook my head no, repeatedly, I shoved them out of the room to leave me alone with her I locked the door. And I closed the curtains, I kissed my beautiful wife's face and I recalled her earlier statement from before the pumpkin patch.

"I'm a half vampire psychic"

I stood up and grabbed a scalpel gently cutting my arm a small cut and squeezed the blood into her mouth.

"Don't you fucking die on me y/n, don't you die, tell me this isn't goodbye love you fucking tell me"

I closed her mouth, and charged the shock pads again and shocked my wife myself, giving it one last try.

End of Larissa’s POV

I gasped springing up from the table and clawed at my throat, it burned, I was so thirsty . The lights and the sounds of the hospital were so bright, and the only thing that kept me steady was the feeling of Larissa’s arms wrapping around me and her shaky crying breaths she kissed me softly repeating over and over how much she loves me.

"The twins are okay they are healthy, I'm gonna let the doctor back in now"

The doctors filed and looked Larissa and I over and when they had cleaned us up, and cleared us they brought the twins in . Larissa and I each held them,

"Hello my baby boys, hi were your mommys"

Larissa smiled and kissed my forehead,

"What are we going to name them?"

I smiled,

"I was thinking Tristan and Oliver"

Larissa smiled and kissed me,

"They are perfect, so which am I holding darling?"

I smiled,

"That's Oliver and this is Tristan"

Larissa nodded, we spent the evening sorting on the babies, I fed them both while Larissa supported me.

We were happy, and safe, and for the first time in a long time we could relax because all of those who had wished to do us harm were dead. When we were finally cleared we took the boys home, and Larissa came and got us from the hospital the day of Halloween our boys went home in their first Halloween costumes-pumpkins. Enid and Wednesday had picked them for us and had them dropped off with a note that said,

"You still got to pick out your pumpkins"

We had just set the twins down for the night after a bath, and feeding, when Larissa had rolled up her sleeve reveling a freshly done tattoo next to a cut that would surely scar and was stitched shut. The scar looked like a question mark.

"I remember what you said to me y/n, at my funeral, and those words stuck with me even yesterday when I was fighting to bring you back and I couldn't wake you up, but then you did and I was relieved. Do you remember what we said?"

I shook my head, I couldn't remember it seemed so far away, Larissa kissed me and removed the bandage that was hiding the tattoo, and in our handwriting read the words.

"Tell me this isn't goodbye, love?"

That is the end of this part, I could leave it here on a relatively happy note. Everyone's alive and safe except for Laurel and Tyler. Let me know in the comments what you think, and if you think I should continue.

@o1iviac1aire @barbarasstar @vii-v @winterfireblond @propertyofmilfs

#larissa weems #fanfic #ficlet

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djbunnie · 1 year

Text

DamiRae Monster High AU

Heads up! sorry it's a huge mess of ideas just...speed run this prompt😅

so … I'm bored! What if Damian and Raven were in the Monster High AU. I have some ideas! but I can't decide😵.Since Monster High is a Modern/ Fantasy gerner. I thought it would be fun to explore some options.

Unfortunately, I did some research on Islamic monsters and folklore…and I'm sorry to say it, but none of them fit Damian…. at least to me. It really sucks because I really want Damian as an Islamic mythical creature. But if you agree or disagree, explain why or why not? I would love to read and share your comments.

So here is my DamiRae Monster High AU portfolio. (Also outfit, accessories, and etc).

Raven R. Constantine: adopted child of Sorcerer Supreme John Constantine.

Race: Demon

Appearance/Killer Style: She is tall, has a crimson skin tone, 4 yellow eyes, white hair (high messy bun with full bangs) and black stiletto nails. Victorian/Lolita, with a bit of Western 1950 vintage aesthetic. "I can't go anywhere without my book earrings with matching necklace!" (something like this)

Freaky flaw: impulsive shopper, likes to spend all her money on books, comics, and other book-related gimmicks. I hate not having money for lunch just because I spent it on a book embosser because Tiktok told me to.

Favorite color: pink!

Favorite food: DESSERT!

Biggest pet peeve: Yuck, where do I even begin…. Books in series are a different size, movie poster covers, book covers are shorter than the pages, stickers printed on the cover, broken spines, books with a sticker on the cover that you can peel off but it leaves the stickiest residue known to mankind for all eternity! And so much more!

Favorite activity: Reading, collecting rare books (including other books and comics), writing stories (both as a writer and a comic artist), social media (Raven is a Booktuber).

Pet: Edgar Nevermore, is a raven with scarlet 4 eyes. He is quite the chatterbox.

Favorite subject at school: Monster History

Least favorite subject: Sports

Friends: Damian, Conner, Donna, Garfield, Jamie.

______________________________________________________________

Damian Al Ghul: He is a mummy and a member of the very prestigious Al Ghul family.

Killer Style: (I couldn't decide) he wears a dark (green, black and gold) suit with a black bow tie and a large Egyptian gold mask covering his face. Or he wears a black t-shirt, green cargo pants and an Egyptian style collar over his bandages. (Just imagine the pharaoh from the Boo York movie, but with Damian).

Freaky flaw: According to my classmates, I'm "overly competitive." Apparently, wanting to be the best is a bad thing…. On the other hand, the thumb war against Conner got out of hand last week just because we couldn't decide where to go for summer vacation….

Favorite color: Green (because of the money).

Favorite food: Pumpkin curry with rice

Biggest pet peeve: losing, I will win and destroy all my competitors!

Favorite activity: playing with his pets

Pet: Titus (mummy dog or jackal) he is perfect.

Favorite school subject: Art

Least favorite school subject: n/a. (he values education)

Friends: Raven, Conner, Donna, Garfield, Jamie.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, the reason I chose Damian to become a mummy is 1: because in the Monster High universe, mummies = wealth. Also, in the Boo York movie, there is a character named Pharaoh whose family is very rich, and I thought Damian would be the opposite of him (personality wise). Damian is going to be an entrepreneurial, business-oriented character. And since it's a modern Au, I thought it would be great if Raven was a YouTuber in this universe.

Do you guys agree or disagree with that. I would love to discuss this further with you guys, it could be anything, her monster race, personality, origin and so on!!!!

#damirae

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victorianchap · 1 year

Photo

🔸 Stereoscope picture of a figure wearing a white cape and a Halloween pumpkin mask takes a person by surprise in their kitchen, circa 1865. #victorianchaps #goodolddays #oldphoto #retro #stereoscopic #vintage #1860s #victorian #nostalgia #pastlives #history #horror #scary https://www.instagram.com/p/ComfDEZjvTO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#victorianchaps #goodolddays #oldphoto #retro #stereoscopic #vintage #1860s #victorian #nostalgia #pastlives #history #horror #scary

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testosteronetwunk · 7 months

Note

Sage and nutmeg!

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

this is such a hard question because monumental works of art like beautiful buildings or massive statues have always captivated me because of their largesse but i also love novels that are written in a vivid nabokov-like style where but i also like the art of antique art restoration idk it’s hard

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

this is so embarrassing but my room is absolutely lined with vintage halloween masks and early 2000s halloween decor. whenever i go grocery shopping in autumn i always come back with at least one pumpkin EVERY time i shop so the living room is decked out in pumpkins 24/7

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snkrcollctn · 7 months

Text

Mizuno launch the Noh Mask pack, a special tribute to Japanese heritage in three iconic silhouettes including the Mizuno Wave Rider 10 'Noh Mask Pack' Shoes in Opal Grey/Opal Grey/Pumpkin Spice. Each shoe is inspired by masks used in classic Japanese "Noh" dance-dramas, a nod to Japanese tradition, craftsmanship and simplicity.

The Wave Rider Shoes feature a unique design inspired by the "Okina" mask, the oldest of the Noh masks which expresses wisdom. Featuring intricate details such as Kenji letters strap details and subtle embroidery throughout and a complex colour combination with contrasted tongue lining and heel. Boasting a classic vintage design with brown and off-white soles, lining, and logo. An authentic craftmanship reminiscent of a museum quality piece.

Created with a sophisticated mixture of perforated suede and mesh, produced in gradients of similar hues. Adding to the premium look the leather Runbird has a tonal finish to finish off this iconic style. Comprised of Mizuno's thermoplastic Wave Technology insert, these shoes offer superior cushioning, stability, and energy return in an iconic retro style silhouette.

Mizuno strive to create the perfect balance between soft contrast, tonal colours and premium materials to provide the highest level of quality and performance.

#Mizuno #noh mask #japanese culture #waverider #sneaker illustration #sneakerhead #sneaker photography #sneakers #snkr collctn #got 'em #not nike #snkrcollctn

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chronic-boogara · 2 years

Note

Hello one of the most talented writers on this platform I’m here for a match up. I’d prefer a male slasher but women are ok too.

I’m an Infp, an aries and I have autism so that’s part of what’s wrong with me. I have a few dream careers. I would love to be an author or sfx artist. I mainly write poetry and horror stories outside of fan fiction. I also crochet. I’m still learning but I’ve made some cool stuff. I know how to hand sew and hopefully I will learn how to use this old sewing machine from my grandma without breaking it like I always somehow end up doing.

My main love languages are physical touch and gift giving but those are like 2% higher than the others so I’m pretty even. I’m really into slasher and horror movies, my favorite being Texas chainsaw massacre one or two. I can write essays about horror movies honestly. I know a decent amount of fashion history from the 1920’s to the 1990’s, very specific I know but it was my special interest for awhile.

My favorite artists are Strawberry switchblade and Melanie Martinez. I also listen to David Bowie, Siouxie and the Banshees, Hole, and Switchblade Symphony. I want to collect cds and vinyls and cassettes if I had a player for them.

I love dressing in a 70’s/80’s masculine style with occasionally being more feminine. I have a like grown out mullet hairstyle I’m trying to continue to grow out. My hair is dark brown and curly. Sometimes I tease it to be more like an 80’s hairstyle and choke on hairspray every time. I’m like 5’4 (short king) and I have my ears double pierced and my nostril pierced too. I don’t really plan on getting more but you never really know.

My favorite season is fall and I love Halloween. I also wanna collect vintage Halloween type shit (I know I want to collect a lot of stuff it’s the pigeon who likes shiny things in me) I’m decent at carving pumpkins and I love those foggy fall morning more than I love life itself.

I hope this is enough or not too much. I trust you’ll give me the best match up you can <3

𝐢 𝗺𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝗼𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡- 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫➳♡

♡your perfect match is the infamous bubba sawyer. he’s just a big bundle of love and he’s so excited to give it to you. he’s honest, kind and extremely romantic (when he wants to be)

♡wowow you’re just so interesting y/n! please tell him everything about your interests. every story you write he wants to read. he doesn’t care what you think about it. he knows he’s going to love it. teach him how to read while you’re at it<3 he’ll want to write about you once he learns how to properly do so.

♡he is so infatuated with you so please tell him every single dream/goal you have. he may have no idea what sfx is but he is more than happy to listen to you explain it to him. he’ll do his best not to forget

♡bubba is v curious about your style. you’re always so handsome in his eyes. he doesn’t much like the hairspray though it makes him sneeze. he will try to style his hair like yours :). teach the baby boy how to style his hair and wash it and he’s golden.

♡he loves your height!! he doesn’t mind you being shorter than him. he would love to pick you up and spin you around. it’s also nice having a smaller person around the house to help reach under small places and lure in victims.

♡bubba owns a cassette player but has no tapes :(so if you have any he wants to listen to them with you. oh and don’t worry about him not liking your music. he is not picky in the least bit. all music is beautiful to his ears especially if he knows you like it

♡in all honestly bubba is indifferent to your autism. (he’s on the spectrum as well but isn’t really aware) he doesn’t see any reason to not love you because of it.

♡you like to sew!? oh my gosh so does HE! the amount of joy that fills his heart when he finds out that you have a similar interest is immeasurable. sewing is his outlet. he will want to show you everything he can do. and if you want he can show you how to make your own mask! you’re a fashion expert so teach him about clothes and what’s popular. he’d love to be up with the times. matching outfits y/n?

♡he shows his love through hugs and kisses and just lots of lots of touching so it’s a good thing you’re into it. he’s always hands with you but never in an inappropriate way more like a doting lover kind of way. and don’t even get him started on gifts. he loves giving you gifts. he isn’t too good with words so the less speaking that goes on the better. he knows a little sign language so he’ll say i love you that way as well.

♡horror movies scare bubba a lot (how ironic) so you’ll have to make things less scary for him when you talk about them. it’s not his first choice for movie night but as long as you promise to hold him tight during the extra scary scenes he will agree.

♡he wants you to be comfortable around his family as much as possible but they embarrass him constantly. calling you his sweet little boyfriend and other corny things like that. bubba wants them to appreciate and love you like he does. aside from the nagging from drayton and the light teasing from chop-top and nubbins you four get along great. and don’t worry about eating the “special meat” they also have a farm with other animals though they’re usually pretty scarce as well as vegetarian options. bubba would never make you eat it if you didn’t want to.

♡bubba has never been on a date so his blueprint for such things come from movies. most of your dates will be walks to the flower fields or little fancy dinners he sets up himself. he tries his best to make you comfortable.

♡bubba does his best to be the best boyfriend he can be for you. you’re his special someone and no one will take that away from him <3

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