My Hoodie/Brian Thomas ABC's

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)

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.

Jeff the Killer Oneshot

I clicked off my TV, tossing my remote on my bed as I headed to the bathroom. I stripped down, stepping into the scalding water. I washed my hair, scrubbed my body, and got out, wrapping a towel around my body.

Once I stepped into my room, I changed into my bedclothes, ones that would at least provide some help to resist the sweltering heat of summer. I struggled to put my bra on my wet body, sliding it on and clipping it once I was dry enough.

I threw on a thin, baggy shirt and shorts. Once I finished, I set on my bed, sweating. I checked my phone, seeing a new message from a close friend of mine.

It was a news article; a picture of a ghost white man with long brown hair and a permanent smile carved into his fair skin. His eyes were a menacing blue. I watched the video, understanding that he was a serial killer on the loose.

I learned about his technique.

The wind blew my hair around as I opened my window in a sad attempt to cook my hot room. I walked back to my bed, collapsing into the sheets. I lay uncomfortably on my bed, rising and turning in the heat. Eventually, I slipped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra and shorts.

I allowed my eyes to flutter closed, slowly drifting off to sleep.

I woke up to a stinging pain between my thighs. As I tried to sit up, I realized that my neck was restrained. I squirmed, trying to free myself. My voice caught in my throat as my hands and asked struggled against my sheets, too.

Tears began to streak down my face, falling off my cheeks, and ending up on my pillow. My breath hitched as a white face greets me. "Hello, " it cooed. I couldn't speak.

His skin was ghost white like he'd been drained competent of his blood; two piercing blue eyes stared at me; long black hair covered his shoulders; a long grin was engraved into his face; he wore a white hoodie stained with deep crimson blood-- blood that had now dried and lightened in color--

"I'm talking to you," it snapped. "Hi," I whispered. "That's better," it praised. Two piercing blue eyes stared into mine, reading into my soul. I looked down at my thighs, the stinging pain yet to dwindle.

Noticing my divided attention, he followed my gaze. "Oh, do you like my work?' He laughed. I nodded, scared of what he would do if I said no. He pulled a silver, glistening knife up, rotating it. "Isn't that pretty?" He whispered. "Yes, very pretty," I agreed.

"Do you know who I am?"

I nodded.

"That's good."

His stained fingers made their way up to y neck, giving it a light squeeze. "So do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He muttered. I nodded lightly, allowing the horrifying reality to sink in. Pressing the sharp blade to my neck, he smiled impossibly wider.

Raising the knife above his head, he prepared to plunge it into my chest, but I couldn't key that happen. "Wait! I'll do anything, please, don't kill me!" I begged. "Anything!"

"Anything?" He teased. I nodded viciously, struggling against his restraints. Leaning up to whisper in my ear, "Then make me feel good, baby," his breath fell against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

His hands trailed down my neck, resting on my thinly covered breast. He pressed a sloppy kiss to my collarbone with chapped lips. Climbing up to sit on my chest. His hands planted firmly on my shoulders.

Unzipping his black skinny jeans, he partly revealed his white boxers. I could see his boner restricting against the fabric, and it turned me on even more. I smashed my thighs together, earning little satisfaction.

Putting his face closer to my neck, he placed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to my neck, leaving behind deep purple and red bruises. "You ready to be a good slut for me?" He whispered.

"I'm so ready," I said, almost whimpering at the need growing in my stomach. "That's good," he cooed. Pulling his boxers down, his length began to slowly spring up. My mouth watered.

It leaked with pre as he tantalizingly stroked himself. Placing his tip at my lips, I opened my mouth, allowing him to insert himself. His veiny hands gripped my headboard as he slowly thrust.

I gagged slightly as his hips faltered when pushing into my mouth, but didn't stop sucking. He pulled out of my mouth, snapping his hips back into my face. I gagged on his dick as he violently face-fucked me, making me moan and vibrate his dick in my mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned. His fingers tangled in my hair as he bruised the neck of my throat. I felt his cock twitch in my mouth, and he soon filled it with his cum. "Good girl," he praised.

"Swallow." He demanded. I did as he did, swallowing his load. Cum and spit dripped from my bottom lip, quickly being wiped away by the man's finger. "You're too sweet to let go to waste, " he muttered, but not to me.

He shambled off me, settling himself between my legs. Propped on his knees, hands on my hips, he pulled my shorts down. Taunting my entrance with his finger, he slipped it up and down my folds; I tensed at his cold touch but eased up as he went.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked, excitement flooding his crystal blue eyes. I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. His finger moved back to my entrance, using my wet as lubricant to slip in.

I winced as a burning feeling became slightly more prominent, but faded as he slowly pumped. I let out a soft moan as he inserted a second finger. My back arched up as his speed increased.

"Oh, mm-" I moaned, snapping my eyes closed. His fingers scissored and curled, making my hands clamp. "F-fuck!" I whined. "You like that, you little slut?" He hissed. "Yeah, oh, fuck. I love it-" I answered.

"You're such a little whore for me, aren't you? Letting me finger you and sucking on my dick so good; what a good girl."

As my orgasm washed over me, my legs shook, and my lips parted as I knitted my brows together. Releasing onto his hand, he pulled up his sticky fingers, spreading them to watch the cum stretch.

He put the wet fingers in his mouth, licking then clean. "You taste good," he commented, smearing his spit-covered fingers on the inside of my thigh, making the stinging pain return.

"Will you untie me?" I begged. "I wanna ride you so fucking bad-" he slapped me across the face. "You do what Isay, got it?" He spat. "Yes, sir, " I swallowed thickly.

He placed his tip at my entrance, both hands on each side of my head. "You're gonna take my dick so fucking good, 'kay? That tight little pussy is good grip me so fucking good."

He slammed into me; I clamped my hands, and tears streaked down my face and into my pillow. He thrust into me relentlessly, spit falling from his mouth. "Oh, your pussy's so fucking tight-" he moaned, grimacing.

My back arched as I came, releasing onto his dick. My walls clenched around him, making him cum deep inside me. "That's right; I'm filling you up so fuckin' good. And you love it, don't you?"

I nodded.

He pulled away, taking his knife and cutting my restraints. As he backed to my window, he left with one final message.

"I'm not done with you,"

Masky/Tim NSFW hc's

Has a collar. Will use said collar Choking your ass as he fucks you from behind Will put his fingers in your mouth to stretch it from behind No foreplay You take his cock When he wants, when you want Didn't matter to him Anywhere, anytime, by any means Bro lives for head Give him head Praise him about how good he feels How deep he is He will fucking melt Let him cum in you He loves watching his cum drip out of you as you drool

'Ticci' Toby NSFW hc's

Switch On bottom, he whimpers On top, he whimpers He's so loud Says shit like "oh, fuck, I feel so fucking good-" and will cry if you overstimulate him Milk him Lives simply to be called "Good Boy" Will grab every inch of you unapologetically Will bend you over anywhere Drools Screams Claws at you Loves to be scratched Will bite Bite him Hickeys All over Aftercare consists of making sure you're okay and cleaning you up

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