#I'm not going to turn off the Haunted House Residential because it's not usually THAT annoying

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then it was Family Dinner Time! I had everyone head down to the kitchen (Victor and Smiler taking advantage of their teleports, while Alice super-speeded and Marm hovered), then Alice and Victor each grabbed a plate of turkey while Smiler had some plasma fruit and Marm sat at the table, just happy to be included. XD Everyone proceeded to have a lovely chat over supper, with Victor expressing his thankfulness to Smiler and Alice hers to Victor while one of the cats snoozed nearby. :) I do love it when I can coordinate some proper family time for this lot!

After two plasma fruits and some invigorating conversation, though, Smiler decided they wanted to go dance to their radio again – as everyone was pretty much done with the grand meal, I allowed this and sent Marm to play yet more chess while Alice and Victor shared a few final words over the last bites of their supper. Victor finished first and transportalated upstairs to have a shower and hit the sack, while Alice gobbled down the rest of hers werewolf-style and got put on plate-cleaning duty. I then checked in on Smiler and decided to have them check the latest video trends – which just so happened to include singing videos. An idea sparked in my mind, and I turned to their streaming drone –

And then realized “oh hey, there’s a battery upgrade on here I never finished.” So I had them start that first –

-->Only for them, and everyone else, to get interrupted by the house making spooky noises. *grumbles* I think that’s my least-liked part of living in a haunted house – the fact that every time it makes a noise, every Sim stops what they’re doing to freak out. You’d think they’d just get used to it after a while! *shakehead* Though I suppose I should check to see if any of them have the “Brave” trait – maybe that would help?

-->Anyway – once everyone was done having their “what was that??” moment, they all resumed their activities as per my directions. Alice cleaned up the plates, then let out a somber howl to reduce her Fury before heading to the barn to cut the amethyst she had on her into a spire so she could charge it and help her and Victor recover their energy sleeping even faster; Victor watched the fish in his and Alice’s bedroom for a bit before heading back to bed; and Marm went and took a nap on one of the front porch couches (I was like “sir, your charge need is BARELY DEPLETED”). And Smiler finished the battery upgrade on their drone before stowing it in their inventory –

And then flew into their party barn loft area to set up a recording of them singing some pop music on their big-ass karaoke machine! :D Because what the hell, I thought it was fun. :) I left them powering out the tunes while I peeked in on the others –

-->And found that Alice had once again decided showering in the rain was better than doing what I’d told her to do. I huffed and had her go back in and resume her spire…

And then promptly had to send her out again because her werewolf instincts were insisting she be outside, whoops. Which was fine, because as it turned out, shortly thereafter the house made MORE spooky noises, and everyone was knocked out of their current activities AGAIN. *rolls eyes* Once the freakouts were once again over, I had Alice go back to cutting her spire while sending Marm to play more chess (had to get him up to Logic level 3 for his aspiration) and Victor to start a new song on the piano (I’d had him scrap the old one because I was half-sure it was bugged). Smiler I just had end their video (I mean, when the house itself is commenting on your karaoke, it’s time to stop), then head back to their room to load it into the video editing station for, well, editing. XD They got through the initial edits and adding effects (while I tried and failed to have them do some last-minute “Being Thankful” with Victor to quickly fulfill that tradition – for some reason, they kept insisting they couldn’t teleport into the study in bat-form) –

And then Harvestfest ended, and with it, the playsession! I wrapped up with everyone having had at least a DECENT holiday (Victor, Alice, and Smiler all got “Awesome,” while poor Marm got “Over” because they could only fulfill two of the traditions – you’d think a Servo would just ignore the “Grand Meal” one because, well, SERVO, but nope! But he was happy enough to ignore the “Decorate” tradition because he’s Lazy, go fig), and Alice having successfully created her amethyst spire, getting up to level 4 of the Gemology skill in the process, nice. :) I put that on the grid to charge, sent her to bed, and left it there!

And that is that! Whew – long session to be sure, but a good one, I feel. :) Next time, we clean up the last of the mess left by those damn gnomes (who at least all ended up back in the greenhouse where I can easily move them back to where they should be), and get ready for another food sale, this time in good old Copperdale! See you then!

[cowboy-turtle]

Bump in the Night

Part of CT's Halloween Spooktacular

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!Reader

Words: 2.8k

Tags: Smut: oral (f receiving), unprotected piv; horror: general spookiness from a haunted house

A/N: The last installment to the Halloween series! Releasing this one kind of late (aka unbeta'd), but it's still October 31st in my timezone so I'm counting it. Happy Halloween!

Masterlist | Taglist

“There’s no way that place isn’t haunted.”

Your halting footsteps slow you down from the group, Marcus’s delayed reaction of your joined hands tugging him back causing him to turn to the building in question. The wrought iron gate creaks in the wind, windows boarded shoddily and paint peeling down the sides. As if on cue a tumbleweed bounces across the dead lawn, and all that’s needed is the swelling organ music and clap of thunder to really sell your point.

You’re in a different neighborhood downtown, Missy insisting on trick-or-treating here because they hand out full-size candy, and this abandoned Victorian house sticks out of the residential street like an estranged cousin to its cookie-cutter counterparts.

Marcus nods, reaching out to grip one of the fence posts. “Definitely haunted. What do you think is inside?”

“Hurry up!” Missy shouts from the corner before you can answer, waving her arms at you while her group of friends approach a new driveway. She’s dressed as Wonder Woman, and though she begged Marcus to dress up as Max Lord (we look nothing alike, he insisted at your teasing laughter) you’re both costumeless, Marcus donning his usual thick-rimmed glasses and leather jacket he lets you borrow when the crisp autumn air begins to bite. You’re also warmed by his arm around your shoulder, trailing behind the cluster of preteens as you share a thermos of spiked mulled cider, going house to house until the porch lights begin to flicker off.

You’ve just dropped them all off at one of their houses for a sleepover, Marcus plucking a king-sized Reese’s from Missy’s bag as payment for driving them, when he looks over at you with a quirked brow.

“Want to go check out that haunted house again?”

You laugh. “Couldn’t get enough of it the first time?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “no better time to go explore it than on Halloween.” You have to bite back a smile at the eager adventure etched into his face when you relent and give him a tiny nod, hands turning over each other on the steering wheel as he pulls you into a U-turn.

He cuts the engine when you’re back at the house, fallen leaves scattering across the sidewalk as you hop out of the car. A little girl out much too late past her bedtime watches you, her outfit a perfect costume to be straight out of The Shining if she only had a twin. She scuffs her foot against the pavement, tilting her head at you. You’re about to ask her where her parents are when she speaks first.

“You’re going to die in there.”

A chill races down your spine but Marcus pays her no mind as she skips away. He takes your hand and notices your hesitancy as you look up at the foreboding residence.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in?” you ask.

It’s like the house hears you, the front door unlatching and creaking open in invitation, the interior still unseen in favor of pitch darkness from the doorway. Probably just the wind, you tell yourself as Marcus leads you through the gate and down the front path. The porch steps sigh under your weight, alerting whatever was waiting inside of your presence.

The front entrance is a small hallway, arches on all three sides taking you into what used to be a formal living room on the left, a dining room to the right, and a grand winding staircase in front of you to the second floor. Any remaining furniture is either turned upside down and coated in dust, or has a sheet covering it. You swear you see one of the sheets move in the corner of your eye, but a quick darting glance shows no other movement. Marcus walks you towards the staircase when the door hinges groan behind you, the heavy wood door swinging closed on its own with a bang. You break away to rush back, turning the useless knob as the door stays jammed shut.

You almost jump when Marcus’s hands encircle your shoulders, squeezing gently.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers. “Let’s keep going.”

Against your better judgement you follow him, holding onto the broad of his bicep and gripping the stair railing in your other hand as you ascend to the second floor. A desolate hallway stretches in front of you, the threadbare runner down its length frayed with age. Marcus continues forward, seemingly unbothered, to explore further down when the walls groan around you, pipes creaking and tensing just behind the drywall. You drop his arm, backing up.

“Marcus…” you warn, glancing uneasily around as he turns towards you, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs into a kiss on your head. “Just a little more, okay?”

He ushers you to the end of the hallway, the hair on your neck standing straight as a doorknob turns on its own. You shift backwards but Marcus holds you in place, the door squeaking open in front of you. It’s a small child’s room, a faded teddy bear watching you from the short bed pushed up against the opposite wall. Next to the bed is a wheelchair, old enough to look like it belonged in a museum. You wonder why on earth Marcus has you peering into this room when the wheels jolt, coming to life as the wheelchair starts rolling towards you. You back away, on the brink of running as Marcus holds you in place, smiling down at you. His grin immediately drops when he sees the frightened tears welling in the corner of your eyes, your panicked glance portraying your urgency to get the fuck out.

“Can we please go?” you beg, voice trembling and he nods quickly. And it’s like whatever plagues this house has heard you too, the bumps in the night stopping as he hurries you back down the stairs and out the magically unlocked door.

You drive back home in silence, and it’s not until you’re in the safety of your living room, snuggled under a blanket on the couch as the comfort of a Disney Halloween movie plays in the background, that Marcus finally speaks up.

“I have something to confess.”

“You like Halloweentown Two better than the original?” you try to joke, but it still doesn’t quite reach your voice yet.

He sighs, and when you look up at him you’re surprised to see sadness in his eyes.

“I did something I regret,” he rubs your shoulder like he’s preparing you for what he’s about to say. “I was the one making all of that scary stuff happen in that house. It’s not actually haunted.”

You blink. “What?”

“I was making all of the metal move inside. The doorknobs, the water pipes, the wheelchair.” He sighs, bumping his glasses up to rub between his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded, and he looks down sheepishly.

“I thought you liked getting scared. Every time we turn on a scary movie you always end up on my lap and then, well...we stop watching the movie. So I thought...” You swear the ends of his ears turn red. “I thought getting scared turned you on.”

You’re quiet for another moment and he stares at you with his apology written all over his face. He’s surprised, then, when you throw your head back in laughter.

“Marcus,” you wheeze, wiping away a leftover tear that sprung from your glee, “we end up having sex because I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. Not because fear gets me going.”

You have to laugh again at his shocked reaction, hand dropping from your shoulder as realization makes him even more apologetic. He covers his face in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, baby,” he laments. “I’m so stupid.”

You coo, trying to hide how funny this misunderstanding is as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“It’s okay,” you try to soothe him, kissing the knuckles that cover his eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment...even if the execution could use some work.”

He groans again as you giggle, prying away his hands to find his remorseful face. You suppress the smile creeping onto your face as you shimmy under the blankets, hooking a leg over his waist to straddle his lap.

“You know you don’t need to do anything special to turn me on,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his in a forgiving kiss.

He lets out a soft breath. “I know, I just wanted to try something new.”

You skirt your fingers across his collarbones, down his arms, testing the muscles of his biceps in a squeeze.

“I mean, the idea of you protecting me is kind of sexy,” you drop your voice into a sultry tone, teasing your fingers down to the bottom of his shirt as he shivers from the ticklish spot on his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a smile forming in the creases of his chocolate brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you continue, pulling his shirt up and over his head to toss it to the side. “I’m probably wet right now because of it.”

You hear his breath catch, a bulge forming underneath you that you slowly rock against. His hands run up to grip your waist, looking up at you.

“Let me see,” he whispers, pulling you off him to sit you back on the couch, sliding to the floor to kneel between your parted legs. The fleece blanket slides off with him, leaving you exposed as he peels your leggings off, groaning a low fuck when he sees the wet patch visible on your panties. He leans down, pressing a warm kiss there before looking up at you.

“I know how I can make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, rather breathless already at the sight of this superhero on his knees for you.

“I’m going to lick this pussy until I feel I’ve adequately apologized.”

You bust out a laugh, shaking your head as he slides your underwear off too. “Marcus, you don’t need t—oh!” Your legs almost jerk shut because he doesn’t let you finish, tongue diving between your folds with a groan. He eases your legs back apart, using his grasp on them to anchor you in place as his tongue begins working into your pussy, twirling and prodding as he forms his mouth around you.

You lean back into the cushions, letting him take over to thoroughly apologize to you in his own special way, canting your hips towards the edge of the couch to give him easier access. He growls and slides his hands under your thighs to grasp you from behind, pulling you even further off of it and closer to his eager mouth. You gasp, hooking an ankle over the broad of his back, urging him even closer as he explores your cunt. He intertwines his fingers through yours and you pull it up to the hem of your sweater in a silent request, a whine caught in your throat when you clench around the wet muscle working into you. He slurps at your arousal, bringing it up to your clit in heavy licks while his hand slides up under your sweater, palming and squeezing at your bare breast as he moans against your mound.

It’s not long before your undulating hips match the rhythmic back and forth of his expert tongue. You’re gripping the back cushion behind you, other hand lost in his hair, the foot pressed against his back as leverage to help push you up into his mouth even further. He pulls back for a moment, your slick dripping from his chin, groaning as he admires how pink and swollen and shiny you are for him already. He spits, watching it slide down to your entrance before dipping down to capture it, bringing it back up to suck you into his mouth. His lips pressed firmly around you, tongue swiping quick and precise, his humming approval vibrating up your core all work together to build the pleasure that crackles in the fire of your belly.

“Fuck, M-Marcus,” you whimper, hips beginning to jerk off tempo. “Gonna cum. I’m gonna...oh, oh shit!”

You cry out his name, the building warmth finally exploding in waves of pleasure through your body. You shake over him, his determined mouth latching on to your lurching body to coax every last drop out of you. He drinks you down, watching the way you heave from it until you finally start to come down. He places a few parting kisses to your cunt, then to your thighs before smiling up at you.

“Do you forgive me now?”

You answer with a breathless laugh, leaning down to catch his lips in yours, your tongue slipping out to taste your essence still coating his mouth. He groans, deepening the kiss until you pull away just slightly, panting against him.

“Bed,” you say, half-question half-demand and he quickly nods. He stands and picks you up with ease, super strength carrying you and tossing you onto the bed as you land amongst the soft pillows. His glasses are quickly discarded as his clothes fall to the floor, watching you as you pull your sweater off to spread naked in front of him, crooking a finger to him with a wink. He crawls on top of you, his cock hanging heavy between his legs pressing against your inner thigh, but when you look up at his face an apology is still very much apparent across it.

“I really am sorry for doing that, baby.”

You card your fingers through his hair, hooking a leg around his thigh. “Why don’t you fuck me then and we’ll call it even?”

He lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan, dipping down to capture your lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” his deep voice thrums, taking on the commanding tone he uses out on the field and here in the bedroom with you.

He shifts down and notches to your entrance, a delicious moan escaping his mouth as he slides into you. You clutch at his arms when he’s fully seated, sighing into his neck when he starts to set a languid pace.

“Marcus,” you whine, “harder.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, “You need that?”

You nod, forehead bumping against his shoulder and he turns his head, pressing his lips to any skin he can find.

“Anything for you, baby,” he grits out, slamming into you hard enough to make you see stars. He burrows his arms under your back, pressing tightly onto you as his hips start hammering into you, the maddening seesaw of his cock splitting you open making you hold onto him for dear life. There’s barely any space between you, breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, legs wrapped around his hips as you squeeze your knees for him to go deeper. His name escapes your mouth in a breathy sob, his cock punching up against the spot he knows so intimately.

“Never let anything happen to you,” he groans as he fucks you into the mattress. “My perfect girl.”

He murmurs low into your temple how he’ll always protect you, how the headboard smacking against the wall are the only bumps in the night you need to worry about. You start clenching around him, whining as he brings you closer and closer to the edge with each harsh snap of his hips.

“Cum for me then,” he commands, eyes beneath pinched brows searching yours. “C’mon, baby, I, fuck—I need to feel it.” He pushes a hand between you, thumb finding your clit and the quick bumping motion is all it takes to send you reeling. His tongue dips into your mouth as you cry out for him, shuddering through your climax as the wet sounds of fucking grow louder. He’s not far after you, eyes fluttering half-closed as he jerks one final time, spurting inside you with a guttural moan.

Marcus eases his weight off of you, slipping out and collapsing to the side, chest heaving for breath. Eventually when you start to regain your other senses you reach out for him, his hand capturing your fingers to pull you closer, head coming to rest on his chest. His fingers trace along your skin and you listen to his heartbeat, voice thick in your throat from the warmth of your bliss.

“Y’know, it wasn’t that bad,” you finally say. “Maybe getting scared does kinda turn me on.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

“The only thing I didn’t like was that kid.”

He looks down at you. “What kid?”

“That creepy little girl! The one who told us we were going to die in there.”

His fingers stop mid-circle against your back.

“Honey,” he whispers, “there was no one there.”

--

Happy Halloween!

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