#halloween smut

[dabisqueen]

trick or treat

Trick or Treat

Ghost/Dabi x fem!Reader x Konig/Shigaraki

⇢ word count: roughly 3.2K ⇢ plot: It's Halloween and you make the mistake of knocking at the wrong door.  ⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, tw smoking, consensual rough sex, rough kissing, rough manhandling, a bit of degradation, slapping, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, cum in throat, unprotected PIV-sex, anal fingering, deep creampie, Ghost and Konig aka Dabi and Shiggy are actual sweethearts and take care of the reader later ⇢ A huge shoutout to my beta @blankexpressions-and-falsefires. without you, this wouldn't happen. without you, this wouldn't be as great. i am forever grateful for your help!

You and your friends were on your way to a Halloween party, which was going to take place in an old warehouse. The invites had been distributed months ago already, and everyone had been looking forward to it. 

What you were wearing wasn't very unique at all: Black high-heel boots combined with a short, ruffled red velvet skirt, a black petticoat underneath, and a matching red underbust corset. It pushed your boobs up so high that they nearly popped out any time you bent over. Thankfully, a white, off-shoulder blouse helped to keep a little bit of your decency intact. The last finishing touch was a red velvet cape. 

You guessed it—you'd picked the Little Red Riding Hood as this year's costume.

Getting off the subway station, your group walked down the dimly lit street, the wind blowing leaves and scraps of garbage along the street. The clacking sound of your high heels echoed off the walls and you wrapped your cape tighter around you and hoped that the warehouse would offer some shelter from the cold. Trying to avoid the cracks in the concrete with your pointy heels, you followed the rest of the crowd—as something off to the side caught your attention. 

A lone, lit pumpkin sat at a shabby door, a flickering lamp above it shedding just a bit of light.

“Hey girls!” you called out. “There's someone inviting trick-or-treaters over here!”

Your friends stopped and looked at the door you were pointing at. Nonetheless, they turned while your best friend called over “It's just a prank, forget about it!”

“I want some candy, though.” Pursing your lips into a pout, you stalked over to the other side of the street, calling over to the rest of your small crowd, “Go on ahead. I'll catch up to you later!” 

You didn't mind them rolling their eyes at you—cause you have been known to have the sweetest tooth of them after all.

Taking a deep breath you raised your hand and knocked on the door. Once. Twice.

No answer. 

Okay, you reason, it was just a prank. Just as you were about to turn, you heard voices closing in behind the door.

"Didn't think anyone would fall for this shit.” A dark voice hissed. “What kind of dumbass are they?"

"Beats me." Another husky voice spoke.

The door swung open and you inhaled sharply. Before you stood two men dressed head to toe in combat suits, one of them wearing a sniper hood, the other a Balaclava complete with a hard plastic skull attached to the disguise. 

Each of them was a character from the game Call of Duty– Konig and Simon “Ghost” Riley. 

The one dressed as Ghost casually leaned against the door frame. His eyes scanned over you, and your gut tightened, watching the brilliant cerulean of his irises take you in. His skull Balaclava, obscuring any other feature on his face, sent chills down your spine. The other's smoldering amber gaze grazed the curves of your body and lingered especially long on your décolleté before stopping back at your face. As far as you could make out, they both looked well-toned, and your gut instinct told you that they were stunningly attractive underneath those masks. Your heart started beating faster.

“Oh, look what we have here.” The man dressed as Konig mused in a sneering tone. “If it ain't Little Red Riding Hood.”

“What a coincidence—" his friend chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Cause you can consider us the Big Bad Wolves—”

It sent goosebumps crawling up your spine,  but you still bravely muttered with a shaky voice, “T-trick or t-treat?”

Konig and Ghost looked at one another, chuckling, before their gazes went back to you. 

"You really looking for a treat, little red?" Ghost cocked his head, brilliant blue seemingly burning into you.

Both men's lustful stares were unmistakable as they looked at your body with a desire mirroring the feeling that rose quickly in your chest.

"U-uhm, I guess?" You stuttered, heat rising into your ears now.

“Treat it is,” he said. With that, his strong fingers circled your wrist and he pulled you inside, Konig slamming the door shut behind you.

A shriek left your throat when he pressed you against the wall, his ghostly mask hovering right in front of you.

"You really want this?" He asked, tilting his head, "We'll only proceed if you do."

One hand propped him against the wall, the other trapped your jaw between thumb and forefingers. His hips wedged you in place and it sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs. You shamelessly squeezed them together, cheeks starting to glow with fear—and excitement.

"I-I don't know," you licked your lips as subtly as you could, and you could swear you felt him twitch in his pants. 

His eyes fixated on your lips as he pulled the Balaclava down from beneath the skull, tucking the fabric under his chin to reveal the lower half of his face. His lips alone, sharp and sultry, had you aching for more.

"I think you do," Ghost chuckled, his warm breath fanning your lips, the hard plastic of his mask almost brushing against your nose. His fingertips felt scorching yet delicate when he pulled you in for a kiss.

His tongue pushed past your lips, moving languidly around yours. The kiss turned raw and bruising, growing rougher by the second. His cold mask dug into your skin but the thrill of it all made you forgive it easily. Groaning into his mouth, your hands ghosted over his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his clothes. Your legs buckled, but Ghost was quick to react and slip a leg between your thighs to hold you in place. His firm thigh pressed right against you, delivering much-needed friction to stimulate your growing desire. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, half-lidded eyes smoldering with desire when he broke the kiss. He pulled the Balaclava back and straightened up, chuckling at the sight of a wet spot left on his pants. "You really love this, don't you?"

You nodded hazily. You were given no chance to catch your breath as he dragged you to a small, square table nearby. His grip was rough but gentle enough not to hurt you. You shrieked again when Ghost pressed your chest flat against the surface. Konig stepped close, his hand stroking the heavy and full shape of the growing bulge beneath his clothes. Ghost clasped his hand tightly around your wrists, pinning them against your back, holding you down. 

“P-please be gentle,” you pleaded, having seen both outlines of their dicks —not small in size—  strain against their boxers, ready to be strangled by your tight pussy.

"Don't be a chicken. You agreed to this.” Konig rasped. “So, we get to destroy you, corrupt your little pussy—" 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and your heartbeat started to pick up as you struggled against Ghost's iron grip.

"Aw, don't scare our little bunny, Shigaraki" Ghost tutted, stroking your back with his free hand. "We aren't gonna hurt you, doll."

Something in his voice made you feel like you could trust him — you felt that he meant it — and your body relaxed, your breath evening out.

"Party pooper–" Konig grumbled behind his hood, as he rounded the table to stop right in front of your face. 

"W-what are you gonna do to me–" You swallowed thickly, thrill shooting through your body in a rush of  adrenaline. 

“You want us to be gentle,” his voice suddenly deepened, “Or should we treat you like the little tramp you are?” 

“I am no tramp—” you replied breathily.

“Hm— Am I wrong to think that this turns you on?” Ghost chuckled. “The idea of getting fucked by two strangers just like this?” 

Ghost's hand trailed up your thigh, hiking up your skirt and petticoat to reveal the curves of your perfect ass cheeks. A growl erupted in the back of his throat at the sight, his hand stroking the soft skin he found there. The coil inside your stomach tightened as you felt his crotch grind against you from behind. You realized he was giving you a small taste of just how much of a treat you would be getting. Trying to push yourself back against his thick meat, though, earned you a harsh slap against your ass with his tactical leather gloves.

“Ow!” you cried out, the stinging pain driving tears to your eyes.

"Fucking lay still." Ghost growled and you instantly froze at the sheer authority in his tone, a hot pulse shooting straight between your legs.

He leaned over, whispering against the shell of your ear. "So, little Red, what's it gonna be for you?”

Your lips parted in a strangled whimper. You didn’t want them to be gentle. You didn’t want them to be respectful. This was thrilling, you've always dreamed about being roughly taken, about being manhandled. 

“Fuck me, please.” You pleaded.

“It's Sir to you!” Ghost slapped you again, the pain searing this time.

"Yes—Sir—treat me like your cumdump!” You choked out, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes.

"Atta girl." He purred and you could almost hear the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Ghost pulled your soaked panties down until they dangled between your ankles and dropped to the floor with a wiggle of your heels.

"Why do you always get to use the pussy, Dabi?" Konig whined, annoyed even as he unzipped his combat pants.

"Cause you only know how to fuck, boss." Ghost chuckled behind you. "Not how to please."

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heart beating so fast.

His hand gently stroked your ass again as he hummed. "This is supposed to be a treat after all."

A sense of comfort washed through you but you knew better than to rely on it. And oh boy, were you right.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, moving to stand in between them as you eagerly complied.

Konig freed his hard cock from his pants. It was so thick and heavy that it was hanging low even though it was fully erect. 

"Open up. I’m gonna fuck your face," giving it a few lazy pumps, he closed in on your face. His shameful words sent electricity to your nerves, and your mouth started to water as you opened it in eager anticipation.

Konig slipped the fingers of his free hand into your strands, holding your head still as he slotted himself at your lips before pushing his length between them. His spongy tip quickly slipped in and he let it rest on your tongue for a brief moment before pressing deeper.

Groaning against Konig's cock, you barely made out the sound of a zipper being undone behind you. Ghost lined up his cock with your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on his spongy tip, and only then was it that you knew that this really was going to happen. He snapped his hips forward without warning, quickly hitting resistance. 

The force pushed you down on Konig’s length further until its tip hit the back of your throat. He was breathing hard, bucking his hips forward, loving the way you loosened your jaw and let him fuck your mouth.

The man behind you slowly started thrusting into you, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder continuously stroking your insides, his Prince Albert piercing kissing your cervix and making you tighten and flutter around him. Each time he pulled out, his cock was covered in more of your glistening juices.

“Ah—fuck—look at that dripping cunt—” Ghost growled, rocking his hips against your behind, watching how your greedy, sloppy pussy kept taking him, even if he could only fit halfway.

They filled you up so perfectly—Ghost’s thick, pierced cock stretched your whole pussy without getting close to being balls deep, Konig’s heavy one sitting deep in your mouth, his fat testicles slapping against your drool-covered chin with each thrust forward. A gargled moan bubbled up your throat, feeling so stuffed from both ends, with Ghost's piercings rubbing perfectly against the spot that made stars erupt before your eyes.  

Goosebumps erupted all over your body as your mind began to swim.

"Aw, are you enjoying yourself?” Ghost leaned forward. "We'll make you feel even better soon...”

Then he started pounding into you, again and again until your brain was shut down. You choked between gasps as every thrust he made knocked the air from your lungs and forced Konig’s cock to slide deeper than before– until it was buried deep down your throat. You struggled to take it, breathing heavily through your nose, pleading watery eyes shooting up to his face to silently beg for a second of reprieve. 

"You look so beautiful, stuffed with my cock like this–” Ghost said in a voice that was just a low rasp. 

You were dizzy, breathless as he kept filling up your pussy with short, harsh strokes. He watched you writhe in pleasure on the table, your sloppy mouth stuffed with Konig’s dick. Ghost bent his head down and you could feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent. 

"You're taking both of us so well, little cockslut." Konig's words made you whimper even louder, glistening eyes meeting his as you struggled to breathe.

With Ghost’s hand still pinning your wrists behind your back, there was no escaping the assault. He slammed his hips harder against your pussy until you mewled out in pleasure, his piercings rubbing your g-spot just right.

The feeling of both men relentlessly working themselves in and out of you was overwhelming. Heavy grunts and growls accompanied the wet sounds of your sloppy holes getting fucked as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Ghost's cock drove deep, but you knew with a little effort, you could accommodate more of him. You parted your legs further to give Ghost even more access to your cunt. His dick began to throb and twitch, his hips bucking back and forth to find the perfect angle to thrust into you. 

And he did find it. Your body shook with pleasure, making you squeal deliciously around Konig's length. Ghost let out a breathless chuckle and spread your ass cheeks, wetting his thumb before sticking it into your puckered hole.

His friend watched the scene before him, half-lidded crimson eyes glazed with lust and desire. The sight before him turned him on so much that his hips stuttered and he came without warning. He let out a strangled groan, his hand grabbing your hair tightly as he forced you to take his entire length, his tip slipping past the back of your throat. You moaned, feeling him twitch on your tongue, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. His free hand rose to massage your throat, savoring the way you gulped and swallowed around his twitching meat.

“That's it, baby, take every drop of his cum," Ghost praises you. "Fuck– you're such a good girl.” He looked down to where you two were connected, his thumb buried deep in your ass, a sticky wet mess covering the base of his cock.

You tried to breathe but Konig didn’t budge, staying buried deep inside of you as Ghost picked up the pace now. He gave you strong thrusts that grazed the right spot, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You moaned, your vision turning blurry. The lack of oxygen, the continuous onslaught from behind— it was too much. it pushed you over the edge and you came, clamping around his dick while your sounds of pleasure remained muffled by Konig's cock still buried deep inside your throat. 

Ghost kept pounding into you while you rode out the high of your orgasm and finally, Konig pulled his softening cock from your mouth, letting you sputter and gasp for the air he'd denied you. He let himself fall back against the table behind him, his flaccid, drool-covered cock still massive in size and twitching slightly. Reaching out, he pushed your hair behind your ear before wiping off the saliva dribbling down your chin as you frantically gasped for air.

Ghost behind you kept up the pace, rutting his thumb in and out of your little pink hole in a contrasting beat to his thrusts. It became too much— you completely lost it, overstimulated and moaning unabashedly like a porn star now. Your cunt spasmed around his cock for a second time and you threw your head back in ecstasy, crying out through your climax.

“There you go, you're so fucking hot coming for us, doll." Ghost praised, continuing to rock his hips against yours. His deep thrusts grew messier and messier, being himself close to his release. 

Konig watched, eyes glowing with re-awakening desire as he tucked himself away.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you." Ghost let out with a low growl in his throat, sending goosebumps along your body. “Gonna fill you up, gonna breed you so good—”

He gained speed and with a final snap of his hips, he groaned out loud when he came, his hips stuttering as he shot ropes of hot cum against your womb. You could feel his cock throb with each shot, before he plummeted forward, breathing heavily. His chest pressed against your spine, and you felt his semen seep out, dripping onto the floor below. Silence took over the room while all of you tried catching your breath, hair sticking to sweaty foreheads, cocks sticky with release. 

Ghost started chuckling, pulling out of you with an obscene pop. His eyes were still glazed with desire as he watched how your pussy struggled to contain the load of his release. "You look so damn pretty filled up with my cum." he said with a hidden smirk as he kept pushing it back into you with his fingers. 

He stepped back to tuck himself away, and you stood back up on wobbly feet, brain foggy from the orgasms. Carding your fingers through your messed up hair, you reached for your panties but Ghost was quick to grab and stuff them into his pant pocket.

"Nu-uh," he tutted, his brilliant azure eyes twinkling with mischief. You sighed in defeat, trying your best to smooth down your skirt.

He pulled his balaclava down, slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes, and lit himself one. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled slowly. “So, what were you doing here anyway?”

“I was on my way to a Halloween party with my friends.” You coyly replied, carding your fingers through your hair. 

“Ya still wanna go?” He cocked his head, smoldering azures taking you in.

“What do you mean?" You looked up at him through thick lashes, still damp with the heavy tears that had sprung from your eyes in the struggle to keep down Konig’s cock.

“What Dabi wants to know is if you wouldn't rather continue our little party.” Konig snickered.

“Oh.” Was your simple reply. 

“C’mon doll, let's get ya cleaned up," Ghost pressed a kiss against your forehead. "In the meantime, Shigaraki is gonna get us some  drinks.” 

He swung an arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the door next to the dimly lit bar on the far side of the room. “We still have more treats for you…”

Happy Halloween and thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you comment or reblog, you'll make my day!

#dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader smut #shigaraki x you smut #konig smut #ghost smut #cod smut #ghost cod smut #konig cod smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x y/n smut #mha smut #bnha smut #halloween smut #konig x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #konig x reader #ghost x reader #dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia

[aikaterini-drag]

Night of Sensual Delights

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You plan a sweet and romantic Halloween night with your boyfriend, but he has other ideas for enjoying his candy.

Author's note: I hope you enjoy this sweet sinful Halloween delight! 🍭🎃 Show some love if you liked this, in any way you feel comfortable! Hugs and kisses!

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral(fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, just shameless smut pals.

Kofi ❤️ Wattpad 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

October was almost over and James and you decided to do something simple this Halloween just to get into the spirit. You had stocked up on all kinds of candies and planned a Halloween movie night with your boyfriend. With only a candle lit up, you snuggled into the couch, with James tucking you in his arms, a soft blanket draped over you. You cradled a bowl of candy in your arms, remote in the other hand and pressed play.

The movie of the night was a classic; The Addams Family.

Bucky hadn’t seen this one and was exited to find more about the films he had missed during his life as the winter soldier. As the movie started playing, you both watched and munched on the snacks. You laughed quietly at his reactions. He appeared unused to that kind of movies. At some point, he tensed up during a spooky scene and clutched you tight.

You grinned. "What’s wrong, oh, big, strong super soldier?"

He chuckled. “The transition was sudden.”

"Don't worry, Sergeant Barnes, I'll protect you from everything."

He took a popcorn from the bowl and tossed it at you. “You are such a teaser.”

“Hey!” You laughed and tossed another piece of popcorn at him. “Watch the movie!”

“You threw popcorn at me.”

“Well, you started it.” You gasped when he gently pinched your ass through you pajama pants. “You are doing it again!”

“What?” He lifted her against him, now both his palms pinching you bum.

“Barnes stop— ouch!”

“Liar,” he tapped your bottom. “I’m barely squeezing.”

You chuckled. “Well stop teasing my ass and watch the movie.”

“I’d rather watch you”, he drawled, his deep blue eyes gazing at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You are such a flirt.”

“Only with you.”

“Shut up, and have some chocolate,” you said sweetly, pressing a the sweet piece to his mouth.

He consumed it and in a sudden move, he flipped you over, your back colliding with the couch, him pressing between your legs. “I’d rather have something even sweeter.”

You gasped at the feel of him against your core. “What is it you want exactly?”

He caught your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth. “Want to have you for Halloween. Want my sweet girl and her pretty little pussy. Will you give it to me, sweets?”

“Hmm… as if you have to ask…” you said in between wet kisses. “More, please… James…”

“I know baby, I’ve got you.”

And with that, he worked on removing your clothes, tugging at the Halloween pajamas, dragging at your underwear till there was nothing left but your smooth skin exposed to his eyes. He grasped your knees and steered them wide apart, leaning down to enjoy the view. Creamy thighs, and in between was the most pretty, pink puffy cunt begging for attention.

He licked his lips and with a low growl, he descended upon your mound, his teeth nibbling at the fat pussy lips before flicking his tongue around your clit. You threw your head back and threaded your hands through his hair, grinding your pussy against his face. He moaned his approval and thrust two warm fingers inside you, while teasing your clit with the metal one.

A few more thrusts and you keened, shook, and came apart with long-drawn moans. He didn’t stop teasing you, he fucked you with his fingers, moving up to devour your nipples, causing a series of less intense orgasms to rock through you. With a victorious grin, he left one last kiss on your pussy lips and cupped your face.

“My pretty pussy has the sweetest taste. Better than any candy.”

He claimed your mouth and you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Your hands traveled along his strong body, caressing his broad shoulders before traveling low to slip down his pants along with his boxers. He cooperated and tossed everything off and pressed his hot, raging hard body against you.

Pinning your hands above your head, he grabbed his fat cock and tapped it on your pussy lips. You watched as he rubbed the pulsing shaft until it coated in your juices, teasing you by thrusting the cockhead inside your little slit before drawing back. With a whine, you canted your hips, begging him in a series of whines and murmurs.

Cupping under your knees, he spread your legs and thrust forward, watching as you small slit was forced open by his dick. You both moaned at the sensations and once he was seated to the hilt you needed a few moments to adjust to the invasion. You always did. He was so big and thick, yet you both fit perfectly together.

After a few seconds, he puked back, his dick flushing with your arousal and slammed back in. You saw stars. He slowly did it again, his eyes fixed on your pretty cunt. He drew back till all his length was out, the pushed in, his swollen balls squeezed against your ass.

And then he pounded inside you, claiming your very soul.

Clutching your waist, he went faster, his mouth devouring your nipples while you clung to his shoulders for dear life and floated higher and higher. You shut your eyes tightly and came undone, your walls clenching hard around him. He followed almost immediately, delving to the hilt and shooting ropes of cum inside you. You felt his release, every pump that flooded your pussy and overflowed, dripping down your thighs.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he set you to lay on your side, cuddling you from behind, his still hard cock lodged deep within you. He kissed your lips and swallowed back your moans of pleasure, sucking your nipples and cupping your breasts in his hands. You relaxed into him, your body full and spent.

“We should watch the rest of the movie now,” he said in an absolutely serious tone.

You half-laughed. “We missed most of it.”

He kissed her head with a grin. “Are you complaining?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I think I’m gonna love celebrating Halloween.”

Grinning, you looked at him. “When did you turn into such a sex monster?”

“When you started making me feel alive again. You did that, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and added, “Now watch the movie while I enjoy my Halloween treats.”

“What—” you didn’t manage to let out another word and moaned instead when he leaned down to kiss around your flushed breasts.

“James—”

“The movie, darling,” he said and gently thrust his cock, reminding you that he remained rock hard inside you.

“One day, your stamina will be the end of me,” you groaned as he moved against you, his hands, mouth and delicious length of him inside you teasing you to another orgasm. He ended up fucking you until the credits rolled and you had no strength to do anything else but melt sweetly into his arms and enjoy his ministrations.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes no smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james barnes x reader #alpha bucky barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween smut

[marchsfreakshow]

Clingyness {Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader}

You're watching a horror movie with Tate, and he gets worried for you, so you decide to find a way to comfort him.

For my big sis @lilthbunny 💜

18+! Minors dni with this fic.

Warnings!: Oral (M receive), praise and praise, p n v, Sub!Tate, Dom!Reader, horror movie generalness, mommy kink, kind of ooc Tate, crud smut writing.

Tate and you were snuggled together, under a warm duvet, the rain was storming, making the atmosphere feel more and more like a cliche. But he was resting his cute head on your chest, an arm placed around your waist, as one of yours held his own waist. No one dared disturb you two today.

It was Halloween.

Despite Halloween being the day that ghosts could roam free, Tate wanted to watch a movie tonight. It made you happy anyway, too many parties and drunk rowdy teenagers. He agreed that it was a night to stay inside and watch Halloween movies. Snacks were on your lap and Tate's lap, with two hot chocolates on the bedside drawer. Nothing but the best for my princess, Tate thought, looking up at you. You were distracted by the movie. It was a movie you somehow had never seen.

The Banana Splits Movie.

The premise of it enticed your horror movie-loving heart. It was a scrapped Five Nights At Freddy's script, but the creator rejected it, so it was created as its own movie. A horror movie about killer animatronics that don't act like actual animatronics. Being you, you had to look up everything about the movie and even watched a YouTube video about it which counted the kills and went into detail about how the movie was made.

But, bringing you out of your thoughts was Tate cuddling himself up to you, like he was trying to get on top of you or in your skin. Either of them would be okay with him. "Baby, you okay?" You asked softly, petting Tate's hair. He looked up at you with a dark puppy eyes look and nodded towards the TV screen. A character had been sawn in half from Fleegles's magic box. His fiance, kneeling by his head, and crying, mourning her loss. It ended up scaring Tate, and his imagination was going crazy, worrying about what if that happened to you, or if any of the kills happened to you or him. Losing you in any way possible made Tate scared out of his mind. "Oh, Tate..."

"I like the movie, but I don't want to lose you like that."

"Baby boy, you know I'm smart enough to not get myself into a situation like that." You replied as Tate made a little 'mmh.' noise. Sighing, you kissed Tate, gently holding his face. He kissed you back, suddenly eager. As the movie carried in the background, both you and Tate carried on with a make-out session. The screams and general horror movie noises kept going, the light from the TV lighting your back as you were straddling your boyfriend's lap. It didn't distract you at all, considering something was distracting you instead. "how about I prove to you that I'm gonna be by your side forever yeah?" You quickly asked, sitting up. Tate nodded, smiling.

Both of you started to move to each other's wants and needs. Tate holding you at every angle possible, and you remove your clothes as well as Tate's. The duvet was the source of warmth, but you doubted you would need it in a second. So, while Tate was distracted by leaving hickeys over your chest and collarbones, you decided to grind on him and his exposed cock. Moved back and forth slowly, making sure he felt every part of it. He shook slightly with every moment, taking a grip on your waist and small, little whimpers leaving his mouth, and yours. The only other noises you heard were coming from the TV. Well, fuck the movie now, you thought, staring at the clingy, whimpering boy you were on top of. But, you stopped eventually, and the whimpers were left with sounds of Tate wanting you to grind more on his hard dick. Instead, you crawled down onto your stomach, holding yourself up with your elbows.

"You ready my darling?" You asked, pumping Tate painfully slowly.

"Please, please mommy.." With the whines Tate made, you kept on pumping him but licked the head of his dick, coating it in your own saliva with a mix of his pre-cum. You stared up at him, not wanting to show him any mercy, but he was so cute to you, humping your hand and his eyes rolling back. Just for being so cute, you praised your boyfriend by enveloping his head in your mouth, taking your time to go up and down, and attempting to hit every good spot you could find. Your hand slid up and down the last little bit of Tate's cock that you couldn't fit in your mouth, but he didn't seem to care as he kept thrusting in your mouth to all he liked. Quickly though, you stopped him and sat up, resting back on his cock lightly. "Mm fuck, mommy.. continue, please?"

"You're such a good boy, aren't you? Wanting me to do everything?" Tate nodded in reply as you leaned down, kissing and sucking his neck, small hickeys appearing everywhere. Tate clung onto you like he usually would, staring at you softly. "Mm, okay then, just for being such a good boy for mommy," You whispered in his ear, lining yourself up and lowering yourself on Tate's cock. He grabbed your hips immediately and unconsciously, ready to start thrusting. However, before he could start fucking you to the stars, you took his hands and pinned them to the bed's headboard with your own hands, using them as support as you started to move up and down. The feeling of going so slow made Tate want to start thrusting in you and making you feel good like he had plenty of times before.

Both of you started thrusting, which in turn almost made you see stars. Tate's more needy, but it felt so good either way. "Oh f-fuck I love you.." He muttered, his breathing heavy, and his hands gripping yours as they were still pinned above his head.

"I love, you too my cutie." Thoughts of edging Tate ran around your empty, desperate mind as you could sense he was close. The extra whines, calling your name out more, trying to snuggle into your neck. You decided that you should, so you let go of his hands. But just as you did, Tate pulled you down and stopped you thrusting, confusing you. "p..pup what are you doing-" you interrupted yourself with almost scream-like moans as Tate did nothing but thrust up and hard, you were unable to control yourself as you clung to him, and came as fast as you blinked.

Tate soon realised that, and stopped. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I went too hard." You got up despite being shaky and laid beside Tate, catching your breath. Both he and you took your drinks, drinking the now lukewarm hot chocolate.

After you had enough drink to suffice, you put it back and smiled at Tate. "I'm okay, were you close?" In which he nodded. "C'mon, on top of me baby." He grinned, moving on top of you and immediately re-entering you. He started sloppily thrusting again, you clinging to him again as he hit everything right where it felt good.

Only a few minutes went by before, "mommy...fuck fuck, mommy-"

"Cum."

Tate cummed inside you, still holding onto you as he rode it out best he could. Both of you reached for the towel that was placed sort of intentionally by your bed and cleaned each other up. "I'm so proud of you baby boy, I love you."

"I love you Y/N." Tate kissed your nose gently, putting the duvet on top of you both, getting comfy again. By now the movie was three-quarters done, but you still watched it, cosying back up with Tate being in your arms.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Taglist: @taintandviolent @howtobesasha @hyperharlz @tatelangdonsweater

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #smut #ahs murder house #murder house #ahs x reader #fem reader #evan peters smut #evan peters x you #x reader #halloween #halloween smut #langdon #reader insert #x reader fics #american horror story murder house

[goldenbuckyyy]

BAD THINGS

Summary: You’re the head cheerleader and you fuck Eddie Munson in a bathroom at a Halloween party.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1kish

Warnings: SMUT(!!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, raw sex, cream pie, shameless smut between two 18 year olds (seniors in HS), set in the s4 universe. Anything else? Let me know!!

A/N: Just because I wanted to write a Halloween fic for the spooky season! 🫶🏻🎃Song inspo: “Bad Things” by Jace Everett.

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Masterlist

Your head hits the glass mirror behind you hard as you grip onto the head in between your thighs, a loud moan crawling out of your throat, and you feel him move away from your core. 

You look down, panting, mouth parted, and feeling high. “Why’d you stop?” You question with a pout. Your body feels hot and euphoric. You don’t want this to end, but you know it’s barely beginning. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Princess.” He says with a smirk as he proceeds to bite and suck on your right thigh. Leaving bright red marks as he makes his way into your inner thigh, fingers dancing along the fullest part of your hip. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” you stumble out as you let out a gasp when his tongue licks your folds as his baby chocolate brown eyes, rimmed with smugged eyeliner, lock with yours. He’s teasing you, slowly, and he smirks again up at you. 

“Don’t worry, Princess. I know what this is,” he states as he slips another finger into you which causes you to buckle your hips up at him, your hands gripping onto the pale yellow countertops now. 

“Good,” you declare as you close your eyes to allow yourself to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel right now. 

His head slips back to your core and his mouth latches onto your wet area. His fingers slipping in and out of you so easily from how drenched you are. His lips wrapping over your clit so sensitively and passionately. He sucks your clit in between his lips, which causes your legs to convulse around him from the electricity that rushes through you, and his free hand clenches your thigh to hold you down. 

“Oh my god,” you cry out over the loud music outside the bathroom door. You truthfully can’t believe you’re doing this right now. 

With Eddie fucking Munson. 

But fuck, you’d be lying if you said you never thought about what he’d look like in between your thighs or about how you imagined what his curls would feel like in between your fingers. 

And now you know exactly how it feels. 

“Holy shit,” you sputter out as you feel your lower belly starting to build up with your impending pleasure. You look down to watch his head bobble in between your thighs, your red dress bundled up on your hips, breasts exposed with your nipples hard against the cold air, and you watch him as you feel your orgasm nearing. 

Moans fall out from your lips, your hands moving to intertwine into his curls, tugging gently, reveling in pride when he moans against your core, and your hips start moving against his mouth. 

His fingers speed up in you, which makes your thighs clench harder around him, trying to catch your orgasm, and once it does… you let out the loudest moan of the night. Head tilting back, ears ringing, hitting the mirror loudly, fingers pulling his hair, and your entire body is shaking with pleasure. 

Your orgasm overtakes your body and he can only admire you as he sucks on your clit, still moving his fingers in and out of your tight pussy.  

Once you come down from your orgasm and your vision isn't blurry anymore, you fall limp against the mirror. Your loud panting fills the room as Eddie pulls away from your core, fingers slipping out of you, and he keeps eye contact with you as he sucks them dry. 

He licks them casually as if this isn’t the first time he’s done this with you and it drives you mad. 

You bite your lip at the sight, smiling slightly, and rest your hands against your chest. You reach over to him to thumb over the witness you left on his chin and suck your thumb into your mouth with a moan. 

“Fuck, you’re hot.” 

He’s smirking at you, full of pride at how hard he made you cum, and his eyes take in your naked body in front of him. 

“Like what you see?” You tease as you spread your legs wide open, feeling the cold chill run over you, and you tap your fingernails on the counter top when he gets distracted by your actions. 

He looks away from your core, palming himself over his jeans, and meets your eyes once more. 

“Fuck yeah. The head cheerleader spread wide open in front of me? Only for me? Fuck yeah, I do.” 

Honestly, Eddie doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful. He’s been with other girls, of course he has, he isn’t some innocent virgin. But fuck him if he says he doesn’t feel like one right now. 

He watches your pretty legs spread wide open, your fishnet thighs ripped open around your core from when he ripped them apart earlier, small tiny red bites spread over your soft thighs from his mouth, your exposed breasts in all your glory, your perky nipples hard, and the silk dress he had hastily pilled down and up is now resting against your hips. 

Your long red nails are tapping against the countertop as you watch him watching you, but he only looks mesmerized. His eyes take in the features of your face as if it’s the first time he’s really looking at you. Your pouty red tinted covered lips are smeared because of the make out session earlier, your cheeks are flushed, and your long hair is falling down your back. Your horns are still intact on top of your head and Eddie swears you’re the prettiest devil he’s ever seen. 

His eyes go back down to your pussy and he almost moans out loud when he sees her. Your pretty pussy spread out from him, waiting for him to do something, and he feels his hard cock pulsating from underneath his jeans. He wonders if he’ll remember this moment forever. He tries to imprint this picture in his memory. 

Suddenly, he feels your leg against his naked chest right next to his spider tattoo. His shirt has been discarded on the floor since you both entered the bathroom, he feels your bright red heel sink into his skin, and he hisses from the feeling. 

He smirks at you when your eyes meet his, he gently cups your ankle in his hand, pulls your leg up to kiss your calf, and you smirk back at him. 

“Come on, Munson. I don’t have all night,” you joke as you reach for his belt to unclasp it. 

He lets you, pushes his hips towards you for easy access as you jerk off his belt, tossing it to the floor, and unbuttoning his black jeans. You bite your bottom lip as you unzip them, leaning over the counter to pull them down in a swift motion. Taking his boxers down as well. 

His thick cock bounces up and down from the fast movement. Your eyes go wide when you finally see him, you look up at him, and he’s already smiling cockily. 

“Good enough?”

“Depends if you know how to use it,” you reply with a teasing tone in your voice and he raises his eyebrow in a challenge. 

Both of his hands grip your thighs, his pretty eyes lock with yours, and you lick your lips as you give him a drunk wink. 

He shakes his head with a chuckle and slowly starts tugging off his jeans with his feet, tossing them to the side. You lean back down towards the mirror, your pussy pulsating with anticipation, and pure desperation. You stare at his cock, your mouth watering at the sight of him, and his tip is already leaking with precum. 

Eddie moves himself to your center, his big hands still on your thighs, and he aligns his hard cock with your entrance. He doesn’t even have to hold himself steady from how hard he is. 

Your thighs spread easily for him as the tip of his cock moves up and down your folds, soaking up your wetness, soft moans escaping your sweet lips, and his fingers run up and down your thighs. 

“You want me?” He asks you in a whisper. Almost sounding insecure. Your hands immediately going to his neck, pulling him down to your eye level, and his eyes meet yours instantly. 

You nod at him, kissing his pouty lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you reach down to wrap your fingers around his length, and Eddie almost convulses when he feels your hand wrapped around him. 

He moans loudly into your mouth which only allows you to deepen the kiss as you rub his cock in between your folds again. Eddie almost feels as if he’s going to explode as his cock is rubbing against your hot, deliciously warm pussy. Waiting for him. Aching for him. 

You center him into your opening, adjusting your hips to his, and once Eddie feels your opening against his cock, he pushes into you. 

As he pushes into your tight hole, you feel yourself stretching around him. Your pussy to accommodate his size. Your hands are trying to grasp onto every part of his skin, trying to feel closer to him, and he’s doing the same. 

You both moan into each other’s mouths, eyes closed, tongues dancing together, and he bottoms out inside your drenched pussy. 

You’re both panting loudly now, your tight walls clenching around his thick cock, and Eddie grips onto your waist to hold you steady as your hips try to move against him. 

“Easy, Princess.” He whispers into you as he pulls away from your lips, leaving you wanting more of his mouth. 

Eddie feels as if he could cum right then and there from how heavenly you pussy feels around him. He can feel you throbbing and he groans out loud. 

“You okay?” He croaks out as you nod rapidly, wanting him to move inside of you already. 

He slowly moves, feeling you out, and bites his bottom lip as you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters out, sweat coating the back of his neck as he tries not to cum, and his hands tighten on your hips. The feeling of being inside you is almost indescribable to him. The best pussy he’s ever had. 

His hips slowly start to move in and out of you, your fingertips digging into his forearms, and your head is tilted back in pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking tight. You feel so fucking warm around my dick,” he whispers to you as he continues to thrust, “H-hooolyyy s-shit,” his speed increasing, head tilting back as he bites his lips, and your pussy is taking him so good. So fucking good. It makes him feel as if he’s in heaven. This can’t be real. 

Your whines increase at the same speed as his thrusts. Your head repeatedly hits the mirror, but you can’t even allow yourself to care right now. 

Because you’re finally getting fucked by Eddie Munson. 

Your hands reach to hold onto his shoulders as he fucks your pussy in a rapid pace, his hips moving against yours roughly, and your hips moving with him to allow him to go in deeper. 

His curls are falling down over his face, his lips are formed into a smirk as he watches you fall apart underneath him, and he fumbles out praises. 

“You’re so fucking sexy.” 

“Head cheerleader with the best pussy I’ve ever had.” 

“You’re taking me so fucking good.”

He reaches down to lick and suck each of your nipples which makes your skin erupt into goosebumps. Your abdomen tightening once again as you start feeling the familiar feeling of your orgasm. 

He kisses you quickly before he pulls away again, leaving your lips reaching out to him, and he moves one of his hands towards your core. 

His thumb finds your swollen clit and puts gentle pressure against it. You cry out at the feeling, your breasts bouncing against your chest as his thrusts increase, and his thumb only follows the pace. 

You adjust your hips once more, wrapping your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together behind his back, and pulling him into you. 

His movements don’t falter at the change of position, he only continues to pleasure you, and you push yourself up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. You bring his face towards you and roughly kiss his open mouth. 

He moans into you as his free hand grips onto the curve of your back. One of your hands is behind his neck and the other wrapped around his shoulders. Open mouth kissing, tongues playing together, and both panting loudly. Your lips feel swollen against his, but you can’t even manage to stop. 

Your body starts shaking slightly from your impending orgasm and it’s as if Eddie already knows your body so well. He doesn’t stop his rhythm, his thrusts still hitting you deep and filling you up so good. 

He pulls away from your lips, his hand moves from your lower back, and he grips your chin in his palm. You’re feeling drunk on his dick and you know you must look it because he groans when your eyes meet his own. 

He looks absolutely fucked. 

But then suddenly, he slips two of his fingers into your mouth. You instantly react by moaning loudly and sucking his digits. 

Then his thumb increases speed slightly against your clit which triggers your orgasm. 

Your legs tighten around his waist, pussy clenching against his cock, and your mouth falling wide open with a withering pleasure filled scream. Your legs are shaking around him as he follows your release. 

Loud slick noises fill the room with your yell, his loud groan of release falling into the sound, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can feel him coating the inside of your walls with his warm cum. Filling you up to the brim. 

Your body melts into his as you relax from your incredible orgasm and his thrusts start slowing down, his cock slowly softening inside of you, and his fingers slip out of your mouth. 

His hand eases itself behind your neck and his lips are against yours. He kisses you softly which makes your insides melt. You feel heat in the pit of your stomach. 

The way he’s kissing you feels the way a man would kiss his lover. Not a random secret hookup at a Halloween party. But you can’t help it. You match his pace and reciprocate the kiss with softness. His wet lips move against yours. One of his hands is gripping your neck, but he isn’t rough or hard. Only soft. 

His other hand cups your face to hold you close and you almost feel like you might burst right then and there from how intimate this feels. 

Your hands reach out for the closest piece of his skin and you land on his waist. Touching his skin with your fingertips, you feel him break out into goosebumps, and he chuckles into your kiss. 

You pull away with a giggle, you slap his chest lightly, “Why are you laughing?” 

You swear you can see a twinkle in his eyes as he watches you, biting his lower lip, his eyes taking you in, cheeks flushes, hair a mess, and he starts reaching for some toilet paper. 

“Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all,” his husky voice filling the loud room with ease. 

It’s quiet as you both clean up after he hands you some toilet paper. You scavenge the drawers for wipes and smile triumphantly when you find them, giving Eddie a big grin, and he only follows your giggles. 

You suddenly feel shy as you both clean up next to each other. You feel your cheeks flushing. You adjust your dress back into its rightful position, fixing your breasts, and getting confused as to where your red thong had landed. 

You peer down to the floor, into the corner of the toilet, and huff when you can’t find them. 

You watch Eddie from the corner of your eyes, he’s zipping up his jeans, and smirking down at you. 

You turn to look at him, raising your eyebrows, and smacking teeth together. “Do you have them?“ 

He licks his lips, “Have what, sweetheart?” He teases. 

You roll your eyes, turning back into the mirror to fix your hair, but keeping your eyes on him. Watching him as he shoves his hand into his back pocket and pulls out your tiny thong that honestly barely even covers anything but you still wanted to be a little modest. 

He holds your thong by the string on his index finger, “S’this what you’re looking for?” 

You try to be fast and snach it away from him, but he’s too quick for you. 

He immediately puts the thong in his fist behind his back as you shove your entire weight into him. 

You push him against the wooden walls loudly and he laughs loudly, his head hitting the back wall, and he shakes his head as you demand he hands them to you. 

“Finders keepers, Princess.” He says as his thumb is on your chin with a loose grip, he winks at you, and kisses your lips in a peck. 

You stand there with your mouth agape because you can’t believe he’s actually stealing your panties. 

He shoves on his ripped up t-shirt and jean jacket, ruffling his hair in the mirror, and wiping away the excess of your lipstick on his face. 

“Can’t let anybody be suspicious, right?” 

“Right,” you breathe out. You feel memorized right now. Not knowing what to say or do at this moment. It feels almost surreal. 

He kisses you again and you almost buckle, knees feeling weak when his hands grip your waist, and then he pulls away before you can deepen the kiss. 

You whine slightly at the loss of contact and you hear him open the door behind him, you watch him carefully as you fix the hem of your dress, and before he walks away.. he looks at you again. 

“We should do this again,” he says over the loud music blasting fully now behind him as he locks eyes with you. You can see a few people in the hallways trying not to look at you guys. 

“In your dreams,” you automatically reply to him. Your mouth working before your brain. 

He smirks at your comment as he lets his eyes travel down your body one more time. 

You want to kiss him again. 

“I’ll see you in them, sweetheart.” 

And with that he turns on his boots and closes the door behind him. 

You take a minute to calm down and wrap your mind around what just happened. 

A small giggle bursts out of your lips, your hand immediately flying to cover it, and you break out into a cheesy grin. 

You back up into the wall, butterflies erupting in your belly, and you look up at the ceiling with a smile. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

#eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut imagine #Eddie munson #eddie munson smut oneshot #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #Stranger things s4 #au #badthingsAU #SMUT #Halloween smut #Eddie munson writing

[manifestobackshot]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Jake Halloween special ;)

content: alcohol, unprotected sex…

—

Fucking frat boy Jake during a Halloween party would be so fucking hot. He’d see you in the crowd for the first time when things start up, his gaze lingering on you before you get lost in the crowd.

So, when you pass by him later on, he tells his bros, “wait I’ll catch up with you later, gotta go…” He snakes his way through the crowd, following shortly behind you before he’s able to stop you, resting himself against your backside.

Before you know it, you’re face to face with him, lips connecting in a drunken kiss. His hands roam your body, the others in the crowd forcing you two to be chest-to-chest. He doesn’t even know your name, nor do you know his. He tastes like cheap vodka and he smells like musky cologne. You’re just making out with a hot ass cowboy, and you’re loving it.

The brimmed cowboy hat obstructs his face from the frat lighting, but you can still see his lips and his smile. As you pull away, his lips are swollen from kissing you. He leans in, whispering, “would you like to take this elsewhere?”

He’s in-between your legs, hiking up your skirt to your waist before pulling your panties to the side and pumping his middle finger into you. Jake’s cowboy hat is around his neck, so you can see his eyebrows furrow as he feels how wet and warm you are. Intoxicated, you can’t help but to show how good he’s making you feel as he begins to pump his ring finger into you. You moan and Jake asks, “how does it feel, baby?”

“So, so good… You make me feel so good…”

Fuck, what’s his name? You pause.

“Mm?” Jake responds, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips.

“No just, what should I call you?”

“Call me whatever you want tonight.”

And with that, a man you don’t know is between your legs pumping his fingers in and out of you. Jake’s tongue is practically down your throat, enabling you to taste the alcohol on his breath. His breath is hot on your skin, one hand on your back to support you as he stretches you out with his fingers.

Suddenly, your lips meet the cold air as Jake’s plush lips are absent from yours. His fingers retract from you and he takes a step back. You can hear the clank of his belt coming undone, his zipper coming down, and the shuffle of his feet as he nestles himself back in between your legs.

The absence of his touch leaves you throbbing and aching for more, and you can tell he feels the same. He desperately wants you, lust running through his body. He has never wanted anyone more than this moment. You peer downwards, Jake’s length aching against the fabric of his boxer briefs, begging to be released from his waistband.

He leans in, breath fogged with alcohol and asks, “will you let me fuck you, baby?”

“Yes, god, fuck yes,” you eagerly reply, pulling him in by his nape and connecting with a sloppy, passionate kiss. As you pull away, he’s pumping himself with one hand as he lines himself up at your entrance, tip flushed and leaking with desire.

Jake groans and bites his bottom lip to prevent a string of drunken curses from leaving his mouth as he pushes into you, warm, plush walls wrapping around his length. As he bottoms out, he pulls you closer to connect in a drunken kiss before pulling his length out to begin fucking into you. His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol impairing his ability to keep a steady pace and a clear head.

His lips are swollen from making out with you, and a thin layer of sweat veils him as he continues to fuck into you. You thank god for the loud music outside, or else everyone would have known how fucking good Sim Jaeyun was making you feel. You leave none of your pleasure to his imagination, allowing strings of curses and moans to fall from your mouth as they please.

There’s nothing Jake wants to do more than to cum inside you. Fucking a stranger at a frat party was crazy enough, but fucking a hot stranger was something else.

As he feels himself approaching orgasm, he asks, “baby, are you gonna let me cum inside?”

The moment you slightly nod, he begins to fuck you deeper and faster, chasing climax. Jake can feel his tip ramming against your cervix before he shoots his seed deep into you, pulling out with a pop once it’s all over.

Heavy breaths, loud music, and clanging of his belt buckle. You’re both sobering up a bit. Jake comes in between you again and plants a kiss on your lips before cleaning up his mess from between your legs.

As you two finish up, he leans into you to whisper, “By the way, my name’s Jake.”

—

admin monkey

#admin monkey #enhypen smut #enhypen #jake enhypen #jake smut #enhypen imagines #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun #jake sim #halloween #i’m actually delirious right now #halloween smut #frat boy jake

[sweetercalypso]

Knife’s Edge || Abby Anderson

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: when reader gets lost inside a haunted house, ghostface!Abby takes her to the backroom

Notes: part one in my week of horror series! minors dni; brief dubcon, knife play, throat holding, fingering, dom!Abby wearing a strap under her costume, sex against a wall, afab reader

Scary stories and sleazy horror films had never been something you enjoyed, so you’re not sure why you’d agreed to tag along when your friends invited you to a haunted house hosted in a bleak, abandoned building sitting at the edge of town.

As soon as you walked through the doors, you knew you’d made a mistake. Gory backdrops, clown-faced actors, fake bodies hanging out of coffins – you found a reason to shield your face lurking around every corner. Your friends had shrieked with laughter and pulled you along with them, but you couldn’t keep up with their excited pace, dragging your feet and lagging far behind the group.

Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time with your hands covering your eyes, you would’ve known you were headed down the wrong hallway, straying further away from your friends with each blind step. When you look up to find yourself stranded in the empty darkness, you chastise yourself for coming to a haunted house in the first place.

Tonight would’ve been better if you’d just stayed home.

When you realize that the noise and the commotion of the tour have all but faded into the distance, your heart leaps into your throat. There’s something about the silence that doesn’t seem right.

A rising panic overwhelms your senses as you look around for anything that might tell you where you are. Your friends are all gone, and so are the actors and the gruesome scenes that had been guiding you through the halls. Is it worse to be scared or to be hanging in suspense?

The sudden shuffle of footsteps floods your lungs with relief. You speed up to follow after the sound, only briefly stopping to consider how humiliating it is to be this frightened by a rundown building full of cheap decor.

“Excuse me! Hey-”

You grab the person’s shoulder with a trembling hand, no longer concerned with keeping your dignity intact. They can laugh at you all they want as long as they can lead you to the exit.

When the stranger turns around, you let out a small noise of surprise. She’s tall and brawny under her costume, and the tips of her boots peak out from the bottom of the black sheet of fabric she’s cloaked in.

The mask covering her face is shaped into a ghoulish, twisted scream, just like the one from those cheesy slasher movies you’d never managed to sit through. Even the prop knife she wields at her side is unnervingly sinister.

You pull your hand back and turn your attention to the mesh covering her eyes, hoping for a glimpse of the person underneath.

“Do you work here?”

She cocks her head to the side, silent.

“Look,” you sputter. “I just got separated from my friends, can you help me or not?”

A group of muffled voices erupt from somewhere in the house, a mess of laughter and gasps and thrilled shrieks of artificial terror. You feel her eyes raking over you before she bobs her head and motions for you to follow.

“Come with me.”

The walk through the hallway is quiet beyond the eerie music playing on a loop and the sound of her steps over the creaking floorboards. Cardboard cutouts and tarped sheets of plastic block out the light from the windows and you’d struggle to follow her trail if it weren’t for the occasional flash of her white mask looking at you over her shoulder.

She leads you through a maze of intersecting hallways before finally stopping in front of a door marked with gaudy caution tape and a formal ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign tacked in the middle. She guides you inside with a hand flattened against your lower back and a warmth licks up your spine from her easy touch.

She follows in behind you and shuts the door, and you’re suddenly aware that she’d taken you beyond the part of the house marked off for guests.

Overloaded boxes and bins of leftover decorations are scattered around the room, a collection of undead odds and ends stuffed into every corner. It’s too crowded and too uncanny for your liking.

You turn to look at the quiet stranger with wide eyes, heart hammering in your chest.

“Why are we here?”

She’s silent for a moment before she grabs you by the waist and wraps her arms around you, pressing her face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you scared?”

You shudder as her cold plastic mask connects with your skin. Standing this close, you can hear her heavy breath contorted by her disguise, feel the rise and fall of her chest pressed against your back.

The kitchen knife gleams against your hip where her hand gropes for purchase. In the darkened hallway, it’d seemed like a cheap, flimsy prop to match her crude costume, but in here, there’s just enough light to catch the metallic luster of the blade’s sharp edge.

She seems to follow the trail of your downcast gaze because she runs the flat side of her knife up the length of your torso with an amused hum.

“Don’t worry,” she taunts in an overly cloying voice. “You won’t feel a thing.”

Her grip is loose enough that you could break free if you wanted, but you’re too flustered by the heat pooling in your belly to try. You wriggle in her grasp and unintentionally move your hips into hers, gasping when the tip of the blade digs into your side.

“Ah- careful with that thing.”

She laughs dryly and drags the steel up to rest in the valley of your breasts. “I think you like a little pain.”

Without a warning, she spins you around so that you’re sandwiched between her form and the wall, cheek pressed roughly against the cracked, yellowing paint.

“You feel that?” She grinds against the curve of your backside, revealing the hard plastic bulge underneath her costume. “S’my cock, baby. You gonna take it like a good girl?”

You whimper at the harsh treatment and the thought of what’s to come. When you take too long to work up a reply, she wraps a hand around your throat, delicate but forceful enough that you’re aware of her underlying strength.

“I asked you a question.”

Honeyed slick coats the apex of your thighs as you squirm in place, practically thrumming with adrenaline and a feeling you can’t name. You’ve always hated scary movies, but living through one is turning out to be much more of a thrill.

“Yes,” you pant with a shaky nod. “Please, yes. Just fuck me.”

Her knife clatters to the floor beside your feet and you flinch at the shrill noise. The hand around your throat is gone, disappearing somewhere behind you as she bunches the fabric of her costume around her waist.

You chance a look over your shoulder in hopes of catching a glimpse of her form without the curtain of fabric blocking the view, and you’re met with the sight of her harness digging into her hips, leading below the waistband of her black cotton boxers.

A sliver of bare skin is visible between the dregs of her cloak and the hem of her underwear, accentuating the smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval. The muscles of her thighs flex as she pulls the length of her strap from its confines.

She reaches around to unbutton your jeans and tug the material down your legs, careless of the way your hips jerk from the force of her strength. When her fingers prod at your entrance and she slides her fake cock between your thighs, your palms flatten against the wall to keep yourself from crumpling over in bliss.

“S’that feel good?” Her thumb swipes at your clit in fast, messy circles while two thick digits part your velvety walls.

Little sighs and puffs of air are all you can manage as a response. Her fingers curl at the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, and you think you could manage to come like this if she kept at it for even a minute longer.

To your disappointment, she frees her fingers before you can reach your peak, and you push back against her with a whine of protest.

She doesn’t seem to appreciate your breathy complaint, because she shoves your hips back against the wall with a bitter force that makes you gasp at the impact.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Her masked face peaks over your shoulder, creeping into your peripheral with an unblinking, static gaze.

You feel the tip of her cock nudge against your weeping entrance, sleek plastic rubbing against your skin just like the pale visage resting against your cheek. She drives her cock into you in one fluid motion, grunting as her hips slam into yours.

“Fuck-” you choke out a breathless, eager sound as she gives an experimental thrust against your backside.

Her broad figure envelops you completely as she grinds her cock into your slick cunt, agonizingly slow until she decides you’re ready for more. She’s everywhere all at once – a blur of heavy-handed touches over your hips and your chest. You can’t decide whether you’d like to push your breasts into the cradle of her palms or to contort yourself into the hollow of her frame in search of more pleasure.

“mmh- please, faster,” you beg, brows pinched together with the effort of keeping still like she’d asked.

“Yeah?” She picks up a bit of speed and returns her fingers to your clit. “Too cock drunk to be scared anymore?”

You nod along with what she’s saying, too focused on the tension twisting in your gut to pay attention to her words. You’d agree to anything as long as she kept moving.

A minute passes and you’re teetering at the edge of your release. She seems to notice, adding pressure to your clit and grinding her cock into you as far as it’ll go.

“That’s it,” she pants. “Come for me.”

The tension inside of you snaps and you shudder through your release with a choked sob and a silent thanks to the stranger holding you up. Your walls cling to her slick length as you come around her cock, heaving a shaky breath into the quiet, cramped room.

After a few more greedy thrusts and swipes over your sensitive clit, she stills inside of you and presses her mouth to your shoulder, almost like she’s kissing you through the plastic mold covering her face.

With a content flush crawling up your cheeks, you turn to look at her in the dim lighting. “You could’ve taken the mask off, y’know.”

She laughs wryly and shakes her head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

#sweetercalypso’s week of horror #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #ghostface!Abby Anderson #ghostface!au #the last of us x reader #abby the last of us #tlou #abby anderson drabble #tlou x reader #the last of us smut #kinktober #halloween smut #ghostface #dom!abby

[illusioninfnty]

day 27 ; cuckolding

↠ michael myers x reader

fandom: halloween word count: 1.2k warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, forced exhibitionism, slight fingering, no prep, unprotected sex, creampie, reader gets the ick, murder (not of reader)

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

When you told your boyfriend that you thought that Michael Myers had been stalking you for the past week or so, he laughed in your face and called you crazy.

But you knew you weren’t crazy, despite what he told you. You saw the man everywhere you went—his shape so clearly defined that you knew you couldn’t be dreaming him up. 

He followed you to your college classes, to the supermarket, and even when you went back to your hometown for a weekend to see if you could get away. But no, wherever you went, Michael followed.

When you tried to describe in detail to your boyfriend all of this, telling him the specific places that you saw Michael at, and how no one else seemed to notice him.

He brushed you off, and told you that you needed to up your meds.

Now, you lay in bed with him. You haven’t been able to sleep the past few days because of Michael following you. Your boyfriend doesn’t have a care in the world, his arm strewn sloppily across your body as he snores away. Every sound that comes out of his mouth pisses you off more than the next.

Until you turn to face away from him, and towards your door. But you still can’t close your eyes, because of what you can make out with the glimpses of moonlight that peeks in through your cheap curtains.

The shape of Michael Myers was in your door frame.

He looks as he does every time you see him—imposing, looming, and all-consuming. He holds his knife clenched in a large fist. Oddly enough, he holds rope in his other hand. But there’s something else that’s different about him this time.

Michael stands in front of you, and there’s no hiding the erection in his coveralls. It stretches the fabric, and there’s no hiding how hard he is, even if he wanted to.

You know exactly why he’s here now. And you allow it all to happen. You stare ahead at Michael, and don’t make a sound. Not even in fear. Rather, you had a morbid curiosity (despite the inkling in the back of your mind) of what Michael was going to do.

He doesn’t approach you, though. He makes his way over to the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend sleeps, clueless to the danger that awaits him.

Michael grips your boyfriend by the back of his neck, pulls him out from under the covers, and throws his body across the room as if he weighed absolutely nothing. You hunker down under the comforter as your boyfriend wakes up, and starts screaming when he sees the Shape standing in front of him.

He calls out for help. He calls your name, and you can hear the tears in his voice. But you don’t do anything. You lay there and stare, peeking through your own cocoon. Michael ties him up, feet first and then his arms are behind his back, and soon he’s completely bound in a way where he’s unable to move and escape to alert someone.

Michael strides over to you, and you make no move to avoid him. He pulls the covers off of you. Your nightshirt is torn off your body, your breasts exposed to the cool air of the room, nipples pebbling from the sensation. Next come your sleep shorts and underwear, which Michael tears off with ease.

You lay there completely bare in front of Michael Myers, and your boyfriend is cursing through his sobs as he lay in the corner of the bedroom.

Michael sticks his fingers inside of you. Not for your pleasure though, but rather a sort of exploration for him. His fingers wiggle inside of you, curling in certain spots that have you jolting against his hand.

He removes his clothes, his hard cock on full display. It pulses as he approaches you, and without any sort of warning he takes his fingers out and replaces it with his cock.

Choked gasps leave your mouth through the sudden intrusion. You weren’t nearly anywhere close to ready for him, and the meaty size of Michael’s length doesn’t give you any sort of ease when adjusting.

He ruts in and out of you with vigor, his balls slapping against your pussy as he grabs onto your hips and thrusts.

You slap your hands against your mouth to try and conceal the moans of pain, and you’re positive that the liquid you feel along your walls as Michael’s cock moves in and out of you is blood.

Your back involuntarily arches as Michael’s hold lifts you off the bed, your head lolling backwards as his thrusts continue through your cries of protest.

As you turn your head to look at your boyfriend, you can’t help the wave of disgust that washes over you seeing him in the position he’s in. He looks pathetic and weak, and it just reminds you of all the times he made fun of you when you were freaking out over being followed, or whenever he chooses his video games over comforting you whenever you suffer from a panic attack.

It has you realizing that no, you don’t really feel sorry for him for where he’s at. Maybe if he actually listened to you for once he wouldn’t have ended up tied up on the floor, having to watch his girlfriend get fucked by the guy who’s most likely going to kill him once he’s done.

Once the guilt you felt over allowing yourself to be fucked by Michael in front of your boyfriend is lifted off your shoulders, it’s like all the pleasure you refused to feel kicks in at once.

Michael’s cock fills you up completely, more than your boyfriend’s ever did. Through the stinging sensation inside you, you focus on the way Michael pounds into you with so much force you can barely think straight. It has you close to your orgasm, something your boyfriend has never been able to accomplish in all the years you’ve been together.

“Fuck you!” Your boyfriend cries out from his corner. His yells are silenced by your load moans as Michael fucks himself into you. “What the fuck,” comes his response to it in a whisper.

“Michael! I’m cumming! Oh God, I’m cumming!”

Strangled cries come from your boyfriend as he attempts to free himself from the rope. “You fucking sicko!”

You weren’t sure if he was referring to you or Michael.

With one last shuddering groan, you cum around Michael’s cock, clenching your walls tightly around him. You spasm with the pleasure that takes over your body.

Michael’s orgasm comes only seconds after yours. He makes no sound as the warmth of his release fills you up inside, the excess liquids spilling onto your sheets below.

He drops you on the bed, and you let out an oof sound as you plop onto the plush mattress. You lift your head up in enough time to see Michael pick up his knife again, approach your sniveling boyfriend and stab him, over and over again, until his cries are silenced and his body is completely still.

And then just like all the other times before, Michael completely vanishes. The only trace of him is your boyfriend’s mutilated body draining of blood, leaking slowly just like the cum that spills out of you.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #slasher x reader #slasher smut #halloween x reader #halloween smut

[blueberryarchive]

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses. 

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy. 

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it. 

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time. 

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door. 

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again.  Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place. 

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.  

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs. 

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

#bts #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin x you #bts imagines #taehyung #halloween #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #halloween smut #bts x reader #bts x you #hoseok imagine #hoseok smut

[henneseyhoe]

I JUST READ THE MELO SMUT🥵🥵so good can you do another one we’re he’s obsessed with the reader like he’s always posting her and showing her love or even like him being overly obsessed and a little dark

CLOSER.

Lamelo x BLACK!FEM!reader.

WARNINGS:!!SLIGHT CNC!!, daddy kink, stalking, mentions of blood and death, k!dnapping, mentions of mental health, kn!fe play(kinda), breeding if you squint, crying(as always), reader is a tad bit delusional, no protection(wrap it before you tap it)

Ps. I feel like being a perfectionist and overthinking fucked this up for me but I can’t keep holding this damn request hostage 😩 so I hope you still enjoy this, it’s LONG lmfao.

Pss. I thought I lost this request, whole time I just had to scroll down LMFAOOO

✮✮✮✮

“Damn, girl. This like the fiftieth love note you’ve gotten this month!” Karina exclaims, looking down at the stack of notes on Y/Ns counter, the girl adding one more from today into the pile. Truthfully, Karina had been sick of seeing them, disgusted by the amount she got weekly. “Girl, stop! It’s not…maybe fortieth” Karina makes a face, side eyeing Y/N with slight scornful expression. She was more than weirded out at the creepy gestures not moving her friend even a bit. Karina on the other hand, got goosebumps even looking at the letters. They were creepy to her, and every time she read one about this mysterious person confessing their love to her bestfriend, she grew more concerned for her wellbeing. “Like that makes a difference, Y/N. You don’t find this shit kinda..weird?” Y/N shrugs, not seeing the point in looking deeper than the notes themselves. A part inside of her liked the attention she got.

“No, not really. It’s kinda sweet!”

“Sweet?! this man, woman, thing, whatever the fuck! Has been writing to you for almost five months now and has not shown their face. You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“I dunno. Maybe they shy, Karina”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t trust it, I don’t like it. What if it’s your ex?” Y/N laughs, taking her jacket off and setting it on a coat hanger in her closet before heading to her kitchen to prepare a meal, Karina following closely behind her to continue her scolding.

“You are so dramatic, you know that? Me and Jason haven’t talked in so long, I doubt it. I haven’t even seen the nigga around”

“So? Nothing about me is dramatic, I’m telling you the truth. That’s more than a secret admirer, that’s a stalker”

Y/N shrugged her off, laughing once again, and further annoying Karina with her lack of urgency to get down to the bottom of the situation at hand. “Stalker? What is this, a lifetime movie?”

“No, it’s real life. that’s why I need you to stay ready for whatever, especially with that creepy ass message your ex sent you after your breakup”

Little did she know, her friend was right all along. It wasn’t her ex, but someone who was far more demented and delusional. Lamelo had been sending eerily specific love letters to Y/N’s house for months, but had been watching her for well over a year now. Almost as soon as he saw her, his last obsession became a buried memory, Y/N now being in the forefront of his mind and sticking there like double sided tape to itself. After some time, he knew her from top to bottom, back to front, and soon, inside and out. If it was up to him, she would have always been his, but he wasn’t the best with approaching women of Y/N’s caliber. She was smart, a college student studying computer science, and none of his silly mind games that’d usually trip up other girls he was interested in would work on her. He had to up his game, and so, he set his plan in motion until he got her in the right place to sink his teeth into her.

✮✮✮✮

“Be safe, okay?”

“Yes, Karina! I won’t get murdered or chopped up over my vacation week, I promise” Y/N joked, but Karina was dead serious, finding no humor in her mess. Y/N’s smile drops, and she becomes serious, mostly so Karina would leave her alone about those ‘silly little notes’. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be safe” she reassured, both the girls finally saying their goodbyes with a loving hug and wave. Closing the door, Y/N sighs. Karina was her bestest friend in the world, but sometimes she could be overbearing. Y/N felt maybe she needed a bit of attention since her recent breakup. She craved it, really. It didn’t matter if the attention was physical or something with a little less contact, Y/N wanted it. But, It wouldn’t go farther than that, she didn’t need a rebound.

Walking into her kitchen where she just finished preparing dinner, she began making herself a plate of spaghetti and freshly toasted bread. The smell of the food made her stomach growl. She knew if she didn’t give Karina a plate of her own before she left, she’d complain that Y/N hogged all that good food to herself. Satisfied with the plate she made, she grabbed her a fork from the dishwasher and sat down at the dining table. Taking a generous amount of pasta on her fork, her mouth watered just as she was about to send her tastebuds to food-heaven.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The girl pauses, praying whoever the hell that was would go away on their own so she could finish eating.

Knock, knock, knock.

Damn. Her lights were on, they knew she was home. She sighs, her fork lowering back down to her plate. Swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, she unsticks herself from her comfortable seat, grumpily making her way towards the front door. Oddly, she saw no one through the frosted glass frame placed in the middle of the door, so she was forced to open it up and see what was going on.

“Hello??” She called, aggravated by how she had to leave her hot dinner just to answer the door and be met with silence. Stepping out on her porch a little, her eyes scan her yard, though nothing but darkness surrounded. Shaking her head, Y/N slams the door shut and locks it. “Stupid ass kids knockin’ on my door. One day imma stick my foot up one of they asses” She rants, walking back to her little set up. Feeling happiness again, she takes that lovely bite of food and does a little dance in her seat.

As her eating progresses, she couldn’t help but to notice her vision blurring, creating two of everything around her. Her head began to spin, and her heartbeat could be heard in her ears mid bite. She had lost her appetite completely by now, currently only focusing on not throwing up all over her table.

‘Where’s my phone?’

She could have sworn she had set it right next to her plate, but it was no where to be found now, even in her corrupted vision. Holding her head in her free hand, she gags at the sudden smell that fills her nose. It was a faint smell, but noticeable. sweet smelling, almost. Ironic for the bitter moment. Her brain told her to stand, and she followed suit, but she couldn’t stop the weakening of her knees or how slowed her breathing was getting.

Her body hit the floor with a ‘THUD’, her limbs feeling completely weighted down, and her consciousness slipping from her as she laid on the cold tiled floor, unable to move.

✮✮✮✮

There she was. Finally where Lamelo wanted her to be. He was so jittery and giddy about his successes that he could scream, but he held off on that till he was alone. His letters, fake pages, dms, and Instagram likes had finally paid off. He had her all to himself, and finally, no one was in his way. Not her colleagues, not Karina, not even her ‘crazy ass’ ex. He had gotten rid of him as soon as tension rose in their relationship. Jason hadn’t seen REAL crazy till he met Lamelo, and he made sure he knew that before his last breath.

The first time Lamelo and Jason interacted was when he witnessed their first relationship fight, which was fairly petty, but Melo didn’t see it that way. He had left a reeeal lengthy note on Jason’s dorm door, describing in step by step detail about how he would gut him like a fish, cut him up into tiny pieces and send every single bit of him off to his ‘helpless whore of a mother’, as Melo described her as. Of course Jason was shaken up, rightfully so. But obviously not shaken up enough to back off.

After not talking to Y/N since the argument, Jason appeared on her porch with that same note, tearing her a new one. He thought Karina was playing jokes on him for arguing with her bestfriend and making her cry. He took his anger out on her, yelled up a storm, and burned up the letter in his hand with his lighter, leaving it on the poor girls porch to stomp out as tears flowed from her glossed brown eyes.

Lamelo took the whole thing as a challenge. Did he really think Karina was on his level of literacy? That note was too well typed for it to be her. So, him being the man he was, made his threats come to fruition. He easily beckoned Jason into close arm reach by teasing him on his campuses basketball court as Jason was doing solo drills. Lucky for Lamelo, he trained at night.

Walking himself into the low lit court, Lamelo began taunting him, which stretched over three whole minutes. Knowing the hot head would react with physical anger, Lamelo kept a guard, and as soon as Jason tried him, Lamelo revealed the bat he held behind his back, swiftly taking a mighty swing at the man’s left leg, hitting right below his knee. Jason couldn’t have possibly seen it coming.

“Right out the park!” Lamelo continued to tease with a wide smile as if blood wasn’t splattered on his shoes. Red spilled from the back of Jason’s knee from his bone completely breaking and stabbing its way through his muscles and skin. You could have heard the snap of the bone and the sound of him hitting the floor echo through the gym, a sound Melo wanted to hear, but Jason’s loud screaming ruined getting the full effect. “I guess this is the part where I run to base” Grabbing the man by his destroyed, bloodied leg, Lamelo drags Jason off of the court as he screams bloody murder.

Lamelo instantly began regretting not bringing anything else to knock him out with without killing him, but every mastermind had slip ups. a shame somebody is gonna hear his screams and probably have nightmares about it now though. Not that Lamelo cared about either parties wellbeing, he just didn’t wanna hear his or anyone else’s mouth.

Then, in Lamelo’s basement face down, Jason continues to cry like a baby while Lamelo took a much needed drink break for the sake of his sanity, or what was left of it.

“How the fuck am I supposed to play ball now!?” Jason heaves suddenly with a quiet sob leaving his dry lips, his coffee colored hands holding his thigh as the blood spilling slowed. “You genuinely thought you were gonna get that far?”

Before Jason had time to attempt to answer, two bullets were already lodged into his skull, one exiting from between his eyebrows and one through his left eye socket.

✮✮✮✮

His daydreaming was cut short by Y/N mixing in her seat. Her consciousness had finally came back, but confusion quickly filled that space in her mind that was once occupied by unconsciousness. She looks around, not recognizing anything around her. “Look who’s up” Melo leans up from his seat in front of her, peeling off the ghostface mask he wore just for dramatic purposes. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. “I know whatchu thinking. Where am I? Who are you? I’ll tell you all that later. But, for right now, we’re gonna celebrate” He smiles, and tosses the mask, standing from the couch he sat on.

Walking over to a small bar, he pours an unknown drink into a glass. Y/N had no idea what was going on, nor did she really care to find out. She was too worried about all the guns and knives that were laid out on the floor next to his seat. Fear pumped up her body with adrenaline, her entire being tingling. She wanted to jump out of her seat, but her arms were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied to the chair’s own legs.

“I wanna make a toast. To a new life, and new love” He held up his glass and drunk some of the mystery liquor. Waking over to her, he holds the glass to her lips. “Drink” he instructed, Y/N shaking her head and looking away. “Why not? You think I poisoned it or somethin’?” He takes his hand and grabs her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “I wouldn’t do that to myself, so drink” he insists.

Looking back at him, her eyes trace his features, stretching down his long, tatted arms. Creepy shit aside, she thought he was cute, but she had to stay focused. “If you don’t drink, imma just force you” Y/N didn’t budge, but Lamelo had no problem with setting her straight early on. Gripping the sides of her face to make her open her mouth, he tilts her head back roughly and pours the drink into her mouth. The liquid went down smoothly, but burned her throat like hell. She didn’t drink, she never did because she got drunk easily, and Lamelo knew that.

She jerks her head away with a strong gag, tears welling up in her eyes. “I dunno if you realized yet, but I’m the one in charge, I’m the one who ain’t tied up, I’m the one that could end you like *snap* that” he threatens with a snap, but it holds no weight to him. He wasn’t gonna kill this one, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t have to. “I know you’re a smart girl, so I know you can listen. I didn’t go through all those letters to find out you can’t follow simple instructions, pretty”

Her eyes were drawn to him, anger now flickering within them like a flame in a dark room. “Letters?…You were the one writing those fuckin’ letters?” She spoke through clenched teeth. Lamelo smiles. “Surpriiiise~” he sings, gulping down the rest of the alcohol before slamming the glass down on the floor. The glass shattered into pieces, making Y/N jump at the sound. Her breathing was ragged, and pressure built up behind her eyes like a dam waiting to be cracked open.

“You’re a sick person” She spoke with distress, shaking her head. Melo shrugs with no sympathy. If he had a dollar for every time someone said that to him, he’d be a Rockefeller. “Everybody sick, I just have no problem showing mine, unlike the rest of society”

“Jesus Christ” she muttered, her head hanging low in regret. Karina was right all along, and she didn’t listen. If she did, she wouldn’t be in this position, her life in the hands of a man she didn’t even know. “Don’t act so sad. You’re gonna love me…or at least learn to. again, you’re smart”

“I don’t wanna love you. I wanna go home”

“You are home. Don’t be stupid” He spat, waltzing by her and picking up a blade from the floor, inspecting in. Y/N tenses up, Lamelo immediately noticing. He side eyes her with a slight smirk, mischief infesting his energy. “You think imma cut you, Y/N?” She kept quiet, but he continued to pry. “You think imma scar that pretty frame you got? What about this beautiful face?” He walks over to her, using the knife to swipe a box braid out of her vision. Y/N sniffles, taking a deep breath.

“Let. Me. Go”

“Or what?” Lamelo challenged, getting close to her as Y/N gave him a look, one he couldn’t make out or tell if it was anger. “You can’t do shit, I made sure. I tied you real good. Your friend thinks you went on vacation, so if you aren’t answering tomorrow, that just means you made it safe and you’re having fun. Maybe found yourself a fun fling that’s distracting that pretty mind. Somebody you invited up to your room” he continues, the tip of his knife swiftly making a cut into her gown with a quick swipe, making the thin fabric fall from the top of her body, pooling into her lap.She wanted to cover her naked body, but the rope restraints stuns her movements.

“Would you take me back to your hotel room, Y/N? I would have been a great candidate” the sadistic nature of him alone had her terrified, he could have done anything to her. She began shedding tears. She was exposed now, realizing the gown wasn’t even something she remembered wearing or buying, so he had to have put it on her himself when she was knocked out.

If he pulls the rest off, she was for sure fucked, no pun intended. He stares with no shame, the tip of his tongue grazing his plump bottom lip.

‘Fuck’

She attempts clenching her thighs together to stop the tingling, but it never subsided, and her brown nipples getting as hard as pebbles helped nothing. She wanted to keep a guard up so badly for her own safety, but the wetness coating the lips between her legs was telling her to do something else.

He notices how her legs were trying to move and her hips slowly circled, unintentionally trying to find a specific position to stimulate her clit. She couldn’t help it, she just wanted the tingling to stop. “Lemme help you wit’ that, ma” Melo smirks, putting his hand right under her soaked pussy. She stops immediately and lifts her butt as much as she can, feeling the warmth of his hand under her. She shakes her head ‘no’, but he nods a ‘yes’ and keeps his hand placed, kneeling on one knee in front of her. “Go ‘head” He says. The approval he gave her lingered in her head as the tingling intensified, giving her no choice but to fall into temptation.

Y/N hesitantly lowers herself down and begins to move against his hand, swirling, bouncing, and grinding down at the speed she wanted as her hips stuttered backwards every time his finger tips would swipe over her clit. She let out a stifled moan and threw her head back, rocking her hips faster as she felt herself climb closer to her end. Lamelo only fed her urges by bringing his hand up higher every time she’d raise her hips when the feeling got too strong, aiming to stimulate her clit through even the strongest parts of her orgasm. His dick was as hard as an iron pole in his pants now. It almost painfully pressing up against the material, the tip leaking precum just practically begging to be set free so he could fuck something, and soon it’d get its turn. Y/N could just see it through her eyelashes, she couldn’t help but look, it was so obvious.

Lamelo slides his fingers between her wet folds, collecting her slick to keep her clit wet while she used him as she pleased. “Speed up” he instructed.

✮✮✮✮

Fifteen minutes had passed and she had already came twice in the palm of his hands. Her seat was sticky and her thighs were wet, but Lamelo’s hand and arm were wetter. He slid his hand from under her and took a taste of what he had craved for so long. All of the timeless nights he had spent looking through her bedroom window, watching her feel, fuck, and taste herself, wishing he was there to catch every drop.

Feeling defeated, Y/N’s head lulls backwards as she rests her eyes on the ceiling above her. There was no other sound but the ringing frequency in her ear and the huffing of her breath trying to slow itself. She could hear her own heartbeat slowing too, just until the sound of wood creaking above them drowned the sound out. She pauses, her eyes shooting wide.

‘Who could possibly be here? could they help?’

Was what she began thinking as all the color from Lamelo’s face seemingly drained, his breath now still. Suddenly he reaches for the knife he held earlier, grabbing it from the floor and clutching it in his hand. Just in case someone had creeped down the stairs to the basement and witnessed what had been going on, he had no problem getting rid of whoever was responsible for ruining their moment.

The walking upstairs prologued, the hot tears that filled her eyes starting to flood her flushed cheeks as he placed a finger over her lips, signaling her to shut up. The cold blade of his knife pressed against the skin of her throat, so hard that she could practically feel her pulse and she was holding her breath purposely, scared the blade would cut her precious soft skin if she moved even an inch, and he cared less.

As the footsteps went away, distancing from them, he moves his hand. He lets out a much needed breath of relief and licks his lips, a smile growing on his face. “Roommate. Thought we were goners there for a second. You did good though, ma” He praises, standing from his crouching position. “I think you deserve a treat because of that”

Positioning his knife under the rope that held her feet in place, he looks up at her with a warning look before cutting both of her legs free. He walks around the chair and does her hands next, giving Y/N the room to rub her aching joints, feeling relief. Only one thought ran through her mind just then, and though she was tired from the recent back to back orgasms, she knew she only had one chance to get it right. So, she stood like a lamb taking its first steps, and took a run for it.

‘Please, please, please’

She pleaded in her head over and over again as she ran though the large basement, hoping to find an exit. Just as she had spotted a door at the end of a dark stairway, light of freedom shining through the cracks, her body jerked backwards and spun in the opposite direction, the miss placement of her sore feet being the reason why she hit the floor. The taste of iron filled her mouth from the gash on the inside of her lip, her teeth accidentally biting down on it as she went down.

She thanked god that carpet covered the floor or else she would have definitely knocked a tooth loose, and maybe lost one. “Run pretty fast for someone who’s been tied up for hours” He flipped her over so easily, prying her legs open so he could kneel between them. He admired her entire body as he held both her wrists down above her head with just one hand so he could capture them in a pair of cuffs, making sure she had no fighting chance this time. She couldn’t believe his hand was big enough to hold down both, and even with her struggling, he didn’t budge once.

✮✮✮✮

The take down was rough, but when he fucked, it was nothing like she expected. He slid his shaft along her clit, the pink bud erect and sticking out from her hood. He couldn’t stop himself from jumping against her pussy with excitement, the tip of his dick slapping the bottom of her belly with every bounce. He pulls his hips back, the tip of him now resting against her dripping entrance, ready to ruin her for the next, if Lamelo didn’t get to him first. “Stop..” She mutters, but deep down, she was really anticipating the contact.

Her sexual organs were completely against her once again, fogging her mind with thoughts of him she didn’t want and didn’t expect to have. She was forced to sit there, pondering on how he felt and how deep he could go inside of her, but she no longer had to wonder as he pushed his hips back forward to give her a taste of what she would be stuck with for the rest of her days.

He sunk into her slowly, her walls gripping him as a welcome upon entrance. He practically had to force himself inside with a drawn out sigh as Y/N sucks in air, both of them exchanging looks into their eyes before looking down at where they connected. Her stomach involuntarily sucks in, showing the bulge of his dick every time he thrusted forward with skill into her. The feeling deep down was so indescribable, so good that she almost cracked a smile. She hadn’t even noticed how much he was stretching her out, she was too busy feeling every inch of him.

Her eyes rolls back and her toes curled as she brought her legs back further for him, Lamelo smiling at how he didn’t even have to tell her to do so. He was just proud that she was learning, but she had much more to get down pact.

“Good girl…” he rasps.

“It’s so fucking deep” She whispers, her voice slightly hoarse from her throat being dry. As his hips tempo changed, the chains connected to her wrists made jingling sounds, making music with the clapping of their thighs joining in the harsher he got. He couldn’t tell if his bodies reaction to her was cause he hadn’t had sex in a long time or if she was just that damn tight. Meanwhile, YN was Lost in clouds of her own, feeling the repetitive push of Lamelo’s tip knocking against her g-spot, her own cream starting to slip out of her and drip down to her ass.

“This pussy grippin’” Melo compliments, one of his hands moving downwards to grip at the girls throat, making her tear up once again.

“Yeah? You like it?” She spoke breathlessly, the man above her nodding and laying a singular kiss on her lips, making her swoon momentarily before going back to her struggling whimpers.

“Mhmm, fuck” He moans. He never moaned, but he guessed she was changing him too.

“Call me daddy”

“Daddy!”

“Yeah, what’s my name?”

“Daddy! Fuck!”

“You so fuckin’ pretty, mamas” he groans out, almost whimpering as his dick pushed inside her further and further. She felt like he was trying to make her cervix a home for his dick with how deep he was going. Y/N began to think how they had gone too far for her to ignore how she was enjoying every bit of this. No matter how much she tried to tell her pussy to stop cumming for him, she continued, making the carpet under her soaked with her honey. Hours ago she wished her hands were untied to beat his ass, but now she wished they were uncuffed so she could trace his tattoos while he dug her out.

He was hitting spots that not even her ex man was hitting.

Using her thighs for leverage, he begins to fuck her in a push-up position, ramming his long dick directly into her coven, her walls squeezing him almost like she was showing thanks without words. Her juices made it easier for him to fuck her with no limit, slipping and sliding into her with no trouble apart from how tight she was gripping.

He didn’t hold off to cum either, he had already came twice, but he had more to give her and she had no choice but to take it. He was convinced he could imprint on her, and it was a bonus if his seed grew inside of her after all this hard work he put in. She was gonna stay with him, and he was gonna make sure of it.

✮✮✮✮

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black reader #black!oc #black!fem!reader #black actors #lamelo ball fanfiction #lamelo ball smut #lamelo ball #kinktober #halloween smut #halloween masterlist #halloween fanfic #halloween fic #blackwriters #black writer #black fanfic #fanfiction #actor smut #smut masterlist #smutty fanfiction #smutty #henneseyhoe

[im-his-druidess]

"It's just...you gotta give me...fuck, please Michael, it's too much," you nearly wailed while clawing at the sheets underneath you.

The man behind you barely even grunted in acknowledgment when he finally bottomed out inside you, breath leaving in a slight huff that you hardly heard over the sounds of your cries, but you did feel his large curious fingers trace the slick seam of your overstretched cunt once you two were finally joined. He poked and prodded as if he couldn't believe he was buried inside such a tight space, even though he made himself fit every single time he fucked you, and you blinked the wetness from your eyes as he removed his hand and instead clamped it back on your hip to hold you in place. As usual, he didn't say a word and he gave you no time to adjust before be began snapping his hips in a brutal rhythm, and you did wail at the feeling of his thick cock mercilessly splitting you open.

"Michael," you sobbed into the sheets, eyes rolling back as pleasure crashed over you like waves in a restless sea and his hands forced your hips back against him over and over again, and his steady even breathing didn't change as you squeezed down on him from the strain of having him inside you.

Any moonlight filtering through your bedroom window was blocked from his broad body completely caging you in, the deceptively soft strands of his long hair tickled across your shoulders in a way that tempted you to turn your head to look at him, but you kept your face buried in the sheets that were damp with your sweat and tears. You remember vividly the last time you tried to look at him while he was inside you and, despite some odd reason he developed a soft spot for you that left you breathing and relatively safe whenever he visited you, he still refused to show you his face. Your stinging backside had bruises that lingered for weeks and the utter humiliation of having being spanked by a serial killer had lasted even longer.

You reach up to clutch at your thudding headboard, desperate to hold on to something stable as Michael continued his punishing pace that left your head spinning, and a few moments later you were shocked out of your stupor by the feeling of a too-warm hand suddenly encompassing yours. It was just as curious as when he prodded at your sex, but it was the most intimate he has been since you felt him take his mask off the first time he fucked you from behind. You whispered his name in question against the material shoved against your face and squeezed your eyes shut when his hips slowed down until he stopped entirely as he started to idly trace your fingers. At that moment it was even more obvious how clearly he could snap you like a twig, not even considering your compromising position, and you slowly picked your head up to look at where his hand was still covering yours. The difference was almost comical, but you soaked in the momentary gentleness of the killer behind you as you stared at your intertwined fingers. His large hand was broad and scarred, rough with callouses with dirt caked underneath the short fingernails, and you were struck at how soft he was being as he explored every nook and cranny of your hand. Eventually, he trailed his fingers over the back of your hand and up your arm and shoulder, before fisting in your hair and shoving your face back into the mattress. You let out an undignified squeak at the unexpected rough treatment and then shrieked as he suddenly pulled out of your dripping cunt and rammed back in.

Your scalp blossomed with pain as he adjusted his grip on your hair and hip to hold you steady before resuming his rough pace and you let your high-pitched sounds be muffled as Michael continued to use you.

#Michael Myers #Halloween #RZ Michael Myers #Halloween 2007 #Michael Myers x Reader #Halloween x Reader #Michael Myers headcanons #Halloween headcanons #Halloween 2007 headcanons #RZ Michael Myers x Reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher fandom #Kink Prompt fill #prompt fill #Slasher x Reader #Michael Myers smut #Halloween smut #Slasher smut #the crytpid answers

[fluffymaxsworld]

🎃HALLOWEEN SPECIAL🦇

simon ghost riley x reader

1411 words!! :))

[18+, p in v, semi-public sex, you being price’s daughter, age gap, almost caught, oral m receiving, fingering, swallowing cum]

IMPORTANT: READ NOTES AT THE END

NSFW!! MDI!!

you were price’s daughter. price’s pretty daughter, if you had to be honest.

everyone in the task force 141 knew you as the cute, kind y/n who’s just the sweetest thing on earth. they were all down bad for ya.

“happy halloween y/n! you look so gorgeous!” soap greeted you at the task force 141’s halloween party where everyone insisted on inviting you. they rarely hosted parties, but luckily they had time for a quick break from work.

“hey soap! happy halloween to you too!” you smile widely.

“we all missed you so much love” he praised you.

you replied with a melodic laugh, capable of melting a cold heart just like ghost’s.

ghost sat in a dark corner of the room, a whiskey in his right hand and his gaze fixated on your body.

god, how much he wanted to hate you, wanted to show everyone that you weren’t that much, that he was ‘different’, that he didn’t like you… but you were there, laughing so sweetly at soap’s annoying jokes, melting once again his cold heart. and today he was even more lucky, price couldn’t managed to make it to the party so he told him to keep an eye on you, more precisely on who touched you.

you knew you had something for ghost. he was the most reserved man in your dad’s crew, and oh god, he was hot. you couldn’t lie to yourself, you definitely had a thing for masks, but his body was something you wanted to ride on.

“hey ghost, how are you?” you waved softly at him, “it’s been awhile”

he nodded slightly, greeting you.

“hey” he mumbled.

“you look great, always so well dressed!” cheap compliment. he had on a simple black hoodie and a pair of loose jeans (something that you already had noticed, causally glancing at his crotch, praying for him to not notice you), an outfit he usually wore outside work, an outfit you’d always saw him wearing.

“you think so? i just chose the first clothes i saw.” he replied.

“mh… yeah, i guess” you chuckled embarrassed as you feel someone touching your shoulder from behind.

“hey hey ghost, dont steal miss price junior from us” soap grinned, “isn’t it right gorgeous?”

before you could answer ghost interrupted you, “well i can and will steal her from you” he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, “so back off”

“okay okay, relax bro, i was joking” he giggled nervously, “take her, s’all yours or whatever”

he walked away, as you looked up at ghost, “what was that?”

“was he bothering you?”

“no”

he flicked his tongue, “follow me”

he reached the bathroom and opened the door, pushing you inside.

“look at me” he said, touching your chin, “i don’t like how you act so kind and sweet with soap, gaz or whoever, okay? you can’t.”

you stared at him, a bit confused but not denying your increased attraction towards him, “what do you mean?”

he locked the door and pinned you to the wall.

“don’t act dumb, you’re doing this to gather my attention” he whispered in your ear, enough for making your thighs squeeze together.

“i… i don’t understand…” you muttered, feeling your cheeks warm.

“you’re such a sweetheart with everyone, don’t ya think it’s time to stop and be a sweetheart to me and just me?” he groaned, now making you fully flushed, “so what about you stop squeezing your thighs and open your legs f’me babe?”

he slowly gripped your hips as his left hand reached for your panties. you didn’t stop him, no, instead you did as he said, open your legs for him.

“what a slut” he growled almost to himself, making your underwear soaking wet and your knees trembling, “opening your pretty legs for everyone”

he reached for you clit, pressing it teasingly, “no one can touch you like this, okay? you understood? this pussy is mine.” he slid a finger in, “say it loud. who owns your pussy?”

“y-you…” you managed to let out.

“good girl, so good f’me” he whined, thrusting his digit deep inside and sliding in a second one.

he arched the fingers to touch your g-spot, making you moan loudly and shaking in pleasure.

“if just soap could see me pounding you up wit’ my fingers” his accent clear, “i’d make him learn a lesson”

his pushed inside, his thick cold fingers were enough to make you feel about to come already.

“p-please… faster…” you moaned out, “please ghost, please”

“it’s simon.” he groaned, pressing his bulge against your naked skin, “simon riley”

“simon… please…” you begged for more, sobbing for his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck after feeling about to fall as you heard his name.

he moved your waist aimlessly, mindlessly, your thoughts filled of desire of more.

“i think… i’m coming…” you cried out, breathing heavily against his tattooed neck.

the sounds you made after coming around his fingers directly sucked off his pulsing dick, making his face and ears flush in ecstasy.

you fell on your knees, slowly unzipping his jeans. you pulled down his boxer to reveal his good 7.5 inches cock, dripping in precum and asking for any kind of touch from you. you reached for his tip, licking off the pre and tasting his juices, looking up to him.

you started sucking him off, his moans and whimpers reaching your still wet pussy. you tried to take him all, managing to suck just half of his length.

but that wasn’t enough for him, he needed more, he craved you. he placed his hand on your hair, pulling you closer. you could feel his tip teasing your throat, causing you to gag over him and moan, the vibrations stimulating him more. your nose was basically touching his hairy base (‘sexy’ you thought), your right hand reaching to play with his balls. that was the last step as he groaned, “gonna cum… open wide”

you coughed one second and then open widely your mouth, sticking out the tongue.

he stroked his cock, looking directly into your eyes and as finally you tasted his load of cum.

he looked at you swallowing his come, pulling your closer to his face and placing a wet, messy kiss on your lips.

you were still stroking slightly his dick, kissing him deeply and eating him up when you heard a knock coming from outside.

“hey, ghost are you there?” you heard soap’s muffled voice, “we’re going to the pool”

he looked at the door, then at you. he gripped your ass with both hands and, wrapping your legs around his waist, you felt him gently going inside you.

you covered your mouth, avoiding moans that were already coming out from your swollen lips.

he opened halfway the door, looking at soap and hiding you.

“i’m coming, wait f’me and for miss price junior” he said so calmly that you left shocked. you clenched your pussy around his cock, looking for his (stern) reaction.

“by the way, did you see her? i wanted to offer her a drink or something” soap replied.

“she’s coming.” he groaned, slamming the door onto his face.

you heard soap sigh and walk away as ghost pinned you once again against the wall, pushing inside you deeper and harder, moaning out your name between some swearing.

“gonna fuck you so well, making learn soap who’s your man” he hissed, “don’t ya ever accept a drink form him again, kay babe?” he spanked your ass, making you whine.

“…mmh… y-yeah…” you cried out, “you’re the o-only one who can fuck me…”

“good girl” he grunted.

his dick kept hitting your cervix, your head was empty and your eyes half closed, the only thing you could think of was his massive body, his massive arms and massive cock.

you felt once again your orgasm approaching, clenching around his length.

“m’gonna cum…” you yearned.

“gonna cum too princess, gonna fill you up” he whimpered.

quickly he felt your walls tighten around his shaft, your back arching and rolling your eyes up your head, moaning his name.

“s-simon…” was enough to make him cum inside your body, groaning your name back and biting his lips.

he pulled your body away from his, kissing you deeply and gently, wiping away with his other hand all the cum that was dripping out of you.

“miss price junior is such a ugly name, doesn’t suits you like miss riley” he whispered.

“miss riley is great” you whispered back.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!

i’m very very proud of how long it turned out, and i had this genial idea of writing the second part for christmas (basically cockwarming in the pool + sex sex sex) so it’s NOT FINISHED YET!!

if you want to join a taglist comment/write me in dm.

love y’all and happy halloween again<3

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #halloween #halloween smut #ghost smut #cod smut #cod ghost #cod simon riley

[starry-eyes-love]

Marriage Dynamics-Happy Halloween

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+, Minors DNI), AU universe, No Outbreak

Summary | Joel takes his wife out to a Halloween-themed party. A slight disagreement changes the course of the night for both of them but ends with Joel and his wife giving each other some much-needed attention in the woods.

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Explicit Smut, Age gap (Joel 52, reader 37), married with husband/wife dynamics, language, fluff, arguments with angst, dom/sub dynamics (a bit), daddy kink, pregnancy reference (if you squint at the end), alcohol consumption, driving after alcohol consumption (don’t do this people, drive sober)- in the story Joel isn’t even tipsy with alcohol, piv sex, creampie (they’re married folks, and she wants it), body type descriptions (slight), reference to Halloween costumes. Sorry (not sorry) about this one guys, man it’s a rollercoaster ride like any marriage is with a lot of steamy smut at the end. Enjoy & Happy Halloween!

Word Count: 9.1 K

“I know mama, I know,” he said, closing his eyes and trying to will his impending release off a bit so he could give you what you needed.  When he opened his eyes he looked into yours and saw that you were staring into his soul. You whispered, “I need you husband.” Joel smoothed his hand over your hair and whispered “I know baby, I see you, and I’m right here.”  Joel then bent down and passionately kissed you as he deepened his motions.

October 31st, Halloween

It has been a long time since Joel, your husband, has felt these intense feelings for you, his wife. Yes, you were beautiful, the mother of his 2 children, and a step-mother to his first born daughter Sarah. But something was different about tonight, especially when he saw you walk down the stairs in that black silk dress hugging your curves just right.  Tommy, Joel’s brother and your brother-in-law, agreed to watch the boys tonight so you and Joel could have a night out for just yourselves. Sarah was already out of the house and in her second year of college in Seattle, so she wasn't around to help out as much as before. Your friend, Tasha, had convinced both you and Joel to come out to an adult-only Halloween themed party.  After many discussions with your husband, and a few nights where he slept on the couch, you both had finally agreed to one night of adult-only festivities, including dressing up in costumes.

Joel didn’t want to do anything that was too flashy, as he didn’t usually feel comfortable doing things like this. You agreed that a simple costume, him going as Dracula, would be appropriate.  After several discussions, you decided to go as a female vampire for yourself.  Joel had teased you and asked if you were going to be going as Dracula’s bride, and you adamantly said no. Explaining to him that Dracula’s bride was older, had white hair, and never got much attention from her husband. When Joel teased you asking why that was a problem, your response was “I want to go as something different than what reality is.”  Your statement had caused another argument where your husband was, once again, spending another night on the couch.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy in your marriage, you were.  But things with Joel Miller had gotten stale.  You ate at the same restaurants, watched the same TV shows, hung out with the same people, and did the same things every day without any deviation.  You missed the fun nights the two of you would have when you two were dating. You'd been together for 17 years, 15 of those years married. In the past the two of you would stay up all night talking, fuck on every possible surface of your home, including inside Joel's truck. 

Even though Joel was almost two decades older than you, now in his early 50s, he looked good, really good. He was physically fit, had a little bit of a softer tummy, not the rock hard abs younger men had. But he looked good with no shirt on and just pants. He had a construction worker's build, salt and pepper hair, and facial hair that you found out that you loved. In bed Joel was amazing, always has been. He'd get you to cum multiple times if he wanted to, that is if he wanted to. 

Over the past year the bedroom activity was nice, but lacked a bit of passion or intensity. He could get you there with ease, but you wanted your man to breed you, show you who was boss, edge you, something. You didn't know how to ask him for more, considering he was always so exhausted most of the time. 

Joel owned Miller Contracting, his own contracting business. It was an established business for a long time, but recently it had expanded out and was taking on larger projects. About a year and a half ago Joel remodeled a client's kitchen. The client was a CEO of a major company, something no one knew. But Joel said he never cared, he always did quality work as if the person owned everything. He took pride in working with his hands and creating things he loved. The client loved Joel's work so much that when the large company expanded into a different nearby town, Joel was the person they called. He nailed the largest contract in history of Miller Contracting, it was a full time year around job that was going to take 3 years to finish. He hired 30 employees to help get the project done on a large high rise that was going up. 

About a year ago is when the bedroom activity became lackluster, and that was the same time Joel started his large contract. He worked longer days, sometimes also weekends. He made time for his family and boys, making sure to be a present father. He attempted to be an attentive husband in the bedroom, but you could see how exhausted he was. Some nights you cried yourself to sleep as Joel fell asleep on the couch, right before he agreed to give you some much needed affection.

But tonight was going to be different, you thought. Tonight you wanted to feel young and alive again.  So you decided to buy a sexy black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, that gave yourself a good amount of cleavage, and was mid-thigh in length. You paired it with some sexy lingerie, just in case someone went looking later on, someone you were hoping was your husband.  After you finished dressing yourself, doing your makeup, and spraying on your expensive perfume (the one that Joel bought you a year ago as a gift apologizing for falling asleep early), you put on your high heels and then walked down the stairs.

"Babe, we gotta get goin' if we want to make it on-" Joel said as he turned around to see you descend from the stairs in your costume. Joel wasn't able to finish his sentence the moment he laid eyes on you. He always thought that you were a beautiful woman. But tonight, in this moment, it was like his heart stopped beating and he could hear Angels singing from heaven.

"Cat got your tongue, Big Boy?" you whispered as you got up to him with a sly smile.

Joel had his eyes focusing hard on your cleavage and your curves. When he heard you call him his nickname, Big Boy, he almost fainted. He hadn't heard that nickname since he dated you. It usually meant that you were in the mood for some dominance in the bedroom later, where he'd show you who was in control. He had to admit though that since having children, the whole play dominance in the bedroom had stopped because with younger kids, you sometimes had to be fast. He'd still take care of you, but not in the ways he'd used to. Joys of marriage and kids that no one ever talked about. He still loves you, but he did miss your sexual appetite. He just didn't know if he could do some of those moves anymore like he did 10 years ago.

"You, uh" Joel squeaked. 

As the high pitched notes came out of his voice, you smiled and chuckled a moment to yourself before you said "what was that baby?"

Joel glared at you for teasing him. He then pulled at the collar by his throat, cleared his throat, and said in a husky manly voice "You look wonderful, darlin.'" 

"Well thank you, handsome" you said with a slight wink as you turned to walk out the door, swaying your ass just a little bit more for your husband's roaming eyes.

As Joel watched you walk away he let out a low growl at how you looked.  Joel wasn’t a religious man, but he definitely was thanking the good Lord on high tonight for seeing you like this. He took a small breath and let it out in a huff as he followed you outside, saying to himself "that woman's tryin' to fucking kill me."

The entire drive to the party Joel kept glancing over to where you were seated. You were looking out the window with a solemn look on your face. He kept trying to figure out why you had that look. Sure, the two of you have been arguing more. But he thought the both of you had made up, especially when he fucked you in the bed the other night instead of sleeping on the couch yet again. That night he made sure to give you two orgasms, and not just the usual one.

Unable to figure out what was going on in that pretty little head of yours, Joel decided to reach over and lightly grab your hand. He brought it to his mouth, kissed your knuckles gently while saying, "you look absolutely beautiful tonight baby. I feel like I just landed into a dream with you, one that I never want to wake from." He then gently placed your hand back on your thigh, and gave it a little squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

He saw that you looked down at your hand, like you could still see something there when you said with a slight sniffle, "yeah me too, and I hope I never wake up." Then you went back to looking out the truck window. In that moment, Joel felt his heart ache. Why did she just say that?, he wondered. "Baby, I-"

"Forget it Joel, it was nothing. I didn't mean what-" 

"You meant something by it darlin'" Joel said, interrupting you. 

"Baby, I don't wanna fight" was all you said to him.

"Not fightin' Angel," he said turning back to the road. "Are you happy or- or angry with me yet?" he said with a slightly shaky voice, hoping that you weren't angry yet.

"Joel, oh my God, no baby, I'm not angry. I am happy, incredibly happy. I just miss how we used to be, that's all," you say trying to defuse the situation.

Puzzled, Joel glanced over at you and said "what do you mean, how we used to be?" 

"It's just, you know. It ain't as good as before" you say quickly avoiding his gaze.

"What? What ain't as good as before?" Joel questioned you. As you sat in silence Joel's stomach started twisting in knots trying to figure out what you meant. After a moment he said "Angel, please." 

Silence continued from you.

"Baby please, please answer me? What ain't as good, is it our marriage you don't like, or?"

"It's the bedroom, Joel" you said with a rushed voice.

"What's wrong with the bedroom? Is it the decorations or-"

"I don't like how we fuck, ok? It's not as good as it used to be. It's honestly stale" you say with a sarcastic laugh. "Instead of me feeling like I’m fucking my husband, I don’t know, I feel like I'm with a total stranger. Someone who I really don’t like. I walk away hating it, or worse, feeling like no one cares. I just wish it was like it was before with us, where you'd see me, and actually want me."

“I want you” Joel snapped in defense, emotions swirling around his stomach and head like a hurricane. His mind was trying to figure out what was happening in front of him.

“No you don’t Joel, we both know that’s a lie. Sure, you want me because you have to. That’s it. I’m a checklist you have to occasionally check off. Must have sex with my wife, check. You haven’t really wanted it for years, cause if you did, you’d known that I wasn’t always having orgas-” 

As you glanced over at Joel mid sentence, you were instantly mortified at what you saw. Your husband was white knuckling the steering wheel, grinding his teeth, and silently cursing to himself with glassy eyes.  Somehow you had removed the compassion filter of caring and just started to let your mouth run wild. You wanted to take everything back you just said, but you didn’t know how.  As you reached over to try to comfort Joel, he flinched and turned towards the door, away from you. It was then that you fully understood what had happened, you had seriously fucked up.

Joel felt his stomach tighten at your words. His wife, the woman who he cared about and loved deeply, wasn't sexually satisfied with him and apparently had been faking orgasms for a while. From what you said, somehow you no longer liked being with him, and that fucking hurt him so much and cut him so deeply. He loved you, and loved being with you sexually, but apparently you didn't feel the same way with him. So with a shaky voice he said, "Is there, um, is there anything you'd want me to do differently then if I’m not pleasing ya right?"

"No," you said in a meek voice.

"Are you sure?” he said with a huge lump caught in his throat. “It seems like maybe you’d want me to do something differently, cause apparently I’m fuckin’ this all up for you. So what do ya want done different Angel, please tell me" Joel said, trying to keep his voice both steady and even.

With a sigh you said, "Joel, just forget about it, ok. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just saying dumb stuff, I never meant any of it. I love what you do, can’t seem to get enough of it. Don’t worry, ok." Then you reached for the radio and turned it on to try to drown out the uncomfortable silence that now was present between the two of you.

As you thought about what you had said, you felt the feelings of embarrassment and shame creep up your spine. You didn't want to give Joel the wrong impression, and yet that's exactly what you did. It wasn’t that you hated everything he did, you just missed how it used to be. He still gave you orgasms, if that’s what you could call them. They were ok, but they lacked the major intensity that they used to have when you were dating. The more you thought about this, the more you realized that your wants weren't practical anymore with the current life that you were living. You silently sat there scolding yourself for opening up and creating another argument with your husband. 

God, why can’t I just let this stuff go and realize that I ain’t ever gonna get it again, you thought to yourself. I mean, I got a great guy, a beautiful house, children, and financial stability. I should be happy.  And you were happy, or at least you were trying to convince yourself that you were.  The longer you mulled over this in your mind, the more lost in your head you became. The problem was when you got lost in your head like this you didn’t realize that you started to fidget your hands nervously, it was a tick that you had.  You also started biting your lip and saying silently out loud “God I’m just so stupid.”  These were traits that you did when you were really upset about something, but you never fully register that you do them.  However, Joel knows these traits, knows them well.  While you were overthinking things, Joel was slowly grinding his teeth, clenching his jaw, and allowing his anger to rise up in the pit of his stomach. He felt like a  shitty husband, especially when he hadn't realized that he wasn’t satisfying his wife.

Underneath the surface Joel was seething, pissed off, and deeply hurt at the fact that he wasn't performing up to your standards. But mostly, Joel was pissed at your lack of communication on the topic for a long time. Telling him to forget about it, that you didn't mean what you said, and then scold yourself out loud all made Joel very angry. If you weren't satisfied in the bedroom, he wanted to know. He was your husband, goddamnit, and his wife's needs did actually matter to him, no matter what.

Without thinking Joel pulled the truck over to the side of the road, and then slammed it into park. He then turned and faced you stating in an irritated voice "look here little girl, don't you ever tell me something's fine when it ain't. Obviously your husband ain't performing up to his wife's satisfaction. And you better believe it missy, that I wanna hear about it if you're not satisfied. You hear me? Now, I'm only gonna ask you this question once again, and this time I better get an honest answer from ya. What in the hell would you like done differently in bed, if you ain't enjoying it?"

You sat there shocked looking at Joel seething with anger. Even though you wanted to smack him for that tone he just used with you, you also felt bad for him at what you did.  You saw a man who was compassionate and who was hurting. He was searching your eyes, trying to find something to hold on to that you still were ok with him. You also didn't want to argue, but in this moment you saw the hurt look behind those fiery eyes of your husband who you just told wasn't performing up to the level that you wanted. He did care, that much was evident on his face.

You reached your hand out and gently stroked his face while saying "Joel, honey. We both are so busy in life with careers and kids, that we just lost a bit of that spark. You are performing great in bed love, but I miss the days where sex wasn't a chore. Where it was something you needed to have from me, and not something that was a requirement as a marriage. That's all."

Joel took a shaky breath and then let it out with a huff. He closed his eyes and said "how can I communicate it to you, for you to realize that I want you. That I never stopped wanting you?" As he opened his eyes, you saw that they were glassy. "I never stopped needing you baby, what can I do to show you that?"

With a smile you said,"fuck me like you used to Joel," and with that you leaned over and planted a brief kiss on your husband's lips. Joel nodded his head once and cleared his throat, as he felt a thump there. He then put the truck back in drive and continued forward. The rest of the car ride was in silence as Joel contemplated what you said. The only difference was he was now holding your hand and slowly running his thumb over the back of your hand, reassuring both himself and you that he was still here, and that he still loved you.

When you got to the party, everyone was already there. Joel and you walked inside together, but he was quiet. The only statement he asked was if you wanted something to drink and if so what. You told him to get you vodka and pineapple juice, and he said "fine." When he came back you noticed he was drinking whiskey on the rocks, which was only usually reserved for times at home or when Joel was pissed. You didn't let it damper your spirits. You walked around and spoke to people for a while. A fellow contractor quickly got Joel's attention and he was off in the corner visiting with him for most of the night. You found Tasha, your friend, and started talking with her.

After 10 minutes of catching up with Tasha she went for the heart. "So you and Mr. Grumpy pants over there, you guys fighting again?" she asked as she pointed to where your husband was sitting.

"No," was all you said while you took another sip of the second drink you had gotten yourself. Usually Joel would bring you refills of your drinks throughout the night, but not tonight. You saw when he got his own refill, but he never came over to see where you were, or if you needed another drink.

"Oh bitch, please." Tasha said. "Seriously, you and him at it again, huh?"

"Tash, why do you say that?" taking another swallow of your drink while staring at your husband, who has yet to look over at you all night.

"Why? I'll tell ya why y/n, you've been shooting daggers at that poor man all night. Slamming one too many drinks down your throat. So what's up hun?"

"I told him" you say looking down. "I told him how I'm not happy and…"

"No, you didn't" she gasps, shaking her head. You had spoken to Tash before about this and she told you that you needed to open up to Joel about it, but she never thought you'd do it tonight.

"Yup," you said and you proceeded to tell her everything that happened on the car ride over here. "Yeah and now we are here, wherever the hell here is," you say laughing at the reference of being in the middle of nowhere. Which is exactly where you felt your marriage was at the moment, especially when Joel couldn't even look at you. 

"Yeah and who put you in that position girlie?" Tash says, staring daggers at you. You just looked at her dumbfounded, not understanding how any of this could be your fault.

With an eye roll she says "look, you needed to tell him you weren't happy, yes. But not right before you show up here, and not say it the way you did. That's a conversation for home girlie, not a fucking car ride" she says rolling her eyes.

"So what do I do Tash?" you ask in a defeated tone. "The asshole has yet to look at me all night, always talking to someone else. He hasn't even asked me for a dance either, and he knows that pisses me off" you tell her. 

"Well, show him what you want," she said. When you look at her puzzled, not understanding what she meant she adds "For Christ sake Y/n. Go over to your husband and flirt with his big dumb ass. Baby, he's hurting. You just told your husband that he can't fuck his wife right, and that he doesn't give you what you want. He's upset, hurt, and angry at himself. So he's doing everything he can to not think about it, or you, so he doesn't ruin your evening. So go over there and give that cowboy a ride he won't forget" she says, slapping you on the back laughing.

You giggle at her in return and then say, "I suppose I can go over there and show him how a real cowgirl drinks" you say screwing your face up. "Good thing I developed a strong taste for whiskey over the years cause that's all he's been drinking tonight."

After looking at Tash, you give her a big hug and say "thanks chica for always looking out for me. I love you."

"I love ya too, brat. Now go get your man and make sure to fuck him good tonight. Show him how you ride a real bull" she says laughing. 

"Jesus, Tash," you say laughing as you slowly walk away and go over to grab a whiskey on the rocks at the bar. You hated this stuff straight, but you were in the mood to impress the man who was your husband. So as you walk over to the 52 year old man, you quietly bite your lip and think to yourself well, here goes nothing.

Joel was talking to another contractor that you had recognized from the barbeque you held the year before. You remember meeting him there, his name was Dennis and his wife was Sharon. Dennis was about 10 years younger than Joel and still 5 years older than you. Yes, you and Mr. Grumpy pants were 15 years apart in age. You were 37, and Joel was 52. His wife Sharon was a year older than you, and you knew they had kids. But you couldn't remember how many, or how old their kids were.

As you approached Joel, you heard him talking about something with contract work, of pouring foundation, and how his one team member messed it up. You slotted yourself next to your husband and gently placed your hand on his leg, as he was sitting at a high bar table. After continuing their conversation, and neither man acknowledging your presence, you decided to move your hand a little further up on your husband's leg and gently squeeze it. When you still didn't get a response from him you slowly took another sip of the amber liquid in your glass, looking across the bar, as your hand slowly kept traveling upwards towards where you wanted him the most. You saw that Joel had registered your presence by slowly grinding his teeth with his jaw. As you slowly sipped your drink, looking the other direction, you continued your exploration. 

When you were about mid thigh range you heard Joel silently take a deep inhale, followed by a longer exhale. You knew your husband, and knew you were turning him on. As soon as you got to his upper thigh you felt Joel very quickly shove your hand out of the way, then he readjusted himself on the bar stool. After a moment you felt him open his legs a little wider. 

You looked down at your drink and smiled because Joel was giving you the warning not to continue, but also giving you the open door to continue if you wanted. Joel learned that move from you. He would always try to play with you when you'd be out on dates underneath the table. You'd shove his hand away hard, sit further up straight, but then once you'd relax you'd open your legs wider to allow him more access, if he so wanted. This was your classic move and when you grinned smiling down at your drink, Joel shook his head slightly laughing out loud to himself. Dennis took it as Joel was laughing at the joke he was telling, the poor guy. You knew in fact now that Joel wasn't even listening to him anymore, especially when he nudged your leg with his leg slightly. Telling you that he was paying attention to you with his body language, especially when he cleared his throat and then said "please continue" while looking at Dennis. When Dennis glanced away quickly you heard Joel say quietly to you "please continue darlin'" and then he nudged your leg again with his leg.

You couldn't let that silent plea go unheard, so after a few moments of rest to collect yourself and calm your nerves, you slowly started placing your hand higher up on his leg. This time you stopped one hand length below where you were last time, before he shoved your hand off. You let it rest there and then slowly squeezed his thigh, telling him you were still here. You slowly rubbed gentle circles on his leg in a soothing manner. He hummed his approval slightly, telling you that he was relaxed, content and comfortable with your hand position. But you weren't having it. When Joel went and took a drink of his whiskey you moved fast and reached to grab ahold of his crotch in a hard grip while adding a few firm strokes of his cock before you let your hand go. To an outsider it looked like you were scratching your leg. To Joel he spilled half his drink on himself muttering "Jesus Christ" while coughing horribly. People moved quickly around Joel to get napkins and you said "you okay honey? Don't die on me now. Here, I'll go get you another drink" and as you slowly stood you gave Joel a kind smile. Joel glared at you with steal eyes and muttered under his breath "trouble I tell ya, you're gonna fucking kill me woman."

You refilled Joel's glass, and as you were standing there at the bar you didn't know what your next move was going to be. You honestly never thought that far ahead. You knew you just walked right into the Lion's den and yanked the lion hard by the tail with a move you just pulled. You were racking your brain, trying to think of a good excuse that Joel would buy of why you did what you did when you heard behind you "you know, the first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were trouble. Tommy told me not to chase ya, but I didn't listen. Thought I knew what I was getting myself into. After that, I don't know anymore" Joel said, caging you between the bar and his chest, with your back against his chest. Joel slowly reached around and grabbed your drink while whispering in your ear, "let's see what type of liquid luck the lady's drinking tonight shall we?" He slowly put it to his lips and then hummed his approval as he downed the rest of the contents and slammed the glass back down on the bar. "You think you're clever at the little antics you just pulled?" Joel sneered in your ear.

You didn't respond right away. You knew now that you had pulled the lion by its tail, and that lion was named Joel, who was slowly snarling.

Your lack of response did nothing for Joel's mood, it actually made him angrier. He bent down and whispered in your ear "I asked you a question, love, and I expect an answer." He then slowly ground his pelvis into your ass, to show you why he was mad. He was hard as a fucking rock, and he felt himself throb in his pants. Your little antics spurred a different feeling inside of him, one that was dormant for a bit. The side to claim you as his in a very dominant way. The way he knew you loved and begged for. 

All night Joel talked with Dennis, not because he really wanted to, but because he needed time to mull over what you had told him in the truck. Joel prided himself on taking care of your needs, so when he heard that he wasn't fulfilling that duty, he took it to heart personally. He knew what you liked, he knew that you were adventurous and wanted a man to dominate you in the bedroom from time to time. He didn't know why the two of you stopped. He tried blaming it on kids, but he knew that wasn't the only reason. He was pissed at you for not communicating this to him, but he was more pissed at himself for not seeing it.

You stood facing the bar and felt a weird array of emotions. You could sense Joel's anger, could feel it radiating off from him. Usually in the past this would excite you beyond belief. But something here was different, and it made you feel uneasy. Without thinking, the only thing you said was "yellow."

Joel froze and eased back from you. You said yellow, a warning that you weren't comfortable, and something you never say. He immediately turned you around and said "okay, why yellow?" as he took a step back and placed his hands in his pockets. He acknowledged you, gave you space, and now wanted to know your boundaries. 

"You're mad" was all you said.

"Yes" was his only reply.

"Why Joel?"

"You know why, for the antics you just pulled." 

"I was just trying to have fun" you said, feeling tears sting your eyes. This was not the way you wanted this night to go.

"That wasn't fun Angel," Joel said, taking another step back to give you some more space.

"Neither was you ignoring your wife."

"I had my reasons tonight" Joel said matter of fact to you.

As you stood there it felt like he just smacked you across the face with his cold truth. You thought he wasn't intentionally trying to ignore you, but apparently you were wrong. Tash was right, you should have kept your big mouth shut earlier. 

You looked away and felt the sting hit your eyes of your tears. How did you two get this off track over the years? What happened to you both? You felt a burn hot in the back of your throat. You took a step away from the bar and pulled off your black lace lingerie panties that you had on for your husband tonight. You didn't think he'd be interested tonight in seeing them, but you wanted to give him something. You balled them up into your fist and stepped towards Joel. 

"Here, Happy Halloween. I'm going home now, don't worry, I'll get my own ride. You can do what you want with them I guess, cause I- I'm-" and you felt the tears begin to fall. You shook your head and said "this was all for you tonight, and for me to be seen again. I guess I read the situation wrong. And if I'm being honest, I think I've read you wrong a lot in life. I get it, things are different now. I should be grateful for what I get, and I am. I'll sleep on the couch tonight, and you can have the bed" you say as you turn to walk away. After taking a few steps you turn around and say "for what it's worth, I think you're the sexiest man in the world, and I love you."

As you turn back around to leave, you hear Joel say "Red," and then you freeze. He's never said red, never. And now honestly you're too afraid to ask why. But you know the rules; you give space, listen, and then comfort. You slowly turn and see him looking you straight in the eye again when he says it again. "Red y/n, I said fucking red."

You felt a large lump in your throat at his admittance and anger yet again. You swallow, and with a shaky breath you say, "ok Joel, why red?"

Joel takes a moment to contemplate how he's going to communicate this to you. He takes your lingerie and stuffs it in his back pocket as he approaches you and says "one, you thinking that I don't want this or you. Don't. Don't tell me how I feel y/n, ok?" Before you can respond he speaks again.

"Two, you are not getting a ride home from someone else. You are my wife and even if I am mad or upset with you, I don't ever want you to think I'm not going to keep you safe and take you home. Baby, I'll always take you home."

"Three, don't you give me those sexy lingerie and then think I don't find you attractive, or that I don't want to fuck you. Also, don't ever suggest that I should do it with someone else. That makes me angry. You're the woman I want, and the only woman for me. Understood?"

You just nod your head. "Ok, and finally" he says while taking a step closer to wipe your tears from your face and more gently says, "Finally baby, no one is on the couch tonight. You were feeling neglected honey, and I'm sorry. You're right, we shouldn't have talked about it right before we arrived. That was wrong for both of us, but we needed to talk. Baby, I fucking love you and I'm so damn attracted to you. And for the record, I wasn't ignoring you. I was giving you space and myself space so we both could figure our shit out. And you get what you ask for in life with me, and more. If your husband ain't rockin' your world, I need to know. But don't drop that bomb on me right before we do something like this together, ok? Now c'mere" Joel says while giving you a tender hug.

You both stand together, holding each other for a moment in a comfortable hug. It's right here in his arms that you feel comfortable, safe, protected, and at peace. He's the man that you've always wanted. He's your husband, best friend, and soulmate. As you pull away you look your husband in the eyes and say "ok big boy, take me home and fuck me," then you give him another peck on the lips.

"No baby, I think I got one better" he says as you both turn to head out the door. 

Joel practically dragged you out to his truck, and helped you inside.  He then jogged around to the front seat and then left in a hurry.  When Joel didn’t make the turn to go back to your house you looked over at him puzzled and said “where are we going?”  He just smirked at you and never answered, just turned the radio on and turned it up while singing along to John Mellencamp's 'Hurts So Good’ song.  

When Joel turned on a dirt road that wasn’t marked, adrenaline spiked in your veins.  You’ve never been out here, on this unmarked road, but obviously Joel had.  When he pulled up to a gravel pit, Joel turned the truck and started driving around the gravel pit and through some more trees.

“You know” Joel said, “that dress looks amazing on you tonight baby, kinda makes me hate what I’m gonna do in a moment.”

“What Joel, wh-what are you gonna do?” you whispered panic slowly setting in at how remote the two of you were.

“You’ll see darlin’” is all he said while he gave your knee a little squeeze.

“Joel, uh, baby. You ain’t gonna bring me out here and kill me now are ya?” you said with a small laugh, after all this was Halloween.

Joel looked over at you intently and when he looked back at the gravel path he said “nah babe, gonna do something much better.”

You felt panic spike up in your body and neck, along with desire.  Joel was playing it cool, not giving in to your panicked state that you felt.  He definitely had something planned, that much was certain, and you knew how this situation played out.  You’d find out either when the time was right or if you used a safe word.  But you knew that if Joel had something sexy planned that if you used a safe word it would stop, and you didn't want that. So you sat there quietly and tried to calm your anxiety.

Finally Joel stopped the truck and reached into the glove box pulling out a blindfold.  He held it up to you and said “turn darlin’ we gotta blind fold you for a bit.”  As you turned, you allowed Joel to place the blindfold comfortably on your face.  When he was done, he kissed the top of your head and said “ok baby, color?” You knew Joel was checking in with you, to see if you were still ok.

“I-I don’t know” is what you said to Joel in a quivering voice.  

“Yes you do darlin’, now come on baby, color” he said in a more soothing tone.

“Between green and yellow, honestly” you said while also adding “I want you to continue though, I’m just nervous and a little scared of what to expect considering all of what has happened tonight.”

You felt him gently wrap his arms around you and said softly in your ear “baby, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry for what has all happened tonight, trust me.  This is me making it up to ya. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen to ya, you can trust me darlin’. If ya want, I can take off this blindfold” he said while reaching to remove it.

“No,” you said, “leave it on Joel, I want you to leave it on.”

“Ok darlin’, I’m gonna help you outta the truck and then we are going to walk for a bit. I’ll help ya so you don’t fall, then I’ll remove the blindfold after we get to where we need to, ok.”

You nodded in agreement.  Joel tsked at that and said “words darlin’, you need to use your words for me.”  

“Yes Joel, I understand.”

“Good girl” he said while giving you a quick peck on the head.  

Joel then followed through with everything that he said he was going to do.  He helped you down and helped you walk through the forest a bit.  You had never been out here so you had no idea what to expect.  Finally after walking, and Joel communicating to you where to step, you two had arrived. He told you to wait for a second and you heard him walk around doing something, but you didn’t know what.  Finally after a bit he was back at your back.  He reached around you and told you quietly in your ear “gonna take this off from ya now. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell ya.”

You nodded in agreement, and he huffed saying  "Angel, I ain't gonna ask again. Words," and he lightly nipped your neck and jaw. 

"Yes Joel, I understand. I won't open my eyes."

"Good girl" he said while slowly grabbing your ass and squeezing. "You're always such a good girl f'me." He then gently kissed and lightly nipped your neck at your pulse point. Joel took his time going from your jaw down to your collarbone, and then shoulder. He'd nip you, then use his tongue to soothe the little love bite he just gave you. This drove you wild and he knew it. When he was done, he slowly removed the blindfold.  

Finally after a moment he told you to open your eyes and what you saw was the most romantic thing you had ever seen.  You two were in a little clearing that wasn’t very big, but Joel had lights strung all around the trees that were orange, red, green, and purple in color.  He had cute little Halloween decorations all around, a black blanket on the ground with a dozen pillows.  Two glasses of champagne, and a bottle that was sitting on ice already.  

“What, how?” is all you said looking around and taking notice of the most romantic scene in front of you. 

Joel stood to your side and said “you like it?” 

“Oh my god Joel, yes. It’s so amazing. But baby, how?  How did you do all this?” you asked wide eyed looking at your husband.

“Well, today at work Tommy and I cut out about 30 minutes into the morning to go work on this. The crews had it all under control. Tommy helped me, took us all morning and most of the afternoon. I picked all of it out at the store, and he helped me put it all up.  Teased the hell outta me all day about it, but it was worth it if you like it.”  

You stood there shocked and a little teary eyed at the effort that Joel put in.  As he could sense your mixed emotions he approached you and said “I know things haven’t always been that exciting recently with us, and I know I’ve been exhausted and tired a lot. Baby, I love you more than anything in this world. Tonight, this is for you. For us. For us to reconnect and rekindle that spark between us. I love you” and he slowly kissed you on the mouth. But he quickly pulled back before the kiss could turn heated and said, “come on, let's get comfortable.”

He led you over to the pillows and blanket and got you situated.  You noticed that he bought a whole pile of your favorite snacks and had them all out in little trays with covers on them.  He took the covers off, opened and poured your favorite champagne, and then put some romantic music on.  

The two of you spent the next hour talking, laughing, and joking like you used to do before kids, and the crazy life that you had.  After you had finished the bottle of alcohol you said to your husband “this was perfect Joel, thank you” and then you kissed him on the cheek.

As you pulled away he grabbed your chin and said “that’s not a kiss baby,” while slowly stroking your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh it isn’t” you said teasing, "I thought it was" while gently batting your eyelashes at him.

"No darlin', that's not a proper kiss for your husband who wants you."

 “Then show me big boy, show me what is.” And with that you heard Joel growl low and crash his lips onto yours.  

The next thing you knew you were straddling your husband's lap and grinding down on his crotch hard, trying to get some friction.  He still had your lace underwear in his back pocket. Asshole knew what he wanted to do tonight, you thought. You had a sneaky suspicion that Joel had the plan of getting you out of those lace panties sometime earlier so you could do this without any barriers between you.

After a few more glides of your hips, and a few moans out of your mouth, Joel was unbuckling his pants and taking his hard cock out and thrusting it hard up inside of you.  As soon as he did that you moaned at him stretching you so fast and deep.  “Fuck babe, you’re so perfect for me. Been thinking about fucking this pussy all day, fuck” he said while he started snapping his hips hard up into you.  He wrapped one of his arms around you and tangled his hand into your hair while the other rested on your hip and he helped you grind yourself down into his lap as he fucked up into you.

The two of you were a moaning mess, both chasing your highs fast.  “Joel right there” you moaned as Joel moved both hands to your hips and was moving them back and forth hard and fast. “Fuck baby” you said as you tipped your head back and gave over to your pleasure.  Your senses were heightened dramatically outside and you were getting close.  

Then you felt Joel wrap his arms around you again and then slam you to the ground pounding into you hard and fast saying “fuck woman, why haven’t I fucked ya like this before.”

“Joel” you whined, “baby, please, please I need to-”

“What do you need darlin’, come on, use those pretty words” he said while he continued to fuck you hard and fast.

“God, shit, fuck” you yelled as that coil inside you was winding tighter in your low belly, getting ready to snap.

“Come on mama, say it” he growled in your ear as he placed both forearms on the side of your head, giving you that contact you desperately were craving.  “Come on baby, tell me or I’ll stop” he said, biting your jaw and neck in the process.

“I need to fuck so bad Joel, damn, baby. Please, let me.” you said trying to move him off from you so you were back on top.  He knew what you needed, that you wanted to ride him hard and fast with your hips.  And he loved it when you did, but this was something else. Something primal that was in Joel’s body, his need to claim you as his, to mark you as his.  So he moved his arms underneath your knees and hiked them up and adjusted his position so he was getting more deeper inside of you when he growled “not this time baby, let your husband fuck ya ok. When I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me the way you need to pretty girl, got it.” he said as he swiveled his hips and slammed harder into you.

The angle he put you in was something that caused your eyes to roll back into your head.  He was hitting those parts of you that were deep, that you had forgotten that he could reach. You wanted him to do this more at home and you made a mental note to fix the headboard so it wouldn’t slam against the wall and wake up your kids. You wanted him to do this position more frequently.  

After a few more thrusts and grunts from both of you, you felt your walls flutter around your husband’s cock.  Joel could sense it and said “ya gonna cum for me baby, you wanna come on daddy’s cock?” And as soon as you heard him use the term daddy, you were gone and your orgasm took you like a tsunami. You were mumbling incoherent words, most of them being shit, fuck, or Joel, Joel, Joel from your mouth.

Joel slowed his pace down a bit and slowly was rocking back and forth into you as your orgasm took you.  He was giving you praise. “Good girl, good girl baby, that’s it. Don’t fight it, come on mama, you got it” over and over again.  It felt like this orgasm took a time to die down, but Joel continued rocking into you back and forth through all of it. When you finally came back down to Earth, you opened your eyes and looked up at your husband. Sometime during your orgasm Joel had lowered your legs, and wrapped them around his waist. He was gently stroking your hair, looking at you like he was the happiest man on Earth.

“Wow” was all you said slightly laughing at how fucked out you were.

“Pretty intense there wasn’t it mama” he said while smiling down at you and kissing you passionately.

“Yeah it was Joel, damn. I-I didn’t know”

“See” he said interrupting you “daddy still has a few tricks up his sleeve there darlin.’” You felt Joel slowly start to rock into you back and forth a little faster but still at a leisure rate, giving you praises and affection. You, not realizing what he was doing, opened your hips wider for him and wrapped your legs around him tighter as he continued to rock into you.  Joel just smirked at you, knowing full well what he was doing.  He was building you for another orgasm, and you weren’t realizing it, something that he cursed himself for that he needed to do more often with you.  

As he started to pick up the pace a little, deepening his thrusts you moaned “Fuck Joel, I-”

“I know mama, I know” he said, closing his eyes and trying to will his impending release off a bit so he could give you what you needed.  When he opened his eyes he looked into yours and saw that you were staring into his soul. You whispered “I need you husband.”

Joel smoothed his hand over your hair and whispered “I know baby, I see you, and I’m right here.”  Joel then bent down and passionately kissed you as he deepened his motions.

You needed your husband. You needed him to kiss away the pain you both had been feeling recently.  The heartache of feeling ignored, of feeling left behind, of not finding a connection.  That is what you craved the most, the connection with your spouse.  It was in this moment, with the way he was looking at you, and how he was making you feel, that you felt the two of you were connecting again.  The two of you stared into each other’s eyes as Joel slowly made love to you in the woods. 

Joel rocked into you a few more times, loving the way your walls dragged up and down his cock. After a bit he stilled and moved his arms underneath your legs again to deepen his reach. As he bent down he kissed the tip of your nose and said “I’m gonna give this to you hard and fast again baby. And you’re gonna be a good little girl and come all over daddy's cock with that pretty little pussy again, ok? Then I’m gonna take you home, and fuck you on every surface of our house again, making sure you remember who this pussy belongs to. When I'm through with that, we'll end up in our bed. I’m gonna take advantage this one time of our boys not being home, and I'm gonna make sure that headboard is slamming so fucking hard against that wall tonight, getting deep inside that beautiful little pussy. Then when I’m through fucking ya every way I want, including multiple times with my mouth darlin', I’m then going to slow down and make love to my beautiful wife like she deserves.  You got that darlin'?” he said as he kissed your nose again.

“Joel, if we do that much love making I’m gonna get pregnant again. I’m off the pill, remember, and about mid-cycle. I don’t remember us having that many condoms,'' you say laughing a bit at how descriptive your husband was at his intentions with you. If you were being honest, you were trying to ignore the excited feeling that you had about wanting him to do all of that to you. But you had to be serious, and had to remind him that you weren't on the pill anymore. Your body needed a break from the pill, and because of some weird lab test results that your doctor had seen, she wanted you to stop birth control and go back to using condoms for a few months.

“Well darlin’” Joel said with a smirk on his face “I guess I’ll just have to give you that little girl that you’ve always wanted then, ain’t I.”  And with that, the two of you fell into an intense stride.  Grunting and rutting into one another like two animals in heat, him trying to get in you as deep as he could, and both of you connecting both physically and emotionally with each other.  

You eventually both fell over the edge together, panting each other’s names, him coming deep inside of you. Secretly you loved how your favorite Holiday gave you everything that you have ever wanted in this world. You loved everything about the man right above you, especially when he said "fuck wife, I need you" as he painted your walls with his white ropes of love. You fully submitted to him that night, and allowed him to give you everything in this Life and more. And when the night ended, with both of you finally sated, and in each other's arms once again. Joel finally gave you that little girl that you've always wanted.   

A/N: Happy Halloween guys 🎃

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze

#joel miller #joel and reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller masterlist #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #halloween smut #halloween story

[sin-sidejob]

Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 2

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both + reminder, I may be an english major but this thing is barely proofread

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, RAW SEX (wrap that rascal), monster-fucking, tentacle fucking, inhuman creatures, furry fucking? One brief scene of alluded almost sexual assault/assault (that gets stopped and interrupted) incredibly vague nothing actually happens, drug use/roofied/narcotics, I guess, werewolf (slight A/B/O dynamics), breeding kink, talks of missing body parts and death, cockwarming, somnophilia the undead, zombies, doctor play, doctor kink, doctor/fake patient, living dead, experimentation with cadavers and dead bodies, mention of illness/cancer, various Halloween-y phenomena + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and pussy, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing. Southernification of Robotus (you’ll see) + probably more

! ! ! This is part two, with Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc. Part one, located here, includes Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character ! ! !

Reagan Ridley: MAD SCIENTIST

• songs: Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand

- You were used to the chaotic cadence that came with knowing and loving the reclusive Dr. Ridley, enjoying the maniacal dynamic and aiding her in her experiments, helping her tidy up should a test go awry. You aided her in all her endeavors, even the unsightly ones, and that dedication and mutual trust blossomed into friendship and then eventually love and list. Simple creatures, you two were, and instincts were a gravitational pull as equally potent to magnets as to mankind.

- The latter half of the year, when the weather turns and the leaves change and shed their green covers to don the classic golden hues, is when she came alive even more. She found energy in the fall and winter weather, more likely to be within the confines of her laboratory and adding scrawled, scratch-like lines into her notebooks and texts, running about with her coat billowing behind her like a shadow tethered to her, fluttering beside her with the grace of a conspirator.

- There were times when she would not need your assistance and you would be free and left to your own devices, wandering about the extravagant library and traipsing through the halls, snooping where you shouldn't, and happily receiving your punishments. Life was good and continued to be so, almost mundane in an unnatural, phenomenal way. There was no dark side of the moon to you, only the light because the shadows were your home, and the person you called lover languished alongside you in Moonglow-shaded craters.

- But your favorite moments had to be when it was you she was examining, you who she was teasing and playing with, black patent leather gloves that were entirely unsafe and unethical in a lab environment used on your form, drawing out pinpricks of chills. Especially now as Reagan hums at the sight of your disheveled state, silent beside her idle noises and internalized dialogue as if she is annotating already-written notes within the confines of her brain of you as her hands draw out more data to analyze, almost pulling all your secrets pool forth from moaning lips via her ministrations.

- Reagan is seldom tender or ginger in her touch, not in a harshness but more in a neutral, guiding, directing manner. Like moving you about with the same grace as working with her equipment and tools, movements memorized and muscles well-accustomed to all that you are. She can be softer, in aftermath moments where your body and senses can not make heads or tails of where the two of you ended or began, fully enwrapped and enveloped in one another like coiled vines of ivy, cascading upwards and intertwining in great efforts. But now, her touch is not soft, but steady and purposeful.

- Cold gloves remove clothing and secure straps onto your body, across your limbs, and holding you tight against a weathered and soft wooden table, built with the intention to be used for medical seminars and demonstrations. You lay, naked and taut upon a staged table in the center of an empty auditorium for the use of educational experimentation presentations and viewing seminars for research and study. The arena on her property is empty, no event planned for today, just the two of you in the grand room and feeling infinitesimally small, yet powerful simultaneously.

- "Not too tight?" Dr. Reagan Ridley asks softly as she busies herself with hovering over the straps that secure your wrists and ankles to the examination table, gloved hands running along oiled leather seams. "Perfect." is your answer and her smile matches the word, pride in her eyes at her wonderful assistant, her previous lover. "There's my darling, now what are te rules?" she asks, unbuttoning her labcoat to expose her blouse and slacks beneath, slinky and clinging to her body in a way that makes your firsts clench just so, palms opening and closing with the yearning need to touch.

- "Nuclear is stop, gradient is slow down, and prism is keep going, or good." you answer, squirming a bit against the restrains for show and shuffling your ass against the soft wood, feeling the cool air caress your exposed, already leaking pussy. "Wonderful," the Doctor trails off, wandering away from the table and leaving you to lay spread and scan your eyes across the planetarium-painted ceiling above and marvel at the gold leaf details in the stars and constellations, drawing you back in when she returns and adjusts her gloves with a small thwack, "now, where should we begin?"

- You don't respond immediately, not knowing how or where to answer, unable to distinguish a clear mood in her dark eyes for what she wants and what she is planning to take from you. The hesitation makes Reagan decide on her own, a dark chuckle emerging from her lips and settling in the base of your spine, curling like a funnel stormcloud. "Alright then, guess it's up to Doctor's orders." She smooths softened leather against your inner thighs and parts your lips, blowing cool air in puffs against your exposed cunt and clicking her tongue in notes as her mind wanders in fascination.

- "I think I'll start here, test your sensitivity first hmm?" she asks aloud, mainly to herself, the table raised to her waist so she can easily maneuver around you and toy with you, like a doll. It feels all like a pleasurable version of The Princess Bride's pit of despair but mixed with a sex dungeon and none of the latex. "There, how does that feel?" it feels good, decent, not enough as the first portion of her pointer finger breaches your walls, the texture not adding much besides a cooler sensation. You answer the same, and she hums before moving on, shifting in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sly sway.

- "Space for improvement, good." she comments, a stray hair falling into her forehead from her tight ponytail, dark hair pulled back and away from her face and allowing you to fully watch her move and her shifting expressions. She thrusts the finger into you, slowly and watching as you clench around her, gaping and closing in a rhythmic pattern. "And this?"

- "its g-good too," you choke out, shifting your head from looking at her to nothing, eyes shut and you try not to squirm, letting her venture as she pleased, "but not good enough?" Reagan asks, and you nod in agreement, prompting her to curl her finger upwards, matching with her second finger, and smirking, brows arching as she watches you grow more and more disheveled.

- "ah," you moan out, lip tugged between your teeth as you bite down, fists clenching and unclenching once the pleasure begins to initially build, feeling it bubble forth in your belly like a tide pool on the beach, collecting and growing as more gets put into it. "Now that's a reaction, keep speaking beautiful." she directs, curling in upward strokes from within your walls

- You nod, mewling a bit as your voice breaks and pitches, feeling her slide in another digit, pointer finger to ring finger all slotted. Her gloves are thicker, making the stretch a bit wider than what you're accustomed to, and you break a tad, grinding your hips down and wriggling, aching to get something more, and that something ends up being Reagan's attention.

- "Oh this won't do, I think you need some more advanced methods." Reagan murmurs, enjoying the look on your face as she steps back and out of your line of vision, holding back laughter as you whine and make confused tones, wondering why she stopped when she had finally gotten to the good part. "Easy now, just a moment, you can be patient for me, can't you?"

- "Yes, Doctor." She whips her head around and drops the tool in her hand, and you're worried for a second she didn't like you saying that but she arrives moments later with a silicone dick and a small vibrator in hand, accompanied by a sly grin. "Doctor, hm? We're keeping that." she states as she sets the items in her hands down beside you on the flat table, now away from your sight before you could see any of the specific characteristics or facets.

- You squirm again, chills from the exposed air finally overriding the pleasure in your veins and cooling your body. Reagan tuts at that, smoothing her dry glove up your thigh in an attempt to warm you up, "phrase?" she asks, gentle and present as she looks at you. "Prism." she smiles and nods before her expression shifts, popping the cap off a bottle of lube and warming it between her hands as she looks you over, a small smile emerging once she spots your cunt, clenching around nothing from the show she put on of her rubbing her palms together with her exposed forearms rippling.

- "Ready for me?" she asks, adjusting her gloves and then sucking off the slick residue from her one hand, purposely staring you down as she does it with intent. "Always, Doctor." a shudder that she fails to try and hide rolls through her spine at that, not fully used to you ever calling her that, especially when you're bare and at her mercy.

- "good answer." Reagan responds, lubing up the silicone and sliding it through your folds slowly, watching as you tense and begin to grind. Her hand plants your hip down still, forcing it to stop as she fixes you a warning look while she props the dick near your cunt.

- Sliding it in, she sinks the silicone dick deep into you and watches as your cunt takes it in, noting aloud how the gloves prepped you better than what she does manually glove-free. Keening out, you force yourself still and feel her hand move to instead grip your hip instead of planting it still, guiding you along in a tempo that matches the ministrations of her other hand, fucking the fake dick into you over and over slowly, picking up the pace gradually.

- "That seems to be treating you better. You agree?" barely managing a nod, you respond with a grunting moan as she angles the silicone against a spot of nerves, making you jolt and gasp. "I'll take that as a yes." Reagan jokingly responds to herself, reaching the hand once on your hip to reach away and grab the vibrator, eager to get your pent-up self breaking and shattering like glass.

- You don't realize what's happening, too blissfully unaware due to how she continues flicking her wrist, rocking the dick into you at a pace that builds tension but doesn't get that knot of pleasure unraveling at all. When the vibrator comes to life and thrums in her hand, your head whips up in that instant Pavlovian response, knowing she's about to make you see God.

- "Holy fuck please use that thing on me." you blurt out immediately, drawing a laugh from her that's dark while she fixes you a warning look, a brow raised and you rush to find your words. "Please, Doctor." Reagan hums, pleased, and then reaches down to plant the vibrator on your clit, rolling it in circles and shapes that make your legs struggle against the stirrup-like straps, body wriggling and squirming as it tries to get comfortable to handle getting fucked this way.

- "Well would you look at that, pretty damn effective." She muses, upping the vibrator speed casually with one hand as the other splits you open on the silicone cock with ease. "Next time we're going to have to test this with having both of your holes filled, probably get you squirting in minutes."

- The idea alone that she planted like a seedling in your head blooms, making you even more turned on if possible. The way the dick nestled the spots inside that already got you seeing stars? Multiplying the effect. And now the vibrator rolling over your clit and thrumming incredibly sends you over the edge, barely able to warn her coherently before you cum with a squealing moan.

- "Fucking gorgeous," Reagan marvels, fucking you through it and lowering the setting on the vibrator, still keeping it there but rolling it in softer, smoother motions while she gently fucks the dick into you, working through an orgasm that she manages to draw out for roughly a minute or so. "So goddamn pretty like this."

- She keeps going for a while until your legs stop shaking, then she removes the toys from you and moves about, undoing the straps and stirrups holding you then grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping you up in it. You sit up and scoot over to the side of the table, legs hanging off as Reagan stands before you, smoothing your hair back and checking you over.

- She busies herself with rolling her fingers over the slightly indented marks where the straps were, double checking to make sure you were okay but she doesn't catch your adoring, sleepy look until you tap at her arm and then raise your hand to lift her chin, beaming dazedly at her. "Hi Reagan." you murmur, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw lazily.

- "Hello yourself, feeling okay?" she asks, amusement in her tone as she looks you over, making sure you're fully covered in the blanket and warm, trying to prevent you from getting overly cold.

- You giggle and look up at her, grinning wide and honest, "I could not be any fucking better than I am right now, now gimme' a kiss." Reagan obliges, and everything fades as it always does around her, in the best and most comforting blur.

Brett Hand: FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

• song: Body - Mother Mother or My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine

- Brett wishes he could manage to carve a place for himself in your life and at your side with as much ease as he has with loving you, completely enthralled and enamored with everything you are, all that you’ve been, and all that you’ll be. He’s fascinated by you and the intricacies in your movements and routines, the way your brows furrow when confused or frustrated, the smile you don’t show unless you’re caught by surprise and unable to remember hiding it.

- He gathers these little facets of yourself like river rocks and stones, wearing them down in the revisits of his memory, rolling them flat and small but soft in the way he reveres them. If only you loved him like he loved you. If only you actually knew him, not just of him. You’ve met before, known of each other practically since his initial creation. Yet he’s not satisfied because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, only knowing you at the arms reach that he has from you helping him and fixing him up.

- You’re an assistant to his father, his creator, an up-and-coming scientist fascinated with his methods in Reanimation and modern-age necromancy, hoping to study his techniques and model some of his talents with your own. His father, Dr. Quentin Hand, made all of his siblings as initial creations and had Brett last, the youngest and most rushed one of the collection. He was an accumulation of spare parts, the battered bits left in the barrel, a literal representation of what comes from patchwork scientific craft and lacking interest. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him kindly or matched his father's lack of enthusiasm.

- No, you treated him carefully, just like the rest of his siblings. You gave him extra attention and care, sewing back on fingers should they get snagged and fall off his hand, making a few jokes all the while you thread the needle and fish it in and out of his flesh about how his hand’s should be better taken care of, especially since it’s his last name.

- his heart was monitored and he prayed you hadn’t caught the speeding up of the pace, the rapid ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of his pre-owned heart firing off in awe of you and your presence. If you did, you don’t mention it and you just continue hemming and stitching him back together, returning his ring finger back onto his left hand with care, humming all the while some song stuck in the back of your head.

- “there,” you nearly startle him, pulling him from his reverie with a pat to his knee as you sit up from your chair and clean up, putting your supplies away and disinfecting, “all fixed. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your seams again and I’ll patch you up — no sweat.” His eyes, one hazel and the other bright blue, peer up at you with nothing short of pure adoration. It’s always there, poor boy can’t do anything to hide it. He just loves you is all.

- "Thank you, I'm sorry you have to always fix me up all the time." Brett states, rubbing his arm subconsciously, truly meaning it and knowing it had to be at least a little redundant to mend him after every trip and fall or tumble down the steps. Poor thing had no balance, something you try to work on in your spare time between projects and lessons with Brett's father. You turn, taking your gloves off and disposing of them while looking his way, a sad frown on your face making his dissipate like smoke. "Why are you sorry for that? It's not something you can help, sweet boy, and besides --" you trail off while stepping near him and fixing his hair and looking down at his still-sitting form, "I'm happy to help you, its what I'm here for!"

- and with that, you depart, heading to another appointment to experiment under supervision, He dreads the days that come forward now, nearing when you would be leaving since your education under the apprenticeship of his father ends to a close. You'd be gone, with your own experiments and helpers, a life completely devoid of him. he likes to think you'd write him or call, maybe see his name scrawled in your looping cursive handwriting and hear your words drawn across a page and yearn to find your love within them.

- but even he, Brett, a lovesick optimist knows that would be too good to be true. Within the month, you'd pack and leave and the spanning acres of his family's estate would be empty of your presence. Your quarters would miss your belongings, the posters, and art on the walls, the little personal items and books littered about. It would be as if you were never there, but to Brett, he would always remember you being there. He may have been reanimated, but the days where you roamed the halls and came across his sight were the only days he felt truly alive.

- Little did he know that you had been planning your departure for years and hoped you would go about it, what exactly you would leave or sell, what you would pack, how you would pack, and who you would take with you. "Dr. Hand, I have a request," you start, making casual conversation while you've currently got your forearms embedded in a cadaver's inner organs, organizing things, "I was wondering if I could take one of the experiments with me when I leave early this week?"

- Doctor Quentin Hand is no meek creature, nor does his stature indicate such. he was almost frighteningly tall, but with age has developed a slight hunching slouch making him roughly 6'5 with the rugby player's stature. The man is thick and bulky, with a head full of auburn hair turning grey and the shade of sunned strands with his age. "Depends on which of the creations you'd call to you, and if they'd like to go. The eldest are off limits, but should one of the children agree, you are free to take them. But only one."

- he is currently invested in combining chemicals to inject within the bloodstream when reanimation is to take place later, and luckily so. He misses your entire face light up, beaming from ear to ear behind your surgical mask and eyes glowing with excitement. "I've already decided who I'd like to bring with me."

-"Oh?" he doesn't even turn, swirling an open beaker that smells of disinfectant and acid, "who?". Dr. Hand shows no concern and even that worries you, knowing there was little love shown to the creations, and none whatsoever to your favorite. "I was planning to take Brett, the youngest of them."

-He waves a gloved hand and nods, "Of course, pack his things if he hasn't already. Be sure to invest in a lot of sutures and sewing materials as well, you will definitely need it." if you didn't need this formal apprenticeship, you would've killed him with his own reanimating equipment. "Yes sir."

- later, when you have cleaned up, changed, and wrapped up the experiment which once again went as a success, you settle down in your room and continue backing up your personal belongings into extra bags and suitcases for the items you gathered in your time here. A record plays, crackling initially but still pouring out the cadence of the Lungs album from Florence + The Machine as you wander about, clearing your shelves and delicately folding posters and emptying the walls.

- just as you flip over the vinyl to the b side, a knock rattles against your door. When you open it, you didn't expect Brett's tear-stained face to be the first thing you see. Nor did you expect him to rush and hug you, drawing you into his form and holding you close while he buries his head in your shoulder. "Why do you have to leave?"

- You think it's cruel, but it was always going to be a surprise for you to take him with you. The feelings were obvious and only reciprocated a few months ago. Sadly, you couldn't act on them until you got out from under the eyes of Doctor Quentin for Brett's sake and safety. But now that's not a worry, and you leave after breakfast tomorrow morning with the patchwork babydoll of a man before you.

- The sight enough is heartbreaking, especially with the direct feel of his tremors shaking through him, and then through you with the closeness. It takes several attempts to ease his cries and pry him up from your shoulder, stepping back to close the door behind him then flicking the lock shut before you cup his cheek and lift his head upwards. "Brett, sweetheart, how could you think I'd leave without you?" you soothe, thumbs rolling over his cheek and swiping tears away. "I wanted to surprise you but I think you need to hear it now, I'm taking you with me. I was never going to leave without you in the first place."

- Brett blinks blearily, wiping the tears from his multicolored eyes to stare at you openly and dart his gaze between your own eyes. "You're serious?" he asks, still buried in disbelief, "why would you want to take me, you barely even like me." Brett's met with laughter, not caustic or harsh and at his expense like what he's used to, yours is lighthearted and kind, just like your eyes. "Sweetheart, I care for you a great deal beyond just liking you." you say, taking his hands in yours, the ones you've constantly tended to like the rest of him.

- "What does that mean?" Brett asks, squeezing your hands tight and finding it impossible to look anywhere in the room besides your face. "It means I love you, silly thing, and I refuse to let you stay here any longer when you deserve the world. Let me show it to you." His tears reappear again but its relief, the feeling that swarms his body and makes him feel shrouded in Moonglow. You care for him, you love him, that his years of pining after you and hoping, praying for a miracle were worth it. You loved him, your silly ragdoll.

- "Say it again." he says, his hands moving from yours to your waist, brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up with ease, aching to feel more of your warm skin in his palms. "I love you Brett." you murmur, forehead pressed to his as you press your palms to his chest, fingertips tracing the material of his henley while humming in a pleased tone once his hands begin to wander.

- "One more time." he whispers as he leans forward to catch your lips with his, admiring how your eyes flutter shut when he does. You kiss, lips shifting back and forth as you murmur how you loved him into his open mouth like a secret, and he'd cherish and protect it as such. Brett pulls back, palms cupping your warm cheeks just as you had previously with tender grace and you spot his tears have ended.

- "I will never let you down," he promises, smile bright and crooked, perfectly him and equally as charming, "I swear, you'll never regret this, never." and you know its the truth, not because he says it but because you've known for ages that there was no one else you'd care for this much. As if he was made solely for you, perfectly patchworked together.

- In an act of bravery or stupidity, you grab his hand and step backward towards your still-made bed, peering up at him from lidded eyes. "I know that, but how about you show me just how much you love me right here, hm?" you tease, loving how his mouth fell agape and his arms fled to your waist again, eagerness steeped into his actions like tea. "Can I?" brett asks, always the soft, chivalrous, perfect man. "Absolutely." you respond, already ushering out of the shirt and baring your chest to his hungry, heterochromial eyes.

- he spares no time in crowding you against the bed, climbing atop your languid form and pressing doting kisses at your lips then making his way down to your neck, eagerly leaving hickeys and marks while he undoes your belt and shucks your pants down. He bares your underwear to him and leaves you to kick off your socks with your pants, making a pile on your rug you don't mind at all. "Can I taste you?" he practically pleads, lifting up to stare down at you, beating you to the question you were just about to ask him, making you laugh once more, still that lighthearted sweet sound. "Maybe later, and then ill be able to suck you off. Right now I just want you in me, Brett. That okay?"

- he's torn between crying, busting a load in his jeans, or both. Brett just nods, lip tugged between his teeth and moving with all the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy, kneeling on the floor to help you slide off your underwear and nearly drooling the second he spots your bare cunt. He's running on more basic, bare instincts but wants nothing more than to flood your cunt with his cum and keep it there, keep himself there as long as he can. Never wants to leave you, and he never wants the marks and signs of him on you to fade either.

- "are you-" "yes I'm sure Brett, now can you please take your clothes off so I can ride you?" he nearly trips over himself in the process of standing and yanking off his shirt, which he does in that hot lift it from the back of the neck and tug it forward trademark style that has a new layer of slick pool forth. His jeans are mid-rise but are slung low, boxers peaking out briefly before he abandons those too, revealing one appendage you never had to mend. You're a bit glad, you ended up with a surprise too tonight, who would've thought?

- Brett returns, not knowing where to sit or lay until you shove him back to sit against the pillows upright, allowing you to sit on his lap and lay your arms over his shoulders while hovering, teasing before you to be gifted this man's virginity just like you were given his heart and soul. "You sure, baby?" you murmur, knees outside of his own and pressed chest to chest, "I can wait however long you need to." Brett grins, playful and teasing in his own way, and nips at your lip. "I'm okay, m'good, cant wait t'see what it feels like to be buried in you, probably even warmer than you feel right now." He emphasizes with a large and running up your bare spine, sending you arching and your knees threatening to buckle. You sometimes forget how big he is, and with the hefty dick bobbing near his stomach, you're not sure how you could have ever forgotten.

- "Take me then, babydoll" and he does, large hands encompassing your hips as he guides you to sit on his dick, slowly letting it enter and let you get accustomed, "there you go, nice and - fucking tight" Brett murmurs, voice deeper and getting you more riled up than you know what to do with. You had seen him bare plenty of times, but never fully, and the experience was doing you wonders right now as you rested for a moment and let him breathe before you started bouncing on him and making him cum way earlier than you know he'd like. You'd enjoy it anyway.

- He whines after a few moments, his hips shifting and making you both groan, his head falling back into the pillows and his fair falling into disarray, strands of auburn and reddish brown falling into his forehead. "Please, just fuck me, have me I just need you." Brett whines into your neck again, no tears this time as his arms wrap tautly around your form, allowing you to feel divinely sculpted muscles hold you tight and made your walls clench, relishing in his squeaking moan. You'd break him. good thing you know how to put him back together. "Easy baby, I've got you." you murmur, smoothing back his hair before you lower to your haunches and lift your hips, slamming back down and sending him yelling your name while biting his teeth into your shoulder.

- Oh yes, you were absolutely going to break him.

- You fuck yourself on him, feeling his hands grip and drag across your body as you use him, rolling your hips in shapes, occasionally spelling his name out through your gyrations and smiling to yourself as you watch him fall further and further into a mess, hair mussed, mouth agape and eyes tight shut. The skin of his lip is nearly broken open from how much he's bitten and tugged on it, puffy and reddened on his flushed and freckled face. Brett rises and clings back onto you, suddenly shifting his hips and fucking up into you, letting you hear louder slaps of skin against skin while he manhandles you. "M'gonna' cum, gotta' cum can I please cum — I wanna cum so bad, please." he begs, planting kisses at your collarbone and pulse sporadically between broken moans and pants.

- You never expected the reaction nor your own, unable to fight the feeling emanating from your soaked and silken cunt as he fucks up into it, stretching you wide in a way you'll never be tired of. "You can cum, go on and fill me, Brett, wanna' feel you for days. Please Brett, make me feel good." your boy delivers, jackhammering into you and making you cry out, tugging at his hair while his hands plant themselves at your waist in order to maneuver you around, biting deep at your shoulder when he cums with a broken, shattered shout of your name.

- The way his hips stutter in that frantic pattern, battering your cunt that has you squirming and grinding, you cum rapidly and heavily, whiting out and feeling your surroundings blur to nothing as you repeat his name over and over, clawing down his back as he slows and finally stops, holding you impossibly close. You take longer than he does recover and return to the world, head lolled back and breathing heavy, allowing brett to lay the two of you down and upon the pillows, wrestling the comfort and sheets over your sweat-slicked body and his.

- He always wanted to be a part of your life, and now, years later, he can't stop smiling and hasn't stopped since. Your silly, smiling ragdoll of a husband.

Andre Lee: W E R E WO L F

• song: Howlin’ for You - The Black Keys

- Andre was superficially open, not talking of more intimate aspects of his life but being carelessly free with the rest, and the personal factoids and tidbits emerge in passing comments in conversation send your brain whirling.

- he’s never answered any of your questions as to why he avoids full moons or why he’s unreachable during some times of the month, closest you’ve gotten was Myc cracking a joke about menstruation but you know damn well from a fuck ton of personal experience that he’s absolutely packing heat.

- he’d been sick the past few days, not fully present in meetings and a bit light headed. It got shrugged off as side effects from any number of drugs but you knew better. The disregard and dismissals that came from him when you showed concern were what made that worry and concern grow, manifesting and sprawling into a thorny expanse of knots tugging at your conscious, fixated on helping him.

- so you stand before an older home, 1920’s brick masonry hidden behind modern day paint, sidled beside the other brownstones on the block and fish out your key on the chain he gifted you, a little cartoonish duck smiling brightly while flipping you off, and turn the series of locks in the door while balancing some takeout on the other side.

- after several moments, you make it inside and lock back up, setting your keys alongside Andre’s in the bowl near the door and spotting the matching fuck duck keychain and smiling before making your way through the house, easily navigating through the darkness and making it to the kitchen to drop off some takeout for the egg drop soup he always ordered when sick. “Andre?” You get no response, the house quiet and your brows furrow while your lips purse, that worry unfolding again, “sugar? Where are you?” You get no response and your words echo in the house

- you get no response but you hear a groan, muffled and heady, soft and barely heard. But it’s his, and you drop everything in your hands upon the counter and follow the sound, brain a slurry of what ifs and remembering his medical history should you need it. By the time you make it back further in the house and to his bedroom, the doors locked shut. Real shut. You knock harshly and call to him, voice a bit desperate “Andre honey, you okay?”

- “go away.” It’s him, but not, deeper and meaner that the Andre you’re used to. It’s not a deterrent. “Not if you’re not okay, let me in.” You try the doorknob again and he shouts out “it’s not safe for you right now, go away.” He says more but you don’t hear it through the door. “What do you mean it’s not safe, Andre let me in.” you cry back, banging the side of a fist against the door, beating it loudly trying to persuade him to let you in. Probably not the most convincing manner.

- “GO! You’re not supposed to be here, m’gonna hurt you.” confusion could not even begin to explain what was going through your head, throat taut with fear, “Andre, I could give a fuck, I’m not leaving you like this.” He’s pleading in a sad rage, like a storm with no lightning, all thunder, “I don’t want t’hurt you, please, please just go.” You refuse, and say the same before you break the lock on the door then try and come in, not getting through until you back up and ram a shoulder into it once, twice, finally busting it on the third impact.

- he had warned you for good reason, and the yellow eyes that meet your gaze from a huddled, shadowed corner solidify that. “Should’ve run.” comes murky from him, his mouth moving oddly and you realize with horror he’s not in his regular body. It’s a larger, hulking form of shaggy fur in muted brown and chestnut hues, dusted with black and grey into a slurry of fur. A fucking wolfman was not on your list. “Werewolf?”

- “Yeah.”

- “Considering our jobs — this isn’t all too horrifying.” He bares his teeth, canines glinting, “I take that back — somewhat.” Andre chuckles, darker but remains curled in on himself in the corner of the room, staying far away from you. “Why am I not supposed to be here sugar?” You ask softly, stepping hesitantly further into the room and eyeing him warily, unsure about the entirety of this situation and wishing Elliot fucking Mothman had better-prepped staff for other forms of cryptids.

- “‘cause I’ll fuck y’ and I won’t stop.” He growls out, nails digging into knees bare of clothing and covered in fur, “not safe f’you, I could hurt you.” He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, eyes turned away and trying to shrink as far as possible into the corner, wanting to keep you at bay before his senses and instincts took over and took you. Andre doesn’t see you, but he feels you in the room. The way you smell and he puffs of breath, the thud of your heart.

- so he immediately clocks the second your pulse races at his words and how your heart flutters, along with your cunt. Andres eyes snap back to you just in time to see a shy but sensual smile on your lips. “What if I want you to hurt me?” Is what he hears from your lips, and he forces himself to sit still, ignore the erection against his thigh and the urge to fuck you until your womb got stuffed to the brim and he got you knocked up. “You better mean that.”

- “oh,” you strip yourself of your shirt and other clothes swiftly, like a subtle strip tease but far smoother and graceful than anticipated, “I mean it. Show me how much you love me sugar, I can take it.” You walk over to the bed on the other side of the room, curling up against the pillows and grin, spreading your legs and exposing the entirety of yourself, eager to mark off this box on your sexlist checklist. “Fucking better.” Is what Andre responds with, rising slowly and missing the tall ceiling by merely a foot, taking his gangly form towards the bed and closing his eyes, sniffing visibly and having his body falter, your scent encompassing any logic he had left.

- “look at that,” he chitters, teeth making his grin a bit more daunting, “already spread for me. Cute. Now turn around.” Andre orders, lurking before the bed as you shift, resting on your folded forearms and raising your ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, a hand grazing your arched waist while he settles behind you, “couldn’t follow orders earlier, but that’s just because you were worried, hm? Going to be good f’me now. I know it.” Andre settles himself on his knees behind you, arms planted on either side of your torso and he leans atop you, breath fanning your ear as he teases you, makes the eager nerves alight as goosebumps trail across your bare, vulnerable form.

- “gonna’ let me fuck you? Let me bury my cock in your pretty cunt over and over until there’s nothing left in you but me?” He muses, erection tapping at your ass and feeling much heavier than what you’re used to. You hum, trusting him to take care of you and fuck you right. “Mhm, let you stuff me like a fuckin’ brood mare, now please, c’mon and fuck me Andre.” He swats your ass with his hand, watching the fat of it jiggle and your waist bend high, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

- You bite back a few comments the second he brushes his flared, sloped cockhead into the opening of your cunt, the tip alone bringing a stretch of pain. Burying your head in the pillows around your forearms, you mewl and whimper aloud tossing both your head and your ass back. Andre’s one hand is beside your torso to plant himself while the other is on your hip, guiding your hips back towards him so he can slowly enter and sink his cock into you. "Atta' babe" he croons, breath fanning across your back in a way that makes your spine tingle.

- He lets out a whine that huffs hot air across your spine, sinking in his cock as much as your cunt can fit, several inches still untended to between where the two of you meet. His balls brush your clit when he bottoms out, and he stills, Andre's restless lungs beating his chest into your back and you can feel him through and through. "Fuck, tight little cunt, gonna' fucking break it." Andre groans low and heady as he begins to rock back and forth, in a humping motion that sends his balls smacking into your clit with little pats, making you grateful a hand now plays underside and holds your belly while the other holds him up, your body on the precipice of collapse with the angle, the feeling, all of it.

- "fucking stuff me," you blurt, pathetically trying to rock your hips back into his and you cry out each time, bulbous cockhead nudging your cervix with each shift, feeling him in your guts, "breed me full, knock me up." These were words you had used previously during sex with him, the concept not being new, only to the situation at hand. With Andre being fueled by rampant urges and instincts, barely holding on, your words were like an on-switch that sends him immediately pressing you into the bed and snapping his hips roughly, snarling. into the skin of your neck like he's on a mission, and in a way, he is. Meant to mate.

- "ah, oh fuck, Andre." you keep crying out his name between crying out incoherencies, encompassed by the way he absolutely fucked the breath from your lungs, knocking everything out of you and then drawing it back in just as he slots in, and out of your drenched, dripping cunt, slick now sprawling from his dick and balls, your thighs, to the torn and tossed sheets beneath. There's a fleeting, barely conscious thought of now knowing why sex was called the beast with two backs, the words of Othello never even a full thought as you get plowed from behind.

- oh yeah, you were never going to leave him to deal with a full moon alone, not if this is what your good deeds and diligence get you - being bent over like a broodmare and fucked like it's a need to survive, to breathe. You are livin' good.

- "taking me so damn well, gonna' pump you full, fill you over and over until others no space inside that I haven't covered." he rambles, hurried and frenzied and deep in pitch, snapping his hips rapidly as the sound of skin slapping melts into a blur with the heavy pants and breaths, the snarls and moans and groans the two of you let out, animalistic and primal, fucking elite and top tier in your honest, raw-dogged opinion. "Gonna' give you a child, claim this fucking pussy, all of it, s'all mine."

- You groan out, burying your head in your forearms and feeling his weight atop you, the way he keeps bullying his giant dick into you and fucking you apart, working you like dough in the way he works you over. "Like that? Like me marking you up, being Andre's breeding bitch?" he snarls, sounding so potent in your ear where his head hovers, splayed across your back while his hips do the work.

-"Just feel that," he murmurs, hand pressing into the fat of your belly to press against where he thrusts into you, making you squeal into the pillows as he shows off, his demeanor so contrasting than how he usually is, even in a raging fuck, "gonna' fill you to the brim, baby, already stretching you wide. Belly full of me."

- "God, please — fuck," you're babbling, fucked out and quote literally drooling upon your forearms and the pillows holding your head up, as backing into his thrusts and mewling with the brush of his balls against your clit, everything wet and sloppy, "wanna' be bred, wanna' be yours — I wanna' be yours." Andre lets out snarling laughs, darker than abyssal skies, into your shoulder blades which he litters with nips and bites of sharp teeth, little pinpricks adding to the utter euphoria of getting absolutely pounded.

- "gonna cum, arent'ya?" he drawls, leaning to huff through his nose near your ear and you smell him, sex and musk and earthy amber, you wanna drown in it. "Go on, soak this cock so I can fuck you stupid." It takes a few thrusts later, but you do and you absolutely blackout, the world turning into a white canvas that slowly lifts as you feel Andre fucking into you, pace hurried and faltering as he babbles rapidly, stitching together curses and praise like an ornamental garland.

- Cum is absolutely pouring at that point, rivulets stuck in smears across your ass and thighs, drenching his balls and making them smack wetly against the mouth of your cunt. He's come already at least twice by the load of it and is working on a third orgasm that makes your ass ripple with the force behind his thrusts. "All mine, no one gets to see this, have this, my pretty mate." he's talking to just himself at this point, assuring insecurities while nearly fucking you through the mattress, hell it's a miracle the bedframe hasn't broken. Or the wall.

- You whimper and moan weakly, just taking it at this point because all you feel in your bones is the warmth of orgasmic bliss, full lethargy and no intent to move, feeling so sated and tender than you could simply pass away with a beaming, I just had sex grin that would out do anyone else's, besides Andre's. What plucks the strings of reality a bit is a moment his teeth latch onto your shoulder, marking rows of teeth into a bite marking you as his. He fucks you through it, coming with a shout of your name that is more of a gravelly howl than anything, cum literally flooding your cunt and dripping down everywhere, making a mess of everything.

- Andre's near whimpering, fucking into you weakly while his erection softens inside you, laying on top of your form before wrapping his arms around and having you both shift onto your sides, him spooning your considerably smaller form in his considerably sized state, completely enveloping you in his hold, warmth, and love, soothing your fucked-out and pumped-full state onto the precipice of slumber.

- "M'love you." he mutters into your neck, nuzzling against your pulse as his arms coil around your belly, ensuring you stay in his arms and snug around his dick, "love you too." is what you reply, sounding not like your own voice in the exhausted, airy lilt. It's the last thing you remember before being woken up in the morning to an apologetic and scruffy Andre, back to normal with a plate of breakfast in hand.

- "Andre, honey, we are definitely going to be doing that again."

Robotus Alpha-Beta: D E M O N

• songs: Devil’s Advocate - The Neighborhood or Have A Cigar - Pink Floyd

• fanart: by @olexxx right here

- you’re desperate, and tired of calling after things in the light and day that don’t answer. You now call out for and beg for something from the night, standing in the crossroads with a box of offerings in your hands and a plea so heavy on your tongue it weighs you down like an anchor to a boat, dividing the seas currents in cleaverlike strokes. Crying out into the night, screaming for an answer, yelling out that you’ve done the right things brought the right stuff, made the right calls, you’re frustrated and distressed in the middle of this night, clad in clothing that the wind whips around your form, slinky against your chest and thighs. You’re a vision of desperation in this witching hour, and who would he be to deny your broken-hearted, bargaining pleas?

- “mighty pathetic looking, aren’t you, pretty thing.” He strolls out from the tree line, hands in his pockets of the seersucker suit he wears, hiding his eyes in the shadows while he meanders his way over dirt path and dandelions, plants dying in the markers where his footprints lay. “Pray tell, what brings you to my spacious lay of the woods?” He drones, and you’re too consumed in your own ordeals to fully analyze his appearance and demeanor, ready to bargain and barter down to the bones should it go that far.

- “I just wanna’ deal. That’s all.” You start, laying the tin box down on the ground between the two of you where you stand in the clay dirt and ash of the crossroad, pitch black sans the one flickering, sad looking streetlamp. “What will you take for sparing someone’s life?” Is what comes from your lips next, and he’s almost surprised at the dedication you show in selflessness, musing to himself in the ongoing internal dialogue that you should get one of those flimsy gold stars.

- “Depends on a lot my dear,” the demon drawls, hands gesturing in a manner that reminds you of evangelical television preachers or cable game show hosts, “who am I curing and what ails your beloved patient?” He picks the dirt from his fingernails and you wish you pry out the nails from that tin box you got from a coffin, and force them one by one into his skull for his nonchalance, his disinterest in a deal that meant more than the world to you.

- “my friend, she’s sick. Cancer. I want her cured and for her to live a healthy life and die naturally of old age. What will you accept in exchange?” You’re direct, straight and to the point, shoulders squared and eyes flint and steel, fire flickering in the shards of your irises. Refusing to let him abuse a loophole, you’ve stressed every requirement and plan — ramming the nails in straight. “Straight to the point, I like that.” He drawls, crooked grin smarmy and slimy in the snake oil style, making you envision car dealerships and the price is right but shrouded in brimstone and fire. “The question isn’t what I’ll ask of you, but what you’re willing to offer, dear.”

- he claps his hands together, a MontBlanc pen appearing in his hand and a weathered paper, looking older than your entire bloodline in the way it looks like if the wind blew a fraction harsher, it’d disintegrate. “Alright pet, lay your offers on the table and I’ll see what I’ll accept — but remember,” the demon before you with sky blue eyes pauses, looking like a walking business advert with his suit and tie, shiny cufflinks and a glittering Patek Philippe watch, “no promises.”

- you bite back the myriad of things you’d like to say to this bastard in human flesh-trimmings, but you need your friend more than anything. She’s your world. You’d give your own up for her, and you plan to do exactly that. “My entire self —“ he raises his brows, lips splitting into an amused grin and attempts to interrupt, but you wave a hand and fix him a look, the don’t fuck with me while I’m talking stare, “for part of the week, for the rest of my natural, long and healthy life. You’ll get Tuesday through Thursday, and I will be free to do what I wish the remainder of the week, every week. Sans holidays which I get to myself.”

- he’s still smiling as if it’s within the job application but looks about as pained as if he’s suddenly contracted a bout of irritable bowel syndrome. “And you’re completely mine the entirety of those three days, the full 72 hours?” You nod, face as polished as stone, equally as cold and ungiving. Hes never encountered a wayward soul like yours. Intrigue mars his mind more that he’d care to admit, but it makes the results of bartering so much better. “We have a deal then.”

- he scrawls in loopy old fashioned cursive, slanted and sloped in a manner that reminds you of history class, and fills in the blanks of his document signing your life away to him. He flattens the paper, then signs it himself and hands it to you to sign as well. You spot the larger A and B initials, shortened to AB, but can’t make out the last name, only the large R and the mussed squiggles behind it. Doctorish scrawl, hasty and impatient.

- you sign your signature and life away, not regretting it the instant you get a series of texts from your friend, her energy and liveliness returning in an instant. You pocket your phone then get dragged forward by the elbows, calloused fingertips and softened palms cup your cheeks before drawing you into a fleeting kiss. He pulls away and before you can act, he vanishes in a cloud of ash and dust, the contract within your grip and an emptied tin box at your feet. A kiss to seal the deal.

- you don’t see him until the next week, spending your time with your loved ones and with your best friend, cherishing and relishing in how she’s safe and healthy again and she would always be. The chime of reality rings twelve times, the man appearing in a click of loafers against the tile floors outside your apartment and wraps of his knuckles against the front door, coming to collect you. You’re alone and have been, making sure to be in the comfort of solitude once your first day as a demon’s bitch begins. AB opens the door and strolls in, hands in the pockets of some pinstripe slacks and a chain dangling from near his hand to a slim pocket on his suit vest, thin white stripes against navy fabric making his already tall form elongate.

- the demon struts in with the casual air of devil-may-care, eyes like a cats in how they’re languid but attentive, drawing everything in and sitting until something interesting pulls his direct attention forth. “Quite a home you’ve got here, just you?” AB muses, sauntering with the air of a spoiled house cat. “Yes, just me, now can we get on with whatever you have entailed for my next 72 hours, the suspense Y’know, got me absolutely hooked.” You respond, end of your sentence dripping in sarcasm like a freshly immersed pen nib into an inkwell and equally as dark.

- “impatient too, aren’t you just a bag of tricks,” he muses, lulling and faux cadence in a demon's silver tongue taste, “all in due time. Best to wait and see you squirm.” AB stands before a bookcase, fingertips tapping along spines of books then dusting over a picture frame with your friend, weary Polaroids paling in comparison to this snapshot of her and you several years ago, faces lit in the warmth of lanterns in summer sunset. He holds it longer than he’d deem appropriate, and he doesn’t seem to care or know why.

- “are you always this articulate or does it come with the Armani suit?” You snap, knee bouncing as you sit on the couch, lips chapped from how frequently you’ve gnawed on them in your nervous state, wanting to lose your sanity but unfortunately finding yourself incredibly lucid and stable. Against all odds. “Naturally, pretty thing, some creatures possess decorum and manners — I see you speak from inexperience.” He teases, setting the frame down and wiping his hands on his slacks, adjusting the cufflinks that glitter with initials laid in obsidian and platinum.

- He continues speaking, giving you no opening once more to speak or further deride the demon before you, meandering about your home as if he was not just showing the place, but was trying to sell it as a realtor and making the process as painfully personal as possible. "Do you have a tendency to get squeamish or easily frightened?" "I doubt it, due to how there's a demon I'm casually conversing with, so I'm going to have to say no."

- He chuckles darkly, and you see a glimmer in those glacier eyes of something far colder, and you mark it down for later. "Clever, but such a costly trait. Mind your tongue." You sit and take it in stride, having been braced for an overgrown petulant toddler playing around in daddy's suits. "Since you're being so patient," he mocks, he rolls his sleeves to the forearms after shucking off his jacket and snapping it away in a move that makes you think of hammerspace, "we'll get started. You are to shadow me as I go about dealing. Mind your tongue, presence, and entire demeanor. You are here to help me, gain insight on a modern human mind and soul, not to aid anyone but me due to how I control something far greater than your own life."

- He doesn't hesitate to gut you in the way you've been hung out to dry, hollowed like a side of beef swinging from a hook in a walk-in freezer, dripping onto a frozen floor in tandem with your bravado slipping. AB glances over your expression and smiles, childish and juvenile in a charming, redeemable fratboy sort of way. "Alrighty, now let's get you started."

- and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you began the first day of deals. It flew by, as they all would, you watching from the sidelines or removed from sight to watch as a deal went down. You could clock the bastards who were overly cocky, thinking they could outsmart someone so much older than them it was like the universe looking upon Earth's moon. Planet to sand grains. Pathetic - no match.

- the souls would fade one by one and you would spend your hours prior to the deal observing them from the outskirts in strangers behaviors, deception now a part of your ensemble in equal to your rings or shirt. "Did you observe me before we struck my deal?" you had asked later on in the duration of your servitude, roughly a year into your partial work weeks under the eye and lens of the demon. He laughed, a chiding yet lilting sound that resembled when storm clouds rumbled when the sun still shone, "Oh absolutely I did, my dear, quite entertaining and almost heartwrenching the way you went about your plans. Absolutely precious."

- AB speaks over his cocktail, Pappy Van Winkle bourbon dark and syrupy in the basin of his Waterford crystal glass, sliding about the thick ice cube like molasses, "I will say you have been the most entertaining of my companions in a long time." The way he says it lingers and you assume it's longer than you could perceive, centuries being seconds to the being beside you. It is a fleeting moment of wistfulness before he clocks his newest wayward soul and stalks forward, running a hand through his hair and barely messing his strands up, the greying streaks in his auburn hair falling upon his forehead like a staged motion, queued up to go for a movie scene.

- You tried not to watch more than you needed to when having to help him with his deals, but this time in the low light of a seedy corner alley bar, he glittered like the cufflinks he always wore. Dark obsidian and platinum, simple yet something so potent about it resembled him. If you hadn't sold your life away to the entity, he'd resemble a side character from American Psycho, far too charming to make it into the main role. It was harder to hate him than how he looked, the manner in which you dealt your days away gave you your friend back and a more stable life, albeit the hellish tasks.

- You didn't quite care for how much you cared for him, why you get enamored with him and all that he encompassed. It was disastrous and bordering a Stockholm syndrome, or at least that's what you told yourself when indulging in ice cream and childhood movies. What worsened your situation was an event that occurred in your off hours, out with friends and enjoying yourself in a night of freedom and levity. It went wrong, as you assumed it could, but had not expected the situation to unfold as it had nor the end result to your night.

- "I still don't understand, you crushing on your boss? Understandable, not doing shit about it, perplexes the fuck outta' me." Rory, a friend from high school mentions and brought a series of laughs from your booth at the club. "It's improper-" You're suddenly cut off. "Since when did you ever give a shit about proper?" another friend chimes in, and you sigh before downing the remnants of the drink before you. You get up, go to the bar to get a drink and avoid the terrible topic along with trying to escape the environment altogether. It's not your scene, too loud and overwhelming. It gets even worse after the initial sips of your drink when the world turns hazy and you don't know where you're going, nor whos leading you away.

- "Move them this way, out of the light - there, I told you no one was going to find us here." one of the two figures surrounding your hazy, barely conscious form voices, the other laughing along as they work at your shirt before a dark laugh comes from the opening of the alley, and a glint of polished silver meets the glare of a streetlamp. Its something out of a noir film but you're relieved when you hear his voice, trying to sit up and failing. His name falls from your lips, faint and sad sounding, and his glacier eyes melt away into a darkness never seen before even in the furthest of depths within the oceans.

- It takes no time for him to dispatch the two who had drugged you, the rage pouring off of him in waves you can almost see, even in your bleary state. It's as if someone coated your brain in a fog and dipped it in some liquid nitrogen. "Oh, pretty thing, what have they done to you." is what he says when he crouches near your form, bloodstained but almost holy, a savior without wings. You try and answer but he shushes you, lifting you into his arms securely with the strength beneath his tall, barrel-chested form. The two of you dissipate from the alley and leave behind blood trails no one will find, bodies gone as well to languish on hooks in rings of hellfire AB will personally see to.

- The next thing you recall after being saved up in his arms is waking in a bed far too luxurious to be your own, and enveloped in silky sheets and even silkier pajamas, deep navy blue wrapped around your form so comfortably you just snuggle back into the pillows before you fully wake to reality with a start, remembering what almost happened and sitting up, flying out of bed and wandering out to figure out where the fuck you were.

- "there you are, dear, feeling okay?" is what greats you, AB sitting at a couch reading from a book that once again looks more ancient than your entire bloodline, genuine concern feeding into his expression and making you blink, sleep still laden in your heavy eyelids begging you to go back to sleep. "You saved me." he shrugs off your comment, rising to meet your form in the doorway and taking you by the shoulders, trying to turn you around back into the bed you left. "Go on to bed, I'll bring you something-" he fixes you a look, "its an order, go rest. Your loved ones know you're safe and sound. Now, bed."

- You fall back asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and the next time you wake there's a change of clothes on a chair near the bed, a plate of food on the nightstand, and a pitcher of water with clean glasses readily available. In no rush, you take your time eating and then getting ready before padding barefoot out into the home you find yourself in, spotting AB finally in a kitchen you'd drool over in an issue of Architectural Digest. "There you are, rested?" you nod, cupping your glass of water in your hands and seating yourself down at a barstool beside the kitchen island, glancing around at the sprawling chef's kitchen, "they've been taken care of." AB trails off, in a casual button-down and slacks, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest, taking a second before he looks over at you with steely, ice eyes.

- "No harm will ever come to you." your brows furrow at that, wondering why he would care so much about a person he literally owns. You voice it out loud and he guffaws, looking at you incredulously as if the answer was always there, and in a way, it had been. "Dear, you're mine. Contract bound and now, by design. No one ever lays a hand on you let alone exists a second afterwards." The glass in your hand is set down and you lean back in your chair, staring at him and wondering if the entirety of the past months of partnership you were not the lone one pining. He validates it when he approaches and falters, warming once you breach the gap and take his hand into your smaller one.

- You finally break, grasping for him and hugging him close as his bulkier form bends to hold you, knees bent in order to acclimate to your seated position. He rubs your back as you shudder and shake, warm broad hands soothing you down and facing you until he kneels and looks up at you. "I promise you, you're safe." and you want to say you believe him, but you still don't feel it, just take his hand off your knee and imbed it into your heart so he can feel how it beats, how the fear creeps into your lungs like an infection. there's no need, for he cups your cheek and tilts your chin to meet his gaze. Then it's over.

- the waiting ends, and he kisses you, tender and delicate and something so utterly unlike him that it takes you aback, almost slack-jawed for a millisecond before you realize it's him kissing you and you relish in it, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer until he's caged you in, safe from harm. He groans, and you part your legs at the sound, letting him fully press against you in the chair and wrap around you. "My pretty thing." AB groans against your lips, and you whimper at the sound of it so broken on his tongue, so different than the calculated and meticulous tone he took.

- "Prove it" is what flies from your lips as you bite his, feeling him grin darkly against your mouth as he lifts you into his, different from the bridal carry form the other night with how he hefts a handful of your ass into his palms while your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you into the other room. "Gladly." is whispered once he deposits you into a lavish dark bed, his own, and strips himself of his shirt and bares a chest scattered in auburn hair matching in grey streaks like his head, making you wonder about what lies lower.

- He doesn't make you wait long, and he strips himself of his boxers and pants, planting himself above you and grinning at how you observe his body and movements, letting you gasp in surprise once he lets a shudder roll through and some red markings reveal themselves, cuffs and bands of red marks paired with inscriptions of languages so old they outdated writing itself. You trace a few as he undresses you, mouth over them lavishly and kiss them tenderly, trying to show and give all the love you can to make up for what he's missed.

- "Never going to let anyone touch you," he murmurs, breathless against your skin as if he's the one rendered weak before you, "only mine, m'all yours. Gonna' keep you safe and sound." AB's wrecked already and he's hardly touched you let alone himself, the evidence leaking and resting heavily upon your now bare thigh. You feel not just safe and content, but powerful and hungry, greedy for what lies within arms reach. You get granted a freedom in his presence finally, and you take every step in stride.

- "All mine," purrs your voice in his ear, tugging on auburn locks and feeling your body thrum like musical cords when he groans low and deep, reverberating from a barrel chest that covers your form, "going to make me feel good? Treat me right, make a mess of me? Show me just how much you actually care and that I'll always be yours? Go ahead, AB, give me your all."

- "All?" he growls darkly against the column of your throat, nearly snarling if it wasn't for the pleased smirk present with teeth with slight points, "oh dearest, ask for more, don't you know I'd give you everything?" he murmurs low stripping you fully bare and letting rough and calloused palms from another lifetime's work wander your body, mapping out your skin like a cartographer. At that moment the words were euphoric enough, but his hips grinding against yours until he slotted against your weeping cunt was the emphasis to your already wavering body, the final blow to your grip on reality. Oh, what a plunge it was.

- AB rocks against you, forehead knelt down against your collarbone in a piousness akin to prayer and nudges his swollen cock against your cunt, hips grinding once, twice, before he slides into you and fills you. It's a stretch that makes you cry out, nails embedded in his skin near his markings as you whimper and cry out his name. Your chest squirms and your hips remain stilled, his broad hands encompassing your hips as he does so. With his head against your shoulder, he gets to see himself disappear into your slick-soaked pussy, and the sight is too moving for his eyes to handle. Thumbs bruise your hipbones while he stills then asks you questions he repeats several times before you process them, already hazy and fucked out and he hadn't even actually fucked you yet.

- "May I move?" your body reacted before you could even form a response, legs shifting so you can take him in deeper and fuck up back onto him, nearly squealing out as you feel him absolutely stuff your cunt, walls clenching and sending the both of you into a hurried frenzy. "There's your answer." you bite, literally and figuratively as your teeth sink into his ear. His hips stutter and you smirk, so proud of yourself before locking your legs and rolling him beneath you, still seated on his cock but now residing on top, beaming down at him with your hands planted on his marked, hair-covered chest.

- You don't even warn him before you slam your hips down, relishing in how he jolts and buckles, eyes shutting then opening back up, so torn between the feel of you and how you look, an angel of his own making seated above him and using him like a throne, getting yourself off and being nothing short of resplendent. AB thrusts his hips up to meet your grinds and ministrations, one hand splayed across your ribcage while the other snakes down to rub at your clit, beaming with pride when he feels you shudder and falter.

- "You're so pretty." comes broken from the demon beneath you, reduced to merely a man with the way you use him, treat him, love him and fuck him all at once, centuries worth of longing packed away emerging forth into glacier eyes now as warm as spring skies, and the look he gives you sends you over the edge as a crushing blow. He catches you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you as the orgasmic, earth-shattering waves take you under. He anchors you, falteringly weak thrusts getting him to where you are in seconds, cumming and stuffing you full with a cracking groan against your heated flesh.

- He holds you, sitting upright with his arms wound around your torso and holding tight, hands splayed across your back and side as your head nestles into the crook of his, nose at his pulse and smelling hints of rosemary and bergamot and ash, and you burrow closer, wanting to sink into him like bed, he's more comforting than down comforters and pillows anyhow. It takes a while before the witness behind your eyes fades, his humming being what plucks you forth from an orgasmic abyss and you smile against his skin, soaking up the silence and him breaking it.

- "About that contract-" you joke, and AB laughs breathlessly before turning to you with a devious smirk, hands wandering and eliciting a squeaking moan from your lips, "I think I'd be open to renogiation." he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth before your lips meet his and he hums, licking into your mouth and staking claim to it just as he had you.

Magic Myc: Z O M B I E

• song: Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

- You'd been there when Myc's dead body got carted in. There were more people making jokes, cruelly grateful for his absence compared to the small group that actually missed him, and mourned him. And you were one of the very few who loved him enough to grieve his loss in such a manner it would even overpower the longing of the moon should it ever lose the sun and stars.

- He wasn't everyone's taste, hell, he was barely your taste. But you still loved him anyway and trying to work, eat, and live without him got harder and harder since he got eradicated from your life as swiftly as one strikes down a cleaver against a cutting board, final, irreversible. Permanent.

- You had thankfully been granted leave, getting enough pitying looks to send you to the comforts of home only to realize that home made it worse. All his things were there, little knickknacks and gag gifts Myc had gathered over the years, polaroids taped to the walls with glimpses of misadventures. One that gutted you the most was a picture of you, Andre, and Myc, the two of you smiling wide while Myc lifted the two of you up for the picture, all flipping off the camera and laughing like hyenas.

- Andre had been a rock of support, the two of you leaning on each other to cope and work through the loss, not knowing how to handle the loss, Andre losing a best friend and you losing a lover. It crushed you, the chasm of grief and depression consuming you whole, entangling your ankles and dragging you down in the depths like being snared in a siren's trap.

- the point where you broke down wholly and entirely, letting out ugly cries with the snot and tear tracks, getting puffy with reddened eyes in the freedom of your home. A formerly shared home is now all yours. The brownstone mocked you, once an inviting and fun space now too bright and whimsical to be fitting for one mourning a lover. A friend. A soulmate.

- in the midst of your breakdown and rattling full-body tremors, you don't hear the back door locks slowly turn one by one, the keys only belonging to one person, long dead. You don't hear something entering your home and locking back up, in the perfectly redundant routine that belonged to an everyday pattern. You don't hear Myc return into your life because you're too busy crying about him leaving it.

- "I leave for five seconds and you've already gone batshit - damn and I thought I had problems" his voice startles you, making you nearly fall off of the couch when you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief. "You're not real." is the first thing you utter, terrified to move in case the illusion your grief-wracked mind conjured would dissipate and vanish, leaving you alone in your loss and the empty house, pathetic and sad enough to best a wet kitten.

- "You'd think that, but here I am, alive and unwell." Myc responds, sarcasm prominent but still an underlying fond tone only belonging to him comes out. It's rougher, dirtier almost in a backroad gravel kind of way like his vocal cords got tossed through a concrete mixer. "Gonna' say hello or what?" he teases, gesturing with a tendril or two and extending them, wanting a hug from his favorite person. You practically leap over the back of the couch in an effort to reach him, launching yourself into his body and nestling your head on the underside of the mushroom cap, feeling fanning gills brush the top of your head in addition to the bulbous partial veil that glows and humms against your head.

- He still smells like earth and musk, pollen and petals. and weed, and you've never been more relieved to smell the absolutely pungent aroma of weed in your life, laughing while you cry into where his neck would be. "You think I would just ditch you? No way, stuck with me for the rest of your little life, shitheel." Myc mutters, bumping your nose tenderly with a blunt nudge of a tendril, making your nose scrunch and a smile appear on your puffy, crying face.

- "wait, how are you even here?" you ask, leaning your head back enough to look at him in the dim light of your home, shadows cast over his form and hiding the majority of it sans little segments and divots of bioluminescence and ornate patterns. "You died Myc, how in the fuck are you even alive?"

- he doesn't immediately answer, and you step back to pace with a hand running down your face, immediately ranting and getting wrapped up in the concept of Cognito Inc. doing another stupid and silly science project without considering ramifications and wondering just how this will blow up once more when it concerns the love of your life, Myc.

- when he's remained silent, not saying a word in the midst of your rant about Reagan and how she's got to stop playing god, you realize he hasn't said a word and turn to find him standing very still and looking down to his tentacles as if in deep thought. Worrying, consuming, deep thought.

- "I-," he starts, moving to turn in your direction, almost looking past you, or through you, making your anger fade as concern takes over, "I don't know."

- You haven't been this worried in a long, long time. "Honey, what do you mean you don't know?" Your concern multiplies, swarming nervous moths within the cage of a chest you have, fluttering in your ribcage and making your bones itch. "Myc, do you remember getting here?".

- the uncharacteristic silence speaks enough volumes to have filled a home library, making you send a few hurried texts to the gang group chat and ignoring the silly contact names in lieu of finding a solution to this as fast as possible and trying to keep Myc stable. You turn and flick a lamp on, unable to find reason in the darkness, and barely stop the scream that almost fled your throat.

- "I just wanted to see you, I don't know how I got here-" he pauses, unaware of the terror in your eyes and the tears welling along the seams of your lower lids, threatening to overflow with the sight of him, "I just wanted you."

- You wish you were crying for other reasons beyond the sight of him, maybe even some happy tears with how he came to you because he loves you, dragged his undead self all the way to your backdoor to you.

- You cry instead at the state of him, the chunks of flesh and tissue missing, the greenish ghastly hue to his surface, tears and gouges in places where his body's mass would fill. He is dead. undead technically, and in your shared home's living room sounding close to tears himself with how confused he sounds and you're just about to break down at how butchered he looks. He is yours, and he was supposed to be fine always. Why did this happen, and why to your Myc.

- He says your name, and it is so broken it doesn't suit him. Myc's a jovial, mocking asshole that makes you feel loved, even with pet names accompanied by curse words and expletives. You respond to a few more texts and enlist the help of Reagan and ask Andre and him to come immediately. You barely have the energy to continue standing, so you absolutely don't have the strength to deal with this alone.

- You gather him close, sitting the two of you down on the couch and just try and breathe, sit there with each other and pretend things will all be okay and wait in the meantime for Reagan and Andre to appear in order to get some ideas going on what to do or how to go about this entire situation, the others on standby and there for support should you need it. You've never been more thankful for the friends you have.

- "M'not going to leave you." Myc says, determination steady within his now weathered voice, as if it was skinned and tanned like an animal hide in the sun, "I don't wanna' go." Your hands grip him tighter as your fingertips trace over patterns and textures on his surface, humming a note against the light within his partial veil beneath the cap.

- "Nothing could take me from you, and I won't let anything take you from me either." is what you choose to comfort him with, knowing that humor was a strong suit and that comedy wasn't something to include just yet, reality to raw to disinfect with the sting of punchlines.

- Andre and Reagan soon arrive, disbelief covering their features the instant they enter the door and a litany of questions follow with Andre's tears as he and Myc hug, bubbly watery giggles erupting forth from both him and you at the relief. Reagan pokes and prods, then takes notes from what you could tell, and remains as confused as you are.

- after a while and many frustrating moments, the two leave back to their respective lives. Andre promises to come the next day and Reagan plans to run tests bright and early tomorrow. Nevertheless, the night is yours with him and the two of you alone. You try and make the best of it by familiarizing yourself with the way it felt to be enveloped with Myc, to feel those tendrils around your frame holding you close.

- and as with all things with Myc, it turned sexual suddenly and rapidly, making you appreciate his ease in removing you from a current situation with his attention, touch, and care. A gift tethered in mycelial networks and fungi.

- the two of you don't even make it to the bedroom, Myc being so eager to have you in any which way, he fucks you on the floor against the plush living room carpet, letting you know how thankful he is for your precious ass in his life (both literally and figuratively) as he fucks you to delirium.

- next thing you know, you have his voice in your ear while two tendrils splay your bare thighs open, tentacles notched in the crook of your knee and thigh as he pumps the tips of three appendages in and out of you, commenting and praising you for how slick you are and how welcoming your cunt is to him, like a homecoming once your greedy pussy sucks him in like even your spongy inner walls missed him.

- "god you're so fucking wet, all for me right? getting all gushy and messy for me only." his words hit just the right buttons, perched and murmured right beside your ear as he thrums, twisting the tips of his appendages within you and barely showing signs of him being affected. The two little tendrils that have collected droplets of slick tease and prod at your ass, occasionally breaching the tight ring of muscle and allowing Myc the pleasure of hearing that broken, higher pitched cry you moaned out with his name on your tongue, grinding into his ministrations and begging for more.

- "mhmm, all for you Mikey," you moan softly, brokenly, in a way so soft it competes against battered butterfly wings, "all yours, always yours, even m'pussy." He laughs, fucking you harder at that like a reward, groaning happily and letting the waves of pleasure spread rather than him holding back and halting his own enjoyment. Now he can fuck you.

- “damn fucking straight.” He curses, fucking you with earnest while he sits behind you, feeling flush and warm while he feels you tense and clench around him. Then follow suit once he breaches your ass, fucking into you shallowly and slowly there, easing himself in and loving the way your jaw falls slack and your hips seem to have a mind of their own. You prop your feet at an angle and use it to better fuck yourself on the makeshift cock and tendrils of Myc’s appendages, loving how you felt him in both holes and stuffed full, practically gushing around him and soaking the couch cushion beneath the two of you.

- good thing they’re washable.

-“all mine, always gonna’ be mine.” He mutters, movements stuttering as he nears orgasm but tries to hold out, “my baby gonna’ let me stuff them full? Until it leaks, hm?” You nod, voicing a yes against the skin of his closest to you and cry out once his tendrils brush at your cervix as you grind down and thrust back and forth against him.

- “please Myc, wanna’ cum, want your cum, want you to make me feel good.” You drawl in a plead, hands smoothing over him beneath you and sliding up and down his cock, reaching a hand to play with your clit until he smacks it away and replaces it with an appendage and shakily strokes and he gets closer to cumming. He shakes beneath you, Myc shuddering and stuttering once he voices his nearing euphoria.

- he cums, flooding your cunt and having it spill forth, pollock-like flecks of cum splattering your inner thighs and allowing you to slide better and take him in, cumming shortly after with a scream of his name and an orgasm that lasted nearly a solid minute, senses gone and world as white as fresh snowfall.

- there’s silence for a moment, your back resting against his front, tendrils not still inside you caressing and tending to your sweaty, tired body. “Hey, hon?” He draws you out of your reverie to turn to look at him, “pretty good for a dead man.”

- “fuck off, dear god.”

- Myc cackles and leans back into the couch cushions and pillows, and the joy that thrums in your heart soothes the ache of his death, loving him in any state, even when he’s being a little shit.

—Happy Halloween—

Tags: @cognitosclowns @radioactivebowtie @mollicutes @carnalcringe @bluebaronness @flyingspicerack

#inside job #my inside job #personal inside job #halloween #halloween smut #magic myc #myc x reader #magic myc x reader #Reagan ridley #Reagan ridley x reader #Reagan x reader #brett hand #brett x reader #brett hand x reader #andre x reader #andre Lee #andre lee x reader #robotus #alpha beta robotus #Robotus x reader #alpha beta Robotus x reader #my thots #inside job headcanon #inside job imagine

[mrsjellymunson]

Happy Halloween, Love ❤️

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Summary: Joe raids the costume department at work and conspires to make this Halloween your most memorable yet.

WC: ~4.4k

CW: 🔞MDNI!🔞, NSFW, RPF, PWP, smut, porn with a little bit of plot, established relationship, role play, dressing up, slightly dom!JQ, choking (referenced), oral (everyone’s a winner), fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (always wrap it irl), tiny bit of mutual masturbation, squirting, maybe a touch of overstimulation, Eddie and demons are referenced, pet names (numerous, including references to reader as a pet, minion and servant), no y/n or descriptions of reader’s appearance, demon fucking (sort of). Please lemme know if I’ve missed anything, and don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with real-person fics or any of this content.

A/N: Inspired by the anonymous comment, “It’s as close as we can get to having Joseph Quinn dress up in the Eddie wig and have demon horns”, a scenario which got stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave. This might well be the only RPF I’ll write (they still weird me out a little). I hope this doesn’t put anyone off checking out my Eddie and Steddie stuff 😬 I wrote this fairly quick and it’s not beta-d. It’s also my first time sharing smut, so (constructive) feedback is most welcome!

You knock on the bedroom door gently, having slipped into your new outfit in the bathroom. Halloween season was always fun with your boyfriend Joe, both of you loving to dress up and create spooky scenarios that would inevitably lead to sexy shenanigans. You’d thought you were the only one dressing up tonight, but you were wrong.

Unbeknownst to you, Joe had raided the prop store at the studio he was currently working at, claiming he needed something for a Halloween party, and he had plans...

“Come in, darling.”

You open the bedroom door, sleeping in slowly, wanting to tease Joe with a slow reveal of the short, ivory satin robe you had on, something innocent-looking belying what was underneath.

A deep, velvet-smooth voice greets you, slowly murmuring, “Happy Halloween, my love.”

It’s Joe. Your Joe. Your kind, generous, loving and silly Joe, but there’s something else about him tonight, something you can’t quite place just yet.

He’s surprised you - the bedroom is dark, lit only by a pair of spice-scented red candles and a small, warm lamp. It’s intimate, but also somewhat lair-like, and the ambiance goes really well with the red and black skull-patterned bed linens you’d bought especially for this time of year. You love it.

Your eyes rake over your man, drinking him in. Clothes-wise he’s wearing nothing but a pair of snug black jeans and a studded belt.

Fuck, he looks so hot.

He’s looking down at the floor, hands clasped loosely behind his back, putting his delectable torso on display for you.

In addition, he’s wearing The Wig. That wig.

You’ve role played with this before; he knows how much you love Eddie’s luscious, chestnut locks, and how when he puts on the voice it all combines to rile you up. One time you even got some fake blackwork tattoos and put them on his arms and chest. That was a very fun evening.

But this time there’s more…

Amongst the curls he’s also wearing a pair of long, spiralling, ridged, red and black horns. They’re beautifully detailed. They nestle amongst the soft kinks, and the curls hide the ends of the horns and however they’re attached, making the effect all the more realistic.

God, he looks amazing.

You’re not can’t determine why he’s been looking at the floor since you came in. Is he being bashful? You’re confused, that doesn’t seem to fit the narrative…

Your question is answered when he slowly looks up at you, with a menacing, Kubrick-like stare.

He’s wearing contacts. Not just any contacts, but full-sclera, black contacts, completely obscuring his natural eyes.

You swallow, hard. Your fingers toy with the sides of the slinky robe you’re wearing, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, trying to provide just a little friction to the area between them. Joe notices.

“Fuck Joe, I mean Eddie, you look-“

He cuts you off.

“There is no Joe here. No Eddie either. Only… your Master.”

You gasp at his voice, how it’s even deeper than usual and slightly menacing. You’ve always been impressed by the way he can control his voice, the timbre, volume, pitch, cadence. You’re momentarily distracted by how you’re not surprised he’s always been in acting work.

“Tell me you’re mine, my loyal minion.”

You’re broken abruptly from your reverie by Joe’s commanding tone, and you willingly play along, knees weakening and a pool of wetness forming surprisingly quickly in your underwear.

“Yes, my Master, all yours-”

You gasp as his strong hand reaches forward towards your throat, wrapping loosely around it. Not squeezing (not tonight, anyway), just demonstrating who’s in charge of this scenario.

Joe your Master smiles in that familiar way you know and love, but he keeps the sinister stare, giving everything a much darker edge.

“Well done, my precious. Now, would you like to have some fun with your Master?”

You bring one hand up from your side and gently drag the the tips of your fingernails along the inside of his forearm, a place you know is sensitive.

He breathes in quickly through his nose, trying to stifle a gasp, though you hear it. His grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly, and he tilts his chin up, narrowing his eyes and looking down his nose at you.

You surprise yourself as you reply, “Yes Master, I’m yours to command.”

Ever the consummate professional, none of Joe’s excited internal monologue shows, and he simply looks at you and murmurs, stretching out the syllables,

“Good girl...”

That’s it, you’re gone. He could do almost literally anything to you right now and you most likely wouldn’t stop him. You let out a small whimper.

Even with the dim light and the darkness of his denim, you can see the bulge in your Master’s jeans.

Releasing your throat, he moves his hand to the back of your neck, gripping firmly but not harshly, bending towards you and pulling your face to his. He crashes his lips against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth in a passionate, messy kiss, which you eagerly return.

Breaking the kiss, he grins at you again, before removing his hand from your neck and flicking the edge of your robe near your collarbone.

“Take this off.”

You obey, slowly undoing the robe and slipping it off your shoulders. As the fabric slips to the floor you’re left in nothing but the new set that you bought especially for tonight.

Joe’s eyes caress your form, taking in the sheer, red, rose-patterned lace decorated with tiny bows.

But what’s really catching his eye is the fact that your bra is peek-a-boo style, and the ribbon ties are already undone, your nipples on display.

He hisses an inhale, and runs a thumb pad gently over one of your hardening nipples.

“This all for me?”

“Yes, Master, only for you.”

He takes a step towards you and glances to your panties.

“Are these…?”

“Crotchless? Yes, Master.”

He lets out an involuntary growl and brings his other hand to your core, pushing one finger between your thighs and swiping its tip through your already-damp folds.

Feeling your wetness he can’t help but drop his head back and moan.

It gives you a perfect view of his gorgeous neck, and you want to lick it, like you have so many times before.

Seeing Joe dressed up like this and regarding you with such obvious hunger leaves your whole body tingling, and the anticipation of him touching you more makes you feel like tinder about to combust.

You need him to have fewer clothes on too.

Biting your lip, you slowly bring a hand up between you and trace your fingertips over his solid torso, tracing shapes on his skin, touching the fine, soft hair and moving down towards his happy trail, finishing at his belt line. As your fingers reach his belt buckle, you ask,

“Please, Master, may I..?”

Your Master drops his hands to his sides and, with a lascivious grin, tongue peeping out at one corner running over his teeth, he gives you a tiny nod.

You undo his belt and jeans, running your hands inside the fabric and around his abdomen until you get to his hips. He’s not wearing anything underneath, just how he knows you like it.

You push the fabric downwards, dropping to your knees as you go, just how you know he likes it.

His cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen, fully hard already, and you drool at the sight.

Stepping out of his clothing, he positions himself in front of you, abs tensed and legs slightly apart, looking down at you with those completely black eyes, a curtain of dark curls framing his face.

“What are you gonna do for me, my servant?”

“Whatever you want me to, Master.”

You stick out your tongue as far as you can and languorously lick a broad stripe from his balls up the base and shaft of his cock, past his frenulum and all the way to the tip, where you pause at his slit, swirling your tongue and collecting a bead of precum that’s collected there.

Glancing up again, you notice he’s pursed his lips and his breathing has become uneven, all signs you’ve learnt are indicative of him enjoying what you’re doing.

Lifting both hands you gently grasp his base with one, pulling his tip slightly towards you, and caress his balls with the other, as you open your mouth and slide slowly down his length. Pausing after a couple of inches you return the other way, repeating and going further each time until your lips are touching the fingers you have wrapped around him.

He’s fully panting now, lips parted and brows gently furrowed.

“Fuck, precious, you’re gonna fucking kill me one day.”

Taking this as an indication to continue, you hollow your cheeks and suck, earning you a deep moan from his chest.

You move up and down at a slightly faster pace, sucking and licking, enjoying having your face stuffed full of him, until he’s suddenly grasping your chin and pulling you up towards him. His cock leaves your mouth with a soft pop, and you’re soon standing in front of him, eyes locked. Gruffly, he mutters,

“That’s too good, sweetheart, and I’ve got plans for you. Get on the bed.”

You obey, sitting your bottom on the edge of the bed and shuffling backwards until you’re in the centre, leaning back on your elbows.

He climbs on behind you, and using his hands and his knees he roughly pushes your knees and thighs apart, slotting himself between them.

He bends low towards your thighs, inhaling deeply and pausing for a moment, humming and enjoying the scent of your arousal.

At any other time you might be embarrassed, but his behaviour fits so well with the whole demon vibe and you find yourself heating up even more at the action.

He exhales a long, hot breath, which fans over your core, tantalising you further.

Dropping his upper body between your legs, he lets out a series of low growls as he sucks wet, biting kisses up your inner thighs, pausing occasionally to suck hard on the soft flesh. You moan at the sensation, wondering if he’ll leave bruises, excited by the idea that he might.

You use the opportunity to touch the horns for the first time, feeling the details and ridges, enjoying the contrast with the soft, flowing curls.

He eventually reaches your centre, and marvels at the lingerie framing your delicate, glistening folds.

With a gruff, animalistic hum he licks a stripe from your shining hole all the way up to your begging clit. You cry out, the most sensitive part of you finally receiving the attention it’s been craving.

Wasting no more time, he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go and pushes it inside you, moving and licking and devouring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

You watch him with hooded eyes, trying to sear the image of this demon-god between your legs into your mind, before your arms give out and you flop backwards onto the bed, just about managing to vocalise,

“More, Master, want more of you.”

He takes the hint, bringing one hand up and pushing two fingers easily inside you, and moving his mouth to lick and suckle at your clit. You moan loudly, pushing your hips down the bed and grinding into his hand and face. He moans at this, and the vibrations start to drive you towards your peak.

He chooses this moment to curl his fingers towards your front wall, hitting that spot inside you perfectly, and you begin to see stars. He keeps up his ministrations, your moans eventually turning to wails as he gradually increases the pressure on your clit, and you can hold off no longer. Your vision turns black, your limbs lock, and for a moment you stop breathing, a bubble of euphoria bursting within you as you come undone with a scream.

He reduces the pressure on your clit but doesn’t stop, forcing you to ride out aftershock after aftershock on his face. Eventually he removes his fingers from your swollen cunt, replacing them momentarily with his tongue, before pulling off entirely. Looking down at you he lets out a feral growl. Licking his lips, he wipes his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean, before muttering,

“Fuck, so fucking beautiful…”

As soon as he thinks you can manage, he’s pulling at one hip, assisting more than forcing, as he says, “Turn over, baby, stick that beautiful ass in the air for me.”

You do your best to manoeuvre onto your front, keeping your face and chest on the mattress and putting your knees on the bed, lifting your butt. He kneels behind you, parting your knees a little further, running his hands over the globes of your ass, fully exposed and framed prettily by your red thong.

He lets out another, “SO fucking beautiful”, before slapping one palm hard cross one cheek, making you whimper, immediately moving in to kiss the stinging flesh, laving it with his lips and tongue.

He notches his tip at your hole, and, remaining in character, murmurs, “I’ve gotta fucking have you, my beautiful little -uh- pet!”

On the last word he sheathes himself fully inside you, no consideration given for the usually slow and gradual way he’d enter you, animal passion taking over and both of you more than ready.

You groan loudly as he bottoms out, adoring the feeling of him filling you up and how he rearranges your insides every time he does.

He moans as he remains seated within you for a few moments, groaning gutturally and gripping your hips harshly.

You don’t have much of a respite, as after only a moment of acclimation he’s setting a brutal pace, pumping in and out of you with feral force and abandon, wet and breathy sounds filling the room, his cock jolting your cervix with every thrust.

He starts to mutter almost unintelligible phrases in his demonic voice, but you make out,

“So fucking perfect, so fucking good for me, taking me like the cockvessel you are, my good little minion, my pet, my beautiful, beautiful pet.”

It’s all so exquisitely overwhelming, and you start wailing into your pillow.

He chooses this moment to slip one hand around to your front, immediately finding your sensitive, sopping wet bud and pressing small, form circles into it.

This brings you almost immediately to another precipice, and you cry out, “Ohgodohgodohgod!”

You can feel yourself clench down on his length, and he growls out,

“Jeezus fucking christ, squeezing me so tight, fuck!”

Euphoria washes over you again, a tingling heat beginning in your pelvis and spreading through your entire body. You go limp, but your Master holds you to him with one strong forearm, fingers continuing to circle your clit until you move and twitch, body trying to deal with the dissonance of wanting to get away from the overstimulation but enjoying the aftershocks.

As he continues to help you ride out your second orgasm he’s desperately trying to stave off his own, and eventually pulls out abruptly, your sweat mingling as he rests his forehead on your ass, breathing deeply.

You whine at the sudden emptiness and loss of contact, but are grateful for the opportunity to slump onto your side, enjoying the potential for a short rest.

He comes to lie behind you (if you’re honest, one of your favourite positions in which to get railed), but you realise something.

“No Master, not from this angle. There’s no point in you looking like that if I don’t get to enjoy it.”

Growling again (and seeing your logic) he deftly flips you over onto your back, slotting himself between your plush thighs, tip nudging your entrance as he stares into your face.

He moves both of your arms above your head, running his hands up the soft skin of the undersides and holding them there, hands clasping your wrists and pushing them into the mattress.

He seems to consider something for a moment.

“Hmm, I haven’t given these lovely tits nearly enough attention, my love. Especially considering you decorated them so prettily for me.”

That lascivious smirk is back, and with his free hand he opens the slit in the lace on one side and hums as he licks the flat of his wet tongue over one nipple. As he moves away he lets out a sigh through his nose, cooling the flesh delightfully and causing your already hard nipple to peak even more.

He massages each breast with his free hand, but decides that’s not enough, so commands you to, “Keep those there for me, my pet”, letting go of your wrists and starting to use both of his hands on your soft mounds. He’s enjoying pushing his fingers under the holes in the lace, pushing it to the side to expose your soft flesh, squeezing and squashing, pinching your nipples and licking and sucking on your sensitive nubs. You arch your back and moan with delight at the sensations.

Eventually satisfied that he’s given your tits enough attention, he licks a wet stripe all the way from your sternum, up the side of your neck all the way to your jaw, making you shiver in delight and anticipation.

He hovers over you, tips of his curls tickling your forehead. He plunges his tongue inside your mouth again in another passionate kiss, and you can taste the musk and salt from your own skin combined with the unique taste of him.

He returns his focus to getting himself seated inside of you again. He leans forward, holding your wrists with one hand, with the other lining his member up with your hole as he moves his hips forwards.

He slowly slides into you, filling you up yet again. He fucks you slow but ever so deep, the languid pace a welcome change that allows you to feel every vein and ridge of him against your sensitive walls. You’re both trembling, all of your nerves alive with sensitivity.

“Like me fucking you like this, my pet? Want your Master to -mmm- make you cum again?”

Though you know without doubt that would be an absolutely delectable option, you decide you want to do something for him now.

“I want to be good for you, Master. I want to sit on you, wanna ride you so bad.”

His eyes widen and that signature grin spreads across his face.

“Well, what my pet wants, my pet gets, doesn’t she?”

He slowly pulls out of you and releases your wrists, and in an attempt to conceal his excitement, languidly moves up the bed to lounge on a pile of collected red and black, silk and fur pillows. Abs tensed, knees spread wide and slightly bent, cock in hand and giving every appearance of being cocky and arrogant, he’s the perfect vision of a commanding demon. He’s sitting like he’s on a throne, like he deserves this. It drives you wild.

He lazily tugs at himself as he watches you crawl up the bed towards him, though he furrows his brow slightly as you pause halfway to sit on your heels, knees wide apart, displaying yourself for him.

“What’re you doing, my pet?”

You start touching yourself, parting your folds and sinking a finger easily into your dripping cunt, your free hand coming to massage one nipple.

His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly, and you see his grip on his dick get tighter. You know he loves to watch.

You mumble, as innocently as you can,

“I couldn’t wait, Master.”

He watches for a few moments, entranced, but then remembers what’s on offer and points to his lap, raising his voice a little, aggressively muttering,

“Get up here, minion. Obey your Master!”

His domineering tone sends tingles up your spine and to your core, and you instantly comply, clambering the rest of the way up the bed and straddling his hips.

He holds his cock steady underneath you, running it over your slit, the wet noises exciting you even more.

You place your hands onto his shoulders, stabilising yourself. You take another moment to admire his outfit and presence, holding his gaze before starting to sink down onto him.

As you seat yourself into him fully, that delicious stretch and feeling of fullness returns. You take a moment to enjoy it, before starting to move, lifting up, slowly at first and not too far, before lowering yourself back down. He’s at a fantastic angle, and feeling him so far inside you is intense. You whine out,

“Fuck, Master, you’re so deep…”

He bends his legs behind you and plants both feet on the bed, encouraging you to prop yourself against them. He knows you love to lean back, giving him not only a delicious new angle but also an exquisite view of your tits jiggling as you move, and it also gives him purchase to occasionally buck his hips and slam into you from below.

He’s full-on panting again, and, huffing, he breathes out,

“That’s my good little pet, fucking me so well. You gonna make us both cum, my sweet little thing?”

Wanting to do a good job, you use your thighs to bounce up and down on him, his cock hitting that spot inside you and rocketing you towards yet another high. He’s grabbing at your tits, your ass, your hips, anywhere he can reach, grumbling and growling and clearly desperate to feel every inch of you.

His pelvis is hitting your clit in just the right way, but you need more, and you grab one of his hands and bring it to your front. He immediately begins rubbing his thumb against your clit, and you start to whimper, already close. Before you lose the power of speech he asks,

“Do you trust your Master, baby? Gonna let me try something?”

You trust him implicitly and, although you have no idea what he has in mind, you nod. He moves one hand to your sacrum, stabilising you. The other thumb continues circling your clit, but he pushes the flat of that hand against your belly, like he sometimes does when he wants to feel himself inside of you, except this time there’s more pressure.

You’re rolling your hips against him now, all the different sensations combining to bring you closer to your release. You can hear him panting too, feel him tensing, and you know he’s not far off either. But there seems to be a different kind of pressure building in your abdomen.

You try to say something, but full sentences won’t come out. All you can manage is parts of words, like, “Wait-, no-, someth-, it’s diff-, oh fu-“

Unable to control anything anymore, your release washes over you in a searing wave, but there’s something else too - you feel a hot, wet gush coming from you and soaking his hand, wrist and abdomen.

Unable to process what’s just happened, you simply look at him, open-mouthed but still euphoric.

That’s it for him, he can’t hold off anymore and his release hits him, hard. He pulls your hips down onto him at the same time he slams up into you, face slack and breathing ragged, and you feel his hot, sweet release paint your insides, simultaneously letting out a long, low, broken groan.

Unable to process anything else, his eyes close and his head drops back against the headboard. You get another glimpse of that delicious neck, and run your hands over it and his collarbones as he comes down. He always looks so beautiful like this.

You both need a moment to let your heart rate and breathing come back to some semblance of normal. Evaporating sweat leaves you both with delicate goosebumps on some of your exposed skin, but the change in temperature is welcome.

You’re the first to speak as you look down at his wet belly and ask,

“Uh, Joe. What the fuck was that?”

His face turns slightly pink as, voice back to normal, he bashfully admits,

“I, um, just wanted to see if I could make you squirt, that’s all.”

He looks a little sheepish as he continues, slightly concerned,

“Was it ok? I mean, did you hate it?”

“God no, it felt… amazing! Just, y’know, maybe warn me next time?”

“Of course my sweet. Anything for my baby.”

He plants some wet kisses across your cheeks.

As if wanting to illustrate how much he enjoyed it, he brings his wet hand up to his mouth, sucks his fingers, and slowly shakes his head in delight as he adds,

“Mmm-mm, it was really fucking hot though!”

You slap his chest playfully, rolling off him to settle in the crook of his arm, your head against his chest, running a hand up and down it.

Ever the considerate lover, after a few moments he inquires,

“How was it overall, baby? Did you enjoy it?”

Full of endorphins and the love of your man, you gush,

“Fuck yes, Joe, it was incredible.” As you toy with some of the ends of the wig, you add, “Thank you so much for doing this for me. For us.”

He replies, “Oh love, it was, and I mean this quite literally, my absolute pleasure. I’m such a fucking lucky bastard.”

You both giggle a little at this. Joe delicately removes the horns and wig, laying them reverently on your bedside table so as not to tangle or damage them, another testament to his devotion to his craft, and you snuggle into each other, continuing to murmur sweet nothings and enjoying the afterglow.

After a few minutes Joe admits, “Sorry, I’ve got to take these bloody things out babe, they’re really sodding uncomfortable.”

You both laugh again, as he rises from your shared bed and makes his way to the bathroom to remove the contacts, returning with a warm washcloth, which you take gratefully. As you clean up he picks up the horns, examining them and twisting his fingers around what you now see is a sturdy headband.

He takes the washcloth from you, retuning it to the bathroom. As he comes to sit by you on the bed once more, you spy a small smirk on his lips. You know that look, devious yet playful. He’s got some kind of plan.

“What is it, my treasure?”, you goad, using your fingertips to gently tickle his happy trail and tease at his exposed belly.

He replies,

“I was just thinking, next time, maybe you could wear the horns…?”

Thanks so much for reading!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, please let me know what you think!

#probs my only RPF #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn smut #RPF #Joseph Quinn fic #stranger things #Joseph Quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #role play smut #slight dom!joseph quinn #dressing up smut #halloween smut #halloween fic #demon fucking #demonfucking #mrsjellymunson gets the horn

[h0unds-of-h3ll]

Season of the witch

Elvis Presley. One of the biggest and most handsome musicians comes through your sleepy little town you couldn’t help yourself from giving him your potent honey pie. Little does he know it’s laced with your love sex pollen.

50s Elvis Presley x Witch! Reader.

Word count: 9k.

Warnings: Elvis becomes obsessed. To the point where he’s a munch. Sex pollen. Witchcraft, little talk of religion. Manipulation. Dubious consent. Talk of being eaten out, teeth. Heavy emphasis on breeding. Little coercion. Making out. Stalking. Slight noncon. You literally put him under a spell so he’ll be your pet. Titty sucking. Period sex. He has mommy issues and calls you mama a lot. Talk of drugs.

A/n: The only reason why I wrote this is because it’s inspired by one of my favorite movies The Love Witch, the scene where she poisons Wayne and he becomes so madly in love with her. Wanted to write this for Halloween too. So have a very devilish night imagining yourself as a witch in the 50s and having a 22yr old Elvis being bedeviled by you.

  

It was cold, very cold for a Halloween night in the Deep South. It had just rained and poured the night prior. The streets flooded with water, and puddles grew. The gold and brown dead leaves fell into the wakeless puddles. The sky overhead was dark with storm clouds; it was barely 5 o'clock, and it looked like midnight. It was so depressing, just as you liked it in your little town. 

  You made a honey pie for him. For Elvis Presley. You’re not sure how the governor arranged for him to perform at the little banquet. Your town needed the money and the praise. The once-booming oil town has now dwindled into a pass-through town to get to the interstate. Nothing was there; a couple of restaurants and a grocery store were it. A few antique mom-and-pop stores—nothing to stop at. The town's population barely broke two hundred this year. Full of old Bible-thumping seniors. The governor presumed if he got Elvis to perform then newcomers would realize how interesting the town is and would get people to move. Balance the old with the young. 

   Children were a phenomenon; the only time you saw kids was when it was their grandparent's turn to babysit. The youngest people who lived there were you and your friend Eileen, who was a few years older than you. She was actually the one who introduced you to your way of living. The art of witchcraft. She taught you mostly everything she knew, specializing in love. The most dangerous part of crafting. She even taught you how to make the love potion in the pie. The pie that he’ll eat. 

   Eileen said that she’ll meet with you at the hall. A stuffy run-down chapel that no one used, that was built in the 20s. It was a bit ironic that the governor chose Elvis, he wasn’t known for his godly beliefs but for his rather devilish dances. The governor came to realize the only way he could change the town was to shift the focus of religion, so people would feel comfortable living here. 

   Eileen had introduced you to a cult a few towns over that allowed you to express yourself better. To allow your blessings to become stronger. The cold nips at your legs and the pad between your thighs make your skin even more sensitive. Your black stockings didn’t allow any warmth. The dark wool coat with fur-lined on the inside was your only heat source. Your black jean dress had a white long sleeve under it to give you a little bit more heat too. The wool socks under your boots helped a bit too. Your cheeks and nose are painted a dusty pink.

   The pie was in a plastic round Tupperware bowl. Surely he'd only need one bite for it to hit, you made absolutely no mistake in making the pie potent. Not wanting for your only chance of him falling in love with you go to waste. Oct 31st, 1957 you were going to make Elvis Presley fall madly in love with you. 

 

 The chapel breathed with people. The seniors in town didn't bother coming. They were actually repulsed by the notion of Elvis coming here. However, the hundred or so people who did were in a two-hundred-mile radius. You're not sure how they knew he was coming but they were here. You shuffled past all the different giddy girls, trying to find Eileen. She'd most likely be in the back eating the crackers that they stored for commission. 

    From the amount of people who came it looked like the second coming of Christ. The governor decided to make a row of food outside for the people who couldn't get in. Handing out plates full of homemade meals. You knew that you had to hide the pie in the back closet. How you were going to make Elvis eat it would be the most important question. Maybe since you and Eileen were huddled in the back he’d walk past and you’d be able to convince him. That was a big maybe. 

   Your attention went back to the governor who looked at you. The governor was an older man, named Henry. Late in his 40s with dark black hair now turned gray. He was tall and wasn't ugly in the slightest. His family was politicians, founded the town even though it was his right to become governor when his legacy was passed down. His lineage extends to the church along with the police. His Father was the priest of the chapel until he died a few years ago. The only reason why you knew this was because you had a fling with him. He was cute and the town was little so why wouldn’t you? It was only until you realized that the love pollen only amplified their deepest subconscious was what warded you off of him. He was nothing but the son of Satan himself. Coming home and finding him doped up to the point where he’s incapable of thinking because the only thing he could think about was you. Thankfully, Eileen helped you reverse the spell but something still in him yearns to be with you. You learned from your mistake and made the pie far less potent. 

   As you stood in the long line you listened to women chatter amongst themselves about Elvis and where he was. Holding onto your plastic bowl you moved in with the crowd, slowly but surely. The table the governor was sitting at was right by the chapel's door. He smiled as he handed over another full plate. 

   “Thanks for comin’.”

   Finally making it to the door he holds his hands out expecting you to give your pie to him with a smile. His dark blue eyes are holding you frozen. You see his smile falter when he realizes it’s you. His face drains. 

   “I never knew you liked Elvis.”

   He crosses his arms, giving you a shocked face. You shrug your shoulders. 

   “You never asked, Henry.”

   He nodded, his eyes falling to his feet thinking for a second before he looked back up. Excitement etched into his face. 

   “Say, why don’t I take you out tonight. We can go back to my house, get fat off some candy, and watch old cartoons after the show?”

    You give him a sheepish smile, patting him softly on the shoulder. His eyes light up at you touching him. You almost feel bad for letting him down. 

   “How about a different night?”

   His face falls and he nods. 

   “Yeah, that’s fine.”

   He sniffles as tears well up in his eyes. 

   “Jus’ miss you is all.”

   You blink a few times, trying to regain your mind. You hear women gossiping about you behind you. 

   “I know, I’ll see you around though.”

   He wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands, his eyes lingering on you far longer than they should’ve.

 The church pews were gone so the floor was open. There were people stuffed into corners and billowed out the doors in lines. As you made your way in you were hit with overwhelming heat from all of the energies combining together. Your wool jacket almost made you sweat. 

 You weaved your way through the back, getting glares shot at you. Rubbing arms with others as you went behind the curtains down the hall to the familiar door where you and Eileen hid during Sunday mass for free food. Relieved to find that no one was in the back it made it easy. Everyone was too focused on the front. You positioned the plastic bowl on your hip and knocked three times. 

   You stood there looking back and forth to make sure that your coast was clear and it was. Your stomach aches with a tight squeeze. Menstrual cramps settling in. You wonder for a moment if Elvis would still fuck you if you bled. The thought made you nervous, and the fur of your jacket dampened. Goddammit, Eileen, where were you? 

   You raise your fist to knock again before you hear a muffled voice. 

   “Password?”

   You roll your eyes popping your hip out that has the tub on it. 

   “Eileen I don’t have time for this.”

    Pleading doesn’t help. 

   “Whose Eileen? Only a witch burns here.”

   After thinking carefully about what the password could be, it finally dawns on you. Witch. Eileen and her play on words are going to be the death of you. She was a highly intelligent individual, which was one of the reasons that drew you to her. 

   “Salem, final answer.”

   Groaning the answer, she smirked behind the door. 

   “What year?”

   Pushing your sweaty forehead against the wooden door, you shut your eyes tight. A sinner sweating in church—how comical. 

   “1692 through 3, let me in. I don't have time for this; he can be here any minute!”

   You take your head off the door once you feel the momentum shift, and it reveals Eileen. A petite, long-haired woman whose face was practically bone, with striking green eyes, beams at you. Mouth stuffed with cheap saltine crackers—you don’t know how she enjoys those things. 

   “You know there’s a feast outside.”

   Remarking on how strange it was that she’d rather eat cheap crackers than a home-cooked meal. She chews slowly, the tub of crackers in one hand as you walk into the small closet. Kicking the door behind you closed with the heel of your boot. A light bulb dangles in the middle, illuminating the room. Bibles and crosses line the shelves. Your skin erupts with goose flesh. The smaller woman shrugs.

   “Half of the stuff out there will poison me, I know those old bats target us.”

   She smiles softly, her voice muffled as she finally swallows. 

    “Like you with your own poison.”

   She wiggles her eyebrows and smiles as you grow flustered.

     “Be more quiet, Eileen! It’s like you want us to get caught!”

    Scoffing, you turn around, reaching high up, and place the tub on one of the shelves next to a bible. You discard your coat over the top of the plastic. Turning back around, you watch her stuff more crackers into her mouth. Half the tub is gone. 

     “Do you think it will actually work this time? I mean, not like what happened with Henry; he’s a wreck out there.”

   Sighing at the end of your sentence. You wanted Elvis to be in love with you; sure, so did every woman and girl in the world, but you didn’t want him to be devastatingly obsessed with you. Eileen shakes her head. For the first time in minutes, she puts the jar on one of the shelves and swallows thickly. 

   “Honey I watched you practice; I even asked the superiors what they thought, and they even encouraged your attempt. Yes, y/n I think you’ll be fine.”

   “Promise?”

   She sticks out her pinky, and you wrap yours around it. There’s a screech of feedback into a microphone and a roll of thunder as it begins to pour rain. 

    “As you may know, my name is Elvis Presley.”

 

 Big, heavy policemen were situated in the front and center of the stage, holding women who threw themselves at Elvis, back into the crowd. He was only a couple of feet above the regular ground. A few managed to slip through and got to Elvis. He’d laugh and shake it off, singing the rest of Hound Dog. As the men got distracted, you and Eileen held hands and tucked yourselves by the front left of the stage. Some girls shot you dirty looks, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t already seen before. The people in the room were stuffed so tight that you couldn’t stand still without touching elbows with someone. 

    He shifted his hips back and forth, his black trousers hanging loosely on his skinny hips. His orange shirt clung to his sweaty skin, and the dark brown wool jacket did him no favors. His black hair was slicked back so much that you could see the globs of gel. He’s struggling with the cord of the microphone, moving around so much that it keeps getting tangled. Throwing his head back and standing on his tiptoes, he takes off his jacket, and the girls scream at the action. One of them manages to grab the sleeve and drag it off the stage, and a couple of them fight over it. He restrains himself from laughing hysterically. His leg starts jumping. His eyes run over the vast group, and they fall on you. Eileen squeezes your hand, smiling at you. His eyes linger on you as he sings, then he looks away, breaking your spell, and walks to the other side of the stage. It wasn’t more than a second but it felt like hours. 

    Thunder booms throughout the sky, and the lightning makes the artwork on the windows glimmer. The storm outside grows. The song finally ends and he’s a huffing mess. He sips on the glass of water by the rest of his band. He sets the glass back down on a stool and stands in the middle again in front of the microphone.

         “Never been much of a Halloween guy, but y’all are makin’ me change my mind.”

       He swallows, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. His voice is quieter with the crowd roaring. 

   “What am I goin' to do with all you women?”

   He licks his lips, his fat bottom lip tucked between his front teeth as he revels in the roar. 

   “Huh?”

   Egging them on, you just watch amazed- speechless at how he has a hundred people at his will. Similar to how Jesus willed people together. 

   He cups the microphone in his big hand and drags the stand with him as he walks to the side of the stage, farthest away from you. The girls claw at him over the policeman's shoulders. He crouches down on his knees.

    “Shouldn't ask this in a holy house, but I'm sure God will forgive me for it,”

   “What d’ya want me to do to you after the show?”

   He pushes the mic over to a young girl no older than sixteen in a white dress. She's a mess. 

    “I-i can't say that!” 

    She shrieks and it makes him smile, shaking his head. He stands and takes away the mic. 

   “Y’all got some dirty minds.”

    He walks to the middle of the stage leaning over to a girl whose face is red and she's hyperventilating. Her big eyes almost came out of her head as she stared at Elvis. She almost weeps as he asks her the same question. She's paralyzed and can't speak. 

   “Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

   He smiles wide, amused by his joke. 

   “Or do I?”

   You watch as she turns white as a ghost, her body falls lump and the girls behind her hold her up. She fainted from just talking to him. It's a hassle for everyone to part and an officer to lift her up and escort her out. Elvis shakes his head again before moving over to the side you were on. You stare at his creased leather shoes. They're polished but the creases make white lines across them. The laces aren't matched on both of them either. 

   “Gon’ do one more ‘fore I gotta start doin’ my job again.”

    A few boos were shouted. The others screamed suggestions for him to play. He smiles before crouching to you. A cop in front is sandwiched between you two. You can see the sweat beaded on his forehead and trickle down the base of his throat. The lightning struck and a few girls jumped but you were too enchanted with his eyes. A shade of blue you’ve never seen before. It’s a staring contest between you both. Testing to see whose will is strongest. His eyes held the fire burning in your stomach. He made the fever boil your skin. He made you undeniably horny. The longer you stare the more time you commit his gaze to memory. His plush lips part and he asks the question. 

   The room is hot as hell itself. You can’t hear from the storm and the women, but the metal mic is placed in front of you. His hand is mere inches from your face, he has a couple gold rings on his fingers. You want to taste the sweat. Suck on those long digits until the diamonds weigh heavy on your tongue. Without hesitation, you speak into the microphone proudly. Staring him straight in his eyes. 

   “I want you to fuck me after the show.”

   The room goes quiet. The heavy pattering of rain is the only thing heard. Gasps spread throughout the small chapel. A few applauded your bravery for saying what they wanted to say but couldn’t. His dark blue eyes with dark lashes go wide. Blinking profusely at what your voice told him. You just a little nungen wanted to fuck him. Shocked to find that a little girl had thoughts of a grown woman. His mouth is parted as he breathes heavily, removing the microphone from you back to the front of the stage. He just stares at you enamored. For the first time in years since he started performing he’s speechless. That bold dominant act of a man is gone and replaced by a blushing boy. 

   He regains himself with his deep chuckle, which brings your thighs to dampen with slickness. You shift your thighs together to satiate the pulse of your throbbing clit. Eileen beams up at you like a child given a bag of candy. She doesn't need to say that you did it and that your plan is working, you know it. 

  He leans between the cop, close to your face to where you can smell his breath. Peppermint and cola. 

   “Meet me in the back, and I’ll make it happen.”

 

 He finishes the show as a heaping puddle in the middle of the stage. The last song was Crying in the Chapel which you deemed the utmost respect. The cops start to push people out of the chapel, and the doors opening makes the sound of rain louder along with the raging whip of the wind. Most people dashed out to their cars, and others had to wait beside a designated corner to be picked up. Eileen squeezes your hand once more. Leaning her lips to your ear she whispers. 

   “Make sure he eats at least a crumb.”

   She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she leaves. The curtains had closed around the stage so you couldn’t see Elvis but you knew the only way out was the side of the stage where you stood. A few lingered and watched as he left, giving a sheepish wave. You absentmindedly tried to walk straight past the cops but their arms struck out and hit you in your stomach pulling you back. Confusion writes across your face. 

   “I need to go back there.”

   The cop smiles and laughs. 

   “Yeah, you and every girl in here.”

   You shake your head. 

   “You don’t get it Elvis gave me permission to meet him back there.”

   He gives you an incredulous look not believing you. You rub your temples and sigh, becoming frustrated before you have to pull out the card you dreaded most. 

   “Listen, I know the governor and he trusts me enough to be back there. I have my jacket and a pie I made for the banquet in the storage closet. I just need to go back there and get it, that's all. I’ll come right back and it won’t be more than a minute.”

  It’s quiet and you’re not sure if your half-true story would work. You’re more worried that he’s left already and thinking that you stood him up. Finally, the cop shrugs and shifts horizontally to allow you to pass as you do you smile. He grabs your arm before you can get too far. 

   “No more than three minutes.”

   “Yessir.”

    He lets go and you continue to walk to the door that Elvis had walked behind. You’re not sure where you’ll find him. There are only three different rooms in the little hallway, one of them is a unisex bathroom, the other is the pastor's office and the other is the storage room. Some of Elvis’s band walks past you talking about what they're going to do after the show. They don’t even care that you’re around them as they shuffle out the back door at the end of the hall. You go to the closet and open the door not expecting to find the man of the hour there. Your stomach drops and your body burns with goosebumps. Cheeks heating up flustered. 

   Absolutely floored. He’s eating the pie. The lid is discarded by your jacket. He’s sitting on the edge of a square table, Eileen’s cracker tub empty by him. He takes his thick index with a chunky golden ring and swipes it through the last syrup and crumb of the pie. His legs are spread out wide, and the black slacks cover his wide thighs. He sticks the pad of his finger between his plump lips and his cheeks hollow out. He places the tub by the crackers and leans his head back. He closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat. 

   You can’t even begin to fathom what’s happening. You don’t know why he would choose your food in the back. How he chose the closet rather than the pastor's office. Why did he eat the pie when there’s a feast outside but then the realization hits. None of the visitors brought food and only the residents brought some so the visitors ate all the food outside waiting so he had none. From the mere viewing of watching him eat, he was ravenous. Dread fills you as you realize he’s eaten the entire goddamn thing. Realizing someone was in the room with him he stared at you, his eyes half closed as his gaze ran over you. He licks his lips and wipers his hand on the top of his trousers. He leans back, putting his hands behind him. 

   “Did you make this?”

   His voice is hoarse and a deep gravel within his chest. Blood rushes to your cheeks. Could he tell that you were that inconspicuous? That he could taste the pollen? No. He couldn’t, could he? You nod, incapable of speaking. Your throat is dry from anxiety. 

   “It’s really good. Should be a baker or somethin’”

   He breathes heavily, his cheeks and neck a bit pink. His face is still glossed with sweat. 

   “I wanna know what you cooked in it. Jus’ something I ain’t ever tasted before.”

   Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You’ve stood in the same spot in front of the closed door. 

   “It’s a secret. An old recipe that uses natural oils.”

You hoped and prayed that your answer wasn’t as suspicious as it seems. He nods his head before standing. 

   “‘M sorry for eatin’ all of it. Didn’ mean to, I just burn through so much energy out there. Can’t help myself.”

   You smile shakily. 

   “Oh.”

   He scratches the back of his neck, grinning. His face is becoming more red with the blush creeping up his neck. He stands in the middle of the room only a few feet away. 

   “Which led me to eatin’ your pie. Hope you’re not angry or nothin’”

   You shake your head, wringing your hands anxiously. You can’t look at him so you look at his shoes. His smell has taken over the room. Your hormones being amplified because of your period makes his scent intoxicating. From the way he’s acting it seems like how you smell is making him antsy too. He’s tapping his foot. 

   “Made it for you.”

   As soon as you mutter the end of your sentence he walks to you. He reaches out and takes one of your hands and it makes your heart stop. You look up at him with wide eyes. The height difference makes him overlook you, he cranes his head down peering at you. Your knees go weak looking in his eyes. He smiles wide, pearly teeth and squeezes your hand. Your back is up against the wooden door as he holds you against it with his waist. His torso pressed firmly against yours. You can feel him. Feel how solid his cock is. 

   “You did? I appreciate that honey.”

   You wish he would kiss you, touch you more but he doesn’t. He just holds your hand, his grip makes the metal of his rings pinch your hand. You watch his mood shift in his eyes to a much darker tone. You can see the sweat bead and fall down his sculpted face. Feel the heat radiate off of his vast body. 

   “Pretty little thing.”

   His voice has dropped an octave lower and it’s nothing more than a mumble but you hear it. Before he leans in there’s a banging by your head. It slams three times over. 

   “Ready to go!”

   His touch leaves and your heart aches. A sheen of sadness wedges it into his eyes. He realizes that this might be the last time he sees you before he leaves for Memphis. 

   “Gimme your address.”

   He pushes out hurriedly. It’s not a question, it's a demand. You start stuttering an unfamiliar speech impediment summoning. 

   “I-I don’t have anything to write on or with.”

   He nods solemnly but he doesn’t take no as an answer. He removes himself from you entirely and scavenges throughout the small room. He finally grabs one of the Bibles and a pen tucked inside the book. He hands both of them to you and you take them. As you open the front page you write your address and name on the front cover. It’s strange since it’s like giving him your autograph. As you write your address he’s hovering over you watching you etch your way into his heart. The man on the other side pounds on the door once more. 

   “There’s a cop out here asking ‘bout some girl. You gotta open up!” 

   Elvis’s hand softly graces your shoulder, urging you to finish. 

   “Just give me a damn second!”

   He bites back through gritted teeth. You jump at his sudden outburst. Finishing suddenly with a period. He smiles hugely seeing you done. He kisses your cheek and you’re stunned at the softness of his lips against your skin. You give him the book and turn around to watch him leave. As he touches the door handle he pivots. 

   “I want to know your name.”

   You’re taken aback not understanding why, but you say it nonetheless. He nods his head, saying it to himself, committing it to memory. 

   “I like that name, it suits you.”

   Warmth spreads over you at his compliment. You stare at his broad back as he opens the door and leaves. You listen to the rain, as the familiar cop is stunned to see Elvis so close. Before he walks into the small room watching you melt. 

   “I told you three minutes.”

   “I know, he just took longer than I expected.”

 

 Sitting quietly in the back of one of the officers' cars. After the rendezvous with Elvis, you watched as the cops took people who lived in town back home. Serving as a transportation hub. You waited for your turn. The cop didn’t say a lot during the ride, only a few questions about where you lived and about Elvis. You shivered every time you talked about the musician. Not only was it freezing in the car, but your furry coat couldn’t keep up. But you were riddled with the fact that he had eaten the entire pie. You traced your fingers over the plastic tub in your lap. Not only did he do that, he has your address. Will he visit you tonight? Will he visit you at all? 

  It’s dark outside as you pass through streetlights. Your stomach twists and fills with butterflies as you think about him being in your home. Something that you imagined for so long is now coming true. 

   “Is this it up here?”

   The cop asks and you nod, he parks and watches you walk up the sidewalk and into your house before he leaves. 

   The rain manages to soak you for the few minutes you walk in it. Your house is grim when you enter. Dark and cold. You take off your jacket and place it and the tub on the island in the kitchen. Opening the drawer below the sink you take a box of matches and light the candles you had scattered around the house. The soft glow allowed warmth to spread. The smell of pumpkins started to flourish throughout your home. 

  Turning on your little box television to a random black and white cartoon. The last thing you decided to do to get settled in was to play a record. Your collection has grown over the past few years. You had more Elvis albums than any other musicians. Making a vital point to buy one whenever a movie of his would come out or a listening party would be announced. Making Eileen drive you to the nearest record store since the one in town wouldn’t have it until a week later. You’ve arranged his albums to be the ones in the front. Knowing that you were more likely to play those than any other. The record player itself sat between the columns. You touched the covers as you shuffled through. Deciding to put loving you on since it was fairly new. 

  You start to sway your hips to the first song that plays. Slipping off your boots and socks you walk to the back of the house where your bedroom was. You unbuttoned the oval buttons on your dress and folded it onto your dresser. Left in the long sleeve and little cotton panties. You opened the drawers, mumbling the words to yourself as you listened to Elvis’s singing. You grabbed a new pair of panties and a nightgown. Shedding the rest of your clothes you take the new ones with you into your small bathroom and draw a bath. 

   The hot water fills the tub and the room becomes a sauna, you place the clothes on your sink and grab the towel from the cupboard. You stare at your naked body in the mirror. Your body is already damp from the rainwater and the condensation that fills the air. Your nipples are already hard from thinking about him. God did the pollen work on you instead of him? You run your hands over your sides, up from your hips to the swell of your breasts. Imagining his hands instead. His song plays as you sway to his voice. Talk to me like that. Sing to me. Tell me you love me. It thunders outside and lightning flashes through the window above your bathtub. 

  You sigh, skin flushed from the heat. You step your foot into the hot water and turn off the faucet. Slipping deeper into the water. Completely relaxing into the oasis. You wonder what his lips will feel like on your own. What his mouth will feel like between your legs. Would he care about the taste of blood on his tongue? You close your eyes and dream. Surely you won’t have to dream any longer. You reach up, and the droplets of water run down your chest. Taking a tiny jar of essential oils you let it drip onto your neck and spread down. Cleansing and releasing your energy. You put the jar back where you got it from and lounged in the alluring water. 

   What if it didn't work? You ask yourself as insecurity wedges itself into your thoughts. He seemed awfully engaged in you at the chapel, but what if that's as far as it'll go? Your heart aches at the thought you did all of it for nothing. Maybe you should've learned from what happened to Henry and cut your ties. You don't hear the knock on your door, because the record is too loud. You think about how fitting it is that lonesome cowboy plays. 

   You hear the incessant pounding on your door like one of those cheesy horror movies where the victim runs to the house to escape the villain. You thought it would go away but it doesn't, it just gets louder. You groan, opening your eyes to stare at the white tiled wall.

   “Just a second!”

   You yell out and you blush as you remember him yelling that out earlier just to have a little more time with you. There's a dreadful ache between your legs as you dry off with the towel. You need something to fill the emptiness, that void that's growing oh so apparent. You need him. 

  You don’t drain the tub, as you put on your panties. Not caring if you bleed into them, Eileen knows a remedy to get the stains out anyway. The nightgown is dark red with the lace around your tits and thighs black. You smile as you remind yourself of a skimpier Betty Boop. You can't answer the door looking so promiscuous so you throw the fluffy bathrobe over it. The banging on your door grows, along with Elvis's slow love ballads. 

  Opening the door you're instantly hit with a massive gust of wind and emotions. It's him. He looks like a kicked puppy. He's sopping wet with water. His orange shirt is now a dark brown. His hair is messy and scattered along his face. His once dark blue eyes are now pale gray. He's heaving for air. As you stare longer you realize he didn't drive a car. He ran here with the Bible you wrote in his hand.

   “Elvis! I-what're you doing here? Why are you in the rain?” 

  Your brain runs too fast for you to comprehend his presence. The faint glow of your candles from inside is the only light shining onto his face. 

   “Had to see you. Ever since the show, I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I've never felt like this before.”

   His voice is sheepish like he’s afraid to admit what he just said. As he looks at you he’s almost brought to tears by how pretty you look. If you don’t let him in he’ll sit right down on your porch in front of your door and wait until you do. 

   “I mean come in, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there!”

   You grab onto his forearm and pull him in, opening the door wider for him. He winced at your touch. It’s too much for him, he’s too sensitive. You shut the door behind him and he stands in front of it like a statue. He sets the Bible down on top of one of his records, he smiles. He stares down at the floor, he can’t look at you. You wring your hands nervously. He’s not the same man you saw at the chapel, he’s softer, fragile. 

  “Let me get you some clothes, and warm up the bath. I’ll be right back hon don’t go anywhere.”

  You turn to leave and he catches your hand. His eyes are glassy and his lips pout. His hand is strikingly cold, and his eyebrows are furrowed. 

   “Can I go with you? I don't want to be alone again.”

   You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating how you are going to fix him. God the pie worked. It worked too well. You nodded your head. You were going to have to call Eileen for her help, you can't have a human puppy always following you, especially since it was Elvis. 

  “Why don't we start by taking off your shoes and socks, yeah? Don't want you to leave a trail behind you.”

  He nods, he's already made a puddle by your door from just standing there. 

   “Yes, mama.”

   Your heart pounds in your chest. For some reason, your body burns alight at the name. He’s bent down and untying his shoes. 

  “What did you call me?”

  You ask softly, not believing your ears. 

  “Mama, I hope that’s fine I just I lov-,”

  He stops himself and chews on his bottom lip cursing himself for slipping up. 

  “I just like ya so much that I wanna call you mama..you make me feel so different, so-so special like my own mama does and I just- I can’t help calling you it.”

  He’s rambling now, trying to justify the newfound feelings he’s having. Feelings that are too big for him to have. Too potent and unfamiliar. He’s had girlfriends that he’s loved, sure, but never so much so as he does about you right now. 

  He finally slips off his shoes and socks and stands upright. He trails behind you as you walk back into your room. He’s mesmerized by all your decor and art. The makeup scattered on your vanity. The frame of your bed. Your clothes. The smell of your perfume. Everything you like, he loves. He keeps asking you questions about your interests and the various cult things you have strewn about. You answer every question given honestly. It’s the least you can do. You didn’t realize how difficult it was to find clothes in your own wardrobe to fit him. The record finally stops and scratches on repeat. 

  You hand him a baggy white shirt and some checkered boxers he can change into. You show him the bathroom, and as you enter he’s only seconds away from following. You sit on the edge of the tub, sticking your hand into the water to see if it’s cool enough. You turn on the faucet to warm it. As you wait, he sits on the toilet by you. He stretches his long legs out as he watches you. He takes off his rings and places them on the sink with the clothes you gave him. 

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you.”

   He mumbles and it makes you blush. He thinks you’re pretty. Not only that but he thinks you’re incomparable. 

  “You don’t mean that.”

  You shake your head, as you reply he finishes taking off his rings, and one of his hands cups your jaw. Making you look him dead in his uncanny eyes. 

  “What’s there not to like mama? I like everything ‘bout you and I don’t like it when you don’t see what I see,”

   He runs his thumb over your chin. 

   “It ain’t right thinkin’ that you ain’t pretty.”

   You nod. He shakes his head. 

   “Say it.”

   “I’m pretty.”

   He smiles, but it’s cold. There’s no mirth behind it. The water is finally hot enough for him to get in. 

  “It’s ready.”

  He nods and removes his touch from you. You go to stand and he holds onto your hand. Giving you puppy eyes. 

  “Don’t want you to leave.”

   You didn’t feel right leaving him, but you also desperately needed to call Eileen and ask her how to make him human again. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering what the right thing is. Finally, you smile at him. 

  “I’ll be right outside by the door. I just have to call a friend and ask her when the storm should pass.”

   His eyes linger on you and he finally lets go. 

   “Alright, don’t go too far mama I’ll miss you.”

  You give him a soft smile and walk outside the door, closing it behind you. Walking back to the front of the house you stopped the record from scratching again. Putting the plastic back into its sleeve and by the Bible. 

   The old rotary phone stuck to the wall is right next to the door and the player. You hear him take off his clothes, the wet smack of them hitting the floor makes your thighs burn. You dial Eileen’s number, cradling the phone to your face. She needs to pick up, if she doesn’t you’re not sure what you’ll do. The line is dead until she finally picks up. 

  “You’re going to have to hurry, I'm with Jim.”

  Eileen says hurriedly. Jim was her latest fling and the superior in the cult. You sigh in relief at her static voice. You curl the cord around your finger as you think. 

   “Elvis is here. In my house.”

   “That’s good!”

   Eileen says ecstatically. 

   “No, not good. It’s Henry level bad again.”

   “Oh.”

   She whispers into the phone, her mood instantly changing. 

   “How much did he eat?”

   You rub your temples as the memory of him in the chapel comes back. 

   “The whole thing.”

   She whistles low. Your anxiety grows as the morbid thoughts come into play. 

   “Well, you’re not going to like how to reverse it.”

   You’re happy to know that you can even reverse it. 

   “Really, how?”

   “Mama..”

  Elvis whines loudly. It’s a high-pitched whine. You listen and hear the water splashing around. 

   “Jim told me how to reverse it, and Elvis is going to need to taste your blood.”

   “My blood!”

   You shriek at the incredulity of this all. 

   “How am I supposed to get him to taste my blood?!”

   Eileen is quiet on the other side of the phone for a few seconds. 

   “Are you on your period?”

   You're taken aback as to why the question matters. And then it hits you. He has to eat you out. A shiver runs up your spine. 

   “Mama..”

   Elvis whines out again. 

   “Yes, why?”

   You can hear Eileen talk to Jim before she's rushed to hang up. 

   “It's going to help you out, trust me. Oh! And before I forget he's going to have to taste his semen and your blood together. It's a love spell after all and lovemaking is the best solution to get it out of him. Bye, y/n!”

   The line goes dead after, and your mouth falls open in shock. Not only were you going to have to make him sleep with you, but you were going to have to make him eat you out after. You placed your head on the wall, putting the phone back into the case. Listening to the wailing man in the bathtub moan out Mama for the third time. 

   

It was strange seeing him in normal clothes. They were all too big for him, so they hung loosely on his body. He nursed a glass of warm milk to sip on as he sat beside you and watched the old black-and-white movie play. His gold rings gleamed brighter with the candles. Your couch could only seat three people, and he chose to sit in the middle, closest to you. His arm stretched out behind you. A quilt was shared between you both. He smelled like you. It finally felt like things had died down and simmered. It felt like when a teen girl had a boy over at her parent's house just to watch movies. You couldn't help yourself from going over what Eileen had said. Make him fuck you and eat you out after. 

   You've only spoken to him briefly since he got out of the bath. He only asked for a warm glass of milk, and the rest was quiet. There's a sensual scene playing on the TV. A woman is arching her back as the man thrusts into her, it looks as if it was made in the ‘30s. 

   You feel the soft brush of his lips against your ear as he whispers. 

   “I think I could do that to you better than he can.”

   Finally, after everything, you let go and surrender yourself to him. Not caring for the consequences, just relishing the moment. You crane your neck to the side, looking at him. His eyes are glossed over and his pale blues trail over your face. The tip of his nose is mere inches from your cheek. His middle finger swirls over the top of the glass. His lips are damp from the milk. His eyes burn into your stomach, directly into your womb.

    “You think so?”

   You ask and he nods, his voice dropping, and he takes a sip from his glass. His Adam's apple bobbles as he swallows.  

     “I know so.”

     He leans forward, placing the glass on your coffee table, and sits back, spreading his legs out wide so his knee touches yours. When you look at him, you can’t resist; you take the blanket off of his lap and yours. You swing a leg over his lap and sit down on his broad thighs. He looks up at you as you lean down. His hands squeeze the sides of your thighs, and his rings are cold on your legs. Your robe is parting so he can see your cleavage, and his eyes flick from your tits back to your eyes. The woman moans in the program. You can feel how solid his cock is—warm, hard, and right between your weeping legs. His lips are parted, and his hot breath fans across your cheeks. 

   “Can I suck on them, mama?”

   He whispers to you. You nod, shifting back so you’re sitting down fully, face to-face with him. Your robe and night dress are riding up your thighs. Taking the sash in your hand, you slip it through the rest of the robe. The sides fall open, you shimmy it off, and it falls onto your floor with a soft thud. Your nipples are already pebbled; the nightdress didn’t leave much to the imagination. He stares at the peaks. His hands leave your thighs, and they shake as they hover over your tits. You’d be shocked if he was a virgin from his rampant lifestyle, but now it looks like he’s never even touched a woman. He can’t touch you; he’ll burn. You perched on his lap, which is enough for the blood to rush to his lower abdomen. In all honesty, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this hard- not since he first hit puberty. 

   He feels your tiny hands touch his big ones and place them on your tits. He doesn’t grope; he just holds them there. The warmth in his palms makes the buds perk up even more. 

   “Oh.”

   He mutters. You wiggle your hips on his length, and his head hits the back of the couch. His eyes roll back. He slips the bands of your dress off, and the garment pools around your hips. The bareness of your body makes you shiver. He pauses, admiring from afar. He likes the swell, the curve, and the color. He likes all of it. All of you. He cups the sides of your chest, pushing them together and watching them fall. You’re too sensitive for his bemusement. 

  “Elvis, please..”

   You urge him by pushing his hands firmly onto both of your tits. He nods, and a hand drops onto your lower back, leading you closer to him. Your stomach pressed against his. He takes one of your breasts, his mouth parting as he licks over your nipple. You arch your back to his face like the actress did on the screen. He takes the rest of it into his mouth. The wet softness of his tongue sends a wrath of fluttering to your cunt. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as his teeth graze the sensitive nerves. He gropes your hips with his free hand, encouraging you to grind against him. His eyes are closed, and his grip on your waist is going to leave a bruise. His rings bite into your skin. He nibbles on your nipple; it makes you jump and moan out his name, long and slow. 

    His hips jut up into your pussy, making you bounce when you come down. You feel dampness seep onto the lips of your cunt. He hits his head back onto the couch. He moans deep in his chest. He’s panting. 

   “Did you-?”

   You ask quietly, not trying to upset him, and he nods. 

   “Yeah, I think so.”

    He admits it absentmindedly. You smile softly, and before getting up, you press a quick kiss on his temple. It’s sweaty, but you can’t care. He watches you like a wolf as the dress falls off of you and down on the floor over your robe, leaving you in your little panties that have a dark patch under them. He adores how you look in the soft light of the candles and the TV static. The rain pours on. He lifts his hips up, slipping the boxers down his long legs. His cock springs up between his legs. Your expectations were exceeded. He’s uncut, thicker than you imagined, and what he lacks in length he makes up for with girth. The head is a ruddy color, and purple veins pulse along the side. It’s painful how hard he is—pins and needles shooting at his nerves. Even if he just came, he’s still rock solid. Cum is dripping out of his slit and down his length. Pooling at his balls. 

   Yours–his shirt, hangs over his taut stomach, touching the base. He crosses his arms and lifts the shirt over his head, leaving him bare on your couch. There’s a mountain of clothes on the floor, along with the blanket. The sight you imagined for so long made your clit throb. His legs spread out, his heavy dick in the middle of his thick thighs, and his arms spread out along the edge of the couch. His inky hair scattered messily along his face. But most of all, the way he looks at you, hungrily as a man starved. 

   You tuck your fingers under the band of your panties and take them off. His cock twitches at seeing you bare, he wets his lips. 

   “Can I make love with you mama?”

   You smile sheepishly as you walk over to him. Sitting beside him, you cup his face. Scratching softly at his cheeks. 

   “Of course.”

   You press your lips to his and it feels like fireworks burst within your soul. Getting a kiss from Elvis was a milestone in your book. His lips were soft, and his tongue tasted like milk. He was slow at first, letting you be in control, but as your tiny hands wrap around his broad shoulders and pull at the hair at the base of his neck, he loses himself. He becomes hungry, pushing his fat tongue into your mouth. He grabs onto your hips, making you lay down on the couch. Your head is by the end table. He moans into your mouth when he feels your soft thighs around his skinny waist. The groan vibrates into your chest, making you squirm. His body feels like a sauna, making you sweat. His body is sticking to yours. He leans back, his knees touching your ass. He takes his cock into his hand, jerking himself off a few times. Not that he needs to, but so he can keep whatever composure he has left. 

  His lips finally leave yours, letting you both regain your breath. It’s only then, as he looks at your pussy, he realizes you're bleeding. An inexplicable wave washes over him. Adrenaline and hormones beat into his heart. He needs to fuck his kid into you. Needs to breed you and fill you up. A brutal,l primal hunger grows within him. 

 “I don’t think I can go slow.”

 He admits it to you, and you can’t even answer before his tip works its way into your tight cunt. His mouth falls open, and you squeeze his shoulders. Blood mixed with your slick starts to coat his length. He doesn’t wait for you to relax around him, he pushes his way to his base in one swift thrust. Your head hits the table. 

  “Fuck!”

  You yell at his roughness. He grabs at your hips, pulling back out. His eyes stare at where he enters you. He’s obsessed with the way your pussy clings to him. How tight you are when he fucks into you. His balls hit your ass as he thrusts into you. He watches your tits bounce. You’re already overstimulated from being on your period but the heavy weight of his cock, pounding into your cervix makes tears well up in your eyes. Strangely enough, you feel that familiar wave in your stomach begins to build.

  “Gon” make you a real mama.”

  His grip on your hips tightens, his rings burying into your flesh. The lamp on the end table starts to wobble every time he snaps his hips into yours. 

  “Gon’ breed you ‘til you can’t even walk no more.”

   As you look into his eyes, you can’t find the sweet boy that once was there. He’s possessed by an animal. Hell-bent on making you his forever. His teeth are gritted as he continues his rampage. You weekly moan with every hit of his intrusion. You can’t help how badly your body craves this. The first time all night you finally felt content. He’s fucking the bad energy out of you, and what confuses you the most is how he’s doing that when he is the bad energy. His chest is glazed with sweat; he’s dripping on you. His lip curls up, and he takes his hand from your waist and puts it on top of your clit. The weight of it was enough to send you over the edge. Your body starts to shake, and your pussy tightens around him to the point where he can’t move. 

  “That’s it, mama.”

   He swirls his thumb lazily on your clit, watching your body wither on him. His thighs are becoming soaked with your cum. He watches you relax, your back flat on the couch. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly. 

  “Are you done?”

  You nod weakly.

  “Good.”

  He takes his thumb into his mouth and sucks on the blood that coats it. His eyes roll back into his skull as he starts his rhythm again. You can’t take his beating on your cunt, you plead with him to slow down but he doesn’t, he can’t. The loud slap of his body smacking into yours fills the air. Tears fall down your face as he goes as fast as he can. Your nails cling to his back. Clawing red stripes down it. He’s bound to be hurting in the morning, along with you. 

   After one of your nails makes his back start to welt with blood, he lays his hips against yours and releases. His cum hits right against your cervix, and you feel pleasantly full. 

   His balls draw up and then relax as he lets his load go in you. His grip softens into a caress. He doesn’t let his dick slip out of you as he lays down on top of you. His weight is pressing you deeper into the couch. The rain finally slows to a soft patter. It’s finally calm, and the tears on your cheeks are dry. 

  He’s drifting off to sleep, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Cradling you to his chest. You run your fingers through his damp hair, watching the rest of the movie. It’s only when he whispers, I love you into your chest by your heart, that you realize that you forgot to break the spell. All you can wonder is how long his love will last.

#xreader #fanfic #smut #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader smut #elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #elvis smut #50s elvis #season of the witch #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween smut

[megistusdiary]

Vampire kazuha with a shy reader who accidentally released him.

She ended up staying with him because she likes his company

omg i love vampires and kazuha, this is a dream

i deadass wrote a ton of plot for this but then got tired of it so i deleted it all and it's gone now 👎 sorry it's pure smut now

kazuha is veryyy flirty and confident here. idk i always felt like he was one of those poetic mfers who knows how to fuck ok idc idc

warnings: dom vampire!kazuha and sub!fem anatomy/pronouns reader

vampire au, fingering/penetration/oral (sub receiving), obligatory biting (BLOOD), manhandling, overstim lol, clothed dom/unclothed sub

you gasped when you felt the ghost of a breath on your neck, almost feeling the sharp sensation of two canines grazing the skin.

"kazu-" you called out into the darkness, eyes failing to adjust. you reached for the light switch, flicking it up and down to no avail. "kazuha?" you frowned when there was no response.

you felt it again, a touch on your wrist, a current of air across your face, hair ticking your skin as you turned around.

"kazuha, this isn't funny." you whimpered, hearing soft giggles of delight from your partner.

his hand finally came to cup your cheek, allowing you to lean into the cool touch. "i'm sorry, my love. you're just too fun to tease."

your eyes still couldn't adjust, leaving you to fumble and press your hands on his chest to steady yourself. kazuha found this cute, softly cooing to himself about how adorable humans were.

"you're all so feeble, it's shocking how there are still so many of you."

"says the vampire who's living off of me." you scoffed feeling him grip your chin with the faintest bit more pressure.

"says the little human disoriented in the dark who's relying on me to stay upright."

your lips parted to respond, cut off by kazuha running his thumb over your lips. "i have a little game i'd like to try today. won't you indulge me?"

kazuha pulled you into the bedroom, finally allowing you to see somewhat as he already lit a few candles on the windowsills. "what kind of game?"

"oh, if i told you that would ruin all of the fun." kazuha let out a tsk as you frowned. "don't pout. be a good girl and trust me. i know how much you like it when i'm the only thing filling your thoughts."

your face felt hot as kazuha smirked, leaning down to press his fangs gently into your skin. he dragged them up and down, lightly scraping, teasing you as you shivered.

"kazuha..." you sighed, slipping your hands between the soft strands of his hair, feeling his lips trail lower.

he tugged at your rain-soaked clothes, wrinkling his nose. "so messy too." he commented, helping you tug all of the wet clothes off, tossing them into the corner. "much better." he practically purred, leading you over to the bed.

"what about you?" you asked shyly, trying to cover yourself while kazuha was still completely clothed.

"don't worry about that, pretty. doesn't this make it all the more exciting? all on display for me, you look so pretty like this." he complimented you, running his hands up and down your sides as you squirmed.

kazuha gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place with minimal effort. "don't wiggle around so much, princess. come here." he turned you around, leaning you onto his chest as he tucked his chin into the crook of your shoulder.

he let his hand trail down your body, teasing across your thighs as he spread you open. "kazu.." you sighed, leaning back when he danced his fingers across your slit.

"so wet already, how cute." he grinned, gently dipping his fingers between your folds to collect your slick, dragging it back up to rub soft circles around your clit.

your hips jumped from the sudden stimulation, making kazuha wrap his other arm around you in an iron grip, anchoring you to his chest. you started to let out little gasps as kazuha hummed into your neck, taking in all your cute little noises as he eased a finger into you, holding you close to him.

"you feel so good around my fingers, i bet you'll feel as close to heaven as i'll ever get around my cock."

his words caused you to tighten further, eliciting a chuckle from kazuha as he spread your thighs open even more.

"are you going to come soon?" kazuha asked as you nodded, trembling against him. "good, but there are a few rules to my game." he sped up his fingers, crooking them inside you. "you can come as much as you want, sweetheart. but, the rule is we keep going until i come." he grinned, swiping over your clit with his thumb.

"but you- ah, you always come fast-"

kazuha scoffed, shoving his fingers into your g-spot and grinding upwards, feeling you keen in his grasp. "well you seem to be getting off pretty fast from just my fingers."

you couldn't even ask for permission, tightening around his digits and releasing as you shook against his body, slick coating his fingers as his hair tickled your cheek.

you leaned back, feeling out of breath, only to have it further knocked out of you when kazuha began to move his fingers again. "kazu, kazu, what are you- what are you doing?"

"didn't you listen to the rules, sweetheart? last i checked, i haven't come yet. i think i'd like at least another orgasm from you from just my fingers. maybe my tongue as well."

you gasped, feeling him rub your sensitive clit as you clenched your fists into his free-flowing clothes, bunching the material in your hands. "kazuha, please-"

"oh? begging? how odd. you only ever beg when you want more." you tried to protest but kazuha silenced you by rubbing into your g-spot again, feeling your walls spasm around his fingers.

"that's n-not fair, kazuha." you stuttered, hips chasing his fingers beneath his unyielding grip. "archons..." you arched your back as you came again, soaking the skin of his hand again, shaking from the aftermath as kazuha watched your every movement with lust-filled eyes.

you felt kazuha lift you up, letting out a short-lived sigh that turned into a squeak when kazuha maneuvered you to hover over his mouth. "kazu, no! i'm sensitive-!" you cried out, hands finding purchase in his hair, tugging at the scarlet strands.

his grip on your waist was tight, dragging you across his tongue at his own leisurely pace, pressing his tongue into your hole just to hear you call out his name so angelically.

you gasped sharply when kazuha moved to bite your inner thigh gently, drawing beads of blood and licking them up, dragging his tongue back and forth between the blossoming blood from the cut and your clit.

"so good," he mumbled into you, sending vibrations up your spine as you shivered, thighs tensing around his head as he dragged you to ride his face.

your grip went tight in his hair, though you caused him no pain as you rode out yet another orgasm with no warning, kazuha shaking his tongue back and forth across your clit to have you wriggling above him, desperate to escape the stimulation. "kazu, kazuha-" you mumbled as he finally pulled you up, unbuckling his belt to free his weeping dick from its confines. moving your position by himself, he had you hovering over his cock.

you were babbling pleas for him to just fuck you already, whining for him as he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "humans are so interesting." he suddenly commented as he slowly sank you onto his cock, groaning at the tightness as you practically screamed in delight. "no matter what creatures i've met, you are by far the most enchanting."

kazuha tenderly cupped your cheek, making you meet his blood-red eyes. "you...mean that?" you asked, eyes wide as kazuha leaned forward to kiss you deeply, mindful of his fangs as he gently nipped at your lip.

"i've lived many years, met many wonderous people, but none can compare to you, my dear." kazuha leaned forward towards your neck, teasing you by grazing his fangs over the skin. "now, be good for me, and let's finish this game, hm?"

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #halloween smut #vampire smut #vampire kazuha #vampire x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha smut #✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚ #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚