#this is for all my floor fanatics out there

[demongrunge]

floor gang

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (epilogue)

Mom gets fitted for dentures next week 🎊 🎉 🦷 💝

Epilogue (Promises)

You had meant it when you said it so long ago. A promise. One you intended to keep

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader, Valentino x Fem reader (just TRUST ME), nipple chain, Val exists too much, Kaiju cock, pussy wet??, aphrodisiac, Alastor shade, fanatic sinners, misleading porno covers, Angel Dust is perfect as always, blood, stabbing, filming sexy things, Val in a thong, licking, hair pulling, why bad man have big dick, Alastor isn’t horny but he is possessive, pussy in the ether」

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual

***Spoiler for people that need Val warnings*** Val dick touches reader pussy. Val explicit scenes are purple. if you skip the purple parts you will still understand the story and still be in the scene, interacting with him. Reminder, reader is there intentionally and consenting.

minors omg look over there! (🏃‍♀️💨Dni)

“I will admit, I was surprised to get your message.” Val exhaled, one hip out as he rest his weight on his right foot. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but as you became comfortable in hell you found yourself remembering the promise to yourself. One you made that day you met Alastor. On the floor of that studio. Your eyes scanned the room. The space was different, the set no longer your cursed cabin scene.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath, you’d practiced this, “Well I’ve been in hell for a while now… and I see you everywhere. I’ve been thinking,” your eyes caught on the door you were confident led to the room that held you. To the bed. Another shaky exhale, you never were much of an actress. “I really missed my chance with you. A powerful overlord… a celebrity.”

A dark chuckle from the moth, his ego fluttering, “Ooh, you’re a little celebrity in your own right. My best seller in ages.”

Oh, right. The tape. You hadn’t watched it yet. Alastor set the VHS copy on the bookshelf, an agreement made you could revisit that memory together if you ever wanted to. Not that you hadn’t heard it before. Nearly two years after its release and still people played it in public. Your first visit to Rosie started with you red faced and sputtering, having had someone on the way there thrust a DVD in front of you. 

The stranger asked for an autograph, but as soon as you saw the cover photo the entire thing had been knocked into the street by Alastor’s microphone. He had been trying to shelter you from interacting too much with the movie.

“Was that—is the cover—?” You were frozen as the sinner ran off, mind trying to process the image.

Alastor hummed, “Not what I’d choose, but I signed away all rights when I made the deal. A little misleading of a photo if you ask me.” He watched with glee as a car pulverized the disc and case. 

A blood red demonic seal splattered with a white liquid and a slender hand scraping into the wood.

“But that’s the Vees for you!”

Indeed, that was the Vees. Val gestured at you with his cigarette and its dramatic holder, “Aren’t you still with the radio demon? Not that I care.” He took a few steps towards you, getting you into arm’s reach before grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into him, “Just cuz there's a goalie doesn’t mean I can’t score.”

With how your head was angled back as he had your hair tightly wound in his fist you could see the TV. Always Vox News, you assumed. The time was displayed in the corner. “I am but— he doesn’t, ya know… he doesn’t know I’m here. But he’ll be looking for me soon.”

He stared down at you, pupil-less eyes without emotion. Your scalp began to burn and after a few seconds you had to shift your weight to relieve some of the pull. It made your upper stomach rub against his crotch. Not at all your intention. But you knew you’d have to touch him eventually.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t do shit at anyone else’s speed.” His hand released your hair, “Could be fun though…,” Valentino traced along your jaw with his tongue before squeezing your cheeks in his hand, “fucking Alastor’s woman.”

He was off you as quickly as he had pounced, makeshift jacket swirling behind him as he spun around and walked to the door you’d seen before.

Another glance at the television. You had 10 minutes before Alastor would be calling. A small panic that you didn’t have enough time. 

Alastor rarely called on you, because rarely were you very far away. He didn’t have you on a leash, you just enjoyed his company. You’d scroll on your phone while he worked in his radio station  or read a book while he enjoyed his breakfast in the morning. 

Also, well, going out alone could be intimidating. People swung from two extremes when they saw you— excited fan or terrified sinner. 

The fans knew you were with Alastor. 

The other sinners knew you were with Alastor. 

The DVD incident had spooked you, not helped by the fact it had been your first outing. Alastor had been eager, even if he didn’t say it, to introduce you to the cannibal overlord. 

Having you back in his presence brought a deep seated sense of calm to him, one best compared to the feeling he had when gossiping with Rosie over coffee. Naturally he wanted his closest friend to meet the soul who’d stolen his attention. And Rosie was delighted to meet you, evident with the extravagant tea (and a singular coffee)  she set up and her litany of questions.

But every time she asked something she also seemed to answer it herself.

“Are you happy to be together again in your body?! I’m sure you are.” She offered you a finger you had to decline. 

“I bet you two have been busy.” A wink, “Though you must have been for it to take so long to get down here.”

Alastor shrunk a little as she smacked at his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him allow others to touch him before. Had that been Angel, the second one of his many arms cocked back Alastor would have stepped away or disappeared. Just a hit and you could see how close they were.

You made a point of befriending her, coming often after that initial meeting to her shop for gossip and advice. As time went on, you began to learn about Alastor’s normal. It was nice to have a mutual friend to discuss your worries and ideas with. 

“And oh! That video. Talk about hot under the collar!”, a petite laugh, “Did you see it?” Rosie waited for you to answer this time. When you shook your head no, she waved her hand, “For the best. The climax was totally unwatchable!”

You turned to Alastor, not sure what that meant, but he didn’t meet your gaze and instead slowly blinked out of sync at the bookshelves behind Rosie’s shoulder. 

“Did you know he’s not into all that?” She took a sip, “You better be patient with him ya got it?”

That question caught you off guard. Apparently for him too, Alastor coming back to life at the change of tone, “This isn’t really a tea topic, dear friend.”

Rosie hummed, “Where are my manners! I was just so relieved he didn’t up and leave for another seven years.” 

What’s a scowl shared between friends?

But shared between whatever you and Val were…?

Valentino’s wings unfurled revealing long fishnet covered legs. You watched as he swayed his hips side to side on his way to the bed. The same bed as before. You remembered the shape and purple comforter that you could see down your blindfold.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to already be undressed.” Where were his pants and button up? This was moving faster than you’d anticipated. 

He turned back to you as he plopped down onto the bed, “What I wear isn’t any of your business. Though, speaking of business.” He pointed to the corner, a part of the room you’d never seen before. A camera on a tripod stood there. “Turn it on.”

Your grimace was immediate. “You sure you wanna film this one?”

Impatient, he crossed his legs and leaned back on two hands, “Did you think you could just come in here, ask to fuck me and … what? It’d be all on your terms?”

Yes. 

You’d worn a dress expressly for ease, and slipped off your panties before going to the camera. For some reason you didn’t want that recorded. It seemed embarrassing. More so than what you were about to do.

Val’s turn to gawk, “You’re seriously not planning on staying dressed.”

“What I wear isn’t any of your business.” You opened the view screen and hit record.

His laugh was dark and deep, “Ooh, I forgot how feisty you were. Maybe this can be a recurring thing.”

Ignoring the comment, you tried to take in the details of the room, checking the walls and small bits of furniture. But you were immensely distracted by the moth demon, who had taken to spreading his legs open and running a hand down his barely contained bulge. Tiny, little, itty black thong, fishnets, nipple chain and… well, the hat. 

Two arms pulled you by the waist, hands gripping the flesh of your ass through the dress. 

“Why are you dressed like you’re off to teach Sunday school?” His hands slipped under the fabric and dug into your bare skin. He glanced at the camera and its small monitor to make sure he was in frame.

Your knees were brought to either side of his legs before he began to open his stance wider and wider. The action lowered your center more and more until your naked heat was resting on his package. Things were speeding up, he was moving you around so effortlessly. A problem, an absolute problem.

“Ya know I haven’t had a believable good girl to break in awhile.” His hips rose of the bed suddenly and made you bounce on his growing erection. Val groaned, a sound that made your skin crawl. 

In the reflection of his glasses you saw the white face of a marble clock on the wall behind you. 

“Could we—- can we do this lying down? Missionary? It’s been awhile and I’m feeling insecure.” The thought of the overpowering demon towering on top of you and pinning you down was… a tad terrifying. But you needed to see the clock, you couldn’t keep turning around. 

A brief thought, maybe just turning around on his lap and staying facing away from him would work, but then you remembered the camera. Didn’t need your now-rising dress to give the Vees anything exploitative to keep.

Not that everyone in all nine rings hadn’t already seen you spread open and screaming on camera.

“Actually maybe it’s okay, I can,” turn around? Your suggestion was cut short.

Val lifted you like a toy and flipped around. Your head hit the bed hard, brain jostling in your skull. One hand instinctively came to his chest to keep some distance. “No, I like this better.” A wide grin as he settled between your legs.

You leaned to the right to see the clock past his shoulder. Five minutes.

Why didn’t you wear a watch? Fuck.

He dropped his lower half onto you until his full weight was pressing his half hard cock into your stomach. Your breath tightened, running out of moveable space to expand your lungs and diaphragm.

“I wanna see you squirm.” Pink smoke was blown directly into your face, catching you off guard. But, where was the cigarette? You didn’t see it…

Your muscles went loose, the stress of the moment washing away. Both of your hands came to the center of your chest and pressed down. Security. Readiness.

Four minutes.

Alastor didn’t like you having a phone but he didn’t stop you from owning one. You had assumed you’d be on the set where you knew there would be some way to keep track of the time. Or else you’d have just worn a dress with pockets to carry a cellphone. Maybe set a timer.

You weren’t sure about Alastor’s disdain for tech until you witnessed it yourself. That square headed stalker flitting from screen to screen, riding the wires and the radio waves. He had warned you about the Vees, about Vox in particular. He didn’t have much to say about Velvette, and somehow that was better than the nothing he had to say about Valentino. 

As Val’s tongue slid up your neck, you thought about Angel. A confidant. You wished he had asked Alastor to kill Val, as a thank you for his efforts in reuniting you two. And, now that you remembered, uniting you at all. 

Instead he asked for a bigger room. Large enough for two to comfortably cohabitate.

Alastor maybe couldn’t kill Val, but he could try. When you brought it up with him he was upset. He didn’t like his name being spoken at all unless absolutely necessary 

An inadvertent moan you didn’t realize came from you until Valentino chuckled at the sound.

“Feeling it?” He cooed. You weren’t sure which it he meant. This wasn’t going quite to plan. 

Three minutes.

So much could happen in three minutes. Too much. He slid down his underwear, sitting up and letting you see him in his full glory.

Why did he have to be such a bad man?

Many men who carried big sticks were unkind. Between their legs or between their fingers. 

Alastor was an exception to the rule. 

Things did calm down for Alastor after you returned, eventually. Alastor’s desperate need was soothed with you in hell again. His appetite dying. But he hungered in new ways. Ways you hadn’t anticipated to fill your cup so full. Long and intense kisses where his hands dragged down your body and he sighed into your cheeks. You were often pulled into his side and under his arm when sharing the sofa. Soft pets to your hair as you fell asleep. 

And when you felt the need, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d lie beside you and whisper into your ear. Talking soft and low about all the ways you stole his heart and mind while his hand pumped those long fingers in and out of your own needy pussy. He’d grin into the nape of your neck when you were incapable of keeping your voice down any longer. A feeling you’d come to need. 

You didn’t need a cock to be full. And by the look of Val’s twitching monster, you’d be broken before he bottomed out.

His thumbs pulled apart your bottom lips, “Ready to spread you open so wide you won’t even feel that lanky fuck in you.” 

His third and fourth hands pushed your thighs open and back, hands you could swear felt familiar. Alastor? Or before him?

You struggled to regain focus, your fingers feeling at your bra.

Two minutes.

Legs suddenly too weak to resist, or perhaps Val too strong. Or, a third option, you weren’t trying so hard. Behind his fingers was left a burn on your skin.

“Closer.” Your lips were tingling, it felt good.

“I need you closer.”

His wide chest grew prideful, “Oh? If you’re looking for love you’re in the wrong bed, princesa.”

“No love. Chest. I can’t reach your chest.” You struggled to sit up, but managed to grab the chain connecting his pierced nipples before falling back into the bed.

A screech, a squeak, “Fuck! Watch how you handle that.” His voice rose several octaves. God, you hated him. 

You gripped the chain tightly, the feeling keeping you a little grounded. “Oops.” A whirlpool was behind your eyes, all five senses mingling and amplifying. This was dangerous. He hadn’t used this aphrodisiac on you before…maybe he had liked how much you thrashed when he tied you up and mocked you.  

His length ran up your core and you jumped. He was so hot. So…. Firm.

No. Too close.

One minute.

You had told Alastor you wouldn’t let it go too far. He said he’d not stop you, because you had said you needed to do it. But you could see the conflict behind his own gaze. What would he do if you returned smelling of Val? Dripping of him? 

Almost. Just a few more seconds. His body rolled into you, rocking you with the motion. Every passing had his cock from slit to balls sliding between your wildly wet folds. 

Timing was key for your safety. Though Alastor had made it clear you could always just bail and wait for his call.

The more Val rubbed and pressed against you you felt your mind melt a little more. Surely it would slip down your spine at this rate. 

A brief worry in the pleasurable fog, what if later on you remembered the pleasure and felt guilty? Guilty to Alastor but most importantly to yourself, for gasping and sighing under the abusive trash that dragged you to hell to begin with.

And what if you didn’t? 

Which was worse?

Which would be easier to live with?

He prodded your inner thigh. He was getting closer and closer to actually entering you.

30 seconds.

“Do you remember my promise?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His head was hung as he stared between your bodies. He didn’t see you reach between your breasts into your bra and pull out the Carmine angelic dagger Husk had recommended to Alastor. You hadn’t been quiet about your plans.

“Odd, it’s on recording. Maybe you didn’t realize I was talking to you.” As you moved the dagger from your right side to bury it into Valentino’s chest you remembered the man in the woods. The young man at work. Angel. Here you were again. But if this ended the same as the woods, where would you go? Would Alastor be able to reach you?

“My promise to fucking kill you.”

Valentino keeled back, hand raised to slash your throat out when a green light momentarily blinded him. The sound of chains filled the room as you disappeared into nothingness underneath him. He was left slashing at his own duvet while he tried to slow the bleeding.

Alastor caught you as you fell from the portal he summoned you with. Two feet barely touching the floor as he set you in the reading chair in front of his fireplace.

He nodded at the drops of blood staining your cornflower yellow dress, “Was it a success?”

Your body slipped down the chair, dress getting caught in the friction and riding up. He leaned over and tugged it back down to hide your exposed sex.  You were too far gone to feel deja vu.

“No, I think he’s alive. He drugged me with that smoke.” Your legs were spread wide, trying to keep your weight from slipping off the chair. “I was too weak.”

Alastor sat in the chair opposite and took in the scene. Hair messy, legs open, face flush. Bloodied and breathless.

Pride ran a shiver up his spine. His doe’s second murder attempt. While he has despised the idea he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love the initiative. 

“Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t ask.” You crossed your legs at the ankle, which did nothing to stop the way the air that was rising up your dress and cooling your core. “But I didn’t fuck him.”

Alastor shrugged, “As they say, all is fair in love and war. I would understand if you did for the sake of killing him. What’s a little sex if it helps murder?”

Your hand slipped down your chest, a ghostly trail in its wake like your touch had an echo. “What a terrible way to confess you love me.”

A choked cough from the radio demon.

Your eyes slipped close. Relaxed. “I feel good.”

He hummed.

“Not from the stabbing, from the stuff in his smoke. My body is thrumming. Is my heart pounding?” You tried to stand but ended up on your knees, cheek coming to rest on his inner leg. As he leaned forward to let his hand enter your dress and rest above your heart, his face got close to yours.

“It’s frantic.” A low whisper into the shell of your ear. Pulling back he paused at your face to lick an errant drop of blood. “You reek of him.”

“He did lick me a couple times.” You watched Alastor sneer, “And he was naked, like, immediately. Oh! Oh fuck,” your head popped up with a renewed clarity, “He recorded it.”

Alastor stilled, he wasn’t thinking about the recording aspect. He was thinking on your heart, on how flushed your skin was, the sweat dripping down your neck. On the thought of Val’s tongue over your skin. “The medicine— or drug you were exposed to,” a deep breath in, “What does it feel like?”

A topic change you hadn’t expected, your body slouched into his leg, arm over his thigh for support. His eyes on your face as they always were when you were in the room. 

“Like my body is… illuminescent. Every time my clothes or something touches me, my skin lights up and my brain gets so quiet.” His palm stayed on your heart. 

“Hmm,” His hands slipped under your arm, lifting you up. Your feet were entirely off the ground now as he carried you like a dirty cat on its way to the bath. Gently, you were set onto the bed. A lovely juxtaposition.

“Every time I touch where he did, tell me.” Alastor kneeled beside you, deft fingers unbuttoning your dress. A sharp claw popped under the center of your bra and sliced through the fabric.

Your body was humming again, Val’s powerful aphrodisiac lifting up from your senses like dust under heavy footsteps. 

Goosebumps formed up your arms as the back of his fingers traced along the outside of your forearm. As he curved up your shoulder and reached your neck you breathed out a low, “There.”

You watched him lean down, warm lips kissing at your skin. A series of kisses as soft and needy as the ones he often placed on your own mouth. A shudder turned nearly violent as his hot tongue ran up your neck to your jaw.

His nose slid up your cheek, “There.” Kisses to your face, across your nose and to the other side.

He pulled back, eyes lusty and heavy lidded. He didn’t say anything, but his grim smile asked you something. You nodded, running your hands down your chest and to your thighs.

A growl you hadn’t heard in so long rumbled in his chest. He rolled you onto your stomach and pulled the dress off entirely, nails raking along your spine until they dimpled the soft fat of your ass.

“There.”

Alastor straddled you at the back of your knees. You wanted to squirm but your muscles had gone weak again. He nipped at the mounds of flesh, massaging and squeezing after every particularly sharp bite. What little part of your brain could form coherent thoughts was trying to piece together an alarm— his face was so close to your still soaking wet entrance. 

Images bubbled up where words were failing. Val’s large cock head smearing precum up your slit.

His hands roamed down your legs and feet before turning you back to face him. When you could finally see his expression again, you were surprised to see a look he hadn’t given in so long.

Needy. Desperation screamed through knitted brows, hazy eyes, and a weak smile threatening to fall flat.

As his hands slid down your stomach and reached the junction of your thighs, you started to register the little moans you were making.

But it was getting harder to hear past the radio static and pounding heartbeat in your ears.

Soft fingers traveled between your closed thighs, you hesitated before offering what you thought was a quiet, “There.”

You couldn’t hear yourself think let alone speak as the sounds both in and outside your body grew louder with every signal he’d found a new spot to cover up.

His knees pushed open your left thigh, then your right. Lowering himself, he hitched your knees and lied flat on his stomach. A bite to your inner thigh, nearly the back. A suck, sharp and strong, that ended with a pop as he released.

Nose inching closer and closer to your core, Alastor could see your hole clenching. A dribble of the evidence of your arousal being forced out and down the cleft of your ass.

You heard and felt his breathing quicken, when a finger slid down your folds you couldn’t stop the raise of your hips.

“There.”

The lights went out with a pop. Shaky breaths as his tongue swiped from entrance to clit. Lick after lick to your center like he was trying to make you clean again. Another moan you were only sure was yours cut through the now biting static that filled the air around you.

Your mind tried to piece together a sentence, “Crazy stuff… it had me so horny”, your hands ran up your chest without thinking, “I was almost hoping Val would put it in before time was gone.”

The static cut. Not even the sound of the fireplace or the crickets in the swamp portaled into his room were present anymore. 

“Isn’t that insane? Have you ever heard of such a drug?” Your eyes had closed, feeling his breath wafting down your saliva coated lips. “Alastor?”

He was being honest when he said he’d not hold it against you. But he hadn’t even considered a situation where you wanted more to happen. Than had been discussed. The very idea of Valentino mixing with you brought bile to his throat.

The drug was to blame and he could understand that, as a man. But as an overlord, as something more akin to animal in some aspects, he had the clawing urge to reclaim you. To write over even the thought of wanting to feel Valentino.

“My darling little doe, I think you need a reminder of just how much of you I possess. And the parts of me you own in turn.” 

You looked down to see glowing eyes from between your legs, his fingers snapped and while you couldn’t see what was happening past the light of his eyes, you could hear the VHS player click and then a small, “Aunt Sara….” whispered in a familiar voice.  

“I don’t understand what’s happened….”

It took a moment to register it was your own voice you were hearing from the darkness. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here.” 

Alastor’s acting debut crowing from the old TV beside his bayou door. His eyes shifted with a blink from glowing red to black, just sharp dials visible in the shadow of his face.

“She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.”

The prongs of a buck ready to clash over his territory creaked past your open thighs.

“But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Let's play a little game | Ethan Landry x Reader

Summary: You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p + v action, ambiguous consent, home invasion, cheating,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your hair, admiring how hot your body looked in those small shorts and cami. The rumors were true, you really looked your best in your early adulthood. You posed, making sure all your curves were in a flattering angle, and sent a picture to your boyfriend. It was a bummer Chad was away in Woodsboro for the weekend when you looked that good.

After exchanging some naughty texts with Chad, you called Tara if she wanted to come over and watch horror movies. The weather had been gloomy and cold all day, which was perfect for the occasion.

‘’If you had called me two hours ago, I would be running over in my pajamas and bringing along my fuzzy blanket, but I may have gotten a call from a certain brunet from my film class and agreed to go on a date…tonight.’’ Tara covered her mouth to stifle her excitement, but you could hear it in her voice.

A smile bloomed on your lips, excited for your friend. ‘’Oh my god! He did?’’

‘’Yes.’’ On the other side of the line, Tara paused, her head full of Tyler. ‘’I’m so nervous. It’s my first date ever.’’

‘’It’ll be okay, T,’’ you reassured her. ‘’And if he turns out to be a jerk, excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a text. I’ll call you and fake an emergency.’’

Tara promised, then hung up to finish getting ready for her date. She needed to leave before Sam got home and asked a plethora of questions. Maybe she’ll do a full search on Tyler to make sure he’s not a crazy Stab fanatic like her own ex-boyfriend.

You were about to shoot a text to Anika, but your phone rang again. This time, the caller ID was masked.

You answered with a frown.

‘’Hello?’’ a distorted male voice said.

Your frown deepened. ‘’Eh, shouldn’t I be the one saying ‘hello’?’’

‘’Who is this?’’

‘’Who are you trying to reach?’’

‘’I don’t know.’’ There was a short silence, then the man spoke again. ‘’Do you like scary movies?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ You took a body-spray from your vanity desk and spritzed a little on you, smiling when the sweet caramel scent filled the air.

‘’What’s your favorite scary movie?’’

You took a moment to think. ‘’Probably Jennifer’s Body. Does that count? It’s more of a horror comedy, but I’ve watched it a thousand times.’’

The stranger hummed. ‘’The one with the hot chick that eats her best friend’s boyfriend?’’

‘’Yes!’’

‘’Speaking of boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?’’

‘’Why? You want to ask me out on a date?’’ you joked, fixing the pendant of your necklace that had flipped over.

‘’Maybe.’’

‘’If you want to ask someone out on a date, calling on a masked ID is not the best way. It gives off stalker vibes.’’

‘’I’m not a stalker.’’

‘’How can I know you’re not?’’

‘’If I were a stalker, I would tell you how hard my cock is just from looking at you in those pajamas.’’

You gulped uncomfortably, standing from your vanity chair and going to your window to peer through the curtains to see if anyone was outside. You were on the tenth floor. How would anyone get up there from the outside? It didn’t make sense.

But it was the only window in your bedroom…

‘’I…I’m gonna hang up. I need to take my dog out.’’

It was a lie. You didn’t have a dog, but the stranger on the other end didn’t know that.

‘’Don’t hang up on me!’’ he yelled at you.

You did anyway.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Fuck.

‘’Why are you calling again?’’ you snapped at the caller, not bothering to check the ID. You knew it was him.

‘’To apologize, of course.’’

‘’Okay. You did. Now bye.’’ You pulled the phone away from your ear, but the man yelled at you.

‘’If you hang up again, I’ll come inside and gut you!’’

The threat was stronger and starting to scare you, but you couldn’t let him know.

‘’You’re bluffing,’’ you said, praying your voice wouldn’t falter. ‘’I’m on a high floor. You can’t get to me.’’

‘’From the outside, no. But who said I’m not already inside.’’

Fear settled in your guts as your phone buzzed with a text message. A picture. Someone in a Ghostface mask standing in your bedroom. He had a knife in his hand and you had a feeling it wasn’t a fake one.

When was this taken? And where was he now?

You searched your vanity for something to use as a weapon. There was a ton of makeup, a few perfume bottles, your hairbrush — all useless. Then your eyes fell on your manicure scissors. You used them a few nights ago to cut a thread from a shirt. They were small but pointy. It could injure your stalker.

Scissors tight in your hand, you stood from your chair and ventured to your living area. It was a very small apartment. The living room and kitchen were merged into the same room and all the lights were off. You turned the main light on, illuminating the whole room, but saw no one.

The curtains were closed. They were tall and thick enough for someone to hide behind.

Putting your fictive big-girl pants on, you walked to the window to check, but jumped and when you heard the distorted voice in your ear.

‘’Let’s play a little game. I say something and you do as I say….or else I’ll use that sharp knife on you. Got it?’’

You gulped and nodded. A part of you wanted to call the cops and signal a home invasion, but if your intruder was already inside, they would never get to you on time. Even at night, New York traffic was a nightmare.

‘’Take those little shorts off. I want to see those lacey panties you have on underneath.’’

You didn’t want to, but you reached for your small dolphin shorts anyway. You weren’t shy with your body, but getting undressed for a stranger to jerk off to you made you stomach churn. Your fingers touched your waistband, about to pull your shorts down, but stopped when you remembered you were not wearing anything under.

‘’I-I'm not wearing any.’’

‘’Don't lie to me. I can see those tiny shorts from here.’’

You looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was hiding. Your bedroom window was already out of the options. Your bed was a box and your closet and the bathroom door were shut. Where the hell was he hiding?

‘’Not the shorts,’’ you corrected. ‘’The panties.’’

‘’Naughty girl.’’

You should be disgusted, but you found yourself blushing — and slightly turned on — at the creepy stranger's words. Was it the Ghostface mask that was suddenly having this effect on you? You did feel a strange liking to the masked killers when you watched horror movies.

‘’Strip.’’

You fumbled to push your dolphin shorts down and out of the way, exposing yourself bare.

‘’Now go back to your room, get on the bed and sit against the pillows.’’

You did as told and leaned back into your pillows, but kept your knees closed. You could sense where this was going. Men loved to watch a girl touch herself. If you look at their internet history, you’ll find a ton of porn videos of women touching themselves.

He tutted you. ‘’Don't try to hide. Spread your legs. I want to see.’’

You knew you shouldn’t part your legs, but your arousal was getting stronger at every instruction. It’s like he had casted a spell on you and you were helpless to disobey him.

God, you should be disgusted with yourself. How could you be turned on by a masked intruder in a Ghostface mask asking you to strip and give him a free view of your intimate parts?

Shutting your subconscious, you parted your legs and exposed yourself, shivering when you felt the cool air of the room.

You heard a groan in your ear. ‘’That’s a beautiful pussy. Show me how wet you are for me.’’

Your free hand slid down your body and to your mound, then lower. You sighed as you reached your folds, spreading them and showing the way your lips glistened with wetness.

‘’Am I wet enough for you, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked into the room, sliding your finger up and down your folds a couple of times.

‘’Why don’t you stick a finger inside? Play with yourself for me.’’

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you did, your finger sliding easily. You thrusted in slowly, then out, and repeated. The pace was too slow for your personal liking, but you knew how to tease and turn on a partner. Watching a video of your fingers sinking in and out of yourself, coated with your arousal had made your boyfriend cum in his dorm bed many times.

But let’s not talk about Chad now.

You added a second finger and caught your bottom lip between your teeth when you curled them. You wish you had your pink vibrator for your clit, but your other hand was occupied holding your phone.

‘’Mmh, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.’’

‘’Are you touching yourself to the sight of me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked, bringing your thumb to your clit and rubbing.

A distorted whimper came from the other side of the line. He was.

The sensations from your touches were sending fuzzy tingles from your neck to your dripping pussy, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

‘’Is that all you’re going to do? Are you going to just watch me fuck myself for your own pleasure like a selfish asshole…or are you going to come and fuck me?’’

The line went dead and all the lights went off, sending chills down your spine. You removed your fingers, unsure if this was part of the game or not.

‘’Hello?’’ you called into the darkness of your bedroom. ‘’Is someone there?’’

It was stupid to ask, having seen enough horror movies to know what happens to characters who ask that very question.

The light returned with a static noise and you jumped when seeing a tall Ghostface figure standing at the end of your bed, watching you intently. He pounced on your bed like a lion on his prey, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you toward him.

A deafening scream left your throat, thinking he was going to kill you. Instead, he parted your thighs and lifted his robe, his pants already down to his thighs and his hard cock out. He wasted no time, thrusting himself between your wet folds and splitting your cunt open as you moaned out loud.

‘’You like being filled with my cock, uh? You unfaithful little whore!’’ the distorted voice said, grabbing your hips and pounding into you. ‘’Getting fucked by someone else while her boyfrined is away in California.’’

Unfortunately, you couldn't deny it. This cock felt fucking amazing.

You pushed all thoughts of Chad to the back of your head. You’ll figure this out later.

Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the man between your legs.

The sounds that rang from your throat were nothing short of obscene, mouth hanging open helplessly while he wrecked your pussy, his cock slick with the evidence of your arousal. You clawed at your sheets, your back arching from the bed from the intense pleasure filling your whole body.

Moans and grunts mixed with wheezings came from underneath the mask. Breathing must not be easy under the rubber mask. You reached out and took it off, gasping in shock when seeing who was underneath.

Ethan?!

You opened your mouth to speak, but he threw your legs over his shoulders and you cried out at the change of angle, not caring that your boyfriend’s roommate was fucking you.

—

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[comfortless]

Everything you write leaves me breathless <333

Sorry in advance for my English

I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)

granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.

The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.

It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.

She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…

There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.

Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.

He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.

The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.

This does not dissuade him from returning.

Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.

He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.

Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.

It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.

The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.

It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.

Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.

“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.

König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.

This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.

He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.

The statue— the goddess moves.

She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.

“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.

König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.

“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.

Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”

All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.

His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.

He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.

She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.

He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.

König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.

Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.

When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.

So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.

He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.

The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.

She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…

She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.

“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.

There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.

She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.

“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”

The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.

“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.

She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.

The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.

The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.

[1800-fight-me]

Dark Devotion

Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Once again, gothic horror romance vibes. The monster gets the girl. Fear, horror, and explicit PiV sex. Slightly non-con as Aemond compels reader, but reader definitely consents (you'll understand when you read it).

Word count: About 5.2k

Synopsis: Running from your old life somehow leads you directly into the arms of a monster, one that shows you pleasures you never could've dreamed of.

Author’s note: I know I have been completely MIA and inconsistent but tbh my life has been incredibly stresseful and I lost all motivation to write for a while. This is the first thing I've written in months that I am genuinely proud of. I even made a whole ass moodboard for it! I truly hope y'all enjoy. Happy Halloween! P.S. Comments will make my entire day and earn you a kiss on the forehead!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

There was a phrase you heard quite a few times in your village as a little girl, ‘the night is dark and full of terrors’. Your mum would always roll her eyes and mumble something about ‘religious fanatics’. You were always inclined to agree with her, that is until this night. 

This night truly was dark and full of terrors. 

Thunder cracked loud enough that your ears rang as rain poured something awful. The harsh droplets pelted at your skin and the sky split in half as a lightning bolt landed merely a stone’s throw before you. 

Your horse neighed in panic loud enough that you could hear him over the bellowing wind as he reared back on his hind legs, causing you to slip and fall off and land directly on your backside in the mud. 

You gasped in shock and did not even have time to call out before your horse bolted away, leaving you drenched and muddy on the forest floor. 

Instead of crying you merely turned your head up towards the sky, embraced the pain of the harsh rain against your cheeks, and screamed at the heavens in frustration. 

You managed to pull yourself up before the mud sucked you in below the surface of the world, adjusted the hood of your cloak once again over your head, and trudged forward. 

Your boots sloshed through the dampened forest floor and you thought that perhaps the naysayers in your village were right. Maybe the gods were punishing you for your promiscuity. 

When you laid with the soldier passing through your village and allowed him to take your maidenhood, you were convinced there would be no consequences. 

You were no one, nothing, and not having your maidenhood intact changed nothing other than the subject the gossipers in town clucked about. 

It seemed it also changed the gods’ vengeance towards you. 

This night was dark and full of terrors, that much you could sense as fear shot down your spine. 

You increased your pace, fearing the creatures that could be lurking in the woods, desperate for some sort of shelter. The feeling of eyes watching you from time to time during your journey became steady and unceasing. You felt uneasy, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up, and you knew it had nothing to do with the cold in the air. 

Eventually you had no other choice but to ignore the feeling, having looked behind and around you dozens of times in search of your stalker to no avail.

You trudged along for what felt like hours, not once finding anything that could serve as a temporary shelter. That was, until you somehow stumbled upon a near debilitated castle. 

As it came into view, you shuddered at the feeling the crumbling building invoked in you, but any shelter was better than none at this point. 

Stone walls with vines nearly overtaking them towered over you as you rushed forward towards the large wooden doors. You looked up and thought you saw a pair of gemstone blue eyes glowing in the dark from a window at the top of the tower, but you blinked and they were gone. 

You shook your head, sure your tired eyes were playing tricks on you, and reached for the handle of the door. 

You took a shuddering breath and pulled the heavy door open. Shock filled your very being as you were overcome with warmth and light. 

While the outside of the building was shabby, the inside was magnificent. It was well kept and well lit. A home fit for a king, with a grand staircase was directly in front of you and an elderly man in a servant’s outfit was walking down it.

“Young lady! Who are you and how dare you come into this home uninvited?” the man chided as he descended the last of the steps and stood before you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t know anyone lived here, I was merely searching for shelter from the awful storm,” you said, eyes wide- portraying how stunned you felt. 

The man’s stern facade crumbled and he smiled warmly at you, you let go of your held breath and managed a small smile back at him. 

“Ah, yes, I tend to forget the master’s illusion on the outside of the building. He does it to keep the unwanted away,” he said. 

“Illusion? Like magic?” you asked. 

“Well, yes, of course. Come in, let’s get you out of the cold. You must be miserable,” the man said as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind you. 

“Alfred,” you heard the voice of a man call out from another room. His voice caused a shiver to go down your spine. 

“Yes, sire,” Alfred, the man before you replied, and the man with the shiver-inducing voice came into view as he rounded the corner and came into the entryway where you stood. 

Your breath caught once again as you saw the most striking and beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. 

He was tall, nearly impossibly so, with long silver hair that fell nearly to his waist. He moved with the grace and control of a lethal killer. His facial features were sharp, as if he was cut from marble. His skin of pale white only emphasized his most distinct feature, an eye of sapphire that covered part of a scar that cut across his forehead and cheek. His remaining true eye was also a distinct blue color, nearly matching the sapphire one perfectly.  

Ethereal was the word that arose in your mind as he strode towards you, amusement twinkling in his eye as he took you in. 

“And who might you be, lovely?” he asked. 

After entirely too long of a pause, in which his amusement appeared to only grow as his beautiful lips curved into a smirk, you managed to stutter out your name. 

He repeated it back to you, leaning closer towards you, and your heartbeat sped into a gallop. He titled his head, almost as if he could hear it. You dismissed the thought, deeming it absurd. 

“My name is Aemond. Welcome to my home. Tell me, how exactly did you manage to find your way here?” he asked curiously. 

You leaned in closer with him, not realizing that your face was merely inches from his at this point, utterly drawn in and intoxicated by his presence. 

You were filled with a desire to please him and as a result you began rambling. “I was attempting to move away from my village. Take off and find a new life, but then there was a series of unfortunate events including running for my life, becoming irretrievably lost, and then becoming something I’m certain looks similar to a drowned rat after my horse was startled by the storm and I stumbled around for hours attempting to find shelter.” 

“Oh you poor sweet thing. Let us take care of you,” he purred and rather than set you at ease, something in the words made you feel as if your misadventures were far from over. And yet, you were entranced by his gaze and could not so much as force yourself to look away or take a step back. 

His smile grew wider as you nodded meekly. 

Finally, Aemond released you from his gaze as he turned to Alfred and asked him to fetch the maid Portia to assist you in cleaning yourself up. 

Before you knew it, you were being ushered up the stairs and into a room you could only assume was a guest room by an elderly woman with a sweet round face. 

She helped you to remove your muddy sodden clothes and you groaned in relief as you slid into a warm bath. You smiled warmly at her as you scrubbed your body and she cleaned your hair, all the while chattering to you about her love for her husband Alfred and their happiness working for Master Aemond. 

“Can you tell me about him?” you asked curiously as she helped you to dress. 

The dress she helped you into was of crushed velvet, sapphire blue like the gemstone in Aemond’s eye that had so caught your attention. The dress had a corset and plunging neckline that emphasized your curves. 

Portia hummed as she led you to sit down and began working on your hair. 

“He is a bit odd, yes. Intimidating and perhaps even scary to some, but he has a good heart. And is loyal and protective to those he cares for. He has treated my husband and I very kindly,” she said with a caring smile. 

Her words put your heart more at ease, still slightly worried about the new surprising circumstances you had found yourself in. 

“Does he typically extend that same kindness to visitors?” you asked, nervousness coloring your tone a bit. 

“It depends on the intentions of the visitor. A sweet thing like you? You’ll be well taken care of,” she said. 

“Does he often have ill-intentioned visitors?” you asked curiously. 

“It does happen from time to time, those in the nearest village hold hate for him in their hearts. Old prejudices I suppose, but no matter!” she said, changing the subject and her tone as she turned you around to view yourself in the floor length mirror. 

“Take a look at yourself, my dear. You look stunning, see? All the horror of the day washed completely away,” she said soothingly as she ran her hands up and down your upper arms. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw yourself. She was right, you’d never seen yourself look so beautiful before. You actually looked fit to reside in such a lovely home, unlike before, unlike any other time in your life. You’d never worn such a beautiful and expensive dress. You ran your hands across the soft fabric, up your torso and thought that it was the perfect inviting dress for someone else to touch you in. 

Images flashed in your head of the soldier you allowed to touch you, never while you wore something so pretty, but pleasurable nonetheless. Romps in the hay, literally as the two of you would often meet in your father’s barn and he taught you the art of a pleasure you’d never known before. 

You were not disillusioned about it, you knew there was no love between the two of you. You knew he would one day have to move on without you, but when he left town just as others found out about your affair, you were frustrated at being left alone with the consequences of a choice the both of you made. 

The townspeople, the people you grew up with, turned on you and called you a whore. Even your own father fell victim to their hateful whispers about you and kicked you out of his home. Only your mother helped you, sneaking you out in the dead of night and gifting you her horse to aid you on your journey into another life. 

You shook your head slightly in an attempt to clear those thoughts, the memories of both pleasure and pain, and smiled at your reflection. 

“Thank you, Portia, your efforts are greatly appreciated,” you said as you turned and embraced her in a warm hug. 

She squeezed you before releasing you and leading you out of the guest room and back down the grand staircase. 

You followed her into an elegant dining room, a fireplace lit - the fire crackling and warming the spacious room. The table was large enough to seat ten people, but only two place settings were set next to one another, somehow creating an intimate dinner even in such a large room. 

Aemond sat at the end of the table, and stood as he saw you. 

“Good evening, you look magnificent,” he said, voice as velvety as your dress. 

You did your best to hide how his words flustered you as you smiled softly and curtseyed. 

“Thank you, sire. But, this is too much. I did not mean to interrupt your your evening so and I-I’ll never be able to repay you-” 

He reached a hand out and you placed your hand in his. At the brush of your skin against his, your words fell off. 

His hands were cold, and yet- the mere brush of his fingers against yours filled your body with heat. 

“There is no repayment necessary, the pleasure of your company will be more than enough if you would please dine with me,” he said. 

“Of course,” you breathed out as you allowed him to guide you to your seat. 

Your nose was filled with the aroma of a hearty stew in a bowl before you and your stomach growled in anticipation. 

You gave Aemond a sheepish look even as he chuckled. 

“Eat, of course. You must be near ravenous. I’m familiar with the feeling,” he said, and his voice dipped lower. His eyes appeared to flash at his words, causing your heartbeat to jump, but you were far too hungry to think about it and played it off as a trick of the light, a reflection of the fire in his gemstone eye. 

You tucked in and struggled to hold in your groan of satisfaction at the taste of the soup. 

Aemond poured you both glasses of red wine and you thanked him as he handed you yours. 

“Are you not going to eat?” you asked him, suddenly feeling self conscious that you were shoveling mouthfuls of stew and bread into your mouth while he merely sipped on his wine and watched you. 

“Oh I intend to. Just not right now, I had what you might call a late afternoon snack,” he said and something about his words had a chill run up your spine, despite the warmth of both the room and the soup in your belly. 

“You told me of your journey here, but tell me about yourself. I find myself fascinated by the entirety of you,” he practically purred, and you immediately forgot your apprehension at his previous words. 

“I feel the same way about you,” you replied breathily. 

He smiled, a full glorious smile that made you feel as if the storm had ended and the sun had come out. But there was a glint, a sharpness, and with a start you realized his canine teeth were elongated. 

He must have seen the fear in your eyes as he reached over and grasped your hand gently. You felt that on fire feeling in your skin once again, but also felt all the fear wash out of your body. 

“Tell me about you,” he requested again, voice soft and low, a tone that caused you to wonder if that was how he spoke to his lovers late at night. 

You were filled with compliance, with a desire to please him, and so you did as you were asked, and told him everything about yourself. You told him of your childhood, your parents, your likes and interests, your dreams for a better life. 

He watched you with rapt attention, murmuring questions to prompt you to further share with him about yourself. And, oh gods, when he looked at you that way, his sapphire gaze so intense, you wanted to share yourself completely. 

“What had you so desperately searching for a new life?” he finally asked. 

So you explained, shamefully, how you laid with a man and became the village whore for merely choosing your own pleasure over mediocrity for once in your life. 

You looked down at your empty bowl, toying with the spoon, while you waited for his reaction, for his disgust and dismissal of you. 

Long cold fingers gently grasped your chin and lifted your head up to meet his gaze. 

You were enraptured by his undivided attention. 

“There’s no need to listen to the opinions of small minded individuals. Pleasure is nothing to feel guilty about. Especially when there are so, so many pleasures in life to discover,” he said and the soft lilt of his voice along with the dark tone made your toes curl. 

You wanted to experience unknown pleasures, you wanted him to teach you, to explore with you. 

You bit your lip, nodding slightly in agreement, and his hand slid up from your chin to curl around your jaw. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and you shivered. 

He pulled your bottom lip from between your teeth and you waited, nearly shaking with anticipation, for him to press his lips against your own, to replace the pressure with some of his own, and he smirked as if he knew what you were thinking, but pulled back. 

He sat back in his chair, far enough from you that you no longer felt intoxicated by his scent and presence, and you let out a soft breath of disappointment. 

Amusement and desire both seemed to dance in his gaze. You took a sip of wine, looking away from him to clear your head, and took a breath to steady yourself. 

“Will you tell me about yourself as well, sire?” you asked. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. “Please call me Aemond, sweet one.” 

“Aemond, I’d love to hear about you,” you requested once more. 

It seemed he had the same response to hearing his name drip from your lips as you had when he said yours, for his eyelid fluttered closed and his hand clenched into a fist, but the next breath he had composed himself once more and nodded. 

“My life… it feels as if it has been an eternity. A lonely one at that,” he said and this time you reached over and took his hand, holding it in support. 

“I was treated as if I were unwanted from the moment I was born, my eye taken hatefully when I was merely a boy, and then as a man I was deemed a monster. I was driven out of my home, my family did naught to protect me, and it took me far too long to find a place to call my own. Still, others that encounter me call me a monster and I find myself alone most of the time,” he explained and your heart hurt for him. 

“Why do others call you a monster? Your gemstone eye?” you asked as you leaned closer to him once again. 

This time you leaned in and placed your hand on his face, tracing the length of his scar with your thumb as you gently held his cheek. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed in a noncommittal sort of agreement. 

“I think it’s beautiful,” you said, your voice so soft it was practically a whisper. 

It was evident he heard you as he practically nuzzled his face into your hand. He gripped your wrist and ran his nose from the palm of your hand to the inside of your wrist, breathing in deeply. 

His actions, though gentle and loving, caused an inexplicable feeling of fear to drip down your spine, particularly when his lips pressed against your skin. You’d never realized what a vulnerable place in the body the wrist was, a bundle of veins, until Aemond pressed his perfectly curved lips against it. 

But as soon as it came, the fear was gone as Aemond looked up at you and you met his gaze once more. 

You reached out and pushed his silver hair out of his face where it had fallen and tucked it behind his ear. 

His long gorgeous hair was so soft you yearned to run your fingers through it and learn of his response, learn of the noises he would make when in pleasure. 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, appearing as entranced by you as you were by him. 

You could do nothing to hide the way his words flustered you, as the weight of his attention had you pinned down and unable to move. 

He caught your hand and held it in place against his hair. 

As he leaned closer to you, his movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator trying not to spook his prey. 

Your heart began to sprint and you were certain you would never be able to slow it again. 

His sharp nose brushed against yours, and the anticipation was so strong you forgot how to breathe. 

Aemond hummed softly before he finally, finally pressed his lips to yours. 

As his lips moved against yours you felt inherently changed, different. It felt as if a shadowed hand with sharp talons dripping with blood had reached through your chest and gripped your heart and claimed it. 

You were his, his, and you were prepared to swear to him your utter devotion, your life. You didn’t quite understand what you were experiencing, but you didn’t care as he deepened the kiss. As he claimed your mouth you gasped, letting out a small whimper. This gave him the in he needed to slide his tongue against yours. 

You shuddered, gripping his hair tighter as he lifted you with an ease that should not be possible and sat you atop his lap. 

Your dress prevented you from straddling him like you wished, but you could not complain as he gripped your waist tightly. You ran your hands from his face and his hair to his shoulders, down to his arms, gripping him tightly and kissing him deeply, with everything you had, with utter devotion. 

You let out a small yelp of surprise as your tongue explored his mouth and brushed against something entirely too sharp. 

He tore his lips from yours and met your gaze. Your chest brushed against his as it heaved while you attempted to catch your breath. 

Fangs, you recognized. Those were fangs in his mouth, made for sinking his teeth in. 

You could not discern how you felt, what you thought, for the utter fire for him burned through you. 

He traced your jaw, then the line of your neck down to your collarbone, slowly, achingly slowly as you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you again. Then, his lips followed the same journey his fingers had just taken. You shivered, your head falling back as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Tell me you are mine,” Aemond ordered, and his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you shiver. 

“I’m yours,” you replied breathily and you could feel his smile against your throat. 

“Tell me you want me,” he ordered. 

“I want you,” you whined, and his grip on you tightened nearly to the point of pain, but you could not focus on that. No, not when you felt those fangs graze against that most sensitive spot on your neck. 

The night is dark and full of terrors, the words rang through your head once more and your breath stopped as you realized you had fallen into this beautiful monster’s trap. Fear shot down your spine and made your body tense and freeze. 

“Hmm,” he hummed in reassurance as he pressed a kiss against your vulnerability. 

Your body responded immediately, you relaxed completely, becoming nearly ragdoll like in his arms. He lifted you, holding you as he stood, and walked into the next room, a sitting room of sorts, and laid you on a chaise. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out. 

He kneeled next to where you laid. 

“I care for you,” he said as he brushed a hand across your cheek, “I don’t wish to compel you.” 

He kissed you once more. At the feeling of his lips against yours, you were reborn. You had control over your body once again and you yanked him atop of you, deepening the kiss. 

He groaned into your mouth, and pulled back slightly, causing you to whine in protest. 

“You truly want me?” he asked, his tone sounding surprised. 

Your survival instinct had long since gone quiet as a result of you continuously ignoring its protests. 

“Yes,” you said and pulled his lips to yours again. 

“Perhaps we can make a deal then,” he said, trailing his lips down once more to his favorite spot on your neck, where your veins were most vulnerable.

“If you give me what I want, I will reward you with everything you desire and more,” he said and you again felt the sharpness of those fangs. 

You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Yes,” you agreed, all logic disappearing as desire overtook your very being. 

And you knew. You knew and he knew, that his compelling magic was gone, the desire you felt for him this entire time was real and true, not due to compelling whatsoever. There was something more, something deeper at play here, and your choice was your own as you chose him, completely. 

And with that, he groaned lowly and sank his fangs into your neck.  

Sharp indescribable pain is what you expected but instead it was like a dull buzz of pain nearly overwhelmed by pleasure. 

He ran his hands down your body, ensuring he paid special attention to your breasts and you gasped his name. 

Aemond’s hand slipped up your dress, inching up your burning hot skin, and finding the wetness between your legs that awaited him. 

You whimpered softly as he brushed your panties aside and finally touched you where you wanted him the most. 

His nimble fingers spread your slick and quickly found a rhythm circling your bundle of nerves as he continued to drink your blood. 

As the heat inside you built, he pulled his teeth from your neck and slowly dragged his tongue up your neck, licking up every last drop of blood from your skin. His fingers moved in perfect time with his tongue, and with no notice your release hit you, overwhelming you completely as you moaned loud enough to echo through the room. 

“Absolutely exquisite,” he said as he pulled back from your neck and looked deep into your eyes. 

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and you stared at him as your chest heaved, absolutely entranced. He then replaced his thumb with his bloodsoaked lips. 

He groaned as you kissed him eagerly, your blood in his mouth not causing any hesitation whatsoever. 

“I need you,” you gasped. 

“I have needed you for an eternity,” he replied as he began untying the corset of your dress. 

You moaned as the cool air hit your skin and he slowly and gently removed the beautiful dress from your body, leaving you completely bare. You turned and looked at the pile of sapphire velvet on the floor. 

He gripped your chin, turning your head to look at him once more. You helped him to remove his shirt, and then watched eagerly as he unbuckled his belt, beginning to make himself just as bare as you. 

“I must admit something to you,” he said and your mouth ran dry as the hard length of him sprung free. 

“Yes,” you asked breathlessly as you reached and wrapped your hand around him. 

He let out a sound low in his throat, something similar to a growl, as you began to move your hand up and down his length. 

“It is not happenstance that you found yourself in my home. I must confess that I have been watching you for a while now. I needed you. I needed to taste you, to make you mine. I influenced your journey here, guided you, so I could finally show you my devotion,” he said. 

“Then make me yours, completely,” you pleaded and guided his length to line up with your wet heat. 

With a groan he nodded his head and pushed himself inside you. 

He filled you, inch by glorious inch, and you could do nothing but gasp for air as you felt fuller than you’d ever felt in your life. 

You reveled in the press of your naked chest against his, as you pulled him close enough that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and where his began.

You were one with the vampire atop you, and you’d never felt more intense pleasure in your life. 

When he was certain you were ready, he kissed you, surprisingly tenderly, before he pulled out nearly all the way, and pushed back inside you, sinking to the hilt. 

His tempo was slow and deep, as he gazed deep in your eyes and told you how beautiful he found you. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” he praised as you mewled for him when he tilted your hips up and hit a spot of pleasure inside you that had never been found before. 

Aemond continued his pace, holding you tight, as your nails dug into his back. 

“Come for me, darling, I can feel how close you are,” he purred in your ear. 

He slipped his hand between your bodies and found your bundle of nerves once more, stroking it and you nearly screamed as your release wracked through you. 

You felt you had reached heaven, somehow, in the arms of your ethereally beautiful monster lover and it took you several moments to come back down. 

So lost in your pleasure, you had not even felt a sting of pain as he sunk his teeth into your wrist. He gulped your blood, moaning in pleasure, as he continued to pump himself in and out of your tight wet heat, chasing his own release. 

You tangled your other hand in his hair, and gripped tighter around his cock, urging him on, encouraging both his release and for him to continue to drink from you. 

He groaned as his release found him, sinking deep inside you, bringing ecstasy to you both. 

You shuddered a breath as his movements slowed and stopped. He pulled his teeth from your wrist, and murmured your name, like a praise- like a prayer, with utter devotion. 

As he looked at you, you reached up and wiped your blood from where it had dripped down his chin. 

He brought your wrist to his lips once more, and before you could protest that you were beginning to feel lightheaded, he surprised you by licking the wound clean instead of sinking his teeth back in, just as he had with the wound on your neck. 

You watched in fascination, as his saliva magically closed your wound, leaving only a small scar. 

He looked up and grinned at you, your blood coating his teeth, and you whimpered and pulled him into another kiss. 

He kissed you languidly, tongue moving against yours, as if he had all of eternity with you. 

“I have never tasted anything so divine,” he purred against your lips. 

“I have never felt so wonderful in all my life,” you said back as you pulled back enough to look upon him once again. 

“I can feel it. Can you feel it? You are to be my eternity, my everlasting, my one true mate. I give you my utter devotion. You said you wanted to start a new life. Start it with me. Let me turn you and we can be together forever. Stay with me,” he pleaded. 

And so you did. 

Yes, this night was dark and full of terrors, but this terror had wrapped himself around you, sunk deep inside you, and devoted his entire being to you, offering you pleasure and love unlike any you’d ever experienced before. 

And so, later, when Aemond fed you his blood and turned you and you opened your eyes into this new life, becoming a terror yourself, you grinned and kissed your vampire mate, prepared to spend forever by his side. 

[mr2swap]

wedding gift for "dad"

I feel terrible about how things turned out for me and my son David, but there is nothing I can do now. All I can do is live the life David always wanted for himself and his husband, Andrew.

I met Andrew when he was just a little boy who used to come every afternoon to play with my son David, the two of them were inseparable so much that I came to consider Andrew as the second son I never had, the years passed, and I saw how Andrew and David became men, until that moment I never believed that there was more than friendship between them, they were always so fanatical of spending their afternoons training in the gym until long hours of the night, studying in long sleepovers that lasted all weekend week and rehearsing their choreographies for the dance club they were both enrolled in. I guess I should have seen the signs.

10 years ago while the whole family was together and David was next to him, he decided to tell us the truth, they had been secretly dating for so long that I almost choked on a mouthful of my wife's delicious meatloaf, they all seemed quite happy at that moment everyone except me.

I was so stupid back then that at that moment, I decided that the man in front of me was not my son anymore, I started treating him differently, I cut myself off from him and Andrew completely, damn it! I even felt sorry that everyone on our street knew about it before I did. I'm 59 years old, in my day all that shit was kept secret, of course there were gay people, but I never thought David would be one of them.

For the good of the family I decided to just ignore David, but when he and Andrew came to my house with an invitation to their wedding I just couldn't help myself anymore, I told David that I didn't agree with his lifestyle and if he wanted to be gay had to be done outside this house and forever, I wouldn't attend the wedding of two fagots, let alone let someone from my family know about it.

From that moment I did not see David or Andrew again, until their wedding day, I was alone at home watching the football game on television, my wife had betrayed me and left me alone to go to the wedding from David and Andrew, I drank a six pack of beers just to forget today's wedding, but while you were watching the game something strange happened, I don't know if it was the effect of the beers or maybe the strange wish that my son made, I swear that In a simple blink that I lived in slow motion I was transported from the comfortable sofa in my house to a hotel room.

I looked around surprised because my living room had become an elegant room on the twelfth floor of a hotel, believing that I was in an extremely realistic dream, I looked at my hands, they were no longer old and wrinkled, now they were firm and young, my clothes I had also changed instead of a dirty tank top that highlighted my huge belly and yellowed boxer shorts I was now dressed in a fancy tuxedo, I looked down in surprise that my belly didn't obstruct my vision to see my feet which were now in a pair in elegant black shoes.

-This must be a dream…-

I said out loud and startled by the sudden change in the tone of my voice, something seemed familiar in that voice, but I didn't know what it was, I decided to believe that I was in a lucid dream thanks to all the pain that I normally suffered in my back and on my knees they disappeared, with my long and firm fingers I held my hard and firm pectorals, even the sensations on my skin were different and for some reason my nipples were also much more sensitive.

I kept using my fingers to highlight each of my muscles, I continued down towards my chiseled abs, surprised to find myself with the hardness of my muscles instead of a grotesque round belly, I looked to the sides trying to find a mirror, so I could see myself better, and luckily I found one that was on the other side of the huge hotel room.

When I first looked at my reflection, I immediately recognized the face that was now mine.

-AHHH!!!-

Indeed, that was not my face, it was the face of my son David, I fell backwards terrified by the impact of seeing my son again and at the same time knowing that I was him, I remained silent for a whole minute making movements slowly while crawling to the mirror my eyes did not take off for a single second from the reflection in the mirror that imitated each of my movements.

As I knelt in front of the mirror, I examined my son's mature handsome face, his perfectly trimmed beard, his whitened teeth, and his hair which I had recently painted black.

-What the fuck is… This?-

I caressed my new face while making strange expressions with my son's face in the mirror, to verify that it was me who was there. Suddenly, from the other side of the room, the ringing of a telephone made me wake up from hypnosis in who was submerged while looking at my face.

I stood up and awkwardly walked to the phone now that I was aware of the vast difference between my obese body and the young body of my gay son.

Before I had the phone in my hands I looked at the number, immediately recognizing it was the number we had had in the house for years, less and less convinced that this was a dream, I picked up the phone and simply answered it.

-He-hello?-

For five long seconds that seemed like an eternity the phone remained silent, a hoarse and thick voice broke the silence in which we were.

-Dad are you?-

-Who speaks? David? for the love of god what's happening?-

-Oh shit! If you are the one in my body, I… I'm sorry, I think this is my fault.-

-David, where the hell are you? and where am i? why is this your fault?

I had to sit down for the long conversation we had that day, he doesn't know exactly what happened, he was just getting ready to go down to the reception and be on his wedding day, but it seems an unexpected gift arrived, from out of nowhere a mysterious gift appeared on the floor, it was in front of the door so I guess it was a gift from her future husband or maybe the reception had sent them something in gratitude for renting the ballroom, the gift box was simple and it only had a name on it.

From: Mr2 Swap

He thought the gift was a mistake, that it simply wasn't for him and one of the hotel workers had got the wrong room, but for some reason he couldn't leave the gift unopened, it was almost as if he was calling him .

When he finished dressing, the gift was still there and David could not resist the supernatural curiosity that invaded him, he took the gift in his hands and opened it, he was not expecting anything specific, but what the box contained surprised him, it was a simple golden ticket

"Valid for one wish"

David looked everywhere, but there were no more letters or signs of who had sent the ticket.

-A wish huh?… I just wish dad was here to see how I get married-

And after that we both woke up in each other's place, while there Disney was counting all this madness I looked everywhere even under the bed, but there was no ticket not even a gift box it was like after his wish was fulfilled would have vanished.

While I was still looking for some clues as to where that strange gift had gone, my wife also dressed in an elegant dress entered the room, as soon as I saw her I knew that she had to find out what had happened to me and David But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried I couldn't say a single word about the exchange or about the real David now being drunk in my body thousands of miles from here.

-the wedding planner is waiting for you son, if you take longer on the phone, we will have to postpone dinner-

Caught by the magic of the ticket, I act exactly as David did, I took one last look in the mirror and with a smile I fixed my hair, I definitely wouldn't act like this in a situation like this, but David's personality was so dominant in to my mind that now that so much time has passed since then I can't believe that I actually married another man.

I drank a couple of drinks to ease the tension but as soon as I saw Andrew for the first time through my son's eyes it was like seeing him for the first time, he was a bit taller than me he had a lovely smile and had a body so fucking hot in that body hugging black suit that a boner formed when I kissed him in front of my family and David and Andrew's friends

I will never forget my first kiss with Andrew, his lips were firm but soft, his tongue was so wild that I was carried away by the intoxicating taste of his saliva and that slight taste of champagne, with his long and strong arms he caressed my round butt giving me a prelude to what would be my wedding night, the grip on his fingers dug into the meat of my ass like teeth, in my old life I never allowed myself to be weak, but now I enjoyed my newly husband's manipulations.

By the time the wedding ended I was drunk enough to let myself go, the real Andrew noticed my nervousness a bit, but he thought it was just the nerves before the wedding, I hadn't seen my son or Andrew in years, I knew what enough for the time we were together and for what his mother said to convince him that I was the real David.

Hours went by and it got darker and darker, when all the guests had left and me and Andrew went up to the room, the real performance began, the second we walked through the door immediately Andrew took my hands and he tossed me onto the bed like I was a wild animal I stripped naked revealing my son's years worked muscles, my heart was pounding like crazy as I watched Andrew take off his shirt in front of me, I had seen Andrew shirtless a lot of times when I was in my old body, but now it was very different.

As if they had a life of their own my hands began to adore Andrew's massive hairy pecs, I pinched those nipples that were in front of me and buried my face in the middle of his pecs, the smell was delicious, sweat, and a slight scent of champagne spilled on his shirt, Andrew seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was, his moans that must have seemed repulsive to me before now only turned me on more and more as he released one.

Andrew I can't contain myself for another second he took me by the waist and turned my body so that I was lying face down towards the bed, my legs settled as if they knew exactly what was happening, I arched my back and lifted my ass to display it in front of Andrew, this time the moans that filled the room were my own.

Andrew had plunged his face into my ass and with the same ferocity that he had desecrated my mouth he did with my anus, even though he had magically acquired the personality of my son David, all the sensations will be new to me, and my God. , what fucking incredible sensations!

As he used his tongue to please me with his strong, calloused, firm hands, he took my penis and began to masturbate it, for a straight man and I have done the old-fashioned like me all these pleasurable sensations were incredible.

But neither me nor Andrew were satisfied, Andrew stuck his tongue out of my hairy ass and slowly inserted his cock inside me, it was a painful sensation, but somehow familiar and pleasant, he fucked me so hard that day that surely we didn't let sleep to the people in the next room.

He was so drunk and so tired that day that I didn't realize when he had put me to sleep, and when I woke up to the rest of Andrew, I almost fell out of bed. Immediately, all the memories of the day before came to mind. I got out of bed as quietly as possible, took the phone and unlocked it with Andrew's face, it had 58 calls from the real David.

I changed into a pair of my son's tight revealing underwear and went into the bathroom, called David and told him everything that had happened that night, completely avoiding that Andrew and I had fornicated.

It was strange hearing my son cry in my old voice, but there was nothing I could do to comfort him, I just promised him that he would try to figure this out and not ruin his life or his new marriage.

Since that day I have been pretending to be David, every day is something new and to be honest it is exciting, thanks to my new personality I was able to fully adapt to David's gay life the new ideas did not seem disastrous to me as they would have seemed to me in my Old body, I always thought my son was a model or something, I soon found out that he and Andrew were the best strippers in the city where we now live, we had loads of money, I never thought fagots would pay so much just to see me dance, having fun, kissing and stroking my husband's cock in public.

It's been three years since then, Andrew and I have a nice house that we remodeled, a lot of savings in the bank, and we recently started an OnlyFans account as a couple, and he never suspected that she married her boyfriend's father.

Actually no one ever found out about the body swap, that's still our secret between me and David, and speaking of David we talked again after the swap, he has a hard time adjusting to his new life as a bigoted middle-aged man, all those stupid ideas that used to be in my head are now in hers but I think she's adjusting to her new gay son.

It's a bit hard to admit, but I prefer my new life, so I'll try not to open a mystery gift from Mr2 swap again.

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[fairytsuk1]

mile high club | (smut)

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 1.9k

warnings: sexual content, surprise visit, riding, quickie, couch sex, mild femdom, mild sub!alex, unprotected sex, pre-established relationship

summary: "Sooo, What about Quackity dating someone who lives in a different country, and since both of them have been really busy they haven't seen each other in person in a couple months, so he decides to give his s/o a surprise visit?"

It was as normal of a day as ever. You’d woken up early and greeted Alex, who happily called you while you brushed your teeth and washed your face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Good morning,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes, “what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” he avoids the question, “just getting on with the day. You have your little morning voice right now, so cute, you know.”

Your laugh rings prettily into the phone as Alex blatantly flirts with you. He still made you feel like a teenager, all giddy with excitement and want. Plus, you miss him. It feels like eons ago that he would pull you closer to his chest mornings like these, firm arms snug around your waist as he curled around you like a mama bear. Your heart ached at the thought, even just sharing breakfast or coffee felt special.

“Well, whatever! I just woke up and gotta start my morning routine. But seriously, what are you up to? It sounds kinda noisy?”

The mild hustle and bustle cuts through the phone's static. It’s too muffled to hear anything, and you’re too sleep-addled to decipher it, “it’s nothing, baby. I’m just at the store. It’s crowded today, but I need some groceries.”

“Oh, right, Target?”

Alex pauses, “Yeeeah. I gotta go, honey, but I’ll talk to you later!”

Something feels off, but you swallow your worries.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later! I love you.”

“Te quiero mucho.”

There’s a quick click and then silence. Usually, Alex was more carefree with his thoughts. He had no problem freely expressing himself to you; he even told you that you were someone who made him feel like he could. But maybe you’re just being an overly attached girlfriend! You’re just thinking too hard about this. It’s probably fine, right?

You brush your teeth hastily with vigor, and you make record-breaking time on your skincare routine. The faster you get your day started, the bigger head start you have against those anxious thoughts.

It was an extreme relief when you received sporadic texts from Alex.

[lex <3]: what’s up babe??

[lex <3]: I’m thinking of youu

[lex <3]: te quiero verte pronto <3

It made your heart race and make you want to look bashful and hide underneath your lashes because he was so charming. You eagerly reply to him with a plentiful amount of hearts and kisses. Just knowing he was thinking of you made you feel good. It uplifted your day as you flicked on mascara and tied up your New Balances. 

Things were average that day. The loud ringing doorbell broke you out of your TV rewatching reverie. You’re expecting some religious fanatics; damn, they could be so annoying. No packages you ordered that you knew of, no plans left forgotten, who could it be—

You’re absolutely taken aback. The breath in your lungs seemingly dissipates into the air, condensing into invisible wispy strands. What’s this? Alex stands before you with a bright smile. His jacket is black and puffy, and he’s got his striped beanie that turns beautiful wild locks of hair into a shape resembling an egg. It’s your boyfriend. He’s suddenly materialized on your doorstep with rolling luggage and smooth words, “Are you gonna invite me in?”

“Alex! Oh my god,” you fly into his arms, darting into them like the floor was a springboard, “this isn’t real. How are you here? This is insane!”

“I flew here; I had to see you,” he says earnestly, “I’m so fucking glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you, Lex!”

The two of you are locked in a cozy embrace. Your arms cradle Alex's head like he’s a baby, your baby, as you pepper soft, freckled skin with kisses. He tries to tell you to stop and tries to squirm away, but you aren’t letting go now that he’s here in your hands. 

"You totally lied about the grocery store!"

"Come onn, I couldn't give away the surprise!"

Alex holds you by your waist and takes deep inhales in your neck. Something about your scent and knowing that you’re there in his arms makes him feel high. That makes him feel more than elated, indeed in a near-delirious state of love.

Both of you adjust to him being back. His luggage is left haphazardly in the bedroom while he kicks his shoes off to get comfortable. You can’t help but hang off of him and touch every single part of him as if this is a dream that could not be possible. He preens, feeling your hand smooth down the expanse of his back, covered with a fit Planet Duck t-shirt that made him look so delectable.

You were always attracted to Alex; there was no question about that. However, the combination of not having seen him for long, along with his freshly cut hair, was doing things to you. The experience of being in his space was sending your pussy into overdrive. Even the first shared kiss the two of you have leaves you wanting more as your clit quivers. Alex seems like none the wiser to your needs as the two of you settle down together.

“What do you wanna order, pizza?”

“Whatever you want, handsome,” and your nails scratch at his forearm just to feel his goosebumps prickle up.

“Handsome? Why thank you,” he smirked, giving you an Eskimo kiss. “Are you sure you don’t have a craving for anything?”

“I think… the only craving I have is you.”

“Wow, you must really want me to be begging like this,” he teases, bringing his face so close that his breath hits your lips, “what do you want?”

“I want my boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in months, to fuck the shit out of me. Think that can be arranged?”

“Absolutely,” Alex brings you into a kiss.

His hands weave into the hair at the back of your neck. When he brings you closer, the tension of the pull makes your jaw drop in a gasp. Alex takes advantage of your blatant thirst through your lips by slipping a slick tongue to toy with yours. He tastes like mints, and you fist your hand in his jacket with a crinkle. Both of you sway, shifting first to lean back before you press your lips against him harder and swing a leg over his wide legs. 

It feels sweltering when the two of you pull away with panting breaths. You’re perched high in Alex's lap, and his hands possessively hold the curve of your ass. His lips are pink if slightly bitten, as they swell. You’re sure yours aren’t any better, but it hurts in the best way when you rejoin your lips together for another kiss.

“Extrañe tanto tu cuerpo, quiero comérmelo,” he rasps and rolls you further into his chest, further against his hardening cock.

His words leave you shivering as you roll your hips against him again.

“Wanna ride you first, I’ve missed your cock filling me up sooo much.”

Alex blushes at hearing your praise. Your hands caress his shoulders soothingly as he relaxes more on the couch, “I think about you all the time. Fisting my cock pretending it’s your pussy, fuckk, but it’s never the same.”

“My fingers never do it like yours do,” his sweatpants are expertly undone and tugged down.

“Oh, I know. I always make you feel good,” his hips lift as you lower his boxers to reveal the tan skin of his thick cock.

Your mouth instantly waters at the sight of him. His head is dark and weeping with pre-cum as it twitches in the cool air. Spitting on your hand, eye contact is captivating as you begin to work your hand up and down his cock. Your wrists twist, and Alex lets out a high-pitched moan, hand digging into the plush cushion of the couch. He only whines sweeter and pants heavier as your slick up his dick, working him up till he feels his balls churning with the need to release.

Alex whines when you let go, hands pawing at your waist to align your dripping hole with the head of his cock. His mouth is fast to latch onto your nipples or to lightly nibble at the soft skin of his tummy.

“Be patient,” you lightly chide.

“Can’t, need you too bad,” he moans as delicate fingers touch his cock, “I wanted to surprise you, so now you treat me.”

“What a demanding boy.”

“Ah! Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck,” your soaked pussy sinks down on his fat cock.

He’s not impossible to take, but the stretch still makes your stomach quiver after such a long time. It’s welcoming, though. Your pussy is carved to take Alex, to be fucked relentlessly by him as he makes your tongue loll out your mouth.

“God, fuck! I missed this so much, Lex,” your eyes are teary as you wetly rise and lower yourself on his dick, “making me feel so full.”

“You’re amazing, riding me so well. Hah, ah, you always make me feel good!”

You’re preening and crawling closer with faster hips as Alex wails for you. There are lewd smacking sounds that reverberate through the room as you fuck yourself on his dick. Things heated up so fast that everything felt as though the intensity of your fucking had been turned up to eleven.

His cock curves in your gummy walls. Every downstroke leads to the tip pressing against the spongy spot inside you; it makes your hips seize desperately as you pound yourself against Alex. He’s moved to lightly jerking his hips, mouth suckling on your tits and leaving gentle marks on your back. His nails are blunt, but the sting makes the coils inside you grow tighter and tighter with tension.

You feel so wet, wet, wet. Your walls are squeezing Alex, desperate for every single drop of release, and his orgasm is about to slap him in the face, “I-I’m getting close, oh shit. Babe, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum inside me, Lex. I wanna feel it, breed me,” it comes out in a whine as you grow closer and closer to your peak, “gonna cum all over this cock, papi. Fuckkk, you own this pussy! Oh, oh!”

Alex cums first. His hot ropes fill you like warm lava, filling your pussy to the brim with his seed as he groans out from under you. He was at your mercy as you milked him through your orgasm, milky walls squeezing his dick for all it’s worth. Your thighs ache in the best way as you sink into his lap. 

His cum leaks out of you lewdly around his softening cock. Both your eyes meet as you regain your breath. He looks a mess, and you know you do two as your sweaty bodies rest against each other. A flicker of fondness turns into a full-blown flame, “I-I love you. I missed you so much.”

“I love and miss you too, a ton,” he whispers, “and I’m glad I came to surprise you.”

You smile at him with watery eyes, “Yeah, me too.”

[odxrilove]

☆ TXT AND THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEIR PARTNER IS A FIRST GRADE TEACHER

pairing: txt x f!reader

genre: hcs/scenarios, fluff, established relationship

a/n: requested by anon! song rec - fairy by dvwm.. thank u coco @enluv for helping me out and being my partner in crime ily ^^

back to masterlist!

☆ YEONJUN

gives you stickers he gets as freebies in his packages. Yeonjun is a sucker for a good pair of jeans, a heavy leather jacket and some silver accessories to top it off. The thing is, being fresh out of university and moving out of the dorms into a small studio is quite a problem when you’re a clothes fanatic such as yeonjun. So, to earn some money beside his job and keep his closet in order, he opens an account on some popular secondhand online shops. Yeonjun likes showing off his new finds to you, excitedly telling you about the deal he managed to get, how happy he is to finally get his hands on said item and upon seeing your soft smile, kissing you on the temple and whispering how he’ll make sure you two match. Sometimes, the package includes freebies, mainly stickers, which he immediately sets aside for you– you and your students would love this, he thinks. Yeonjun sells clothes too though, and you find it particularly endearing how he refuses to reuse any of the stickers as freebies, because they are yours, like he always claims.

☆ SOOBIN

buys the food for the classroom's pet. Soobin used to work at a pet store in his first year of university to be able to afford his own car. The pet store was also the place where you both bumped into each other for the first time, and where you ended up sharing your first kiss after you decided to swing by to check in on him. So in short, the pet store in between the old dinner and newly-renovated 7-11 meant a lot to the both of you. Years had passed and now you both only stepped foot in the store a few times a year, just enough to not forget the workers’ faces and see the new animals come in. The next time your boyfriend visited the pet store was exactly a few days after your principal allowed your class to get a classroom pet– a cute hamster whose name was Snickers, voted by your students. The owner of the store welcomed Soobin with a wide grin and a pat on the back, even offering him a discount on the hamster food you had begged him to get since you’d forget (he acted like you owed him but in reality, it was on his way to work and he could never resist your pretty pout). It would become part of your routine, your boyfriend buying Snickers’ food when needed and you accompanying him on the weekends, staring at the cute animals with joy while the store owner and his old boss teased him about the heart eyes he’d send you. Ah, young love, he’d say, laugh resonating through the store.

☆ BEOMGYU

sharpens the classroom's pencils for you every friday. Beomgyu’s week is usually always booked– when he isn’t studying or working, he’s playing the guitar and meeting up with friends and family. That doesn’t mean though that you aren’t spending any time together, but more often than not your dates or “quality time” moments are are the end of the week (he once claimed he likes it because he enjoys ending his week on a good note– tsk, what a romantic). He hasn’t outright told you that he likes the comforting silence when you’re both sitting in the living room, cozying up together and doing your own things, but the way he shyly nods when you pat the space next to you on the couch every time is proof. Sometimes Beomgyu just needs life to be a bit more peaceful, and sharpening all your classroom’s pencils while you grade your students’ papers next to him is exactly fulfilling that need. Once in awhile too, if he’s free, he will walk into your empty classroom with a grin as you do your “typical end-of-the-day teacher things”, ready to pick up every single pencil off the floor and from under the desks, just so you don’t have to collect them and you can go home, together.

☆ TAEHYUN

helps you paint your monthly and seasonal banners for your classroom. Taehyun isn’t a very artistic person– younger, he’d more the type to clumsily spread different colors of paint over the canvas, turning the stunning colors in a brown mess– but he fails to help you out if you’re feeling even the slightest bit out of inspiration. Truly, you had been planning and working on these banners for your classroom for months and to say you were getting tired at the unaesthetically pleasing sight in front of you was an understatement. The only banner you were missing was the one for fall but every time you tried to paint out a beautiful scenery with trees and fallen leaves, the dark colors only made you want to bury yourself six feet under. Only one call of your boyfriend’s name was needed for him to come running to your rescue, taking a pause to look at your “art” before stiffing his laughter and settling next to your on the ground. It wasn’t long before Taehyun had filled the banner with mushrooms and squirrels, brushing paint on the fabric carefully. He was proud of his artwork at the end and you could only smile, thanking him with a kiss and a promise to show his work off. When the next Monday came, you couldn’t help but snap a photo at all your students admiring the new banner, scooting closer to it to take a better look and giggling at the baby squirrel.

☆ HUENING KAI

prepares you your favorite drink in colorful thermos mugs. Huening kai wakes up around the time you’re getting ready to leave for work and every time without fail, he’s drag himself out of bed and to the kitchen to make you your favorite drink. While the water boils-- you usually have coffee, sometimes hot chocolate if you’re feeling a little bit silly– your boyfriend would walk over to where standing rummaging through your bag for your daily-use lipbalm and stare. He’d look you up and down and even wink at you if you make eye contact. He would compliment your outfit (“your shoes go well with your pants, they make you look taller”, “I like how you did your hair this morning”, “your eye shadow is cute, did you use the new pallet I bought you?”, etc..) and kiss you good morning before walking off to finish his daily task at the ping of the boiler. Just before you walk out the door, a sleepy voice calls out to you and a thermos mug is soon pushed in your free hand. The mug’s color matches perfectly well with your outfit and you blush at the effort, kissing him goodbye and leaving for work, ready to brag about your favorite drink and new mug to your students– you just know they are going to be thrilled at the flower print.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @tyunni @4xiaojun @pointlessapple @yyx2 @hykai @pearlygraysky @angelhyj @enluv

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[ganymede-princess]

A Hazy Shade of Winter | Angus Tully

PART 2

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Angus is literally so mean, but he's like that in the movie anyways.

summary: Carol's parents send her to spend the winter break with her uncle at Barton Academy, and a certain curly-haired boy takes an immediate (dis)liking to her.

word count: 2790

a/n: I watched the Holdovers like 2 nights ago and I’m obsessed with it now so here’s this! Maybe a second chapter coming?

written by @ganymede-princess

Misery. Absolute fucking misery. That’s all Angus could see for the foreseeable future. Just an ocean of black, sticky misery, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. As he settled his bony rear on the hard edge of the ping-pong table and listened to Hunham gleefully dole out their sentences, he thought he would vomit any moment, or drop dead. He kind of hoped he would. He scoured his eyes over the pitiful creatures he’d be bunking with this winter break; two little boys: a religious fanatic and a foreign exchage student, the school’s star quaterback, and fucking Kountze. Five little Christmas orphans. Angus would blame karma, if he believed in that hippy-dippy shit. The most unbelievably unfair part of all this was that he wouldn’t even be able to jack off in peace since all five of them would be bunking in rooms one and two of the infirmary, with Hunham in room four. God knows why they couldn’t use room three, but Hunham seemed determined to avoid any questions pertaining to that.

Just when he thought his holiday couldn’t get any worse, the girl arrived. She skittered in like a mouse, out of breath, red-faced and shaking like a handbag dog. Six little Christmas orphans.

“Ah, you’re here.” Hunham extended his hand welcomingly, and gestured to her to step forward.

She crept over, giving the ping-pong table and couch full of boys a wide berth, then nervously shook Hunham’s hand and scuttled away to sit on the floor and tuck her knees up under the frumpy men’s jumper that swallowed her whole, like a turtle retreating into a shell. She waved at the five of them, cherry lips curling into a tight smile.

“Is that a girl?” Kountze said, loudly.

“Indeed, it is. Students, this is Miss Carol Hunham, my niece. She will be joining us at Barton for the winter break.”

“Teddy Kountze.” The little freak said, practically falling over himself to shake her hand. He looked ridiculous crouching there beside her like he was about to accost a rabbit at a petting zoo. If brown-nosing was a sport, he’d be a world classer. “Wonderful to meet you. If you need a tour guide, come to me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

She nodded in thanks, regarding him with huge puppydog eyes. Angus thought she must be dumb or tongueless. Five-foot-nothing, wearing unfashionably tapered plaid pants and Chelsea boots that were all the rage a decade ago, huge turtle-shell glasses that made her brown eyes bulge out of her head like a salmon… the only cool thing about her was her dirty blonde shag haircut, but even that came across as trying too hard. With that, and those round cheeks and fat mushroom of a nose, Angus almost expected to hear Hunham introduce her as his niece. Almost.

“You’ll be taking her nowhere without a chaperone, Mr Kountze. Now, gentlemen, and lady, off you go to the infirmary building.” Hunham’s one good eye roved over the room, then settled on Angus. “Mr Tully.” He addressed him in his weasley way, voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Be a gentleman and help Miss Hunham take her bags to room three."

Now it made sense why they'd been forced to leave it empty. The little fuck had a whole room to herself.

"I'm not a gentleman." He responded, insolently as possible.

"Then play the part."

"Fine." The ping-pong table screeched backwards as he stood up, grabbed his case and stormed over to the girl who leaped to her feet, eyeing him warily as he marched her out of the room and collected one of her ridiculously heavy suitcases and set off outside with the puppy in tow.

"Um." She began, her voice a pathetic whimper. "I'm Carol Hunham."

"I heard."

"And you?"

"Angus Tully. Are you deaf or something?"

"He d-didn't say your first name." Angus grunted in response. "So, you're- you're holding over?"

"What?" The question was so insipid it made him stop in his tracks and gawk at her. "Of course I'm holding over! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry." She whispered, averting her eyes. Angus felt a rush of regret as her lip trembled, but he swallowed it and marched on.

The air was biting cold, and Angus wished he had two jackets on- or better yet, a hot-blooded model on each arm- but unfortunately he was stuck between this girl making goo-goo eyes at Kountze and her machiavellian gargoyle of an uncle. As the rest of them caught up, his simmering rage suddenly bubbled over and he broke the silence in a voice thick with hatred.

“This is the most bullshit ever! If we have to stay, why’d we have to draw Wall-eye?”

“Uh, y’know he used to be a student, right?” Quaterback drawled.

“Yeah, that’s why he knows how to inflict maximum pain on us, the sadistic fuck.”

“Yeah.” Quaterback agreed with a giggly laugh. “I mean, no offence Hunham, but your uncle sucks.”

“I don’t know him.” The girl had retreated to the fringe of the group, and when she spoke up her voice didn’t command much attention.

“At least we didn’t draw Decker, he’d be perving all over us.” Kountze sidled up alongside her and let his arm brush against her. “And we wouldn’t have Carol here with us.”

Angus rolled his eyes, but felt vindicated when he noticed her pull away from him, almost fearfully.

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second.” Angus leaned up against the pickup at the side of the road and lit up a cigarette, eager to relieve all this tension.

“No, I got something else.” Kountze pulled out a stinking doobie and gestured for his lighter. “Gimme that.”

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here.” He chided. “I don’t wanna get busted by Wall-eye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Angus felt his blood pressure rise. “I just don’t want to get up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

Kountze didn’t bother responding, just blew out a fat drag and smiled in satisfaction.

“Teddy Kountze.” He said, offering the joint to Quaterback and trying to sling an arm around Carol but she sidestepped him to Angus’s amusement.

“Jason Smith.” Quaterback responded with a sickeningly charismatic smile.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Fucking bootlicker. “You wanna hit this?”

He cast a glance up the road, but Wall-eye was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, yeah.” 

He took a puff and offered it to Carol.

“No, thanks.” She held up her mittened hand. “I-I hear pot can give you the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies.” Jason repeated, grinning. “Cute.”

She was sort of cute- Angus begrudgingly admitted now that he’d seen her up close- in that pitiful way that those fucked up little pug-dogs are cute. He wondered if she had asthma. Besides, it’s not like he cared. At least, if somebody like her could be cute, maybe he was too, with his hawkish nose, narrow eyes, five o’clock shadow, gangly limbs, scraggly hair… No, that’s ridiculous. Unless… He wondered if she thought he was.

“It’s mellow stuff, babe.” Kountze assured her.

She blushed and shook her head, then turned her massive obsidian orbs to Angus.

“C-can I…?”

He sighed heavily, arranging his face into a scowl before he handed over the cigarette. She took a dainty puff, then handed it back. He took a drag himself, savouring the knowledge that his lips were touching the same place that a girl’s had just rested.

“More?” He offered it back.

“No, thanks. I don’t really… y’know.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He scoffed and stuffed it back in his mouth. “Such a pristine girl, I bet you never did anything wrong in your life.”

Flushing, she averted her eyes.

“So, how’d you get stuck holding over?” Kountze queried, his demeanor forced casual.

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack,” Jason said cheerfully. “But my dad put his foot down, said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you just cut your hair?” Angus snorted, feeling a fresh rush of anger. How could you throw away a perfectly good winter break just because you’re sentimentally attached to your godamn freak flag?

“Civil disobedience, man.” He grinned.

“I dig it.” Carol spoke up suddenly. “Conformity is a dangerous thing.”

“See, she gets it.” Jason put his arm around her shoulder.

“You like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?” Her blonde lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him. Angus could have puked all over the sidewalk, and Kounze looked like he might actually do it.

“Man, I love ‘em!”

“Almost Cut My Hair?”

“My anthem.” He nodded solemnly. “That album was my whole life last summer.”

“Neat.”

Angus noticed her head tilt to rest on his shoulder as he offered her the joint. This time she took it, allowing herself a long drag. He gritted his teeth and fought off the urge to deck that filthy hippy then and there.

“Anyway,” Jason waved his hand, as if clearing the conversational slate. “My dad’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was kinda hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

Jason’s hand made its way into Carol’s hair, curling a lock of it around his finger. Angus’s fist closed involuntarily while Kountze’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, lip slightly curled in frustration.

“What about you, Mr Moto?” He said, locking onto his target. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, no. My name is Ye-Joon.” The boy explained innocently. “Uh, my family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Kountze laughed and looked around for approval, to which he found none.

“Uh, wh-what’s a rickshaw?” Ye-Joon seemed genuinely baffled.

“You’re an asshole, Kountze.” Angus said darkly. “Your mind’s a cesspool, and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole, Tully?” He sneered back. “You’re the one who blew up history.”

“Hey.” Jason held out his hand gently, then turned to the other kid. “What’s your story, man?”

“Alex Ollerman.” He responded, his voice stronger than the other boy’s. All that faith in a higher power, I guess. “I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?” The kid nodded proudly.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of, like, magic underwear?” Kountze gawped.

“That’s a common misconception.” Alex began. It seemed he had all his bases covered, and he turned to address the Korean kid too, as if he might convince someone to join. “Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when we-”

“Hey, what’s up with the townies?” Kountze interrupted, already distracted by something shiny. Angus was mildly relieved he wouldn’t be hearing any more panty-talk- he’d had quite enough for one day, what with his bathing suit and all- but, his relief quickly turned to annoyance when he noticed the two men coming down the road, hauling a Christmas tree between them.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us.” One of them responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna put it back in the lot.” The other explained. “We do it every year.”

Angus turned back to the group and shook his head darkly.

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

______________________________

Angus didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to be in the infirmary, but when they stepped into the heated building, he might have sighed in relief if he wasn't in such a black mood. His arms absolutely caned from carrying that stupid suitcase, and Kountze had been smack talking the whole way up the hill. He thought the only thing worse than bunking with the two kids would be sleeping in with Kountze while he tries to tickle Jason’s balls. He’d much prefer to cosy up in the girl’s room, irritating as her face may be. He abandoned his luggage outside room two and hauled Carol’s down the hallway while she pattered along at his heels.

"Why do you need two cases, anyway?" He sneered, stealing the comfort of silence. "You can't have that much shit to carry."

"It's-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Well... well, why should I tell you, huh? You're- you're-"

"What? An asshole? A jerk? A philistine, as your mole uncle says? Y’know, I'm pretty sure there's a faculty rule against targeted insults towards pupils."

"You're mean." She admitted in a small voice. "And I don't know why."

"Yeah, well get used to it sweetheart. Just wait till Kountze gets over your gyno-gimmick and starts treating you like he does everyone else, you'll be begging for 'mean.' And by the way, you’re just antagonising him by hanging all over Jason all the time.”

“What’s Jason got to do with it?” She snapped, raising her voice for the first time.

“Aw, I hit a nerve, huh?” He delighted in watching her face turn scarlet.

"Y-y'know, when you stood up for Ye-Joon earlier, I thought you might actually be cool. I'm disappointed."

She said nothing else, just ducked her head and ran ahead to open the door for him. Baffled, he barged past her and dumped the suitcase on the nearest bed.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" He rounded on her, suddenly tired of the way she let him walk all over her. "I mean, other than to ruin the ambience with that hideous sweater-"

That did it. She let out a choking sob and made for the door.

"Hey, hey wait!" He flailed out his long limbs and caught her around the arm, but she wrenched herself from his grip and made off down the hall, away from Hunham and the other boys to Angus' relief. "Carol, wait I didn't mean it."

She didn’t respond, just sped off and careened around the corner. Angus caught up just in time to see the door of the broom closet swing shut. He clucked his tongue and sat down on the hard floor outside, feeling a wave of disgust as he listened to quiet weeping. Gently, he rapped the door with his knuckles.

“Carol?”

“Go away.”

“Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Go away!”

He paused for a moment, and considered his options.

“Your sweater isn’t actually ugly, by the way. I was just ribbing you, y’know? Horseplay?”

“No.” She said firmly, voice muffled through the wood. “No, I know ribbing and that wasn’t it. Y-you were being cruel, and you wanted to see me cry, I know it.”

“What? No!”

“You enjoy it, don’t you? You’re so miserable, the only fun left for you is making everyone else feel as wretched as you.”

He swallowed thickly, feeling a lump of shame coating his Adam’s apple. He took another long moment to collect himself. He resented how easily she read him, but if he wanted to keep her from finking, he’d have to choose his words carefully, and eat a large portion of his pride.

“It’s true.” His stomach roiled in revulsion as he grovelled to her. “I’m sore about holding over, and I wanted to take it out on someone, and you looked like easy pickings. I’m brash, I’m rude, I hate everyone including myself, and I make it everyone else’s problem.”

She paused her sniffling, as if sizing him up.

“Well.” She said thickly. “Thank you for admitting it. That was very… self reflective.”

“I go to a shrink, I kind of have to be self reflective.”

“Ah.” She sniffled. “You can leave me alone now.”

“I would,” Oddly, it felt good to tell somebody… Good enough that he was able to go back to being sly. “But this closet doesn’t open from the inside. Every time we get a new janitor they get locked in here. Happens like twice a year.” She said nothing, but Angus heard her breathing pick up in pace. “I mean, I can always leave you in here.”

“No!” She said urgently. “Let me out, please.”

“I will, if you promise not to fink.”

“I-I won’t fink. If you leave me be, I won’t fink. Pinky promise.”

“Alright. I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible.” He clambered to his feet and opened the door for her. She was already standing, and as soon as she saw the light, she tried to scoot out beside him, but he moved his arm to stop her. “Pinky promise, remember?”

Begrudgingly, she curled her finger around his, then slipped out past him and returned to her room. Angus watched her go, and something broke inside his chest as the door closed behind her.

[reverieblondie]

Costume Party

Pairing: Peter B. Parker X Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with some Plot, Exhibitionism, Praise, Mask-Kink, Protected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Fingering, Pining.

Summary: At a costume party you run into a guy with a very impressive Spider-Man costume....He seems familiar...

A/N: So, I am not ashamed to admit it! I think Peter B is hot and needs more fics about him. For this story MJ and Peter are divorced. If you enjoyed this Halloween themed Fic, please checkout my Halloween Fic with Miguel here.

Word Count: 6,245 (Not edited very well, sorry)

“I can't believe how crowded this place is, it’s not even Halloween yet?” 

You shout in the crowded bar filled with an array of costume-clad people. It was a week before Halloween and people were already out and about getting the Halloween festivities into full swing. Your friend Bea laughs at your remark.

“Well some people are trying to get the most out of their costumes, it's no fun you only get one night to enjoy it.”

“Like Mallory?” pointing your finger to the dance floor you see your friend Mallory dressed as an amazing Jason Voorhees tearing it up on the dance floor drawing in a crowd. Let's just say Mallory takes Halloween very seriously. 

Taking a moment just to appreciate your friend Bea breaks the silence, “Never thought I would see Jason twerking…” 

“You have to love her enthusiasm” you respond hypnotized by the slight. 

“Well Kitty Cat, I think Jason could use a dancing partner and Barbie is just the right person. Are you going to join us?” Bea dressed as cowgirl Barbie begins to dance over to Mallory as she keeps her eyes on you for your answer. 

“You two go for it, I'm going to walk around, maybe get some fresh air..” 

With that Bea gives you a nod and starts dancing with Mallory, rewarding you with the image of Barbie dancing with Jason Voorhees. Not being much for dancing you start walking around the party and watching the different costume-clad people having fun and interacting. There are Vampires, Werewolves, Nurses, disgraced celebrities, and ghouls galore! Costumes ranged from professional cosplayer level to a dude in a Spider-Man tee shirt and a plastic mask. No judgment though you went the basic route with your costume going as a sexy kitty, a costume that Mallory had loaned you from her vast collection. 

Mallory being the Halloween fanatic had invited you and Bea to this costume party at a popular club and with it being October, of course, it was a costume party. Not minding too much you had Mallory pick out a costume for you and off to the club you went. 

In all honesty, you needed a party to attend, work was starting to stress you out due to your boss being well a dick. Now three hours in the club is in full swing, the crowded floor and booming music all though enjoyable was starting to give you a slight headache. So needing to find a way to soothe your headache you decide to go outside to get some first air. 

Pushing your way through the club you find a backside door. Perfect! Haphazardly swinging it open, you hear a smack followed by a low groan. Quickly stepping out in the cool night air you see a guy in a very impressive Spider-Man costume rubbing his hand over his nose. Shit- 

Feeling guilty you rush over apologizing profusely, “Oh, I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Why are you swinging doors open so-” The masked man quickly stops mid-sentence looking at you in what seems to be a surprise, you can only assume due to the mask covering his face, but the white lenses grow wide looking at you so it tipped you off. Clearing his throat he finally looks away before speaking, “I’m fine don’t worry about it”

“Well I feel bad I smacked you pretty hard, is it broken?” You try reaching for the mask to lift it but he quickly holds his hands up moving away and stopping you. 

“I’ve taken worse hits, it’s no big deal really” He lifts his mask and reveals his lips and the tip of his nose. “See, not even bleeding,” he says with a slight smile. 

Woah, diggin the scruff there my guy, plus that cute smile? You couldn’t help yourself from blushing slightly. He lowers his mask again, seeming to be leaving but you interject. “Um Wait, I still feel bad! Maybe I can buy you a drink? To make up for my reckless door opening?” 

He seems to think for a moment, rubbing his hand on his chin. Watching as he eyes you for a moment, you can't see his eyes but you have a feeling he is talking to you all in. Adjusting your skirt you give a sweet smile trying to persuade him. 

“You're not going to hit me again, are you? kitty?”

The playful pet name has you biting your bottom lip quickly. Okay, flirt. Not knowing the way that costume is showing off his arms, the playful teasing, or maybe it's the mask but you're intrigued by him.  

 “Not unless you give me a reason too” you playfully say, opening the door and turning back for him to follow you in.  

“Well I will tread carefully then,” he follows closely behind you. 

Making your way with Spider-Man in tow, you push past all the different ghouls. Finally making your way to the bar you hand him a menu looking through one yourself. “Just try to steer away from the top shelf please.” 

This gets a laugh out of him as he leans against the bar, something about his laugh seemed familiar in a way but you couldn't place it. “I thought you were making up for hitting me with a door?” 

“I am, but you didn't bleed, if you had bled you could have gotten top shelf.” You tease and it causes him to laugh more, you're kinda surprised by yourself flirting with a random stranger but there is something about him that you just can't help it. The bartender finally makes their way over to you two, inquiring about your orders. Spidy orders an Old-fashioned while you order a Sbagliato, you can’t let him drink alone now, could you? 

Receiving your drinks you two sip and start chatting, common small talk, but both of you dance around the obvious question ‘What's your name’. Lost in the conversation you're just drinking the tall man in. Two things circle your mind as he talks; One you're really into the way his lips curl against the glasses rim and two his costume is really impressive now that you look at it closer. 

Spider-Man, New York's favorite hero, has become one of the most popular costumes. They ranged from kids' costumes to adults and even offered a sexy Lady Spider costume that you have seen a few times tonight. But this guy's costume was impressive. Not only did it look high quality, but it was like it was designed just for him to show off his assets. Was he completely jacked? No, but those strong arms and solid chest still had you blushing.

“I like your costume, Spider-Man he's a good one” This catches his attention and he looks towards you before responding. “You don’t think it's a bit…Overdone?” 

You chuckle “Maybe, But I'm dressed as a sexy kitty. I can't exactly judge someone on having an overdone costume.” This causes him to laugh sliding closer to you. “Plus, your costume is really impressive, looks professional quality.” reaching over lightly brush your fingertips across the web pattern.

“Well, I like your costume, I think you pull it off well, the ears are a nice touch” he turns to look at you and you can feel your face blush from the compliment. For a moment you feel his hand slightly graze your lower back, but it's only for a second before he moves away taking a long sip of his drink. Poor thing wants to flirt but doesn't want to seem like a creep. Giving him some reassurance to the flirting you squeeze his forearm feeling his muscle. 

“So, is the mysterious guy thing a technique of yours?”

He looks at you with a crooked smirk “What do you mean?” 

“You know, the whole masked man thing? Flirting with girls but never revealing who you really are, keeping us as strangers.” 

“Are you sure we are strangers?” he quickly interjects. oh? 

“Are we not?” you inquire with a smirk, something about him is familiar but you still can't place it.  

“Well, we have been talking for a while now, I think we have at least turned to acquaintances by now.” ah, that's what he means. “Well, I usually know my acquaintances' faces.” 

He leans in more, his mask still lifted showing off his grin “Well, what's the excitement in that?” 

-----

Now you're not exactly sure how you ended up in a dark booth but here you are still talking to your mystery man, he was right about the excitement, it made the flirting and slight touches just a little bit better.  

“I swear if my boss wasn't riding someone's ass he would die!” throw your head in your hands, somewhere in between small talk and flirting work was mentioned and you took the chance to vent. As you are ranting you feel a finger brush against your cheek then tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. You stop talking and feel all your breath escape you, his soft touch has your heart racing. 

Sliding closer to you he's whispering in your ear “You know kitty cat, it sounds like you need some stress relief…” -oh, word? 

“Is that so? And how are you going to relieve my stress?” I ask arching my back to lean in closer

Leaning in, he plays with a strain of your hair, he's so close to you know you feel his warm breath tickling your ear. The warmth radiating off him just causes you to shudder in excitement. “I figured I could fuck you so good you forget about your job…” 

The bluntness of his comment has your skin tingling with a sudden rush. With a shaky breath you respond, “T-that's big talk For s-someone who hasn’t even kissed me yet…” 

“Well then, let me kiss you,” he gently grabs your chin and brings you closer to his lips. Feeling the heat of your body rising to a fever you lean in with half-lidded eyes lips in a slight pout waiting for him to kiss your flushed face. Even though you can't see his eyes you can see the smile stretching to his lips and the blush starting to creep across what you can see of his face. 

“Please” is all you can whimper before he gently leads his lips to yours, the kiss is slow but intense. It made your body feel like you were on fire only to be cooled by his hands sliding up your thighs to then grip your hips bringing you closer. 

One of his hands plays with the hem of your skirt before slipping under to brush gently against your ruined panties, causing a quick gasp to escape your lips. Taking his opportunity he slips his tongue past your lips allowing him to taste you, while his finger pushes harder against your clothed folds pushing the ruined fabric further against your clit. 

Breaking away from the kiss you whine breathlessly as he continues to brush against your wet cunt. “We’re in public…” 

He just smirks as he slips his finger under your underwear running his long finger over your dripping slit, this causes a sudden moan to rip through you,  “shh, I know, your going to have to be quiet, there are other people around kid..” his honeyed voice teases as he continues to slowly push his finger in to curl into you. 

Shaking your head no you can't help but tighten and squirm as he touches you. Unable to contain yourself by letting out quiet moans as your wetness starts dripping down his fingers. Wanting to push you over the edge he starts rubbing tight circles at your clit with his thumb, which has your head being thrown back with a gasp. 

Ever the opportunist you're figuring out he kisses and licks your neck up to your ear. “Shh, We could go somewhere more private if you want?” 

Breathless trying to keep your cool you can only release a ‘mhmm’ before he's pulling his finger out of your weeping slit. Before you can complain you see him take his coated finger in his mouth, shutting you up. Surviving around he sees an empty-looking bathroom and nods his head towards it. Eyes completely blown, face fulling red you can only nod in agreement. 

Chuckling at your lustful expression he adjusts your cat ears on your head. Downing his drink he takes your hand and leads you out of the booth, he walks behind you and whispers in your ear, “I’m going to take such good care of you, such a good girl, you deserve to be taken care of” his soft phrases have you melting and eager to get him alone. 

 Before you can get to the bathroom, you quickly stop remembering something important, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. 

“I will meet you over there. I have to get something from my friend really quickly.”

He pulls you for a kiss and bites your bottom lip when he pulls away. “Hurry, I need to make you feel good.” 

Nodding quickly you run off to go find your friend. Looking like a mad woman you're scanning all over the club for your friends till you see a shoulder-shimming Jason and you quickly make your way over. 

“Mallory, I need to get something from you!”  you say desperately as she continues to dance.

“Nuh uh call me by my name please” she teases as he swings her hips around.

“Uhhg, Jason I need a condom” 

Mallory suddenly stops dancing and slowly turns to you. “Excuse me-“

“Just give me the fucking condom!” You say you are fully frustrated, you have a sexy man wanting to ravish you, you don't have time for any teasing, you're hot and horny and need to go!

Mallory looks at you confused before reaching into her wallet and giving you the contraceptive. Before you can rush off she grabs your arm. “Just know you wouldn’t survive a horror movie.” 

Giving a quick ‘Thank you’ you run off to Spider-Man.

———

Rushing back you see him leaning against the wall near the bathroom. As you approach he is quick to grab your hand and lead you in. As soon as you're through the door he's locking it and pressing burning kisses to your lips backing you up to the cold wall. Gasping at the feeling of his hands slowly rubbing all over your curves he makes you wetter. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles as he brings you away from the wall, bending you over on the sink's counter in front of the mirror. Quickly peeling away your shirt he kisses up your spine and massages your breast. You can't help but push your ass into his strained cock feeling him twitch as you rub against him. placing his hand on your jaw he lifts your head to face the mirror. Kissing along your neck, Confused you go to make a snarky remark “What am I ah-”

A moan rips through you as two fingers are slipped through your puffy folds into your slit stretching you open instantly. He can only chuckle and he moves his lips to your shoulder, kissing you as he sinks knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. Moans slip from your lips as the stretch he's causing you, and this is only his fingers.

 After a single moment for you to adjust to his fingers, he curls them into you looking into the mirror watching as your face contours in ecstasy. “Nuh uh, Kitty, keep those eyes open, look at how gorgeous you are….” 

Shooting your eyes open you see his mask eyes on you with his lips cooing sweet words while he pushes faster into you curling slow and deliberate. Mouth hanging open you start to push your hips into his hand more.

“Oh, that feels good huh kid? You work so hard, like a good girl…”

.

All you can do is nod as you approach your high, feeling yourself clench around him approaching your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, I do work hard…” you moan out watching him through the mirror. He smiles and hums pushing you down further spreading your legs out further, now hitting your sweet spot. You can't help how you're moaning, and he just smiles like your moans are music to his ears. 

“A good girl like you, I can tell you do, ride my fingers till you cum, you deserve it….” Being supported by the squelching sound of your wet cunt and his sweet phrase you start rocking yourself back and forth faster and faster, slamming his long fingers into your dripping wet cunt. Chasing your high the orgasm rips from you and you cream all over his digits. It drips down his fingers falling to the floor. 

“Cumming so pretty for me,” he coos and he takes your costume off, you're still coming down from your high so you lazily watch through lidded eyes as he strips your skirt and panties off. Then swiftly peels down his suit and pulls his cock out and it's already pebbling with pre cum. Pumping his cock he watches your aroused clit swell and your spend slit clench around nothing. While rolling on the condom he coos at you. 

“You want to cum again?”

Watching him pump himself you let out a whine of yes arching your back to entice him to put it in. Chuckling he gathers your arousal around his cock teasing you further. 

 “Please! I need it!” 

“Oh? You need it alright, going to make it where you won’t forget about this cock kitty cat. Now look forward, I want those pretty eyes watching me.” 

Sliding into you smoothly his cock stretches you deliciously making you moan as he pushes further, filling you up. Your hands splay out over the sink counter, it's pure bliss that makes your mind clear of all the bullshit you have had to endure till this moment. Forget him fucking you so good you forget your job you're forgetting everything. He slowly starts his positioning into you, you can feel him resisting the urge to slam into you from the tight grip on your hips.  

“Oh your such a good girl for me, taking me so well”

He thrust into you faster into your messily wet cunt, His increased pace making your second high come all too quickly. Looking up you see him biting his lip as your pussy tightens around him, feeling him leaning over you, feeling sloppy kisses and nipping at your shoulders and neck as he rails into you deeper. Feeling his tip kiss your spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Don’t cum yet kitty, I want to feel you clench down on me more” his heavy breathing fans over your ear before he's kissing your earlobe. 

All you can do is whine as he keeps throbbing and pushing you. The shooting pleasure has your knees buckling and your body shaking. Moaning from you and him bouncing off the wall you feel him grab a handful of your hair and bring your eyes to the mirror. 

“Taking me so good, so good… ”  He thrust harder, losing all the remaining restraint he once had. Looking forward in the mirror your face is flushed, hair completely ruined, biting your lip hard. The knot in your stomach feels like it's about to burst. 

“Ah, I need to cum!” 

“Ah, cum on me baby,” 

Feeling your pussy clench tighter on him, his words make your knot snap as his cock throbs within you. Vision blurring your orgasm washes over you dramatically causing you to scream out and you make a mess all over his cock. Helping you ride your orgasm he reaches his fingers to your cunt he plays with it sending you further over the edge. 

Finally, with your cunt fluttering over him, you feel his cock throb and spurt while inside you reaching his high. Panting, he holds himself up on the contour, arms keeping you caged underneath him. It's quiet for a moment before he gently pulls out of you. Rubbing your back he carefully leans you up supporting you as you finally stand straight, your legs feel like jelly. 

As you catch your breath, he seems to have recovered mostly. Helping you get cleaned up, fixing your hair, and handing you your costume. As you get dressed you feel like you should say something to him, ask his name, ask for his number maybe? You want to see him again. 

“So um…” As you start to speak up he sees your nervousness. Quickly getting his costume back on he leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, then to your neck, moving to your ear lightly nipping at it to make you laugh. 

“I will see you next weekend on Halloween, here, okay?”

“Okay” 

With that, he puts his mask down helps you readjust your costume and walks you out of the bathroom. Before he leaves he whispers to you,” I can’t wait to see you again kid.” Kid…He keeps calling you that, it's familiar…

when you turn around to look back at him he’s gone.

——-

Typing away you are trying to get all of the meetings with the chief organized, you also have to organize all his paperwork, take all his calls, Go in and scribe for all his meetings or whatever rants he is making that you want you to write down. Then order him lunch, get his dry cleaning sent and delivered, and make sure he has dinner reservations to whatever place he's craving that night. All this while he is yelling at you to bring him coffee or whatever else he needs from around the newsroom. Working for J. Jonah Jameson was rough, especially as his assistant. 

While you are trying to get your work done you also have Bea in your ear, she was a copy editor at the Daily Bugle, however today she was ignoring her work, and all she could talk about was…

“I can’t believe it! I’m still in shock! You had sex with some random guy at the club!” 

People around your desk look at you two with puzzled expressions. Lowering your head you grimace “Yeah, why don’t you say it a little louder I don’t think the marketing department heard you.” 

Lowering her voice she continues to say “I’m sorry Y/N, I just can’t believe you hooked up with a random stranger at a club, that's pretty spontaneous…and you didn't see his face at all?” 

“Well, not fully I saw his lips and the tip of his nose…” 

“Kinky…so when you see him again are you going to wear a mask too?” rolling your eyes you look at her unamused “Are you done?” She laughs and hugs you as you continue to type. “For now until I think of more jokes or come to ask for more details.” 

During the hug, Jameson calls for you. Bea lets go of you and starts heading back to her department giving you a sad wave as she goes. Quickly rising from your desk grabbing your notepad just in case you hurry to your boss's office to see what he wants. Pacing in his office he is yelling at someone over the phone, a common tone for him. Jameson darts his scowl towards you and snaps at you, you quickly get ready to write something down but he shakes his hand and mouths the word ‘Coffee’ pointing to his empty mug. Ah, of course, go fetch him coffee. 

Backing away from the doorframe you suddenly feel that you are pressed against someone. Quickly turning your head to apologize, your breath catches in your throat. Smiling down at you, you're met with a familiar set of brown eyes that always makes you feel giddy, Peter B Parker. Carefully he places a hand on your waist gently moving you through the doorway. 

“Sorry kid, I have to squeeze past you,” he keeps his smile on you as he slips past. Once inside he takes his seat in front of Jameson's desk waiting for him to finish his call.

 As you're walking out you can't help but look over your shoulder to steal a glance of Peter, but when you do you catch Peter doing the same to you. Shooting you another smile you feel your face warm and quickly go to make your boss's coffee. 

Making your way back to Jameson's office, coffee made just how he likes you see that Peter is showing him his latest photos of Spider-Man. Glancing at the photos you are reminded of how talented Peter is, definitely one of the best freelance photographers that works for the paper. 

Honestly looking at some of the pictures you have to question how he was getting such incredible shots, he would never reveal his secret though. Peter had been gone for a couple of months, a nasty divorce apparently which made you rather sad. Peter was one of the nicest guys at the paper, he always talked and joked with you, treating you like an actual person, not everyone is always so nice. 

Now he was back you were excited that the Bugle would have some quality pictures and you got to see more of Peter again. Being honest with yourself you have a bit of a thing for him. Kind, super smart, incredibly funny plus not bad to look at either, how could you not end up with a crush? Though when you two first met he was married so that meant off limits, then the divorce happened and he did not take it well. Now that he's finally back he seems okay, you notice that he talks to you more and you two share more stolen glances but that could just be wishful thinking on your part. 

“Y/N!” Suddenly snapped from your thoughts you see your boss and Peter staring at you. 

“Yes sir?”

 Jameson rolls his eyes “I said quit your daydreaming and hand me my coffee!” Nodding you quickly hand him his coffee and decide that it’s time you took a break. 

--------

Plopping down in the breakroom you lazily look down at your coffee sighing. If only your masked stranger was here to relieve your stress again. Mind wandering back to that night you feel your face heat from what he said to you, how he touched you, his lips…lips…reminiscing back you think of that smile and the conversations, he seemed familiar? Especially that smile…and what did he mean when he said we might not be strangers? 

Face contorted in thought you fail to notice that Peter has walked into the breakroom. Reaching the top shelf Peter pulls down a mug and pours himself some coffee looking over at you he must see you lost in thought, “Penny for your thoughts?”

His voice startles you for a moment breaking your trance, Peter looks at you expectantly waiting for you to speak, You couldn’t repress the words flying from your mouth as you stared at Peter, “Would you fuck a stranger?”

“Uh, I mean I think I could manage it for sure. But I would hardly call us strangers?” He says with a smirk. Huh? -Deja vu

You roll your eyes you brush off the words with a laugh “It’s not a proposition it was just a question” 

“That’s a pretty specific question?” 

“Well, this weekend I was at a party and I met this guy…and he was so funny and charming that we, you know…” 

“Had sex” Peter says frankly finishing your sentence for you. 

“Yeah had sex” 

“Well sounds like your not strangers” 

“That’s the thing though, he kept his mask on…” 

Peter gives a long whistle “y/n? You are a freaky little thing aren't you?” 

Something about how he says that makes your body rush with excitement, it feels…familiar…shaking the feeling away you continue. 

“Do you think that's weird though? Like I didn’t see his full face at all.” 

Peter smirks to himself as he pours sugar and cream into his coffee. As he sits down he stirs his coffee listening to you ramble, “Well, I think it's up to you. Did you like it?” 

“I mean yeah, but it's still weird…but like a good weird, you know? It's exciting.” As you look up you see him listening intently to you, his eyes bright and smile soft, it makes your heart skip for a moment. 

“I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about this, I'm sorry..”

“Doesn't bother me, I'm the one who asked '' He playfully nudges your arm and you can't help but giggle. “Are you going to see him again?” 

“Yeah, same place Halloween night…kinda nervous about it” 

“Why, I mean you two already had sex at the club?” 

“Yeah, wait…how did you know we had sex at the club?” you look towards him with furrowed brows. Peter looks surprised for a moment but quickly responds “I heard your friend talking about it.” -of course he did…

Sighing you put your head in your hands. Peter pats your back “It’s not that bad I don't think everyone knows…yet..”

With a pout you place your chin in your hand leaning on the table, “It's not that, it's the mystery guy.” 

“What, you don't want to see him again?” 

“I do, just…what if he doesn't want to see me again?” 

Looking down at your coffee you're kinda in shock that you're confessing all this to your office crush, who does that? But suddenly you feel a familiar gesture, a finger sliding across your cheek tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. Looking over to Peter you see that same smile, it's just like...You feel your face heat up. Peter's face looks equally flustered, quickly he moves his hand and grabs his coffee. Standing quickly he mutters how he has to go, before he's out the door he turns around, “he would be crazy not to want to see you again y/n” 

With that, he leaves you a blushing mess. 

--------

“I’ve seen several Spider-man, are you sure none of them are your guy?” Bea says, taking a sip of your drink and adjusting her large hat for her ‘sexy witch’ costume. 

“No, his costume is high quality like a professional,” you say with a slight lisp, feeling irritated that the fangs for your ‘sexy vampire’ costume are making you talk weirdly. You go to take them out but Mallory quickly stops you.

“Hey don’t take them out, it breaks the illusion!” you sigh and stare disheartened at your friend Mallory in her idea of a sexy costume ‘sexy Mothman’. 

Bea had begged us all to dress sexy this go round and you and Mallory begrudgingly agreed so Mallory helped you get your vampire costume and even decorated you up with some blood, while she did her twist to a sexy mothman. 

“Maybe he's not here? Running late?” Mallory questions

“The party is in full swing, maybe he's in the bathroom waiting for you,” Bea nudges playfully. 

Sudden realization hits you and you quickly chug your drink down. Bea and Mallory look at each other and then back to you once you're done. Finishing the drink you slam the glass on the contour, “I think I know where he is” 

At a hurried pace, you make your way from the bar in the back of the club to the back door where it all started. Nerves swirled around in your gut, you hoped he was here, you wanted to see him, feel him, talk to him. You didn't want this to be another one-night thing, you wanted to know who he was and you had an idea or well maybe it was just wishful thinking. Having a week to agonize about who he was you had a pricking thought of who you imagined him to be. 

Making it to the door that started it all, you take a deep breath, take out the fake fangs, and open the door carefully this time making sure it doesn't fly open to hit any unsuspecting Spider-Men. Making your way out the door you don't see anyone and it causes your heart to sink. He's not coming.  

Suddenly you feel a hand on your hip, while the other brushes your hair back to expose your neck. You are scared at first till you hear that same honeyed voice “Glad you learned to open doors carefully kitty.” 

Surrendering to his touch you let his lips caress your neck, “I'm not a cat anymore, I'm a vampire.” turning you see that half up spiderman mask with that same sly smirk, you wrap your arms around his neck “I see you're still Spider-Man” 

He laughs and backs you deeper into the alley pressing you against the wall “Well, I wanted you to be about to recognize me” 

His lips quickly find yours kissing you passionately. Feeling his hands on your ass he swiftly lifts you making, you instantly wrap your legs around him. Looking around you're a little surprised “Really? In the alley? You're kinda the expansionist huh?”

He quickly catches your lips in another searing kiss then you feel his hand eagerly pawing underneath your dress, and then he stops suddenly. “Oh, you're a dirty girl. No panties tonight?”  

“I figured they would get in the way,” you say with a playful shrug.

He quickly lifts your dress more and starts to finger your already wet cunt. Moaning and squeezing your legs tighter around him you give into the familiar stretch. 

“Already so wet for me, pretty girl you're just perfect for me.” 

Kissing on your neck he's already rutting into you, it seems like he's as eager as you are. Your soaked cunt was getting his suit's crouch wet as he continued to rub into you, maybe it was him or the fact that you two could easily get caught by a wandering pedestrian, but you were burning with need. 

“Please...I need you…” you beg breathlessly

He kisses your lips quickly putting his suit pants down. Looking at him confused he just smiles, “What? I made adjustments for easy access, just for you kid.” 

Finally freeing his cock he has you hold on tightly to him as he swiftly rolls a condom on. Safe sex is hot sex, right? While sucking and kissing your neck to your collarbones he rubs his cock in between your folds making sure you're wet and shaking with need. 

“Come on spidy, I need you…”

With the last bit of begging leaving your trembling lips, he pushes in between your folds into your soaked heat with a loud groan. Thrusting in and out of you you can't help but moan and clench down on his length.  

“Ah, y/n…you feel so good…” 

As soon as your name slips from his lips he stops his thrusting and stills. Looking down with wide eyes your mouth is agape, “did…Did you just say my name?” 

Hesitating for a moment he tries to find the words but suddenly he's met with your lips crashing down to his eagerly devouring him. With the passionate kiss, he fucks into you faster than before breaking the kiss and grabbing your ass hard to thrust into you harder. Getting all your breath thrust out, you can hardly speak as you approach your high.  

“So you know, ah, my name?” 

He nods breathlessly continuing his rutting, cock throbbing. “Yeah, your costume, doesn’t hide your identity, Fuck!” 

Throwing your head back from the feeling of how deep he is, your moaning and confessing your own secrets as he fucks your roughly. Your Orgasm is about to rip through you, stars blur your vision. 

“I know who, ah…who you are” 

Kissing along your neck he faces you and whispers to your lips, “Yeah? Say my name then..” 

Feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap it's now or never. Holding onto him tightly he's pushing his tip right into your sweet spot, bringing your moaning lips to his ear and whispering the name you're hoping to be him. 

“Peter, Peter B Parker '' While you say his name you grab the rest of his mask and reveal the rest of his face, you are met with those heart-melting brown eyes. And that sexy smirk. There he was in all his glory, your mystery man- Peter B 

“Well you're quite the little detective, you should get a reward kid…”  You smirk and give him a kiss rocking your hips into him as he thrust harder. Breaking the kiss you moan, “Just make me cum Peter!”

“Anything you want, pretty girl,” Rutting deeper and grunting heavily in your ear, your knot is snapped and you're creaming all over Peter's cock. Fucking you through your high he finally cums from your tight cunt clenching around him trying to milk him dry. 

Carefully he stands back up both of you staring and panting at each other. Peter quickly pulls your dress back down, then tucks his length away. His hands cup your face and he litters your face and neck with kisses, seems happy you figured his secret out. 

“Have any more secrets for me, Peter?” You say smugly holding up his mask. 

Peter smiles at you and takes the mask from you. Grabbing a hold of your hips once more he pulls you close to press against his chest. “I could tell you, or I could show you?” 

-This should be good…

[lightsofthe-living-gvf]

Si Vis (if You Want to)

18+ Minors DNI

Danny Wagner/Sam Kiszka

Summary: Fueled by racing adrenaline and alcohol, Sam and Danny find themselves in one of their dressing rooms post-performance, blurring the line between friendship and something more.

Warnings: smut, porn with plot, friends to lovers (eventually), swearing, some banter, light mentions of alcohol and drinking, tipsy sex, kissing, handjobs.

Little disclaimer: this is purely fiction and is in no way making speculations about the guys and/or their relationships.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Hello, everyone! This has been in the works for a while, now, and I am so excited to finally share it. It will be a sporadically updated series, at least until my work schedule slows down a bit. I know that Sam/Danny isn't everyone's cup of tea, so if you don't like it, scroll on!

Danny could still hear the crowd as he made his way through the maze of hallways that would lead him to the greenroom, so loud and unwavering in their applause and exclamations of praise. He would always be absolutely floored by how the audience roared for him and his bandmates, and the number of shows Greta Van Fleet played nor the ever-increasing size of the venues at which they performed would never change that. Sometimes, he would pop out his in-ear monitors at the end of a song (Highway Tune, normally, right after his drum solo) to listen, just long enough for his hearing to go fuzzy from the sheer volume that echoed throughout the arena.

He felt as if he were up in the air, his head buzzing either from the adrenaline rush that came with playing such a fanatical show or the shots and other alcoholic beverages that had been passed around their set. He couldn't pinpoint which, but he figured it was a generous mix of both. He was replaying moments from the show in his head: Jake's guitar being so crackly and thunderous that it shook his cymbals, the swells of flame so close to his body he could reach out with a drumstick in hand and singe the tip of it, and Josh's joy while singing Light My Love, so infectious that he just had to crack a smile, and sing along with his entire chest. He was still so caught up in it all that he hadn't really registered the sound of his name being called or who it was being called by, not until the source of the voice was right beside him.

"Did you lose your hearing or something? Slow your ass down for a second."

Sam.

"Oh, hey, sorry," Danny said, slowing his pace a few steps and allowing Sam to catch up to him without having to speed-walk. "What's up? You sounded really good, tonight, by the way."

"So did you." He nudged playfully at Danny's side, then looped and arm through one of his, so that they were walking with linked elbows. They were then close enough that Danny could smell the alcohol on his breath, and he could see the flush across the bridge of his nose and all over his cheeks. Sam continued, "I have some more shots in my dressing room. You down?"

Danny pondered the offer. Or, pretended to, anyway. He never could find a reason to say ‘no’ to Sam. Even in this situation, where he most likely had more than just a few shots hiding away in his dressing room and that meant that he and Danny were going to wake up with a hangover the next morning. However, it wasn’t as if they couldn’t handle a hangover.

So, without much thought, he agreed, "Yeah, sure, Sam."

"I knew you would be." Sam grinned. He pulled his elbow from Danny's, his fingers just barely trailing down his friend’s forearm as he reached for his wrist instead. He always got a bit more touchy-feely when he had something to drink, but it had never really bothered Danny. He was well used to the Kiszkas’ love language.

When they stepped inside his dressing room, Sam went right into the mini fridge and pulled out some shots and a few bottles of beer, too. Just as Danny had assumed he would. He then straightened back up, grabbed a shot without looking at the label, unscrewed the cap, and threw it back.

"Heads up," Sam said suddenly, giving Danny only a few seconds to whip his head in that direction and get eyes on whatever was flying in his way. Sam had tossed him a shot and luckily, the small bottle was made of plastic, because Danny was too slow to catch it. It bounced off his chest and right onto the carpet beneath his feet.

Sam laughed as Danny bent over to pick it up, "Nice catch, dude."

Danny tried to raise his eyebrows all unamused-like, but he couldn't help but to chuckle a little as he spoke, "That was a bad throw."

He took the shot, scrunching his nose until the burn went away.

"Hey, watch this," Sam said. He grabbed a beer bottle, positioned its top against the edge of the vanity counter, and in one swift movement, slammed his palm into the bottle cap and popped it off. The beverage bubbled over the rim of the glass and onto the floor, but Sam didn't really care. He showed the bottle—now without a cap—off to Danny with a goofy smile on his face.

"Cool, Sam," Danny praised lightly, as if Sam hadn't been proudly performing that trick since they were old enough to go to parties, and even before that. "Do one for me?"

Sam happily obliged, opening a bottle in the same fashion and then handing it over to him. Danny took a swig, his curls just barely sweeping over his bare, freckled shoulders in a way that had Sam's eyes lingering for just a moment longer than what would be traditionally considered platonic. Honestly, Sam had abandoned ‘platonic’ ideals in regard to he and Danny’s relationship long ago, even if he hadn’t outwardly expressed that. He just didn’t feel the need to ignore the beauty his friend so obviously exuded, both physically and as a person, too.

Briefly, the picture of how Danny had been when they first started touring crossed Sam’s mind. He’d been so lanky, still not having grown into his height. And his hair- Sam could laugh out loud at how he and Danny had done their hair, back then. Regardless of his slightly dorky appearance, however, Danny—at his core—was the same person now as he was when they were just graduating high school. Gentle, considerate, and as sweet as can be. Just with a little more self-confidence backing it all up. Despite the lack of mental qualms Sam had about admiring the physical features of his best friend, his cheeks still flushed when he realized he’d been thinking about all of that while looking entirely into Danny’s direction. And they perhaps got even redder when he saw that Danny was, in fact, looking right back at him with a slightly confused expression that countered the face Sam was pulling, which was a moderate display of heart-eyes. Sam wondered if the fact that he’d been nursing boozy drinks since well before their acoustic set would be a good excuse for the little moment that he had just created between himself and his best friend.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, there was a swift banging on the dressing room door and a subsequent shout, “20 minutes ‘till go-time!”

Instead of apologizing or making it any more awkward, Sam decided to deplore, “Only 20 minutes?”

Danny shrugged. “The venue probably just wants us out of here so they can clean up. I’m gonna go change.” He turned to grab the door handle, but Sam’s hand settled on his forearm, stopping Danny’s movement. He turned back with a raised brow, “What’s up?”

Sam stared at Danny for a moment, letting his own thoughts reel. Why the hell did he do that? What was he going to say?Sam genuinely had no idea, because the only reason he’d really stopped Danny from leaving was to satisfy the impulsive urge to kiss him dizzy. It had been tugging at Sam all night, flaring up and searing like bright blue flame whenever Danny- well, whenever Danny did basically anything. So much for never outwardly expressing his non-platonic feelings.

After a few stretched-out seconds, Danny gave Sam a look, his brows tipped slightly in concern. “What’s the matter, Sam?” he asked in a tone so tender and caring that Sam truly believed he could weep if he wasn’t trying to keep it together.

“Nothing’s the matter,” Sam assured him quickly. And maybe it was all the alcohol catching up to his brain or even just plain desire rendering his self-control entirely useless, but he added, “I just have to ask you something.”

“What?”

Fuck! Why did he say that?? Suddenly so nervous he could hear his own heartbeat and immensely regretting opening his mouth in the first place, Sam faltered, “Well uh… It’s kinda hard to word.”             Danny chuckled a little. “Just tell me, Sammy.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Sam gave a short sigh before continuing hesitantly, “Do you ever think about me in like- a different way? Or, you know… us? In a different way?”

Sam had hoped his vaguely-worded question would be enough for Danny to understand what he was trying to say, but he just tilted his head in a painfully oblivious manner. “What do you mean? Different how?

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Sam, huffed.  

“Well, what—”

Sam—now acting only on his unmanageable desire and nothing else—cut Danny off by crowding him back against the wall next to the door with firm hands on those pronounced hipbones of his. The skin beneath his fingers felt like heaven, and the warmth of their closeness perhaps even more so. And before Danny could say anything else or even make a noise of surprise, Sam kissed him.

Danny’s mind went totally blank. His limbs stiffened in sheer shock from the move that Sam had just pulled, and the only thing he could register was the faint taste of beer on his best friend’s lips. But before he could even relax himself and try to chase that taste, Sam broke away from him.

Danny blinked at Sam, his lips parted dumbly. Sam had just kissed him. Right on the mouth. No hesitation, no bashfulness, and certainly no flirty smile or batting eyelashes. Danny was rendered totally speechless as the reality of it all sank in, in the same way a cannonball would sink to the ocean floor after being fired: slowly.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Sam’s voice, as small as it had been all night, broke through to Danny and for a few seconds, they just looked at each other. Sam, waiting with bated breath and Danny, still unable to find his voice. It was just a moment too long for Sam because he shamefully turned his head and took a step back from Danny, his hands falling from his hips as if the skin was burning his fingertips.

“Sam,” Danny breathed, tugging him back with a hand on his wrist and connecting their lips once more. And this time, Danny reveled completely in Sam’s kiss. His best friend kissed like he spoke, vivaciously and free from most inhibitions. His lips were as soft and as plush as they had always looked to be, and Danny felt the sudden—but not unwelcome—urge to kiss them red and swollen.

 Sam weaved a hand into Danny’s hair, his fingers trembling ever so slighting. And despite the anxiety—albeit rapidly fading anxiety—still gnawing at his stomach, Sam deepened the kiss with a gentle tolt of his head. To his delight, Danny went right along with him, bringing his hands to rest on Sam’s waist and pulling him close to his chest with a little tug.

While Danny was a little surprised by the way Sam had just outright kissed him, he certainly wasn’t upset about it. Afterall, Sam always acted on whatever was in his heart without so much as a question, and Danny knew that. He trusted in that, and he trusted in that indescribable and indestructible bond of theirs, because… why wouldn’t he? Sam was his closest friend and musical counterpart. It was all very black and white; Danny adored him.

Danny also knew that the very way he was entangled with Sam could change the dynamic of their friendship for as long as it would stand—if it could even be called a friendship, afterwards—but he couldn’t- he wouldn’t bring himself to even entertain the thoughts of the consequences, especially not when it felt so good and so right to hold Sam as close as he was.

And all of the thoughts tripping around Danny’s head came to a stuttering halt when Sam broke away and began pressing delicate, yet meaningful kisses along his jawline and down the column of his throat. So, Danny did what anyone else would do and tilted his head to bask in the treatment. Each warm touch of Sam’s lips to his skin sent delightful little tingles down his spine, and he wouldn’t ignore that just for the sake of overthinking.

Danny hummed and it was only a low, hardly audible sound produced from the bottom of his throat, but it was just enough to encourage Sam to sink his teeth into the skin beneath his lips. He found himself needing more of those noises, and he received more in the form of a pretty, choked gasp. Danny wondered fleetingly about how he was going to explain he mark to his make-up artist, but when Sam soothed over the reddened spot with his tongue and a few more light kisses, the thought was quickly replaced by the strong desire to feel his lips and hands all over his body.

Danny started grappling lower, pointedly digging his fingers into the soft flesh of Sam’s ass. And upon hearing Sam’s grunt, followed by the subtle movement of his hips pitching forward, something so warm and so electric stirred in Danny’s belly, leaving him fighting to keep his composure. In that moment, Danny wanted to do anything and everything with Sam, but he couldn’t be sure how far Sam wanted to take this, if he wanted to take it any further at all. So, instead of making any more moves, Danny zeroed in on the sensation of Sam lavishing his skin with kisses and nips, occasionally giving his bottom a light squeeze.

“Fuck- Sam,” Danny inhaled sharply as Sam scraped his teeth over the protruding point of his collarbone. It stung, but in a way that had his cock twitching helplessly in his pants. He used his hold on Sam to yank him impossibly closer, the friction of it all causing him to let out a short, low whimper.

Sam warmed the spot with a lap of his tongue, then came off and murmured, “Was that too much, Daniel?”

If Danny hadn’t looked down and seen the daring smirk on Sam’s face, he would have almost thought he was genuinely worried that he had been a little too rough. But, no- the words were a tease, and Danny had to play along. In fact, he had never felt more compelled to do anything in his entire life.

So, Danny huffed with feigned sass, “It wasn’t enough, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam pulled away, gazing at him with a cocked brow. “Is that why you’re already a little hard?”  

Instead of answering, Danny took Sam’s lips once more. Almost instantly, Sam was poking his tongue out from behind his lips, prodding at Danny’s own. Danny opened up for him gladly, and as soon as he did, he was delighted by the taste of sugary beer coating his tongue.

At that point, Sam was acting on instinct, and instinct alone. His languid movements and banter were all products of his unrelenting desire; there was no critical thought behind them at all. He would rather have it that way, anyway.

He certainly wasn’t thinking about the consequences of his actions when he pulled away from the kiss and breathed, “I know we don’t have a lot of time, but do you wanna do this?”

“We’ll just have to make it quick,” Danny urged, catching Sam’s eyes with an unexpectedly desperate expression. “I want this. I want you, Sam.”

Without another word from either of them, Sam brought his fingers down to the button on Danny’s pants and in one swift motion, popped it open. He pulled the zipper down and the moment he was able, gently freed Danny’s cock from his boxers, and holy shit- if Danny didn’t have the prettiest cock that Sam had ever seen. Sam was—by no means—ignorant to the attractiveness of other men, but he had never really seen anything like this. Even only half-hard, Danny’s cock was still modestly long and perfectly rounded and a soft pink color. Sam had to stop himself from muttering some sort of expletive.

Danny watched him with his teeth sunk into his swollen bottom lip, a sharp stab of need shooting through the walls of his weakening resolve. It was so electric, the way Danny found himself longing for Sam with his entire chest. And when Sam spit wetly into his palm and gave his first real touch—a tentative stroke downwards—to Danny’s cock, all of those cracked walks crumbled and he let out a soft, pleasured moan.

“Tell me how you like it, Danny,” Sam commanded gently.

Danny managed to choke out a question in return, “How would you do it for yourself?”

“Um… Fast? Firm?”

Danny huffed a laugh at that. “Don’t say firm. But do that,” then he politely added, “please.”

With that, Sam wasted no time building up a steady rhythm, pleasantly firm and hurried with the hopes of getting Danny to the edge before management came banging on the dressing room door again. Danny tossed back his head and drew a shaky breath. There was some rational part of him, way in the back of his mind, that still couldn’t quite process that he and Sam were doing this, but he shut his eyes, anyway, and focused on the perfectly thrilling feeling of Sam’s nimble fingers wrapped around his length.

Sam allowed his free hand to run fervently down Danny’s side, mapping out the skin he’d always snuck glances at, yet never had the explicit privilege of touching in the way he’d really wanted to. He smoothed that hand along Danny’s ass, next, then over the dimples on he small of his back, before bringing it back upwards to press against the plan of muscles between his shoulder blades. He wanted to explore and appreciate all that he could while he had the opportunity to do so.

He then slowed the movement of his working hand, thumbing right at the head of Danny’s cock until he saw a dribble of pre-cum appear from the slit. Danny couldn’t stop the broken whine that peeled from his throat as Sam continued on with his movements, faster and just a little slicker than before.

Sam hummed with delight at the noise. “How’s that? Is it good?”

“So good,” Danny returned breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”

Sam murmured, “Not really planning on it.”

As he worked, Sam watched Danny; the way his eyebrows furrowed when he did something that must have felt particularly good, and how he bit his lip to desperately keep from making a sound too loud for the small confines of the dressing room. And the more he watched Danny dissolve into boneless bliss, the less he could bear the ache of his own cock straining against his pants. So, with his free hand, he hastily undid his own button and zipper, then pulled himself out.

Danny blinked sluggishly at the loss of Sam’s hand roaming his body, and realized he’d been so caught up in his own pleasure, that he hadn’t been paying any mind to Sam’s. He was then quick to spit into his own palm and bring it to Sam’s cock, moving his hand out of the way and giving him a soft, apologetic look. Sam made a low noise and pushed his hips needily into Danny’s fist.

Sam and Danny worked themselves into a hasty, harmonious rhythm, not unlike the one they were able to form when up on stage, playing for a crowd of thousands. They had always been so in-tune with each other; it was just something that came with the bond they shared so fiercely. It was a trust rooted deep in their hearts, formed not only by years of making music and performing with each other, but by laughing together, bickering with each other, and everything in between.

And when Danny’s orgasm began to approach, it wasn’t the way his chest started heaving or how he was no longer able to choke down his noises that told Sam he was getting there, though those were all good hints. No, it was a knowing feeling that came from deep inside his stomach, showing itself with a shimmering intensity that he didn’t exactly need to look into at the moment. He tore his eyes away from where they had inadvertently begun to gaze at their hands and instead cast his glance upwards with a burning need to see Danny’s face- to see if it was anything like those sinful looks that he pulled on stage.  

To Sam’s entirely depraved joy, the expressions were deliciously similar. Danny’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes hooded and glossy, and his lips—so pink and pretty—were parted. And his tongue was even darting out from between them sporadically, as if he didn’t quite realize he was doing it. He looked so debauched and divine that it made Sam’s stomach flutter with desire, and his cock leak pearly drops of pre-cum.

“Sam—” Danny choked.

But Sam already knew what he was going to say, and cut him off, “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Danny nodded fiercely.

“That was pretty quick,” Sam teased lightly, as if he wasn’t nearing his own peak and just as desperate to come undone as he assumed Danny was.

“Shut up,” Danny retorted, jerking his hips along with the rhythm of Sam’s hand. Sam was right: he was achingly close, and he had gotten there fast, too. He wished he could blame it on all the alcohol and the adrenaline that came from playing a show, then immediately doing something like this. But he couldn’t. Really, Danny knew the only reason he was approaching the edge so rapidly was because it was Sam who was dragging him there.

And eager to reciprocate the ecstasy Sam was working him towards, Danny doubled down in the pumping of his fist over Sam’s cock. In response, Sam let out a breathy moan and bit his lip, his head dropping lazily forward onto Danny’s shoulder. His fingers—though calloused from years of drumming and playing guitar—felt so amazing that Sam couldn’t help but to buck his hips, too, fucking himself into his friend’s willing fist.

“You’re so hard, Sammy,” Danny whispered breathlessly, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was the one causing it.

Sam whimpered in response, “Uh-huh.”

He was almost at a loss for words, which wasn’t something that happened very often. Sam knew he could ramble on forever if he was allowed to. But now, with Danny’s pace picking up and with the fingers of his free hand curling around his ass, he found that he only words he could say were broken phrases and mindless curses.

Soon enough, however, Sam began to pull out all of the stops, yearning to watch Danny lose himself to the pleasure they had created. He hastened the movements of his hand just a tick, while simultaneously dragging his thumb over the head of Danny’s cock and following the prominent vein down with every stroke. He was so hard and hot and slick beneath Sam’s fingers, that he found it to be intoxicating. In fact, it had him periodically biting at his already-red lips.

“Shit,” Danny gasped. “I’m almost there.”

Danny’s hand then snaked around Sam’s shoulder to hold the back of his head. He pulled him forward and connected their lips amorously, delighting in the sweet, muffled noise Sam made. It caused Sam to falter in his movements. He just couldn’t help it, not when he couldn’t ever recall a time when he’d ever been kissed like that. Danny’s kisses were so fervent, it was as if he were trying to draw all the breath from his lungs and replace it with stardust.

Sam was losing himself to the feeling, at least until Danny interrupted their kiss with an impatient whine against his lips. He hastily refocused his attention to the task at hand, rubbing his hip and breaking away to kiss at his jaw in apology. Despite being truly sorry for slowing down right as Danny was nearing his peak, he did feel a little rush of satisfaction at the way he had lost his composure.

And without much more than a hitching moan as a warning, Danny came into Sam’s hand. Sam’s cheeks went red-hot as he eagerly worked Danny through it. He watched his expression transform from a scrunch into something all pleasured and fucked-out, and that was enough to nearly make up for Danny having let go of Sam’s cock in the midst of it all and instead clawing at his wrist and hip.

But still, it wasn’t enough to get Sam any closer to the edge, so he took hold of his own cock—so hard it nearly hurt and so slippery with—and began pumping himself with a relit desperation to finish himself off before their bus had to leave. He groaned into the thick, open air, and that’s when Danny regained his senses and swatted Sam’s hand away.

“Let me do it,” he murmured, and began stroking Sam’s cock with a rapid fervor. Tilting his head downwards and guiding Sam to tilt his, he started pressing kisses and nips to the hollow of his throat, tangling his hand in his hair to keep him still as he continued his onslaught.

“Danny,” Sam’s moaned unexpectedly high in his throat.

“Close?”

When Sam nodded vigorously, Danny worked his wrist in a twisting motion, watching at the slit of his cock wept and thoroughly enjoying his responding whine. Sam bucked his hips, wordlessly urging Danny to go faster and accompanying the silent plea with a gasp. Danny complied, flicking his wrist hastily until—

“I- Ah- I’m coming- fuck!”

Sam shot directly into Dany’s palm, and maybe it was because his head was still a little floaty, but in that moment, he could swear it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen Sam. And while Sam was still panting from the force of his orgasm, Danny surged forward and captured his lips in a bruising kiss. And Sam let Danny kiss him hard, until they had to break away from one another for air.

“Well,” Sam was the first to speak after a moment of only shallow breaths. “That was hot as hell. I’m gonna get us something to clean up with. Not that it’ll do much.” He punctuated his statement with a short, boyish laugh as he looked down at their hands and freshly ruined stage pants.

“Right,” Danny nodded, leaning his head back against the wall. Coming out of his warm, post-orgasm haze, he could feel the coolness of the drywall against his skin and the ache in his shoulder blades caused by pressing against it for so long. He stayed like that, though, until Sam came back with some tissues.

Sam and Danny made themselves decent in a silence laced with a little bit of tension, cleaning themselves up and straightening their clothes and running their hands through their hair until it laid as flat as it could. Sam glanced over to Danny, and his heart panicked and sank to his stomach as he watched him wipe mascara smears from the corners of his eyes. What was Danny going to think of him—of them—nowthat they had tipsily stumbled across an unexplored line? In the morning, when they were nursing slight headaches and dry mouths, would Danny hate Sam for what they had done? Would Sam hate Danny?

But then, Danny caught his eye and gave him a little smile, and Sam felt himself relax. They couldn’t ever hate each other, could they? There was no room for hate in the relationship they’d spent so much of their lives strengthening and relying upon.

Banging sounded throughout the room, and this time it was followed by Josh shouting from the other side of the door, “What in the hell are you guys doing in there? We have to go?”

Sam then braced himself for the door to open and for Josh to just come barging in, but it didn’t happen. He almost cried in relief. Danny turned to open the door, but before he could reach it, Sam stopped him.

“Wait- how are we gonna explain our fucking clothes?”

Danny looked down at his clothes, then looked back up at Sam. “Uh- we can… tell them we spilled some beer?”

Sam narrowed his eyes and contemplated the suggestion, before deciding that it was truly their best option.

“Okay. But be cool, alright?” he said. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper, his tone erring on the side of desperation. “We can’t let them know about this.”

Danny nodded, biting back some sort of bitter emotion with a swallow, and agreeing, “I’m always cool, Sammy. It’ll be fine.”

Sam then allowed him to open the door, internally praising Danny for being the one to explain and subsequently take the brunt of all the nagging, from his older brother or otherwise.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Back on this account: Prefacing this that this work was wrote in like a day and like most of my things- i was too lazy to edit lol. The concept form todays work was injected into my brain by good old @auspicioustidings, check em out- they got some cool concepts and fics. (Particularly Firewatch- chefs kiss to that series), lots of soft, dark, kidnap-y, COD content 👍

Without further ado i present my impulsive thoughts on a page:

——————

“Committed to the Bit.”

words: 4.7k

Summary: You’re at an utterly boring halloween party, about to leave when some scottish man dressed as a solider comes slinking into the bathroom and really goes ham with his whole ‘This place is dangerous, you aren’t supposed to be here- we gotta get you to safety’ act. Weird pick-up line approach but hey it fucking works. He’s just charming enough for you to play along with his bit. Because it is just a bit… right?

This party was kinda dull. Which really was a shame considering how high your expectations were. From what your friend said- it was supposed to be an immersive experience. The hosts were apparently old collage buddies with your friend who were halloween fanatics.

You friend has absolutely hyped them up, talking all about how when they threw parties they got into them and would always play up whatever dynamic they were going for with their costumes. Even to a level of mild public humiliation.

She once recounted the story of how one year, when dressed as a pair of vampires, they full on acted as though they were melting when someone brought a side of garlic breadsticks with the pizza. Fully committed to the bit it seems.

Because of the hosts being so dedicated to their act, of course it wasn’t uncommon for guests to act in a similar manner. Even those who didn’t have a running gag for the night were overall relaxed and had a good time being apart of the fun. It was a non-judgmental zone, filled with pretty decor and open people.

So of course, after hearing all about the welcoming and fucking amazing vibes of these parties- you had agreed to meet up with your friend at one.

Normally, you weren’t really one for parties, especially halloween ones because it was typically full of judgey, horny, strangers who would consider you weird- and you’d have to small talk and the songs almost always sucked because of course they couldn’t play actual halloween songs even if it killed them.

But after many reassurances from your friend, including videos and photos she had graciously provided you- you went to one.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

The costumes were amazing- high quality and expensive, hell the place was fucking stunning, all decked out in halloween gear and dark lighting. Even the building itself seemed perfect for this sort of thing- winding corridors, random locked rooms, ominous men in suits. Oh and don’t get you started on the snack table, shit was heavenly even if you were the only one touching it. The aesthetics of the party were great, But…

The vibes were way off. There was no rambunctious fun laughter and people grooving on the dance floor. Everyone seemed oddly reserved. Committed to their bits for sure, but well… there wasn’t much ah, variety to everyone’s act.

They all shared a similar vibe of like- domineering power. Which was definitely pretty fucking hot when it came to some people, (looking at you fancy vanpire lady), but it got boring after a while.

Safe to say your attempts at socializing were pretty shot. And what’s even worse, your friend? Yeah she didn’t even show up.

Tragic truly. You would call her to see if she made it here yet, but your phone was dead- and talking to any of the other party goers was a song and dance you didn’t wanna attempt again.

So here you are, in the bathroom, sitting by one of the sinks and charging your phone.

How lame.

You sigh, standing up to check yourself out in the mirror. At least your costume is fun, it’s a reference that only really you and you friend would get, but still, it made you happy to wear. It was a royal outfit, you looked like nobility, nice and fancy. Perhaps a barron, or maybe a princess, or a king- really it was up for anyone's interpretation. You fix up the head accessory, then fuss with your hair just to have something to do.

Maybe you should just leave, you were getting pretty bored of everything.

And it’s at that moment, as you’re sinking down to the bathroom floor to grab your charger that the most interesting thing of tonight bursts through the door.

You look at him, blinking once then twice. He does the same.

Eye candy.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind. Without an ounce of shame you let your eyes rack over his form, fitted in some sort of military outfit, tactical gear and even a prop gun. He makes it look damn good.

And then you stop admiring the hunk of prime meat in front of you because starring is rude. (Even if he is fucking amazingly charmingly rugged and god damn what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that mohawk of his and just tug-)

“That’s a good fucking costume.”

He pauses, looking at you with something confused and a bit bemused. And like an idiot you just can’t keep your mouth shut and blurt out more shit.

“Did ya have to bust through the door though? I mean like- don’t get me wrong it was cool as shit- really adds to the character here, big, hot, ah… military? guy.”

You wince, you’re making a fool of yourself. Luckily the man doesn't seem to mind.

(Johnny takes one look at you, your bag in a sink, your phone charging in the bathroom outlet, your clearly partly homemade costume that shows way more care than any of the other people in this joint and easily figures out-)

“L.T, Found a civvie.”

He mumbles into a- oh shit he’s got an earpiece and everything. Now that is cool. You tell him as such.

“Okay that is so fucking cool. Dude does that thing actually work? Man. How long did it even take for you to get this whole costume?”

He studies you with an odd look for a moment. You wonder if there’s actually anyone talking to him in that earpiece. Must be with the way he pauses. Slowly, he speaks; gentle.

“Not a costume lass. We ought to get you outta here, it's gonna be a shitshow soon.”

You blink. And then, you smile.

“Rightttt, not a costume. I getcha.”

“Not joking bonnie. This place is dangerous, filled with snakes. How did a wee thing like you even get in here?”

You smile, a bit pleased to banter with the first person who isn't doing the same old same old, ‘i know more than you, ooo im so big and powerful and scary’ act.

“Took a carriage ride and promised my roommate I'd be back by midnight.”

He eyes your royal esc outfit, not cinderella by any means but it still makes him smile slightly. (And boy if that isn't a sight, him looking you up and down and looking at you like that?)

“Cute. Then allow me to be yer escort princess.” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom door.

The statement is said with just enough sarcasm to make you bite down a grin. Hes very committed to this whole military operation act. And honestly? You were ready to leave anyway. Not to mention this guy was the only one who’d gotten your interest all night.

You grab your things and stuff them in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder tightly.

“Follow me, and ye gotta be quiet. Cant let anyone see us.”

You are more than willing to go along with his silly bit. And so you give him a clumsy salute, with a good natured smile.

“You got it captain.”

“Sergeant.”

He corrects you with an amused little puff of air. Clearly- hes just as pleased to have someone indulge him as you are to have someone interesting to talk to.

“You got it sergeant.” You repeat back with a graceful little half bow and amused smirk.

He turns back to the door, hands on his gun and before you go out you grab onto his arm.

“Wait!”

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, eyes sharp, focused: wow hes a really good actor and hes got really pretty fucking eyes-

“Lassie?”

Oh yeah you can't get lost in his eyes just yet.

“Can I have a gun? For safety and all that- totally.”

“Hen… i don't think-”

“please sergeant? I promise I won't break it or anything! I just wanna get more into character ya know? pretty please Sir…?

…

(Johnny is not a good man. And fuck when he hears you call him by his rank, sir, asking so sweetly- your hands clasped in front of you- looking at him with a sheepish grin and pleading eyes. He wants to give you a damn bazooka if it means you keep talking sweet to him. Ghost is in his ear, telling him he better not bloody dare.)

(So of course…)

“You keep that safety on boonie. Hold it like this. If you gotta use it, don't be shooting or you’ll blow yer eye out. You toss the bloody thing in the direction of whatever it is you’re tryna hit- or you hand it to me. Is that clear?”

You nod vehemently, assuring him with little, yep’s and sure’s, and got it-’s. He raises a brow, mostly cause hes not sure if you’re actually taking this seriously. You take it for something else entirely though and then quickly say-

“Yes sir. Understood.”

(...Johnny is both damn disappointed hes on a mission, and greatful as fuck, because the only thing he wants to do is push you up against that wall, sneak his hands down your silly little costume and tease you until you’re a squirming mess. Asking you if you understand how hard hes gonna fuck you and hear your breath hitch as you answer back with a wanton “Yes sir”—)

“Sergeant…?”

You stare at the fellow and his intense gaze, wondering if you took it too far. Hes committed to his bit sure, but you didn't mean to overstep and make him feel like he had to give you a gun. Clearly they were expensive props, detailed and metallic and heavy.

Instead of speaking to you, he speaks to his earpiece, “just a precaution L.T, what if her majesty gets cornered? Little lass don't have a lick of combat training.”

You -far to ready to add to this stupid little bit- chime in,

“Yeah, they only teach you fencing and the waltz where i'm from.”

Johnny grins, “Com'on L.T”

(As much as Ghost hates to admit it- Johnny is right. And so be begrudgingly relents. It seems everyone is amused by how utterly oblivious you are because Gaz spares a laugh and a cheeky comment after Ghost's gruff voice.)

“Soooo… what's the verdict Sergeant? Did your uh… LT? That's lieutenant right-? Does he approve?”

In response, Soap carefully positions a gun in your hand, telling you with an edge to keep your fingers away from the trigger. (Safety is on of course, Johnnys not an idiot all the time.) You nod, holding onto the gun and feeling so cool.

Like that the two of you are off, sneaking around the winding corridors and hiding.

Honestly? This is the most fun you’ve had since you got here. Its all you can do to not bounce on your heels when you follow Soap around.

He's just so into this, that you can't help but be sucked in. Speaking in low tones to his ear peice, making sure you stick close, talking about positions and other military jargon that goes over your head. Oh and he does it all with this charming smile, like the situation is serious yes- but like he's still making sure you’re having fun. Trying to keep you comfortable. The energy is tense but in a good way. Electric even.

You find yourself holding your breath whenever you hide behind a corner, or when he tugs you to him and holds you still- god it's just so thrilling. Maybe because you’ve had a boring night, and cause he's charming and fun in all the right ways- but you’re having a blast.

Even when things seem to get even more tense.

You and Soap are currently nestled away in a little nook, a back corridor, a dead end. Soap curses, speaking into his earpiece. You can hear footsteps, someones coming. And if they see you and Soap- you'll surely be compromised.

(Which means your little game will likely come to an end. Most of the party people here are judgmental, ergo they probably won't appreciate your little roleplay. Its in this moment that you decide- fuck it, you dont want this to end.)

“Sergeant!” You whisper harshly, tugging off your fancy coat and draping it around him, “I’ve got a plan- trust me.”

He looks at you, mildly conflicted, he's about to say something but the footsteps are getting closer and you really need a cover story for why you’re lurking in a dark corner away from the party. You can only think of one reason two people would sneak away at a party.

Sue you for getting too into this silly game of pretend, but adrenaline spikes and next thing you know; you’re kissing him.

Rough and messy, needy. You let out your best wanton muffled moan. His eyes are wide, and for a moment you spiral, realizing what you’ve just done. Sure you were playing pretend and he was committed to the bit but you just kissed him for fucks sake- sexually harsssed him!

Oh god hes gonna hate you and you just ruined all that fun banter and any shot at ever speaking to the only decent person you’ve met all night—

He’s kissing back.

With sudden haste he pulls you close, kissing you back with a ferocity that short circuits your brain for a moment. His knee slots in between your legs, entangling you two, and then there's a soft thud as his back hits the wall.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Your heart races, a slurry of adrenaline, of elation because he was playing along with your silly cover story, of something hot and molten because he was running his hands along your outfit desperately.

Amidst the heat of it all, the grinding of his knee between your legs- you don't even notice the fact that the footsteps stopped. Johnny does though. He breaks the kiss with a purposeful loud noise, when he sees your dazed and confused expression however- he quickly aims for your neck before you can say a word and accidently give away the clever cover story you thought of.

You gasp, the noise does wonders. He can hear whoevers about to round the corner shifting about, obviously realizing what's going on and debating if they should check to be sure or spare their eyes of the sight.

So of course, Johnny helps them decide by laying it on thick.

“Fuck atta girl hen, wanna hear you fall apart f’ me.”

He presses you against his knee, nibbling at your skin to make your breath stutter. Thankfully, you catch his words and seem to get at least to some level what he's doing.

So of course, because god damn it- you’re in the thick of this silly military operation act now- you’ve gotta commit. You moan out the worst thing you can think of to make someone go away. Which is of course—

“Daddy!”

(Johnny can hear Gaz fucking roaring with laughter over coms. It takes everything in himself not to laugh then and there. Luckily, having a pretty little thing pressed against his knee and trembling provides a good distraction. Still, he can't repress the grin.)

“Yeah? Need something kitten?” He captures your lips again, a quick kiss this time, just to leave you breathless for your next remark.

“Y-Your c-” Oh my fucking god you dont know if you’re struggling to speak because you’re trying your damndest not to laugh, or because you are painfully terribly aroused at due to his kisses and husky voice. Thank god he intervenes.

“Whats that kitty? Yer gonna have to speak up. Lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He guides you across his knee, you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging that stupid mohawk close to kiss him again.

When you quickly pull away, you rush out the words, failing to hide the look of pure hysterical amusement on your face- luckily the rush of words is mistaken for neediness and not because you are seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Your cock-”

He captured your laughter in another kiss, groaning to hide the sound of your stifled snickers.

Finally, after what seems like ages and yet too little time- he hears Ghost in his ear giving him the all clear. Not without clear amusement.

Johny backs off, panting heavily and listening. He hears nothing but empty air. Quietly he whispers,

“They’re gone.”

You pant as well, trying your best to keep your hysterical little giggles quiet. Johnny is right there with you, like fucking schoolgirls- the two of you giggle for a moment.

Ah but you should probably apologize.

“H-Hey im sorry by the way- for kissing you out of the blue like that, i didn't know if you’d be comfortable with it but uh- i kinda got invested in the whole-”

You wave a hand about as he backs off you, pulling his knee away from your heat between your legs.

“-‘Don't get caught’, thing. Sorry if i um- took it too far and make you uncomfortable…”

(Johnny looks down at you, pretty little oblivious thing, looking all sheepish and nervous as if there wasn’t the high potential you just saved both his and your asses with your quick thinking.)

“All good lassie. Good quick thinking.”

(As much as he’d love to tease you more about it- or even tell you just how much he enjoyed kissing you until you were breathless- he’s still on a mission, and you need to keep moving.)

(So for now, he settles for a hair ruffle and a wink. You smile all the same.)

The pair of you continue, and you are starting to wonder where you’re going. This ain’t the way you came in- though, you suppose coming in via the main entrance would defeat the point of the game. Which was of course: to sneak you out undetected. Walking through the hall of party-goers probably wouldn’t be the best call.

Still, it's odd when you find yourself stopping at a room. It appears to be locked, a passcode and everything. This doesn’t seem to be an issue though.

(“Intel says they left the hard drive here. Code is 269344041.” Johnny listens to Ghosts voice, inputting the code easily. He ignores the confused look you end him in favor of mumbling-)

“a’m in.”

You blink as he talks to his earpiece. Carefully and quietly as you enter the room, you ask,

“Um… sergeant? What are we doing in here?”

“Looking for a package hen.”

(“Should be in a small red box.” Ghost relays.)

“-Little red box. Help me look?”

You nod like the helpful little thing you are and begin to search the room. It’s a storage unit of sorts. Bunch of random shit, you even spot a cool ass box of skeleton bones. That you show to your newfound companion.

He grimaces and gently sets the box down away from your hands.

“Let’s not touch anything else alright lassie?”

It’s framed as a question but really it’s an order. You just shrug, and then remember your line was supposed to be, ‘yes sir.’

“Yes sir.”

The search doesn’t take long after that, a few minutes max before you spot a little red box high up on a shelf. All the things around it are collecting dust, but the dull red colored cardboard seems to be free of it. Placed there recently it seems.

Maybe this whole immersive thing was planned out, and maybe it was pure luck you got roped into it. Everything was awfully elaborate after all. With him knowing the code and stuff.

“Sergeant i think i found it.”

He’s on you in and instant,

“Where?”

You point up the shelf. “That it?”

He carefully grabs it, opens it up and shuts it before you can get a good look. Looked kinda like a flash drive? A flash drive inside a plastic baggie.

“That’s what we’re looking for alright. Good work lassie. Ye might as well be a recruit at this point.”

He’s joking it seems, so you smile back in turn.

“Lived a bit too cushiony of a life for military work i’m afraid.” You gesture once more to your royal outfit. “But i’ll consider the offer sergeant.”

He takes you by the arm, tucking the box into his vest and leading you to the door.

“Glad to hear it princess.”

After that, it’s more sneaking about, more little bits of banter whenever you can, and listening to him speak into his earpiece. It’s dreadfully fun, the most fun you’ve had all night and honestly? At any party ever.

Finally- Finally, you seem to make your goal as you feel open air on your skin. That took forever to get out, with how massive the place was, but by god it was fun sneaking around like a super spy with…

Oh. You come to the sudden realization that you don’t actually know his name. That and- you never gave him your name either.

Well, this is where you leave so…

“Hey i just realized i never got your name.”

He turns to you for a brief moment, his hands on your arm now, tugging you along away from the building so that the bouncers at the front won’t see you. The two of you stop a little ways away.

“Soap. Or Johnny if you’d prefer.”

He says it so simply, with such an easy smile.

“And you princess?”

You say your own back, and it sounds so nice on his tongue. So right.

“Um- if you wouldn’t mind-“ You’re fishing in your bag now for your barely charged phone, wanting to get his number because he seems like a stand up dude and-

Soap touches his earpiece, “Package and civilians secure L.T. Good to go.” He says it quiet enough you don’t hear it, too busy looking for your phone.

(“Roger. Gaz move in.”)

“-could i maybe get your number? After i find my phone, of course. it’s just uh, well i had a lot of fun. Truth be told the night was pretty shit before you found me so if it’s okay with y-“

Your eyes widen when you see behind Soap, several Military troops storming the place, all of them holding what look to be- very real guns.

“What the fu-?”

You start, dropping your phone in a shock and completely shattering the poor device against the pavement.

Johnny can’t seem to bite down his grin.

Slowly, and yet all too fast, everything clicks as soon as you hear gunshots.

At a snails pace your head turns towards Johnny. Soap. The sergeant. The real sergeant.

“I did tell ya it wasn’t a costume hen.”

You were such a fucking idiot.

——————

Awkwardly you sit in your chair, taken in for interrogation. Less that and more for protocol considering everyone agreed you didn’t know jack shit.

Apparently, you went to the wrong party and somehow ended up at a terrorist gathering, which would explain the weird vibes of all the guests. And the super big and confusing building. And the many locked doors. And the—

The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt so at some point in the hours of being on this stupid military base, you stopped.

To your utter horror and humiliation: Soap was a real sergeant. On a real mission. And he gave you a real ass fucking gun. And you had kissed him and oh god he had his knee between your fucking legs- you called him daddy.

Physically unable to handle the shame and embarrassment, you make a noise similar to that of a dying cat and bury your face in your hands.

The person ‘interrogating’ you, (a nice man that everyone called Gaz), just laughed. At the very least your misery was amusing.

“I am- so, so so fucking sorry, oh my god i’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It helped to keep you calm. Better than dealing with panicking eh?”

You nodded because he made sense. It didn’t mean you were happy about it- but it did make sense. Soap tried to tell you after all. Honestly it was probably for the best you thought it was all a joke. Who knows what you would have done if you knew it was for real, probably panicked and gotten both yourself and him killed.

Gaz pats your head, an amused but sympathetic smile on his face.

(God fucking damn it, were all sergeants just naturally this fucking charming??? …You don’t have a thing for military guys do you?)

When the captain of this whole thing walks in, John Price; with a smile like that of a damn koala bear and air of authority- you decide that, yeah. Maybe you do have a thing for military types.

Go figure.

“You're free to go love.”

You sigh with relief, mostly because you don’t physically think you can handle anymore embarrassment. Your face is starting to hurt from all the cringing you’ve been doing. How are you ever gonna live this down?

“Afraid your phones broken though. Do you know the way home?”

No. Obviously not. You were taken here via military truck with the other soldiers. Frankly you could be in a different country right now and you wouldn’t know because you passed out at some point from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

(Price of course, knows this. He just wants to see you squirm a little longer. Is it wrong? Yeah. But he’ll be damned if you aren’t the most fun thing to mess with.)

“Um no- sir.” You tack on the title quickly, unsure exactly what to call him.

“Alright. I’ll have one of my men escort you home.”

As long as it’s anyone but Johnny you should be able to survive a car ri-

“Soap.”

Fuck.

“Take my car and escort the little lady back home.”

…You just had to think it, didn't you?

(Price knows he’s cruel for messing with you. Mean and terrible really. But the face you make when he calls Soap into the room? Where you look like you go through every stage of grief before landing on depression in .5 seconds?)

(Priceless.)

——————

The car ride is just as excruciating as you thought it would be. Even worse- Soaps a good guy. Charming and fun, sweet even. He jokes and teases you but tries his damnest to make the car ride as comfortable as possible.

Hell he even offers to stop someplace and buy you something for the road. And offer you not let would refuse; but you were at the base for hours, and it’s like 2 AM and you are exhausted and hungry and embarrassed.

So the two of you get some takeout, and eat in Prices car. You would be worried about eating in the car, but Soap makes you comfortable, assuring you the captain would probably be more upset if he let you go home on an empty stomach.

The rest of the drive is cozy after that. He pulls laughter out of you, and embarrassed groans but it’s all in good fun.

By the time you get home, you’re most definitely a little unsteady on your feet just due to how tired you are. He helps you out of the car, and even walks you to your door.

Before he leaves, you awkwardly debate giving him your number. Just so you could buy him drinks or something later down the line to make up for your utter stupidity today- but then you remember your totaled phone.

Damn.

And then, a god seemingly hears your prays because he’s slipping you a sheet of paper.

Drowsily you blink down at it to find a king number string. A phone number.

When you snap your eyes back up to him, he’s grinning.

“You wanted it right lass? Give me a call sometime.”

And then, he’s winking and walking away. Just like that.

…huh. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

[genacity]

⌗ halloween special! you poor thing.

cw. ꒦꒷ dom! reader x sub! ghostface! amab! character. gender neutral. dom to sub themes. breaking and entering — unrealistic scenarios. ass eating, anal fingering, spanking, degradation, dacryphilia. could be considered dubcon, but both parties do give consent. plot before porn, no specific character. not proofread.

an. ꒦꒷ happy halloween! 👻 thanks 4 tuning in… very odd layout, i know!!! but special moments call for special layouts!!! this fanfiction was originally going to be written w/ itto as ghostface, but i decided it would be better if i just let ur nasty imaginations run wild with whoever you want lmfao 🫶🏼 i kinda like the photo w the divider though!! may add it to all of my fics 🤭 sending love to all of my halloween fanatics, and to everyone who doesn’t celebrate??? pretend its the purge!!! /hj 😁 IM GETTING DISTRACTED LMAO ENJOY THE FIC!!

october 31. 9:31 pm.

snug in your favorite pair of sweatpants with a bag of candy beside you from tagging alongside your niece and some of the neighborhood kids as a chaperone to their vigorous session of trick or treating. they had roped you into the fun and torn the pillowcase off their pillows to offer you as your sweet-hauling sack for the night — you had ended up taking some girl’s pink unicorn pillowcase, in which she happily handed over with a toothless smile and a loud giggle.

safe to say, your niece began the night screaming as you had ultimately “betrayed her” for not choosing hers.

it ended up being quite fun, the roundabout, even better you had a whole two armfuls of free candy all to yourself. with your favorite halloween movies on your computer and your fairy lights illuminating your bedroom, you were sure nothing could ruin your night.

except the echo of a shatter.

“the hell…?” you murmur, pausing your movie. the sound of glass breaking downstairs catches your attention. it doesn’t sound like the usual glass cup, but more like a window or a door. “oh fuck.”

your heart skips a beat as you hear footsteps echoing through the hallway. your breath catches in your throat and you spring up to grab the nearest thing you can use as a weapon — luckily for you was a bat from your childhood. good thing you had a strong arm. or else you might as well have prayed to die from shock.

you slowly crack the door open and grip your bat, lingering outside of your door. your heartbeat was loud in your ears, eyes darting around, searching for any threat. you decide to stray a bit farther, silence following behind what was left of the echo of the intruder’s footsteps. you squeezed your eyes shut, praying it was a fat raccoon, hell, even a bear. anything that you had a chance against.

fear enveloped you like a cold blanket. quiet and frightening. you listened for a sign of anything, anyone. yet the only sound left was the remainder of trick or treaters and the few rumbling of cars down the road. your fingered trembled alongside your spine — you felt like you were going to drop onto the floor and pass out at any time.

the footsteps erupted from the darkness again. this time, they sounded closer. you turned around quickly and backed up against the closet door behind you, the sound of your labored breathing in your ears like headphones playing a song with the sound on the highest setting. you could hear yourself swallowing thickly as you looked around in raw fear, praying silently to whatever god that could hear you that the invader would think no one is home and just leave.

you finally decided to go and find the person yourself. fucking outrageous idea, yes, but if they wouldn’t leave, you’d have to make them. you forced your feet forwards and kept your head up as you made your way to the kitchen. the footsteps stopped abruptly, making you hold your breath in fear.

“who’s there?” you ask with a shaky breath. you grip the bat so hard your knuckles nearly blanched. you could feel the old wood splintering under your grasp, small pieces of wood poking into your palms. but the pain was nothing compared to the fear looming above you like a dark cloud, waiting to strike you down.

your question meets cool silence. but it only makes your shoulders tense. maybe you were just dreaming. maybe this isn’t real. thoughts swarm your head as your breathing becomes shakier, a gruff chuckle interrupts your thoughts out of the blue.

shit, shit, oh shit. your hands begin to quiver as the voice pools right next to your ear, like fear coming to greet you. you couldn’t see them, it was too dark — yet they were right on the other side of this wall. yet you couldn’t cry and give up, you had to do something. you vowed to never let anyone fuck you over, and especially not like this.

“you should never say 'who’s there?' don’t you watch scary movies?” the voice stirred. your shouldered stiffened as all of the strength in your fingers threatened to give out and drop your weapon. “it’s a death wish. might ‘s well come out now.”

you took note of where you stood. the kitchen counter was just next to the entrance of the kitchen where you currently were — maybe you could push them against it, render them immobile. anything to get you the upper hand; there was no way you could sit here, weak in the knees. weak in the knees?

you kept your mouth shut as you held the bat firmly, struggling not to let your trembling fingers give your position away, even if it was painfully obvious where you were. the stranger sighed, making you shiver — it was almost if their breath was right up against your neck, lingering by your ear. you two were mere moments away from one another, both not planning to move.

“well, if you won’t move,” they droned. “i suppose i will.”

in one quick motion, the intruder turned the corner and pinned you against the wall in which you stood, revealing the cloaked figure that has been tormenting you so calmly for the past half an hour. you screamed, nearly dropping your bat at how fast they had moved to catch you. you were frozen in fear. and you hated it.

“oh, dear.” they mused, leaning into your face. their arm was just level to your skull — where you realized they had driven a hooked blade into your wall, only inches away from your head. you could hear yourself breathing shakily as you straightened your posture, attempting to seem more menacing.

you were face to face with a mask. a long, ghostly face; one with droopy black eyes and an empty, sullen mouth shaped as if melting off the formation of its skull — the sullen feeling of distress and pain apparent in its face.

“oh, darling,” the voice behind the mask made your legs shake. “why so scared? ‘m only here to say hello.” they took your chin in their hand and tutted it in their direction.

you nearly went numb in fear as the hooded figure chuckled lowly. “so much occupied space between us — i’d rather fill it up with something more — interesting.” their fingers ghsoted your skin as they traveled up the wooden bat to the top, persuading you to let go. but as you stood, quivering in fear, they slipped the bat out of your hands and threw it to the ground with a large clatter.

“much better.” they said, the slight smirk evident in their tone. “i saw you trying to catch up to those kids you were chasing. babysitting, perhaps? i didn’t see any children around here,” the ghost-faced stranger pondered, looking around for any sight of a stubby toddler down the hallway. as soon as they were sure you weren’t someone’s parent — their attention turned back to you.

“you looked so stressed out there,” they cooed, their tone making your blood boil. “mind letting me help you out?” you gasped as the hand that was once propping your chin up slid down to grip your shoulder. “you don’t fucking know me.” you snarled. “i’ll fuck you up.”

the masked intruder laughed at your advances, making you all the angrier. “oh, how i would adore seeing you try.” they leaned in, the ghostly mask now only inches away from your face. “i bet your pretty head is full of ideas. god, now you’ve got me all excited.”

you scoffed. “i bet.” you reached out and index finger to point out the tent in their tunic. “now, will you let me handle you or not?”

this was a stupid idea — fucking some rando who just broke into your house at 9 pm on halloween? what the fuck kind of idea is that? but they were right, you were pent up — and after all of that candy, you surely weren’t going to sleep for a good few hours.

the stranger hummed, inching away from your face. “might as well. your efforts will be wasted anyway.”

you wasted no time grabbing them by the waist and flipping them around, slamming their back into the wall. you felt down their body as the cloaked one gasped, your hands trailing from their hips to their inner thigh as you hoisted the material up.

“no underwear, hm?” you said as you were met immediately with the burglar’s hard cock. they chuckled breathily as you made quick work of your hands, wrapping them around their dick as you stroked them up and down. “so b-boring,” the masked thief stuttered. “c’mon, hurry up and get to the good part.”

you rolled your eyes — what a needy whore. “shut up ‘n take what i give you. either that or i can call the cops.” they sigh shakily as you speed up your pace, thumbing their dripping tip as the invader’s breaths get more erratic. their fingers dig into the wall behind them, feeling around for some type of leverage good enough to keep them stable. little whines slipped from their lips as they bucked into your hand, making you laugh and push away.

“you’re so easy,” you tease, watching as the person behind the mask whimpered and turned their head to look at you. “and here you were, talking so fucking big. i should just leave your sorry ass here and call the police.”

they sucked their teeth as you dipped down onto your knees. “oh? are you giving up?” you scoffed as you prodded at their slightly shaky knees. “hold up your fucking shit and shut up and turn around. i want to get this done quickly before something else gets into my house through whatever entry you got in from.” you pushed the bottom half of the tunic into their hands as they turned sheepishly to face the wall. “why?”

“you said “get to the good part”. so i am. are you questioning me?” you asked. the person shook their head slowly as you nodded. “good. now stay still.”

your hands gripped the back of their thighs as you pushed your head in between their ass. they yelped, your hot breath against their fluttering hole making them shiver. “wait, what are you doing down — fuck!”

they gasped loudly as your tongue began to lap slowly at their rim, hands spreading their asscheeks apart to gain better access. your tongue worked skillfully around their hole, making the anonymous criminal drop their costume and push their hands into the wall.

“the hell did i say?” the stranger whined at your tone. “i — i don’t — i don’t know!” they sniffled, making you tsk at their pathetic pleads. your head swam freely with ideas of what you’d do to them for punishment — but you didn’t have anything on you. so a nice spank would suffice.

you lifted your hand from their ass and brought it back down forcefully, causing the cloaked person to sob (and arch their back a lil too 😏). “i just said it a few minutes ago. hold up your fucking shit.” you demanded. their left hand moved quickly to hold up the bottom of their tunic again. once they felt your sigh on approval against their hole again, they sniffled and squeezed their eyes shut under the mask as you continued to ravage their ass.

from sheepish whimpers to loud moans, this poor puppy was proven to be all bark and absolutely no bite. “even beneath a mask, you’re still just a little bitch.” you laughed meanly against their hole as your fingers roamed from spreading their ass to accompanying your tongue by their rim. “i — i uhm — fuck, i—” they squealed, the feeling of your fingertips lingering against their wet hole making their legs quiver. “wait, no, are you gonna — i can’t, ‘m gonna cum!”

you snickered again as your tongue pushed through their barrier just a bit, milking another shocked whine from their mouth. “i think you can handle it, don’t you think? it’ll feel even better than just my mouth.” you broke away from their leaking ass as shaky breaths followed your words. your heart skipped an extra beat as you saw their head completely crashed downwards, staring at the space in between their legs. the masked stranger let out a quivering exhale as they nodded weakly. “i want it in. put your finger in me. please?”

and that was all of the clearance you needed. you pressed your face back into their ass as you continued to eat it out. your fingers pushed through the crowd underneath as you slowly eased it in beside your tongue. “fu — fuck!” they moaned, throwing their head back as their fingers gripped around the black material of their robe. “good, good — more, please, want you deeper!”

“‘m sorry for breaking in — s-so good — i uhm, i jus’ — fuck..!” you ignored how awful that first part sounded as you quickened your pace and thrusted your finger inside of the ghost-masked intruder, feeling them slipping from their position as their back arched further into you. you could tell they were about to cum. legs shaking, knees buckling — all of the signs stuck out like a bright lantern in the dead of night.

if it wasn’t halloween and kids weren’t still yelling outside, the way this bitch moaned surely would have gotten the cops called for you. “please don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum — wanna cum for you, all for you, jus’ please don’t stop fuckin’ me!”

even if you were lockjawed and your wrist was about to give out, you sped up your pace just to hear those pathetic squeals and pleas — they would be of your name. if your poor puppy knew it in the first place. “can i cum? please lemme cum! so close, i’m so fuckin’ close!” you sighed into their hole, making them shiver once again. “fine. but only because you asked nicely.”

all they needed was “fine” — not like they could hear anything else. they were far too busy screaming and nutting all over your fucking wall to hear what else you had to say. hell, the damn bitch came so much you might as well paint your wall white!!! 🙄 their last spurts of cum shot out all over your floor as their legs finally gave out on them, causing them to drop to their knees and sink onto the ground. you came up behind them and pulled them up onto you so that they leaned against you on the floor.

“so, stranger,” you inquired softly and slowly so that their mushy brain could comprehend your words. “what should i call you?”

they looked up through the falling eyes of the ghostly mask that covered their face.

“ghostface. you — you can call me ghostface.”

THE SMUT WAS SO RUSHED OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS TURNED OUT SO MUCH WORSE THAN I WANTED IT TO I’M GONNA

ok hapy halloween

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Devil (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: The corpse in your bathroom is not a corpse, but rather a pure blood fanatic with a penchant for child brides. You are not impressed.

Warnings: Violence, sexual thoughts, mature language.

A/N: Part of my Halloween celebration! Part 1 here.

There is a girl screaming, somewhere. It forces Daemon out of his slumber, groaning. Gods, what in the Seven Hells had he done to deserve such a rough awakening?

“Ugh. Stop that, girl.” He says, getting up from the wet stone floor he lays on. It's oddly smooth under his palms. Daemon braces himself for the wave of nausea that will surely follow, expecting the horrible hangover he has gotten every time he drinks ever since he turned thirty.

One would think it gets easier, with age. It does not. And surely, if he had drank enough to not remember where he is or how he got here, this was going to be the mother of all hangovers.

Much to his astonishment, it's not. There is no pounding headache, nor is there a wave of nausea that follows his movement. Daemon is unable to marvel at it, though. The vague sound of a girl whimpering and cowering forces him to stop his pondering and instead focus on the problem at hand.

“Stop that, you little fool. I am not going to hurt you.” Getting up was much harder than he thought. His body feels heavier than it should. It's only as he looks down that he realizes that he is still in his armor, covered in blood.

Daemon understands it, then. He remembers the battle at the Stepstones, and his triumph over that damn crab. He looks you over and smiles.

You are a pretty thing. Younger than him, and terribly shy, you cower in a corner of what appears to be a bathing room. Someone has made sure that you bathe, as you stand before him in only a flimsy towel.

His men have always been a loyal bunch. Daemon had chosen them well. They didn't disappoint, anticipating his needs and sending someone to serve him. And not just anyone, but a woman who is exactly to his liking.

The bath is already drawn. He cannot wait to get inside it.

“Come here.” He orders you, and your face scrunches up in displeasure. “Help me get out of my armor.”

You take a hesitant step towards him before halting.

“I… I… You… There is blood.” And it's quite a dumb comment, but what else can he expect? He doesn't blame his men for not having found the epitome of wisdom here. There are barely any women at all. It's commendable enough that they have managed to find someone as sweet looking as you are.

You cower more. Your eyes shift to the door of the bathing room. That, he cannot have. Daemon wonders if you have been instructed already on what is expected of you, or if they had just shoved you into this room and ordered you to obey.

He steps closer to you, crowding you. The warm light compliments your skin, making you glow under the candlelight. You have an innocent air about you, all big eyes and pouty lips. The skin of your shoulders and arms is soft and unmarred. A perfect maiden, just in the bloom of youth.

“My men chose you well. You are a pretty one.” His dirty, bloodied hands come to grasp your pristine towel, pulling it away. You are naked as the day you were born, all displayed for his hungry eyes.

Gorgeous breasts. Lush hips. All smooth, perfect skin. If Daemon were a lesser man, he would be slobbering at the way your bosom bounces with your struggles, how your skin flushes and shines with the exertion.

“What are you doing? Leave me alone, leave me alone!” You are a feisty little thing, trying to wrestle your towel out of his hands. You are also slapping at him, everywhere you can reach.

Seven Hells. You are perfect for him, aren't you?

Daemon pulls you closer, hugging you to him. This close, he can smell the herbs and oils in your hair and skin, and it is heavenly. You smell clean and pure. Good enough to eat.

“You are so soft.” He trails kisses along your neck, keeping your wrists pinned down to your sides. You squirm, making faces and aborted noises. “And for how you struggle, you are pure too. Oh, I haven't seen a woman in months.”

“You are disgusting.” You finally manage to push him away, and you move towards a corner of the room. There is a bunch of fabric there that you quickly snatch. It's not a color he has ever seen before. You pull it over your head, and it's only then Daemon realizes it is a shirt. “Get out!”

“Don't be like that, little girl. You will be rewarded handsomely.” He says, half-heartedly. While play fighting might be fun, Daemon is too tired to truly fight you. Besides, he finds it distasteful. He might coerce, but rape is another matter altogether.

“I am not a sex worker!” You complain, from your corner in the room.

"Not for sale, huh?” Daemon smiles. He is amused at your refusal. Most serving girls would trip all over themselves for a night with him, especially if he was offering money for it. Not you, though. You were awfully proud for a commoner. It would only make seducing you more sweet.

“Who the hell are you?” Your voice is snappish. It seems like you finally lost your patience. It's not the tone that makes him pause, though. Daemon has realized from early on that you are quite spirited. No, instead, it's the fact that you don't know him.

“Daemon Targaryen.” He offers, after a pause. The idea of not being recognized in sight is one that is deeply confusing to him. Even here, so far from his home, he is known by the men and women that serve his army. For the Seven's sake, even the Crab King's men shudder at the mere mention of his name.

Something must be wrong. Daemon is somewhere he shouldn't be. There is no other explanation for this, and it makes his skin crawl.

You stare at him, in silence. Your lips purse. There appears to be a storm raging behind your eyes. Whatever confusing thoughts you are having, you do not share them with him. Instead, you point towards the door.

“No. Nope. Out!”

And Daemon, after realizing something is very wrong, does not have the heart to argue. He walks out of the bathing room, head hanging low. He is not ashamed, but he's not sure of what he feels, either.

When he crosses the threshold, the feeling of wrongness intensifies. There is a bright, white light illuminating the space he finds himself in. It doesn't look natural, it is much too harsh for it.

The furniture in the room is all wrong, too. There is nothing made of wood in sight, the love seat is shaped wrong and there is some strange artifact resting on it. Everything he touches seems to be made of a lighter material than wood and rock, that feels off against his skin.

Daemon grabs a small rectangle, covered in raised numbers. He presses down on them, curious about their texture.

Something on the wall lights up. People appear on the walls. Daemon screams, startled by their sudden appearance.

“Who are you? Identify yourselves!”

The people on the wall ignore him. He takes out Dark Sister. Now that he looks at them, Daemon realizes they are not people. They are too small for it. They must be something different. He thinks of the beasts of Old Valyria and comes up blank.

“Are you trying to stab my TV?” Your voice makes him turn, swinging his sword. You are gaping at him. Somewhere along his journey through this strange room, you seem to have found some men's underclothes that loosely cover your legs. You still wear the same shirt, which does nothing to support your bosom. It should make you look deeply unattractive, yet somehow, it does not. Perhaps, because Daemon knows exactly what hides under those clothes.

“Seven Hells, girl.” Daemon rubs a hand over his face. He is starting to get a headache. “Why are there tiny people on the wall?”

“It's…” You grab the rectangle from his hand and press something. The people on the wall disappear. “It's not real. It's like a picture.”

“A painting, you mean?” Daemon frowns. He had never heard something like it. You seem about to explain, so he shakes his head. “It's no matter. I see you traded your clothing for something that hides your charms. Good thinking. It will make it easier to focus around you. ”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms over your chest. Daemon can't help but leer. You are just too damn easy to rile up.

"Rather unfashionable, though.” He adds. “And it doesn't hide your chest fully.”

“This is nonsensical.” You say, sitting down on your strange love seat and pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Fucking witch.”

“Witch?” Daemon sits next to you. The love seat is made of dark leather. He guesses his armor won't stain it too much. It's awkward regardless, the joints in the metal not meant to bend that way. He starts taking off the chest plate, only paying you half a mind. He figures the venting that will surely come will bore him to tears.

Listening without hearing it's an art Daemon perfected a long time ago. Entertaining young maidens is no hard task at all. Mostly, they are pleased with hearing a few awed sounds here and there and some insightful questions.

Most men, they don't bother pretending to listen to women at all. It is what makes him so successful when it comes to courtship. You don't actually have to listen, it's enough just pretending to do so. Girls like you, they are just like flowers. Pay them a little attention, make them feel seen, and they will open up their petals. Then, it's not hard at all to pick one.

“Oh, forget it.” You mutter, and it's so bitter it takes him aback. It occurs to him, you were probably not about to air your grievances about someone, but perhaps alluding to a true witch.

“You consort with witches? Is that the reason for these strange artifacts?” Daemon raises his eyebrows. If any, it would make some sense.

"I do not.” You answer, nose scrunching up cutely. You look rather young, but he has met whores who look like girls barely out of childhood and are old maids already. There is a certain innocence to your demeanor, though, that indicates either a sheltered life or youth. “I am about to sound insane.”

“Go on.” He stops trying to remove his chest plate and turns towards you. This time, he gives you his full attention. Your eyes are wide and earnest, not a hint of dishonesty in sight. It's very refreshing. As a Prince, he is used to people lying to him to try to gain his favor. You don't look capable of it.

“A woman, she gifted me a love spell. Unblock my path, give me my other half and all.” You give a small groan, rubbing your eyes again. Embarrassment makes you sweet, it appears.

His other half. Hm. Daemon gently cradles your jaw in one of his hands, ignoring your squeals of protest. Pretty, for a commoner, and obedient, too. Your struggling stops as soon as his grip turns harsher. You look up at him, making a face.

“You are getting blood on me.” Your voice is shaky. Daemon has always enjoyed intimidating others. There is something so delectable about seeing fear overtake someone's face and knowing he is the one in control. It's even better with women.

But with you? It's not good. It's positively delicious. Your eyes lower in submission just the barest hint, before snapping up to meet his, angered. You bite your lips, as if unsure if you should be excited or scared of the display.

It's not like it's the first time a woman shows excitement and admiration over Daemon's prowess. But it's not a common reaction. Most women, they recoil at the barest hint of a threat or complain about his brutality. Those who mix excitement with fear, in his experience, are a special type of women. One that is very fun to play with.

“A bit late for that.” Daemon gestures at the love seat, carelessly. He is not very interested in discussing this, really. He is more interested in the fact that there might be some magic at hand. And not only that, but that you might be his fated half. “I have smeared it all over your chambers already.”

“Home. Not chamber.” You correct, haughtily. It's a sad thought, that these little rooms are all you have. Yet, what else could he expect from a commoner? No matter how pitiful, though, there are more important matters.

Focus. He needs to focus and get the answer he needs. But your body is tensing up, eyes darting towards the door. You look about to try to slip out of his grip, perhaps put some distance between the two of you. Daemon can damn near taste it. So to make sure you do not move, he gets bolder.

His hand goes lower. From your jaw, to the side of your neck. Not yet at the base of it, as not to choke you, but pressing hard enough you could imagine the threat. Think about how his hand could slip a little lower, or he could press a little harder.

Your pulse jumps rabbit fast under his fingers. Your lips part. They, they close. He wonders if that is the face you would make, were him to silence you with a kiss.

“Let's not get sidetracked. You? My other half?” Daemon frowns. You are pretty enough, with an edge of wordly innocence that would lead even the most pious man to sin. But you are not Valyrian. Your hair is too dark, your eyes are not purple. Why would you be his?

When Daemon thought of settling down, he always thought it would be with a Valyrian woman. While you were a far cry from his current wife, the Bronze Bitch, you were not exactly what he had in mind.

Daemon has always wanted a Valyrian bride. It is the way things should be. The only way to honor his heritage, keep his bloodline alive, ensure his children are special. How could a Targaryen claim a dragon if their blood was so diluted they barely looked like a Targaryen anymore?

Yet, Daemon is not blind. You seem to fit him in ways he could have never expected, as if you had been made for him. If your witch, or the gods, had brought him here, there had to be a reason.

“I think the same, trust me.” You roll your eyes, a bit too cheekily for someone whose windpipe he could crush at any second. It reminds him of a puppy or kitten, trying to seem ferocious. Daemon allows it only because it is endearing.

“What's so bad about me? I am a Targaryen prince, I own a dragon, and not to mention, I am extremely handsome.” He is half joking, half serious. Daemon is a tad offended, in truth. If any, he should be the one having all sorts of qualms about you being destined for him. You are a commoner, with nothing to your name, and from an absolutely unimportant family.

“The fact that you are fictional, for starters.” You jerk your pretty little head away, scoffing. That has to be the oddest thing he has heard you say all evening. And you have said plenty.

“Fictional?”

“In books only. And a TV adaptation.” You mutter, getting up from the love seat. You grab a blanket, thrown over one of the other seats, and wrap yourself in it.

“Huh.” Daemon's mind is working faster than ever, trying to decipher what you mean. This is not Westeros. That's clear. But what is it? Is this another world where he is only a story to you? Or is this some distant future, where tales of his name and deeds have spread?

“Huh, what?” You turn towards him, all wrapped up in your blanket. You look like an empress of old, blanket over your shoulders trailing after you like a cape.

Daemon takes a step towards you. Then another. You do not move, pinned to the spot by his gaze. Your lips apart again, as if to say something. This time, he does shut you up with a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Your mouth is pliant, and you open up for him beautifully. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling to keep him close. Daemon doesn't care that your grip is bordering on the painful. If any, it makes him more excited.

His hands go to grasp at your hips, greedily. Your flesh yields like soft butter under his touch, and you give just the smallest sigh against his mouth.

He crowds you, walking you backwards towards a table. Your mouths are still locked together, your breath coming in hot little puffs of air against his. It's a perfect fit, and as the back of your knees hit the table, and you let yourself be lifted onto it, Daemon wonders how he could ever question you being destined to be his.

“Does that feel fictional to you?” He asks you, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your lips twitch upwards.

“I am not certain.” You grin. “You would have to kiss me again, to be sure.”

“Just to be certain.” Daemon repeats, grinning back. “We can't have you having doubts.”

“Of course.” You answer, leaning closer. Your hand goes to cup his jaw. Your palms are tinted with blood. He has gotten you all dirty. The idea of you being bathed in blood, just as he is, from just being close to him is intoxicating in a way Daemon can't yet name.

He gives you a passionate, harsh kiss. Your head sags softly, until it hits his collarbone. Daemon decides it then. He is not going back alone, not to the Bronze Bitch, not to that damn war. He will have you, one way or the other.

Daemon gathers you up in his arms, walking back to the bathing room.

“Come. We need to get cleaned up.”

You nuzzle into him, soft as a kitten. You let him take your clothes off, then his. The water in the tub is lukewarm. One of your hands comes to rub at his shoulder blades, holding a rag.

Daemon grabs your wrist and presses a soft kiss to your palm. You look at him, eyes filled with lust. You are perfect for him.

You have always been.

[fernhelm]

opinions on the black sister relationships? i love your character posts sm!

i’m blowing you a kiss!

i love thinking about them…sorry this took so long, i was busy lounging and watching killing eve. i might type up something about the dynamic between the three of them, but i broke them down into pairs here.

bella & cissa ♛

i made a webweave here that basically sums up my thoughts on bellacissa. i do think cissa thinks she’s a fanatic and completely bonkers, but she’d defend her anyway. narcissa appreciates that in their patriarchal fucked up family, bella is carving her own path—she isn’t docile or ladylike at all. so cissa takes some vicious pleasure in how unleashed bella is. conversely, bellatrix has a deep-seeded jealousy FOR narcissa, who is at least able to play the part of the perfect pure blood woman in a way bellatrix never could. my vision is that druella has contempt for bella but pays a lot of attention to narcissa. once druella is dead, bella sees narcissa as both her baby and her mother in a way, and she resents both. but i won’t get into bella here she deserves her own post.

bella & andy ♞

the hardest relationship for me is bella and andy. my belief is that these two are one year apart in age, like irish twins. we know from dh that they’re basically identical. I think they were pitted against each other a lot. they both end up teaching each other how conditional someone caring for you can be. it’s obvious that andy leaving really wounds bella (as evidenced by the ferocity with which she wants to kill ted and tonks), so there is a degree of power andy hold over her emotionally. bella is both the terrorist and the protector in the home. she goes after both her sisters, but it’s with the ultimate goal of making them strong enough to face anything that’s thrown at them…andy doesn’t want to change her or save her—she knows all the dark, evil parts of her and grapples with all the times bella showed her tenderness or turned her rage against someone else for her sake. i think they can read each other’s body language perfectly, but don’t understand each other’s minds at all. once they’re older they fight all the time, verbally if not with magic, and it would start with bella making some pointed jabs to get her attention and andy curating a biting response without looking up from her magazine and just like that they’re dueling. but once it’s over and they’re panting on the floor, bella would kick her leg and they’d smirk at each other a bit. or one of them would storm out. i do think that andy did bella’s hair for every event they attended between the ages of 8 and 16. huh, i guess i have more to say about them than i thought i did.

andy & cissa ♝

narcissa spends years stepping in the footprints andy has left behind. before she figures out who she is, she’s just a ghost of andy. she learns all her best defenses from her. i don’t think andy feels very bad about leaving her behind. i don’t think she’d try to convince narcissa to go with her either. she would miss her so much, but she’d grieve her like she’s dead. i don’t see her as a person who holds on to a lot of regrets. and she’s in love! she wants to run away and forget every bad thing that ever happened to her! is that a crime? narcissa thinks it is. growing up andy was her strongest ally, and she takes it as the ultimate betrayal when she leaves. similarly to regulus, she looks down on andy and maligns her whenever her name comes up, but it’s a cover up for how hurt she is. andy knows all the reasons that narcissa thinks she’s trapped in the life she leads, but she still thinks ‘if you want out, get out.’

daughters 1, 2, 3 ♙

fairy tales often follow a 1 2 3 format because it’s easy to remember a moral lesson tied up with a bow when it comes in a set of three (three billy goats, beauty and the beast, the peverell brothers). it goes bad bad good. so it’s super interesting that the ostensibly “good” one, andy, is the middle child. she is bookended by two death eater sisters. which raises the question: what went wrong (or right) with her? and for the others too—narcissa in canon is primarily draco’s mother, but giving her andromeda AND bellatrix as sisters raises all kinds of questions about her upbringing and interpersonal relationships. bellatrix chases and scolds narcissa at the beginning of half-blood prince, and she’s not particularly scary at all. the terrifying evil bitch who killed sirius calls her sister cissy? three sisters who mean vastly different things to harry, but we never get the three of them in a room, so so much is left to the imagination. lots to play with. good things come in threes!

[wandamaximoo]

You Don't Have to Pretend 3

Paring: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Established Kidnapping, Attempted Suicide, Dark!Wanda, Mind Manipulation, Mind Control

Summary: An escape attempt failed, Wandas plan being set into motion

Word Count: 1.5k

Part 1 and Part 2

Y/n's Pov

Wanda was sat beside me with a small smirk as I ate her delicious paprikash. It tasted just like I remembered from years ago.. Before the blip before she went insane.. before when we were friends and I had a crush on her..

"You're such a good girl, aren't you? You'll be my good girl from now on right y/n?" Wanda mumbled into my ear before she started stroking my thigh

I swallowed another bite before I hesitantly opened my mouth. "...why did you do this, Wanda?" I asked, setting the spoon down, Wanda sighed, clearly disappointed by the question, and her hand stilled

"Because I love you y/n, the world doesn't deserve your pure soul.." She smiled at me and picked up the spoon opting to feed me herself "Eat up please, I don't want you to die my love" She told me and I slowly opened my mouth to let her feed me, I felt a little drowsy no doubt Wanda's doing either she's used her powers on me again or the paprikash is drugged.

"What was her name?" I asked quietly after swallowing the food she had fed me, Wanda frowned and took my hand, holding it up enough so I saw the ring she had created

"See this ring, baby? It's the ring I gave you. You are mine. Not hers. Or anyone else's, Mine." Wanda said lowly, all because I asked what her name was. but I knew I was someone's girlfriend… was I? My mind felt fogged up and mushy.

"I'm sorry wanda…" I apologised looking down at my lap

"I know, sweet, it's okay. I forgive you!" She smiled and then got up from the table. "You eat up, okay? I'm gonna go check something, be good baby," She told me, then walked out of the cabin, I pushed the bowl away and got up from the table

Trying to escape would surely be futile, Wanda has no doubt taken me somewhere only she'd be able to find so if I can't escape I'd escape a different way, killing myself. I've had enough anyway, in the past 5 years I've tried to kill myself only once, I was stopped by…. Kathy? No no… her name was something different.. but she saved me and promised if I lived to the next Thursday we'd go out and watch any movie I wanted, and that's how she saved me. We ended up dating and then founded an animal shelter together… I think

I walked into the kitchen and went through the drawers until I found a large knife, I took it and went to the bathroom where I locked the door, and I sat by the bathtub.

I started off by cutting my wrists, then along my arms, and then I shakily pulled the knife away and stabbed it into my abdomen, I muffled my scream with the hoodie I was wearing.

I slumped down against the bath letting the knife stick out for a moment before I wrapped my hand around it and pulled it out drawing another scream from myself, there was a small pool of blood starting to form on the floor and I smiled to myself letting my head lull to the side, then I heard wanda enter the house

"Y/n?" she called out, I didn't Answer, the longer it takes her to find me, the less time she has to attempt to save me. "Y/n!" I heard her hurried footsteps go around the small cabin until she tried the bathroom door "y/n, open the door" her voice was calm but even if I wanted to, which I don't. I couldn't open the door.

"No.." I slurred slightly, my eyes felt heavier

"Fine." Wanda grumbled before the door handle went red, and the door opened to reveal Wanda. When she saw what I had done, she looked horrified "y/n...Oh my god- what did you do?!" She asked fanatically

"What I should have done a long, long time ago," I mumbled, letting my tired and heavy eyes meet hers. She had tears in her eyes

"No." She shook her head and placed her hands on my abdomen, letting them glow red. Within seconds, my wound was nonexistent. "You aren't dying y/n." She shook her head and lifted her hands to my arms. "I won't let you." She breathed out, and just like my stomach, my arms were healed, not even a scar was left

Wanda pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. "I've lost too much y/n, promise you won't ever do that again!!" She begged, and I felt her tears wet my shoulder

"I- ….I promise Wanda," I whispered and hugged her back. Then I felt her heads come up to my temples, and before I could pull away, my mind was invaded with magic.

"Come on, let's go watch some sitcoms," I suggested, pulling Wanda up off the floor. I don't know why my wife was crying on the bathroom floor, but I know sitcoms and cuddles always cheer her up.

"Y/n.." Wanda said a little hesitantly as she tugged my hand, preventing me from leaving the bathroom,

"Yes, love?" I looked back at her with a soft smile

"I love you, y/n," she smiled and kissed me, and I giggled a little

"I love you too wands, let's go cuddle and watch your favourite episode of dick van dyke before I start making us dinner" I said after we pulled apart, wanda seemed content with that because she let me take her to our bedroom

I got into bed then held my arms open for her, but she got in and pulled me into her. "I just need to hold you, to be sure this is real.." she murmured into my ear, and I turned my head to face her a little

"Of course, this is real wands. We are married, love." I laughed a little, and she smiled

"...I know…." She whispered then turned on the TV and put on Dick Van Dyke

Wanda's Pov

Everything was finally in place. y/n was safe and sound in my arms while she slept and nobody could bother us, I hated having to use my magic on her like I did but she went as far as attempting to kill herself, I couldn't let her do that and I certainly won't let her die.

I felt her shift, then turn to face me. "Shall we go make dinner?" She asked in an adorable sleep filled voice

"Can we scrap dinner and go straight to dessert?" I murmured into her ear. She grinned and shook her head

"Later" She told me while playfully slapping my arm before she got up, I sighed and she laughed "stay in bed if you want wands, I'll go make dinner for us it's okay" She said softly kissing my forehead but my gut twisted when my mind casted back to her laying on the bathroom floor, pale and almost dead with that kitchen knife I had been so stupid to lave accessible.

"No, I'll get up" I told her as I got up and quickly walked after her, she shrugged and pulled out some carrots and a knife "I'll do that, you cook the pasta?" I said, using my powers to take the knife from her hand

"Okay, you silly goose!" She agreed and I was thankful, I watched her place the pasta into boiling water and I felt calmer then I started chopping up the carrots, the mice was already cooked thankfully so I made the sauce and y/n kept watching the pasta

"Pasta is ready," She told me, taking it off the hob and draining the water and pasta into a strainer

Y/n took put the plates and put the pasta in it while I mixed the mice with the tomato sauce and carrots, when I turned around y/n put a little bit of tomato purèe on my nose

"Pffttt." She put a hand over her mouth as she laughed, and I shook my head and laughed along with her as I added our mice to our spaghetti. Y/n then took the plates and sat them at the table. She waited for me to sit down, and then she slid into my lap happily, "Best seat in the world." She whispered into my ear before she started to eat

As we ate dinner I couldn't help but feel excited, we'd finally start our family tonight, and with the boys I know she'd never leave even if she did get out of the mind control, but all I did was make her see that I love her.

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