Apathetic-Misplaced

Apathetic-Misplaced

Rounding the corner, you treaded further into the kitchen, urging not to wake your mother. It was hard enough to get her to sleep, let alone keep her like that. Your toe stubbed slightly against the bottom of the kitchen counter as you reached for the cabinet with the mugs.

Oddly, as you searched for your favorite one, it seemed to be gone. Having been sure you put it up with the load of dishes you'd done yesterday, you checked once again, not doubting yourself to have missed it in the dim light the early winter mornings would provide. 

Looking back down, annoyed, you saw it. Resting a foot away, sat next to the sugar and spoon, was the mug, a teabag already placed inside. This week had been stressful, you chopped the appearance simply to a simply forgotten task. 

You smiled to yourself, taking the cup in your hand and heading to the stovetop. Placing the kettle on the heating burner, you waited patiently on your phone, scrolling, disinterested in what your friends had done over the weekend. 

Your heart clenched at a certain sight; it was a picture of Nina, a girl you thought would live forever. Alas, she's gone now. Not necessarily dead but missing. So, no matter how you look at it, she's gone. 

All you truly craved was closure. 

Resting your phone face down, you hopped up as the kettle began to scream. Pulling it from the burner, you placed it on a different one, waiting a still moment before beginning to pour the boiling water into the mug. 

After you did, you slowly sipped on the scalding liquid, tossing your head back as you mentally psyched yourself up to get through the day. It wouldn't be too bad, working at a little gas station, if you weren't fifteen miles from the musty place. 

You walked slowly to your bedroom, socks scuffling against the kitchen's hardwood floor. You slipped off the flimsy night shirt you'd been wearing changing into a new bra and shirt. Not much of a shirt, really, more like a big sweater. It was (f/c) and knit tightly. Black leggings to match, you supposed.

It was winter. You were behind a counter most of your day. Who cares what you wore? 

Going back into the kitchen, deciding you'd eat before work, meaning you didn't have to come out from behind the counter and be ogled at by creeps without morals. Yeah, it was better to eat at home.

Gliding on your shoes, you tied the laces up neatly. As you headed back into the kitchen, another odd sight struck you. The sugar had been returned to its spot; the spoon was in the sink. Knitting your eyebrows together, you figured, once again, that it was just a subconscious act of yours. 

I do this every morning, so it's routine of me to put it away, you told yourself. But as the morning's occurrences replayed, your mind went, instead, to worst-case scenarios. Once again, rationality got the better of you, and your mind decided you had forgotten; done it without a second thought. 

But you didn't remember the part where you forced yourself to keep quiet for your mother's sake. 

It was early, too early, to be awake for work. I mean, you worked nights. But groceries were a necessity, and starving wasn't on your mind lately. Not yet. Grabbing your wallet and phone, you were on your way out the door. 

Clambering into the cold car, you turned on the heat, but without time to waste, you drove off. You played a few songs on your way, preferring the familiar music to the silence. As you pulled up to the Walmart, you climbed out again. 

Opening the notes app on your phone, you checked the list again, unsure of what you needed. "Milk, eggs, butter, toilet paper, shampoo." you read. Nodding to yourself, you walked inside, grabbing a rattling cart from the hoard. First, you made your way to the dairy, grabbing the milk, eggs, and butter, and placing them in the bottom of the rattly cart.

Next, you walked to the aisles with all the hygiene products. Grabbing your usual brand of shampoo and toilet paper, you made your way to the checkout. At the register, you grabbed a pack of gum. Minute but nice. 

The man in front of you quickly had his minimal number of items scanned, but he didn't tread too far, visibly distracted by something on his yellow hoodie. He was tall, with disheveled light brown hair, and pale. very pale; he looked sickly. As the cashier scanned your items, the dead look on her face not softened, she read your total. "Fifteen-eighty-two," she mumbled. Opening your wallet, you searched in fear for your card.

As your mind began to whirl and sway, a voice spoke up. You only had so much cash on you; not enough to pay the due, however. Your shaky hand brought her the ten dollars you had in cash, but she continued staring at you, waiting. "I'll cover it," the man offered. "Oh, no. You don't have to-" you assured, quickly being cut off as he handed the cashier the exact change. 

"Thank you so much, sir," you thanked. "It's human kindness," he joked. "Still, thank you." you sighed, thankful. "Keep yourself safe," he said, walking away, off into the crowd of people, many shorter than him. He headed in the opposite direction that you were going, much to your disappointment.

It would have been nice to know his name, you thought. Dawdling around the flooded store, you glanced around, bored. You thought about how pale he was. Tired of ogling at items you'll never buy, or afford, you left.

You smiled to yourself at the sweet interaction, not having experienced a true act of human decency in so long. Living away from everyone in the countryside could do that to someone - make you a recluse-, but you didn't really mind. 

Striding back to your car, you placed your bags of groceries, finding yourself questionably searching for the man, even without realizing it. Turning over the ignition in the car, you drove off, pulling onto the foggy road. As the road cleared, leaving you nearly alone, aside from the few cabins and cars, you noticed one thing in particular: a beat-up, blue pickup truck behind you.

Its paint chipped, revealing the rusty color beneath the facade of color. The headlights were still on, which was fair, considering the fact it was dark, still. That's winter, you thought. Heart in your throat, you sped up, only to notice how their speed was in sync with yours; they sped as you did, and slowed as you did.

As you pulled into your driveway, breaths of relief flooded out of your lungs, watching as the truck drove on, the driver you didn't see. Silently entering the home, you brought in the bags, smiling still at the man's kindness. 

After you unpacked the groceries, you went to check on your mother once again. She was fine. Now, sleep was in your mind. Falling, exhausted, into your bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, falling asleep. 

As your eyes flickered open, the smell of coffee greeted you. Smiling to yourself, you made your quiet way to the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Hi, Mom," you greeted. "Hey, hon," she replied, not meeting your eyes as she washed the dishes from this morning. "Hey, (y/n)?" she said again. You hummed lowly.

"Try not to use so many dishes when you make your tea, okay?" she muttered. "I only used one this morning." you denied. "Well, there are two cups in the sink, and it doesn't make sense." she replied. "Maybe you just forgot; I know you're stressed lately," she whispered. "I guess," you agreed.

"Well, it's almost time for you to get ready, and I made some coffee for you," she said. "I know," you sighed.

Sluggishly walking back to your room, you slipped on a white shirt, staying in the same undergarments as this morning, feeling it dumb to change. With a black zip-up hoodie over leggings, simple shoes, and your (h/c) (h/l) brushed. 

No makeup needed. 

You grabbed the thermos that'd been set on the counter and poured your coffee into it, adding the milk and sugar. This time, you put the sugar and spoon away. Fiddling with the lid, you finally fit it tight to the bottle, sighing deeply as you left. But not before telling your mother you loved her.

Phone, keys, thermos, wallet. That's all you needed. As you arrived, you pulled up, checking your wallet for a hair tie. Oddly, and to your horror, your card was in its usual spot. Heart in your throat, you took a hair tie out, assuming your coworker would ask for one before she went on her delivery trips. 

You were right. 

"Hey, do you have a hair tie?" she asked, pulling her ginger hair into a hold with her hand. Wordlessly, you handed it to her, walking behind the counter after tying your apron on. You leaned against the counter, waiting, as a man walked in. His hair was a deep, rich brown, falling above his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they glanced at you, brown and tired. Bags were under them, falling into a sullen frown as you looked his face over. 

He smiled quickly, turning away as he walked the aisles of the gas station, silent, almost. He made no sound when he walked, and you wondered how such a tall, built man could be so utterly stealthy. He opened a freezer in the back, pulling out a drink. You couldn't quite see what it was until he stepped into another aisle; the aisle with chips. 

A bag rustled and he walked back to you. Placing the items on the counter, you realized that it was alcohol and some plain potato chips. "ID?" you requested. He handed you a small, plastic card. Taking it in your hand, you examined it. "What's your birthday?" you asked.

Looking closer at the ID, you realized that his name was Timothy, but his last name you didn't see, not before he answered, making you gaze back at him. He answered, holding his hand out expectantly. You handed him his ID and scanned his items. "Have a nice day, sir," you said, smiling as he walked off wordlessly. 

The bell rang as he left. 

Another hour or so passed by, and only a handful of interactions, left you alone with your thoughts, the buzzing of the lights, and the low, humming music from the store. You walked to the back of the store, grabbing a drink, water. 

Putting the money in the register, you began to drink slowly, nearly gagging and spitting up the water as a figure towered over you. "Hi, I'm sorry. You scared the life out of me!" you joked, coughing. "Oh, I'm s-sorry," they apologized. Noticeably, they had a stutter. 

"It's fine; you're just really quiet," you laughed again, trying to keep the mood light, despite his depressing, sorry tone. You coughed again, finally looking up at him. He had soft brown hair, covering his eyes slightly. Eyes a soft, shimmery green, though still with a sharpness. Alert.

A mask covered most of his face, obscuring your view. He was thin, you could tell, despite the large beige, brown, white, and blue hoodie he wore. "Is there anything I can do for you?" perking up, he looked at you. Without words, he walked to the back of the store. Grabbing a chocolate milk, he placed it on the counter, hands clad in what you assumed to be leather. "That all?" you checked.

He nodded wordlessly, mask shifting, as if he were chewing on his cheek. Ringing him up, "A dollar and eighty-nine cents, please," you requested.

He fished out some money and planted it on the counter, and you gave him the milk. "Thank you, have a nice day!" You chirped.

He walked out with a "you, too" and nothing else; not even a thumbs up.

--

Hours passed with nothing more than interactions and nearly slamming your head into the counter as you accidentally drifted off.

Now, it was time to go home. You waited for your coworker, and left when she got there. "Bye," she shouted. Waving, you left.

-- Once you arrived home, the rooms silent, you walked to the kitchen. There was a steaming mug of coffee, a sticky note placed on its side. "Just how you like it!" With a smiling face at the end. You smirked at the gesture, taking a small sip. And, indeed, it was just how you liked it.

Honestly, you hadn't even figured that your mother paid attention while you were around her. Heading back to your room, you found that your laundry was already folded on the bed.

"That's sweet, " you thought. Hanging your clothes and putting them into the drawers, you noticed another note. "This week will be full of surprises!" It read, the same handwriting as the note on the mug.

You put the clothes away correctly, lying disc on the clear bed. Before you feel asleep, you decided a shower was needed. As you entered the bathroom, you peeled off your clothes, strong into the scalding water.

It felt good against your cold skin, though. As you reached for your soap, you realized it was small and used up. Soon, you'd have to buy more. After washing your hair and body, you clambered out, wrapping a towel around yourself.

Falling back into your bed, you didn't bother to change. It's not like you had anywhere to be; not for a while, anyway. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you fell asleep.

--

A knock at your door awoke you, making your eyes spring open and your body jolt up. "Mom?" You questioned. No answer. "Mom?" You repeated, louder than before.

Opening the door, still in your towel, your heart dropped, but your grip on the cloth didn't. Thankfully. There stood a tall man, at least six foot, dressed in a mustard colored hoodie, denim pants, and steel-toe boots.

But the worst part, you were sure, was what state down. Where his face should be, instead, a black mask with two circles. Eyes. And one upside down U. A frown.

Your words caught in your throat as you tried to choke something, anything, out. His breath was muffled against the mask, and would have been falling on top of your head if not for the cloth.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up, still so scared. "What do you want?" You choked out. Without speaking, he shoved past you, walking to the corner of your room.

He simply snatched your little collection of sticky notes, holding them up to you. Pointing at the second one you'd received, the one about the surprising week, and tapped it lightly, mask shifting slightly.

You assumed he was smiling.

My Hoodie/Brian Thomas ABC's

A: Affection (Are they affectionate? How do they show affection?)

Apathetic. He can show proper emotions, he just doesn't really like to. Living as a Proxy, you get used to changing yourself. However, if he decides to be affectionate, it'll be simple. He might just hold you and tell you he loves you while you watch a movie or enjoy each other's company.

B: Beauty (What does he find most beautiful about you? What about himself? What about in general?)

On you, his personal favorite is your smile. He enjoys seeing you smile, knowing that you're happy makes him happy. On himself, it's his eyes. They're deep and can be used to intimidate and get his way. In general, it's nature. He enjoys seeing leaves fall and raindrops roll down windows.

C: Courtesy (How kind is he? Is he kinder or the same around others? How does he show it?)

He is a very polite and respectful man. Often, he shows this, not caring where or why. He acts the same around others. If anything, he's more polite around your friends and family, but he's a much more apathetic person toward his coworkers.

D: Dreams (What does he wish to accomplish? What is his dream life? What does he want for his future?)

He wishes to escape the life of a proxy, despite knowing he's unable to do so. His dream life is just to be free and with you. He wants to have kids, but likely won't act on it, mainly because he doesn't want them targeted and born into the life he'll give them with his line of work. 

E: Equal (Are you equal, or is one more dominant in the decision-making rather than the other?)

Brian makes a lot of decisions but makes sure you're up for it. He often takes the initiative to do things but won't put them into action without your comfort. Despite being a manic murderer, he does care about what you want and your comfort. You are equal. He won't do something without your permission.

F: Fights (Do you argue often? What triggers fights? How easily does he forgive you?)

He doesn't like to argue, and you don't argue often; mainly because he's always right. He won't open his mouth if he knows he's wrong, already having devised his answers and predicted yours. The only thing that triggers fights is if you falsely accuse him, poke him too much after a bad day, or push him too far after warnings. And even then, he still finds a way to make it a joke. He forgives relatively easily, knowing it was an accident, and finds himself being unreasonable with his anger. 

G: Gratitude (How grateful are they for you? What else are they grateful for? Do they show their appreciation?)

He appreciates you very much, often showing his appreciation by s̶t̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ buying you something nice. You saw a ring you liked once? Yours. Nice dress? Yours. Cool phone case? Yours. He's very grateful for his stealth; getting you things and sneaking around is much easier. They show their appreciation but will deny it if you say anything.

H: Honesty (How honest are they? How much do they keep hidden from you? Do they have a good reason?)

He is a very honest person, despite being a serial killer. Often, he won't hide things from you unless it's for your safety. Brian likes to tell you things, but when he comes home and you ask where he was, he'll say "Work" and you understand. They don't keep things hidden. They have a good reason if they do and won't go out of their way to tell you about their past. 

I: Inspiration (Did you change them? For the better or worse? Or not at all?)

You did! For the better, too! He was a recluse, only ever leaving his home for groceries or missions, but you got the better of him. He now enjoys taking long walks, visiting parks and will go out of his way to see things about nature. 

J: Jealousy (How easily do they get jealous? Are they aware they're jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous often. And if he does, then he calms himself down, reminding himself of his ridiculous thinking. He is very self-aware of his irrational thinking, knowing damn well you're his. 

K: Kissing (Is he a good kisser?)

Yes. I will not elaborate.

L: Love confession (How did he confess?)

Putting a blindfold on you, driving you to a special spot, giving you flowers, and telling you how he feels. He's a simple man. Kidnapping and takes you to a second location bc he's such a gentleman.

M: Marriage (Does he want to get married? How would they propose? What would the marriage be like?) 

He does want marriage but is scared you'll be targeted if you have too much contact with him. Would propose by taking you out somewhere nice, then a walk in the woods, leading you to a certain clearing or beautiful spot, getting on one knee, telling you how much he loves you and why you're the light in his life, his rock, if you will, (lmao, marble hornets ref), and will ask you to marry him. 

The marriage would consist of you understanding his work, being loved unconditionally, and being happy as you can, considering the fact that you're married to a serial killer who works for some otherworldly dark entity. <3

N: Nicknames (What do they call you? Why? Do they like nicknames?)

They would call you sweet things: honey, sweetheart, darling, dear, etc. He personally doesn't like nicknames, because it reminds him of the fact he gets called a nickname by his coworkers. But they do like calling you nicknames.

O: On cloud nine (How do they act when they're in love? What gets them to cloud nine?)

He's very caring; he likes to do things for you and appreciates you much more obviously. He likes to show his love. Getting them to cloud nine consists of just being obedient; treating him like he's royalty; and showing him he's loved and appreciated.

P: PDA (How comfortable are they with PDA? Do they like it? How do they show it?)

He enjoys PDA around real friends, not coworkers. Like E.J or Tim/Masky. It might be as simple as a hand snaked around your waist or interlocked fingers, but that's enough. Potentially even a hand in your back pocket, or a finger through your belt loop. He is only okay around friends and your family. 

Q: Quirk (What are some fun things that come with dating him? What's a random, helpful ability in the relationship?)

Something fun is knowing that his boss or coworkers might murder you! Very aesthetic, I know. He is very skilled at being mysterious, making all his gifts surprising. 

R: Romance (How romantic are they? Cliche or creative?)

He isn't very romantic but will do simple dates and gifts. He's pretty generic unless it's a very special occasion. 

S: Support (How supportive are they? Do they need a lot of support? Are they good at showing it? How do they show it?)

He is supportive of most things but will leave you to figure out some things by yourself if he thinks you need to really understand. (He is the definition of the 'give a man a place and you feed him for a day' quote. I swear he is) He'll be as supportive as he senses he needs to be. He's very awkward when it comes to support, but he tries. He'll help you through it and stay with you as long as necessary. 

T: Thrill (Is he a thrill seeker? Does he like to try things out?) 

He isn't too much of a thrill seeker, because he's often tired or craving to relax due to his job. He won't go out of his way to do new things but isn't against it if it's something you bring up. 

U: Understanding (Are they understanding? How well do they know you?)

Has a scary knack for remembering miscellaneous things about you. He often understands what you need and why, seeing as he was trained, whether aware or not, how to read people. He makes sure not to invalidate your feelings.

V: Value (How valuable is this relationship to him? How important are you to him?)

Your relationship is the most important thing in his life. He would kill whoever hurt you or die trying. You are like a God to him. He loves you with every part of him and would die if he needed to for you. 

W: Wildcard (A random headcanon)

I think he would cry into your chest or stomach when he's had a stressful day. Or he would come and lie on your ass like a pillow if you're on your stomach. Would most definitely bend every which way to see what's on your phone/laptop/tablet.

X: Xoxo (What's their favorite type of affection to give? What about receiving?)

His favorite type to give is kisses; his favorite type to receive is hugs around his neck. 

Y: Yearning (Does he miss you a lot when you're gone? How does he cope?)

He misses you greatly but understands that you are your person with your own life. He'll think about you, lie on your bed, look at photos, or just lie with your clothes. 

Z: Zeal (Will he go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, how?)

He will kill or die for you. His life has no meaning without you, and it's better off not living if you aren't there to enjoy life with him. Anything you ask is done. 

(THAT'S ALL; NOT PROOFREAD; I'M SORRY IT'S BAD)

Homicidal Liu

"Get out." He snapped. "What?" I whispered. "Get out, you fucking whore!" He screamed. "No! We do this every fucking day, so I need you to listen!" I protested.

He picked up his knife, slinging it at me from across the room. It missed barely; a warning. "Fuck you, Jeffery!" I yelled, storming out of the room.

--

After three hours of waiting, I saw a figure approaching the mansion. "Finally," I teased. My eyes were still red from the tears and my face was wet. "Jeff?" He questioned, taking a seat next to me on the ground. Without my answer, he put his an around me.

"Liu, he told me he fucked Nina last night," I admitted. "He did what?" Liu snapped. "No, don't. It's okay, " I assured. "Did he cut you?" He inquired. "He tried."

I looked up at him; his breath fell softly against my face. Slowly, I moved up, pressing my lips softly on his. They were chapped and cracked but felt so nice. "Will you help get back at him with me?" I teased.

"If that means what I think it means, then yes." He joked. I pecked him again, grabbing his hand to guide him as I walked inside the mansion. Once we reached the room, I pushed him into the bed, not bothering to lock the door.

I wanted to get caught.

I smashed my lips against his greedily, eager for the feeling of his warmth on mine. Straddling his chest, I gripped his shoulders, exploring his mouth with my tongue.

He grabbed my waist, flipping us over so he was on top. "Didn't mean to mislead you, but I'm the top here, darling," he chuckled. His lips met the skin of my neck, bruising it deeply as he sucked and kissed.

I tangled my fingers in his brunette hair, squeezing slightly as he found a very nice spot. "That's just what I was looking for," he taunted. He abused the sweet spot, making me clamp my fingers.

As he treaded lower with the kisses, he reached the waistband of my shorts. He pulled the fabric down with his teeth, leaving me in a big hoodie and underwear. His fingers slipped my underwear to the side.

I shivered at the coldness of his touch, earning a silent laugh. "Are you sure?" He asked. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead-" My sentence was cut short by his thumb rubbing my clit. "Mm," I moaned.

He continued rubbing my clit as his other hand's fingers slowly slid into me. I moaned, arching my back as he abused my spots. I soon came, releasing onto his fingers. He lifted his sticky fingers up, spreading them to watch the cum stretch.

His fingers went to his mouth, and he licked them clean, smearing the spit on my thighs. "You're a very good girl, you know that, right?" He asked. "Mhm, yeah," I whispered.

As he unbuckled his jeans, pulling them down, he revealed his size. My eyes widened, and Liu took notice. "An I bigger than him?" He teased. I nodded. Sliding his shirt over his head, he tossed it and his scarf onto the floor carelessly.

Placing his reddened, leaking tip at my entrance, his hands trailed up my torso, resting on my breast, while the other wrapped gently around my neck. "Are you ready to take my cock, honey?" He squeezed my thigh reassuringly.

"Yes, sir," I answered. Slowly, he pushed in, making me moan and arch my back. His fingers intertwined with mine, and he allowed me to adjust before he began to slowly pump.

"Fuck, Liu-" I choked, clawing at his torso. "What? Am I hurting you?" He asked, brows knitted. "Oh, God, no. It feels so fucking good-" I cried. He sighed, thrusting faster.

His cock hit my G-spot and I nearly screamed. His fingers were cold and rough, but touched so softly against my skin, rubbing circles into my hips as I cried out his name. "Liu!" I screamed.

"I'm close-" I whimpered. "Cum for me, honey," he smiled. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled him down to me, smashing my lips against his, moaning into the kiss.

He lifted himself back up, tossing his head back, brunette hair sticking to his face. Drool fell from my mouth, coating my cheek. Liu's eyes met mine again, and he smiled stupidly. "You're so fucking sexy under me; fucking hell." He moaned.

I cried out loudly as my orgasm washed over me. "Oh, fuck, I love you so much, Liu!" I yelled, shaking beneath him. My hands clawed at his torso, leaving little red lines.

He smiled, squeezing my thighs, as he came inside of me. Just then, the door swung open, revealing a feral-looking Jeff. "You fucking slut!" He screamed.

Liu pulled out of me, fixing himself, before charging at Jeff. Pinning him to the ground, Liu lifted his knife above his head.

"Sweetheart, go ahead and leave; I'll come and get you in a minute!"

I returned to my dorm, dreading the thought of dealing with Michael and his dumbass attitude. I walked in and set my books on the kitchen counter and then walked to the fridge. I grabbed a beer and sat on the couch. 

A door to the side of me creaked open and I let out a deep sigh, "Here we go again." I thought. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the last beer from the fridge. "Damnit, Michael! Was that the last beer?!" I yelled. 

He nodded and gave a shit-eating smirk while opening the beer and chugging it. He finished the beer and crumbled it; he threw it at me and chuckled. "Michael, you dick!" I yelled. He flipped me off and went back to his room. 

After about an hour of letting my anger bubble up, I decided to go retaliate. I got up and went to his door. I pushed it open and then I stopped. All he had was a towel around his waist. I felt my face get hot and a shiver go down my spine. He smirked.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, walking closer. "I uh-" 

I just stuttered out some words and sounds, trying to keep my composure. I couldn't. I mean looking at him I just felt something. His sun-kissed skin was dripping with hot water and his hair stuck to his face. His toned stomach was exposed, and his lower half was covered by a thin piece of cloth. I subconsciously bit my lip. 

He was right in front of me. He bent down, "Staring isn't polite, darling." he taunted. I just nodded and looked him up and down. "What did I just say?" he rhetorically asked, taking my hands and pinning them to the wall. "D-don't stare..." I answered. "Good girl..." he praised. 

He lowered his head and put it to my neck. "I want everyone to see how you submit so well to me."

He began to kiss and suck on my neck, leaving dark purple bruises all over. I let out a small whine and he slid his hand up to my neck and squeezed it; it left a red mark. He moved his lips from my neck to mine and began to kiss me. He pulled away for a second, regaining his breath, and then went right back. 

"You're so beautiful." he praised. I let out another small whine and began to claw into his back. He let out a groan and this made me crazy. He lifted me and carried me to his bed. He threw me down and crawled on top. "So pretty...pretty...pretty...pretty..." he repeated. He stopped kissing me and lifted his head. 

He stood up and walked to his dresser, he opened it and pulled out a collar. It was black and had metallically purple spikes. He came back over and put it on my neck, it was constricting. I whimpered again. "Too tight?" I nodded. He loosened the collar and buckled it one last time. 

He took his hand and slid it into my pants, ripping them off in a clean swipe. He looked down at me, good thing I had worn lace?

He got red and whispered some swears under his breath as he held my sides. He took his index finger and rubbed it up and down my slit, I shivered and looked up at him. 

He moved his hands under my shirt and up to my breasts, he grabbed them and squeezed them ever so slightly. I grabbed his hand and moved it to my neck. He smiled and began to squeeze it, I smiled back. He massaged my clit through my panties. "So wet, just for me? I'm flattered." He moved my underwear to the side, then took his finger, and rubbed my clit. I bit my lip slightly.

Abruptly, he stopped and aggressively shoved it in. I grabbed his arm and dug my nails in. He covered my mouth to keep me quiet. It hurt a little but after he went in and out a few times it began to feel euphoric. I never wanted it to stop. 

He put another finger in, and another. "Fuck!" I screamed. He moved his fingers in and out aggressively. I nearly screamed. I felt a shiver go down my spine, and my back arched. Right before I came, he sped up and curled his fingers inside of me. I felt myself release onto his hand. He pulled his fingers out and spread them, looking at the discharge that had covered his hands. He licked them until they were clean. 

He looked back down at me, "So good." he praised. "Yes, so good." I agreed. My chest was going up and down, I had never felt something so painful yet pleasureful. "Again." I demanded. He shrugged and smiled. "Alright," he said, tearing off the towel he had been wearing loosely around his waist. 

Resting on my elbows, I looked up. My eyes widened and my heart sped up as he revealed his massive cock. He smiled. This motherfucker knew he was big, he knew. I smiled and sat up, grabbing his sides and pushing him onto the bed. He looked surprised, yet happy. 

I spat on his cock before putting an inch or two in my mouth. "Don't tease, dear." he begged. "Not now." he grabbed my hair and removed my head from his cock. He went to his dresser and pulled out a leash. He clipped it onto the collar he had put on me. 

He grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at him. "Choke bitch." he commanded. I nodded and put about three inches in. He grabbed my head and shoved the rest of him down my throat, I gagged and felt tears stream down my cheeks. He groaned and threw his head back. I bobbed my head back and forth, choking and desperately trying to fit it all. 

A thick, warm substance filled the back of my throat, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. It was painful and agonizing but I wanted it, I love how it hurts. He grabbed the sheets and tried to beg for me to stop but all he did was stutter over his words and moan pathetically. 

The warm substance filled my throat once again. I finally removed his cock from my throat and stood up. He stuttered over his words once again. He waited for a minute before grabbing a massage gun from his closet. He walked back over and turned it on, smiling sadistically.  

He put it near your entrance and increased the speed. Gripping the sheets, I screamed. "M-Michael!" I screamed. "Say it again." he demanded. "Michael!" I screamed. "That's right." he praised again. He pushed the machine further in and I felt my back arching and my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 

I felt myself self-release all over the machine. He didn't stop, this was my payback for earlier. My legs started to ache and quiver. He didn't stop even after my back arched and my legs were tired, he went in and out. He stopped with the machine and shoved his dick in me.

I felt my hole stretch around his massive cock. He bent down and let me grab onto his back or his hair, just whatever I could get my hands on. I screamed his name again and he groaned out a praise. "Good girl." he groaned out, between curses and grunts. 

He left more and more hickeys on my neck. 

After another hour of being completely dominated and destroyed, he finally came, and I felt the warm, thick liquid seep out of me. I checked the time, it was 7 AM. I had to rush out of his room and to my class, sprinting across campus and to my lecture. Surprisingly, I got there early. Michael arrived around five minutes after me. 

Only a few kids were in the room, most of them were smoking or reading. I just sat and put my head down. The teacher always entered the class at the latest, so all the kids were already in the room by the time he came in too. 

I had been sitting for a while before I heard the all-too-familiar sound of heels on the wooden floors of the classroom. "Fuck..." I murmured. It was Olivia Rogers. This bitch had been bullying me since grade school.  Michael had sat right next to me, why wouldn't he have? He immediately went to sleep. 

Olivia walked up to me and started her shit. "Ooh~" she taunted. "I see you finally have Maxwell a chance!" she jeered. I just rolled my eyes; she had commented on the state of my bruised neck. Maxwell McCann had liked me since kindergarten, he wasn't a bad guy, just weird and ugly. He also smelled on the account of him being shoved into the trashcans by the 'popular kids'.

"Fuck off," I said, laying my head back down on the desk. She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the podium where Mr. Greg usually stood. "Hey everybody!" she yelled. "Look at Rei! She finally gave ol' Maxy a chance!" she mocked. 

At this point, everyone was in class and tears were rolling down my cheeks and my head hurt from her pulling my hair. "Look at her neck!" she screamed. People were laughing and I was crying. I closed my eyes and tried to drown out her voice but that seemed to make it worse. 

A voice stood out from the crowd, Michael's.

"Actually, Olivia..." he stopped and started to laugh. "She gave me a chance. So why don't you fuck off and give me my girlfriend back." he said, his tone Icy and stale. He was a dick but even I was scared. "Mikey! No, I'm sorry. I love you!" she begged. He pulled me away and sat me on my feet, passionately kissing me in front of her. "Looks like nobody knew you were mine, guess we'll have to get some more proof." he suggested, tapping at the marks on my neck. I nodded and smiled as he lifted me up and back to our seats, setting me on his lap instead. 

"I'm gonna make you cry like that." he threatened. I moaned into his ear and massaged his crotch. "Don't threaten me with a good time." I retorted. He laughed nervously and grabbed my waist, pulling me into a violent kiss as Olivia watched. 

"I love you."

"I love you too." 

(I WROTE THIS MONTHS AGO; I PROMISE I'VE IMPROVED) (IT'S SO BAD I KNOW)

Hoodie/Brian NSFW hc's

Thighs. Choke him with them. Thigh jobs. 100% Will switch, but likes to be dom He whimpers on bottom Groans on top Very vocal Too good with his mouth Likes to receive or give head Fine with either Will worship you Rough or gentle Pull his hair Cute ass happy trail Limited hair Trims hair often Pull his fucking hair. Can go for four rounds at most Likes being caught He wouldn't prefer it but doesn't mind if it happens He sees it as showing you off Will not share Possessive You are getting dicked down if he's mad You wanna walk to the kitchen? Crutches. Hates wearing his mask in bed. Likes any position he can pull your hair or see your face. Squeeze his head with your thighs when he eats you out Look him in the eyes as he cums ask over your face He can and will be milked Loves having his hands tied to the headboard or somewhere he can't use them Call him names He doesn't care as long as it's with you Aftercare

Apathetic-Wounded

You shook your head, disbelief flooding through you. "No." You denied. He nodded. "Yes." He retorted. He shoved past you again, leaning down once he reached you. "It's nice to see you up close, (y/n)." He muttered, exiting.

With a surge of confidence, or sheer stupidity, - likely the latter -, you grabbed his wrist. He turned around. "What do you want?" You snapped.

He laughed, but it was horrifyingly gravely and deep, and you didn't know what to make of it. With a strong grip on his wrist, him staring you down, and your face like a deer in headlights, he laughed.

Moving his hand to his pocket, he pulled something out. It was shimmery and sleek grey; there was a click sound, and the safety was off his gun. He did it skilfully, one handed. He tapped the cold barrel against the underneath of your chin.

You let go before he could say anything, though, you doubted he would've. "You're welcome. " he said. You held your breath, stepping back into your room as he left, somewhere out of sight.

There was no sound. Not the opening of closing of a door, not the jingle of keys. But after a moment, there was one: the sound of the kettle going off. You slowly entered the kitchen, skin crawling and heart thumping so violently against your ribs.

There was a mug, a foot away from the cabinet with the rest of the mugs. The sugar rested next to it. The spoon was on the sugars lid. And there was a teabag already in the cup.

The kettle continued to screech until you placed it on the other burner. Sitting against the counter top, you recalled the notes and the strangely sweet things.

Once again, there was a note. This time, it read,"Sorry for the scare!" In big, black ink. You sighed, thinking of what he could want. If he wanted money, then he was in the wrong place.

But he'd have to know that. He knew how you liked your coffee. What else could he truly want? Your mind flickered, and you needed to check on your mother. Dashing to her room, you quietly opened the door, only to find her awake, playing on her phone.

"Did you hear anything?" You asked, attempting to hide the absolute fear and panic that was sure to be lacing your voice. She shook her head, gaze returning to the screen of her phone.

You bolted out of her room, gently shutting the door, of course, and searched the rest of the house. After countless times of checking the rooms, you returned to yours, but not after making sure everything was locked.

After plopping on the bed, you shut your eyes, praying to wake up and have it all be a dream. But it wasn't, and you couldn't wake up from real life. Your phone buzzed lightly on the foot of your bed, and you picked it up, glancing at the screen.

It was a new message, but from a string of random numbers. This person wasn't in your contacts. You unlocked your phone, checking to see what it says. "Call the cops; I dare you!" It read.

Your heart sunk in your chest, a thundering headache splintering through your head. tears pricked at your eyes, streaming down your cheeks and falling onto the floor. "Fuck," you muttered. As you buried your face in the pillow, a scream shot out of your burning throat, being muffled by the soft fabric. "I can't do this," you thought.

Your mind scrambled, thoughts rushing back again and again to what they could want. But finally, it came back to the one possibility. You. They could want you.