#stranger things ghost hunters

[targetf0rce]

Stobin ghost hunters and their cameraman jonathan

version without night vision below

[steddieunderdogfics]

Warm These Bones by help_me_no

@help-me-nah

Rating: Teen and Up

19,850 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Pre-Relationship, Supernatural Elements, Paranormal Investigators, Ghost Hunters, Found Family

Summary:

“As long-time viewers may know,” Dustin says, picking up from Mike, “‘Eddie the Damned’ is the one who inspired us to start Upside Down Ghost Hunting and make videos out of our paranormal investigation hobby. It absolutely kills us to see the end of a legendary era, and we want to wish Eddie all the best with his future endeavors.” “Which,” Eddie says, leaning into the frame, “Are gonna be right here.” Dustin, Lucas, and Mike finally break, unable to maintain their serious masks anymore, beaming. Eddie grins manically at the camera. “Hope none of you freaks, geeks, and ghouls are tired of me just yet, because I’m a permanent fixture now.” Dustin whoops from behind him. “Now, let’s go find ourselves some ghosts.”

paranormal/ghost-hunting AU

This is a MOD rec as a part of our Fic Fridays.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[kkpwnall]

love is like ghosts (rated m | 7.7k) a spooky little ghost hunters fic featuring: skeptic eddie, believer steve, and a whole library full of ghosts!

it's officially the start of spooky season (TO ME) and i was struck by the urge to craft an actual cover for my beloved ghosthunters steddie fic. they are dork ass losers, the pining is mutual, and steve wears glasses in this one.

[snippet below the cut, read on ao3]

divider by @saradika

They stand at the base of a short flight of stairs leading up to the old university library. From everything Steve’s read, it’s one of the most haunted places in Indiana… within a tank of gas’ drive… that would let them in after hours.

“It’s the witching hour,” Eddie says spookily. He’s come up behind Steve, pressing close and wiggling his fingers on Steve’s shoulders.

Steve huffs a laugh and starts double checking his pockets for his share of the gear. Something to focus on that’s not the way Eddie’s breath ruffles his hair and skims over his cheek, raising goosebumps in its wake.

It’s not like he doesn’t like the attention, the closeness, the physicality of Eddie. He does. Probably too much. Especially since they’re just friends. Steve knows he’s not special to be on the receiving end, it’s how Eddie is with everyone.

[keep reading on ao3]

[adverbally]

There’s Something Weird (And It Don’t Look Good)

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day six prompt “haunted” | wc: 1,445 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: modern au, ghost hunters, paranormal activity, potentially demonic entity | title from “Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker Jr.

Allison Mansion is a real place in Indianapolis that is allegedly haunted. I took a lot of creative liberties with the cause and manifestation of the haunting.

REM Pods and Alice Boxes are “real” equipment used by ghost hunters to detect paranormal activity. They both claim to operate using electromagnetic frequencies (EMF) to indicate the presence of spirits or channel verbal communication from them. I have never done any ghost hunting myself, so my knowledge is based on the paranormal investigations I have watched on YouTube.

———

They’re the only two people left in the old house now that the sun has set. No camera crew, none of the staff who oversee events at the historical site, just Steve and Eddie and their backpacks full of equipment, ready for another night of paranormal investigation.

It’s a gorgeous building, with an exterior of understated red brick that contrasts with the intricately crafted details inside the mansion. With its grand chandeliers, ornate rugs, and dark wood, Allison Mansion is certainly one of the most beautiful locations they’ve visited. It’s also rumored to be one of the most haunted.

They spend an hour or so exploring the main rooms to no avail before heading up to the library, since that’s supposed to be one of the most active spots.

“What are you thinking? A REM Pod over by that wall, maybe?” Steve suggests, pointing at a floor to ceiling bookcase across from them.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, unpacking the unit from his bag and extending the antenna before switching the device on. He slowly waves a hand back and forth over it, watching as it lights up and beeps every time he gets close. “What about something like the Alice Box?” he asks as he sets the REM Pod on the floor.

Steve holds up the box in question. “I figured a library spirit might want to flex their vocabulary a little,” he jokes.

As if objecting to the quip, the REM Pod suddenly flashes and beeps, even though Eddie has already returned to the table where their things are laid out.

“Whoa, we’re not wasting any time tonight, are we?” Eddie mutters as he fumbles for his camera. Once he’s recording, he announces to the room, “If anyone here wants to make their presence known, feel free to go near that device again.”

The atmosphere in the library is heavy with anticipation, but nothing happens. Steve’s gaze roams the room, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. In the warm glow of the matching Tiffany lamps in opposite corners, nothing seems to be amiss.

“You don’t even have to touch it,” Eddie explains encouragingly, “it will go off if you stand close to it.”

A tentative buzz sounds from the machine, accompanied by a brief burst of LED lights, as it activates again.

“Thank you,” Steve acknowledges the spirit, already rushing to turn on the Alice Box. “You can use this, too, if you’d like to speak to us.”

It’s silent again for a few moments before a loud beep indicates an EMF reading has set off the box. “TROUBLE,” an electronic voice reports from the device’s database of words.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Eddie reassures the empty side of the room.

“We’re not trying to cause trouble, either,” Steve clarifies. “We just want to talk. Is this James, James Allison? You have a beautiful home.”

The Alice Box goes off again. The seconds between the indicator noise and the word’s selection feel like a small eternity. “SPECULATE,” it finally reads.

Eddie purses his lips thoughtfully as he adjusts the camera settings. “Yeah, I guess we are speculating. Not many people have been able to investigate the mansion before, so we’re not sure who we’re talking to. Can you give us a clue about who you are?”

The response is faster this time. “CONTEXT.”

Steve tries to recall the history of the Allison Mansion. Built in the early 1910s by a successful businessman in the car and plan industry, it was sold shortly a few years after his untimely death from pneumonia soon after his second marriage. The building had become an administrative office for a small college currently known as Marian University, which now rents out the mansion’s more grandiose rooms for events.

“The college used this library after the Allison family sold it, right? Maybe it was an early student or an employee?” Steve posits.

Before Eddie can respond, the REM Pod goes wild.

Steve speaks to it directly now. “I’m sure the university tried to change things in here over the last century. Is that why you rearrange the books and furniture? You want to keep it like it was before?”

“LOOSE,” the Alice Box intones, “PUNISH. CIVILIZATION.” Three words in quick succession. It’s pretty rare for that to happen.

A pit forms in Steve’s stomach, and he can see his uneasiness reflected on Eddie’s face. Sure, the words are random enough, but they’ve encountered darker entities before that invoked judgment and destruction. It seems unlikely that a simple librarian would see a loose organizational structure in their former workplace and react with the need to impose punishment, to reestablish a more civilized system. But something like… Steve hates to even think it, but something inhuman, even demonic?

“Steve,” Eddie warns, tilting his head and aiming the camera to wordlessly encourage Steve to check out what’s happening on the table in front of him.

He doesn’t want to look, but he can already see the flashing lights in his peripheral vision. He takes a deep breath and glances down. A chill runs down his spine.

Something is causing the cat toys in Steve’s backpack to light up, not two feet away from him. The plastic balls are touch activated and even harder to set off than the REM Pod.

“SATISFACTION,” the box reads. It sounds like it’s gloating.

Eddie closes the gap between himself and Steve in three big steps. “No, we’re done talking to you,” he spits at nobody. To Steve, he says, “Shut that thing off and let’s get out of here.”

Steve flicks the off switch, but the display on the Alice Box remains lit.

“TERMINAL,” it tells him ominously before it goes flying out of his hand and into the wall with a crack. The words still don’t stop coming, even as the electronic voice reading them out starts glitching and fading out. “HEART. WEAK. INDULGE. COMPROMISE.”

“Come on, just leave it,” Eddie commands, gathering up their backpacks in his arms and heading for the door with Steve close behind. He tugs at the antique doorknob, tries to turn it to either side, but it doesn’t budge.

Steve turns back to the room, where the Alice Box is still droning, “DEPARTURE. ISSUE. BEG,” and the REM Pod is blaring a solid tone of warning, all its multicolored indicator lights bright in the dim space. Even the lamps have begun to flicker as the energy in the room crackles.

“Let us go,” he implores, his voice strong and steady. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. Open the door and we’ll leave you in peace.”

On command, the door flies open with such force that the heavy wood slams against the bookshelf behind it, narrowly missing Eddie.

Steve barely has time to process that their path is clear before Eddie’s grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. They run down the grand staircase in the entrance hall, barely lit by the moonlight and street lamps shining in through the enormous windows covering the front of the mansion. Even once they burst through the front doors, they don’t slow down, continuing along the front drive to where Eddie’s van is parked.

“Eds, hey, it’s okay,” Steve pants, yanking Eddie to a stop beside the vehicle. Eddie’s eyes are still wide, and he’s shaking with adrenaline as he looks Steve up and down to make sure he’s unharmed. “We’re okay,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand.

Eddie claws at the collar of his shirt until he pulls out a selenite pendant. While Steve’s interest in ghost hunting comes from a place of scientific curiosity, all electromagnetic fields and physical manifestations of lingering energy, Eddie learned from his mother. She was a spiritual woman who told Eddie all about intention setting and magical protection, crystals and herbs and all manner of metaphysical tools. It’s evident as Eddie clutches the smooth white stone in his palm until his breathing evens out.

“Okay?” Steve checks in again, his touch gentle on Eddie’s cheeks, guiding him to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Yeah, sorry, I just… that got real dark, real fast.” He stares hard at Steve like he’s looking beyond his physical form. “You’re okay,” he nods to himself, confirming that whatever entity they encountered hadn’t attached itself to Steve in any way.

Steve pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together. He may not share all of Eddie’s beliefs, but it’s comforting to get the all-clear from him anyway. “Why is it always the libraries?” he groans.

Eddie chuckles and promises, “No more libraries. Only creepy basements from now on.”

[maxineholtzmann]

the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams - chapter one: i took a little journey to the unknown

“Welcome to Haunted Hawkins - the show where I, Robin Buckley, show you the compelling evidence that Hawkins is the most haunted town in America! This week, we’re investigating the old Creel House—” Nancy hit the spacebar on her laptop, pausing the video on a shot of Robin’s freckled face smiling outside of the Creel house, her light brown hair cut into a bob, blue eyes shining with excitement. I can’t believe they’re making me do this, she thought, rolling her shoulders back and sighing.

Her latest assignment for her weekly skeptics column in The Weekly Watcher was to join Robin on her next “ghost hunt” and write up her thoughts on it. The whole thing had been set up by Murray, her editor, without consulting Nancy at all. He thought they needed the collab and exposure to increase site traffic—as if increased traffic was going to make a website full of Bigfoot and UFO articles more lucrative for advertisers.

Nancy had already watched most of Robin’s prior “investigations” to prepare for their meeting that afternoon and while she couldn’t deny that Robin had a certain charisma, she didn’t believe for a second that any of her so-called paranormal “evidence” was authentic. Ghosts were not real and this whole thing was going to be a spectacular waste of time. But at least she was getting paid to do it.

(read the rest on ao3)

[e-munson666]

Prompt requests open

I could use a little help with some writers block so I would LOVE if you guys could send me requests with some of the prompts that catch your eye!

🖤

[emofratboy]

So I just need this scene from Ghost Hunters steddiefied. Not only is something I can imagine happening, but Eddie would totally be all over ghost hunting.

Steve and Tango are in some basement some where talking about “snozberries” (I’m unclear how they got here in the conversation.) (obviously Eddie is Tango in this scenario. Steve is Steve.)

“"The snozberries taste like snozberries!"

"I've never had a snozberry."

"It's fake, there's no such thing as a snozberry."

“How do you know? It could be English!"

-Steve dies laughing-

"Were you serious dude?"

“I don't know the berries.What do you want from me?…Can't deny it."

"I can't work in these conditions!"

"Shut up, I'm walking this way."

-in interview with Tango-

"They might, to me, taste like a mixture of a blueberry and a raspberry.That's what a snozberry would taste like."

"You know there isn't a snozberry."

"How do you know? How are you sure?"

"Tango, I'd bet my life there's no such thing as a snozberry."

"Yeah, but they were talking about all the other flavors."

"It's made up. Tango, they're eating candy balloons and flowers made out of marshmallows…It's crazy and Willy Wonka."

"Right, but they're also English."

-couple of minutes later-

"25 bucks?" "Alright, 25 bucks there's no such thing as a snozberry."”

[corrodedcoughin]

Thank you for indulging my “platonic Hellcheer is the perfect anti stobin” in the tags, of course you are correct with Eddie’s role but may I elaborate with:

Mario - Steve

Luigi- Robin

Wario - Chrissy (she’s teeny tiny but also a cheerleader and high school royalty, perfect Steve counterpart!)

Waluigi - Eddie

Wario Chrissy has delighted me in ways I CANNOT EXPRESS. and Luigi Robin???? LUIGI ROBIN!!!

Please can Chrissy, Robin and Eddie all be wearing fake moustaches and Steve feels like he missed the memo and pouts about it. Eddie ripping his own off and slamming it on Steve’s face and pulling his own hair (because it’s long enough and wants to show it off) over his top lip as a makeshift one. Steve now happy, Eddie happy, Robin and Chrissy pulling them away from each other because ‘they are the enemy!!’ (A lie, they are also dating)

Eddie sending Steve this through a series of goombas

But most importantly, is Dustin baby bowser or toad????

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Cunningham Manor Mystery

Author: @chrissyslipgloss

Rating/Warning: Explicit, referenced ED, mild violence

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description: Gravity Falls Hellcheer AU where Eddie is a professional ghost hunter and Chrissy’s family hires him to banish the ghosts from their house.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, gravity falls au, Eddie is a sweetheart, we hate Chrissy's parents in this house, ghost hunter!Eddie, mutual pining, smut, Alternating POV, one-shot, Status: Completed

[steddieunderdogfics]

For the alternative universes weekend, one of my absolute favorites is an AU called “love is like ghosts” by kkpwnall. It’s an AU where the boys are ghost hunters, it’s short and sweet and very very fun, highly recommend ☺️

love is like ghosts by kkpwnall

@kkpwnall

Rating: Mature

7,780 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Ghosts, Ghost Hunters, Former Catholic Steve Harrington, Former Theatre Kid Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Wears Glasses, banter as a love language, First Kiss, Getting Together, Rough Kissing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Paranormal Investigators

Summary:

They stand at the base of a short flight of stairs leading up to the old university library. From everything Steve’s read, it’s one of the most haunted places in Indiana… within a tank of gas’ drive… that would let them in after hours. “It’s the witching hour,” Eddie says spookily. He’s come up behind Steve, pressing close and wiggling his fingers on Steve’s shoulders. Steve huffs a laugh and starts double checking his pockets for his share of the gear. Something to focus on that’s not the way Eddie’s breath ruffles his hair and skims over his cheek, raising goosebumps in its wake. It’s not like he doesn’t like the attention, the closeness, the physicality of Eddie. He does. Probably too much. Especially since they’re just friends. Steve knows he’s not special to be on the receiving end, it’s how Eddie is with everyone.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is alternate universes.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[kkpwnall]

penguin classics covers but it's my fics

driving in your car

where's the spark?

love is like ghosts

just a little rain

wine & dine

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[prettyfastcars]

like animals | Dark!Mob!Lando

Summary: A few months ago, you made the mistake of hooking up with a handsome, mysterious stranger. It was his pretty eyes and boyish face that pulled you in, and it was the wine that gave you that manic confidence it took to hold his hand and let him lead you to his car. One night with him, no strings attached, no more expectations. Just one night, that was the deal. But then he went and got addicted and obsessed. For months now you were constantly having to move to get away from him. After all, he wasn’t just any guy. He was dangerous, and feared, and bad news. So you ran, and he chased. And deep inside, you knew it wouldn’t be long before this cat and mouse game turned into an actual game of hunter and prey. 

Themes: stalking, obsessed!lando, smut, mild degrading kink, fluff?

Your hands shook as you reached for the carefully folded piece of paper on your bed. 

You didn’t put it there. And the mere thought of who might have left it there for you to find was making your whole body shiver. 

No. No. No. 

He couldn’t have found you so easily. You had been so careful this time. After months of living on your friends’ couches, moving back home, moving back to your apartment in the city, living in hotel rooms, you had finally made the choice to come spend some time up on the mountains, in the small cabin your parents owned. 

All that just to get away from him. 

And you had been careful this time. You had made sure to pay for everything in cash, you didn’t tell too many people where you were going to be. And this place was meant to be safe. There was a small town not too far from the cabin. And a cop car often made rounds all over the place. This was supposed to be a safe place. 

But looking at the note, your blood froze. 

‘You’ve got to stop running, babygirl. You know I’ll always find you.’ 

Fuck. 

He was here. 

You looked around, forcing yourself to focus and see if you could hear any noise inside your home. You looked out the window and saw that the sun was setting, it would get dark and cold outside, there were no neighbours around, you were alone up here. 

And he was here. You had nowhere to go. You could always barricade yourself inside the cabin but chances were he was already inside, hence the note. 

This was his favourite game. He left notes all around you for you to find, and each time you found them you ran away. And he chased. 

Damn you for falling for the charms of a stranger that one night. Things in your life would be normal if you hadn’t slept with him that night. But fuck, he was so sweet to you. So charming. So good. His touch was… electric. He was so gentle with you. 

But only when he dropped you home the next morning did you realise who he was. Your friends were waiting for you that morning, worried sick and furious that you would even leave them without saying anything and go home with a guy that dangerous. 

“Dangerous? What do you mean?” You had looked at your girls, suddenly feeling stupid. 

One of them shoved their phone into your hands and you looked at the article on the screen. Headlines and words screaming at you. Mob boss. Arrested. Criminal. Dangerous. Followed by pictures of Lando being either arrested, or released. Cops all around him, like he was more of a celebrity in his expensive suit, curly hair and that damn smirk on his pretty face. In some pictures he even had a bleeding lip, like he got punched, but even then he faced the cameras with a smirk. He even winked in some pictures. 

Shit. 

And ever since, you’d ghosted him. All his messages and calls were ignored, and he wasn’t having it. So he began showing up at places. Your front yard, your gym, your favourite food spots, he was everywhere. He always wanted to talk to you, and you always ran at the first sight of him. 

Then it got bad. He stopped showing up, but his notes did. Which meant that he was finding a way to enter your apartment, your friends’ apartments, your parents’ house, and suddenly nowhere was safe and you refused to put anyone in danger.

Which is why you ended up here, in the middle of nowhere. 

And he followed. 

You crushed the note into a ball and threw it on the ground. That’s when you heard the footsteps. And it sounded like they came from the roof. You panicked and ran out of the room, down the stairs and froze once you reached the front door.

Because there he stood. Smiling at you like this was the most normal scenario ever. His face… It brought back memories of that night. How neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves on the way to his place. How that mouth felt against your skin. How warm and invasive his touch was, making you squirm, and purr under him. 

“There you are, baby. I’ve missed you.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’ve got to stop this little game now, okay? Stop being difficult and let me talk to you.” 

And then there was that fucking voice. Gentle, but firm. 

You backed away as he took a step forward. “I’ll call the cops.” Your voice trembled as you spoke. Trying your best to sound confident and failing. 

He scoffed, “Oh don’t bother. I took care of everything. You’re not leaving here without talking to me. I’ve been trying to reach you for months now. This is getting tiring, baby.” 

“What do you want?” 

He shrugged, “Isn’t it obvious? You.” 

You swallowed, worried about whether he’ll let you walk out of here alive. “Look, I didn’t know who you were that night. And I don’t know what you want, but I…” You took a deep breath. “Just leave me alone, please. I won’t tell the cops, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

He frowned, looking genuinely confused for a second. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He sighed, bringing his fingers up to his hair, running them through it in frustration, “Can we just talk? Will you just listen to me?” He took another step forward, and you took several back this time. 

“Please,” You begged again, looking around for a quick second, trying to see if there was anything you could use to defend yourself. Then you saw it. One of your father’s hunting knives, mounted on the wall. If you could just… 

Lando sighed again, like he was running out of patience as he looked right at you. His eyes staring into yours. The sun was nearly down all the way now, the cabin was getting darker and darker. The light drizzle outside was consistent. And the knife was not too close, not too far. If you ran towards it… 

“Come on now, baby. You’re a smart girl. Don’t do this.”  

Those words made you frown. Then you realised that he was looking at the knives on the wall as well. Shit. He could tell what you were thinking about. 

Then you did the dumbest, most predictable thing ever. You ran towards the knives, as did he. And he managed to grab you before you could reach for the knives. Pinning you to the wall, and pressing his entire body into yours, he chuckled as he secured your wrists above your head. 

“This is familiar, isn’t it?” He teased, his lips dangerously close to yours, surely referencing that night you two spent together. 

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about it too. How good he felt, with his body weight pressing down onto you in his bed. How good he felt, moving in between your legs… fuck. No. You needed to get out of here. 

“Let go.” You murmured, looking into his eyes as you tried to free your hands from his grip but it was impossible. 

Again, he had that look on his face like his patience was running low. “Fine,” He growled, “You want to be difficult? You like our little game too much it seems, huh? Alright then, baby,” He abruptly let go of you and took a step back. He looked at you menacingly. “Go on, run. Isn’t that what you want? Run, then.” He leaned in just a little, staring deep into your eyes and added, “But the moment I catch you, you’re mine. Fair?” 

Think. Think. 

The back door was unlocked. And there was a shortcut to get to the town, but it was through the woods. Maybe if you could… who were you kidding? There was no outrunning him. This had to be a trap. But… if you somehow made it out and into the town to get help, what then? 

Timidly, you asked, “What if you don’t?” 

Lando gave you a smirk that made you a multitude of things. “If I don’t, you’re free to go.” He said, his voice as cold as ice and that borderline unhinged look in his eyes. “I’ll leave, and never bother you again.” 

Damn it. It was getting darker out, the woods would be dark, cold, and it would be hard to see but it was such a short way to get to the town. If you’d run for about eight to ten minutes, you could maybe get rid of him forever. 

You looked up at him. He was still smirking, looking relaxed and not at all bothered. Damn him! 

“I’ll give you a headstart.” He said, and this all became a horror movie really quickly. Even more so when he began counting down. “Ten, nine–,” 

You didn’t stand there to listen to the rest, you took off running. Running past him and further into the cabin, all the way to the back door. And you shivered when you heard him laughing behind you, his laughter echoing in the wooden cabin. Followed by his loud footsteps as he chased you. 

You pushed open the back door and took off. It was still drizzling. And the air was cold, but your heart pumped faster than ever, your legs flying to get you out of there. And as sick as it sounds, there was a part of you that knew that he enjoyed this. This was what he wanted. Dirty, animalistic, primal. You would run and hide, he would chase and when he’d catch you – you’d be his little toy. 

The rain was light, but you could feel the fabric of your clothes sticking to your body already. You were just in leggings and a sweater. You squealed as you finally made it into the woods. It was dark there. The sun had set and it would get pitch black the further in you go. 

The forest ground was covered in moss and mud. Your heart pounded as you stopped running for a moment and just listened. 

And there it was. The steady pounding of footsteps closing in. Then you heard him call out, “You’re in so much trouble when I catch you, baby. I tried to make this easy for us but you don’t want that, do you? Huh? You like torturing me, don’t you?” He yelled, and judging by the sound of his voice, he was still far away. “You fucking love making me work for it!” 

The whole thing made your heart race as you tried to put some more distance between you and him. The silence of the woods, the echo of his voice, the rain falling down like in slow motion, the way your clothes stuck to your body like a second skin, the adrenaline in your veins as you ran further away from him. 

And the anticipation of what would happen if he catches you. 

Right then, the memories of that night you spent with him came flooding in. His touch, his mouth, his hands, how he fucked you till you fell asleep in his bed. How he held you till the morning. All the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear, the ones that made your heart flutter. The one that made you come all over his fingers, his mouth, his cock… How he had you moaning and screaming the whole night… fuck. 

You gasped for air and you stopped for a moment. You quickly assessed your body. Your leggings were torn in places, due to being stuck to thorns and other plants. But other than that, you were okay. Come on, just a few more– 

You heard his voice again. And he sounded closer than earlier. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” He cooed. “I promise, baby. Just give me a chance. I’ll do anything for you, you know that? I just wanna fucking talk!” He yelled again. 

You took off running again, stopping every now and then to listen and try to gauge where he was. You were completely drenched at this point, running for your life like a madwoman. Trying to get away from your personal psycho villain. 

You tried to step on the patches of moss so he wouldn’t hear you. But you heard his footsteps, running, chasing and weirdly closer to you than earlier. 

“I hear you, baby.” He called out, chuckling like an actual villain. 

You gasped and ran faster… only to trip on a fallen branch and fall. You cursed before getting up, now with leaves and dirt sticking to you. You heard him. He was closer. Closer. You ran faster. Hoping to be able to somehow lose him and make your way out of the woods and– 

Right when you were about to make a sharp turn, Lando grabbed you by the elbow and tackled you to the ground. You both fell on a soft, wet patch of moss. “Caught you.” He growled, straddling your squirming body and pinning your hands above your head. “You did so well, baby. You almost got away.” He leaned down and whispered against your mouth, “Almost. You got so close too.” He trailed his mouth over to your cheek, “But now you’re fucking mine.” 

You were still breathless. Struggling. Hating how much you were thinking about how good it felt to be under him like this the first time. 

He chuckled, looking down at you. “Don’t lie. You liked it when I touched you, didn’t you?” 

You glared at him, the little bit of light allowing you to see how close his devilishly handsome face was to yours. “Fuck you.” 

He smirked. “Oh you liked it.” He leaned in, “When I touched you, when I tasted you…” He trailed off, scoffing, “But you didn’t let me get my fill, baby. And I want you. So fucking bad.” He pressed his body against yours even more. “Can you feel how badly I need you?” 

You gasped, feeling a prominent bulge pressing against your belly. And your mind went straight to filth. 

He laughed at the look on your face. “You remember now? Hmm? Are you wet for me?” He chuckled, “Should I check?” 

Angry and embarrassed, you spoke through gritted teeth, “Is this how you get women? By forcing them to–,” 

He shut you up by squeezing your cheeks with his cold hand, “Force you?” He questioned, and almost sounded offended, “Oh no baby, you’ll beg for it. I’ll make you beg, just like last time.” 

Not wasting a single moment, he grabbed your sweater at the neckline and tore it until your breasts were exposed. Making quick work of your bra, he almost growled again as he leaned down to take your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting and alternating between the two of them.

You gasped and moaned and squirmed under him. Damn his mouth… 

The light rain didn’t stop. Drops of water constantly dripped on the two of you. You could hear it, the sound of the light rain falling on leaves. The grunts and groans coming from Lando’s mouth, the sound of your coerced moans, the chill in the air. It was all too much. 

Lando’s mouth moved from your breasts and kissed down your drenched torso until he reached your leggings, which he tore as well, diving in and kissing your inner thighs before sliding your underwear to the side and– 

You moaned shamelessly when you felt his warm, wet tongue lick up and down your folds. “Fuck… please,” You gasped. 

He chuckled, his tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly until you screamed. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. 

He licked and sucked relentlessly, “Told you you’d beg for it. You taste so good…” He whispered as he ate you out until you whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. His warm mouth pressed against your most intimate part, his tongue stroking you. “I’ve missed you, baby. I’ve missed this.” 

He growled when your hips instinctively bucked against his mouth. You whined as the sounds he made reverberated through your entire body, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 

“You think I didn’t try to move on? Hmm? You think I didn’t have girls throw themselves at me,” He spoke in between licks and kisses, “I tried, baby.” He reasoned. “I did. But the other girls, they’re not like you. I don’t want them. I just want you, I want my baby. And I’ve got you now.” He whispered, thrusting his tongue deeper into you. You moaned and whimpered, your body getting warmer and warmer with each touch of his tongue. 

“Please, please, please…” You chanted as you felt your walls tighten around nothing, and you knew you were close. 

You could only moan and whimper as he kept licking deeper into you, your back arching off the cold ground. You felt him quicken his pace and you felt the pressure building up in between your hips until you couldn’t handle it anymore, and you came undone all over his lips, moaning and whimpering. 

He tore the rest of your leggings and underwear off, leaving the ragged bits still around your ankles as his hand found itself around your throat. He parted your legs and settled in between them. You whimpered when you felt him undo his trousers and pull out his cock, leaving it there, just pressing against your folds. 

“Look at me.” He murmured. 

You opened your eyes and there he was, hovering above you. His face was so close you could see your wetness glistening all over his lips. You couldn’t hold back the desperate moan that left your mouth. 

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He said, acting like this was all your fault. “You’ve turned me into a fucking animal, baby.” He moved his hips just the slightest, letting his cock brush against your clit in a way that made you want to cry out loud. 

“I didn’t do anything,” You argued, glaring at him. 

“Yes you did!” He persisted. “You’ve been messing with my fucking head,” He growled. “Stop fucking running away from me!” He bellowed. And for a second, even the insects around stopped chirping as his voice echoed. “Please stop,” He spoke again, softer this time. “I’ll do anything,” He said, “I’ll get you whatever you want, I’ll buy you anything, I’ll stop following you around just…” He exhaled, his warm breath tickling your cheek, “Just stop running from me.” 

You whimpered when you felt him push his cock into you without wasting a second, stretching you out just like he did that night. “Fuck…” You cried, letting him bury himself deep inside you. 

It felt so dirty, being fucked on the forest floor by a man like him. But you couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel fucking good inside you. 

“Poor baby.” He scoffed. “We could’ve sat down and had a nice conversation, then I would have taken you to bed. And we could’ve fucked nice and slow till the morning.” He pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan even louder. “But no, this is what you wanted. Right? You liked being chased, and you wanted to be fucked like this? Hmm?” He questioned, knowing you weren’t in a headspace to answer him given his hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you – he knew your brain was a foggy mess. 

And he was right because all you could so was whine and moan as he began fucking into you hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it. He was wild like the surroundings, and passionate, animalistic, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. 

He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear, “You remember me now, baby? Huh? You remember this?” He chuckled. “Does it feel as good as the first time?” 

Yes. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that. His ego was already bigger than these woods. Not that you would be able to talk anyway. Not with his warm, clothed body pressing down on you. Something about you being almost completely naked while he was still dressed made the moment all the more filthy. 

You were a moaning mess under him, your hands instinctively finding their way into his hair as he fucked you nice and hard. It was overwhelmingly good, his voice, his weight on top of you, his cock thrusting in and out of you repeatedly… 

He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “There I am.” He said, thrusting into your extra hard to prove his point. “Deep inside you, right where I belong.” He smirked when your body squirmed under him.

You must’ve lost your mind. You should be screaming for help, not enjoying being fucked by him. 

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He asked, surely feeling the shameless way you were clenching around his cock. “Yeah you will, won’t you? You dirty little slut,” He chuckled, “Look at you, you can’t even talk or think straight, can you?” He said, with pride in his voice. “No, you like being fucked in the middle of a dark forest too much.” He scoffed, “Go on then, come all over this cock.” 

He pressed his lips to yours as you came first, his mouth swallowing your moans as you let go and came with a muffled cry. 

He smiled into the kiss, “There we go,” He pulled away just barely, gasping for breath as he fucked you through your orgasm, close to coming himself. “I’m gonna fill you up nicely, baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hmm?” 

You let out a choked moan as he came inside you, his body collapsing on top of yours as you both caught your breaths. 

But you couldn’t stay for long, the rain wasn’t stopping. 

– 

Lando managed to get you back into the cabin, and you didn’t fight him as he pulled you into the hot shower. You let him peel away the ragged bits of your clothes which remained on your body. You let him pull you close to him under the shower, but only for a moment. Once your brain fog went away, you tried to pull away and get out but he grabbed you and pulled you back in. 

“Don’t fucking fight me on this, you need to warm up.” He muttered, keeping a tight grip on your wrist even though you glared at him.  

“I wouldn’t need warming up if you weren’t such an animal.” You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip, but he only tightened it. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier,” He pouted, like a brat who’s finally got his way. “Guess you were moaning too loud. I must’ve missed it.” 

“Fuck you.” You didn’t mind his body heat along with the hot shower. 

He smirked. “Round two for later baby, we need to get you nice and warm first. I can even make you some tea if you want.” 

“Get away from me, you fucking lunatic.” You said frowning, but made no move to actually get away from him. 

“Just let me help, okay?” He looked at you, water running down his face and chest. His curly hair now drenched. He stepped out for a second, wrapped a towel around his waist, and grabbed a large, fluffy towel. “Come here,” He said, holding the towel open. 

You glared at him even as you stepped closer and let him wrap the towel around you. He pulled you close again, like he was holding a giant burrito. 

“What do you want from me? Truthfully?” You didn’t have anything to give. You didn’t have that kind of money. 

“This.” He said, “This right here.” 

“Why me?” 

He sighed, “Because I have a thing for pretty women who pretend they hate me.”  

“I don’t pretend, i actually–,” 

“Shh. Stop fighting with me.” He cut you off. “Isn’t this nice? Hmm? See how good we are when we don’t fight.” 

“You’re insane.” 

“For you.” 

Ugh. So not just a lunatic, a clingy one.

[maxineholtzmann]

the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams - chapter three: i fucked with forces that our eyes can’t see

When Robin and Nancy arrived at the offices of The Weekly Watcher, Nancy was surprised to find them empty. Usually at least one of her colleagues was here, even if it was just Jonathan analyzing and editing whatever new UFO photos had been submitted to the paper. Not that Nancy was upset that Jonathan wasn’t around–he was her last ex-boyfriend, and despite him being so unbelievably cool with her gay realization, it was still a little awkward sometimes. Plus, maybe alone she could get Robin to explain what the fuck that was at the library. She hadn’t said a thing since they left.

“My desk is just over here,” Nancy said, ushering Robin into the office, turning on the lights as she went. “You can grab any chair, it looks like everyone knocked off early today.”

Robin grabbed a chair from a nearby desk, pulling it up next to Nancy as she booted up her work computer. She preferred to use her laptop for everything, but the desktop was what was hooked up to the digitized archives on their local servers. The desktop was at least 15 years old and it made an awful sound as it turned on–the fan was loud enough to make Robin jump when it kicked on.

“Sorry, the equipment in here kind of needs some upgrades,” Nancy said, apologetically. Robin nodded, still not saying a word.

Nancy sighed, taking her notebook and recorder out of her bag. At the sight of the recorder, Robin reached out as if to grab it and Nancy moved it slightly out of her reach.

“Robin,” Nancy said softly, rolling her chair so she was sitting right in front of Robin. “Who is Vickie?”

(read the rest on ao3)

[thegnomelord]

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself. 

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back. 

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake. 

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release. 

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach. 

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

 Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.