#I HAD HEAPS OF FUN WITH IT THO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redvexillum · 5 months ago

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@crackrodent I really am using your requests as tribute for my Kinktober/Flufftober, lol. This is my very first Adam ask and I'm sorry, I can't kill Adam! You know how much I love Adam! That's it *rolls up sleeves* imma show you what happens when you mess with the d1ckm@ster! Rawr! 😈

Special thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for being my muse for this story. Bless you. I had way too much fucking fun writing this. 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, reader is fox demon for plot, sinner!adam, d☆ggy style, reader has a potty mouth, adam is the dickmaster, an☆l play, sp☆nking, hair pulling, multiple ☆rgasm (f!receiving), sq☆irting, rough s☆x, bl☆w job, big d☆ck adam, dom/sub undertone, so much f☆cking banter istg please shut up, adam being adam, adam figuratively sucking his own dick, toxic masculinity just oozes out of adam but the sex is hot af tho, adam is kind of a loveable idiot (?), I really went overboard here...sry kit (but not rly ayyy 🤣), CRUFTTY (crack + fluff + smut)

Building a sandwich was fucking art.

The bread had to be perfect – moist and soft, but not so soft that it turned into a soggy mess under the weight of the toppings. It needed strength to hold everything together, to create a flawless bite.

Every ingredient was handpicked by yours truly, each one deserving its place. The crispness of the lettuce, the savoury crunch of bacon, and the creamy balance of mayonnaise all had to align just right. Too much of anything, and the delicate flavour of harmony would soon collapse into a desolate heap of failure.

It was your first day at “Hazbin Hotel,” a place with the dumbest fucking name you’d ever heard. Redemption, they called it. A program to save sinners, to help them earn their way to heaven. So far, all you’d seen was a ragtag crew of lunatics who wouldn’t have spent five minutes together unless they had their own selfish reasons for being here.

Not that you gave a damn. You were here for one thing: free rent and free food. Your pointy ears twitched at the sound of manic laughter echoing through the halls. Niffty? Swifty? Whatever the hell her name was, you didn’t care enough to remember.

All that mattered right now was your sandwich.

Your orange tail, fluffy and tipped in black, swayed behind you as you worked with precision. The smell of freshly fried bacon lingered in the air, and a satisfied shiver ran down your spine. You squinted, eyeing the perfect amount of mayonnaise that dropped onto the bread with a soft plop. A sense of pride bloomed in your chest as you spread it evenly, knowing this was going to be the best fucking sandwich you’d ever made since coming down to Hell.

Your lips stretched into a grin as you placed the final slice of bread on top, your tail flicking back and forth in anticipation.

This was it.

Perfection.

Nothing could ruin this beautiful moment.

Until, of course, all hell broke loose.

As you stepped into the lobby, plate in hand, you barely had time to process the chaos before you. Your feet skidded to a halt, and you almost dropped your sandwich. The sandwich you would’ve committed six counts of murder for.

“Holy shit!” you yelped, barely saving the plate from tumbling.

There, right in front of you, was Niffty – or Swifty – going full psycho mode, cackling like a maniac as she repeatedly stabbed the newest guest. The guy was on the floor, writhing in agony, while Niffty giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “DIE! DIE! DIE! HAHAHA!” she screamed, her voice high-pitched and sharp.

The blood splattered in bright red streaks as her tiny form hovered over him, the blade of her dagger glistening with every wild thrust. You watched, half in horror, half in disbelief, as she continued her assault with a grin that could only belong to someone completely unhinged.

It wasn’t until Charlie – or was it Marley? - rushed in, shouting and waving her arms, that the scene started to settle. “Niffty, stop!” she yelled, scooping up the small, crazed girl with a panicked gasp. The dagger slipped from Niffty’s hand, clattering to the ground, blood still dripping from its blade.

Huh. So, the girl’s name was Niffty.

Noted.

You picked up your sandwich, sinking your teeth into it, and damn near moaned right there in the lobby. The crisp, salty bacon mingled with the fresh crunch of lettuce, all balanced perfectly with the smooth creaminess of mayo. The bread was just the right kind of soft, with a subtle sweetness that tied everything together. It was like biting into a small piece of fucking heaven, even if you were in literal hell.

“Oh, fuck,” came a groan from the man on the floor, interrupting your moment of sandwich bliss. The shitty guy who’d just been stabbed was slowly getting to his feet, looking dazed. “What the fuck!” he whined, wincing as he touched his back, his fingers now slick with blood. “That fucking hurts, like, real bad!”

You rolled your eyes. Drama queen. This was hell, he was going to regenerate in a couple of minutes anyhow. You looked at him, and you almost dropped your sandwich, again.

This guy.

This fucking guy.

Why was this fucking guy here, of all places?

Marley – no, Charlie, fuck, whatever – chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” she said, flashing a nervous grin. “I, uh, forgot to tell Niffty that you’re not a bad guy anymore and at least she didn’t stab you with Angelic Steel!” she smiled way too brightly, as if that would somehow smooth things over.

The man groaned again, straightening up with an exaggerated wince. “Ugh, I was never a bad guy,” he huffed, raising his hands in a condescending little air-quote gesture. “I was chosen and ordained by the big man upstairs to do what was right.” His nose shot up in the air like he thought he was some hot shit, and he crossed his arms with the kind of arrogance that made you want to punch him in the throat.

You didn’t give two shits about the conversation. Hell, it was taking every ounce of self-control not to rip his trachea out right then and there. Of all the scum in hell, this asshole was the worst.

Before the hotel, you’d made the horrible mistake of matching with him on Vinder, thinking maybe you could enjoy a no-strings-attached fling.

Big fucking mistake.

Your eyes twitched at the flood of memories. His obnoxious, open-mouth chewing. His laugh – raucous, loud, and so fucking embarrassing in public. And the way he’d slapped your ass during the first date like he fucking owned you.

Chauvinistic.

Pig.

Every fibre of your being hated him.

Well, almost everything.

Your fingers tightened around the plate; the half-eaten sandwich forgotten. You hated him with a passion, but you couldn’t deny one thing: he had a huge cock. And, fuck, he knew how to use it. No matter how many times you swore it would be the last time; you kept crawling back, falling into the same damn cycle.

One more fuck turned into two, then three, then how the hell did this happen again?

You were a goddamn addict – specifically, addicted to his dick. If you could slap a paper bag over his head, tie him up, and just ride him without hearing his obnoxious voice, that would be ideal. But you had no fucking self-control, and now here you were, in this weird-ass hotel,probably a cult at this point, hoping for a clean break.

Adam – fucking Adam – caught your eye. His lips curled into a wide grin, teeth flashing like he’d just found a new toy. His red eyes sparkled in the dim light as he swaggered toward you, arms wide open. “Sugartits!” he called out, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. He moved in for a hug.

You ducked under his arm, shooting him the nastiest scowl you could muster. Your ears flattened against your head, tail dropping between your legs in a stiff, unamused twitch.

“You two know each other?” Marley – Charlie – whoever, asked, looking between you both with a raised brow and growing curiosity.

“No,” you said curtly, biting into your sandwich again with more aggression than necessary.

Adam, of course, couldn’t resist. “Oh, you could say I know her very well,” he said with a shit-eating grin, waggling his eyebrows like an idiot.

“Ew,” Marley muttered, grimacing without even trying to hide her disgust.

You groaned inwardly. Of all the fucking people in hell, why did it have to be him?

Before you could even form a word, Adam’s fingers wiggled playfully, his lips curling into an “O” as he honed in on your sandwich like a predator eyeing its prey. “Aww, babe, you shouldn’t have!” he exclaimed, snatching up the sandwich you had poured your soul into for the last thirty minutes.

“Wha-Wait-” you sputtered, horrified, as he stuffed the sandwich into his mouth in two massive bites, crumbs tumbling from his lips without a single ounce of grace.

“Oh, hmm,” he chewed noisily, his cheeks bulging with food as he smacked his lips obnoxiously. “Ya know, I think you-” smack, smack, smack – his disgusting chewing noises clashing with the image of your sandwich being annihilated. “You may have put too much mayonnaise,” he continued, crumbs flying as he spoke with his mouth open. “So, I’d give it a 4 out of 10.”

The low, primal growl that erupted from your throat felt volcanic, like every ounce of rage you’d bottled up over the miserable dates and hollow excuses was bubbling to the surface.

You were fucking done.

Every humiliating dinner where he’d “forgotten” his wallet, every time you’d fucked him to deal with your frustration with him – it all flashed through your mind in an explosive torrent. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar and yanked him down to your level.

“We need to fucking talk,” you growled, teeth clenched, venom practically dripping from your words.

Dragging him towards your room, your eyes narrowed in disgust as Adam shot a wink at Marley, fingers raised in an unmistakable gesture for “fucking.” Of course, he thought this was just some sort of game.

No amount of good dick would make you compromise on your self-respect–-

And yet, here you were, kneeling naked in your room, your mouth wrapped around his thick cock, the taste of him flooding your senses. The worst part? You didn’t even remember how the hell you got here.

“Oh fuck, you missed my cock, didn’t you babe?” Adam groaned; his voice thick with smug satisfaction. His hand gripped the base of his cock while his other fingers curled into your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. “Open that pretty little mouth for me. Say your prayers like the good girl you are,” he crooned, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You hated him. You hated how he could still make you fall to your knees with just a look. One second, you’d been screaming at him, ready to shove a 21-inch dildo up his ass, and the next, he had his cock out, and there you were – sucking him off like nothing had changed.

Fuck.

Your lips stretched painfully around his girth as he pushed deeper into your mouth, groaning as your warmth engulfed him. His soft, pudgy stomach pressed against your forehead as he shoved his fat cock all the way to the hilt. Your throat tightened around him, gagging slightly, but the reaction only made your pussy throb with need. The taste of him was heady, familiar, and it brought back memories of the way he could fuck you into oblivion, no matter how much you hated him.

“That’s it, babe, suck it nice and deep,” Adam grunted, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself deeper in your throat. “Bet you fucking missed this cock, huh? It’s been too long since you had a real man inside you.”

You rolled your eyes, choking back the desire to tell him to shut the fuck up. If he would just be quiet for one goddamn second, you’d probably cum just from sucking his cock alone. But no, he always had to run his mouth.

Then, his foot pressed firmly between your legs, the top of it rubbing directly against your slick pussy. Your breath hitched as his smug grin stretched wider, his eyes locking onto yours. “Go on, babe,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing. “I want to see you hump like the needy slut you are. Show me how much you fucking need it.”

The words should’ve made you furious, but instead, they sent a shudder of arousal through your body. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his foot, your wetness soaking his skin as you rode him like you were desperate for release.

You should hate this. You should hate him.

You do hate him.

But goddammit, you don’t hate this.

“Mmph,” you moaned around his cock, your voice muffled by the thick shaft filling your throat. Your hips bucked wildly against his foot, the pressure building inside you faster than you’d like to admit. The musky taste of his pre-cum sliding down your throat made your whole-body clench in anticipation, bringing you dangerously close to the edge.

“That’s right, sugartits,” Adam groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look how good you are, sucking my big, fat cock.” The grin on his face was full of smug pride, and you could practically see the self-satisfaction swelling in his chest.

The words “fuck you” echoed in your mind, but the moment his foot sped up, rubbing your clit in rapid strokes, your defiance crumbled beneath the weight of pure pleasure. The sharp edge of it cut through you, sending heat spreading like wildfire as your body tensed. Then, the first orgasm ripped through you, crashing like a wave and leaving your nerves buzzing in its wake.

A muffled moan escaped around his cock, your spit trailing down your chin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hands dug into his thighs for support. Fuck, it felt good. Fuck, it’s been too long.

Adam pulled his cock free with a wet pop, and you barely had time to catch your breath before your legs trembled, the aftershocks still rippling through you.

But just as you started to get your bearings, the world spun as he flipped you upside down, blood rushing to your head, disorienting you. His cock was right in your face again, and your brain struggled to catch up.

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing?” you screeched, grabbing onto his bare hip for balance, your legs flailing helplessly in the air like a fish out of water.

“Relax, babe. I’m going to eat you out,” he said simply, his breath hot against your dripping folds. He didn’t wait for your reply. “Now, shut up. Either suck my cock or wait your turn like a good girl for your second orgasm.” The condescension in his voice made you want to punch him.

“Fuck you,” you spat, but your words were cut short as Adam ground his cock against your cheek, the heat of him searing into your skin.

“You’re not that – ah – ah – fuck!” The insult died in your throat as your knees buckled, legs trembling with the sudden rush of pleasure. His tongue was already working between your folds, lapping at your wetness with obscene slurping sounds, like he was a dog drinking from a fountain.

“Oh fuck, I’ve had better, you know,” you gasped, but even as you said it, your vision blurred from the lightheadedness, the blood pooling in your head making you dizzy. Your words rang hollow.

Adam didn’t respond with words. Instead, he shoved his thick tongue deeper inside you, practically fucking your pussy with it. The roughness of his beard brushed against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves through your body that had you trembling.

“Fuck...fuck...” you whined, unable to stop the involuntary moans spilling from your lips. Your hand instinctively found his cock, pumping it with desperate need. You fucking jackass. You hated how his scent, his cock, his fucking presencehad this kind of power over you. The desire to ride him until you couldn’t walk for days burned in your gut.

You hated everything about him – his cocky attitude, his smug grin, his fucking voice.

But fuck, his cock? His cock almost made up for it. Almost.

With a loud curse, as his mouth latched onto your swollen clit and sucked with relentless abandon, you felt yourself losing control. Your mouth opened wide, taking him back inside, your head bobbing back and forth as he fucked your mouth in rhythm with his tongue devouring you.

The pressure from hanging upside down added to the dizzying pleasure, the blood rushing to your head making you lightheaded, while the taste of him hit your tongue. You needed both hands to grip his cock, stroking it harder, faster, desperate for his release – desperate for something to satisfy the ache growing inside you. Every orgasm he gave you left you unsatisfied because you knew the only thing that could truly wreck you was him fucking you senseless.

As he always did.

Your stomach clenched tight, thighs shaking as Adam moaned into your cunt, the vibration sending shivers of delight through you. His nose nudged against the base of your folds, his breath hot and heavy. “You gonna cum again, bitch?” he growled, his voice muffled, but the meaning was clear. The vibration of his words only pushed you closer to the edge.

You hated how right he was. Fuck, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum again. You wanted to prove he wasn’t that good, that he didn’t know your body inside and out, that he couldn’t make you sing like a fucking instrument in his hands.

But it was like he could read your mind, taking your challenge as an invitation. He bucked his hips, pistoning into your mouth harder, while his lips and tongue attacked your clit with reckless fervour. Saliva dripped from your mouth, your face flushed and wet with the effort of keeping up with his pace.

It was only a matter of time. Your body betrayed you, your ass clenched, your legs spread wider, and with one last pulse of his tongue against your sensitive nub, you exploded. Another orgasm hit you, more intense than the last, your muffled cries of release vibrating around his cock as your body shook in his grasp.

Tears blurred your vision, streaming down your face as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, leaving you breathless. The world spun once more as Adam laid you down, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

Your chest heaved, breath ragged, and your left leg twitched with the aftershocks pulsing through your still-throbbing core. The only sounds were your gasps and his own laboured breathing, tangled together in the humid air.

Through bleary, tear-filled eyes, you glared up at him. “Fuck you,” you managed to spit out between shaky breaths.

Adam, ever the cocky bastard, stroked his cock, slick with your spit, his hand gliding smoothly along his length. “Babe, that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” His smirk was infuriating, and all you could think about was shoving his face between your legs, smothering him with your pussy until he couldn’t talk anymore. God, you wanted to suffocate him with it. Death by cunt? Sign me the fuck-up.

Why did he have to be such a colossal dick? The thought barely crossed your mind before his knees sank into the mattress, the bed groaning under his weight.

“It you didn’t - hah – talk so much, you’d almost be tolerable,” you shot back, each word laced with venom.

He burst out into bright laughter. “Tolerable? Baby, the way you worship my cock, you’re practically my most devout follower.” His sharp grin caught the dim light, and you couldn’t help the eye-roll that followed.

“Holy fuck, you’re the biggest douchebag I know, I can’t even – ah!” Your words turned into a yelp as he slammed his hips against yours, burying himself deep inside you, aided by the slick remnants of your previous orgasms and his saliva.

“Feel that?” he huffed, rolling his hips against your oversensitive clit, his voice dripping with smugness. “Look how fucking needy you are, bitch,” his grin widened as he looked down at you, eyes gleaming. “How many other cocks have tried to fill you since me? Any of them as good?” His hips slammed into yours, the wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

“Tell me, huh? Bet none of them could do this.” He pulled out, teasing you, before driving his cock back in, deeper, harder, the tip nudging against your cervix.

“FUCK!” you screamed, legs instinctively spreading wider, your body arcing up to meet his. “You’re - ugh – such – a – fucking – ugh – ASS!” Each word was broken by the force of his persistent thrusts, the bed beneath you creaking in rhythm with his movements. It was like the damn thing was protesting as loudly as you were.

“Good?” he smirked, filling in the blanks for you with every thrust. “Sexy? Amazing? Fantastic?” His pace quickened, clearly getting off on his own damn ego. If there was one thing he’d come from, it was the sound of his own bullshit.

“All - ugh – you're good for – is your dick,” you growled, strands of hair sticking to your sweaty face, your skin slick with the sheen of your effort. You hated him, hated how smug he was, how cocky – and fuck, how right he was about how good his cock felt.

Adam pulled out, his cock rock-hard and glistening with your arousal clinging to him. He gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up and pressing your face into the mattress.

Your heart skipped. This was the position that always wrecked you. Every. Single. Time.

“That’s why,” he lined up, the blunt tip of his cock teasing your entrance, “they call me the Dickmaster.” He punctuated his words by thrusting into you in one fluid stroke, filling you completely, pushing deep until he hit your womb. Your back arched as a shameless moan tore from your lips, your body curling from the overwhelming fullness.

“FUCK.” You nearly screamed. “Dickmaster? Are you fucking serious?” But despite the sheer cringe of the nickname, your body betrayed you. You moaned, louder, longer, as he thrust into you. The pleasure mixed with the sheer absurdity of it all.

He was so fucking cheesy. The cringiest man alive. Dickmaster? More like Cringemaster. And yet, here you were, being dicked down by this walking embarrassment, moaning like a bitch in heat. The passion you felt for him, the anger, the lust – it all mixed into a chaotic storm, burning hot inside you.

“Fuuuck youuu,” you wailed, voice trembling as Adam’s hips resumed their brutal, punishing rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the crack of skin-on-skin only fuelling the fire that was already burning through you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you sobbed, the sting from each slap merging with the pleasure, searing through your core as the heat radiated across your skin. You were sure his handprint was branded on your ass, marking you as his.

The pleasure built and built, his heavy balls slapping mercilessly against your clit with each thrust. It was overwhelming, your body trembling in a puddle of your own arousal, tears, and drool.

Why did you keep coming back to him? Out of all the sinners you could fuck, you always crawled back to him for a taste of that damn dick.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted mindlessly, your cunt squeezing tight around him as another orgasm threatened to break loose. But just when you were on the edge, he reached for your tail and yanked. Hard.

“YIP!” you screeched, the sharp, high-pitched squeal erupting from your throat as the flames of your arousal were doused instantly. You whipped your head around, glaring at him over your shoulder. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” you barked, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that you were on all fours, impaled on his cock with your ass still up in the air.

Adam’s eyes widened, his expression morphing from confusion to realization. “Oh shit, so that wasn’t your butt plug?” he asked, cock still buried deep inside you, pulsing against your fluttering walls that betrayed the fury burning inside you.

“WE’VE BEEN FUCKING FOR OVER HALF A YEAR, YOU ASSHOLE,” you snapped, baring your teeth in a snarl. “YOU EVEN FUCKED MY ASS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’D BE WEARING A BUTT PLUG NOW?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his hips didn’t stop rocking gently into you, sending shivers up your spine despite your anger. “Babe, it was an honest mistake,” he said before licking his fingers and sliding one thick digit down, pressing against your ass. “Let me make it up to you.”

Before you could protest, his finger was already pushing past the tight ring of muscle, sinking into your ass as your tail stiffened in response. “Oh, fuck,” you groaned, your resolve crumbling as the pleasure returned full force. His finger curled just right, rubbing the thin wall separating your pussy from your ass, sending jolts of ecstasy through both holes.

“Remember when I took your anal virginity?” Adam’s voice was smug, but the curl of his finger had you moaning instead of cursing him out. He pumped his finger slowly, in sync with the thrusts of his cock, his breath ragged with excitement. “You told me you hated anal, but look at you now. Begging for more.”

Your head dropped onto the mattress, your tail wagging unconsciously as he added another finger, stretching you wider. You closed your eyes, trying to block out his annoying voice, but your ass wiggled back against him, betraying your need for more. “Fucking hell,” you whimpered, completely undone.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Told you. After I finish with your pussy, I’ll give that ass some love too. They don’t call me the dickmaster for nothing.” His voice was maddening, but the way his fingers curled inside you made you forget how much you wanted to punch him.

Your ears flicked back, frustration mingling with desire. If only he would shut the fuck up, you would’ve come already – twice, even.

“Babe, you want my load that bad?” Adam cooed, his voice breathy as his cock twitched inside you. “You wanna be my cum dump?” he chuckled, fingers and cock working in perfect, relentless tandem.

“Sh-sh-shut up,” you moaned, voice low and trembling as your walls tightened around both his cock and his fingers. You were so close, teetering on the edge.

If he would just stop talking...

He pulled his fingers out of your ass, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His wet fingers gripped your hips, pulling your ass up higher as he pressed his weight down on you. Then, he started to fuck you hard – exactly the way you liked it – each brutal thrust forcing you down into the bed.

Your breath came in broken gasps, each thrust stealing the words from your lips as his cock filled you completely, forcing your slick walls to stretch for him. The bed creaked and groaned under you, matching the wet slap of skin on skin, the rhythmic pounding filled the room. Your stomach clenched, thighs quivering as you squeezed your eyes shut, knowing you were about to explode.

When his cock hit your g-spot again and again, your moan rose low and long, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You babbled incoherently, swearing and pleading for him to fill you.

And he did.

He always fucking did.

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your pussy, painting your insides as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You were wrecked, ruined, and thoroughly fucked – just the way you wanted it.

He pushed your body down, rolling you onto your back and stretching your thighs wide apart like he was prepping a canvas for his masterpiece. The thrill of being exposed sent shivers down your spine, and before you could catch your breath, his lips found your aching, sensitive clit.

His fingers dove into your cum-soaked folds, the squelching sounds echoing in the air, making you feel like a goddamn wet sponge. You were so close to the edge of another orgasm that your muscles quivered with anticipation. Your head tilted back, pressing against the bed, and you gasped as warmth flooded out of you, mingling with Adam’s thick, syrupy load.

“OH FUCK, FUCK!” you cried out, fingers curling tightly against the bedsheets, heels digging into the mattress like you were trying to anchor yourself to sanity. His mouth continued to suck at your oversensitive bud, relentless and teasing, even as you drenched him with your essence.

You peeked open your eyes to find him grinning like a kid in a candy store, his face glistening with your juices, and it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing to your core. The feeling of him latching onto you was intoxicating, pushing you to new heights as your walls pulsated around his fingers, unable to tell whether this was yet another orgasm or simply an extension of the last.

“ADAM!” you screamed, practically sobbing as your body jolted and convulsed under his ministrations. Pleasure poured over you, and your breath came in heavy gasps, your mind slipping into a blissful haze. His fingers curled perfectly inside you, mashing your g-spot like he was playing some twisted game of whack a mole, keeping you suspended in a state of everlasting pleasure.

The last thing you registered before the world faded away was Adam moaning your name, his voice vibrating through your very core like a damn choir.

When you fluttered your eyes open again, your body was still bare and sprawled out like a starfish on the bed. You heard that familiar sound of suckling, and looking down, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight – his familiar mop of brown hair nestled between your thighs, still focused on drinking you up like a man starved for 40 days and 40 nights.

Pleasure washed over you in soft, slow strokes as Adam continued to eat you out. “How long have you been down there?” you asked, voice hoarse from all the screaming and moaning.

His head popped up, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “Dunno, but they do call me the ultimate pussy eater,” he said with a cheeky grin, like he was the fucking king of the world.

You dropped your head back against the bed, trying to stifle a laugh. “No, they don’t,” you muttered, breath hitching as his tongue parted your slick folds again. “Fuck, we can’t keep doing this,” you whined, instinctively opening your thighs wider to give him better access.

His fingers gripped your hips, anchoring you as his tongue burrowed deeper into your pussy, pressing against your inner walls, exploring every inch like he was on some treasure hunt.

Naturally, he didn’t listen to your protests. He continued to slurp and lick, devouring you like a feast, and you should have stopped him.

You really should have.

But as a jolt of pleasure shot up your spine, tingling all the way to your core, a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips.

Fuck, this was bad. You had come to the hotel knowing you had little self-control around him, and at this rate, you were destined to fuck him every day.

Your body, soft and pliant, refused to budge; instead, you pushed your hips deeper into his mouth. “Fuck you,” you murmured weakly, as he coaxed another sultry moan from your lips. “This will be the last fucking time, I swear,” you insisted, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushed you closer to the edge of pleasure.

But deep down, you knew you had said it was the last time so many fucking times that you’d lost count of your own vows.

You hated him, yes.

But fuck him and fuck yourself.

You didn’t hate this.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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28ms28 · 4 months ago

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Okay lights out and away we go!

Franco Colapinto emotional radio during formation lap

Vb thanking Ferrari engine(1st time anyone has ever done that)

Max "Turn 1" verstappen going for it and channelling his inner Ferrari boy and taking Oscar out(my favourite Ferrari boy mr max verstappen)

Vb and Sergio Perez making contact and Checo retires from what could be his last race for Redbull or last race in f1 ever

Pierre Gasly is somehow 3rd on the road

and Charles is umm *checks notes* P12 SOMEHOW MAKING UP 7 POSITIONS IN HALF A LAP

yuki had a shit start some clutch problem

And *checks notes again* oh and Charles Leclerc is p8 now lap 2 is not even over yet and he's p8 now he's gained 11 places. ELEVEN

KMAG has gained 7 places. Goat behaviour

Oscar is p19 and last(oof)

Alpine fighting and winning against mercedes(what the hell, sure)

Lando timing the vsc perfectly and running away from Carlos

Oscar hitting Franco and puncturing Franco's tyres(another oof moment for Oscar)(he'll get a pen for that)

Max and Oscar and Vb all get a 10 sec penalty

"move of a wdc that one"(Oscar you funny man)

"We are p8""woohoohoo"(charles you funny man)

It's so over for Mercedes(loosing against alpine)

"G.O.O.D."(Oscar stop)

Fernando Alonso makes his own track up for a while(that was so foul from Martin lmao)

Lewis making up a heap of places not so slowly but surely

Charles Leclerc 3rd track limit strike in span of 12 laps(bro was pushing hard i applaud)(kept in under control for the rest of the race)(i applaud again)

Kmag slow pitstop ruining his race(why does this always happen with Haas)

Alex Albon and Zhou Guanyu apparently being investigated for a false start

Zhou getting a 5sec penalty. Alex is freeee.

Yukierre having beautiful w2w

Charles undercuts George and Pierre and is effectively p3 now

It's a bird it's a plane it's Charles Leclerc overtaking everybody(wtf did he have for breakfast)

Vcarb going a vcarb and forgetting how to properly bolt a tyre and messing up Liam's race(it gets way worse later)

Forget that, it gets worse NOW they get 10 sec stop go for unsafe release on track. That's like 30 seconds.(Wdym it still gets worse later wdym)

Ferrari pitting Carlos and it's a fast stop(2.2). Wonderful

Mclaren pit Lando and holy shit that's even faster(2.0).

Franco retires from the race (goodbye Franco may heaven for Williams tortured drivers welcome you with open arms)

Carlos is pushing his tyres to get closer to Lando (gee I wonder if this will have future consequences on his fight with Lando for the wcc)

Alonso not putting up much of a fight with Max but doing so with Oscar(cinema)

Bono apparently has a plan that can result in Lewis being p3 (Gaslight gatekeep girlboss Bono)(they came close to p3 I'll give him that)

"Stupid idiots" lmao Max and Oscar being their own version of aggressive on the radio lol

Oh my god Valtteri and Kmag making contact. Unfortunate for both of them. One of those contacts you can't really blame on either of the drivers but yeah sucks.

Valtteri retires from the race he had too much damage(the lesson here is don't make emotional radios on the starting grid or you have a high likelihood of not finishing the race)

Kmag sets a fastest lap with a damaged car(goat behaviour)

Both Aston Martin cars committing war crimes against Oscar piastri's race all throughout their race(lol cannot make this shit up)

Ferrari are p2-p3 and both of their tyres are hanging on by thoughts and prayers

"Dou kan do dat": Toto wolff(idk why I put this here I just like making fun of him sometimes)

Martin bringing up Fernando's dark times around the abu dhabi circuit(what did nando do to you Martin let the man be omg)

Oscar almost binned it into the wall cause yuki's car upset his own(nice save tho)

"This😭is😭the😭rhythm": Charles Leclerc(says while barely hanging on to his tyres said rhythm)

Anthony:Carlos has a potential puncture and something has flown into his cockpit apparently. Crofty: ah ok 👍(the skyf1 comms are so unserious my god)

Liam's car realizes that it doesn't want to finish the race and decides to ends itself

Lewis gets that P4 on the last possible moment making a fantastic overtake

Lando wins the race and Oscar got P10 so McLaren win the constructors!!!(They have 666 points.)(This was just in spite against their rival catholic team)

Ferrari 2-3.(Next year will be out year guys Forza Ferrari)(*Shakes violently*)(also this next year will be our year can be heard on lando radio as well lol)

Alpine finished above Haas in the constructors (which a/c to me is baffling that these two teams were even fighting for p6 considering the start of their season)(but no all 4 drivers were on it the whole season)(such a shame for Haas tho at one point it looked like it was surely going to be them)

Max verstappen somehow made it to p6 WHICH IS HIS LOWEST FINISHING POSTION THIS SEASON.I REPEAT P6 IS HIS LOWEST FINISHING POSTION P6.(Goat behaviour).

Lewis and Zhou do donuts(different locations)

Charles leclerc got dod(deserved)

Max went to apologise to Oscar after that turn 1 incident(yes max verstappen apologised)(apparently he does that to the Leclercs)

Lando and team were celebrating very nice to see and then mbs showed up and ruined it(zak brown was there so it already was kind of ruined)(and then the two evils hugged each other...astronomical amounts of evilness was achieved)(the only thing that kind of saved that frame of them hugging was that Lando was hugging his dad in the background)

Charles was sulking even after that masterclass race and then mbs showed up and ruined it even more

Also Jannik Sinner was supposed to wave the chequered flag and he looked absolutely devastated to do that(it's okay Italian boy next year will be our year come back next year)

Cooldown room was carlando+homophobic charles(charles really said RPF is not fine)

Cooldown room was also where zak brown and mbs were(who let them in man)(justice for Andrea Stella)(Andrea left Ferrari for McLaren and when McLaren win he doesn't even get to be on the podium smh)(plus he's cooler than zak brown)

Charles the absolute evil man hehe'ed at Max and Oscar spinning (the only time he smiled after during all of this btw)(lestappies rise)

Podium was nice if you were anyone other than charles leclerc. You have zak brown being borderline animalistic and overjoyus being more happy than the entire team combined lol. Also Carlos's last podium in red♥️

pray for george russell and charles leclerc nothing wrong with them they had to stand on the podium with brad pitt and act like they weren't just sulking.

You also have the Ferrari and McLaren crew hugging each other in the pitlane.(No...fight fight!)(Jk jk no but it's really nice to see those two teams not hold toxic grudges)(The season is over focus on next year if you're a Ferrari fan) (this season is over focus on next year if you're a McLaren fan but celebrate first)

Oh also nico rosberg has been saying Lewis Hamilton is his friend and also the greatest driver of all time(idk what implications this has but I don't think the goat part should surprise you he has always put lewis above others)

We saw 24 drivers this season and 5 of them have not made it past 2024 with a full time race seat. Thank you for your services Kmag, Valtteri, Zhou, Logan and Daniel. History will not forget you and we might see you some other time in f1 nobody knows how this circus works! (also checo could be a part of this club pray for him i suppose)

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bluesilkdressao3 · 3 months ago

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AoT Veteran Men and How I Perceive Their Relationship with Sex.

Levi, Erwin, Mike.

Fave positions, kinks, where.

Gender neutral.

Levi

In my mind, the most likely to be a virgin into adulthood. I think that growing up around brothels and men purchasing sex from women has made him perhaps view sex as something lacking intimacy or even being associated with violence.

I don’t perceive him as being asexual, but certainly having a reluctant view toward sex—absolutely not interested in casual sex.

When he does have sex, he seems like the sort to really slowly work toward penetrative sex; even only engaging in heavy petting and handjobs/fingering during the majority of initial sexual encounters.

I think his neuroses around dirt and cleanliness would manifest in an enjoyment around cleaning his partner, bathing them, drying them, intimate care practices. I do think that oral sex (giving and receiving) would only go ahead if both he and his partner are washed.

Needs slow, patient, quiet sex, interspersed with conversation and humour. Not the sort to do heaps of dirty talk, certainly not the sort to call his partner insults seriously during sex. Does seem like the sort to be heavy on the praise tho.

In regards to penetrative sex, he’s big on missionary—he finds it perhaps the most carnal? Cherishes the intimacy and closeness of being face-to-face with his partner.

Other than missionary, he seems like the sort to enjoy his partner riding him. Would like them to face him as seeing their face and the way they react to pleasure would give him immense satisfaction and confirmation that they feel good and enjoying it.

I do also see him enjoying fucking his partner while they sit on a surface—he can still see their face but there’s more of a frantic carnality to it; think a passionate moment on his desk.

Erwin

Has had some casual sex but not much. To me, he seems like the sort to entirely swear off casual sex once he reached the role of Captain, and that was only solidified when he became Commander.

Like Levi, if he has sex then he would have to have developed a lot of trust with the person. I think he’d like to be able to speak frankly with them, establishing the ground rule of don’t let this cloud your judgement in the field.

Actually pretty easy going in bed.

Happy to try different positions, enjoys going down on his partner. But sex is confined to the bedroom and he would not be the sort to be a bit more adventurous in terms of where he has sex.

Does not engage in violence during sex.

Tbh I do see him being most likely to do some more “crazy” things in sex—like perhaps a threesome with another person he trusts (including men), maybe exploring him on the receiving end of penetration, and dips his toes into some BDSM things.

I think he’d be interested in both being the receiver of domination as much as being the dominant partner. I imaging he’d be interested in mild bondage (wrists and ankles tied, blindfolds, no gags—I think hearing his partner speak is important to him, and him having the capacity to speak is important too) and submission (full trust, denial, overstimulation). I don’t see extreme sadism or masochism being an interest at all.

His go to positions are missionary, being ridden, slow doggy style with his partner nearly lying entirely on the bed with just their hips raised.

Mike

The most easy going about sex. Has casual sex with women he meets in pubs, thinks nothing much of it.

If he is in a sexual relationship with a fellow Scout, then he seems the sort to be pretty risky in where he has sex. Cupboards, his office, sheds, maybe even the forest around the base—he likes sex to be fun.

Loves smelling his partner (duh), maybe even pulls a Napoleon and requests his partner doesn’t shower before sex.

The most he’d do “violence” wise during sex is spanking, maybe some hair pulling, but that’s it. I can’t see any of the men being extremely aggressive or demeaning.

On that note, perhaps the one to be most likely to be dirty in his talk—maybe calls his partner slut once or twice but always with a clear note of affection and even awe.

Unlike Erwin who I see being perhaps ok with exploring kinks, I don’t see Mike being eager to bring ropes and stuff into the bedroom. I think the thing that interests him is the carnality of sex—the passion that comes with keeping his partner quiet when they have sex somewhere they shouldn’t, the intimacy of going down on his partner for ages. He likes being free to touch them and them being free to touch him.

Fave position is probably standing. I see him enjoying crowding his partner in a dark corner, one of his hands covering their mouth, the other holding their hand, his face buried in their neck while his chest is pressed on their back and he shallowly thrusts into them.

Misc.

Levi would be the least eager to engage in a threesome or foursome. I doubt he’d ever request it but if he knew the proposed third/fourth and trusted them, he’d consider it. During the actual sex, he seems likely to stick to his partner, to avoid touching the third or fourth too much. He doesn’t mind them being there but doesn’t want to e.g. suddenly begin going down on them when his partner is there.

Erwin would be happiest to explore group sex. Probably from a voyeuristic angle—he’d enjoy watching his partner be pleasured by people he trusts. I see him as the most likely to have bisexual tendencies and would probably be interested in kissing and touching the third/fourth. Maybe less inclined to have full blown sex with anyone who wasn’t his partner.

Mike would be similar to Levi in that he wouldn’t necessarily propose group sex, but would not be so reluctant to the idea. But like Levi he’d stick to his partner, avoiding engaging too much with the third/fourth. Perhaps some kissing, heavy petting, conversation, but not much beyond that re: oral/penetration.

#mine #headcanon #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #mike zacharias x reader #snk

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demigod-shenanigans · 5 months ago

Note

Jason, Piper and Leo trying to play one of these elementary school jump rope games on the Argo 2

I was trying to figure out how to write this as a snippet however it’s been ages since I myself have last done a jump rope game and it turns out I have no idea what I’m doing so I hope it’s okay in headcanon/summary form instead! The good news is that way it’s gonna be a bit longer which I hope will be nice :)

-This is most definitely happening on the way from Camp Half-Blood to New Rome. Everyone’s got a lot of nervous energy and there is so much riding on all this and also Leo and Piper are about to meet Jason’s first family/former friends for the first time and everyone is stressed about it!

-Piper initially suggests it as a way for them to distract themselves and get some excess energy out. Leo is immediately down. Jason is just confused because he’s never done jump rope games before and asks if it’s a training exercise. Piper and Leo just stare at him

-Alternatively, if Jason is just pacing/wanting to be alone for a bit pre getting to New Rome, maybe Leo and Piper are doing it on their own at first (potentially like a Buddy Jumping thing where they both hold one end of the rope and try to jump synchronized. They’re very bad at it) and Jason eventually walks in on this and just stands there being all ????

-I think they have children’s games in New Rome to be clear I just don’t think jump rope is that common (also even if it was, Jason probably wouldn’t remember it due to the whole wiped memories incident combined with him being a child soldier/terminal workaholic)

-Either way, Leo promptly declares it’s his and Piper’s Sacred Duty to teach Jason jump rope games until they get to New Rome to help distract him

-Also for the record they’re not using an actual jump rope. Someone would have had to pack that and no one did. They’re using whatever kind of workshop rope Leo’s tool belt gave them when prompted.

-Piper and Leo swing for a bit and at first they’re really baffled that Jason seems to be way too good at this for someone who’s never done it before, until one of them is like hang on and suddenly notices Jason is just. Floating slightly above the ground so that’s why he has no trouble avoiding the swinging rope

-Jason does not understand what he’s doing wrong since he thought the point was just to avoid the rope. They explain it again and Jason is like “oh okay so it’s like a leg exercise thing I get it now” Leo has his head in his hands going “it’s not a training exercise dude it’s just for fun!”

-Jason is way worse now and also comments at least once that actually this isn’t even fun but he does kind of enjoy it and also just appreciates the distraction (he does totally still think of it as a sort of training exercise but honestly that probably just means he enjoys it more for that reason. Not that he’ll admit that to Leo and Piper tho)

-When Piper and Jason swing the rope for Leo, Leo keeps insisting that Jason use the winds to make the rope go faster because he’s good at this and wants to show off. It does not end well. Piper actually does better than Leo and he is very grumpy about it

-By the end of this whole thing they’re all in a heap on the floor tangled in the rope but they’re also laughing so that was totally worth it

#I’m imagining Annabeth finding them tangled like this #and Leo going ‘some help please’ but she just shakes her head bc she has no idea what’s going on here and doesn’t really care to find out XD #jason grace #leo valdez #Piper McLean #lost trio #headcanons #asks #anon #HoO #heroes of Olympus

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slasherholic · 2 months ago

Text

Disclaimer: This is a repost! I deleted then remade my blog (more on that here) and people have requested for me to repost some of my old fics as they have become unavailable due to my deletion. Enjoy :-)

Synopsis: Michael kills again. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, he seems to be saving the best for last.

Contains: graphic depictions of violence and death, Michael being a mean bastard

Note: this is the last chapter! there won't be a continuation to this story. I wrote this back in 2020 and my portrayal of Michael has since changed. I might give this concept a re-write in the near future tho, if people are interested :-)

End of the Line | Michael Myers x Reader | Chapter Three

(part one and two)

Sometime before Wendy’s hysterical wailing stopped and after the stench of bile dissolved into the background, Travis cut Ashley’s body down.

You shouldn’t touch her, Diane had warned him, but Travis insisted on it. He said he didn’t want to look at her eyes anymore.

You hug your knees against your chest and stare over at where Ashley lies face-down in a heap on the floor, a streak of blood mapping out the path where Travis dragged her by the armpits out of the dark red puddle, depositing her on dryer land, and you cannot say you blame him, not at all.

Ashley’s lids are not shut all the way. One of her eyes still peeks out from underneath long eyelashes, glazed-over and sightless, looking at nothing.

I’m sorry, you feel obliged to tell her out of courtesy; but you aren’t entirely sure what you are apologizing for, and the apology feels empty anyhow. Maybe Michael’s heartlessness is contagious.

Or maybe it is because every fiber of your lizard-brain is screaming in hopeful unison, better her than me. Better her than me. Better her than me.

The group sits now in a tight huddle on the floor at one corner of the dusty court. Travis holds Diane in his arms and stares blankly at the nearest basketball hoop. Diane clutches big handfuls of Travis’ shirt in both her slender hands and can’t seem to peel her eyes off of Ashley. Wendy, no longer sobbing, is the only one not sitting—instead she mills around aimlessly in front of the bleachers, pacing back and forth, following alongside the white out-of-bounds line. Sometimes, briefly, you turn and watch her pace.

Then you look away again and return to vigilantly scanning the unlit corners where the flashlights do not reach. You scan for movement; for an out-of-place shadow; for a shape creeping steadily closer.

Michael hasn’t left the room—not after what he did with Ashley’s body.

Like a hunter mounting a prize buck, he has taken meticulous care to display his kill. He knew that you would find it. He meant for you to find it. Now, you’ve given him the pleasure of observing your individual break-downs.

Of listening to Wendy sob and blubber, of seeing Travis clutch at his long hair and swear and punch the bleachers until his knuckles bloodied, of seeing you keel over and wretch on the ground. You are terrified. All of you. Michael knows this—he is lurking somewhere in those reaching shadows, unseen and unnoticed, drinking in that terror like a favored television channel.

You are entertainment.

To your left, Josh lifts his head out of his knees with a little sniffle, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He licks his chapped lips before speaking.

“Why’d he do that to her?” He asks in a whispery croak, talking to nobody.

You glance at him. Travis and Diane do too.

“Why’d he string her up like that? Why the fuck would he do that man?”

Because he’s playing, comes your internal response, as quickly as if you were reading from a script—because Michael’s actions are play. Because he’s trying to scare you shitless and it’s working. Because it’s fun and he’s getting off on it. Because he’s sick and twisted and evil and just not right; and so are you for needing him.

Diane shifts suddenly in Travis’ lap. She pulls away from his embrace and sits upright.

“It was a pattern in the Haddonfield murders.” She explains softly, absently tracing a pattern with her pointer finger in the dust on the floor.

“The bodies, see, they were all moved around from their places of death, and—and, um, displayed. It’s been happening all around the state, wherever there are mass killings. So that’s why people think Myers is behind all of them.”

She continues to trace her pattern and goes silent. The silence is contagious.

Near the bleachers, Wendy is still pacing. You doubt she even heard Diane’s statement. It’s probably for the best.

“Why don’t you siddown, Wend.” Travis suggests.

You watch Wendy walk over to the bleachers and sit. Then, as if the bench were crawling with ants, she shoots to her feet again—climbing up nine steps—plopping down onto the tenth. She stares at her knees and doesn’t move after that.

“Hey. You.”

You glance over your shoulder at Travis. His eyes are glassy and dull. He’s staring at you.

“So what’s your deal anyway, huh?” He questions, flatly. “Are you, like, some kinda adrenaline junkie? Exploring a place like this alone at night without a flashlight?”

His eyes glint with something bordering on suspicion.

“And you just… ran right into Myers?”

Josh and Diane turn their heads and look at you, too. You glance away from their eyes without meaning to and stare at your shoelaces. Shit; you’ll have to tread carefully here, very carefully; the truth will not keep you in these people’s good graces.

You breathe in deeply, slowly, before speaking.

“Believe me, it wasn’t by choice.” You begin, bundling your arms around your knees, tugging at your shoelace. “It happened so fast—I got home from the store, I got out of my car, I walked up my driveway. The next thing I know, I’m being grabbed and locked in the trunk.”

You shut your mouth quickly. It’s not a lie; it’s just not the whole truth.

There’s another moment of silence. You can’t look the others in the face. For a frightening moment, you can’t tell if they’ve bought it or not.

Then, Josh pipes in.

“How’d you get away from him?”

“I didn’t get away. He let me run. I think he wants a chase, before he…”

Your voice trails off. You glance up from the floor and make eye contact with Josh. His gloomy look tells you that you don’t need to say anything more.

From the bleachers, Wendy murmurs something under her breath.

“We can’t hear you, Wend.” Travis says.

You watch Wendy lift her head from her knees, staring right at you. Her face is an unhealthy color and her cheeks are streaked with tears.

“I said, maybe he just wants her.” She repeats with a sniff. “Maybe if he gets her, he’ll fuck off and leave us alone.”

Your stare-off with her lasts for an uncomfortable time. Wendy sniffs when the snot runs too far down her nose. You pluck agitatedly at your shoelace.

She’s right, in a certain way, your inner-voice chimes in. Michael does want you.

But some bitter part of you wants to tell her, He wants you too. He wants you Wendy, and he is going to get you, and once he’s caught you you’re going to beg him and cry until the tears won’t come out anymore, and guess what Wendy? If you’re lucky he’ll kill you quick—and if you’re not, he’ll do it slowly. If you’re unlucky, Wendy, Michael will kill you over the course of many long months, and it will hurt far worse than that knife would have, because by then you won’t just fear him, Wendy, but you’ll love the sick evil bastard too, he’ll make sure of it—and when your time comes those tears won’t just be terror and fear, Wendy, they will also be the coldest, loneliest heartbreak.

You are so lost in your spiteful fantasy that it takes you a moment to realize the room has gone deathly quiet. As if Wendy’s suggestion is a cool and logical point and not-at-all the desperate petitioning of a girl terrified for her life. As if offering you up to Michael like a sacrificial lamb is a perfectly sane thing to do.

But no, it’s really happening—you can tell by just their stern and guilty faces that the people huddled around you are seriously considering it.

You speak up for yourself before they get to thinking too hard.

“Alright, maybe he does just want me” You tell Wendy. “But what if you’re wrong? What if I die, and he just keeps coming? Wanna know what happens then?”

Wendy sniffles. She makes a face like you’ve kicked her in the stomach. Her eyes scrunch up like she’s about to cry again. You don’t care.

“If I’m dead, and you’re wrong, then you’re gonna be next.”

Wendy makes a choked sound and now she’s crying again. She buries her head in her knees and her body heaves silently.

At your exchange, Diane shakes her head in frustration. She clambers out of Travis’ lap and rises to her feet like there’s a fire beneath her ass.

“Alright, come on, everyone up.”

An awkward moment passes where nobody moves. She snaps her fingers in a huffy way.

“Come on, I’m dead serious! We’re gonna tear out each other’s throats if we stay here. We need a plan to get out.”

You gaze solemnly up at Diane, and some defeatist part of you says that it isn’t even worth trying. Michael will get what he wants. Michael always gets what he wants. It’s in his nature and he’s very good at it.

You clamber to your feet anyway, because Diane is right—wherever Michael is lurking in this vast, empty room, it is only a matter of time before he grows bored of watching.

And no matter how much your rational brain has accepted it, you do not want to die tonight.

One by one the others follow your lead, clambering languidly to their feet. Travis first, then Josh. Only Wendy doesn’t get up—from the bleachers, she murmurs that she can hear just fine from where she is.

You get to planning. It turns out that Travis is some kind of urban explorer, and he’s been to the school before. According to him the only exit (and entrance) that hasn’t been blocked off or boarded up over the years is the one they all came in through. The same exit that Michael drove you in through.

“That’s the way we gotta go.” Travis says to the huddle-up, like a football coach giving a pep-talk before the big game.

“We can get out of here—he’s just one guy right? I mean yeah, this is one sick motherfucker we’re dealing with, but he isn’t some boogeyman. Here, look.”

Travis bends, reaching for his hunting knife where it rests in his ankle holster, drawing it out, holding it in the air to enunciate his point.

“If he finds us, I’ll cut him. And then we just run and we don’t look back. Wend, come on. We can’t stay here.”

In your periphery you watch Wendy slowly untangle herself from her knees, rising off the step as though waking from an unsatisfying nap. She begins descending the steps.

Then she trips.

Her scream is jerked out of her as if yanked by a string. She topples in an instant, falling hard, the sharp clank of her head meeting the bleachers echoing in the vastness of the room.

Every head whips.

For a second it seems as though she’s only lost her balance. Then, every flashlight is trained on her like a spotlight. Your blood runs colder than ice water.

Beneath the bleachers looms a dark and imposing figure. The figure’s white face is ghastly in the harsh yellow beams.

Michael has been lurking beneath Wendy the entire time.

His dangerous hand penetrates the space in the steps, clamping like a vice around Wendy’s ankle, tugging with all his immense strength as Wendy screams and kicks at him, trying to pull her down through the gap. Wendy won’t fit.

She aims another frenzied kick at Michael’s hand. This time, the strong fingers are dislodged.

Wendy is on her feet again incredibly fast, pulling her leg out of the gap. She starts frantically down the bleachers, limping.

“Go!” Travis screams, at her, at everyone.

You go. It is a mad scramble for the far door. Travis half-carries Wendy, the two of them lagging behind.

You burst through the exit doors and Josh and Diane are in your wake. Behind you, Travis screams to hold it open, hold it open.

There is a single moment where you gaze back into the dark court and see The Shape approaching, cutting through the darkness like a ship gliding through water, utterly unstoppable.

Travis and Diane collapse through the doors. Immediately Diane swings them shut. She throws her body up against the wood.

“Hold them! Hold them!”

Everybody braces against the doors. The squeak of Michael’s bootsteps over the court booms thunderously, closer and closer, and then—

He kicks.

Your temple slams against the wood. The doors rattle horribly.

He kicks again. His force is explosive. Monstrous. Unbelievable. He does it again. And again. The onslaught does not stop or slow. Wendy screams. Josh is crying. Your combined weight won’t be enough—with every kick Michael is opening the door a few inches further.

Head whipping around, you scan the dark hallway frantically. When you see your saving grace you can hardly see it—the flashlights all hang in occupied hands—but squinting, you know that it is there and not some figment of your desperate imagination. Against the base of the opposite wall lies a thick slab of wood.

You scramble away from the door. Somewhere behind you Travis yells at you to “get your ass back here.” Plank in hand, you scramble back.

Michael kicks again. This time the doors open a little too wide, wide enough for his vicious hand to shoot through the gap. The hand closes around Josh’s hoodie and yanks him violently upward, sweeping him clean off his feet, into the air, effortless. Josh flails and screams.

Travis cries out and swipes at the hand with his knife.

The hand lets go, bloodied now, retreating through the gap again.

“Just a little longer!” You scream, and jam the plank through the handle bars. A tight fit.

Everybody scrambles away from the door. The thunderous kicking on the other side doesn’t slow—it picks up furiously, the doorframe trembling, the walls shuddering feverishly, and for a moment you are sure that Michael in his hideous strength is going to bring the very building down around you. You hold your breath.

But the plank holds dutifully. And the doors do not open another inch.

All at once, the kicking stops.

Everybody drinks in big gulps of air, and nobody moves for a while. Waiting for the dreadful moment when it all starts up again. Waiting for Michael to kick harder this time and deliver the final blow that will twist the doors clean off their hinges. Wendy makes little pained sounds from her heap against the wall. Josh whimpers and shakes like a leaf. Your hands are balled into white-knuckled fists.

…but the silence prevails. The kicking is over. Michael is gone.

Travis is the first to shake off the thick stupor.

“We have to move.” He says, gripping his knife. “He’s just coming around the back. We have to move.”

Wendy sobs in pain as Travis dips down and scoops her up beneath her armpit, dragging her hastily to her feet.

You run again—not alone this time, you think, but as a herd, a herd of terrified animals, barreling through the blackness as fast as Wendy’s injured ankle will allow.

Josh has a breakdown as you run.

“He was in there that whole time.” He keeps repeating, a skipping record-player. “That whole goddamned time, he was just watching us that whole goddamned time.”

“Stop it.” Travis pants between deep, gasping breaths. “Just stop it. I can’t take that anymore. He can’t catch up. We’re gonna be fine. As long as we just. Keep moving.”

All at once there is no more hallway. You’ve reached the end. You double over in a pant, planting your hands on your knees.

Travis was right—there is a door here. Diane shines her flashlight up at it, illuminating the glass pane, and through it you can see the hallway on the other side. Your eyes go wide in recognition.

There, beyond the door, down the hallway, you can see your car, and the pale moonlight filtering in. Your heart leaps into your throat. You can see the exit. Then, you look a little harder and your heart sinks again.

On the other side of the door a blockade of desks and chairs is piled high, a cruel barricade.

Travis shrugs Wendy onto her own two feet, who grimaces as her ankle grazes the floor. He lunges for the door handle, pulling back and forth savagely, as hard as he can.

There’s no give.

He pounds his flashlight hard against the glass in frustration.

“Fuck!” He shouts, his hot breath fogging over the glass. “Fuck! This wasn’t here last time! Fuck!”

“Are we stuck?” Wendy sobs.

“Most of the classrooms have two entrances, don’t they?” Diane asks. “There are open hallways on the other sides of all these rooms, right? Travis, isn’t that right? We can cross through one! They can’t all be blocked!”

Travis locks his hands together on top of his head, shaking it profusely.

“No, no. Most of the classrooms are locked up.”

“Wait.” Josh’s voice trembles, hoarse from crying. “Wait, I think I saw an open one.” He jerks his thumb into the blackness behind you.

“Back there.”

Josh is right; you saw it too. It was a blur, it happened so fast, but yes, you’re sure of it—one of the classrooms had been wide-open.

“You think?” Travis asks. “Or you know? Because “think” isn’t gonna cut it right now, man!”

“He’s right.” You interject. “I saw it too. It’s maybe three-hundred feet back.”

Travis looks from Josh to you. Then back at Josh.

“You guys are positive? Totally positive?”

Both of you nod.

“Okay. Okay, let’s move.”

Wendy, supporting herself against the wall, utters a thin little cry, as if the thought of that is too unbearable to even imagine.

“No! We can’t go back that way! He’s down that way!”

Travis ignores her as he scoops her up beneath her armpit again.

“Jesus Wendy, look around! We’re trapped if we stay here!”

Wendy blubbers in response, her face a red, snotty mess. But it is enough to get her moving.

Your dash back down the hallway is even madder. The flashlights swing about the hall, strobing in the dimness. Your lizard-brain screams obscenities at you as you run.

Predator this way, danger this way, wrong way, turn around, turn around!

You shove each and every one of them aside. Just run.

“There!” Diane yells, jamming a finger out in front of her. Twenty paces ahead, to the right of the corridor, sure enough, there it is.

One classroom door is wide open.

You reach it. Immediately you notice what you hadn’t in your dash up the corridor: the door isn’t just open, it’s ruined.

The shabby thing hangs uselessly on its hinges. The metal all around its frame is twisted and warped. A dreadful feeling settles like a suffocating blanket.

This isn’t right.

“Woah, careful.” Diane says, shining her flashlight into the room. Peering cautiously inside, you know in an instant that it’s some kind of science classroom. The black lab countertops are covered now in a thick blanket of dust. Chairs and upturned desks are strewn about the ground like warzone debris, their metal legs jutting out like bayonetts at every angle.

“Take it slow.”

Travis shuffles into the room first with Wendy attached at his hip, helping her step carefully around the minefield.

“Travis?” You ask after him in a breathy pant, still hovering at the edge of the room.

“What.” He says flatly, out of breath himself.

“All that shit blocking the door back there, none of that was here last time?”

“No, it wasn’t. Can we focus please?”

You ignore him, the gears in your head cranking.

“Okay, okay. So there’s only one hall that still leads to the exit? And it’s on the other side of this classroom?”

Travis has already crossed half the room. Josh and Diane follow close behind, trailing at his heels like ducklings.

“Yeah,” He calls back over his shoulder. “Look, I’ll tell you all you want about this place as soon as we’re ten goddamn miles away, now are you coming or not?”

No, this isn’t right. None of it is. The barricaded door is not right. The broken lock just isn’t right, dammit, it’s too convenient. Too…

Oh. Oh. Ice water floods your gut.

It’s too deliberate.

The pieces fall into place.

This is Michael’s doing. All of it. He’s been to this building before. He’s been tampering with it.

This classroom is not a lucky break, not even close—it’s a choke-point. An ambush.

It’s a trap.

You open your mouth to scream. Travis and Wendy step through the doorway at the opposite side of the hall.

Out of the shadows, the black shape lunges.

You watch the ambush from the opposite side of the room, a useless, frozen statue.

Michael’s knife catches the beams of the flashlights and the gore there gleams. He swings it in a powerful arc through the air at Wendy. Denim rips harshly.

With a piercing scream Wendy falls forward into the hall. Travis sprawls backwards into the classroom, unbalanced himself, but springs up again like a cat, pulling his knife from his ankle-holster as he stands, lunging at Michael, swinging blindly.

Michael’s hand strikes faster than a cobra. He catches Travis by the wrist and shoves him with ghastly strength. Travis flies backwards, skidding on the floor, his head colliding with the nearest desk in a heavy thud.

Michael’s bloodied hand closes around the doorknob. He yanks down on it savagely. The knob strains for a moment—the metal around it whining and groaning—then snaps clean off. His red fingers grip the side of the door, and with a lunging step back into the hallway, he slams it shut behind him.

On the other side, Wendy screams hideously.

Travis is on his feet again now, scrabbling madly at the door, trying to pry his fingers between the metal frame to wedge it open. It won’t.

He pounds his fist hard on the glass and yells,

“Run Wendy! Just run!”

You watch through the glass as Wendy clambers painfully to her feet, limping away from Michael.

Michael, vanishing back into the blackness, takes the chase.

Travis begins a mad dash back out of the room. He leaps over table legs and pushes past you in a blitz, erupting into the hall.

“This way!” He screams behind him, already sprinting. “Come on!”

Josh and Diane lap at his heels. You follow orders as blindly as a soldier in a warzone.

Travis takes a sudden right, skidding around a corner. Then, windmilling his arms to stop his momentum, you see him screech to a halt. As you catch up, you can see why.

It’s an intersection.

“Which way?” Diane gasps, doubled-over in a pant.

Josh points his flashlight at the floor.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.”

You follow the light of his beam and see the blood, a shuddery trail of heavy droplets. Wendy’s.

Travis flicks his light down the corridor to your left. On the wall is a sign that reads “POOL” in big blue letters.

“Down here!”

Travis is off again, following alongside the bloody trail like a hound. Diane bounds after him.

Josh does not. He stands frozen in place, his chest heaving rapidly with lack of breath, gazing down the hall after the retreating figures. He glances at you. You make eye contact for a split-second.

Josh turns on his heel and starts sprinting away in the direction you just came. His footsteps get fainter. Then they are gone.

In an instant, you are alone again. All alone in the dark. Alone and rooted in place. Your feet won’t move.

Get out, says the lizard-brain. Get out now while he’s distracted, run back to your car, drive away into the night, keep driving for a long time, don’t ever look back, live in a new state, run away from him, survive, survive, survive.

A tightness blossoms in your throat. You feel about to cry again. You can’t leave; you couldn’t even if you wanted to. This place is a labyrinth in the dark and you do not have a flashlight. If you dash back into those barren halls, you will be blind again. Stumbling and helpless again. Easy prey.

Travis knows the building. Travis is your only chance at escape. Travis is your single hope of living to see the sun come up. The lizard-brain considers these possibilities, ignoring the defeatist chanting of your rational brain <no point all over Michael is going to kill you> turning them over and over, before demanding all at once that you un-stick your feet and dash after the lights bobbing down the hall.

Run, now. Before they fade into the black, gone. Run. Go.

You turn on your heel and run like hell.

For every ten limping strides she takes, Wendy’s next step is a stumble.

She sprawls on the floor and skins one knee bloody.

She gets up again, but oh God, her hip is on fire. Ahead of her is swallowing black nothingness and behind her is death. Every gulping wheezing breath sucks stale moldy air into her lungs but she’s too numbly frightened to care.

The pounding footsteps echo behind, and oh, please no, he’s still coming. Her body is strong and her legs are thick and powerful from a lifetime of athletics, but the pain, she can’t take it. The painful thudding in her ankle will not bear weight.

Why is he still walking? Why won’t he just catch up? She’s sure that he could if he wanted to.

Is this another game?

Now she sees a faint light up ahead, seeping through a door. She swerves left across the hall, falling as she leaves the support of the wall, crying sharply as she falls, picking herself up again in a flurry of arms and legs—she pushes through the doors.

Beyond them is a pool. A big bright moon dances on the surface of the stagnant black water. She looks up. There, she sees the stars. The building has a glass roof. She takes a gulp of air and gets a whiff of a dank, sour smell, so much worse than the hallway. Rancid.

Limping forward again, she moves quickly to the nearest door in the wall. Reaching the door, she yanks on the handle and steps through, and—

Oh, why her? What did she ever do to deserve this?

It’s not another room at all. It’s a stairwell.

Behind her, the doors clamor violently open. Her head whips around. At the sight of him, she is nearly frozen in place—that black looming silhouette, the hideous white face—this is a nightmare, Wendy thinks, it must be, because boogeymen aren’t real.

Doesn’t matter, the nightmare is getting closer. She shakes off her daze and begins to climb.

The stairs are steep and she winces hard at every slam of her foot down on the cement steps. Up one flight she goes, around the sharp bend, up another. Her busted ankle knocks against the cement which triggers an explosion of pain up her leg. Her hands are cold and clammy now, just as clammy as the railing. She is pulling herself more than climbing. Below her, she hears his boots on the steps, climbing after her.

She’s reached the top, and here is another door. She collapses through it.

She must have done something really terrible in a past life, she thinks, staring out at the space behind the door. She must have done something downright wicked to deserve this. God must be punishing her for it.

It’s just the stadium seating above the pool. Three meager rows of three bleachers and a rusty metal handrail. No other way down, except over the edge. She’s trapped herself.

Oh, but she has to keep moving. He’s coming up the last flight.

She huddles into the far corner and presses flat against the handrail. Leaning on the cold metal with her hip, it stings her bloodied skin like dry ice. She turns around, eyes rotating wildly, and watches the dark figure stepping out through the door.

Death stares her in the eyes, towering and faceless.

The Shape approaches.

Ten seconds behind Travis and Diane, you erupt into the pool building. Inside they stand fixed in their places, gawking up at some unseen thing.

Joining them, you see what they are gawking at. You gawk too.

Jutting out from the wall above the pool is a platform with rows of seats. Cowering at the far corner of that platform, gripping the railings, dread setting her face like a stiff, pale, gaping corpse, is Wendy.

Michael is closing in fast.

Travis and Diane scream at her to jump. Jump into the pool, they yell, in desperate chorus.

Wendy looks frantically over the railing—the drop must be thirty feet. But they are right; it is her only chance. Michael will be on top of her in seconds.

You watch in cold horror as Wendy scrambles desperately up the side of the railing, rising to a stand on the top bar, preparing to jump—

—she slips. Her foot slips on her own blood. The railing is covered in it.

Her hands fly open and snap shut again, grabbing at the air, scrabbling for purchase at nothing. Diane utters a sharp scream of surprise.

Wendy plummets like a stone; straight down to the cement.

The crack is sickening. You see a piece of bone erupt through her shin. Your jaw is slack and your eyes are round. Her wails are agony. She writhes on the cement and you can’t look away. You wait for Travis to go to her, to do something.

He doesn’t. He’s white as a sheet.

From the stadium above, Michael peers over the railing at Wendy. He watches her for a moment as if inhaling her fear. Devouring it. Then he turns, disappearing back down the stairwell.

He reappears at the bottom of the steps to stalk slowly toward Wendy.

Wendy sobs and screams as he approaches; she tries to crawl away from him, still trying to reach the pool. You can almost hear her fingernails scraping over the cement, the meaty squishing of her ruined leg dragging awkwardly, uselessly behind her.

You are about to see it, you realize all at once—you are about to witness with your own two eyes just what kind of monster Michael is.

Michael reaches Wendy and his shadow consumes her. Stooping down, he seizes Wendy by her hair and sweeps her with ghastly ease to her knees.

The world around you has melded into a dizzy haze and you feel like you are underwater. You can see—but not hear—that Wendy’s mouth is moving, begging and screaming. There is a grotesque moment where Michael lets her scream, and you think that the world has stopped turning and frozen on its axis. It is just Michael and Wendy, now; just the monster you despise and fear <and love and need>;

and the girl he is about to slaughter.

The world starts turning again as Michael plunges the knife through Wendy’s throat.

The steel erupts out her skin on the other side along with a geyser of blood. Wendy gurgles and bubbles, coughing, but not really, it can’t even be called that anymore; it is a wet meaty wheeze, a deathrattle.

The light is gone from her eyes as she falls limp.

Michael pushes the back of her head hard. He shoves her carelessly forward. She slides easily off his knife, collapsing. The red spreads quickly out around her on the cement.

Michael studies his kill. His shoulders rise and fall slowly, inhumanly steadily. Fresh glistening red drips off the tips of his fingers as easily as water.

Suddenly, he turns. His white visage peers across the room. Your heart pumps away in your throat at a hideous speed.

Michael is looking at you. Not at Travis. Not at Diane. You.

The mask is hideously penetrating, devouring. You watch him back and your mind is silent. Your body is paralyzed. You wait for something within you to change—perhaps for the hole in your chest, the hole that needs Michael, to knit suddenly shut. You wait, and drink in the evil staring back at you, the dark shape that looks human, but on some level is not.

There is no change.

With a broken, savage scream, Travis shatters the silence.

Michael’s head turns. When his eyes are gone from you, you start to breathe again. He seems to study Travis intently, observing the outburst as if transfixed, fascinated.

Almost contemplatively, Michael looks back down at Wendy’s body on the floor.

Then, lifting his boot, he wedges it beneath her side.

You look on in stunned silence as Michael kicks Wendy’s lifeless body over. Rolling her closer to the pool.

It is obvious to you what he is doing, bitterly obvious. You’ve been on the receiving end of that behavior more times than you can count. It is sport, yes; play, yes; but it is not just play. What Michael is doing is far, far more heartless, far more deliberately, calculatedly cruel—

—this is taunting.

This is rubbing salt in an open wound. This is pettiness for pettiness’ sake. Michael is taunting Travis like a schoolyard bully.

And Travis takes the bait hook, line and sinker.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH HER!”

Deaf to his screams—or more likely saturating himself with them—Michael does it again. He shoves his boot beneath Wendy’s back this time, disgustingly gentle, as if she were a glass figurine, and flips her on her stomach. He flips her again, onto her back. Again, onto her stomach.

He rolls her to the lip of the pool, and Travis only rages harder.

Wendy’s body teeters on the cement ledge. Her arm flops limply down, wrist dangling in the murky water. Michael, planting his boot down on her side, lifts his head again. The awful white mask peers across the way at Travis—screaming, raging Travis—who shreds his voice raw with every spitty syllable.

With a final, lazy flick of his boot, Michael sends Wendy spilling over into the filthy water.

The body lands with a plop and a splash. It bobs for a moment, sinking then, slipping beneath the grime, gone, except for the ripples spreading out, disturbing the stagnant surface.

In Michael’s hideous stare, you can feel his wordless goading.

“Look; she made it.”

Travis collapses to a heap on his knees and beats the cement.

Michael watches intently. A shudder travels the length of your body—even without seeing his eyes, you know that look. It is vicious predatory amusement.

Then, all at once, as if compelled by some invisible force, Michael’s head whips around. Glancing over his shoulder, he goes rigidly still.

Your jaw clenches up tight. He’s heard something. He’s listening, picking up a fresh scent.

As if forgetting about Travis in an instant, Michael turns. You watch the dark figure stalk around the side of the pool, disappearing through the doors at the opposite end. Gone again.

Travis rages. He screams at Michael to come back, because he is going to kill him. He screams all sorts of obscenities and his voice has begun to crack. Diane watches, hugging herself tightly, crying without sound.

Eventually, his screaming peeters out. Travis falls into silence, spent.

Nobody moves for a while. You watch the ripples in the water until they stop. All is still and quiet again.

Diane looks up at you. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. She looks at you longer, and something changes in her eyes, some jarring realization; then, with huge and frightened eyes, she looks past you, out into the hall, and glances all around her.

“Travis?” She says, the panic rising in her voice.

“Where’s Josh?”

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #slashers #writing #horror #fanfiction #slasher x reader #halloween

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letitrott · 3 months ago

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Bowers Gang x Goth reader Part 2 ~ Kill your fears ~

IF YOU CHOSE MATH CLASS

Will Leave link to part 1 at the end this is a CHOOSE YOUR OWN STORY!!. Thank you for ready xxx

Warnings: Testing your personal space and bullying

Reader: You made you way to the your next class room. Your weren't heaps fond of maths but you weren't terrible at it.. You arrived early so you sat down at the back of the class and popped your earphones in. Teacher: All right students my name is Miss Twinkelbottom and today we will be blah blah blah standard algebra blah blah test is on Friday. Begin Reader: You let out a sigh before opening your maths book and starting to scribe and doodle around. There was no better way to pass the time. *Till you noticed a presents next to you and a hand come into view. It was also holding a pen and started drawing. You glance up to see a blond haired boy the one from before.* Victor: Hey *he smiled shyly* Reader: *you kept your motionless expression* Victor: *brushed his hand over where henry had grabbed at your hair it was a little sore still, you nose scrunches a little* Reader: *you frown before softly swatting his hand away* Victor: *persist this time he moves a little closer brushed your bangs behind your ear* Reader: *you snap at him* Can you stop. Victor: ...I'm sorry about before. We don't get girls like you around here. I hope I didn't make you feel any kind of way. Reader: *you studied his eyes they looked very soft and passionate almost* Well you didn't really do anything.. Victor: I hope your head doesn't hurt too much. Hey! What are you listening too!? Reader: Haha have a listen blondie *you grab an ear phone brushing a hand over his ear before popping it in* Victor: *gulp looking at your lips and shivers at your soft touch* Reader: *you noticed the blondies longing gaze* If don't like it feel free *you place your phone under your maths book* *You and the blond boy continued to scribble and listen to music trying to hard not to get carried away. You lay your arm and head on the table. The blondie did the same tho you noticed him playing more attention to you than the doodling.

Reader: *you smirk before pouting your lips at him Victor: *jumped out of thought before blushing and turning around to look the other way.* Reader: *you move your foot till you touched his under the desk* Victor: *looks back at you before nudging you playfully* Miss twinklebottom: New Girl!! Reader: My name is Lilith.. Miss twinklebottom: Lilith what is the answer to this question.. *thwacks* point to a scribble on the white board. Reader: The answer is 25 Miss bottom *The whole class snickers and giggles. You smirk as Miss twinkel scowls before turning around and going back to teaching.* Greta: Since when did the goonies come to Derry... Sally: *snickers* Yeah isn't halloween in November Reader: Shouldn't you girls we sucking on some Mc coffee frappae's or something (I live in a Aus its an Aussie joke if you get it you get) Miss Twinkelbottom: QUITE *thawacks* OR DETENTION!! Victor: *whispers* Don't let her bother you... *his voice sounded surprisingly husky. Reader: *both you and Greta still keeping your glaring contest. Till you notice her eyes drifting to the side no doubt looking at the blond boy* Victor: *side eyes greta planting small soft kisses on your neck* Reader: Hey!! *your eyes widened as you were about to protest* Victor: *covers your mouth for a moment before brushing his thumb over your lower lip* She can see the way we look at you. Reader: So am I just a pawn in some messed up love triangle and who is we!? Victor: NO. Greta is insecure and jealous. They all are...its fun to annoy the snobs. *THE BELL RINGS* Reader: *By now your a blushing mess, quickly packing all your stuff away, you turn around bumping into the blond boys chest* Victor: *holds you for a moment planting a kiss on your head the same part his hand brushed over before.* I hope you feel better *before walking off probably to catch up with the gang* Reader: *you failed to notice Greta and Henry watching you from afar.

WHICH DO YOU CHOSE!!! Follow Victor (click me) Leave by yourself

Click me to read Part 1

#victor criss x reader #victor criss #it the movie #it 2017 #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers #bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins x reader #belch huggins #greta bowie #lemon #oneshot #fluf #choose your own story #choose your own adventure

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f-imaginings · 3 months ago

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Going through your Ao3 bookmarks after you posted them… the RotG stuff makes so much sense! Did you ever write any Blackice yourself?

I loooved rise of the guardians and blackice so soo much!!! I drew some art, did a tiny one shot and had a blackice roleplay with a friend but the fanfics that held my heart in a vice was @not-poignant 's take on the pairing. They had two major blackice fanfics that live in my brain rent free, one was a brilliant dystopian military au with world building that made my brain do a flip it was so good, and the other was a sequel sort of fic from the movies exploring what happens to Jack after Jaimie dies and exploring why it impacted him more than it did the other guardians and the events that followed once his death shone a light on the true extent of Jack's loneliness.

It was that fanfic that gave me a million mental epiphanies and changed my life and I went back to reread it every year like a tradition to evaluate how my mental health had changed and where I was at now. I resonated with Jack's loneliness and invisibility a lot, especially given how I felt in my family and how things shook out somewhat neglectfully in my past relationship. Since working on myself through therapy and being in a loving attentive relationship I get to see the growth I've had mirroring that of Jack's. Their writing style inspired me greatly, especially how they handled characterisation and character motivation. No scene is wasted. I especially loved how they used every sex scene to either further the plot or reveal something crucial about the characters and the situation developing. They're a top notch a tier aussie writer (a fellow Aussie!) and I highly recommend you to read their fics and shower their work with some love! (They've got some great original works too!) (I'm a big fan lmao I cosplayed their characters, drew art, all the fun stuff)

For people who are fans of Billford and the whole "king of nightmares" schtick, blackice I find can be a softer sweeter version of it without the worshipful dynamics or the toxic betrayal moments between the two. It's basically the boogeyman Pitch Black with mischievous winter boy Jack Frost. It's still got the "join the dark side" elements ("It's not too late to join me"/"what goes better together than cold and dark") and both pairings play on the whole "they are both lonely and one is trying to play on that to sway the other" with world domination stakes although Billford is leaning harder on the manipulation side of things to achieve this (Pitch tries manipulating but it comes off as more of a sales pitch than the degree of cruel manipulation Bill does) there are aspects of the whole nightmare king powers that can be fun to see (reading ones fears vs mind reading) and for fans of the whole corruption/bad ending trope there is a lot of fics out there where Jack gets corrupted into a nightmare boyo like how Ford becomes a henchmaniacs/Bill's right hand/Bill's pet (yeah I see you out there lmao) ect, for folks on board for a bad guy gets redeemed fic tho there are heaps more of those for Pitch since he's actually a hot noble single dad in a lot of cases. His apologies/acceptance comes a lot more naturally BC technically he did bad things BC he was possessed, Bill definitely does not have that excuse.

Anyway I've rambled for a long time but basically anyone who enjoyed reading KMKY and wants to read something amazing while waiting for the new chapter (which I'm working on haha might be done just after Xmas) then definitely read not-poignants works. I promise you they are very poignant and will give you the sort of cathartic cry you got from chapter 34 and 50 of KMKY.

#i got so excited when i saw this ask #yes a chance to ramble about an author that inspired me to write #and a chance to ramble about another pairing i was super keen on #i remember back when i did sw even i convinced a client to buy a blackice themed bit of content #i called it how to catch a cold lmao it was a lot of fun

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yanderefarm · 4 months ago

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idk if you're into alien stage so ill try not to infodump but silvan would be a rlly nice fit for this au (bc in this show, human pets are entered by their alien owners into a singing competition and they have to win to survive. the cruelty of the concept kind of lends itself to darling and silvan. also bc i remember u saying silvan can sing hehe)

but even if ur not into the show, it just led me into thinking... im not sure if the prospect of entering ur pets into competitions (kind of like a dog show?) exists in vampire darling's universe. but if it were, i can imagine darling investing a lot into silvan's talents by signing him up for classes and buying him the best performance clothes, and even incentivizing silvan with intimacy so he gives his best. especially if it were something like singing, where silvan has to be careful with his voice with darling bc he has an upcoming performance.

it also plays into prior concepts of dehumanizing silvan where you can just treat him like a showpiece and parade him and his awards around. his "glory" from contests are seen as achievements of his owner instead

idk if this makes sense tho, it sounded better in my head sorry 😓

- 🍮

i have not seen alien stage no

but dude i love this yeah. i always love the idea of making the vampire pets do shows. tbh in my original concept every pet of a high ranking vampire was basically required to learn some kind of special skill that would make them more entertaining at parties. singing and dancing obviously but the original concept for the yandere pet was an interest in fashion so he could braid female vampires hair and compliment them on their outfits and become a little lady's boy. another pet was very knowledgeable about politics and was good at holding intelligent conversations with other vampires (but nothing too smart just like the equivalent of a child knowing a little bit about politics and everyone goes woww!! so smart!!). another was really skilled at wine tasting and had a fancy palate. things that would seem fancy and exquisite.

i think making them learn more showy skills to show off in contests is fun. like i imagine it more like a really dehumanizing beauty pageant. like silvan is brought out on stage in various outfits, drained of his blood for taste test, and then asked humiliating questions. and finally he preforms his song maybe with a little bit of dancing. he always gets either high up or wins he's a very special boy!! everyone loves to heap compliments on you for training such a good pet.

i think that also lends well to the dark side of vampire pets too hehe

#replies #yandere pet #🍮 anon

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weekend-whip · 2 years ago

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Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 2

Prompts: AU+Movieverse/Jay Recs! *vibrates at the thought of Jay content*

AU/Movieverse Recs:

if you could date any of the ninja, which one would you date?: Lloyd experiences the world's worst second-hand embarrassment and the rest of the ninja absolutely are not helping. Not actually shippy, just really funny and Lloyd has a (mostly) light-hearted hard time.

Reference Letters: Kai is tasked with recruiting some fresh talent to the Secret Ninja Force, and what starts as a joke to welcome Lloyd Garmadon into the squad turns into a genuine crusade for his friendship. The Green Ninja, however, is having none of that. (It goes exactly how you expect it to and gah it's beautiful. Kai and Lloyd duo forever!)

Who's the New Guy? He Looks Awfully Green: Movieverse fic in which Lloyd is the last to become a ninja, and the last to learn everyone else's identities. It's full of team-bonding (collectively and one-on-one!), hilarious Wu moments, and Movie!Lloyd being Movie!Lloyd ;w;)/

Jay Recs:

Unfortunately, You're Amazing: Jay faces the dilemma of *maybe* possibly kinda sorta having a small little totally non-consequential thing for Samurai X. But beyond that Jay just gets to be his dorky, smart, snarky, easily impressed self and it's so fun and delightful to read, I go back to it all the time!

Play to Win: An au/ canon divergent whump fic where Jay and Cole are roped into a round of Scrap-N-Tap...and that description does NOT do it justice, but if you like emotional tension, a heaping of personal distress, and a Jay who is unfortunately one step ahead of everyone else, you'll love this. Probably not for the faint of heart, definitely for the angsty daredevils (such as myself)

Jay and the Important Differences Between Spider Pokemon: Pokemon AU that explores Jay's "perplexing" fear of spiders post S6. A fascinating and fun idea for a plot, plus, there's Pokemon. it's all good stuff!

And She Wore Blue, Right?: Jay starts suddenly having reason to look into who his birth mother is...was. Hits just right for people who've always wondered how the show might have tackles this little interesting conundrum.

turtle or the hare: WOW I forgot I read this one aaaaaaaa BUT Jay inadvertently meets his bio mom in a rather...expected place. God their personalities are so similar yet mesh so well hnnnnnnnng (we could have had it aaaaaaall)

Jay and the Deafening Sound: ...this one's mine BUT I've got all three categories covered—extremely about Jay, takes place in the movieverse, and has shades of my legacyverse au to boot <3 Not-so long story short, Jay finds himself up against the main faction of the Shark Army all on his own and finally has a good excuse to pop off with his powers <3

this doesn't really have a title but it IS really very good: A scene or so where Jay and Kai spat over caring for each other too much and it's just such a beautiful depiction of their relationship, rocky tho it may seem ;w;)/

The Fantastic Mr. Walker: All these years later and it's still my favorite Jay-related thing to exist. Really gotta re-read it again so I can be delightedly distressed all over again <3

#unfortunately i don't read a lot of au's #and there's never enough jay content so feed me today pls #ninjago #the lego ninjago movie #ninjagon fanfiction #fic recs #ninjago fic rec week #jay walker #tlnm

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fisherpiers · 1 year ago

Note

Hunter coming out to Luz as bi

OKAY here i am like over 6 months later LMAO

like whattt? im not dead?? i know, i know. my deepest apologies

i have already written him coming out in flapjacks with syrup so if you want more go read that too not to self promote agskgjjghh (i will be updating that soon just saying 👀)

but here’s some headcanons!

lemme see, theres so many ways for this to go. lets entertain just a couple tho lol

scenario #1

its july and luz is getting/making pride merch for everyone bc shes trying to make it a thing on the isles. at least a little holiday. perhaps a parade? itll be fun!

and she realizes she has no clue what hunters deal is. is he straight? aroace, maybe. that guy is married to his work.

shes trying to keep this pride thing a surprise so she asks him nonchalantly like “hey broooo i was just wondering. whats your sexuality. a friend wanted to know.”

and he bluescreens

“uh. i— i dont know, actually.”

he never really thought about it. hes always been too busy being attracted to them books lmao

he has to get back to her in two business days at least 😂😂😂

he basically spends those days spacing out and scaring his classmates by intensely staring at them.

hunter discovers that he generally feels the same about any gender. and he didnt really have a preference when imagining his future having a wife, husband, or partner. as long as they made him happy

and everyone was really pretty. hexside had quite a lot of cute witches and demons

but honestly, he still didn’t really find himself wanting to start a relationship with any of them (gee wonder why)

he chalks it up to the fact that he’s focusing on his studies and apprenticeship right now and has no time for romance

besides, if he had a partner, he’d have even less time to spend with luz his friends

he finds luz up in a tree behind the owl house, nose in a book. shes so focused on the story that she doesn’t even hear him approach

“LUZ!”

“WHA—“

she was so startled she fell put of the tree. hunter tried to catch her he really did but they both wound up crashing down to the ground in a heap

oof

luz shoved him off her, laughing “first you give me a heart attack and now you try to crush me? i thought we were friends now, hunter!”

“sorry, sorry,” he wheezed as he rolled over in the soft grass

luz went and retrieved her book from where she accidentally threw it, “so what did you need me for?”

“oh, i just wanted to tell you i think i figured out my sexuality now, like you asked,”

“thats okay. i didnt mean to presure you so you dont have t—”

he sat up, “im bisexual,”

liz gasped “OH SWEET, twinsies!”

she got matching bandanas for them. cowboy vibes lol

luz did successfully get the annual pride parade set up in the isles. hard to say no to her shes a force of nature and also kinda a celebrity now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

scenario #2

luz has just assumed he’s gay

bc they often talk about guys they think are cute. like if theyre at the mall food court (without the hexsquad) and see any hot guys they are thoroughly checking them out and giggling like school girls

its not something she can do with amity (obviously), vee or willow. plus, she trusts that hunter isnt about to go squealing to her girlfriend about her attraction to men she has no plans on pursuing

its a good bonding activity, okay. if you cant thirst over cute guys with your bestie are they really your bestie

alas, because of this, luz never reads too much into the moments they have together. hunter let a hug linger a little too long? he lets her eat off his fork? puts his arm around her on the couch? just friendly behavior. its not like he likes her or anything. bc hes gay right

anyway. theyre like, at a chinese restaurant picking up takeout for the gang and the cashier is just adorable. miss teen connecticut. the cutest girl ever. they both stutter their words and awkwardly fumble around while picking up this order. hunter almost dropped the food and luz signed her name as Liz Noda on the receipt

they get out of there and start laughing once they reach the car

“guess its bi disaster hour am i right?” hunter joked

luz laughed but then it hit her

“wait. you like girls?”

hunter looked at her confused, “yeah?”

“oh…” she trails off,

and hunter starts the car and drives off, not even giving the conversation a second thought

meanwhile luz is dead silent in the passenger seat like

she be rethinking everything agsjfjjhh

OKAY SECRET 3RD SCENARIO!

tboy!luz au :3

okay so luz is scared bc he’s finally worked out his gender. he’s a guy.

its what pushes him to break up with amity. its amicable at least

and so as luz moves on with his life, and starts falling for hunter, he’s scared hunter wont like him now bc he’s trans

and once hunter finds out about that, he’s putting a stop to it fast. like:

“dude. im bi. i dont care if youre a boy or a girl. youre luz. and i like luz.”

and they live happily ever after the end agajdjjg

#lunter #goldenlight #huntceda #fish fics #asks #fisher.txt

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ohtomatotome · 1 year ago

Text

Getting There is Half the Fun

Word count: 6.8k

Recipient: @violettduchess as part of the Ikemen Prince Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen

Characters: IkePri Keith Howell and MC (Emma), established relationship

Prompt: Something fluffy and lighthearted, maybe a trip together. It would be fun to see something not go according to plan and how they handle it. SFW, a little bit of spice.

Triggers: N/A

Content Warnings: Alter!Keith makes a couple of appearances, young children, kissing, depression, mention of sex (not depicted), mention of marriage. It is all fairly tame; just heaps of fluffiness.

Author's Notes are at the end of the story

“Isn’t this the most whimsical thing you’ve ever seen? What a vivid imagination this artist has!”

Emma’s delighted tone caught Keith’s attention immediately. He came over to see the painting she was admiring. The couple were browsing decor in a shop situated near the crossroads of Rhodolite and Benitoite, filled with fine exports from sea-faring merchants. The framed piece in front of Emma was done by an artist who hailed from the border between Obsidian and Achroite.

Keith came to stand beside her and pointed at the painter’s signature, explaining, “I’m a little familiar with this man’s works. He doesn’t depict make-believe or fantasy. All his paintings are based in nature, and he paints them on site. This … oh, this piece is certainly not imagined…”

His voice trailed off in a wistful sigh. She gave him a questioning look. She had never seen him go all gooey over art before. Stars and herbology, yes. But a painting? There was something special here, she could tell she was about to uncover another secret treasure buried in Keith’s heart. Emma nodded, encouraging him to continue.

The glimmer in his golden eyes sparkled brighter as he explained the natural phenomenon known as the Aurora. Astronomers theorized the shimmering ripples of bright green are waves of light bouncing off the particles in the sky, or maybe they are chemical reactions happening at the cosmic scale.

“How I wish I could glimpse it with my own eyes, even if just for a moment.” The enthusiasm that had fueled his explanation soon was replaced by a tone full of yearning, his dreamy gaze on the painting once more.

“But why can’t you?”

“The lights are only visible near the north and south poles of the planet. I would have to go many days worth of travel just to see even a smidge of them. And even if I was in the right place, I’ve heard the conditions have to be just right: low humidity, no clouds whatsoever, no wind, a crescent moon is best… in short, unless one lives in the perfect area and searches the sky every night of their life, seeing an Aurora in one’s lifetime is not likely. It’s like trying to hunt the rare and elusive white stag of Jadean legend.”

Emma waited until Keith was exiting the shop to secretly purchase the painting with her own money and arrange to have it shipped to the palace in Jade. Few things had ever made her lover’s eyes fill with the hungering ache she just witnessed. Even if he would never see the sight with his own eyes, this artwork would have to suffice.

Then she began to wonder: Why couldn’t he plan to see it in the future? What’s stopping him? What if she were to put the plan in motion herself, and surprise him?

—-------

An invitation arrived for the royal family of Jade, requesting a representative of the governing body to attend a special conference hosted by Achroite in the north. As soon as Keith offered to go, Emma saw this as her opportunity to enact her plan. Skillfully, deceitfully, and delicately, she plied various tactics and reasoning for letting her accompany him.

Keith didn't quite understand the motivation behind Emma's attempts at joining his journey north. However, he wasn't going to deny her when there was such bold determination in her warm eyes. He was never any good at telling her 'no'.

Triumphant at her victory, Emma packed her trunk and bags with thoughts of dancing green lights in her head, only to be outshone by the spark in her prince's eyes when his wish was granted.

—-----

The fastest travel route was straight north through Obsidian. That also made it the most dangerous. Keith wasn't about to put Emma's life in danger to save a few days of travel time. He planned a route northeast by carriage to the sea port in Benitoite, sailing north on a luxury cruiser, and then west by carriage through the mountain pass to Achroite.

He looked over his map and itinerary one last time, a soft smile hiding the growing confidence he felt each time he examined his plans. It would be their first time traveling so far, and would be a test to how well they can bear the burdens of a long journey with limited resources. Keith had decided this trip would be the perfect opportunity to prove to Emma that he was capable, reliable, and could take care of everything.

His usual companions of gloom and self-doubt had been visiting more often during this year of peace. The period of calm also meant there was less necessity for Alter!Keith to make an appearance and save the day. However, that absence made it all the more poignant when Emma would cajole him out simply because she wanted to spend time with him.

With lots of time on his hands, the anxious voices in Keith’s head ran rampant without an exterior distraction to keep them silent. But now? Traveling to the conference was just the thing to challenge himself and keep the depressing thoughts at bay.

He patted the side of the carriage before climbing aboard with a smile, "Easy travel, good roads, and plenty of time to relax along the way. Why, we could almost treat this like a vacation!"

—-------

Famous. Last. Words.

'Vacation' would have been the absolute last word to describe the comedy of errors hounding every leg of their journey.

The first thing to go wrong was one of the carriage wheels broke as it hit a deep run left by the late summer rains. It happened right inside the Jadean border before stepping over to Benitoite. The only living souls around were all busy in the rye fields. After convincing one of them to put down his scythe long enough to talk, Keith discovered with dismay the small group of people he was looking at was the entire village. It was a very isolated place that relied on every able body to help with the harvest. That group included the wheelwright: Keith and Emma's only hope of getting back on the road before dark.

Keith offered to take the wheelwright's place in the field. The hardy villagers barely held their skepticism behind polite faces.

"The wright can thresh twice as many sheaves of rye as anyone else. You'd be taking one of our hardest workers. Besides, t’is no time to be gabbing about. Lookit those rain clouds headin’ this way. Our work’ll have been wasted if we can’t get the rest in the barn before the drops fall. Beggin' yer pardon, but a prince ain’t no replacement for the wright."

Keith wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. Spurred on by necessity and the desire to impress Emma – and perhaps the bruised pride of being passed over without even a chance to prove his worth – he picked up a scythe and jogged to the row needing mowing.

He shrugged off his coat and went right to work, speaking over his shoulder to the wheelwright, "I'll do your share here if you fix the wheel. And I'll pay you triple the usual amount. Do we have a deal?"

He never broke his rhythm as he talked, taking a broad arcing swing, smoothly slicing the stalks in front of him, and moving forward with a quick grace rarely shown by the first prince of Jade. Muscles rippled across his back as each successive swing gave him more confidence. The villagers were shocked into silence.

"Y-Yes, your highness. Thank you!" The wheelwright touched the brim of his hat in courtesy, amazement on his face. Emma glanced sidelong as the villagers who now all raced to pick up their scythes and attempt to keep up with the prince.

Tales of Keith's kindness and willingness to help commoners with even the most mundane tasks had spread across his kingdom long before this. However, the additional detail of how strong and muscular he was never accompanied the rumors. 'He sure showed them! Well, that ought to fuel their gossip through the winter," she thought giddily to herself as she headed towards the end of the field to help with tying the sheaves. Emma was pleased and vindicated on her prince's behalf, proud that his people had found new respect for him.

—-------

After that encounter, it was supposed to be smooth sailing. Quite literally. Only … the mishap with the wheel and then the afternoon’s rain muddying up the roads put them far behind schedule. They missed the luxury cruiser. It disembarked from Benitoite the day before they reached the docks.

With a sullen face, Keith booked their fare on a north-bound merchant ship. Emma knew that face too well: it meant he was disparaging and beating himself up inside. She knew it would do no good to convince him right this second that he couldn't control the weather. She'd wait until they had a quiet moment together to soothe his nerves.

The trouble with that plan was that peace and quiet were impossible to find on that busy ship, not to mention privacy. They shared sleeping quarters with the crew’s family, swinging in hammocks at night and sitting elbow-to-elbow with eight noisy people below decks during the day.

There was one moment of peace, though. It occurred above deck at night when the sea was glassy smooth and the crew wasn’t throwing mouthfuls of curses at one another. Keith hugged Emma from behind, whispering just a tad louder than the wind whistling past them, “I don’t know how I’d get through this ordeal without you. But at the same time I feel like the worst person alive for bringing you on such a doomed voyage. I'm sorry you’re with a jinx like me.”

She leaned into him, turning her head so the breeze wouldn’t snatch her words away, “Darling. There’s no such thing as bad luck. Where you go, I go. And that’s that. I love being with you, no matter where it is or what is happening.”

—-------

Finally having landed just east of the mountains bordering Achroite, Emma thought they could relax at last. A coach was hired easily, and they were well on their way through the mountain pass. That's when they heard a series of muffled THUMPS behind them.

Alarmed, Keith had the coachman stop the horses as he took a look at what made the noise. Almost every one of Emma's bags were on the dusty road, clothes strewn about.

"Wha….what happened?? How….?!" She felt like crumbling onto the rocks and crying. How could this trip get any worse? She bit her lip to stop the wobbly tremble that threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

The coachman came over and looked at the shredded leather casings of her bags, nodding, "Oh yah, this is old leather. It's no surprise that the salt air on your sea trip had weathered it and made it too brittle to withstand much more abuse. S'too bad, it is. But there's an expert leather worker just ahead."

They wearily gathered up her belongings and did their best to stuff it into Keith's luggage. His was supple, well-treated leather that showed no signs of damage from the sea voyage. Emma inner thoughts were cruel for the ride to the village, reminding of the gulf between their backgrounds, status, and financial situation. Feelings of inadequacy crawled angrily across her heart. 'Of course. Of course the poor little orphan girl has crap for baggage – why would someone like me ever need to travel? No one expects someone like me to ever go beyond her front door.’

Fortunately, the leatherworker was home. Unfortunately, he was forced to watch his young children because his wife was recuperating from a severe illness at her sister’s. He met them at the door bouncing a screaming baby in his arms while a toddler on unsteady feet clutched his pants leg. His face was apologetic, “I’m awful sorry, I am. But with the missus gone, I can’t leave the house. I tried keeping ‘em in the workshop with me one day to see if I could get any work done, and it was a disaster, heh.”

Clenching her fists in frustration, Emma took a deep breath while trying not to despair. “If you can’t repair my pieces, do you have any luggage completed that I can buy right now?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t do my business like that, makin’ stuff that might sell ‘someday’, I only take on jobs that will pay me when the work is done.”

Both Keith’s and Emma’s faces were crestfallen. They knew they could buy luggage once they get to the capitol city, but it was still a long ways to go and her belongings were getting dustier and dirtier by the mile. They muttered their thanks, turning to go, when the leatherworker suddenly made a sound like he just remembered something. “By any chance is what yer needin’ is just the fastenings? Like the straps around the bags and such? Because I do have those ready-made.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what broke. That’s all I need replacing!” Hope filled Emma’s voice and face and she stepped up the stairs again towards the little cottage. Emboldened by this promising possibility, she brushed up her prettiest smile and offered, “How’s this? I’ll watch your little ones while you repair my baggage, and we’ll pay you twice the going price.”

The man blinked, glanced past her to where Keith was still waiting by the coach, as if to silently ask ‘Are you okay with this arrangement, buddy?’

She turned around and gave him an optimistic ‘thumb’s up’ gesture with a big nod to encourage him t agree, “Right, my dear?”

Keith was gazing at his beloved with open admiration. He nodded, “Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea.”

They sent the coachman off with enough gold to ensure he’d come back to get them later than evening. While the leatherworker took the ruined luggage into his workshop, Emma introduced herself to the children. Besides the baby and the toddler she had seen at the door, there was also a 5 year old inside. Hours went by as the couple played games, told stories, and fed dinner to the kids. Both of them had wildly giddy sweet thoughts running through their heads of how capable and adorable the other one looked in this parenting mode. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say ‘baby fever’ had taken root that very day. From this moment on, Keith in particular was prone to falling into daydreaming about their future family.

—------

At long last they reached the Achroite castle without further mishap. As they unpacked, weariness settled in. The long journey and many unforeseen hardships were at last taking a toll on the young couple. Keith took a seat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He patted the space on that mattress next to him, gently calling “Emma? Come take a rest.”

“But I’m only halfway done with putting away my things…” is what she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was in the middle of pulling out another sweater from her bag when she felt warm hands glide from the top of her arms, down to her hands, freeing the fabric from her grasp. Keith set the garment on top of the luggage just as Emma’s shoulders slumped. She turned to face him and sagged against him with a sigh, while he bent his head to place a kiss against her hair. She gave no resistance when he led her to the bed.

The sky darkened as they lay on top of the crisp sheets, snuggled together in a drowsy heap. “We can’t fall asleep…” her drowsy voice was muffled against his shirt, “...or be late to dinner.”

“...we won’t…but, hmmm…” Keith’s lethargic murmur turned almost sour, “what if … would it be the worst thing in the world … if we just stayed in bed?”

Emma squinted a bleary eye at his face, trying to discern if, in fact, Keith had already dozed off for a second and allowed Alter!Keith to slip into consciousness now. That reply sounded an awful lot like something the other one would say. Oh, what did it matter? She was too tired to really care which one was beside her at the moment; she loved them both equally.

However … it would be rude of them to be absent at the first gathering of the conference. And then they’d have to make apologies to their host, which was not an attractive prospect. Prince Matthias didn’t seem the sort to forgive easily, no matter how small the slight. She didn’t want to be the cause of an international incident right at the beginning of their stay.

“Nnghh… no,” She struggled to rouse herself into a sitting position, and jostled his shoulder in an attempt to keep him awake. “We have to get ready.”

Moody citrine eyes opened to give her a scathing look. Well, that made it clear who was at the forefront now. “Don’t ya think he’s earned a rest?”

Emma expected any sort of objection from Alter!Keith, but not this tactic. His words gave her heart a warm squeeze, just as they did any time he showed consideration for his other side. She also realized he knew about this weakness of hers. Was he trying to exploit it for the sake of a nap? She rolled away off the bed and went to one of her open trunks for a fresh gown.

“Tch. That’s sweet of you to show concern. But it’ll mean more trouble for us later if we don’t get moving now. Decide which one of you is going to be on the surface for this meal. It will be lots of socializing and politics.”

Suddenly deja vu from mere moments ago danced over her memories as a warm presence moved behind her and hands slid down her arms. This time, however, they belonged to a very handsy prince. His words gusted hotly over her ear, “Mmm, I’ll stick around long enough to help you undress. He really oughtta be present for the boring – I mean, important stuff.”

—-------

As much as they yearned for one another’s intimacy through the week, the conference schedule kept Keith busy all day, and social obligations kept the pair busy in the evenings. By the time they were alone and could have enjoyed one another in private, exhaustion demanded it was time to sleep.

A few times Keith had asked Emma how she had kept herself occupied during the day, and received very predictable answers such as; visiting the town market, strolling in the conservatory and greenhouse, socializing with the other noble ladies. And reading, of course. She never went into detail of any of the sights she had visited or conversations she had had. Usually Emma was full of chatter about the things that had filled her day. Keith decided not to pry and merely attributed her quietude to the demanding schedule rather than her being evasive on purpose.

What Emma was actually doing was reserving a cabin rental and preparing for the most romantic and memorable viewing of the Northern Lights ever! The cabin would have the groceries stocked and firewood ready by the time they arrived. All they needed to do is show up and enjoy a few days' rest away from the hustle and bustle of the conference. This was the real reason Emma had begged to come along on the journey in the first place.

After that hellish trip north, they needed a relaxing break now more than ever. Her chest warmed at the thought of being able to give her beloved prince a special memory like this. If only nature and the heavens would cooperate to give them a once-in-a-lifetime show, that would make it truly perfect.

The night before the conference ended, Keith heaved a sigh as he began to fold clothes to go back into the bags.

“Darling? That was a rather heavy sigh. Is anything the matter?” Emma’s sweet inquiry washed away the layer of fatigue that had covered his soul. He paused to look over at the bed where she was flipping through a cookbook of traditional Achroite foods. With a book; in her natural habitat. Keith’s soft smile was full of adoration at this comforting sight. He often wondered how it was possible for the simple act of looking upon her in repose was enough to give him his own sense of calm.

—---------

It reminded him of the first time he had encountered the odd phenomenon, on her first visit to the kingdom of Jade:

As he showed her around the palace, she asked to see his personal chambers. Worried had plagued him, thinking it would be awkward beyond measure and she’d find fault with everything. However, when he watched her step among his belongings, inquisitive fingers trailing over the spines filling his many bookshelves, eyes lighting up at seeing the keepsakes decorating his bedside table, he realized with surprise that his anxiety had been utterly unfounded. In fact, the sight of her in his room, among his things, gave him a deep sense of peace.

A warm blanket of contentment and resolve settled around him in that moment, as if he was being told ‘this is right, this is good’. It felt so very natural to have Emma there at all hours of the day and night. Having her near was a balm like no other. He had mused on the mystery of it: If he was struggling with a letter at his desk or fretting about an upcoming meeting with bureaucrats, all it took was to look up for the fraction it took to see her with a book perched at his window seat or sitting on the couch. His heart was eased instantly. Her presence was a wonder drug to his perpetual paranoia. Wherever Emma was, that was ‘home’ for him.

He floundered without her presence. His soul required her like a tree needed sunlight.

Alter!Keith was in the same situation, though for different reasons. He needed Emma to stick around because her deciding to stay sent the message that he was worthy of notice, of love. That he deserved to exist.

Neither side of him could never admit this to her, though. His reliance on her would only highlight his ignomy and patheticness. How utterly weak would he appear to her if he confessed he needed her just to get through a day without a panic attack?

—------------

Her miraculous effect was the reason he hadn’t required much persuading to allow her to join him on this trip. Prince Matthias was an imposing figure whose presence in a room was nearly as oppressive as Prince Chevalier’s. Keith was glad to have his own personal ball of sunshine to help him survive the stressful conference. Without her warm kisses in the morning and her sweet voice at night, he was sure his nerves would have been frayed beyond measure before he returned to Jade.

He basked in her soothing oasis a moment before answering her question, “It feels as though there hasn’t been a moment of true rest during this excursion. I realize it wasn’t intended to be a relaxing getaway, but it would have been nice to just have a day to spend with you. To sleep in and enjoy breakfast in bed, or stay up late trying to glimpse the Aurora, or have the leisure to browse their castle’s extensive library. And now we have to be back on the road tomorrow. At the risk of sounding petulant … it isn’t fair. I’m bone-weary, Emma.”

By the time her name was on his lips, she had gotten up and moved to stand beside him, small arms around his thick torso, forehead pressed to his broad shoulder. He soaked in her serenity for a few heartbeats, nearly crumbling under the immense gratitude he felt for her love and support.

She broke the harmonious silence first, “Isn’t it a good thing, then, that we don’t have to go home just yet? We can extend our trip a little longer.” There was a playful lilt to her words, obviously inviting him to inquire into her meaning.

Keith turned within the circle of her embrace to face her with a quizzical lift of his thick eyebrows, “Did the royal family invite us to stay past tonight? I hadn’t heard of this.”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together in a smile that was eager to burst forth with the news. Emma was determined to keep the surprise until the last moment when they arrived at the cabin tomorrow. Then she realized his anxiety might burrow needlessly under whatever cute evasions she gave now with a smiley ‘Just you wait! You’re going to love it!’. Wouldn’t it be less cruel to tell him now instead of risking him worrying himself into a fit? Why not give him the choice: divulge the secret, or be left in the dark?

She grinned impishly up at him, “Oh, we are staying in Achroite for a little while longer, but not as Their Majesties’ guests. Would you like to be surprised? Or shall I tell you all about it now-o-OHH!”

Keith had picked her bodily off the floor in a bear hug, squeezing her last syllable into an excited squeak as her feet left the floor. He laughed heartily as he spun her around with ease. “Emma! Give me all the details. Packing can wait!”

Energy recharged as he held his beloved ray of light within his arms. He could hardly believe his amazing luck. Had she really planned something to help him relax before they started the arduous trek back home? He lowered her to the bed, brawny arms pressing down the mattress on either side of her, face bearing down on her with a smile sanguine and imploring.

She giggled at his lack of princely composure and laced her hands around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss, “You know the days I've been going into the market and village? That was to prepare for three days of relaxing at a cozy little cabin just an hour’s ride north of the castle. It’s stocked with food and firewood and everything we need. And the best part?” She paused to land a little peck on the tip of his nose. “It’s the perfect place to watch the Aurora.”

Emma paused, holding her breath for his reaction.

She finally had to exhale because he was silent for so long. “Darling? Keith? Are you not excited for the trip?’ A moment ago she was ready to dissolve into happy giggles, but his reaction now had her nibbling her lip.

“...You planned all this? By yourself? For me?” His questions were hushed, awestruck.

With a slow nod, Emma resumed her smile, “Not just for you. For us. I’m going to be there as well, silly!”

She finally giggled as she watched his face change from surprise to delight. The grin on his handsome face was dazzling, but she only glimpsed it a moment before he leaned down for a kiss, which she gladly returned. He trailed little kisses down her jawline, and she continued answering his questions between happy sighs. “And … you know, it wasn’t too much trouble to prepare. After all, I should get some practice, don’t you think? I’ll need to know how to plan much greater events … at some point in the future…”

Keith caught her hint squarely in the chest, and was glad to have his face hidden in her neck so the blaze upon his cheeks would be unseen. Inwardly he berated himself for the thousandth time for not having the guts to clear the way for Emma, a commoner from Rhodolite, to become his wife and Queen of Jade. He couldn’t propose until he knew the path would be easy for her. Yet he wasn’t going to start the official process until he was sure that was what she wanted – that he was what she wanted. It was a catch-22 that was a sure way to spiral into despair if he thought about it too long.

Of course the two of them were madly in love, and they spoke in terms of ‘always’ and ‘forever’ when expressing their feelings.

But they hadn’t ever sat down and plainly discussed the future.

What Emma just said now was the closest either of them had ever come to a proclamation of their intentions for marriage. He couldn’t swallow the fact that he had been too feckless to say something before Emma. Now that she had been brave enough to be the first one to break the ice, he couldn’t hesitate any longer. But oh, how he loathed for her to see his face like this: sweaty, nervous, pathetic!

He moved his lips to her ear, giving it a quick kiss before whispering with a tone that flowed with love and hope, “It’s my dearest wish to put you in that position, Emma my beloved. I didn’t want to come across as presumptuous. Or … maybe I simply lacked the courage to speak to you about it before. Or … or –”

He was interrupted by her hands dragging his face up and her lips seeking his. She kissed him long and hard, not letting go until several seconds had passed, then huffed out, “Keith. I’ve felt you wanted to marry me. I could tell in every action, every look, every touch. But hearing you say this? Hearing that you want it just as much as I do, just as much as I always thought you did? It puts my heart at ease to know, with certainty, that you feel the same as I do.”

She held his cheeks firmly as he tried to look away, forcing him to return her gaze. He saw nothing but kindness swimming in her eyes. She waited a beat longer, holding his gaze before continuing, “And that’s enough for now. You don’t need to rush into … well, anything. The wheels of monarchy creak along slowly. You don’t need to do it alone, though. I’m here to help, to support, in whatever way you need. And that’s all there is to it. Alright?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in chagrin, already finding another fault in himself no doubt. But he nodded regardless because he believed her. A feeling of triumph and pride soon overtook his usual shame. This conversation was a true breakthrough! She wanted to marry him! He wanted to marry her! With elation, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, eliciting a moan from Emma. As his lips left hers and he began to nibble down her neck, he asked, “This cabin, you said it quite a ways from here? Does that mean it’s isolated? Not in a village? No neighbors?”

Fingers roved through his sandy hair as she gasped at his adventurous kisses plunging down her collar. She endeavored to think and answer at the same time, “Mm-hmm. I think so. I didn’t – hmm ah! – didn’t see any other buildings around.”

She was about to follow up by asking why he wanted to talk about this now, when there were obviously other things the two were thinking about. But suddenly she felt Keith smiling against her cleavage, and he glanced up at her with a devastatingly hungry look, saying, “Good, then there will be no one close enough to hear us. We can be as loud as we want.”

—----------------

Their first evening at the cabin was full of excitement. The snug little building was cute and clean, if a bit sparse. There was a distinct sensation of ‘playing house’ for the couple as they went about getting the bedroom ready, cooking dinner, and getting the hearthfire going.

While they ate, they talked over all the misfortunes the trip had entailed: Broken wheel, missed ship, horrible sea voyage, ruined luggage, lost time, and extra expenses. Yet when they remunerated all the bad things, they were able to point out good things that came out of each predicament. The rye was harvested in record time, Keith’s good reputation was solidly implanted in that village, the wheelwright was able to afford much-needed upgrades due to Keith’s generous payment, Emma’s baggage was now better than ever, the leatherworker was able to afford the expensive medicine his wife needed.

There wasn’t anything positive they could come up with to say about the merchant ship, until Emma suddenly remembered, “There was that night you held me from behind, keeping me warm and whispering the sweetest things in my ear. Remember? On the deck? The night sky was full of stars. The steady sound of the prow sloughing through the sea will stay in my head forever, just as that memory will. I remember thinking: ‘It doesn’t matter if I’m on a floating palace or a rickety fishing boat. As long as Keith is with me, I’m content and I’m where I need to. All I need to be happy is Keith.’ And I don’t think I would have encountered such strong, resolute determination if I hadn’t been in that situation. The foul odiousness of that ship contrasted so starkly against the purity and strength of having you next to me.”

Keith wanted to cover his face with his hands to hide his blush. He really couldn’t stand the way she heaped compliments upon him, and had the audacity to say it with such a sincere smile! He quickly turned the conversation back to reflect on her merits. “You were amazing with those children. I would never have thought to strike a bargain like that, nor could I have done that all by myself. You’re a natural. I loved watching you holding the baby…” he cleared his throat and barreled on, switching the subject, “That just goes to show that you are the one who cares about helping people, and are resourceful, and reliable, and kind, and capable. And everything I wish I was.”

With a self-deprecating smile, he reached across the table to hold her hand. She squeezed his, ready with a rebuttal to help buoy his self-esteem, “Darling. You are all those things. Hasn’t this trip shown that? Together, we can overcome anything. I couldn’t have done any of this on my own.”

Keith had to admit that he was only able to jump into action when the wheel cracked because he was intent on keeping his Emma safe. In fact, the desire to prove himself capable in her eyes was the driving motivation for enduring all the mishaps on the trip. If he had been by himself, there’s no telling how well he would have fared. But with Emma there to support him and be the reason he needed to ‘man up’, he knew her words were true: together they could overcome anything.

They had decided to go to bed early and wake up a little after midnight because the locals had said that was the best time to view the Aurora. Due to the odd hour, it was Alter!Keith who unexpectedly awoke in the middle of the night. He walked to the door that led to the balcony and looked through the window at the sky. Grumbling, he let the curtain fall closed again and climbed back into bed. Emma stirred awake at the movement, sleepily calling out, “Keith? Is it time to go outside?”

“It’s me, not him. And no, there’s nothin’ worth looking at. Whole damn sky is covered with clouds. If it had been the right conditions, I woulda let him switch over because I know he wouldn’t want to miss it. But ...” He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her hips to pull her flush against him as he continued in that gravely sleep-soaked voice, “I think I’ll let him sleep a little longer. You, though, aren’t gonna get much sleep tonight, sweet cheeks.”

—-----------------

Long after the sun had risen, the couple slept late to thoroughly enjoy the laid-back schedule. Keith was first to arise; he noticed the new pink marks the other man had left on her skin in last night’s pleasures. He sighed regretfully, more for having missed the chance to enjoy her himself than for missing the Aurora.

That night they resumed the same pattern as before, with going to bed early and planning to wake up after midnight in hopes of seeing the dancing lights. Luck was on their side that night! The humidity and wind were just right, the sky was clear of a single cloud, the moon was just a tiny sliver. Keith excitedly woke Emma, then wrapped themselves in thick boots, hooded cloaks and then in more blankets before settling on the bench outside on the balcony. The mountains were visible on either side, and the broad flat valley and its bubbling river spread out before them, creating the perfect stage for the heavens to put on an unforgettable performance.

“Oh. My. Word. It shimmers like a magic trick!” Emma breathed the words, mesmerized.

The couple sat transfixed, silent for nearly twenty minutes as the bright green glow warped into misty shapes, faded, and lit up again as vertical shards of light wavered across the sky.

She snuck a peak at Ketih’s face, which was awash in the verdant hue of the Aurora. His eyes sparkled, a childlike look of wonder writ across his features. He noticed her staring, and looked her way at last with a wry smirk, “You’re supposed to be watching the lights, my dearest. Not me.”

“I’ve got two eyes. I can keep one of them on you while I take in this amazing sight.” She grinned and snuggled closer to him, to which he responded by wrapping an arm around her waist to impart more body heat.

“It would be a shame to waste even one of your precious eyes on me. You can look at me any time. But this rare phenomenon is something you may never see again.”

Her cheek nuzzled his shoulder as she gazed skyward once more, letting out a contented hum, “We could always come back here? This would make a cozy spot for our honeymoon.”

Keith’s hand flexed tightly around her hip at the word ‘honeymoon’, mirroring the way his heart was squeezing. He softly muttered, “Or sooner than that,” as his thoughts drifted to the little jewelry box stowed away in one of the shelves of his dresser back in Jade.

It contained his great grandparents’ rings. They were originally part of the collection of family heirlooms, but had never been treated like the great ornate pieces of the crown jewels because they were not that impressive. There were modest gold bands with a few small green gems. Their unassuming beauty and elegance reminded him of Emma. His grandparents had had a fairytale romance full of joy and love, a rarity for royals. Ever since he had decided he needed Emma in his life, he had hunted them out of the collection, tucking them away for the eventual proposal. Keith hoped that maybe just by wearing them, his grandparents’ legendary luck in love would rub off on him and Emma. He pictured himself sitting out on this balcony in the near future, with a ring in his pocket, waiting for that perfect moment.

He had been a standstill for too long, fettered by indecision.

Soon it would be time for him to finally take action.

(This is the daytime view the couple would have had from their balcony in Achroite)

Author’s Note: This story was partly inspired by my own recent failed attempts to watch the Northern Lights with my husband, lol. With Keith’s love of astronomy I thought a rare cosmic phenomenon would be on his bucket list, especially being situated so far away from either of the globe’s poles. I had the entire story outlined and was well on my way with the narrative before Keith’s route was released. Of course I started reading it the say it was out, but I was only on chapter 20 at the time I finished writing this, so if anything is wildly OOC for him or Alter!Keith, I apologize. However, it is very satisfying to see that as I got that far in his route, most of the inner thoughts and outer reactions I wrote for him were things I later on saw in his route. Yay! It’s so nice when that happens. I really hope @violettduchess like this. Thank you for asking for Keith; he is a true treasure. I had so much fun taking on this assignment for the exchange.

#ikemen prince gift exchange #ohtomatotome #ikepri keith #ikemen prince keith #keith howell #ikepri mc #ikepri emma #ikemen prince fanfic #my writing #my fanfic

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