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gurugirl · 2 months ago

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The Mushroomer | friendly ghost!harry

Summary: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.

A/n: Harry's a sweet ghost - so nothing scary here. But it is a little sad (with a happy ending). Also, I took some artistic liberties on what ghosts can do with this one shot so you may need to suspend your disbelief a bit. xoxo

Word Count: 11.5k

Warning: smut, talk of depression & suicide, loneliness (Harry's a sad ghost but Y/n makes him happy)

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Y/n had been living in the small house in the woods for only a couple of weeks when she started noticing strange things. She'd be typing on her laptop, cozy and focused when suddenly the tea kettle would whistle, breaking her out of the moment and scaring the life out of her. Somehow, not only would her tea kettle be on the burner but it was magically filled with water -both of which she had not done.

Or like the other evening when she was getting ready to settle into bed and she remembered she needed to turn off the lights in her kitchen so she grumpily got up and padded into the living room to see with her own eyes as her kitchen lights shut themselves off. It was nice to not have to walk all that way (which really wasn't all that far) but the creep factor of that happening was quite substantial.

But there were a lot of little things she'd been side-eyeing that made her wonder what was going on. However, she couldn't ignore it that morning. The way the blankets next to her were raised up as if someone were lying underneath them with her.

She had just woken up and her eyes were bleary and tired but the drizzle of morning light shining in her room made it clear that something was in the bed right next to her. Reaching toward the human-sized lump she blinked her eyes slowly and the moment her hand came into contact with the wool it suddenly deflated and dropped to the bed. She sat up and looked around the quiet space of her small room with her heart pounding in her chest.

"Is someone here?"

She was answered with silence. Pulling the blanket back she found exactly what she imagined. Nothing.

But then the kettle was going off and she jumped from the bed, quickly putting her slippers on her feet before dashing into the kitchen to shut off the burner.

"What is going on? Is someone here? Just…" She put her hands over her face in frustration as she groaned and when she pulled her hands away, there was her favorite mug sitting out for her already.

She remembered emptying the kettle and cleaning her mug and putting it away the night before. This was all impossible.

But she was in the mood for a hot cup of tea so she reluctantly grabbed the mug and that's when she saw her tea ball inside already filled with her favorite English breakfast tea leaves.

Pouring the hot water into her mug she peered around the kitchen, "Thank you. If there is someone there. This was nice. But… kind of creepy."

So, Y/n's day was off to an interesting start, and even though she'd been experiencing strange things and there was a small part of her that wondered if perhaps she had some kind of friendly ghost in her house, that day she was especially present and keeping her eyes open for anything odd.

Which led her to do some research on the old house she'd bought. She wondered who'd lived there before her. She only knew what was public. The property tax amount, and how many times the house had been bought and sold over the years (that number was surprisingly high). And that made her wonder if there was a connection. Had others been experiencing strange things in the home too? Had they been so spooked that they left, selling it to the next person to start the process all over again?

Of course, nothing that was happening was scary. Not really. It was strange, yes. It got her heart rate up a few times… but in the end, everything had been friendly or harmless gestures. Helpful even.

She didn't get much writing done that day, but rather she did find some interesting things online. It took her some time to get down to any names of people who'd lived in the house before (she didn't find many), but there was an old article from 1999 about a young professor who lived in town who died after going mushroom picking and eating the wrong kind. The article was more of an informative warning kind of story but there were some details that caught her interest.

The man would often forage for mushrooms being somewhat of an expert, but even with all of his knowledge he still mistook a bad one for a good one. Supposedly he died in his home all alone. And he was called by the name Harry. It didn't say where Harry lived exactly just that he was a professor from the area and he'd lived in the woods.

And that story led her to other smaller accounts of Harry the teacher and mushroomer who lived in the woods. She was so fascinated by the little bits of information she found that she hadn't realized the sun was already setting. She'd been at her desk reading what little she could find about this mysterious man who died in 1985, likely in the very house she was sitting in. He was 30 when he died.

"Mushrooms…" she spoke to herself as she recalled the mushrooms carved into the top of the banisters on the porch.

Closing her laptop she flicked on a lamp and then turned on her front porch light to double-check the wooden banisters and sure enough, mushrooms.

She placed her hand over the tops of them and bent to look at the work. It was crude, not carved by a wood maker but maybe an amateur. Perhaps Harry himself had carved them. Over the years, of course, the wood was aged and worn from the elements but it was clearly meant to be the shape of a mushroom.

She made a mental note to buy some varnish to cover them and make sure they didn't erode further. To keep the artist's work intact.

"I like these," she smiled and looked around herself, not sure if the ghost, or whatever it was, might be watching. She knew she might be losing her mind, entertaining such thoughts, but what else could it be? Surely something was afoot. Luckily, whatever it was, seemed to be kind and liked to get her tea started for her.

Y/n turned on her radio as she made cucumber and cheese sandwiches and hummed along. She'd peek behind herself every now and then in hopes of seeing something but that night nothing more came. Just when she was beginning to find the whole idea of having a ghost exciting, he suddenly wanted to be quiet.

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She wanted to sit outside to write that day. Took her hot tea with a little honey that morning and an English muffin with a jammy egg and extra butter. Then she piled the wooden bench with blankets and a couple of pillows and spread herself along the space and began to write.

Y/n loved her solitude. Loved the quiet and the freedom to live her life as she wanted day to day. She might call herself lucky that she didn't have to work a traditional 9-5 job but being a writer and trying to keep on schedule with her publisher was quite difficult at times. But she wouldn't trade the stress of getting her work done on deadline for anything. Especially not when she got to enjoy such peace in her life.

She wasn't rich. Not even close, but she did alright for herself. She'd been able to buy the adorable little house in the woods all on her own after all. So she was grateful for her life.

Content.

When she heard rustling leaves coming from the side of the house she stopped typing and kept her ears perked to listen. It sounded like a large animal moving through from the woods.

Getting up slowly and as quietly as she could she carefully stepped toward the edge of the porch and looked down at the side of the house to see nothing but dried brown leaves.

She was still hoping to see her ghost. Hoping he'd show himself –if there was a ghost (though she was almost certain by then). But everything had been quiet since before she ate dinner the night before.

Pursing her lips, she was a little disappointed that she still had not seen anything substantial yet. But as she turned to walk back to her bench, there, atop her closed laptop was a mushroom. A freshly picked mushroom. She wasn't sure what kind it was but it was clearly wild with a bit of dirt still at its base.

Plucking it up between her pointer finger and thumb she laughed as she moved her eyes all around her, "Is this from you, Harry? Harry the Mushroomer? That's what they call you, you know."

She walked down the steps of her porch to the front yard with the mushroom in her hand and peered around, "Thank you for this, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable eating it. Didn't you die because you ate the wrong kind? Accidentally poisoned yourself?"

Y/n knew that if anyone could see her they'd think she was a crazy woman talking to herself like that. Luckily she had no visible neighbors.

"Well? Are you gonna show yourself or just keep doing little things like this? It's okay if this is it. I don't mind, but it's hard to talk to you when I can't hear or see you."

In almost an instant there was a figure at the limn of her eye and she turned to see a tall man looking at her. She waited for a moment before speaking as his appearance seemed to slowly fill in… like he was being painted to life before her eyes.

He pointed at her hand, "It's safe. I promise."

She looked down at the mushroom in her palm and then back at the man, "Are you… Harry?"

He stepped back, the lines around him seemed to fade and Y/n reached toward him, "Don't leave! Please. I'd like to talk if you can."

"I can't leave."

"You can't… Because you're stuck here? Attached to this house?"

He nodded, the vibrant color of his skin filling in again and she noticed his eyes were a soft green like the moss in the small pond up the path.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard to be stuck like that."

"It is."

"Did you carve those mushrooms there," she pointed toward the banister.

He nodded again. She didn't know if that's just how he was, quiet and shy. Or maybe it was because he was not used to interacting with people anymore.

"Um… thank you for the mushroom. And for the tea. You seem to like to help."

He looked like a real man standing in her front yard with his brown shoes in the dead leaves that were scattered about. He wore a cream-colored sweater and khaki pants.

"I do like to help. You can eat that. They were wrong."

"Who was wrong? About what?"

She watched him blink and look toward the porch before he motioned to the house, "May I?"

Y/n grinned, not quite believing what was happening but fascinated all at the same time, "Of course. It's your house, Harry."

He looked at her for a second, the smallest bit of a smile spread across his face before he nodded and began to move up toward the porch, Y/n following behind him.

She stopped and watched him walk toward the wooden bench and sit down, as if he were too weary to stand, though she never imagined ghosts feeling tired like that. He stared out toward the trees before he spoke, "I did it on purpose. It wasn't an accident."

She stitched her brows together and wrapped an arm around the wooden post at the top of the steps, "You poisoned yourself?"

He nodded, still staring toward the yard and trees with their changing leaves, "I wish I hadn't but I was sad and I wanted to stop feeling sad. And then everyone thought it was just an accident. A mistake. But it wasn't."

Y/n stepped toward him cautiously, not wanting to scare him off, "Can I sit next to you?"

He looked up at her before moving his mournful eyes back toward the woods. She took that as a yes, so she carefully sat on the bench next to her sad ghost.

"Why were you sad?"

He shook his head slowly, "Lonely. But it's much worse like this. No one wants to talk to a spirit. Everyone gets spooked."

"You can talk to me. I'm not spooked," she spoke quietly and he looked at her again, brows softening as she continued, "If you want we can be friends."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why am I not spooked? Why do I want to be your friend?" She raised her brows.

Harry didn't answer, though. He only kept his gaze on hers. She figured his why was to all of the above. He wasn't used to people anymore.

"Well… you've been very welcoming toward me since I moved in. Kind even. Getting my tea ready, that was clever," she laughed and watched as his shoulders seemed to relax, "That's not spooky. It was helpful. And I like that you wanted to be nice so I'd like to be your friend."

"Okay. Just know… I can't leave. So if you feel bothered the best I can do is step outside or into another room. People have tried having the house blessed. A priest came in once and tried to get me to leave. I wish I wasn't stuck here. I hoped that somehow that would work, with the priest, but it didn't. I'd rather be gone but instead, I'm trapped, halfway here and halfway there."

"So, you're the kind of ghost that can pick things up and –well you also look like a real man too. To me you do."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess. I've never met another ghost."

The pair sat on the porch together for nearly two hours. Y/n was intrigued and had quite a few questions but she also told him about herself. At one point Harry could see she was chilled so he handed her blanket from underneath him and helped her drape it over her shoulders.

She couldn't imagine how a man like him had found such a fate. Every now and then when he spoke she noted that he had a natural charisma, a charm that certainly had caught the eye of a few ladies at one time. He was smart and kind. And she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was too. But mostly he was sad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him if he'd let her. Tell him he wouldn't be alone anymore and that it was going to be okay.

When she made dinner for herself she used the mushroom he'd picked and he told her where she could find more of them. That they could forage together if she were up for it. He made her tea and told her that she liked her tea the same way his mother did.

It felt like she was talking to someone she knew a long time ago and that they were just reconnecting after years of being apart. It took a bit to warm up but once they got going Harry was a regular conversationalist. She could picture him as a professor in front of students relating his biology teachings to a story about being chased down the street by a pack of wild dogs.

He was funny. Y/n liked Harry a lot. She hadn't really gotten any work done that day but there wasn't a part of her that regretted that.

When the sun had gone down she turned on all the lamps and let Harry sit in her comfy chair near the wood-burning stove (that he installed all by himself in 1981) and take his pick of book to read from her bookshelf.

She finally wound up getting a decent amount of writing done with Harry just there reading. It was nice to have a companion with her. She loved her peace and quiet but it was easy for her to adjust to Harry being there. Maybe because he had been there all along.

When she was getting tired and couldn't write anymore she looked over at Harry and noticed that he was still fully immersed in the book, "I think I'm gonna go to bed. Um… you can do whatever you want. And no need to hide or anything. Okay? I like you around."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course. I'll just be here. Won't bother you."

Y/n smiled at him as she stood up, "You're not a bother. I'll see you in the morning?"

He smiled and nodded at her, "Thank you."

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"So you do sleep at all, Harry?" Y/n asked him as she poured hot water over her tea.

"Yes. That's mostly all I do. I like to be unconscious. Pretend I'm not here."

Y/n felt so sad hearing the way he spoke. Even in death, he seemed to be depressed, sad.

"And where do you normally sleep?"

He shrugged, the book he had been reading from the night before was in his hand, "Wherever. In the bed sometimes."

Y/n looked at him, squinting her eyes, "Next to me? Like you did the other morning?"

He looked down and nodded, "Sorry. I won't do it again. Just like to feel like I'm not alone and when you're sleeping I know I won't scare you because you won't even know I'm there. But," he looked up at her quickly, "I've never done anything weird. I would never. It was just to be closer is all. Not in a weird way-" he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath, "But that still sounds weird to you I'm sure. I meant no harm."

She reached her hand toward him, almost not expecting to feel anything but when her finger grazed the fabric of his sweater she was startled and stepped back. But the moment Harry realized she'd gotten spooked he was gone in an instant. The book he'd been holding lying on her tile countertop.

"No. Harry don't leave, please. I… just didn't expect to be able to touch your sweater. It's… I promise it wasn't because I was scared of you. Please come back. I'm sorry. This is all new for me and I was surprised is all."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see him, but he was hazy, not quite there, "I don't want to scare you. I'm used to just staying in the shadows, Y/n. I don't think I could bear having you be frightened of me."

Moving toward him slowly she put her palms facing out to him in conciliation, "I'm not frightened. I promise. I just didn't realize I'd feel it when I reached for you. I want you to stay. I like you here. I like your company. I like seeing you. And now I'll know better than to be surprised when I can feel the wool on your sweater next time."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, putting her hands down to her side, "I'm sure. And I don't want you to be skittish around me either. You don't need to disappear like that. Let's just get used to one another okay? But I'm not frightened. I think I already prefer you to most people I've met, in fact."

That got him smiling and it almost appeared like he was blushing as he looked down at the floor, a dimple scored into his cheek.

Quite the handsome ghost when he was smiling. He blinked his eyes as his form became tangible again, corporeal.

She took a deep breath and reached for him again, slowly that time, placing her palm up for him to reach out toward. She watched as he lifted his hand and gradually pushed it forward until she could feel the whispy brush of his skin on her fingertips before he pressed his palm over hers. Like a real person, with skin and everything.

"I can feel you. Can you feel me too?" She asked.

He nodded as his grin spread, "Yes. That's nice."

"It is nice. See? Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, his eyes on hers.

"Can we rewind? Go back to what we were just talking about before I got all jumpy? About you sleeping in the bed?"

"Okay."

She moved her fingers around his hand and squeezed it gently, "If you ever need to be close, it's okay if you come to sleep in my bed with me. This is your house too, Harry. It was your house first. I don't want you to feel lonely in your home. Just because you're… well, a spirit, that doesn't mean you deserve a life of isolation. I'm your friend now. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

Y/n found that having Harry around somehow inspired her and kept her focused. She'd gotten more work done than she had in a very long time. Perhaps it was just that there was another presence there with her, watching and paying attention. Somehow it seemed to keep her on task. He was quiet most of the day. He'd read or take walks outside and bring mushrooms back when he found them. In the evenings they'd chat and she often caught herself wishing he was a real live man because if she were being very honest he had all the qualities she'd want in a partner. But on top of that, he was tortuously handsome. And it seemed the more she knew of him the more attractive he was.

He was quite humorous at times, a natural storyteller. And it seemed he enjoyed making her smile. He listened to her talk as well and remembered every detail of every word she spoke. Like she was worth listening to. It's something she didn't often find with other people.

Sleeping next to him at night was also increasingly difficult as now there was a sentient and conscious being lying next to her when she was feeling a bit lustful (as did happen on occasion inevitably). But there was little she could do to satiate herself in her bed when Harry was there too.

So she wound up changing her schedule slightly, to have her showers at night and find relief under the warm stream of water before she climbed into bed with him, who took up a lot more space than one would assume a ghost would.

He was always perfectly polite. Too polite maybe. But then again she had no idea how that would work with him anyway. Yes, she could feel his skin and touch his clothes and once had the pleasure of running her fingers into his hair… but certainly they couldn't… get intimate?

Though, she'd imagined how his lips might feel or those big hands on her hips or her waist. She'd imagine his eyes peering at her as he undressed (she'd never seen him remove any clothing but she often wondered what was under his clothes). She knew it was wrong. Felt guilty for thinking about him like that.

But she was a warm-blooded woman with certain needs that every other woman had just the same. And Harry, ghost or not, was easy to look and he was even easier to trust.

He was sweet.

And she was ovulating.

So even taking care of herself in her shower didn't quite scratch the itch by the time she got into the bedroom to find Harry already sitting with the blankets over his lap and his back against the headboard and his nose in a book. It was like having a really hot friend who lived with you who you knew you could never do anything like that with.

"Feel better?" He asked her as he closed the book and watched her take off her sweater.

She didn't remember telling him she hadn't felt good before her shower. In fact, he hadn't ever asked her before if she felt better after her shower so it made her wonder if he was paying closer attention than she realized. Could he tell that she had a change in mood? That her hormones were fluctuating? Surely not.

"Um, I think a little better," she smiled and slid into the bed, wishing she could climb into his lap and lift up his sweater to feel his skin. She was curious about him and wondered if there was more to explore with him. Was there anything under the clothes? Did he ever have those natural human urges he likely had when he was living?

"You seem a little tense. Would you like a tea? I think camomile is good for helping you calm."

She sighed, "I'm just… yeah. A tea sounds good. Maybe that'll help."

Harry left her alone in her room and she watched as the light in the kitchen gently spread out and illuminated the hallway off the bedroom. With a few minutes to herself, she reached into her soft night pants and rubbed over her panties. It was risky and she knew he might return any minute but she was hidden by the covers over her lap.

And it felt good. Obviously, the shower had been nice but there was something about doing it in her own bed on a dry surface that was her favorite. And she was already wetting the material of her underwear as she pushed the fabric aside and pressed her fingers directly over her clit. She could be quick.

A quiet gasp fell from her lips when she began hitting the right spot, fingers quickly swiping back and forth, body heating, heart pounding.

But then he was there at the door with a steaming mug in his hands, standing still like he'd been the one to see a ghost. She was covered up but by the way he was looking at her…

She slowly moved her hand away and smiled, "Uh, that was fast. Thank you."

He placed the mug on the table next to her bed quietly and looked away from her, "I can give you some privacy. I'm sorry."

Oh. He knew what she was up to. She'd been so stupid to think she could rub one out fast enough without him realizing.

"No, I'm sorry. I… since you've been around, or since I knew you were here I have to kind of… God, I'm embarrassed," she put her face in her hands and groaned.

"Don't feel embarrassed. It's normal. Nothing shameful about any of that. I was a biology professor after all."

Y/n looked up at him, "You're always too nice, Harry. I feel so awful. You probably don't even… well… you know. Things are different for you now than when you were alive?"

He cocked his head to the side, "Things are different yes. But if you mean in terms of feeling stirred, aroused… I can -still. But it's been a very long time."

She swallowed, unable to quite comprehend how that was possible, "So… you, as a ghost, can like feel that way? Does your body react as well?"

He puffed out a laugh and looked down at the wood floors below his feet, "Yes. Mostly. I still have all the feelings and emotions within my consciousness as when I was alive. And yes, I feel it and it can be visible if I let it."

Visible. That did nothing to quell her growing curiosity.

"That's… I guess I don't really know much about spirits, but I'm surprised."

"To be honest, I don't know much about myself like this either. I just know I still feel emotions and physically can feel…. excited. And that I can only go as far as the perimeter of the land this house is on. If I step past the boundary I wind up back inside the house. You're the first person I've really interacted with. Everyone else was terrified. I don't blame them."

"You can come back if you want," she patted the spot on the bed next to her. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable. I'm good now I think. Sorry to make this weird."

"Are you sure? I can leave for a bit–"

"No. No, I'm over it now," she took a sip of the tea he'd made her. He always seemed to know exactly how to make her tea.

Harry pulled the blankets back and settled into bed next to her before she flicked off the light on her lamp.

"I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong."

She wished she could ask him to hold her. Just to be in his arms, to know what that would feel like. And she was sure that if she asked he would because he was so kind. But he'd just caught her playing with herself and she felt like a pervert and she was sure he'd wonder what her intentions were. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own intentions at that point.

So, she closed her eyes and tried to push down how embarrassed she felt and the subtle ache between her thighs. Perhaps she'd get on birth control so she wouldn't ovulate anymore. She felt out of control, led by her id, her hormones calling the shots.

Eventually, she found sleep, and for a while, she forgot all about her misdeed and her aroused state in exchange for much-needed rest.

But upon waking she found that she'd snuggled into Harry tightly. Her cheek smushed against the sweater over his chest and his arms were placed around her back. It felt like waking up in the arms of a real man. It was soft and cozy. She felt warm and safe.

She knew he could sleep. He told her as much so she wasn't sure if he was awake or not which was her reason to keep still and bask in the moment. As much as she loved her solitude, it hadn't dawned on her until then how much she missed human contact. It was lovely to feel him so close like that. He felt solid as if he had a real live body.

Slowly the light from the sun began to brighten her room as the morning grew later. She probably should get up but it was so hard to peel herself away from Harry. Not only did she not want to wake him, she wanted to enjoy him holding her for as long as she could.

"If you need to get up you can."

She startled, tilting her head back to look up at him, "I didn't know you were awake. I didn't want to -wake you."

He was cute. His face half-covered with her pillow as he looked down at her, "I know. But I am awake. You can stay here like this for as long as you like, though. I don't mind."

Harry adjusted his face into the pillow, pink lips set in a soft smile as he kept his eyes on hers. He was beautiful and she could think of nothing better to do in that moment than to reach her hand up to his neck and stretch up toward him so she could give him a quick peck on his mouth.

Maybe it was her sleepy brain or just the soft moment they were enveloped in together. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her that did it. But whatever made her do it felt like something she needed to do. To feel.

And then he kissed her back. It was like kissing a man. A real live man. His palms slid over her back softly, upward to her shoulder blades as he continued moving his lips with hers. Gentle and slow. Sleepy.

It did nothing to make her hormones calm. Which just led to her sliding her hand down his sturdy chest and to his hip. She wouldn't take it too far, she was just curious what the skin under his sweater would feel like as she edged the tips of her fingers upward and he was still real underneath too. Taut skin and sinew over muscle and bone. Moving her palm higher up his stomach she found herself quite pleasantly surprised by the way he felt under her hand.

But he stopped abruptly, sitting up and clambering out of bed, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. You… I'm really sorry."

She looked up at him from her spot on the bed and blinked her tired eyes, "Why are you sorry? I kissed you first."

"You did?" He shook his head, "I thought I started it. I'm not used to this. I don't know what I'm doing." He ran his hands into his hair and stepped around the bed toward the door, "I'm sorry. I think I need to… just some time to think."

She watched him walk away out of sight, blindsided by what had just happened. Of course, the whole thing was wild. It was insane even. He was a ghost. It wasn't like they could be together. She wished things were different, she really did. She needed to pull herself together. Harry had real feelings, he'd told her as much.

Taking a warm shower she tried to reason with herself about what had happened. But the more she considered it all, the more she wondered what a future would look like if she were to fall in love with a ghost. She didn't want to indulge in those thoughts but she couldn't help it. She didn't like being around people and rarely needed to leave her little house. Would it be so bad to just be with Harry? He was lonely and needed companionship just like she did and she really enjoyed his company. He seemed to be the perfect companion, the only issue being that he was technically dead. And she had no idea how a physical relationship would work but she was beginning to think, after that kiss, that was in fact possible.

She could stay "single" forever and if anyone asked why she never married or dated she'd just say she preferred to be alone. No one would need to know about Harry.

Y/n shook her head as she dried her hair. She was losing it. Why was her mind going there? Yes, maybe she was a little lonely at times, and he was kind and nice to talk to, and he was clearly a very attractive… specter. But he wasn't a living man.

Opening up her laptop after having made herself a tea, she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Harry hadn't come back. Or if he had he wasn't showing himself to her. Had it really been all that bad for them to kiss? Probably. She shouldn't have done it. And now he was the one who was spooked. She couldn't blame him. It'd been a long time since he'd had a person to even talk to who knew of his existence and the one that he finally does show himself to winds up developing silly feelings for him and wants to kiss.

Y/n hardly got any writing done that day. Harry stayed away. The house was quiet. She didn't want to push him to show himself or to talk to her. If he needed space, she'd give it to him.

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

She figured that the worst part about having a ghost was knowing he was there but not knowing where he was or what he was seeing her do. If he was even watching. Harry didn't return that first night nor the following day. He didn't sleep next to her in bed and he didn't prepare her tea.

She started to wonder if he was going to come back at all.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I hope you can forgive me and come back. I promise I'll never be so reckless again. I just had a lapse in judgment."

Her phone rang, startling her from her speech to her ghost. She had an inkling he was there and listening.

"Hello?"

It was her cousin Sil. She had promised to bring over a small kitchen table, something Y/n didn't have when she first moved into the house.

"Oh, tonight? Sure. Um… yeah. I'll be here."

She would be happy to have a kitchen table and chairs finally but she wasn't really up for company. Hopefully, Sil would be in and out quickly, though getting to her house in the woods was quite the drive.

"Harry, my cousin is coming to drop off some furniture. I'm just letting you know," she looked around the space and the room was empty and quiet still. Her heart dropped as she sighed.

But she had to stop moping and pull herself together before Sil arrived. She put on something a little nicer and swiped a little mascara onto her lashes before spritzing herself with her favorite perfume. Then she filled her kettle with fresh water and pulled down a couple of mugs and plates and then sliced up strawberries and cantaloupe.

She kept herself busy until she heard a knock at her door and put on a smile before opening it to see not only Sil, but a man wearing a thick flannel just behind her.

"This is Memo. He offered to help with the table. It's kind of heavy."

"Oh, of course! Thank you! And it's nice to meet you, Memo."

Y/n propped open the door and then she and Sil got to work carrying in the chairs as Memo shimmied the table inside on his own. When everything was set up in her little kitchen she was quite pleased with the way it looked.

"I love it. Thank you so much, Sil," she pulled her cousin in for a hug and then reached for Memo's arm and squeezed, "And I appreciate your help. Thank you."

"Your house is amazing. Ever get lonely living out here by yourself?"

Y/n looked up at the man and shrugged, "Um… not really. I like the peace out here. It's great for inspiration."

"She's a writer," Sil interjected, "Already has two published books and one on the way. She's the famous one I was talking about."

Y/n laughed and put her hand up, "I'm not famous. That's an exaggeration…"

"Well, she's a published author and her first book sold almost, what… like 50,000 copies?"

"That's average at best. I'm not… I'm lucky but I'm not anywhere near famous," Y/n looked at Memo and then at her cousin. "It pays the bills. And I love it, so…" She turned toward her kitchen counter, wanting to change the subject, "Would you guys care for some tea or coffee? I've got fruit sliced up as well?"

"I could go for some tea. Thank you, Y/n."

Memo smiled at her softly and her cousin raised her brows with a nod, "Sure. We'll stay a little longer."

Y/n prepared tea and placed the fruit and plates on her new kitchen table before joining Sil and Memo to sit. She learned that Memo was Sil's neighbor and when Y/n commented that she thought they were cute together Sil quickly corrected her cousin, "Oh, we're not… No," she laughed. "He's just a friend."

"I'm as single as they come," he winked at Y/n before taking another sip of his tea.

She found that to be a strange thing to say. Was he suggesting something? Y/n didn't know but she definitely wasn't interested. Her mind was still on Harry and wondering where he was, if he was watching everything.

When the fruit was all eaten and their mugs were dry Y/n got up to place everything in her sink and Memo followed, "I can help. Let me wash the dishes."

She looked back at Sil who was grinning, a raised brow in her direction. Y/n shook her head and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was a setup. She'd be nice but there was no way in hell–

"What the… shit!" Memo stepped back from the sink quickly and turned, his arms out exasperatedly.

He had water all over the front of his flannel and Y/n covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

"Something just… I turned on the water and it was like the stream just sprayed out right at me. Got all over my shirt!"

Sil stepped passed Memo and turned off the water then turned it back on to check, "Seems okay now. Maybe it was just air in the pipe or something?"

"Sorry. That has never happened. Would you like a towel?" Y/n offered.

"Yeah. If it's no bother."

When Y/n walked into the hallway to grab a towel she felt someone behind her. She brightened up as she turned, hoping to see Harry but found the other male standing there with her, plucking at his shirt.

"Here," she handed him a white towel, "I'm really sorry about your shirt."

Memo nodded as he dabbed at himself, "Yeah it's just water. My shirt'll be fine. Just a little embarrassed."

Y/n laughed, "Embarrassed? Why?"

"Got my shirt all well and startled everyone. Especially in front of a pretty girl. Little bit of a hit to my ego."

Y/n's brows stitched together, "Oh. Well, don't worry. I really don't care–"

"Would you… Well, we're about to leave and I thought maybe I could give you my number or something?"

There was no way she was going to call Memo or entertain anything more with him. But she decided to play dumb and just go along with it. She'd take his number and then lose it. Not that he wasn't a good-looking guy. And he was probably perfectly nice (he seemed nice). In a different world, one where she was more outgoing and liked to meet new people, maybe she'd actually be interested.

"Uh…"

Suddenly the hallway light flicked on and her TV came on in the living room, volume all the way up. The lamp in the corner flashing on and off and then on again.

Y/n quickly slid past Memo to turn her television off, one hand cupping her ear as she aimed the remote at her TV.

Sil looked spooked as she stepped out of the kitchen and then Memo suddenly rushed in, tripping as he cursed, "What the fuck?"

Everyone stood in shock staring at one another when all the lights in the house went off and Memo gasped, "Shit! What is that?!" The sound of someone running into her coffee table and something slamming into the wall had Y/n rushing to flick her lights back on.

Memo was swinging into the air on his ass next to the wall, "Something just pushed me against the wall!"

Sil put her hand out to help Memo stand up and then looked back at Y/n in worry, "Is this place like… haunted? What was that?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. You guys should probably leave, though. I'll clean up. I'm really sorry about this."

Memo stepped toward Y/n, "You need to come with us. It's not safe. It felt like someone grabbed my shirt and pushed me… slammed me! Whatever it is, is very strong and very angry."

Shaking her head she looked from her cousin to Memo, "No. I'll be fine. I promise."

It took a little convincing for Sil and Memo to accept that Y/n wasn't going to be leaving with them with Sil pouting and giving her a long hug outside, "Are you sure? I'm going to call you when we get back. I'm really worried about what just happened in there."

"I'll be fine. Okay? You don't need to worry about anything."

When they were down the street Y/n let out a breath and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what had happened in there.

It was Harry. Her gentle, easily spooked ghost, who had somehow flipped a switch and scared the shit out of Memo and her cousin.

When she stepped inside she straightened out her coffee table and looked around the living room, "Harry? Please come out and talk to me. I need to see you, okay? I'm not mad about what you just did but I think we need to talk about it. About why you did that."

She was startled when she turned and there he was. She had expected to need to plead with him for a little longer.

"I'm sorry."

Looking up at him Y/n shook her head, "Why did you do that? Was it because you didn't like him? Memo?"

He nodded, "I didn't like how he was looking at you when you'd turn away. Like you were a piece of meat or something. He was flirting with you."

She smiled, "You didn't like him flirting with me?"

"It's just that… I don't know," Harry turned and ran his fingers into his hair, "I'm stuck. I don't get to have anything good but people like… Memo," he spat the name like it was bitter in his mouth, "Get to enjoy whatever they want." He turned to look at her again, "He could have you if he wanted. It's so easy for him."

"Well, you're wrong. He can't have me if I'm not interested, which I'm not. Not my type."

"He's not?"

She shook her head, "No."

Harry groaned and looked down at the floor, "Doesn't matter anyway, does it? No matter how I feel about anything, about you… I don't get to have you. I don't get to fall in love and live happily ever after. I've made it so that I'll suffer in sadness forever. This is what I deserve for what I did to myself. Might as well watch you fall in love with another man while I'm at it."

Stepping toward him, she slowly reached her hand out toward his, "Hey, look at me."

She swore it was like looking at a real man. His eyes were so green and so sad as he placed his gaze on hers. "Is that what you want? That we could be –together?"

"Doesn't matter what I want."

She took his hand in hers, "Yes it does. It matters. You matter to me. And to be honest," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on his, "As long as I'm here and you're here, I don't think I need anyone else."

Frown lines carved in between his eyes as he looked down at her hand, "You can't say that. You don't know. I can't give you what you need."

"And what is it you think I need that you can't give me?"

"A real relationship. I couldn't meet your family or… anyone. I couldn't –touch you. Not really. I know this doesn't feel the same," he squeezed at her fingers. "It's not warm. It's not real. And if you wanted to have a family… well obviously I can't give you that either."

"Your hand feels pretty real to me, Harry. It's not quite as warm as if you were flesh and blood but you're firm against my skin. I feel you. And that kiss… I can't stop thinking about how nice it was. I liked that. I like how you did it."

"Really?"

A wider grin spread over her face as she watched the edge of his lip quirk upward, "And I've never wanted kids anyway so I don't care about that."

"You don't?"

Shaking her head she smiled, "Never. But we haven't known each other all that long so you wouldn't have known that about me. You also wouldn't have known that I don't really like going out unless I have to. It's why I bought this house. To be away from people. But I do get lonely so when I met you it felt like a special gift."

"When you moved in it did feel different for me too. I wanted to be your friend right off."

"See? We can be friends. We can maybe even be more. I know it's weird probably… I'm not particularly normal, though. But… I was already imagining what it might be like. You and me. It's not perfect but life isn't perfect and maybe we can find some happiness together."

Harry had been jealous of Memo, Y/n had figured that much. He hadn't really hurt him, just scared him. And in a way, she was glad that he was spooked and left relatively quickly so she didn't have to take his number and then sit in that awkward moment where she didn't give him hers back or have to explain later to her cousin why she never called him.

What would she use as her reason? Well, she'd probably simply just say she wasn't interested. But knowing Sil, there would be some pushback – You don't even really know him. He's the sweetest! Give him one date…

The real explanation, which she'd be unable to express, would be that she had already met someone and she wanted to find out what would happen with it. That the ghost that lived in her house with her, the one who'd pushed Memo, was warmer, sweeter, smarter, and more handsome than Memo by leaps and bounds.

Not that Memo wasn't a catch. But Y/n liked Harry much more. Even if he was a ghost. And maybe him being a ghost was better for her in a way. Of course, she was insane. Perhaps if she were a more well-adjusted person with healthy relationships she'd be interested in living men. But most men made her uncomfortable.

"What if –we just see?" Y/n placed her hand on his arm over his sweater as she kept his hand in hers, "Would that be okay with you?"

"I just don't think I can satisfy you how you need."

"So far you've done a great job of making me happy. I haven't felt this way about someone before. It's unconventional, yes, I know. But so what?"

He turned to face her, "So what…" he mimicked her words before he moved his hand to place at her hip. She could feel the weight of it on her side, "I can kiss you again?"

"Yes, Harry. Please do."

He leaned down slowly before she felt his nose bump into hers and then his lips press over her mouth. And it was sweet and emotional. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close as if he realized suddenly he couldn't let her get away.

It was different than kissing someone with skin and warm blood and saliva on their tongue. But she could feel it. Feel him pressed into her, his body his mouth, his hands on her back. She could feel his neck on her palm and it might have just been better than any other kiss ever. Because it was Harry she was kissing.

She felt him open his mouth and close his lips around her bottom lip, felt him poke his tongue against hers… so different but still it was real and so nice. He was conscious and he was kissing her and holding her.

Y/n pushed her hand up his neck and let her fingers card through his hair, whispy silk between her fingers. Every bit of him had mass even if it didn't feel quite the same, it was so close and that only excited her, made her insides light up and liquify.

She could tell he really seemed to enjoy it too, small moans fell from his throat as he brought a hand up to her jaw and kissed downward to her neck. Like he knew what he was doing. But he did know, didn't he? He was once a man, living on earth, meeting women and no doubt had at least some experience.

Y/n couldn't imagine that someone who looked like Harry would have trouble in that department. So he knew what he was doing.

And when he moved against her hips she felt a solid lump under his pants poking against her. Even though he said that it could be visible and that he could feel aroused, it still surprised her. Especially that she could feel it. A decent-sized lump. And she wouldn't classify that as just a lump either… more like the bulge of a man who was nicely endowed.

Her body was hot. She needed more. Gripping onto his back she pasted herself against him, letting him curve around her as he kissed her neck and her jaw. He was better than any man she'd met already. Sensual and full of emotion.

When he placed his mouth back against hers she realized that her back was pressed into the wall. She hadn't even realized they'd moved at all. With a moan, she raised her leg and hitched her thigh over his hip. Part of her thought that might deter him or make him stop. Maybe he'd be too shy or he'd tell her they didn't need to do that, but what happened instead was that he went in harder, hips glued to hers as he reached down to grasp her thigh to keep it in place.

And now the swollen bulge was pressed over her dress right where her pelvis was and he rocked against her.

"Oh god… Harry…." her words were mushed into his mouth as he kept kissing her.

"Y/n…"

"Let's go to bed."

Again, she thought perhaps it might be too much for him. That he'd try and slow down or maybe he'd back away… But she gasped when he picked her up and held her under her thighs and brought her to the bedroom. Like he'd just been waiting for permission and the shy and conflicted man from earlier was all but gone.

Her head was placed on her pillow, with his palm under her neck as he smothered her mouth with his. Y/n moved her legs apart for him and he settled against her, using his free hand to clasp over her hip.

It felt so good to be with him that way. It was exciting and soft and it made her insides ache. Reaching down for the button on his trousers he parted from the kiss and looked down at her hands as she pulled his pants open.

"I don't know if… it's gonna be different. I haven't done this before. Like this."

"It's okay. Will it feel good for you?"

He nodded, "Yes. I can still feel like that. Just don't know what'll be like for you."

Y/n bit her lip and pushed herself up, "I'm gonna take off my dress. Okay?"

"Okay. Should I… I don't know what to do."

It was funny that only moments before he was carrying her to the bed but now he was unsure of himself once again. She figured it would take some getting used to, "Can your clothes come off? Is it possible?"

"Yes. Should I take them off?"

Y/n smiled and cupped his cheek, "If you want to. If you want to find out what it'll feel like with me. It's up to you."

He nodded and pulled at his sweater, bringing it up over his head and Y/n reached for his torso, smoothing her hand up to his pecs and shoulders. He was fit and looked strong. Tattoos on his chest and his arms. It wasn't what she expected exactly. She had seen the peek of tattoos on his hand but hadn't imagined he had many more. She'd been wrong.

Lifting herself she slid her dress off and unplucked her bra to get rid of the uncomfortable thing, tossing them to the floor as she watched him bring his pants down. He had on blue boxer shorts. She didn't want to let her mind go there, but she wondered if those were the last clothes he wore as a living person. Most likely.

He looked at her, searching her face and then his gaze dropped over her body. Her breasts, her tummy, her panties. She reached for his hand to place on her breast, "What does it feel like?"

Harry blinked his eyes closed, "It feels real." He reached up with his other hand to cup her opposite side and softly massaged, opening his eyes to watch as his palms smushed and slid over her skin.

Y/n inhaled as she let him group and knead. The gentle fondling was perfect.

Harry adjusted his position, bending his knees as he leaned in and looked at her, mouth nearing her nipple, "Can I?"

Nodding she placed her hand in his hair when she felt his mouth on her tit. She could hardly tell the difference. It wasn't wet and warm but his mouth was on her. He switched sides and focused on her nipple.

"Fuck… Harry that feels good."

Looking up at her he pulled away, "Does it?"

"Yes. You're really good. I like this. How do you feel?"

"I like it too. A lot. I feel…" he shook his head, lips parted, "Like a man. Like I'm alive again."

Y/n reached down for his thigh and ran her hand upward, "Can I touch you too?"

He looked down at his lap, blue boxer shorts tented from his erection as he nodded and shifted to his knees so he could bring them down and off.

And fuck if he just didn't look completely real. Like a live man with a big cock and soft green eyes looking at her for approval.

Y/n got to her knees and dragged her hands down his chest and over the silky bits of hair, "You're very handsome. I've never seen a more attractive man, Harry. Everything about you…"

When her palm found the underside of him there was weight to it. Bulk. She was having a difficult time understanding it all. That he wasn't flesh, nor alive, but that he was conscious and he was solid. The moment her palm dragged upward on his length, fingers curling around his shaft he sputtered a deep moan.

"Feels good?"

He nodded, "Just like when I… from a long time ago."

"When you were still alive? When you had a woman in your bed with you?"

He nodded again, "Yes."

"Good. I want to make you feel good."

He moaned again as she worked her fist over him. He was long and he had girth. A very nice cock for a ghost, she laughed to herself about how her inner dialogue was working itself out.

"I want to make you feel good too," he placed a hand at her hip over her cotton panties and she smiled at him. Of course, he did. Harry seemed like a giver. That much she did know.

Releasing him from her hand, she peeled her panties off and Harry quickly pushed her down to the bed and tucked in between her legs, hands sliding up her inner thighs, "You're so pretty."

Y/n giggled and turned her eyes to her ceiling. No one would ever believe she was doing something like this. Hell, she hardly believed it herself. When she looked back at Harry she pulled his hand to bring up to her center, "You can touch if you want. In fact, you can do whatever you like. I trust you."

His lips parted as he grazed his fingertips through her labia and kept his eyes on her pussy. Soft strokes up and down like he was inspecting until he slid his pointer finger up to her clit and looked into her eyes as he started to circle, "You're getting wet. That feels good?"

A laugh puffed from her lips as she nodded, "It feels so good. You make me wet, Harry."

His brows pinched together as he leaned over her body to kiss her, fingers still gently circling her bud. She reached down to stroke him in her hand, making him moan into her mouth.

He thrust into her hand softly as he pressed a finger inside of her. She inhaled sharply, "Yes…"

"Yeah?" He panted against her mouth, finger tucked inside of her thrusting as she pumped him the best she could with the angle.

And he might have been a ghost but when he added another finger the gushy sound her pussy made couldn't be mistaken. As if something solid was plunging into her. Which made her certain his dick would be the same. Better.

Pushing at his chest he backed away from the kiss as she pulled his shaft, angling his tip at her mons, just above where he was pumping his fingers into her, "You can if you want. I think it'll feel good."

He didn't say anything but when he pulled his fingers out and grasped around his cock, hand over hers he kept his pupils pinned to her eyes as he dragged his tip through her pussylips and down to her opening.

The moment he began to penetrate they both dropped their mouths open. It felt just like it should. Two people connecting with their bodies and their emotions. The friction felt different inside of her but she could feel the weight and the circumference of him slowly sliding into her walls.

As he blew out a harsh breath, she could feel it on her neck. It wasn't humid nor warm, but she felt the draft against her skin as he buried in.

"Can you feel me?"

Y/n reached her hands around his back, "I can feel all of you. Keep going."

He dropped his hips down against hers, pushing himself in and then easing back, dragging through her insides deliciously.

"I can feel how wet it is around me. So warm… Squeezing…"

She panted as she placed her feet flat on the mattress and rolled up against him, her clit pressing into his pelvis as he rocked into her so gently. So easy and so soft, but the swollen length inside of her was anything but soft. She felt every inch of it as he worked in and pulled back.

"It's so hard. Harry, you feel so good," she mewled before he pushed his lips against hers again.

Her old bed creaked in time with his languid pace. He held her tight, one hand at the back of her head and the other wrapped under her back as he fucked himself into her warm, gummy channel.

As fantastic as Y/n felt she imagined for him it was even better. He could feel her temperature and the moisture of her arousal, he could feel the tightness of her around him as he drove into her and surely he could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

She was in heaven. Y/n would swear off men forever if she could have this with Harry. They could have soft, lazy days together in silence, go mushroom hunting together in the afternoons, and have deep conversations about the world and biology and books they'd read… then go to bed together every night with full hearts. She'd be satisfied with him. It didn't matter what people thought of her. The strange woman who moved into the woods to live alone, never married or had kids, never had an interest in dating…

He grunted as he began to plunge in harder. He was feeling it. Just like any man would. His release, whatever that might look like for a ghost, was coming. She lifted her hips against his thrusts as he wound his lips around her slowly. The faster he moved his hips and worked into her the louder her mattress squeaked under her.

She gasped as he ground into her, swiveling his hips and groaning into her mouth, "Right there…" She panted.

If he kept his pelvis against her clit she'd come, "Don't stop. Just like that…"

So he rocked against her like she wanted, pelvis pasted to her clit as he tucked in deeper and filled her insides with his sturdy mass. She felt his hand move down, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as she ran her tongue against his.

With their bodies glued together, Harry's big cock stuffing her and his hips down against hers she began to shake. He flexed his glutes and thighs as he continued sliding into her, raking against her walls, patting against her softly when her metal headboard started to hit her wall with every other plunge.

Harry stopped abruptly but Y/n draped a leg over his low back and pressed her hands into his bum, "Keep going. I'm gonna come…"

Shifting against her he prodded into her guts that time, making her hiss as he dragged his lips down to her neck.

"Oh fuck…" she moaned into the dark room as he plowed into her tummy, sucking on her delicate skin between panted breaths.

She loved how it felt to have him curled around her like that, arm holding her close, hips pressed against hers as his thighs pushed against the underside of her own. She loved how he did it so tenderly but so needy.

Because it'd been a long long time since he'd had sex. The poor guy had been moping in the shadows for so long, he deserved a warm pussy to enjoy. He deserved her.

When she started to come her lips parted and she sobbed his name. She also hadn't had sex in a long time. Not with another person anyway. And Harry was just as much a man (more so even) than what she'd had in the past. He grunted against her neck as she arched into him, her pussy clenching and sucking him in as she released around him.

He whimpered and then moaned loudly and suddenly he pulled his arm from under her back and took both hands to hold her hips down as he pounded into her, the frame of her bed slapping into the wall and creaking loudly as he came. His big cock was pushing into her depth, bulbous head dragging into her guts as he orgasmed. He gasped and panted as he rutted in and then stilled his hips as he bottomed out inside of her.

She rather enjoyed the way he manhandled her at the end. Holding her down so he could fuck into her to finish himself off like that. The gruff noises he was making and the pinch of pain she felt from having something so hard and so big drill into her tummy was actually quite pleasant. Satisfying.

And just as if he were alive and needed oxygen in his lungs, his chest was heaving as he looked down at he, letting go of her hips, pulling her up into his arms, and dragging her into his lap.

"Are you okay?" He asked her as he kissed her cheek and placed his palm on the back of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, "I'm so good. That was so good, Harry."

He looked at her, holding her face in his hands, "It was?"

Nodding she ran her fingers up his back, "The best."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

Y/n would have loved to tell everyone about her boyfriend. About how happy she was and how amazingly well they got along. But she couldn't. Because if she did some of the more nosy ones (her mom for example) would want to meet him. Would want to invite him over for a family dinner so everyone could meet him.

And when she'd have to tell her mom that he wouldn't be joining them for dinner she'd be convinced that he was a lowlife. A deadbeat. Which was the furthest thing from the truth.

No. He's not a flake. He's a ghost.

So, she just told everyone she was happiest single. That men were garbage anyway (that was true).

She was happy. And so was Harry.

"I feel like this is what I was supposed to do. Meet you in the afterlife. Well, my afterlife. So our timelines would fit together."

Y/n grinned and dropped a mushroom into her basket, "I think so too. We were meant to meet, weren't we?"

Harry smiled and looked up at the sun poking through the canopy of the trees above, "It's all I ever wanted."

Y/n took his hand and looked up at the trees with him. Most of them had lost their leaves as the weather was turning chillier. This was the time of year, Harry said, that his favorite mushrooms were out. Chicken of the woods and oyster. She was going to saute them with butter and eat with the pot of lentil soup she had started before they went out to forage.

Squeezing his hand and leaning into his arm she turned her gaze from the trees to her handsome ghost, "It's all I ever wanted too."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

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livingfictionsystem · 5 months ago

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Imagine if people talked about multi-person households with the same thick-headed skepticism they use to talk about systems.

"You're telling me you're not the only one in there? Like if I knock, someone else could answer, and I'm supposed to call them a new name and everything? But it'll look like the same house? Yeah, okay. 🤣"

"Your roommate's name is ____? That's a dumb name, why did you choose that?"

"You bought your roommate a present? You mean you got it for yourself, right?'

"You put up that poster? Oh, I'm sorry, your 'roommate' did. 🙄"

"Roommates? You sure you don't want to check if your house is just haunted?"

-Xhaxhollari 🕊

#dissociative identity disorder #did system #did alters #fake claiming #it really is like this though #systemphobia #plural #sysblr

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slytherinslut0 · 3 days ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 23rd. tom riddle — wet dreams, house rivals.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.

You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.

But lately, it isn't sound that been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.

Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.

It's maddening.

They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.

You know it's more than that.

He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.

You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.

You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.

So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.

It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.

And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—

"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"

Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.

"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."

You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.

"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"

He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”

There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.

"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."

That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.

"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"

"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"

"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"

He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—

"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"

Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.

And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.

"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"

"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"

He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—

"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"

"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"

He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.

"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"

Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—

"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"

He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.

"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."

"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"

"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"

The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.

"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"

His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.

"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"

You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.

"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"

"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."

Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"

He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.

"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"

Watc—oh no.

A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—

"Tom—"

He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—

And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.

You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.

"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."

You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—

"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"

"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"

You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—

"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"

"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."

"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"

"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."

Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—

"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"

He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—

"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."

"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"

You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—

"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"

You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—

"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"

As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.

"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."

"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"

"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"

Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.

"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"

"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"

He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"

"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."

"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"

"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"

"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“

"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"

"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"

"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."

You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck—“

He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."

And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—

"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."

You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.

"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"

"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"

"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."

You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.

Dear god, what happened to you.

“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."

"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"

"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.

You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—

"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."

"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."

He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."

You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.

"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.

"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."

You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.

"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.

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wholoveseggs · 6 months ago

Text

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

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sp0o0kylights · 2 months ago

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I know halloween just ended and I have technically missed my window for Haunted House Steddie but I put to you

1) its a haunted corn maze not a house, they're in Indiana after all

2) Steve (and most of the party) have seen so much actually awful shit that the scare actors in cheap costumes (that they themselves have added onto for the love of the game mind) just aren't scary.

Like they're there to ACT scared, to have a fun time and giggle sure, but it's mostly them laughing at each other.

Cue something happening where either they stumble across someone whose terrified and has to be escorted out (Holly or one of Hellfire makes the most sense but Tommy is the funniest) and Steve's Older Brother instincts kick in.

I'm imagining scare actor Eddie, having the time of his life, suddenly witnessing Steve and Robin's personalities "switch." They go from laughing and jumpy and well, like everyone else, to just dead calm.

Robin's leaning in, asking if the panicked party wants to be escorted out through an exit or if they want her and Steve to ruin it for them, and Eddie is fatalistically curious as to *how exactly* they can ruin the maze, only for Steve to lean in and loudly whisper;

"Are you really gonna let the theater kids have this much power over you?"

He can't help it he laughs so hard he gives himself up, and then ends up helping the trio get out of the maze.

He offers to escort Steve and Robin back in rather than make them go back to the front and pay a second time, but makes a comment about their personality change.

Steve shrugs and tells him they've seen some shit and Robin adds that this stuff is too corny (pun intended) to be frightening.

Cue Eddie telling them he WILL scare them at the end of the night.

Steve tells him if he can pull it off he'll buy pizzas for the next Hellfire game.

TLDR Eddie does indeed end up scaring them but it's by accident when he falls off a ladder in a scare attempt and hurts himself. Steve panics at *that*, rushing over to check Eddie didn't crack his skull open. Admonishes Eddie for scaring him and the second the words are out of his mouth, Eddie's got a hand in the air as he wheezes;

"VICTORY!!!"

Then Steve forces Eddie to hang out with him all night as he's absolutely convinced the idiot has a head injury and Eddie makes six million nurse Stevie jokes the end

#id make it make steddiefied #but im tired lol #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #haunted house #corn maze #scare actor eddie

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kamisatomay018 · 1 month ago

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I’ll Always Stand Up For You

Zayne x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst with lots of comfort and love, him being protective over reader. Reader is not MC. Mentions of childhood trauma and toxic parents and family members.

Plot: you take him to meet your family after the two of you got engaged, upon his insistence. What he never knew was just how bad the situation at your home truly was. But one thing is clear: he will not sit quietly and listen.

The day Zayne proposed was the happiest day of your life. He was everything you could’ve ever asked for. He made you the happiest woman alive, and taking this next big step with him felt so right.

Even though his parents were always travelling around in the most perilous locations in the world, upon hearing of the news of your engagement, they immediately came to linkon, absolutely overjoyed for you both. Zayne was ecstatic to see his parents again; and your time with them was filled with laughter and nostalgic conversations of when the two of you were young.

Being with his parents seemed to heal a deeply wounded side of you, one that had never known the comfort of parental love and warmth. Zayne knew that your relationship with your parents was…strained, to put it lightly. And so seeing you bond with his parents, laugh and converse with them warmed his heart.

But then came the dreaded moment you had been praying earnestly to avoid: Zayne requesting to pay your parents a visit. He had been very patient and understanding, reinforcing the fact that he would never force you to go if you truly did not wish to see them again. But being the traditional man he was, he wanted your parents to know that their daughter was getting married. He didn’t care if they gave their blessings or not, he simply wanted his conscience to be clear.

You had been very hesitant about the matter, as it had been years since you had left your parents’ house. Each day you had spent living with them was pure agony: they seemed to hate you for simply existing. All your life, you tried to do everything you could to make them proud, to make them happy and become worthy of their affection. But you couldn’t even come close. They would always compare you to your older sister, reminding you that you would never be able to live upto her legacy.

Each word they had spoken haunted you well into your adulthood. You grew up to become a perfectionist, deeply insecure of your own abilities and deathly afraid of failure, of not being good enough. Zayne was the only person who had been able to help you through it, even though many a times he didn’t even realise that his quiet and gentle assurance was healing something he had never broken.

He had been your pillar, always supporting you and believing in you. He had loved you when you felt undeserving of it, he had cradled you through failure and cheered you through success. He was your everything.

Which is why you decided to agree to his request. Even though Zayne knew of your difficult relationship with your family, he never fully knew just till what extent it used to go to, because you had been too traumatised to speak of it, and he never pressurised you. He instead focused on making every day you spent with him the happiest day you could possibly imagine.

So here you were, sitting beside Zayne in front of your parents, staring blankly at your plate of food. To say that your parents had been baffled hearing of your engagement was an understatement. After all, they never thought someone would want to marry you. And the moment they saw Zayne, the epitome of perfection in a man walk in, they were certain you had either threatened him, or manipulated him into marrying you.

The conversations between Zayne and your parents had been…Stressful. The way they spoke so condescendingly of you while covering it up with mock laughter baffled him. But he wanted to be a respectful gentleman, so he would refute their every nonsensical claim with high praise of you. He boasted proudly of your achievements in linkon, of your success. But to his utter astonishment, they never seemed to care, only talking endlessly about their older daughter. What was wrong with these people?

He regretted asking you to come here so much. Seeing how quiet and dejected you had gotten only pained him further. So he would hold your hand, squeezing it softly as if he was apologetic, which he truly was. You only gave him a soft smile in response, not wanting him to feel guilty.

For a while everything was quiet as lunch was served. But of course, your parents had to stir up trouble.

“So Zayne, does this girl cook for you or not? When she was here, she would barely get out of her room. I hope she’s not that lazy anymore?” Your mom said, once again covering up the insult aimed at you with laughter. You stopped chewing immediately, feeling sick to your stomach. God, when would this end.

Zayne’s patience was running thin now. Respect be damned, he would not stand this behaviour anymore. He looked at your mother with cold eyes. “Ma’am, I asked her to be my wife, not my servant. As a doctor and her fiance, I generally like to prepare healthy meals for the both of us daily because she works very hard. And at night, we cook together.”

Your mother scoffed at that, glaring at you. “How could you make your fiance cook for you huh!? He’s a doctor, a renowned one at that! Do you think you work so hard? God knows how you managed to seduce such a perfect man, and now you don’t even treat him properly!? Your sister deserves him, not you!”

Tears filled your eyes as you felt the wounds from your childhood reopen. You looked down, breathing shakily. That didn’t last long though as Zayne stood up abruptly, his eyes glaring daggers at your parents. His evol caused the temperature in the room to drop, signalling just how angry he had gotten.

“Enough is enough. How dare you insult my fiance like this? All evening I have watched you tear her down, insult her and disregard her achievements. And now you have the audacity to raise your voice at MY soon to be wife? I did not come here to watch you ridicule the love of my life. People like you should be ashamed to even call yourself parents.”

You looked up at him through teary eyes, your heart skipping a beat. No one had ever stood up for you like that, no one had ever fought for your respect the way he was doing right now. Your parents were stunned, scrambling for words to respond with.

“Your daughter is the most precious woman I have ever met in my life. The most thoughtful, loving, kind and beautiful girl that I never thought fate would bless me with. Every day, she makes me so proud, and I feel blessed, knowing that I get to spend the rest of my life with her. I feel nothing but pity and anger for people like you, because you are too narrowly concerned with yourselves and your older daughter. This is the last time you will be seeing or hearing from either of us. Oh and, do not even try to expect an invitation to the wedding.”

Zayne then looked at you; your teary eyes hurting his soul. But he smiled at you reassuringly, holding your hand as he lead you away from the wretched place. He would make sure to love you even more to replace the pain your parents had inflicted on you in all these years. As soon as you both reached near his car, he pulled you into an embrace.

“I am so unbelievably sorry my love. I should’ve never asked you to do this..”

You shook your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. “No zayne, in fact..I’m so glad you did..” you cupped his cheeks softly, holding him close. “Do you have any idea just how much you’ve healed me, when you never even broke me..? And what you did back there..I never felt so loved and protected before. No one has ever stood up for me like that..”

Zayne felt his eyes soften so much, as he held your hand, kissing your knuckles. “I will always stand up for you. You are my pride, you are my strength and you are my love. I am the luckiest man ever to have you in my life, my jasmine.”

You felt yourself smile so much, the inner child in you healing after so many years because she knew that her knight in shining armour was here now. With his protection, no one would harm you again.

Author’s note: hii you guys I hope you enjoyed reading this! Should I turn this plot into a series for the rest of the boys? Lemme know in the comments or feel free to send in any requests you have!🫶

#love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #dr zayne #l&ds zayne #lads #lds zayne #zayne #zayne x you #lnd zayne #zayne fluff #doctor zayne #zayne x reader #lnds zayne

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darkshrimpemotions · 21 days ago

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You know, the counter to criticism of John has always been "John did the best he could under those circumstances" but that argument REALLY falls apart hard when the show gives us multiple examples of other hunters who had kids and provided them with stable homes or at the very least, didn't abuse, neglect, and exploit their children to the degree John did.

Bill and Ellen Harvelle. Krissy's dad. Tasha Banes. Hell, Mary's parents, even.

Hunters are all traumatized people who've lost someone, and yet not all hunters with children left them alone in hotel rooms for days or weeks at a time without enough money or food, used them as bait for a shtriga or god knows what else (I haven't forgotten or forgiven Dead Man's Blood), put them in danger constantly, isolated them even from other hunters, or emotionally abused them to have no self worth and view "I'm proud of you" as a dangerously out of character statement from their parent.

Jo grew up safe at home with her mom, viewing her dad coming home as an occasion for joy. After her dad died, her mother tried EVERYTHING to keep Jo from hunting to keep her safe, and finally only started hunting again herself to protect Jo. Dean reminisces about "when dad got home" with a haunted look in his eyes. Dean was hunting werewolves at sixteen. When Sam was afraid of the thing in his closet, John gave him a .45.

Krissy wanted to be by her dad's side all the time. Her dad even quit hunting, laid down whatever reasons made him start, to give her a shot at a better life. Dean gets quiet and changes the subject when asked if he misses his dad. Sam's fondest memories are of getting away from John. John drove his kids nearly to death with his obsession. Spent Sam's college fund on ammo.

Max and Alicia Banes were part of a community. Their understanding of hunters' funerals included friends and family gathered to celebrate the life of the departed. Sam and Dean knew very few hunters before John died. They only knew how to grieve in isolated silence around a solitary pyre.

Mary grew up in a house. She slept warm in a bed in a room of her own. She had family dinners. When she said the worst thing she could imagine was her kids being raised like she was, she meant hunting by itself. And I'm not saying hunting is good or healthy! It's not.

But it was the worst thing she could imagine. She couldn't even imagine the abuse, neglect, deprivation, instability, and hunger her children would one day endur on top of hunting.

But sure, yeah. John definitely did the best he could under the circumstances.

#john winchester's a+ parenting #supernatural #dig him up so i can kill him again actually

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hiding-under-the-willow · 13 days ago

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I am being brave and wandering into your ask box so you can ramble about the ghost au. It looks neat and I'm so curious owo

YAY YEAH YIPPEE!!!

Okay I'm just gonna try and synthesize all of the random notes I've written in the last few days into something of a vaguely coherent list lol

Grian and Joel are roommates looking for a new flat when they get the call that Grian has inherited a house, they very impulsively and foolishly decide to keep the thing that is way too large and far too run down for the two of them to handle, the house is so incredibly haunted, normal bbc ghosts plot ensues

Grian is the one who almost dies and ends up being able to see ghosts. Mumbo is the one who pushes him out the window. Which is ironic bc Mumbo was very much not pro killing the new inhabitants of the house when the other ghosts were scheming ways to get rid of them.

Okay so ghost facts.

Bdubs is obviously highly based on Robin the caveman, I imagine him being slightly closer to the end of the paleolithic period than Robin. I think he may or may not have had some weird cult stuff going in. Weird cult leader caveman guy worshiping the sun and moon. Yes the cloak is real moss. There's bugs in that thing

Wels and Hels killed eachother in a duel, right on the property line, which now neither of them can cross in death. So now both of them is just stuck on either side of the fence seething about it for the rest of time. I like how ridiculous and arbitrary the ghost property line rules are in ghosts, so I find this incredibly funny. Hels is the guy Black Knight stories are based on

Ren wasn't actually a king, he was some type of noble who tried to declare himself king of a specific area, hence the beheading. Whooooooo let's go treason!!

Cleo was not doing actual witch craft at the time she was accused of it, she was however probably doing other illegal and vaguely fucked stuff. Mayhaps that's why she was accused, someone wanted her out of the way and that was an easy and surefire way to get rid of her

Keralis. My silly silly little guy. Our Kitty stand in. I just thought the idea of him dying from pufferfish poisoning was really funny considering him and XB's whole thing. I wanna have XB around, I can't decide if I want him to be a marine biologist of some kind who drowned on the next property over that keralis talks to over the fence, or if he's just like a grounds keeper who takes care of the lake next door that keralis is parasocially obsessed with lol

Beef. Beef my beloved. Period piece romance novel protagonist looking mf <3 He grew up in a family of butchers, became an impressionist painter instead of joining the family business. Focused a lot on pastoral scenes, especially stuff involving farm animals and especially cows. His family thought his career choice was kind of useless and frivolous, his artist colleagues thought his choice of painting subject was kind of frivolous. That's where he got the nickname 'Beef', now it's all anyone remembers him by, AND the fucking paints killed him 😔

Scar!!! The scammiest fucking traveling salesman on the planet. Death of a Salesman death of the American dream type vibes on that guy. He's gotta pay his medical bills somehow man, can't even really blame him for all the grifting. He probably should've been more careful with who he was scamming though, he maybe pissed off the wrong guy (do not scam mobsters! They will have someone kill you about it!)

Xisuma, given the greatest honor of being my Captian stand in. He was a sharp shooter, until his eye got fucked up and he lost his good aim. They shipped him off to the country side to work in 'intelligence', he takes his job very seriously despite this obviously just being somewhere they put him to not have to deal with him. Seriously enough in fact to discover a spy in their ranks! Just in time for that spy to kill him real bad. Damn.

Joe my absolutely beloved. Pat stand in but not quite. He was a popular radio host, he did a lot of volunteer work as a voice/performer for hire. He gets recruited to do some announcer work for a scouting event. There is, mayhaps, a much more. Uh. DIY. Scouting event happening on the next property over. There is an accident involving some homemade fireworks next door (cubfan. when I get you cubfan.), the fireworks going off scares some kid in the middle of fucking around with a bow, Joe gets shot, you can assume the rest. Cub is ghosting around next door cause of the fireworks accident if it makes you feel any better lol

Mumbo my stupid nervous guy. Ran a large tech startup in the late 90s, should not have been given that kind of power over a company. Accidentally did like. A lot of finance crime. Found out about said finance crime and immediately had a fucking heartattack and died from the panic. My cringe fail businessman I love you

Yeah yeah okay so neighbor ghosts. Cub, Hels, maybe XB, and Gem.

Etho is their weird annoying neighbor, he can also see ghosts, but it'll take awhile for everyone to figure that out.

In the same way Grian can see ghosts bc Mumbo tried to kill him, Etho can see ghosts bc Hels tried to kill him (haven't decided how exactly that went down yet)

I've been thinking about what to do with the basement ghosts and I think I want to put team zits down there.

Uh. Other human cast. Jimmy is around! He kind of fills an Obi type role, silly friend who is just kind of around a lot. I think I wanna have Lizzie as like a local barista Joel has a crush on. The ghosts get in his way every time he tries to make a move on her.

Obviously a lot of the ghosts aren't strict one to one fill ins for the original show's ghosts. Ren and Beef are both kind of drawing elements from both Thomas and Humphrey, Wels and X are both kind of drawing from Fanny and Cap, Scar and Mumbo both kind of combine to make up Julian's character. So on and so forth. All of the stuff with Etho and his property's ghosts is obviously all stuff I just did cause I thought it was fun lol

Oh yeah! Ghost powers! Okay obvious stuff, Bdubs has Robin's ability to fuck with lights, Cleo has the same burning smell as Mary, Mumbo can push stuff like Julian. Non obvious stuff. I want Joe to be able to be heard through like radios and phones and such. Hels has to have something to have almost killed Etho but I've yet to decide what that is. If Hels has something I think it would be funny to then have Wels also have the same power, but like. Weaker. So he can be pissy about it. Obviously.

Uh yeah that's all i can think of off the top of my head

Anyways, yeah!!! That's the basic constructions of this au. I had this idea like 3 days ago and have. Obviously thought about it a lot in that time lmao

You can't put two pieces of media in front of me and not expect me to go insane about it <3

#atlas speaks #hc ghosts au #I've gotten like 5 other asks in the time it took me to type all this omg #I'll go through those in a bit to see if there's anything i can elaborate on #I'm so glad people like this au it's infested my brain so fucking bad #glad i can inflict it on other people #long post

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irisinluv · 2 months ago

Text

Yandere Demon

They were supposed to steal your soul. Haunt you for a bit, feast on your fear, and then when your terror was at its peak, consume your very being. It’s an easy enough job. They’ve done it countless times. So imagine their surprise when their routine gets disrupted.

You’re washing your face at the sink, eyes closed as you massage your skin, splashing water onto your face as you lean over the basin. The demon is behind you, lined up perfectly so when you inevitably stand up, you’ll catch just a glimpse of them before they disappear. You’re bent over the sink, pausing as the water fills your cupped hands. You splash the water into your face to rinse the soap. They watch and wait for you to finish and straighten…. you pause as your hands fill with water, you splash it in your face. You pause as your hands fill with water… and you land a swift back kick towards them, whirling around with a viscous cry, teeth barred as water droplets fling from your still damp skin, fluffy cat ear headband not detracting from the terror the demon feels as their victim hurls a toothbrush holder at their head.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU PERVERT!”

They’re so shocked and frightened that it takes them getting whacked in the temple with a curling wand to remember that they can dematerialize.

You pant as you frantically look around for where the intruder may have gone. You’d caught a glimpse of them behind you while bent over the sink. Just able to see part of their legs in your upside down vision. You acted on instinct, fight or flight kicked in…. Literally kicked.

The demon, now invisible, yet still shrinking back, expecting another blow, watches in shock as you dial 911 to report a “masked intruder”…. They’re a being of darkness? An old god? Not some mortal in a Halloween mask!

They’ll show you just how terrifying they can be.

Needless to say…. The demon is now YOUR demon, and they’re putting off processing the raging hard on that appeared after you attacked them.

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pyramid-of-starrs · 1 year ago

Note

Just the thought of you writing prompt 15 is a good enough reason to wake up every morning so I humbly present this as a request

San has an Idea

Kinktober request: 15 boyfriend San, bestfriend Woo, threesome

Pairing: Pervy Boyfriend San x Fem reader x Bestfriend Wooyoung

Summary: After being left behind on a group trip, you, Woo and San hangout like normal in Sans room, that is until San makes a suggestion on a group activity.

Word Count: 3.6K

Kink: Threesome

Warning: Threesome, unprotected sex, mfm threesome, mxm interactions, double penetration, ass play (m receiving)

A/N: WooSan is my biases btw

Minors dni

“We should just have a threesome."

That was Sans first words in 10 minutes. Your boyfriend San was sat at his desk while you and both of your best friend Wooyoung was sat on Sans bed just hanging out in his room since the rest of the friend group took a 1 day trip to another haunted house out of town. You both looked up from your phone, the TikTok you were showing Wooyoung still playing on a loop.

"Did you guys hear me? I said we should have a-" San said but was interrupted.

"We- We heard you, where is that coming from though?" Wooyoung said holding up his hand to halt San from saying anymore vulgar words.

"I mean why not? Woo you're bi and have had threesomes before, I'm pretty open sexually, we're all attractive and find each other attractive. I'm sure you wouldn't be opposed to fucking Y/N, it's not like you never seen us fuck before." It felt like San was going on and on with multiple points being made on why his suggestion made perfect sense.

"Hold on dude, rather I've caught you guys having sex or not doesn't really matter, this is something way different. You would honestly be completely fine with me... having sex with Y/N even if you're involved?" Wooyoung questioned.

"My sweet bunny's pretty pussy is a gift to earth, of course I don't mind sharing with my closest friend." San said, Wooyoung shook his head at San then turned to you.

"Y/N, please say something to your boyfriend." That's when Wooyoung noticed you with your knees up in the corner of the bed covering your face with your arms.

"See man you made Y/N embarrassed." Wooyoung yelled at San.

"No, she isn't." San got up from his gaming chair and walked over to the bed to sit next you. You and San were sat at the head of the bed while Wooyoung was at the foot of it, San spread his legs on the bed and patted his lap, you knew what that meant so you crawled into his lap while avoiding eye contact, you both were now facing Wooyoung but you still tried to look down to avoid eye contact.

"You see Woo I know my bunny well, really well. She has no problem voicing what she isn't interested in doing, so when she didn't respond when I asked, I already knew what she wanted." San placed his hands under your knees and lifted them to bend them for you and spread them nice and wide. The loose short shorts you were wearing already left 0 to the imagination but then San pulled them to the side to reveal your already wet pussy to Wooyoung whose face was turning red. San rubbed his fingers between your folds earning soft whimpers from you, you put your head back on his shoulder as he smiled watching you fall apart so easily. "See Woo, her pussy is already dripping at the thought of both of us fucking her, isn't that right baby?" San asked

You nodded your head as your body was heating up.

"Come on Bunny give Wooyoungie a proper response." San looked up at Wooyoung and noticed his eyes were glued to your core.

"Y-yes." you said in a low voice, San removed his hand from your core to remove your shorts. San placed his hands back over your pussy, this time focusing on rubbing your throbbing clit, you kept your mouth shut while you continued to moan, slightly feeling shy from Wooyoungs staring but turned on as well.

"Come on Woo, I know you've been wanting to touch her since I introduced you two, go ahead." San said, Wooyoung was a bit shocked that San noticed his crush on you, he moved a bit closer to the two of you.

"Are you okay with this Y/N? Do you want me to touch you?" Wooyoung asked you, he would never want to do anything you weren't comfortable with. You frantically nodded your head as San applied more pressure to your clitoris, causing you to throw your head back.

Wooyoung was still hesitant but in the back of his mind he always hoped this moment would come. You two always made Wooyoung go into Bi-panic, you and San were a hot couple, The many times he caught you two in the act he found himself not knowing if he wished he was you or San. He decided to not waste any more time and finally got closer, he sat on his knees in front of you and his eyes was glued to your core. He watched San rub circles on your clit and how you would jerk at the sensation. He stuck out his index finger and rubbed your hole to get his fingertip wet before gliding it into your dripping cunt, the feeling of both Woo and San touching you causing you to yell out a string of curse words, you didn't even notice him put his middle finger in as well until he started to pump them both in and out of you. You bit your bottom lip from the stimulation as Woo sped up his pace, your hips starting to move on Sans lap.

"Woo my bunny likes praise, tell her she's doing a good job." San said nonchalantly like he wasn't prepping his girlfriend to be fucked by himself and his best friend. Wooyoung was in somewhat of a trans feeling your gummy wet walls contract around his fingers and watching your hole gush while you moaned.

"You're taking my fingers so well Y/N, does it feel good to have me and San touching you like this?" He asked, your mind was blanking, and you could barely comprehend what was being said to you, your eyes rolled back from the praise, and you felt your climax rushing toward you.

"He asked you a question don't be rude Bunny, give him an answer." San said while lightly ripping your chin and throat.

"Yes, Woo ahh~ it feels so good, please fuck your fingers into me more." San smiled at you falling apart and started to kiss you while speeding up the pace of his fingers on your clit, even with his tongue in your mouth your muffled moans could be heard. Wooyoung felt his dick getting harder watching you two kiss, hearing you moan for San made him want to make you do the same for him, he drove his finger deeper and faster into your cunt, trying to navigate finding your spot. Your body jerked hard and you yelped when he hit it and he knew what he had to do, he leaned forward to hit even deeper into you and lifted the hoodie you had on with nothing underneath, Wooyoung had been slyly eyeing your hard nipples the entire time he was hanging out with you and San so naturally he wasted no time pressing his lips on one of them.

You were going insane, the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling between Woo and San was damn near unbearable. San finally pulled back from the kiss, his fingers going even faster on your clit because he knew you were at your peak from how loud your moans were and how he watched your body shake, Woo could feel your pussy squeezing his fingers so much that you barely had room to move. It only took a few more seconds of this before you erupted, your cum shot out of you like a hose in the summer as you soaked Wooyoung, yourself and some of the bed. Wooyoung continued to pump his fingers into you to help you ride out your high then finally pulled back, San also removed his fingers from your clit and peeked your fucked out face a few times while you heavily breathed and shook.

"Good job bunny, squirting for me and Woo like a good girl, but we aren't done yet." San grabbed the bottom of your hoodie to remove it, leaving you bare in front of them. They laid you flat on the bed, both the men ogling you like you were their last meal, they couldn't keep their hands off you, Wooyoung gently massaging your thighs while San rubbed your shoulders, the attention they were giving you made you whine from the heat that was pooling in your pussy.

San moved down your body to massage your breast and nipples, you felt so sensitive to their touch, he made eye contact with Wooyoung.

"Woo, I think my bunny wants to be stuffed in her pretty pussy, can you do that for her?" San asked, Wooyoung looked up at him.

"A-are you sure San? Do you really want me to fuck her first?" Wooyoung asked, San laughed at him then gripped your cheeks and made you face Wooyoung.

"Look at that needy face Woo, do you want her to beg for your cock?" San looked down at you. "Bunny Woo wants you to beg for him to fuck you." The way San spoke to you made your pussy throb more, truth be told you wanted nothing more but to be fucked wide open by Wooyoung, you always wanted to feel his dick inside of you. The times he caught you two having sex and Wooyoung trying to hide his obvious boners and lustful gaze or even when he would casually talk about his hook ups with various people, you couldn't help but wonder how good he fucked.

"I want it so bad Woo, I want to feel you dick so deep in me, please fuck me." you said even with San squeezing your face, Wooyoung looked at your face and met your gaze, he knew you meant every word you said.

...

Both men stripped down fully except San who still had on his boxers, though Wooyoung was a bit smaller in girth and length he still had a quite impressive member. Wooyoung was slotted between your legs with his arms on each side of your head and your legs pressing closer to your chest. San was watching you two as he stood off the bed, Wooyoung wasn't focused on San, he just wanted to make you feel good which is why San gave him permission to fuck you raw. He leaned forward more to kiss you, unlike San Woo's kisses we much steamier and more passionate, he was slower and sensual, as he kissed your lips, his tongue danced with yours, he slid his dick into your heat, he ate your moans as you felt him glide deeper and deeper into you. He released your lips, and a pop could be heard along with the wet slapping noises your pussy was making. His pace was moderate, he wanted to enjoy the feeling of your cunt.

"Your pussy feels so amazing Y/N." He said looking into your eyes, his blown out pupils looking directly into your before he locked lips with you briefly again, you could absolutely understand why so many people were in love with him after he fucked him, it was like he was snatching your soul.

"How cute, but don't get to cocky Woo." San said, the both of you almost forgetting he was there. San reached into his nightstand while you and Woo continued, Woo's pace was steady, San grabbed lube from the night stand and covered his two fingers in it. Woo was so focused on you he didn't notice San walk behind him begin to tease his hole. A cute moan fell from Wooyoungs lips as you smiled at him, his strokes became sloppy as his hips couldn't keep a consistent pace.

"Trying put the moves on my bunny while I'm letting you fuck her sweet pussy tsk tsk Woo, I guess I have to punish you both for enjoying your selves a bit too much." San said as he continued to play with the rim of Wooyoungs hole, Woo felt sensitive under Sans touch especially with him still inside of you, he just couldn't keep a good pace which started to make you feel like you were being edged, you guessed this is what San meant by punishing both of you. You and Woo moaned out of sync while San laughed at you two acting needy and fucked out. "You can't even fuck straight do you want my fingers that badly Youngie?" such a cute nickname for such a dirty moment, Wooyoungs bangs covered his blushed face as he breathed heavily barely able to contain himself.

"Y-yes, yes San..." He was shy to admit it, but he wanted his best friends fingers to fuck his hole while he fucked you, nothing sounded better.

San had such a devious smile sprawled on his face. "You're so cute Youngie of course I'll give you what you want." San plunged his two lubed finger into Wooyoung, Woo’s body collapsed on top on you causing him to drop his dick deep into you with no warning, both you cried out in pleasure. "Come on Youngie hold it together so you can fuck my bunny properly." San said into Woos ear while he slowly fucked him. Wooyoung tried getting his bearings even with San knuckles deep inside of him, he started to rut against you then gradually picked up his pace, the close proximity made his pelvis brush your clit as well, you moaned into Wooyoungs ear, causing him to moan more. Woo kept a good pace in you, but San would strongly push his fingers into Woo causing him to go deeper into you. Woo hit your spot like San was hitting his, you both let out helpless whimpers and was close to your climax.

"Woo I'm gonna cum." You mumbled out, Wooyoung nodded and pecked your lips a few more times.

"Let's cum together okay Y/N?" you nodded as well and kissed him, he last a few more seconds until San tapped his spot rapidly causing Woo to do the same to you, as you came you felt the feeling of hot cum filling your belly and it just made you want more. San slowly removed his fingers from Wooyoungs ass and Woo pulled out of you and rolled next to you, both of you were in a daze.

San removed his underwear and got a condom from his nightstand to roll down his shaft. You laid still until you felt San flip you on your side and put one of your legs on his shoulder. "Are you ready for me bunny?" San asked

"Sannie pleaseee~ I want to feel you like I felt Woo, I want your cum in me too." You whined, your bratty nature showing, which is why San smacked your ass loudly, causing Woo to look over.

"Bunny, you know the rules, both of us couldn't handle that." Before you could combat further San lined himself up with your cunt and was able to slide right in, he really did want to fuck you raw until his cum covered your walls but realistically he knew it would feel too good and he wouldn't be able to go 2 minutes without fucking you, he barely had a control on how often he fucks you now. He held your thigh while he drilled his cock deep into you, you couldn't control yourself from cursing and moaning, he pounded your cervix so good you started screaming.

"Poor Y/N you're so loud you wouldn't want to bother the neighbors, let me close your mouth for you." Wooyoung said springing into action after he got hard watching how San fucked you. He made his way up to your face sitting on his knees in front of you with his length in hand, you knew what was next and opened your mouth nice and wide for him. Woo gripped the back of your head with one hand and back of your neck with the other then eased your mouth onto his dick. Woo stuffing your mouth and San fucking your abused pussy was something you only saw in dreams, they both worked in tangent using you as a fuck toy for their pleasure and yours.

"Bunny Woo just fucked you and you're still so tight, I love this pussy." San said, his pace already showing that he was nearing his climax.

"Her mouth feels so fucking good too Sannie, you lucky bastard." Wooyoung also was reaching his end as he fucked your throat, your eyes rolled back and you gagged out moans on Woo's dick, you've never felt this much pleasure before and your mind was going blank, all you could think about is the way they were fucking you. Your pussy started to contract around Sans cock while you gagged and drooled on woo.

"I know I'm so lucky to have such a good cockslut to use and share when I want, I can feel her cumming again now." San said, and he wasn't wrong you lasted a few more strokes as you came on Sans Latex covered dick, San continued to fuck you, pushing you into over stimulation while Woo pumped his dick into you a few more times then finished in your throat, tears ran down your face as you swallowed his load. San came into the condom watching you drink Woo's cum, he pulled out and Woo did as well, San pulled you up and kissed you, his tongued explored every inch and corner of your mouth.

"You're so greedy bunny, drinking all of Woo's cum and not sharing." San said, it made Wooyoung blush. "Can you keep going bunny?"

"Yes Sannie, please, I want more, but please no condom this time." San sighed at your request. He removed the rubber from his dick as his cum slid down his shaft, Wooyoung was genuinely impressed by the amount of stamina you two had as he was still gasping from the last load.

"How about me and Youngie both fuck you Bunny, would you like that?" San asked.

"Please yes, I want you both please." San smiled at you cutely begging like a slut.

"Are you sure you can take both of us Y/N?" Wooyoung asked not wanting to push you too far, he obviously didn't understand just how much of a slut you were.

"Yes Woo, please, fill me up." You said eagerly. San didn't waste any more time discussing and laid back on his back, he pulled you on top and you sank down on his length, your eyes rolling back as you gripped his shoulders. Though your cunt was overstimulated you just wanted more and more you bounced on Sans length a few times then you felt Wooyoungs bare chest press against your back, you felt his hard dick on your ass while he kissed your neck a few times. You both slowly leaned toward San until you were pressed against his chest.

"Are you ready Y/N?" Wooyoung asked, you nodded again and Wooyoung slowly pressed his dick into your already occupied hole. The feeling was surreal, once Woo was fully inside, they both waited for your go ahead to move.

"Are you okay bunny?" San asked.

"Yes, please move, I want more." San started to buck his hips and so did Woo, when one pulled back the other moved deeper in, you've never felt so full.

"You're such a good little whore for us Bunny, taking both our cocks like this." San said rubbing your back.

"Do you like how well we’re stuffing your pussy Y/N? You're still so tight, squeezing me and Sannie like you want to milk us dry." Wooyoung said into your ear. You couldn't help the noises that filled the room from both your mouth and your cunt. Tears filled your eyes as you drooled a bit, your mind was empty, gone, completely fucked out.

"Oh no Youngie I think we fucked her dumb, little bunny can't even speak any more." San said laughing at you to taunt your fucked out state, he bucked his hips faster and so did Woo, though San loved fucking you stupid he did know that you were reaching your limit, so he had to finish soon. "Do you want both of our loads to fill your pussy bunny?"

"I bet she does Sannie, I bet she would love having our cum stuffed deep in her needy cunt, let's fill her up." Wooyoung said, both men’s pace became feral as they pounded into your fucked pussy. San brought you back down to earth as he brought you in for a kiss, his mouth now cold from the previous spit still on his lips. Once he finished kissing you Woo was right behind you to also kiss you, once he released you, he leaned up to grip your hips while San grabbed your thighs. They relentlessly fucked into you until you saw stars then felt both their loads filling your abused cunt, you yelled out a rush of curse words as their load seeped into your womb.

...

It took you an hour to finish in the bathroom after San had to literally carry you in so you could pee and shower. Once you were done you returned to Sans room, a new sheet set was put on the bed and San was back on his game while woo scrolled on his phone under the covers. They both looked up at you once you entered the room.

"Are you okay bunny? Want a snack?" San asked.

They just planned to go back to normal like they didn't just fuck your brains out?

"I- ya know what?

Yeah, I do actually." You said not even trying to put logic on those two.

San smiled at you warmly. "Okay, Woo can make us some food and we can go again a few more times!"

Of course this wasn't over.

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