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satans-helper · 2 years

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Scare ‘Em Off

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~2500

Warnings: SMUT ALERT! [dirty talk; handjobs; non-penetrative sex] 18+ ONLY

The boys are back for more Halloween fun ;) Perhaps this will become a tradition for me. It’s been a full year since I wrote any Sanny stuff and I really hope you enjoy ~

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“Danny, I need you,” Sam said into the phone as he curled up on the couch, his plush blanket becoming a complete cocoon around him. Normally horror movies didn’t spook him at all, but there was something about this night in particular that had him on edge. It could have been the wind howling outside which seemed too cliche to even be real–it had that high-pitched screaming sort of sound and it really did sound like a banshee or a witch roaming around outside. It also could have been the lightning that was breaking the sky apart in the distance, creating fierce cracks of white that low, rumbling thunder followed. He didn’t even know there had been a storm predicted for tonight.

It also could have been the apartment itself, which genuinely gave him the creeps once in a while. More often lately. Jake had warned him about some of the weird energy inside of it and Sam had laughed that off. As far as he was concerned, ghosts weren’t real. But the longer Sam was there, the more he sensed things, too–being watched at random times throughout the day, eerie creaks coming from other rooms, shadows in the corner of his eye. And then there were the nightmares that had recently started. A solo horror movie marathon might have just been a bad idea.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked on the other end. Whenever Sam was being a little dramatic–which even he himself could admit–Danny still always sounded earnestly concerned. Just a little–just enough to reassure Sam as soon as he picked up the phone. Danny was, after all, the only person Sam would actually ever call in a situation like this.

Sam peeked through the blinds into the dark sky. “I watched too many horror movies. It’s overkill now and I’m all edgy. I hate to admit it–” He sighed and turned away from the window, moving instead to turn on another lamp. “Jake might’ve been right. I think this place is haunted, Daniel, and this storm isn’t helping the vibe.”

“Aw, Sammy,” Danny said gently in a way that only he could. Never infantilizing or patronizing, just sweet. “Even if your place is haunted, maybe it’s a friendly ghost.”

“Nah, dude. I had another nightmare.”

“Oh, jeez.” And without a beat, Danny asked, “Want me to come over?”

“Yes. Like, right now,” Sam said, half-listening for any weird, suspicious sounds around him.

“Okay, then I’ll be there soon,” Danny assured him. Sam could already hear him moving around, undoubtedly wasting no time in getting ready to come to the rescue. “Put on a comedy or something. Your brain probably needs a break from all the gore and shit.”

“Gore doesn’t scare me, but ghosts do,” Sam reminded him. “Get your ass over here.”

Danny laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

The buzzer, loud and imposing, made Sam jump. It was really storming now, with a furious downpour smacking the windows and the lighting even brighter, along with the booming thunder that had crept closer. The annoying sound of the buzzer managed to be a blessing, however, because a few moments later, there was Danny at Sam’s door, thrusting a big bag of Halloween candy at him.

“Boo,” he said with a self-satisfied grin, cloaked in a sweatshirt. He kicked his muddy sneakers off before stepping inside, pulling his hood back at the same time.

“Boo to you, Daniel,” Sam said, tearing open the bag of candy. Normally he’d avoid that stuff but he felt like Danny made the right call by bringing it. Even the act of opening each individual wrapper might help ease some of his anxieties. Maybe he just needed to move, too. Too bad the lease wasn’t up until the summer. He went back to the couch and patted the space next to him. “Come help me ward off these ghosts.”

“You’ve gotta stop thinking about it so much.” Danny sat down, quick to slide his arm over Sam’s shoulders and hold him close, which was always a simple but extraordinarily comforting act. Physical contact was part and parcel to their relationship–even Danny’s most innocent touches never lost their spark. On the contrary, Sam had only found himself wanting more and getting more excited the older they got and the deeper their friendship became.

Sam opened a miniature bag of Skittles. “I’m trying,” he said, popping half of them into his mouth at once and passing the rest off to Danny. After swallowing the sugary rainbow down, he added, “That’s why you’re here–to help get my mind off all this shit.” He could see both of their reflections in the black TV screen–Danny had fully relaxed against the back of the couch, still keeping his arm around Sam and his eyes were locked on him too. Even in the slightly fuzzy dark mirror, Sam could see the mischief there.

“You look like you have an idea,” Sam noted, leaning back into the cushions too, making Danny lift his arm up. But instead of just taking it back to himself, Danny changed his position entirely. He pushed himself back against the arm of the couch and took Sam along with him by a strong grip across his shoulders, positioning him right between his legs. Sam wiggled, adjusting so Danny’s thighs were perfectly nestled around him and he could relax against his chest.

Sam smoothed his hand up Danny’s thigh. “I actually feel kinda protected right now. Maybe the ghosts here are homophobic and they’ll get the hell outta dodge after seeing this.”

Danny laughed. His hand over Sam’s chest moved to the top of his shirt, fingers undoing one button, then another. “If they think that’s bad, they’re gonna be really offended by what else I have in mind.” Sam kept his chin down, watching as Danny unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, then sighed as his warm hand ran up from his abdomen to his chest; his eyes closed as Danny’s lips met his ear and he said, gentle and low: “You know I have some real dirty thoughts about you sometimes, Sammy.”

“Mmm, oh yeah?” Sam teased, turning to look up at him. “You should talk about them. Y’know, make sure the ghosts are offended and they fuck off.”

“Okay, well,” Danny began, running his fingers through Sam’s hair while he kept petting his chest and abdomen. “Like last Halloween, after we escaped that spooky graveyard. Which, by the way, you weren’t scared of ghosts back then.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they weren’t in my fucking house,” Sam replied. “Come on, tell me. I’m not sure I remember what we did.”

Danny stroked his fingers along Sam’s temple into his scalp; they hadn’t had any sort of hair-based foreplay in a while. It was enough to make Sam’s eyes flutter shut. “So after we got outta there, with all that adrenaline, we went back to the car,” Danny said. “You don’t remember what happened after that?”

Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

“We dry-humped in the backseat until we both blew our loads in our pants.”

Sam snorted. “That’s what you think about?”

“Well, sometimes. That memory leads to other thoughts–I’ve jerked off while thinking about it, but then I’ll start thinking about things like…” Danny began, dipping his head down to speak softly into Sam’s ear again while one hand brushed through his hair, caressing the curtain back so he could press his mouth to Sam’s neck. “You on your knees. Sometimes after a show, all sweaty and half-naked. You make it so easy, Sam. I think about running my hands through your hair–kind of like this–and watching you suck my dick.”

Sam sighed, his entire body relaxed in a way that only Danny seemed to be able to elicit. Who cares about ghosts anymore? He was past the point of thinking now, eyes still closed as he focused on the feeling of Danny kissing his neck while one hand held his jaw and the other brushed down his bare chest. He laughed, opening his eyes, when Danny slid his hand right underneath his shorts.

“Dirty boy,” Sam said, reaching behind himself to tug at Danny’s hair. “What else do you think about?”

Danny hummed, cupping Sam’s cock over his underwear, brushing his thumb over his balls. “One of my favorite memories is from that one night in Atlantic City,” he told Sam, pausing to lightly scrape his teeth down his neck to his collarbone, pulling the collar of his shirt away. “In the hotel–when we fucked right in front of the window because you liked the view so much.”

“Being stoned helped,” Sam said. His chest was starting to flush, heart beating harder within it, and he was getting close to grabbing Danny’s wrist and shoving his hand right down his underwear to get on with it. But patience was a virtue, one that Danny had a saintly amount of, and Sam was always trying to learn more of it for himself.

“Bet I can make you feel stoned without the weed.” Danny did just what Sam wanted–quickly slid beneath the waistband of his underwear and grabbed his cock, wrapping his fist around it. Sam’s whole body jerked with the contact, one hand flying back down to Danny’s leg to grip his thigh hard; he felt Danny’s smirk against his neck, then teeth against his skin as he started to stroke him, slow and easy.

“Fuck yeah,” Sam breathed out, the words rough and quiet. He watched through the confines of both of their clothing–Danny’s sleeve covering his strong forearm that moved up and down slightly with each movement and his hand below, creating another bulge that tented Sam’s shorts. “You know what you’re doing.”

Danny kissed just beneath Sam’s ear, making him squirm back against that hard, strong frame: “I always do.” Sam squirmed back harder when Danny took his hand away, then choked out a relieved gasp when he returned it, his palm wet with spit.

Sam allowed himself a few more seconds of that bliss before he lurched forward and spun around, crossing his legs, and shoved one hand down his shorts. “Undo your jeans, dude,” he ordered, throwing a nod at Danny. “I think we should hump again.”

Danny chuckled, raising his eyebrows, and did what he was told. He reached down beneath his own boxers, preventing Sam from truly seeing him start to jerk himself off. Sam kept stroking himself anyway, leaning back to watch. Danny lifted the hem of his sweatshirt just enough to reveal part of his happy trail and Sam bit his lip, stifling a whine. Their eyes moved up each other’s bodies, locking together more so than paying close attention to what they were both doing below. There was a profound warmth rippling through Sam, an intense full-body sensation that Danny was a master at bringing to life by hardly doing anything at all. Those mysterious eyes could meet Sam’s at any point and he’d feel an intuitive pull forward, a deep but lovely ache to get as close as possible to the person who loved him the most–in that very special way–and judged him the least, even if they were fucking in front of a massive window overlooking a city or dry-humping in the car and everything else that came with their unbreakable bond.

Sam crawled forward between Danny’s legs, where he always felt welcome and safe in addition to completely hot and bothered. He lifted both his hands to hold the sides of Danny’s face and kissed him deep, offering a quick invitation of tongue to wet both their lips. Danny’s hands found Sam, too–one held his neck so gently and sweetly that Sam moaned softly just from that caress while the other played a fun game of contradictions by squeezing his ass hard, urging Sam even closer. Before Sam obliged, he made sure to pull away the clothing that was still blocking his access to one of his favorite parts of Danny, then his own, so they were both exposed but close.

Danny broke away from Sam’s mouth and gave a little huff; Sam started to grind against him, bringing his mouth to Danny’s jaw, nibbling there until Danny was the one squirming and moaning. His hand was kneading Sam’s ass feverishly while the other plunged into Sam’s hair and tugged, which brought to life a frenzy in Sam’s mind–behind his closed eyes, he could still see everything, from the beauty that always stayed bold in Danny’s eyes to the heat that was radiating between their bodies. Sam left a wet, pink mark on Danny’s neck before he looked down at the physical connection they were sharing–the dense, harsh thrusts of Sam and Danny’s eager reciprocity. It was so hot, figuratively and nearly literally, that Sam thought they were bound to start a fire if one of them didn’t finish soon.

“Oh god, yeah,” Danny moaned; Sam looked back up and he was smiling, watching Sam’s hips move before he met Sam’s gaze again and smiled even wider. Danny tugged on his hair and pulled him into another searing kiss. “You are so sexy,” he mumbled against Sam’s mouth.

Sam giggled. “Speak for yourself,” he said, reaching down between them to grab both their cocks in his hand, keeping his grip loose enough to where they could both keep thrusting. They were both close–he could feel Danny’s abs tightening and his dick getting hotter, the precum from both of them slick and warm. It was making Sam feel stoned. He latched his mouth to Danny’s neck, biting and sucking between his words: “Come on, come for me, Danny. Let’s make a fucking mess.”

“Shit–god, Jesus,” Danny moaned roughly, and Sam sucked even harder against his neck while he twisted his hand around their cocks and bucked his hips. He squeezed Sam’s ass so hard it would have hurt in any other context–now, it made Sam blow his load all through his own fingers and over Danny’s burning, slick erection. He exhaled hard, wanting to collapse on top of him, but he kept going, rutting hard and fast until Danny grabbed his hair again, kissing Sam all sloppy and wet and hot.

Sam hummed against Danny’s lips when he felt the heat between them peak and Danny’s cum slide over his fingers, too. “Goddamn, Daniel.” He pulled back and slid his hips backwards, looking down at that mess they’d made. “So fucking hot.”

Danny pulled him in again, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist, before he even had the thought of getting up. “Stay here,” he said.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” Sam said, resting his head on Danny’s shoulder. It was nice to be there, all pliant and relaxed–breathing together was like meditating. “But hopefully the ghosts left.”

“I’m sure we spooked ‘em. But just in case,” Danny said, beginning to play idly with Sam’s hair. “I can spend the night if you want some extra protection.”

Sam smiled to himself. “Or another round in case this one didn’t work.”

Danny laughed, a lovely, pure sound that Sam knew could battle any evil spirits. “Yeah, or that.”

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Tagging: @lavenderhazelover @bigthighsandstupidguys @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade @kiszkawagnergvf @chestinfect-me @woman-ina-dream @itsametaphorbriansblog @karrotkate @edgeofgreta @silver--storms @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @colorstreammind @mintysammykiszka @camomillacatalina @mssives

#heehee #this one was super fun #Danny Wagner #Sam Kiszka #Greta Van Fleet #GVF #Danny GVF #Sam GVF #Sanny #GVF slash #GVF fic #GVF smut

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 years

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AMoW March Trope-A-Thon Day 4 - Fantasy (Magical Healing)

Hehehehe I love some good magical healing! I can't promise a whole ton of comfort here though c:

TWs: Gore, overstimulation

"Here--! They're--yes--Mar--Bast--"

Voices swam around Mariano, melding together in the too-bright darkness. He couldn't pick any one out from the others, even though one voice tugged at something deep in his chest and urged him to stay. Shadows shifted and warped in front of him, deeper darkness cutting through the red glow of his eyelids. He was outside, and it was daytime.

Hands were on him, heavy, too tight, painful, unyielding. They pulled and pressed and held and prodded, sending rushes of agony through limbs too heavy to move anymore. "This way--" Someone was shouting. "Hurry--he's--!"

Did he need to move? He couldn't. He wanted to, he tried, but even more hands were holding his wrists down. Something else, prickly and familiar tickled the back of his neck and the undersides of his arms, and he couldn't move to make it stop. He didn't think his stomach or chest had ever hurt so badly in his life.

"Claws--beast--"

There was another attack? Another monster? Mariano tried to talk, to ask questions. If there was another, then he needed to get up. He couldn't be lying down, not if the little town they'd been staying in was still in danger. He couldn't form syllables, though, barely managing a small noise that wavered and rose at the end.

"Shh." Someone said, and one of those many hands pressed to his forehead. There was hardly any force behind it, but Mariano couldn't move. He couldn't sit up. "Shh, don't talk. Stay still."

When Mariano finally managed to open his eyelids, he caught a glimpse of the village leader he'd met with that morning hovering over him. He'd told Mariano and Bastian something. There was something coming, a monster. They needed help. It was too big for them to handle. Why was he there now? Had they failed?

He looked scared.

The man placed one hand on Mariano's open, unrecognizable chest and slid the one on his forehead over his eyes. All at once, something rushed into him. Mariano gasped, deep and long and strangled, and all the hands holding him pressed down harder.

It felt like magic made of pure, terrible ice scraped through his body, raking away the aches and yanking bones and joints back into their places. It burned, rushing into his stomach and chest, easing the dizziness he hadn't realized had gotten so powerful. It pulled his skin, closing the too-deep gashes he'd gotten when the monster had swiped at him. Mariano choked, voice catching and breaking on a wordless, inhuman noise.

Bastian was roaring and snarling, somewhere nearby. "Stop! Stop, what're you doing to him?" His voice was thick.

"He's healing him. You need to lie back down, you're not looking so great either." Mariano knew that voice. Where had he spoken to them before?

Mariano twisted under the unfailing mass of hands, his vision filled with stars and colors as his own newly-surging heartbeat filled his ears. The grass below him felt impossibly itchy and soft all at once. His clothes were too rough and too warm and too sticky. His hair, messy and freed from the ponytail he'd tied it in, clung to his face in the worst way. Tears rolled down Mariano's cheeks, hot and wet as they cut through the blood that had started to dry.

"That doesn't look like healing!" Bastian sounded as afraid as the village leader had looked.

"It takes a lot to bring someone back from being torn open." There was just a rasp to it. It was so close, Mariano could almost put a face to it. "Look, see, watch his chest. He couldn't breathe like that before. Those ribs are fixed."

Bastian muttered something else. He didn't raise his voice again. Was Bastian okay? Mariano vaguely remembered blood, the thick metallic smell surrounding him, and Bastian screaming something. He remembered how hard it was to hold his sword towards the end, palms slick and dark, dark red. He remembered scaled hands, holding his face and stopping the world from spinning out of control.

As the horrid, cleansing winter finished sweeping through Mariano's body, leaving him tingling and curling in on himself, the hands stopped pressing him into the ground. They helped him, gently now, onto his side. Something soft was laid over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. The grass was still too much beneath his hands and face.

Was that pathetic, gasping whimper coming from him?

The hands that still tingled like ice pressed to his neck and hovered in front of his lips for just a few shaky breaths, before shifting to squeeze his arm and pat his side. "Stay down, Kingslayer. No trying to get up yet. I'm going to take care of Bastian." He raised his voice, sounding like he was looking away. "Someone, come get him inside."

"There, see?" That almost-familiar voice came back, soothing. "See, it was healing, you can't see his insides anymore. You both saved us. You stopped it. We wouldn't just kill him after that."

"You'd...be surprised at how many ungrateful people there are. Is it gonna suck that bad for me?" Bastian was quiet before he groaned. "Fine, fine. Count me down, but lie about it."

Two more hands slid under Mariano's shoulders and knees, lifting him up from the ground. As he was carried away, through a gap in the fabric Mariano saw Bastian's glittering arms writhing on the ground, clawed hands clutching the dirt. One of the village leader's hands glowed like the winter sun against his bleeding side, harsh and clean and unrelenting.

Ghosts of pains that no longer existed haunted Mariano, pulling a groan from his throat.

"I know, Ortiz, I've been there before. He saved me with his magic when a bear got into town once, and I got brave." The butcher? "He'll get your dragon all fixed up." It had to be the butcher. She had that rasp, and the muscle to carry him like this. She'd called him doll the other day, and it hadn't felt bad.

Dim light filled the gap that Mariano could see and he sighed as the outside cacophony of voices and sun and wind and noise faded. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense until his jaw relaxed. She laughed gently, lowering him down onto something soft and smooth and cool.

"Right?" The butcher said, her voice feeling like a balm against his ears. "Feels like your whole head is on fire afterwards, makes everything feel horrible." Carefully, she pulled his shoes from his feet and pulled his hair away from where his face was still covered. "We'll get you cleaned up in a bit. Just relax right now. Let your brain stop buzzing."

Slowly, with one thumb tracing a circuit over his other palm and the steady thrum of his pact in his chest, Mariano began to relax again.

#amow tropeathon 2023 #Fantasy whump #Magical healing #Gore #Overstimulation /#Mage of violence #Dragon of diamond #This one was SUPER FUN #I love healing magic that's warm and gentle but like what if #What if the further it has to drag you back from death the more it sucks #You know?#Or just what if it's super overwhelming in general?#Anyway Mariano hates healing magic and he'll deal with it but he'd almost rather just wait if it's all the same

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