#pumpkin butcher

[mitskikissme]

Happy halloween! Stay safe out there!!

#in case its not obvious zoro is a slime monster robin is dracula #franky is Frankenstein's monster #chopper is a pumpkin #usoppnis a werewolg #nami cat #sanji butcher??? #luffy zombiw #andd then zolu #one piece fanart #op #one piece #zolu #sanji #luffy #i love u luffy #okay also zoro is a slime monsyer but he cant speak he just forms words with his slime #luffy can only grunt but zoro understands him regardless #true love! #usopp is trans here also #thats not relevant to the piece but it is relevant to ME #:)

[mannyblacque]

Very Very Frightening by Butcher Billy

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#halloween #michael myers #halloween 3 #season of the witch #halloween iii #queen #bohemian rhapsody #horror movies #john carpenter #70's horror #80's horror #butcher billy #happy halloween #the shape #witch #skeleton #jack o lantern #pumpkins #horror art #halloween art

[thatonewannabedragon]

My main sona but spook-ified! I realized that I didn't have a Halloween outfit and had to change that asap. I'm super proud of this especially since it was a new style for me.

#mc sona #minecraft #minesona #halloween #pumpkin #cw slight body horror #mineblr #digital art #drawing the patched was a fun as well #its been a while since I played with muted colors so this was nice #can't wait to butcher all the details to make it a skin

[butcherbitching]

Our sister site handled all the sides we sold for thanksgiving. Which is good, because they weren’t in our way for most of the day unlike last year. It’s bad because I know what we sell these sides for and I’m fucking embarrassed of their quality.

#everyone raving about G’s 3 dozen pies and how good they looked #well just like last year I took one that didn’t sell home and if I’d paid full price I’d be livid #pumpkin pie—store bought mass produced crust; filling obviously mixed (badly) to make 36+ pies at a time #so egg and spice distribution sucked. bad. Marie calendar does it better for half the price #apple pie—so pretty with its lattice crust! that was made out of predone puff pastry and thus only required it to be cut then assembled #(no rolling out dough) and the ratio of puff pastry to apple filling was *fucked*. we cut costs by using less filling so the pie is dry #on top of that whoever cut the apples did it wrong—they cut too close to the cores and left all those little cellulose pieces #that protect the seeds in the mix so every other bite you’d get a bit of basically indigestible organic plasticine #and I’m not angry that G can’t make a pie; I’m angry he made a bunch of pies that were shitty #and we proceeded to sell them for damn near $30 #before I was a butcher I was a baker; can u tell?

[nil-the-glitch]

actually yknow what, no. this is not being limited to discord, yall get it too.

some general cooking tips (in which there is a brief senshi posession):

moisture is the enemy of crispy skin. pat dry with paper towel, and if you have the time and spoons, give a thorough but even coat of baking powder and let sit uncovered in your fridge overnight. this will dry out the skin nicely. for pork belly, create a tight foil boat so that only the skin is showing, and cover in salt to draw out moisture, repeating a couple times if necessary.

furikake seasoning, for the fellow rice lovers, is just nori (seaweed), sesame seeds, sugar, and msg/salt. you might have most if not all of these things already in your kitchen.

chai spice mix is just cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, & allspice.

pumpkin spice is just cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger.

to cure your own bacon, you only need water, white and brown sugar, and a non-iodized salt - himalayan pink salt is not iodized, if you cannot find butchers curing pink salt. from there, you can add any seasoning/flavoring you want.

the truly adventurous may cook their rice in green tea for a fresh clean taste.

you can tell if a fish is truly fresh by their eyes - clear and bright is fresh, while cloudy is older or potentially has been frozen.

it's cheaper to buy a large block pack of ramen from your local asian market and repackage the bricks into sandwich bags, than to buy a box of individually packaged ones such as maruchan or top ramen.

when buying meat, look at it's fat content - more fat marbling usually means more tender + flavorful.

you can save onion skins and other vegetable scraps to make your own broth with. you can also save bones for this. mix and match ratios to create your ideal flavor.

bay leaf will always make a soup or broth taste better, but Watch Out (they are not fun to bite into on accident).

msg is, in fact, not The Devil, that was just a racist hate campaign against the chinese and other oriental races. it's literally just a type of salt. it is no more dangerous to eat than any other type of salt.

washing your rice is important because it not only improves flavor and texture by removing excess starch, but it also helps reduce any residual pesticides or dirt, or even insect fragments (please remember that rice paddies are essentially giant ponds that all kind of things live in and swim around. you should also be washing all your produce in general.)

please salt your cooking water for pastas, it just tastes better and you will be happier for it.

boiled potatoes are also improved by salt water.

if you hate vegetables, please consider trying them fried in butter or perhaps bacon grease. it is healthier to eat them fatty than not at all.

healthy food does not in fact have to taste miserable. thats a lie. they are lying to you. free yourself from your blandness shackles. enter a world of flavor.

#cooking #cooking tips

[fandomohana]

Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? False, my pumpkin pattern collection will never be complete. 🤣🤣🤣 I have carving books, and patterns from when I was a kid, vintage, baby! My oldest, as far as I can tell, is from 1992. 🎃 Mostly likely purchased for my older sister, as I was three at the time. 🤣🤣🤣 I try to buy a new one every year, I've failed the last two years, for obvious reasons...

#halloween #halloween 2022 #pumpkin carving #pumpkin carving marathon #christina talks #christina butchers little mermaid song #forgive me ariel #pumpkin patterns

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day. 

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees. 

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it. 

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block- 

The shop phone rings. 

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands. 

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait. 

There’s no response. 

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out. 

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen. 

The line clicks dead in the next second. 

Odd. 

The shop girl is chewing gum. 

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far. 

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone. 

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer. 

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist. 

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.  

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. 

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring. 

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash? 

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“ 

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine. 

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you. 

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here. 

“Well. Thanks.” 

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash. 

It is what it is. 

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting. 

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning. 

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week. 

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence. 

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.   

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin. 

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. 

“Lock the door, little doe.” 

#peaches writes #guess the au? #ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #still written on the phone so #mind the mistakes

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

#zodiac #astrology #planets #sun #moon #mars #venus #mercury #jupiter #saturn #uranus #neptune #pluto

[wandagcre]

my pumpkin | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x AFAB ! reader)

Sam wants to try something new with you.

WARNING: smut, dark dom! ghostface! sam, dark sub!reader (they're both crazy), can be interpreted as intersex!sam or cumming strap-on sam, mentions of blood and murder, knife play, possessiveness, breeding kink, slight degradation & humiliation, aftercare +18 / men & minors dni.

Words: 5.5k | [ AO3 ]

In the middle of your night routine, you hear a thud somewhere in the apartment. Deciding to investigate, you left your glass of water in the kitchen. Like on autopilot, your feet already dragged you to approach towards the living room, and your gut was right: there was a tall figure that had caught your attention and a smile made its way to your lips with ease.

There stood Sam, in your unlit living room, her dark thick robe pooling by her combat boots and she was taking off the bloody Ghostface mask. Her hair was haphazardly tied up and she's left with her wifebeater tank top and dark sweatpants — bronze skin currently dripping with sweat. Sam had a blank expression on, maybe a hint of bloodlust glint that lingered on her face, which turned you on — imagining how it must've been so good to see her in the act, especially this one.

You spot a few bruises and cuts on her upper body. You already expected this, walking away for a second to retrieve the first-aid kit and mentally taking note to ice some of her bruises later. 

Sam's hazel eyes lit up soon as she met yours, arms opening for a hug.

"Love. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?"

"You too, Sammy." You affectionately murmur and nestled deeper in the embrace and Sam tightens her grip in return. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There you were with Sam in the small bathroom in your shared apartment. She sat quietly by the closed toilet, her arm brought up to you. Moments like this were your favorite, having to tend her cuts and bruises. There was something about Sam appearing as both vulnerable and vicious post-murder during the ungodly hours.

"Wanna tell me how it went?" You start as you wipe the remaining blood on her skin then you dab the cotton with alcohol feather light. The curiosity was eating you. 

In return, Sam smiles at how your eyes twinkled as you asked, she pulls away slightly, her hold on you moving to your waist to pull you closer in between her legs. The faint smell of peaches and cigarettes immediately filled your senses.

She sighed, "He was all talk. Pissed me off a bit with that foul mouth he got running whenever he saw a woman..." Sam’s grip by your soft waist tightens at some thought, "It made me think of how rude and disgusting he must have been to you, princess. And that angers me so much."

"But you took care of it, I know you did good." you respond with much appreciation in your tone, as if the conversation that had transpired was casually about the weather. Your hands find their way on top of Sam’s hair, your thumb gently caressing through them.

The corner of Sam’s eyes crinkled. "Anything for my baby. He squirmed like a useless pig." 

The cold room was filled with laughter. It was easy to say that the two of you were truly match made in heaven. The person in question was your boss, who thought he was being sly with his provocative comments and uncomfortable staring at you while at work. He was insufferable to say at least. Even the last interaction you had with him was you trying to play along with one of his nauseous comments because God knows given your position, he’ll always have his way.

Sadly for him, he doesn’t even know it'll be his last day to live. 

Because you didn't even have to tell Sam because she was there to witness, right outside your workplace to pick you up and his sleazy gestures unfolded in front of your waiting girlfriend. Your boss just had to outwardly say that ‘he can’t get enough of your good and shapely presence’ within Sam’s earshot.

Now? He's nothing but a fresh butchered meat fed to a bloodlust Loomis.

You left your girlfriend in the bathroom for some privacy. For a few minutes, you heard water running.  To your surprise however, as you plop down to your shared bed, Sam was across you and there was a pensive look on her face as she leans by the door frame. Her hair remains to be haphazardly tied on, her hands a bit wet.

“I wanna try something on you, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“This.” 

Sam retrieves a familiar dagger from her back – it was the one you managed to get your hands on and gave it to her as a birthday present. Back then, you didn’t know yet whether the Ghostface version of her had existed yet; but you did this anyway after she opened up about her previous encounters given by the reputation that precedes her, to provide her with some sort of an easy to carry and hide of a self-defence weapon. With her words and the dagger on her hand, you were confused to say at least.

“I need you to elaborate, Sam.” you ask, to which Sam bit her lip and sauntered towards you. 

"I’m going to mark you with it. Nothing too deep and crazy, trust me. And you can also say no! I promise I won’t be mad. It’s only a thought, baby.”

“Alright.” You exhale, sitting with crossed legs, looking up to her and see Sam visibly becoming relaxed. “But can I ask why you want to do it? I genuinely just want to know your reason behind it. And how…exactly?”

Sam’s eyes softened as her eyes were pierced onto yours, "It’s basically just carving a small thing to your body. I… I want to mark you in a way that’s personal and close to who I am. Also, I want to remember us – this being my first kill for you.”

You understand now, pulling Sam by her thighs who still stood tall in front of you for a hug. The scent of peaches and cigarettes fill your nose once again, it was oddly addicting and comforting. It was distinctively very Sam.

"So, it's about owning me... in your terms?"

“Yes.” she whispered.

You decide to lighten up the mood, “And you’re sure this is your first kill for me? Not my old friend from my hometown?”

Sam frowned, almost not getting get your joke – but soon she heartily chuckles as the realization dawns upon her. There was another case you suspected, an old friend whom Sam felt very territorial over you when you told her that they confessed when you returned home. Suspiciously, they disappeared, but you find out a year later that they only travelled on a spontaneous trip.

“No. But... maybe I almost wanted to.”

You bite your bottom lip and Sam nudges you with her finger by your shoulder, motioning for you to make space for her in the bed. Now she joins you beneath the sheets, standing on her knees, looking down as she’s still towering over you.

“That’s hot.” 

Sam shakes her head and closes the distance between you two, “Only you would say that…” She holds the dagger on her dominant hand, the sharp metal pointed away from you.

The cold night is coming to a close, barely feels like one, as the room starts to become heated. Especially with your girlfriend’s eyes unashamedly trailing over your body, like you were a delicious prey served as a five-star meal just for her.

“And that’s exactly why you love me.” You say with ease, lips now ghosting near hers, feeling her ragged breath increasing. 

"Exactly, baby. No one compares.” 

Sam tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Your face heats up at the gesture. You didn't feel any different around her, like any other day around her you remained to feel safe. Secured. Not even her retelling stories of her vivid killings can even change that. Perhaps, you were as sick as her, but you couldn’t give a single fuck about it.

With an exhale, you give her the green light. 

"Okay baby. I trust you."

A wolfish grin appeared on her lips, changing so quickly like a mere switch. With that sight, a shot of arousal started to stir on your stomach.

"Remember your colors, baby. Say red and we’ll stop immediately. How do you feel right now?" 

The dagger made its presence known as Sam dragged the pointed end on your bare right thigh with slight pressure startled you – not enough to draw blood – yet it was sharp and daunting, completely contradicting the gentleness in her tone. 

"G-green," you stuttered out. 

“Good girl.” Sam says and tilts your chin up using the dagger. “Now strip for me.”

Your breath hitches once again. The lust is heightened as you feel Sam’s piercing eyes on you, watching you wiggle off your skimpy shorts first, eyes following and so attentive to the growing damp spot on your underwear. Her dagger remained on your chin until it was time for you to strip out of her old loose shirt that you chose to wear earlier and Sam audibly groaned when she found out that you weren’t wearing any bra at all, she zones out in the sight. You feel her scoot on the sheets closer to you – to say that she was a big fan of your tits would be an understatement.

“Fucking irresistible,” Sam lets out a groan and starts to busy herself, already moved onto a different agenda – mouth and teeth getting involved as she marks and sucks all over your tits, your skin becoming thoroughly wet and littered with hickeys. For a few minutes she stayed on worshipping your upper body. While it turned you on, the ache in your cunt was also becoming an issue, making you squirm. “That’s already an appetizer and dessert for me, shit, you’re just so good…” 

Now her thighs have your almost naked body trapped,  Sam remains hovering above you as you laid down. You get a closer look of her taut muscles flexing through the wifebeater she wears as she moves, a few scars coming to light on her body. You realize that she’s about to take you while in her post-murder outfit, making you squirm your legs once again trying to find ease in your arousal. She’s still sweaty and sticky but you honestly can’t care any less. Not when you have her sculpted body ready to pounce on you at any moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to shower first?” You joke and her expression didn’t falter.

Sam only smirked. “We were going to change the sheets, anyway. I planned on having you either way for tonight.” Her hot breath was so close, tickling your exposed skin.

Your body felt warmer, opposed to her cold free hand that slightly startled you as she roughly palmed a cupful of your tits, giving it another good squeeze. 

“Fuck…” you moan, her moves to affect you were rapidly increasing.

Sam teased again by her slow hands going for a sharp tug on your nipple. “We’re getting into it, princess.” 

She lowered herself and finally met your lips for a kiss, the slow and softness of a start quickly dissipated as she grew hungry for more. Still kissing you, both hands trying to cup your face, occasionally darting her tongue on your mouth. Sam moved fast and rough, as though she was quenching her thirst and your lips were the only water left for her. You wouldn’t be surprised if your lips actually bruised. You were starting to feel breathless and lightheaded, trying to match her pace and she pulled away to tug on your bottom lip. She swiped it with her tongue for good measure. You don’t feel her close anymore and yet you still tried to chase her lips again, only to find out that she looked smug as soon as you opened your eyes.

“Just for me.” Sam murmurs to no one.

You dazedly acknowledge her, “Yes, only yours.”

“God, If you only know how you endlessly drive me mad...”

Sam had her palm pressed on the mattress, resting on the side of your head. You meet her halfway by having your elbows propped up, carrying your upper body’s weight. Yet, you don’t know how long it’ll last – not with Sam’s mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on your body; from your cheek, affectionate and soft, to your neck where her nose tickled you and mouth that met where your jugular vein rests – lingering to suck and bite. You don’t even try to conceal your moans to your girlfriend’s delight, the sounds loud enough to make her eager as ever. Your eyes roll on the back of your head, immediately lost to the sensation. With the tip of the knife pressed on your plush stomach all at once and scratching you lightly, though lifted quickly, it made your stomach twitch and you whimper.

You feel unbearably soaked, clearly wanting for more. Completely certain that you're damp enough for your Sam to smell your arousal. Your girlfriend smirks in confirmation and when she moves her hip low enough for yours to meet. When you pushed your core closer against your girlfriend's, Sam already has your ass cupped, squeezing your flesh, and it only made you grind hard enough to feel something hard — 

Oh. 

You feel her.

The walls of your cunt started to rapidly clench on nothing. Sam detaches her hips away from you after a little teaser and your fingers make their way to her hair, then caressing on Sam's nape and your girlfriend arches her neck, groaning in response. She moves lower, wanting to give you wet kisses placed on the soft rolls of your stomach which slightly tickled you in the process. You were about to protest, beyond needy, but it seems that Sam has already read your mind.

"Here it comes." 

You take a deep breath and feel the sharp knife moving in ragged curves as Sam draws with it. She pushes it down a few millimeters more on your stomach. You groan in each line she makes, it stings a little as she continues marking.

"Wanna know what I marked, princess?" Sam regains your attention by tilting your chin up to look at her using the knife, you open your eyes, seeing the metal now painted with red specks of blood.

"Y-Yes.”

"It's the first letter of my name. So every time you take a look in the mirror naked, you'll always be reminded that you're nobody else's but mine."

"Oh fu- fuck, fuck!" you whimper, although now you feel turned on more than anything. 

The knife resumes in contact with your freshly marked area again, Sam drags it as if she's tracing it for the second time on your skin. your eyes are screwed shut — you can't explain the sensation, walking in the line between pain and pleasure. It stings yet it's so addicting. You think that a huge chunk of it was maybe because it was Sam doing it with her honeyed voice and dark tunnel gaze onto you.

"You're doing so good, baby." She praises you, voice deeper than ever.

Sam crawls down lower onto you and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, curious of her next move. The spot now feels wet as you feel your girlfriend licking your fresh wound and you let out a strangled moan in response.

“Oh god!”

When you made eye contact with your girlfriend, her eyes were heavy lidded more than ever. It’s evident even in the room that’s barely lit, only the lamp on, and you see her wet lips tugged in a smirk. The color red is slightly evident from having to sucked off the trail of blood that trickled out of your fresh wound.

Sam meant it when she said that it'll leave a scar enough for you to see even right after this session. In theory, you should be terrified of how precise your girlfriend is with the weapon, but you aren't at all. You are thrilled in reality, as you know that Sam is using a special dagger to brand you, different amongst the one she uses to kill her victims; this one was shorter and unused, not actually meant to kill. For you and only you.

After all, who doesn't like being proved to be her princess and a special exception?

The aftermath of the knife's stinging hasn't left just yet. As you reel into the sensation, you feel the mattress dip and you see Sam adjusting.

“Sit up for me.” Sam orders and you quickly scramble into position, legs folded, facing your girlfriend. “Color?”

“Still green.” you whisper, eyes becoming watery. “Can you please touch me now?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Instead, there was the dagger, the side of it being dragged across your tits down to your pelvis. Your girlfriend had set your underwear aside. You close your eyes again to flutter out the teariness, then something plunges inside of your core. The object feels foreign against your spongy walls and it's coming in fast and intrusive. It makes you moan unadulteratedly loud, heat spreading all over your body. It was the most relief your cunt has received had felt this entire session; evident in the way your wetness seeped more, yet you’re becoming slightly embarrassed of the sloshing sounds that fills the room as the thing continues to move in and out of your flesh. 

"I wish I had recorded this, princess. Look at you taking it all in..." Sam murmurs huskily and her words feel hot on your body.

“Record?” 

Your girlfriend tilts her head, “Maybe next time,” She winks at you.

You’re a putty mess under her touch. Sam finds utmost joy seeing you unravelling into this form, unable to form coherent sentences as she has her way with you. You meet her entranced look – mouth quirked up and eyes more lust filled. As your eyes trail lower over Sam, you notice that your girlfriend’s dominant hand has the dagger’s flat base carefully held – the handle being plunged in and out of your pussy. The bed creaks more.

"Your pussy is so fucking greedy, taking my dagger so good... I can feel you pulsating in it. Maybe I'm gonna fuck you right after then cum inside of you, as a reward, huh?" she changes the angle of the dagger’s handle, pushing deeper and faster into you and you feel yourself leak even more, grasping on her hair. 

"Oh yes! yes! A-anything you want, S-Sam!"

"Knew you'd agree. My princess who's a whiny slut for me," Sam continues her ministrations, hand remaining precise, and you feel her free arm snake around your soft waist, as if she's trapping you. "you're making a mess in the bed, honey. Are you not embarrassed?"

You feel a twinge of embarrassment, realizing you were lost on riding your girlfriend’s dagger alone while she was simply thrusting the dagger’s handle in and out of you, all with ease, looking like a desperate whore while dripping and making a mess on Sam’s hand at the same time as your pussy overflowed with wetness. 

"N-No, because I love being a slut for you," you whisper truthfully, now growing desperate to chase orgasm. "I'm so so close,"

“For me only.” Sam growls in response, making her thrust it more forcefully as if she was actually stabbing. 

You let out a throaty moan and your hands moving so frenzied to alleviate the release by clawing all over Sam's back – anywhere you can reach and balance upon. Sam deliciously grunts at the action.

Like a cold bucket poured down on your then burning body, Sam dislodged the handle completely from your desperately soaked cunt. Now you’re back to clenching onto nothing, the ache between your legs becoming a real challenge for you to hold yourself for much longer.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I was about to cum, Sam..." you complain, feeling sensitive, tears running on your cheeks.

Sam comforts you, cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumb. 

"Patience, baby." your girlfriend hushes you and you find her looking completely lost as you are, giving you comfort. She had her free hand sprawled on your lower stomach. "Suck this for me first. Then I'll let you do whatever, baby."

Sam then raises the knife that was glistening off your own wetness from earlier, making your cheeks heat up. Goodness, it’s coated ridiculously with a copious amount of wetness... which you're supposed to suck. Not that you were new to this – sucking something off for Sam – but the thought still makes you a tad shy.

You’re starting to think Sam enjoys humiliating you this much.

"All of it. C'mon, baby, get to work so we can finish you sooner." 

It's affecting Sam so much based on her raspier voice now. You comply with her order, making sure to put on a show; your free hand gripping on her shoulder and lips now on the handle of the knife, sucking all of your wetness that once coated it. You made sure to look directly at Sam's heavy lidded eyes, who was now completely hazy and her mouth open to your delight. You wanted her to lose her mind as much as you did, making sure that your cheeks were hollowed and moaning along the action, even making your tongue twirl around it. Your girlfriend exhales loudly at the sight you presented her.

“Fuck. You’re teasing me back, princess?” Sam tilts her head, questioning you. She discards the dagger, object clanking, and now somewhere on the floor. 

You were more than happy to see that it got onto her. “Just putting on a show for you…”

Sam has enough, having a taste of your arousal as she grabs you for a bruising kiss. She seems to savor it as her tongue gets involved, as though she’s eager to taste her favorite flavor. "My little slut. Still green?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?" Sam traces lightly the now marked letter S wound that resides on your lower stomach.

"No," Your girlfriend smiles at your response and you close your eyes. The ache between your legs makes itself known as you squirm over Sam’s touch. You bit your lower lip in frustration. "Want you inside of me now, please, Sammy."

“Okay. I’m going to make you choose,” She looks you straight in the eye, “Do you want to lay down or to ride me?”

A moan already escaped your throat, “W-what would you like?”

“Don’t answer me with a question, baby. I am asking you.” Her voice is deep and stern, waiting for you.

You look at her still completely dressed – unlike you, all bare for her. You start to feel a little conscious so you decide to immediately change that up.

“Want to undress you and ride you.”

You were more than ecstatic, seeing Sam nod in agreement – you absolutely waste no time in removing her wifebeater tank top, sweatpants, and boxers immediately, appreciating all of Sam’s muscular and sweaty glory. It doesn’t help that she’s got a few specks of blood still somewhere on her body, the eroticism of it all is not lost on you. Her tits were hypnotizing and to see it paired with her hard on, makes you lick your lips in anticipation. You start to understand more why your girlfriend loves body worshipping so much, because you feel just the same as her.

Sam was amused at your dazed expression, so lost that she has to snap you to reality by pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ride me now, pretty girl.” She rasps out and you quickly get on Sam’s lap. Her length is pressed against your stomach, making your breath ragged and she isn’t even inside you yet.

You align yourself onto Sam, who glides her cock first into your wet folds. Your hands were on a deathly grip, squeezing over your girlfriend’s broad shoulder, and Sam is becoming more unrestrained with you. She huffs, snakes her arm by your waist then to your hips – continuing her motions until she is satisfied with how your wetness thoroughly coated her cock. 

“Fuck, I’m going in now, baby…” Sam’s hazel eyes peer over you, searching for any sign of discomfort. She was only met with your lust filled eyes and opened mouth, easily one of her favorite sights when it comes to you. The tip teases your clit making you moan and finally, she pushes inside of you, making you both groan at the sensation. She's big and girthy, even if it’s only half of her cock that was fully in, and your walls were still adjusting to accommodate all of her. Sam understood this, hence her careful movements, afraid of hurting you by accident. 

“Tell me whenever you’re ready, princess.”

You profusely nod your head in appreciation, “Y-yes, shit, give me a minute.”

As your walls were processing her length, Sam soaks in the feeling of being inside of you. It was so warm and comfortable; both of your single nerves felt like it was throbbing and clenching, and by God, the fucking clenching — you were gripping her cock in a way that felt delicious and so par with her possessiveness — the entirety of you, soul and body, are no one’s but hers. It was a feeling that Sam would never get tired of. 

You’re now fully sinked into Sam’s entire length, eyes getting teary in pleasure.

“You can move now,” 

Sam presses a kiss on your cheek and doesn’t waste a minute to move; Both weights being unminded given the position, the bed creaks louder than ever as you ride her. Your pussy is sopping, feeling soaked as a waterfall. In comparison to your throat, it feels dry with all the screaming you’ve done for Sam, already anticipating that you'll sound hoarse later. Maybe you won’t even have a voice to speak at all.

For a split second you think about the complaints you'd get the next day.

But being sunk deep in your girlfriend's cock, the thought vanishes quickly and you’re filled with so much desperation, hips rolling along with Sam's movements — so fucking close. The burning feeling of the cock against your walls soon dissipated, evident with the faster pace, the skin to skin slapping vibrates throughout the bedroom, your sheets are definitely mixed with wetness and stickiness.

One of Sam's hands was steadying you by holding on your soft and plush sides, the other kneading roughly on your tits. When you look at Sam, you see her eyes moving down and up in appreciation, drinking in your sight. you only moan louder as the sensations in tandem were driving you dripping and insane.

"Gonna fill you to the brim and paint your walls white," Sam’s promise vibrates delectably against your neck, the skin to skin slapping resonates louder than ever and she was pulling half and pushing in the whole of her cock in a rigorous motion. You feel helpless and reduced to a piece of dumb moanings.

"Look at you now, baby. fuck I’m gonna breed you. Not a single drop is going to drip out of this pretty pussy. I bet you'll like that, huh?"

"Y-yes, yes, yes!" 

"With the sounds you're making alone, shit, ‘m gonna cum. You're driving me mad, baby,"

Sam’s fingertips were hard and rough in circle motions against your engorged clit. It was enough to drive you to be equally mad as her, you already know that you’ll be driven over the edge. She indeed filled you to the brim, your pussy welcoming all of her now. The knot in your lower stomach finally untangles – which was much deserved – you had cum hard with Sam’s relentless thrusts, and the relief immediately washed over your body. Now you're heaving on your girlfriend’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath, yet she hasn't stopped her actions still. With a few more thrusts and grunts, you feel your girlfriend finally shoot ropes of warm cum inside of you.

"Don't move just yet." Sam moans against your neck, but it's more of a command. you still feel your pussy pulsating like crazy from your high, thinking that Sam is only doing it to ride it out, squeezing all of the cum that both of you have to release. To your surprise, she only picked up the pace and started to thrust her cock onto your pussy once again. 

"F-fuck, fuck, Sam! I'm still sensitive!" You try to slightly push her away by the shoulder.

Sam won't budge, knowing you'd say your safe word if it were the case.

"Shh. I know you can do more, princess,”

Your eyes were screwed shut and your neck thrown back, lost and savoring the pleasure. You feel how Sam's completely using your body for her pleasure, as she pulls almost her entire length out, tip of her cock still in, only to sink all of her suddenly in a fast manner. Your pussy walls were clenching, afraid that you’ll actually grow another type of heartbeat, as the pressure flows deliciously into you. You seep more wetness in the process. With Sam’s unforgiving pace, you can’t even say that you didn’t like that, being responsible for such insane fueled lust, so you let her.

The cum inside of you from earlier was getting messy as it was starting to leak along with the damp of your wetness in the sheets. If Sam's goal was to actually break the bed, you fear that it'll come to fruition as your girlfriend only continues to move her cock in and out rougher and faster than ever.

"These fucking pretty tits… all for me," Sam says in stupor, licking her lips at your sweaty and red figure. She lets her thumb and forefinger roll and tug on your nipple, then meets your mouth open in pleasure to swallow all of your moans.

Your grip on her moves to her tangled hair, barely tied now, tightened and tugging on her scalp to her pleasure. Sam grunts as she meets your hips rolling, now messy and slowly becoming uncoordinated, and gives a final few thrusts. Soon again, a relief washes over you so soon and you feel so full and insanely warm — Sam had just cummed for the second time inside of you and you just released your high as well.

"I told you," Sam huffed out, lips smirking as she looked up at you. "That I was gonna fill you up like crazy. What do you say about me marking you more, with a heart beside my first name letter this time?"

The feeling of the dagger both it’s sharpness and how she plowed it inside of you flashed quickly and familiar, the sensation still fresh. Your pussy throbs at the thought.

"You're insatiable." Sam chuckles at your words, combing your sweaty mess of hair as you whine half-heartedly at the equally messy appearance of your girlfriend’s suggestion. "And so cheesy. Like, a heart? Seriously?"

Although Sam wasn't affected at the jab in the slightest. She raises an eyebrow instead.

She cups your ass closer to her pelvis, as if there remains to be a distance between the two of you. Your cunt couldn’t help it but pathetically clench around her.

"Says the one who won't get off my cock still." Sam cockily retorts at you as she feels you adjust.

"Touché."

You remain in that same position until Sam notices that you're startled as she brushed her thumb against the fresh S wound. 

She exhales and affectionately pats your plush thigh, "Let's get up before another round, princess. We have to clean that mark up, just in case."

You tighten the grip of your thighs now wrapped around her sweaty lower back refusing to get up.

"Don't wanna. I'm comfy in here." 

You make it a point by keeping yourself snug as she's still inside of you and you clench your walls once again on her cock. Every time you do the action, the mixed fluid inside of you gushes even more, making a squelching sound and you drip a little more not only at the sheets, but as well as Sam’s thighs. Sam moans at this, her neck arched as she reels onto the feeling.

"C'mon you little tease. Say, I'll lift you through it?"

You look at her eyes seriously, "you'll stay inside?"

"Yes, doofus."

From a distance, you hear the television. 

Man, 48, was found dead and stabbed twenty-six times, suspect remains unconfirmed but suggests the Ghostface’s brutal pattern….

“I guess no work for me tomorrow…?”

“And more time for me to ruin you. It’s totally a win-win.”

Sam laughs heartily at your joke and you find yourself joining along with her. You pay no mind, letting your girlfriend scoop you with ease as you make your way towards the sink and she takes care of you. It was safe to say it wouldn't be the last time that they'll be playing with the knife. 

(please practice safe-sex!)

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #scream vi #wlw #lesbian #sam carpenter smut #ghostface #ghostface sam #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x fem reader #scream 6 #sam loomis #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter

[matchavellichor]

I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, I have this request that would make for some good angst C: Fem MC proclaiming that she'll only date a man who can best her in a duel. And Ominis ends up winning, shocking everyone including MC but she's happy about it. Up to you if smut follows after <3

A/N: I loved this idea, ty for the request! I didn't really make it angsty sorrryyy :c but I hope I compensated with the dominis smut at the end and that you enjoy nonetheless <3

How to Win the Girl

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC - NSFW - Friends to Lovers - 4.9k words - ao3

Part 2

Tags: Pining, Unrequited Love, Jealous Ominis, Dominis, Rough Sex, Classroom Sex

Summary: After hearing her proclaim that she'll only date someone who can beat her in a duel, Ominis grows determined to win her affections by any means necessary.

“I’m a simple man. I’ll snog anything with a decent enough behind.” Sebastian proclaimed matter-of-factly.

She didn’t know how this became the topic of discussion over breakfast at the Great Hall, but she indulged him nonetheless. Ominis seemed completely uninterested in the subject matter, engrossed in a Potions textbook he was currently tracing over diligently with his wand in a last bid attempt to pass the final practical exam.

She cast him a sidelong glance as she cut into her eggs. “I’ll make sure to tell Poppy to keep her mooncalves away from you.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Okay, anything decent and human.” He paused for a moment, contemplating, before he amended. “Actually, no, I did have a little tango with a Centaur some blue moon ago…”

She blinked at him. “You genuinely concern me, you know that?”

“She was cute!” He scoffed defensively. “Excuuuse me for embracing diversity. Pray tell, what are your shining standards, hm?”

She paused for a moment, considering, before she shrugged and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. “He has to beat me in a duel.”

She didn’t notice the way Ominis immediately perked up beside her, unburying his nose from the pages of his book and narrowing his attention on the conversation he had been only half-listening to.

Sebastian snorted. “Ha! Good one. You’ll die alone at that rate. Better start collecting kneazles to keep you company.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re incompetent with a wand, doesn’t mean every man is, Sebastian.”

“Hey! Incompetent is harsh. I prefer the term mildly handicapped.” He protested. “And just a duel? Like one time?”

“Yup. One duel.”

Sebastian rose resolutely from his seat, slipping from the bench hastily and nearly knocking over several goblets in the process.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I have to go practice. If I knew a roundabout with the Hero of Hogwarts was on the line I would’ve tried much harder at Crossed Wands.” He gave her a wink.

She grimaced and called out to him as he quickly made his way down the rows of tables towards the exit. “You are excluded from the list of contending bachelors, Sebastian!”

“Square is fair!” He called back and she bit back a laugh at his butchering of the Muggle saying.

Beside her, Ominis looked very much enthralled in the textbook he was only pretending to read, his thoughts instead drifting to other matters. He had spent far too long hopelessly pining for her to not consider the opportunity he was just presented with.

It was no unknown fact that she was notoriously hard to get, and that reality had only served to make him want her even more. It was utter torture.

He was so unused to not getting what he wanted, and the stubborn little witch sitting beside him just so happened to be what he wanted most.

He rose from his seat with much more patience than Sebastian did, though arguably fueled by an even greater determination to finally win her affections.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to study for Potions together.” She frowned as she watched him slip past her down the Great Hall.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He made his way to the exit and rushed to the Undercroft in Sebastian’s footsteps, his magic thrumming in his veins with a vibrant, newfound energy.

//

Sebastian crashed into a groaning heap on the stone floor of the Undercroft after the leviosa Ominis had casted wore off after a few seconds.

“Fuck’s sake, Ominis,” he sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “I thought you said you’d go easy.”

“That was easy.” Ominis crossed his arms, thrumming his fingers impatiently on his forearm as he waited for Sebastian to collect himself and get up again.

He admittedly had been a bit harsher than usual, using this “practice” as an excuse to take out his displeasure and poorly-concealed jealousy in Sebastian trying to win her affections in a duel himself. The mere thought of him anywhere near her had his magic coursing through his wand with an added bite and ferocity that usually wasn’t there.

Sebastian shook the woozy feeling from behind his eyes as he positioned himself in an offensive stance again. The first hex had barely slipped off his tongue before Ominis had a protego up and was veering a counteroffensive stinging jinx towards him.

No matter how fast he cast, the blonde always seemed to be one step ahead, moving lithely around the stone pillars in the Undercroft while Sebastian lept and rolled out of the way of his spells.

It didn’t take long for Sebastian to inevitably cry forfeit, after a barreling confringo missed his head by a few centimeters, singing the tips of his brown locks.

Ominis made his way over and outstretched a hand to help his friend off the ground. The brunette instead took this as an opportunity to tug him to the floor along with him.

He rolled his eyes. “Very mature, Sebastian.”

“Maturity is one of my many attractive qualities, you should know this by now, Ominis.”

“Yes, right there alongside your dueling abilities.” He jeered. “So…where do these duels take place, anyways?”

//

Ominis warily dodged the sounds of hexes and charms as he made his way through the dueling club towards Lucan Brattleby. Approaching the Gryffindor, he placed the few galleons for the entrance fee on the counter in front of him. 

“I’d like to duel, please.”

Lucan eyed him up and down with poorly-concealed disbelief. “You’d like to duel?” 

Ominis’ jaw set. “Did I stutter?” He nodded his head towards where he had heard her engrossed in a duel with a trio of upper-years when he walked in. “And I’d like to duel her.”

Lucan laughed as if the blonde had told a terrific joke, and then when he noticed Ominis had remained completely stoic and unamused, quieted. “Oh, you’re serious?” 

Ominis’ fists tensed at his sides. He was used to being underestimated due to his condition, but it didn’t make the blatant disrespect any less infuriating. “Are you going to let me fight or not?”

“Well, we have a hierarchy here, mate.” Lucan scoffed. “You can’t just walk in and duel someone. Especially not someone her level. You start at the bottom rank and win your way up.”

Ominis was mentally restraining himself from engaging in his own duel with the annoying little prat in front of him when Sebastian made his way over and clapped a hand over the blonde’s shoulders with a grin.

“Come to watch me fight, old pal?” 

Ominis turned and raised an eyebrow and Sebastian winced. “Er…poor choice of words, sorry.”

“I’ve come to participate, actually.” 

Sebastian raised his brows. “Against me? You haven’t battered me to your satisfaction already?” 

“No, not against you, although I’ll admit I’ll never be satisfied with any level of battering I’m allowed to inflict on you.” He nodded his head towards where she was still battling on the mats. “Against her.”

Sebastian’s brows reached his hairline now. “Ominis Gaunt, you little minx.” He butted the blonde’s shoulder playfully. “Trying to conquer her for yourself, eh? How come this is the first I’m hearing about this?”

Ominis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so crass, Sebastian. I don’t want to conquer her, how antiquated.” He muttered admonishingly. “I want to prove myself to her. But, someone here won’t let me.” He narrowed his eyes at Lucan who had been listening curiously to their conversation. 

Lucan steepled his fingers over his chin contemplatively. “Hold on. You said Ominis Gaunt, right? As in…heir-of-Slytherin, dark-magic, rich-up-the-wazoo, Gaunt?” 

Ominis’s mouth set into a line at his family’s notoriety before giving a reluctant nod.

“I’ll tell you what. Pay triple the entrance fee and I’ll let you jump ahead and get your ass kicked by your little girlfriend.”

Ominis fished out the hefty sum of galleons from his pocket and slammed it on the counter, not pleased, but certainly in no position of loss by the demand. He’d be willing to pay a hundred times the amount if it meant a chance at winning her hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Lucan greedily pocketed the money before handing the blonde his entrance slip, indicating his place for the duel. “Also, hope you’re aware that no Unforgivables are allow—”

Ominis scowled before yanking the ticket from his hand. “Sod off.”

He cut past the crowd of onlookers and found his place in line by the mats where she was dueling, that same ardent determination making his magic hum in his core as he listened to her cast spell after spell. 

He couldn’t deny he felt a bit nervous about actually being in a battle with her. He had thrown around Sebastian in the Undercroft enough times, but never had he faced an opponent as formidable as her. Every incantation rolled off her tongue with a practiced amount of ease, short and concise, and he didn’t have to see her to know she was barely breaking a sweat as she fought off three foes on her own. 

He would have to be creative if he were going to come out victorious.

When the match was declared a definitive win for her, she made her way off the dueling mats and broke into a smile when she caught sight of Ominis on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Ominis! What’re you doing here?”

He held up his queue slip. “Whatever one normally does at a dueling club.”

The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. “I’ll be eager to see your skills in the arena.”

“You’ll see them, alright.” He smirked. “We’re up next.”

She was certainly surprised by this revelation, but to his satisfaction, made no doubtful comments about his sparring abilities. Instead, she stretched her shoulders and promptly got back onto the dueling mat, beckoning for him to follow.

“Come on, then. I’ll make this quick for you.”

//

She in fact did not make this quick for him.

She was soon greatly impressed by the realization that Ominis was actually an incredibly talented duelist. 

Sharp and agile, every swish of his wand calculated and precise. She was half-convinced his lack of sight actually led him to have even quicker reflexes than her average opponent, deflecting every single one of her spells with ease. 

Her pleasant curiosity quickly turned into begrudging frustration, though, when they’d been throwing hexes back and forth with no considerable gain made on either of their parts.

Never one to accept a draw, she cast the next spell with a little bit of extra ferocity, determined to at least knock the blonde off his feet and pull this duel that had stretched on for far too long now closer to its end. 

Unfortunately, she underestimated her own strength, and had caught Ominis in an unfortunate blind-spot —pun unintended— flinging him backwards across the arena. He landed with a sickening thud on the floor after colliding with one of the arched pillars in the room.

She winced as she knew that must’ve hurt. Badly. 

Which is why to her concern, and increasing horror, Ominis hadn’t let out even a single whimper of pain. Instead, lying completely motionless and cold, sprawled out on the flagstone floor. 

Her stomach sank.

Immediately, she ran over to him, her wand slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor as she fought the nauseating dread inside of her at the thought of having seriously hurt him.

Sinking to her knees before him, she immediately took his face in her hands, scouring over him for any signs of serious injuries. 

She had only briefly noticed the slightest quirk of his lips, before she was flipped over onto her back with his wand pressed under her chin, his hips bracketing hers to the floor as he held her down with his weight.

Several emotions passed through her at once. First, the terrified dread dissipated from her system, quickly replaced by molten-hot anger at being so cruelly tricked, which then morphed into something almost akin to admiration for someone actually having gotten the best of her for once.

Strangest of all though, was the budding feeling of something else pulling just below her navel, as she realized just how close they were in this position. His hips pressed flush against hers, his breath ghosting her lips almost imperceptibly. Her entire body warmed.

Ominis held the most self-satisfied smirk she’d ever seen hovering above her, levels of smugness to rival even that of Sebastian’s, as he kept his wand pressed firmly under her chin with one hand and her wrists pinned tightly to the ground in his other.

Finally, she mustered the ability to speak, though her voice regrettably came out a lot more unsteady than intended with the feel of his body on hers making her thoughts hazy. 

“Get—get off me!”

Ominis tsked, shaking his head. “Make me.” He tilted his head and his lips curled at the corners, infuriatingly sly. “Use your wand, go on.”

She struggled against his hand futilely, but quickly realized that even if she was strong enough to free her wrists, she had recklessly abandoned her wand about ten feet away on the floor in her panic. She whined in frustration. 

“Forfeit?”

“No!” She protested, her pride getting the better of her. Though she quickly realized that wandless and pinned underneath a wizard nearly twice her size, she had little leeway in turning around the outcome of this duel.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly as he waited patiently for the little gears in her head to turn and click and realize that she had actually lost.

She had never lost a duel before. 

She expected to feel devastated. To have suffered an agonizing blow to her ego, to feel mortified, something. But instead she could feel nothing but mesmerization as she stared up at Ominis above her, features cool and nonplussed.

He had won. Square is fair.

Finally, she relented and muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I lost. Now get off me.”

He grinned as he finally slipped off her, her cheeks proceeding to heat even more at the brief brush of the front of his trousers against hers. As she sat up from the floor, she noticed with even greater embarrassment that the entire club had stopped what they were doing to gawk at them. 

She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Quickly picking up her wand from where it had been discarded on the floor, she cleared her throat and with as much practiced sportsmanship as she could muster, directed a tight, “Good game.” towards Ominis before promptly departing from the hall. 

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale sounds of footsteps tailing her down the corridor. She glanced back to see Ominis jogging to catch up. 

“Where are you going?”

She sighed. “Ominis, if you plan on rubbing it in my face how much of a better duelist you are, I’m really not in the mood.”

“What? I’m by no means better. Honestly, I don’t even come anywhere close.” He settled into pace beside her, his tone sympathetic and understanding. “I just had…stronger motivations.”

She looked up at him curiously and reluctantly decided to indulge him. She crossed her arms and stilled in her tracks, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Stronger motivations?”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?” He stepped closer to her as he continued, “It doesn’t really matter how powerful you are, only what you’re willing to do to win. Willpower supersedes strength by brute force.”

“How ambitious, spoken like a true Slytherin.” She teased with an eye roll. “Tell me, then, what strong motivations are behind Ominis Gaunt’s willpower?”

His lips curled into something almost predatory, and she had never seen him look the way he did now in the dim light of the secluded hallway. Usually so soft-spoken and unimposing, Ominis looked as if he had just won some grand prize she was unaware of. He crowded her against a woven tapestry adorning the wall and her breath caught in her throat.

A sticky-hot warmth seeped through her as she found herself once again pinned under the compelling presence of the blonde in front of her. Her eyes instinctively flitted to his lips, and for some reason she expected him to kiss her then. 

For some reason she wanted him to. 

Instead, he pulled away, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers. 

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She found she could do little more but mindlessly obey at the moment. 

//

Ominis couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he pulled her along down long corridors, leading her to the secluded stretch of empty classrooms in the northern wing of the castle. 

He had never witnessed the hard-headed little witch so incredibly flustered before. It was a terribly addicting feeling. 

And although he usually prided himself on being so decorous and patient, he couldn’t help but throw all caution to the wind as he strode hastily down the halls in an urgent bid to finally get her alone.

His heart thrummed in his chest at the very thought. 

Clicking open the door to an empty classroom with a wordless alohomora, he dragged her inside and pushed her against the door immediately, body pressed flushed to hers.

He half-expected her to hex his bollocks off at his imprudence, but when she did little more than let out a soft squeak of surprise, he leaned into her even further.

“Where’s your wand?”

His lips were so close, she could barely even think straight.

“In — In my pocket.” 

He smiled in satisfaction at the dazedness in her voice, her breath coming out in short little pants against his lips. He slipped his arm down to feel for her pocket and she gasped when she felt his hand grope at her thigh.

“Good,” He murmured when he felt the familiar wood poking through the pocket of her skirt. “If you’d like me to stop, use it. We both know you have no trouble defending yourself.”

Before she could ask stop what, his lips were capturing hers in a suffocating kiss, her words dying on a gasp. 

Even if she did possess the current mental capacities to slip a hand into her pocket and fling him off her, she had no idea why she would ever want to. He felt heavenly.

He groaned into her mouth when she sank into the kiss, slipping a hand to hold her jaw, pressing himself further against her to keep her pinned and still just where he wanted her.

She had never felt so utterly listless and weak. 

Stripped of all reason, a melting puddle of warm sensations as his tongue met hers and explored her mouth in earnest. Her legs had gone limp the moment he had pressed his lips to hers, and she was more than grateful for the way his hips were currently supporting her against the door.

The kiss was far from anything she would’ve expected from the ever-composed and austere Ominis Gaunt. It was messy and lewd, too starved for any sense of decorum, leaving her spit-sticky and aching until she could barely even recall her own name. 

“Fuck,” He whispered, breathless, as he came up for a brief moment of air. He was seemingly just as wrecked as she was, his voice hoarse. “I’ve wanted to taste this pretty little mouth for so, so—”

The whimper she let out as she instinctively pressed her lips back against his was nothing short of pathetic, but Ominis seemed to have adored it if the twitch she felt against her hips was any indicator.

The way he rutted softly against her as he took her lips in kiss after bruising kiss made her head dizzy. Seemingly brought to his limit, he pulled her away from the door in favor of pinning her against one of the empty desks instead, slotting himself in between her legs. 

She gasped when she felt him then, throbbing and strained against his trousers. 

He huffed an amused breath of a laugh. “Feel that?” He nosed at her jaw, inhaling the intoxicating scent of lavender that made him throb even more in his pants. “That’s what you do to me.” 

Her head fell back when his tongue connected with the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, licking a greedy stripe down her throat as if he wanted to sink his teeth into her. 

He felt like a man starved. He was so tired of being patient, of hopelessly longing for her from a distance.

Actually having her there, in his hands, soft and pliable and mewling his name as he peppered her skin in kisses, licks, and love bites, was enough to almost make him lose all sense of self-restraint.

Hell, it was almost enough to make him finish in his trousers he quickly noticed as he drew his hips back with a hiss. He flipped her onto her stomach on the wooden surface before he got ahead of himself.

She gasped from his assertiveness, at just how out of control he seemed, usually so reserved and cautious. That flicker of desire inside of her roared into tumultuous, consuming flames. 

He slipped a hand into her pocket and grabbed her wand, placing it on the desk right above her head in eyesight. 

“What did I say?”

She panted, thoughts hazy, but tried to construct some semblance of a coherent sentence anyway. “If I — I want you to stop, use it.”

“Mhm,” He hummed in approval before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”

She preened at the praise, arching back into him, feeling him pressed stiffly against her arse, thick and so incredibly stiff through the fabric of his trousers.

She wanted to burn all her pride and beg him to fuck her, touch her, anything to satiate the unbearable yearning inside.

“Needy little witch,” He grunted as he felt her rub herself back against him. He brought a hand to her hips to still her. “Be patient, hm? I’ve been patient for you, haven’t I?” 

She nodded, forehead falling to lay against the desk as she let his hands explore her, groping the soft flesh in his strong fingers. He leaned over her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. 

“So fucking patient.” He murmured as he ran his hands down her sides in admiration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited? How many times I’ve come into my own hand thinking of you bent over for me just like this?” He nipped at her ear, scraping a biting kiss down her jaw until she whined from the sting. His cock ached in his trousers with every little noise she made. 

Unable to bear it any longer, he fisted her skirt in his hands and tugged the fabric over her hips in a single, succinct motion. Her breath hitched in her throat but she made no move for her wand, sitting idly by where her hand was palm down on the surface of the table.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed against her skin, tugging her blouse down one shoulder so his lips could find contact with the sensitive patch of skin there. “So perfect for me.”

His fingers trailed up her thighs and quickly found their way between her legs, rubbing soft, slow swirls over her knickers. The way he had been talking to her, touching her almost reverently, had already left an embarrassingly sticky mess between her thighs.

Ominis groaned as soon as he felt it seeping through the sheer fabric. “I need to be inside of you.” 

He hooked a finger into the hem of her knickers and tugged it down her legs, helping her step out of it before tucking it into his pocket. He pressed against her again and she squirmed from the feeling of the bulk of him against her bare cunt. 

“Look at you. Making such a mess on my trousers.” He ground his hips into her even more as he felt her wetness sully the fabric.

She keened. “Please, Ominis…”

“Please what?” She heard the metal clink of his belt as he began to divest himself behind her and she clenched around nothing in anticipation. 

She tucked her face into her hands, desire sending blood to her cheeks as she finally reduced herself to begging. “Please, please, please fuck me,”

His forehead fell to her shoulder at the sound of her pleading, his grip turning vice-like on her hip. She felt him then, the blunt tip of his cock pressed right against her entrance. 

“This is what you want?”

She nodded fervently, her head fallen lax against the table. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged her up until her back was pressed to his chest not letting her hide from him.

“Say it.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“Please, please, oh Gods, I— I want this, I want this so—”

Her words died on a strangled gasp as he sheathed himself completely inside of her. Her legs went limp, and she would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t snake a hand around her waist to keep her flush to him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“Always knew you’d have the tightest little cunt.” He pressed a kiss against her warm cheek, his breathing heavy against her skin as he hummed in approval at the feeling of her squeezing him. “Alright? Hurts?”

She shook her head, grinding her hips back against his in a show of just how good it felt. 

He huffed a laugh at her eagerness before easing his own hips back and bringing them back to meet hers again. This time, he let her fall forward onto the desk, her nails digging into the wood as she moaned from the intrusion. He felt so big inside of her, stretching her out so deliciously until she felt full to the brim. 

Her hip bones bit into the desk as his thrusts slowly became more forceful, jolting her and pressing into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her toes curl. When her wand clattered to the floor following a particularly hard thrust, her lips parted in awe at the wandless bit of magic he used to bring it to his hand and back into her eyesight.

She had never been more attracted to the wizard currently fucking her senseless.

She couldn’t contain the sounds spilling from her mouth as he fucked into the desk, pathetic and utterly depraved noises that seemed to only spur him on even more. His pace grew punishing, pulling similarly debased noises from the back of his throat as he slid in and out of her. 

“Kiss me. Gods, fucking kiss me.” He groaned, taking her jaw in hand and tilting her chin back so he could capture her lips. She moaned into his mouth and he responded in kind, nipping at her bottom lip until she squeaked. He’d never get enough of these noises.

“Perfect. Fucking. Witch.” He grunted, and his voice was low and rough, a wrecked, gravelly mess as he continued to rut harshly inside of her. “Mine now, aren’t you? All mine. Fuck.”

She nodded fervently, feeling inclined to agree to just about anything coming from his mouth when he was pushing her so close to release, building up that aching knot behind her navel and winding it tighter and tighter.

He could feel her walls fluttering around him, feel just how close to the edge she was. Reaching a hand in front of them to rub tight little circles between her legs, he pressed his lips to her ear. 

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you,? I can feel you tightening around me. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” 

The combined feeling of his hand between her thighs, him thrusting so perfectly inside of her, and the filthy things he was whispering in her ears, was enough to push her over the edge.

She came with a sharp cry, her entire body trembling while he continued to fuck her through her climax, falling over the edge along with her. She felt a warmth coat her insides as he pumped inside of her, his face tucked into her neck while he murmured incoherent praises into her skin.

He kissed all over any exposed patch of skin he could find as he tried to regain some semblance of composure, his chest heaving. He mouthed softly at her jaw as he finally pulled out, and she winced at the slight soreness from the abrasion. His brows knit together. 

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, giggling at his sudden concern. “I’m okay.”

He looked unconvinced as he collected her in his arms. “Do you promise?” 

She smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m fine, I promise. Probably won’t be able to walk properly for a few days, but…”

He chuckled. “Well, that won’t do, I have a date planned for us. Will I have to carry you through the castle in my arms? A bit of a forward way to announce our relationship, but I’ll oblige I suppose…”

He made to wrap her legs around his waist and she bat at his arms. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume we’re in a relationship already, Ominis.” She raised an eyebrow.

He returned the inquisitive look. “I’ve met your terms, haven’t I?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head against his chest. She couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling she felt deep in her stomach, possibly a side-effect of all the post-orgasm endorphins making her head buzz. Nonetheless, she felt inclined to peck his cheek and concede with a smile.

“Yes. I suppose you have.” 

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x mc #friends to lovers #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt fanfiction

[linguisticdiscovery]

Indigenous vs. European perspectives on etymology: pumpkin

There are two theories about the origin of the word pumpkin, which represent two very different perspectives on history:

All major dictionaries say that the most likely origin for pumpkin is the French word pompion ‘melon’ + the English diminutive suffix -kin ‘little’.

The Wampanoag tribe of Massachusetts says that pumpkin comes from its word pôhpukun ‘pumpkin’, but literally meaning ‘it grows forth round’.

The Plymouth settlers borrowed lots of words from the local Wampanoag people, including moccasin, skunk, squash, and the name of the state, Massachusetts. Tisquantum (who history knows as Squanto) taught them a great deal about local plants and wildlife, so it stands to reason they would have also learned the word pumpkin from him, butchering the pronunciation in the process.

But the way they butchered the pronunciation is important. When English speakers heard the word pôhpukun without realizing it was an Algonquian word, they thought it was actually based on English or French. To them, it sounded like pompion with the -kin suffix added to it. The word pompion (or some similar version of it) appears in English documents in North America prior to the settlement of Plymouth, so it’s likely the Pilgrims were familiar with the word (but probably not strongly so, given that the word was only borrowed into English 80 years prior). As a result, they misanalyzed pôhpukun as pumpkin, thinking it was a combination of the French word pompion and the English suffix -kin.

This kind of misanalysis is called a folk etymology. Other examples are cockroach (< Spanish cucaracha) and woodchuck (< Cree otchek). Folk etymologies happen when speakers analyze a word as having different parts than it actually does.

In this particular case, it seems that the folk etymology is the one that made it into the dictionary, rather than the original Native American one.

#pumpkin #etymology #linguistics #language #Indigenous #Native #Native American #Native American Heritage Month #Thanksgiving #lingblr #langblr

[auteurdelabre]

Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk  

word count:  5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week. 

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community. 

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes. 

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover. 

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk. 

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could. 

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects. 

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her. 

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it. 

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach. 

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need. 

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs. 

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop. 

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival. 

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback.  He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen. 

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. 

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library. 

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world. 

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City. 

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said. 

Jane Eyre. 

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know. 

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat. 

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal. 

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully. 

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible. 

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables. 

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you. 

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet. 

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go." 

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus. 

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back. 

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away. 

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you. 

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him. 

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name. 

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots. 

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw. 

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin. 

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer. 

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book. 

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step. 

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead. 

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire. 

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle. 

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed. 

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit. 

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart. 

You close the album. 

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented. 

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning. 

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year.  There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is. 

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely. 

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours." 

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body. 

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face. 

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.  

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly. 

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure. 

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb.  You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop. 

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you. 

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait. 

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths. 

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips. 

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way. 

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper. 

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly. 

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . .  Over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh. 

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders. 

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good. 

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away. 

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor. 

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City. 

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole. 

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you. 

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need. 

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed. 

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste." 

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt. 

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit. 

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth. 

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.  

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfiction #mean!joel #joel miller x f!reader

[staarboyyy]

Negotiations.

soldier boy x reader | no pronouns, afab anatomy

explicit - minors dni

warnings ; dubcon, forced orgasms, slight daddy kink, glove kink if you squint, size kink, southern charm, drug use, wall sex, no pronouns used for reader but afab anatomy is repeatedly mentioned

summary ; upon joining The Boys to take down Homelander with the help of Soldier Boy, you come to realize he's much more of a hard bargain than you anticipated.

word count ; 3.5k

a/n ; kind of an intense first fic , soz LMAO ! thanks to the cozy corner for cheering me on to post some stuff, enjoy :)

Soldier boy's boots were heavy against the sidewalk pavement, his eyes narrowing towards the night sky. His gaze swept over the stars with a low sigh pressed between his teeth. A joint was perched between his lips, smoke fizzling into the air around him, swirling as he walked through the thick cloud. He moved his hands to his face, gently holding the joint, taking a sharp inhale and letting the smoke filter from between his pursed lips. With a slow turn of his head, he turned towards a dark alley, eyebrows furrowing briefly before setting off into the narrow space. He stepped over garbage, passing beggers with a twitch of his jaw; He had his eye on something else. 

Upon making a deal with Butcher and Hughie, he had taken note of how the original team had suddenly - Broken off. Into pieces, stemming and clashing away from each other; Hughie and Butcher, Starlight and M.M., Kimkio and Frenchie - And.. You. Just You. By yourself? Soldier Boy was unsure, his eyes narrowing as he looked down the alley, looking at you with a sense of curiosity. He took slow steps forward, stepping into the puddled pavement with a cock of a brow. 

“All alone, pumpkin?"

The man’s voice was deep, thundering through the alley, taking the air from all the lungs near him. His tone dangled innocent bystanders by the throat, staring them down with a piercing gaze and a glinting smile - A predator. He padded closer before stopping, eyes scraping over your frame with an invasive gaze. He dropped the filter of the smoked joint to the ground, his heavy boot stepping on it with a slow movement forward, cornering you with an expressionless face - He tilted his head slightly back and forth, pulling in a sigh as he confirmed the question himself. He didn’t want to waste time waiting for you to answer. Soldier boy’s gloved hand reached out, grabbing your jaw, holding your cheek with his thumb, pressing down into the soft skin with a clench of his jaw. 

“That’s what I figured.”

His voice lowered to a hardly audible mumble, eyes barreling into yours before quickly moving his arms, grabbing onto your left wrist, twisting it around your back, your cheek now pinned to a brick wall. Soldier boy didn’t even grunt from the effort, unphased entirely by any protests or firing questions you threw from underneath him.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth."

The purred words pressed upon the shell of your ear with an unsettling taste of animosity. The way his large fingers curled over your wrists, pushing them down effortlessly, was nothing out of the ordinary for the man. Subduing others to the position of absolute submission with a gripped fist was something he did every day - Especially now. 

Soldier boy didn't necessarily want to help Butcher with his feeble needs, only agreeing to have his favor of slaughtering his team returned. Though, Butcher and Hughie seemed to press and bend the rules, as if they were more of a suggestion. Whenever a demand for him is made, everyone in the room's attention dives towards him, anticipating his piercing glare; In short, he gets what he wants, especially when he has the leverage of a lifetime. If he wanted the boys dead, they'd be dead. And if he wanted to add you to his deal with Butcher, he'd do it.

"It's just me, darlin'."

While his tone fell quieter, the stomach churning sense of danger never wavered, weaving heinously through the demeaning pet name. He knew you'd recognize his voice, if not the smell of his fogging cologne and aftershave - It was sharp, cold enough to make your senses hitch, stopping in their tracks. 

With a slight press harder into the dark wall, Soldier boy's face twitched, making way for a snide smirk and creased brow. His free hand traveled towards your hair, stringing his rough fingers into the locks, firmly yanking them back with a chuffed exhale.

"A pretty little tease, aren't you?"

He loved the thrill of the hunt, a secret to nobody - And the pressure of his heightening arousal on your lower back was making itself more apparent; He was getting off on your shuddered breaths and gasps, how you relaxed into the foreign touch. It almost made the corners of his lips pull up slightly, twitching a slight smirk before gritting his teeth, shifting his jaw. He could stay positioned like this for hours, and by the looks of it that would be the case. The idea alone was enough to release your throat, hands joining eachother on your chest. His arms flexed, keeping you pinned to his towering frame. A heat of searing desire coursed through the mans veins, heart pounding steadily as he groped you with little regard. His movements were fast, pent up and desperate while also trying to savor the sheer perverseness of the moment - The thrill of the chase. One of his hands rose back towards your mouth, pressing the tip of his middle finger to his lips.

"Bite down."

The man's voice was sharp, cold and almost robotic, though the shuddering breaths and him subconsciously thrusting himself into your quivering body gave it all away. As he waited for you to follow his orders, his other hand continued at your chest, biting down on his lip.

In a swift slam of your teeth against his finger tip, you evened the score boards. 

Soldier boy slid his hands out from the glove with ease, despite your teeth pressing harshly into his flesh. It was like nothing to him. He gave a chuffed exhale, hand wrapping over the discarded glove and tearing it from the your mouth, letting it drop to the ground.

"Bite me again, and I'll knock your fuckin' teeth out."

As he spoke, his bare hand pressed to your stomach, fingertips rubbing over the warm skin with another drawn out groan. Quiet enough to roll out of his throat and chest in a pleased purr as his hand moved lower, lower. Yet right before dipping to push past your waistband, he paused, leaning into the blondes ear with a quiet hum.

"Let's make a deal, sugar."

The nickname was spouted with venom, the small snarky smirk clear in his sharp cold voice - In a way, he made it sound like no matter if you wanted to agree with the odd negotiation, he'd continue anyways.

"If I touch you - and you aren't wet, I'll leave you be,"

Soldier boy began, pride only growing into a smile that'd be pasted on threatening posters so many years ago - A powerful man driven into the pits of depravity.

"But if your pretty pussy needs some attention,"

The cold hand slid down then, tracing over the waistband before sliding his fingertips past the fabric. He bit his bottom lip. In either scenario, maybe he wouldn't have cared if you was wet, yet the idea of feeling the your own body betray your mind was a thrilling one to say the least.

"Well you could've just asked me for some help darlin'."

With those words sharpening the air, Soldier boy's middle and index finger slid over your cunt, lowering to slide between his slick folds with a shuddered breath. The heat alone made his hips stutter forward, desperate for any friction. His thick finger slid over your heat, spreading the arousal messily over the sensitive area, paying careful attention to your stiffening clit.

"See? Sometimes you just don't know what you need,,"

You wanted to fight - To scream even. Yet how his body pinned yours to the cold wall, his invasive touch unwavering as he murmured quietly. It struck you to your core, fear and a strange thrill lighting itself ablaze through your veins.

"I know sugar, I know,"

Soldier boy's tone was sickly thick with a demeaning sweetness, the whispers brushing over your ear. His fingers still continued to grope and explore your, coaxing a pleased hiss from between his gritted teeth. Soldier boy, in truth, could hardly get enough of hearing you snap back barked demands and insults; The strain in your voice, struggling to keep a steady breath as Soldier boy's thick fingers prodded your soaked entrance. It was all falling into place. The mans other hand moved away from your chest, keeping the force of his heavy body pinning you to the wall. His gloved hand dawned his metal belt buckle, thumb rolling over the clasp with a slightly trembling sigh. As he managed to slide the belt away from his body, his middle finger had begun to push slowly into your cunt. A groan reached Soldier boy as he slid inside you, biting his bottom lip and leaning forward into your shoulder. His free hand had gotten busy quite quickly, palm rubbing over his twitching cock with a quiet mutter to himself. He could feel his rushing pulse through his shaft as he wrapped his hand around himself, moving to the same pace of his finger inside you. 

"God damn baby,"

It'd been far too long since he had taken someone like this, years upon years. It really did build a certain type of tension - A tension that pulled and pulled tightly in his stomach, finger flexing inside you with a thrust of his hips, practically fucking his own fist. The feeling of your body responding to him was euphoric, the twitching of your legs and how your thighs pressed together deliciously; In another world, perhaps he would have stopped to force your legs open, taking his fill of the fear driven arousal, but he couldn't wait, let alone be patient. As Soldier boy pressed deeper, up to the second knuckle, his ring finger began to follow suit. The resistance of your heat made his eyes fall shut, lips parted as he growled, imagining just how much he'd have to stretch you open with his cock. 

"That's it baby, just open up for me,"

The encouragement was laced with quiet sharp exhales, hand still rocking against his twitching cock, letting the weight of it rest against your lower back.

"Let's see that pretty face,"

As Soldier boy spoke, he shuddered out a strained exhale, both hands slowing before he moved - Quickly, aggressively and silently demanding you obey him. He was able to turn your body now to face him with little effort, your back now pressed against the damp wall. There was a beat as your eyes met, a clashing mix of staggered breathing and looking over one anothers face. 

Soldier boy had never looked at you. Not really, not in the way he'd looked at Butcher or Hughie, to search for an understanding. He didn't quite feel the need to understand, or interest in the process of such a thing. And yet, as his cold eyes fell upon your features, he felt a strange thundering in his chest; When he leaned in, it was slow. Almost tender as his iron grip on your shoulders loosened, moving to continue his exploration - Or perhaps, understanding, of you. When your lips met, a surge of heat pumped through Soldier boy's veins, cock twitching at the simple action. Despite your struggling, he seemed to bask in the warmth of it - His lips tasted like weed, whiskey with a sharp metallic tang. The kiss wasn't rough, they didn't follow the desperate pattern of his assaulting hands, not even when his fingers had pushed past your waistband once more.

Soldier boy pulled back after a few moments, lips ajar as he kept the fierce eyecontact - He wanted to see it. See it all. The way your brows would crease upon his thick fingers returning to tease you, thumb rolling over your twitching clit with an almost bored expression. Though, Soldier boys heart slammed against his ribs, and he knew you could feel it. His other hand caught your jaw, keeping it firmly in place as his fingers worked back inside of you. 

"Keep your eyes on me sugar."

The words were the quietest they had been, strangely gentle as his teeth sank down onto his bottom lip. He was loving every second of this, pressing his heavy weight into your body and cock pressed between you. 

"Y - You're fucking sick."

Soldier boy's expression creased into a slight smirk, piercing gaze tearing into the others with a shuddered breath. The sound of your anger was music to his ears, your shaking voice and strained attempt to convince Soldier boy. Nothing could stop him now, not with his fingers knuckle deep in your desperate cunt; Your body made obscene noises around his thick fingers, curving upwards and pressing in slow deep thrusts. His fingers reached places that your smaller ones never could, practiced and feverent, arousal and wetness rolling down to his wrist at this point. After a few moments, he pulled his fingers from you, moving them to wrap over his heavy cock with a quiet grunt. The warmth and slick mixed together deliciously around him, rolling his fingers over his tip.

"Sticks and stones, pumpkin."

He breathed, lidded eyes glued to you as he continued to touch himself, other hand now yanking down your pants. Once they fell around your ankles, Soldier boy kicked them away, gritting his teeth impatiently. He didn't just need this, he craved it, in every sense and manner. With a swift move of his body, he hoisted you into his arms, your back still against the wall as Soldier boy held you from under the knees - You were completely exposed to the man, the twitching tip of his cock needily prodding against your soaked entrance.

"Let me hear that pretty voice, huh?"

As he drew his fingers from you, you shuddered, your body quaking with the clashing mix of adrenaline and arousal.

"Just fuck me already."

That was all Soldier boy needed, just the right amount of broken whimpering that caused his hips to stutter forward into your soaked heat. A husked groan followed his sharp gasp as his cock began to push inside you, head tilting back slightly as he leaned into your shoulder. He was thick, the heavy weight of him pressing slowly into the you - He basked in the teasing pace, only half way inside before slowly pulling out. Arousal coated him, glistening in the far off streetlamps, the air between you wet and hot from drinking down oxygen with pure desperation. Soldier boy didn't let his eyes leave yours, sustaining the lazy eyecontact as he gave a twinge of a smirk. Perhaps it was a premonition to his next swift thrust of his hips, bottoming out into you with a strangled moan. His grasp on you tightened, essentially pulling you up and down around his cock at a now ravenous pace. The obscene sounds of your cunt raised goosebumps on Soldier boys neck, lips hanging open as he rolled his hips. It had been far too long since he'd done anything near this - And with that, he leaned in once more, lips grazing your cheekbone with a gritted exhale. 

"All this 'cause of me?"

He gave a punctuating thrust to his question, chuckling between his quiet hums of approval, stilling his assault on you for a few moments. Just being inside you, still and unmoving, could drive him wild. The reactions your body had to this were carnal, a deep rooted craving.

"Butcher - H - He'll kill you for this,"

"Yeah?"

The mutter seeped between his lips, hips coming to a sharp stillness. His expression fell, strands of brown hair hanging over his eyes as he pulled back to catch your gaze. With a tilt of his head, he arched his back slightly, his cock twitching as it shifted inside of you. As it moved, it pressed deliciously against your g-spot, staying bottomed out as he rocked agonizingly slow into the you. It was almost a challenge, a pressing warning as he kept a bored expression despite quickening his rocking hips. He bit down onto his bottom lip, head falling back with a groan. It was louder than before, drawn out and pillowed with the velvet of his voice, nearly erotic despite the nature and fierceness of how he clung to you.

"I think you just need a little rewiring in that ditzy head of yours, sugar."

After a moment, came a fierce thrust, cock pressing against your cervix, the resistance and heat of it causing his teeth to grit. 

"Maybe I can help with that,"

Soldier boy repeated the motion, slow and punctuated, practiced and forceful. As it began to speed up though, another rolling groan filled the hazey air between you, he hiked you up closer to him - He pistoned into your cunt, grunting with the pace of it with a bitten lip. 

Soldier boy's pace was not just relentless, but messy in the most delicious way. How his hips jolted forward, hands tightening on your body as he bottomed out agonizingly slow, eliciting another moan from the man. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of your cunt milking his cock, face buried in your shoulder as he hiked up your legs once again. Your back was no longer against the hard wall. Your body was supported by Soldier boy's large invasive hands - He rocked forward tentatively, making way for a strangled exhale. The new angle was irresistible, the head of his cock tilted upwards, able to get deeper all the while your g-spot was able to feel every inch of him, pushing in and out.

"So fuckin' tight,"

Soldier boy whispered to himself, eyes wrenching shut for a brief few seconds. A wave of searing desire struck down through the mans veins, bundling tightly in his abdomen as his hips began to speed up once again. The obscene sounds of your bodies echoed shamelessly through the alley, Soldier boy's mutters and gritted gasps growing more frequent, brow creasing as he looked over your body. 

"Good, keep your hips - God fuck, yes sugar,*

Soldier boy clenched his jaw, determined to force the orgasm from you. A betrayal of the body beyond belief - Perhaps he'd have to cum inside you. Make a point beyond repair that you'd would never be able to escape him; And that you'd never be fucked like that ever again.

"Look at you, takin' daddy alll the way,"

His sharp eyes flicked towards your cunt, wrapping tightly around his cock like a vice, wetness spread over the both of you now. He took in the sight greedily, watching himself slip in and out feverishly. Soldier boys eyebrows knitted together, lips hanging open as he kept his eyes on the assault, seemingly unable to look away.

Tears tracked from your eyes in small beads, clinging onto the man as he continued the ravenous motion. The pleasure dug harshly at your spinning mind, each deepening thrust to the depths of your cunt had just gotten more electric. It was irresistible, a sparking bundle of flames pressing harshly against your sweat glazed flesh. This feeling overtook your senses entirely. 

But the fire that Soldier boy ignited deep within you grew, roaring as your legs locked tightly around his waist. Your eyes were shut, eyebrows furrowing and hands grasping Soldier boys steady shoulders, your hips gently rocking in time with his quickening thrusts. He needed this, needed to feel you come undone, hear your voice pitch up and break as you feebly attempted to silence your outcries. As your nails dragged over his flesh, the binding chord of heat that seemed to strangle the agonizing pleasure from your spinning mind snapped, sending a crackling wave of euphoria through your veins.

As you came undone around Soldier boy, he gritted his teeth hard, exhaling through them with a sharp moan - This feeling was a familiar one, one that reeled the mans head as he ruthlessly pounded, impossibly faster. He grunted, head dipping down to lean against your forehead; He didn’t want his eyes to open, yet they did, lulling open to meet the yours as he gave a puncating thrust, given with a bite of his lip. As he came, his cock twitched more than before, releasing into your cunt messily as he breathed raggedly. With a swift movement of his head, he crushed your lips together once more, savoring the feeling washing over him.

”There you go,”

He murmured quietly after pulling back, as if to himself, fucking the cum into you with slow rolls of his hips. His grip on your body loosened after a few moments, a sheen of sweat glazing his forehead as he leaned back, letting you slide away from his iron tight grasp. The tip of his cock dripped in slow stringing beads, falling to the cold street; He looked smug, chest swelling and falling with every breath, eyes glued to you. Soldier boy bent at the knee, leaning down towards you for his fingers to glide over your cunt. He shuddered lustfully, sliding over the mix of your arousal and his cum. 

"Deals a deal."

You had hardly even begun.

#bowies fics #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #dubcon #tw dubcon #soldier boy smut #the boys smut

[venus-haze]

Celebrity Skin (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Summary:  Your rollercoaster of a film career comes to its untimely end when you end up on Thomas Hewitt’s cutting room floor. He hopes you’ll be as much of a fan of his work as he is yours.

Note: Female reader, implied to be older than Thomas, but no other descriptors are used. This is mostly from Tommy’s perspective and extremely dark and bleak, so look at the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Explicit and implied non-con, mentions of animal death and cannibalism, kidnapping, Hoyt is pretty much his own warning. Implied major character death. Hurt no comfort. No happy ending. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Hollywood was never going to see you again. No one would, as a matter of fact. That much had been set in stone as soon as you sped through Fuller, Texas. Ghost town. Full of nobodies and hicks. A pass-through on the road trip you’d treated yourself to after landing a movie with Paul Newman. He’d never see you again, either.

Almost as soon as you passed the county line, going 60 in a clearly marked 45, sirens blared behind you, and you cursed as you pulled over. You should’ve never pulled over.

“Got a good one for ya here Tommy,” Hoyt said, slapping the meat of your thigh as he presented you to the hulking man. “Says she’s some kinda actress.” He leaned in close to your face, a mean grin on his own. “Sure good at actin’ like she don’t want it.”

Your lips were split, dried blood and semen on your mouth and face. Could barely manage a snarl at his uncle, but you tried. 

“Bet you’re gonna taste real sweet, pumpkin,” Hoyt taunted, smacking his lips before pushing you to Thomas.

You didn’t cry or scream as Thomas dragged you down to the basement. Hoyt beat that out of you already. Mean and vicious on the side of the road, or maybe in the back of his squad car. Didn’t matter. You were all but resigned to your fate until Thomas laid you down on his butcher’s block, securing you to it with the usual metal cuffs, deftly hammered in place. You only began struggling when you caught a glimpse of the knives and blades displayed prominently throughout his workshop. Too late.

Thomas paused, staring at your face, screwed up in pathetic agony as you begged him for mercy you wouldn't receive. Recognized it from somewhere. You had looked different, though. Face made-up, eyes glistening, hair perfectly styled. Like a dream. 

He leaned in closer, and you blinked, teary-eyes transporting him back to his youth. Unforgiving summer breaks where he’d wake up early to help out on the farm before the heat of the day settled in. Sometimes his mama would scrounge up some change for him to go to Fuller’s lone movie theater in the afternoon. ‘Get a break from this heat, honey.’ She knew full well that wasn’t what drew him there. The darkness, the anonymity, for once everyone else was faceless and hidden like him. He wasn’t the main attraction, not even the sideshow.

It’d been years since he stepped foot in that theater. Slowly stopped going after Hoyt got him the job at the slaughterhouse. Just like that, though, he remembered you. A film noir wherein you were cast as the leading lady to a man who may as well have been old enough to be your father, but you looked like you loved him. Especially when you cried for him, tears sparkling as they silently, regally rolled down your pretty face one by one. 

Over time, femme fatales fell out of fashion, and so had you not long after he’d stopped going to the movies. He’d catch glimpses of you, though. Staring at him from the cover of magazines like a star-crossed lover whenever you had a new movie coming out, less frequent as time went on. He was barely sixteen when he swiped a copy of Modern Screen, your enticing, full-color portrait on the cover, chock-full of interviews, gossip, and most importantly, photos. A ball gown and come-hither stare. Lounging half-naked poolside. In a skimpy black dress with a fox fur piece draped around your neck, cigarette holder between your pretty lips as you leaned over a bar, your cleavage nearly spilling out from your dress. 

That one had made him feel funny. Made his pants tighter around the crotch as his imagination ran wild. Thought about presenting you with a cat pelt he’d skinned and sewn up himself. Instead of running and screaming in fear like the girls at school, you’d accept it graciously, wearing it like the fine fox fur. A gentle hand on his chest, simpering eyes as you asked softly how you could ever repay him because he was your leading man. A kiss on his cheek, and then more. So much more.

Back then, he never considered how pretty you’d look when you cried for him. Grabbing a nearby pair of rusty scissors, he cut through your clothes, damp from sweat and spit and god knew what else, stuck to your skin. He peeled them off of you, unwrapping his once in a lifetime gift and wasting no time in touching your bare stomach that seized beneath his touch. His hands drifted upward, taking each of your soft breasts in his big hands, rough and calloused from years of hard labor. He brushed his thumbs against your nipples, raised from exposure to the cool air in his basement hovel. Pinching one between his fingers, he tugged on it, eliciting a whimper from you as the skin painfully stretched to its limit until he finally let go.

Frustrated by your barrage of pleas and protests, he grabbed a nearby rag and shoved it in your mouth. You gagged, senses overwhelmed by the taste of rancid blood and unidentifiable bodily fluids. He pressed his fingers against your abused cunt, marveling in the wetness as you whined like a stupid little deer that’d gotten its leg blown off during the hunt, strained bleating to be put out of its misery with a bullet to the head or a snap of its neck. 

He growled, pressing his masked lips to yours, the friction from the leather re-opening the cuts that had split along your lips. You choked on your makeshift gag, tears streaming down your dirty face. He was almost dizzy. Or maybe he was in love–sweaty palms, racing hearts, an animalistic urge to possess, to mark, to maim. 

Hoyt was the one who eventually caught him with the magazine. Being a bit too loud, he supposed. Instead of the tongue lashing he’d been expecting, he received a proud pat on the back instead, ‘Nothin’ to be ashamed of Tommy. You’re a man. ‘s natural after all,' Hoyt said. 'Try to keep it quiet ‘round mama, though. She still thinks you’re innocent.’

Innocent. Despite how much his mama tried, he hadn’t been innocent in a long time. You hadn’t been either. Your romantic trysts were in headlines or discussed on radio gossip programs. Those had been frequent, and his brow furrowed as he wondered who the hell you were to deny him. Hollywood floozy. Too good for him, just like every other woman.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his length from his pants and feeling himself growing harder at your muffled screams of protest. His size. He knew he was big, far too big for you to handle, but you’d make it work. As if you had any other choice. 

Stroking his length with one hand, he scratched at your belly with his blunt nails on the other hand, shuddering at the fleeting thought of you bigger, pregnant with his child. With a ragged breath, Thomas positioned his cock in front of your aching cunt, reveling in your whines as he pushed in just the tip, feeling you strain around him, warm and soft. ‘I love you, Tommy,’ you had purred in his fantasies. ‘I want you to make me yours. Give me everything.’

He grunted as he buried his length deeper in you, a high-pitched squeal in return. His face felt hot beneath his mask, his cock twitching as your pussy clenched around him. You wanted it. You wouldn’t be so wet and pliant if you didn’t. Grabbing your hips, he slammed his hips against yours, burying his face in your neck, feeling how your throat strained to express your pain despite the gag. How easily he could grab a nearby knife and cut through the tender flesh, knowing just where to slice so he could watch your blood pour out of you, probably sparkling and pretty like your tears. It was perfect, you were perfect. Better than he’d ever imagined.

Pressing his body weight against you, he pinned you further, your twisting torso trapped in place beneath him as he relentlessly pounded into you, his huge cock pushing your cunt to its limits, and even further than that when he hit your cervix. Your tears poured down your cheeks, blood trickling between your legs. He was so close, he could almost reach out and touch it.

He wanted to keep you around. Wasn’t sure how he could make an appeal to mama or Hoyt, though. Probably useless around the house, let alone the farm, just a pretty face for his own amusement. ‘Another mouth to feed,’ he could practically hear Hoyt snarl. He still felt bad about Uncle Monty, now he was a burden on mama and Hoyt too. Making an exception for you would be far too much to ask. Besides, he never had luck keeping pets growing up. Was always too rough with them, too morbidly curious. Maybe it’d be different with you. 

Glancing at the chainsaw beside him, he slammed into you again, his dark gaze fixed on the blood-rusted power tool.

No. It wouldn’t be. Because being this deep inside you made him only want to go deeper, see the extent of his love. Watch your heart beating in your chest for him. Stand over you as you bled out, rib cage cracked open in the ultimate display of vulnerability. You’d provide for his family, and he’d savor every moment, every bite that touched his lips, feeling you inside him. It was the only way. You’d be a part of him forever. Till death do you part.

He came with a loud groan, a primal howl muffled by his mask. Your abused pussy milked his cock until his seed spilled inside you, and his length became soft again. Laying his head on your heaving chest, he listened to your heartbeat. Rapid like a little mouse. 

Nuzzling his face against your breasts, he settled against your warm skin, basking in it while he still could. You’d be even warmer once he opened you up. All too familiar with that sensation. He closed his eyes, though, imagining you lovingly running your fingers through his hair, a sweet, fucked out smile on your face. But there was no place for a man like him in Hollywood, and no place for a woman like you in Fuller. Star-crossed. What a shame.

You had stopped making noises through your gag, either too exhausted or simply resigned to your fate, only whimpering when he finally pulled out of you, your pussy feeling almost painfully empty. Eyes glazed over, they fluttered shut for a moment, but opened as soon as his hand caressed your cheek, pulling the rag from your mouth. 

He watched silently as you sucked in a much needed breath, bringing on a coughing fit with how dry your throat was. You dissolved in a fit of sobs that echoed in this vast underbelly of terror, exacerbated by his attempt to kiss your forehead, pressing the leather against the deep lines in your distressed face. You struggled weakly, fruitlessly against the metal cuffs that secured you to the table.

Unlike in your movies, there was no one to save you this time, no gruff private eye or surly police chief to come in guns blazing at the last minute. Hoyt had already made you well aware he was no admirable man of the law. You were lucky to have ended up with Thomas. He thought the screams that came from the women Hoyt kept around–albeit temporarily–were more difficult to listen to than that of someone he was disembodying. 

Sadistic. Thomas never considered himself such, but he understood the appeal of ravaging, tearing apart in a display of power that never failed to send adrenaline running through his veins. He would savor your demise, his magnum opus, unable to imagine someone else coming along and piquing his interest as much as you had.

He revved the chainsaw, taking in your raw screams as he raised it over his head. Lamented not having a camera around to capture how perfect you looked awaiting your end at his hands. It’s what you were made for. His movie star on the cutting room floor.

#thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fandom #slasher community #tcm

[deathbydyingpod]

The town square has been flooded with apple cider. The Butcher is carving pumpkins instead of meat. The trick-or-treaters are eating candy, and the man-eating cats are eating the trick-or-treaters. Oh yes, the Halloween festivities are in full swing in Crestfall.

#halloween #i’m finally alive #death by dying #death by dying podcast #october #autumn

[slasherhoe87]

🥧Slashers' Favourite Dish their S/0 Makes for Them🍲

Short and sweet. Just a little idea that popped into my head while watching Masterchef Australia

Feat. Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (OG / Peepaw / RZ), The Sinclairs, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Harry Warden, Thomas Hewitt

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

English Sunday Roast: pork roast with crackling, peas, yorkshire puddings, golden roast potatoes, roasted carrots, green beans and a boatload of brown gravy

Dessert? sticky toffee pudding

JASON VOORHEES

Cheesy Tuna Noodle Casserole - his mom made this dish for him all the time and he loved it

Dessert? lemon bars - another favourite of his that bring up the precious few good memories he has of his childhood

MICHAEL MYERS (OG)

Ground Beef Lasagna with extra white sauce

Dessert? pumpkin pie with a big dollop of vanilla cream

PEEPAW MYERS

Meatloaf with a side of creamy garlic mashed potatoes and roasted mix veg (its all easy on the teeth 😁😂)

Dessert? strawberry & rhubarb pie

RZ MICHAEL MYERS

Full Thanksgiving Dinner: roast turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, dinner rolls, mix veg and lots of brown gravy and cranberry sauce (he remembers his mom when you make this and is flooded with good memories of her and him together)

Dessert? pecan pie

BO SINCLAIR

T-Bone Steak with a Loaded Baked Potato and Corn on the Cob as a side

Dessert? banana split

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Rump Steak with a Mixed Mushroom Sauce and a side of Sweet Potato Fries

Dessert? dark chocolate brownie with a scoop of mint ice cream

LESTER SINCLAIR

One-Pot Smoky Beans and Roadkill Meatball Stew

Dessert? ice cream sundae

BILLLY LOOMIS

Spaghetti Bolognaise with lots of Red Sauce

Dessert? chocolate lava cake - he likes watching the chocolate sauce spill out of from its middle

STU MACHER

Pepperoni Pizza

Dessert? birthday cake flavoured ice cream in a sugared cone with tons of sprinkles on top

HARRY WARDEN

Fillet Steak with a Red Wine Sauce, Garlic Parsnip Mash and Roasted Green Asparagus as a side

Dessert? black forest cake

THOMAS HEWITT

Chili Con Carne - likes it with ground beef you purchased from the butcher or with more... questionable ground "beef" - as long as you make it, he loves it

Dessert? peach cobbler

#brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #jason voorhees #michael myers #og michael myers #peepaw michael myers #rz michael myers #stu macher #billy loomis #ghostface #harry warden #thomas hewitt #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #slasher headcanons #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community