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2af-afterdark · 5 months

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Hello dear, you know why i'm here already.

We know for a fact that Casper never got to be intimate with anyone before meeting MC and for that precise reason, I'd like to know if you would you kindly give me some thoughts about Casper and MC's first time ?

Will our sweet Reaper be treated gently or will he be manhandled (gender neutral) roughly as payback for his sassy attitude and multiple murder attempts ?

- 🪰

I knew you would be here, 🪰. It was only a matter of time. You got me into this mess and you will dig the whole deeper and deeper. Lucky for you, I love this man and want to get him pregnant. His first time is really dependent on MC. My personal bias, however, is that MC should treat him gently... but keep up the teasing.

Imagine pinning him to the bed, hands on either side of his head as you lean down to kiss him over and over until he's breathless. He never knew that kisses could make it so hard to breath. Everything about this is new to him.

Slipping your knee between his legs without touching him, letting him explore and do what comes naturally as he teaches himself how to hump against you. The soft teasing as he discovers something new; how he can't stop once he starts.

How you can, eventually, figure out how to open up his shirt enough to slip your hand inside and lay your fingers across his chest. You could tease him about how hot his skin is, how much it burns and how heavy his heartbeat is. Press and pinch at his nipples to show him they feel pleasure like any other part of him.

Bully him until he can't take it anymore and makes an absolute mess of his clothing. Tease him about how cute it is that he couldn't wait but that he has to take it all off now. To finally get a look at him without and confirm if every part of him really is as large as he likes to brag.

When he asks you to take yours off to, deny him with a smile. Tell him that tonight is all about teaching him, so to lie back and learn. Everything with the same sass he's come to expect from his sunshine/nightmare. All the while calling his real name and telling him how good he's being.

He'll be putty in your hands by the time you finally get below the belt. He never imagined all the ways that mortals have conceived of to have sex, but he'll get to experience them all soon enough. Maybe your hand and mouth to start. Just enough to teach him the basics so he can get used to asking to be bullied. After all, he is very much the type to need to be picked on. Perhaps you'll even teach him about using his butt by slipping a few fingers in there.

I think the first sexual encounter doesn't involve penetrative sex because he needs to learn to beg for that first. >w> Eventually, he'll learn how to beg for a lot of things.

The first time with penetration? Well, we all know he's going to be the most bottom babygirl ever. With lots of hand holding and telling your little reaper how well he's doing. How pregnant you're going to get him and how many soul babies there will be

It shall be a wonderful night all around. ehehe

#❖ 🪰 anon #love letters ❤️#a date with death #casper a date with death

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veikkoalen · 4 months

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ng+ ending and else analysis. bla blas. headscratches, even

the original ending would have been so much funnier if it was the final one, with logan, alice and alan being dead. imagine stirring shit up for thirteen years just for everything every other person have done to you to go completely in vain. id be chewing bricks out of sheer rage if that was the case

with that said, i love the ng+ ending :) it has control ending vibe, you just get in the weird ass place and get all the new cool powers and maybe lose tim breaker along the way but hey who said he can escape the narrative

now i just need smarter people to spoon feed me the explanation of whatever this is. with each passing second awan makes less and less sense

oh i somewhat get it now, it's these splotches from alan's skull. uhh yay happy birthday scratch :) ? well one of the birthdays

and then it says that the connection with the dark presence was severed only after finishing the return. fuck you. fuck i don't know. it's clear that awan SOMEHOW evolved into the plot of aw2 bc the structure is very similar, but it had so many iterations that i don't even know how to untangle this ball of yarn.

was i actually fucking right when i joked that Love Lobotomy Slash Brain Piercing is the ultimate move against the dark presence. ok but seriously, 'our memories' has to reference alice's movie from awan. the bullet of light might be that very film, bc it killed mr scratch back then. just changed its form

so my final take is that awan plot got transformed so drastically over the course of 11 years that memento movie got turned into the bullet of light, scratch got turned into the demon from supernatural so it doesn't roam free without alan's body in a way of restrictioning it (unlike in awan where it/he was a separate being and was physically confronting alan) and that zane fucked darling after that collaboration video i guess idk man.

btw that grandmaster of the cult of the word who tied sam lake to the chair and killed alex has zane-scratch double voice over, i think that was the collab with scratch he talked about - the very existence of this cult. also, the very mr scratch from the awan can be zane-darling collab? since time is fucked here? ugh.

#alan wake #alan wake 2 spoilers #thomas zane #alice wake #alex casey #casper darling #scratch #mr scratch #love letter to sam lake

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daisychainsandbowties · 1 year

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THE STAR WARS AU [3/10]

word count: 39k

rated: M

summary: Ava is a fugitive Jedi. Beatrice is an Inquisitor. Things go about as well as you’d expect.

chapter excerpt:

‘I haven’t been in space for five years,’ Ava says abruptly. She peers up at the dark bank of clouds squatting over the shipyard, ‘I’ve barely even seen the stars.’ The sentence is raspy, split into pieces by the quickstep of her breaths.

They stand there, both of them, looking up. ‘Do you miss it?’ Mary asks. It isn’t really a question.

‘I love it up there,’ Ava says simply. ‘It’s where I belong.’

The rain touches mostly their boots when they sit down. It slants, pattering over the toes and sliding down towards the laces. Mary made Ava spend half her first paycheck on a pair of sleek waterproof boots made from a durafiber hybrid. They’re scuffed now, but they’ve never let in so much as a drop of water, so Ava figures it was worth it, even if she did spend a whole month eating nothing but unsweetened synth-porridge and algae crackers.

‘Space is beautiful,’ Ava says. ‘It has no boundaries. If you shoot a blaster out there the bolt will keep going until it collides with something. That’s inertia,’ she adds, though everyone knows. ‘Things keep going until something stops them or changes their course. I miss never stopping.’

Another moment slides past before Ava admits, for no real reason, ‘But I miss it mostly because we lived there. We were happy there.’

She is tied up in her own inconsiderate breaths, but Ava is what she is (a death, a legacy) and so she hears Mary’s breath hitch inside her chest. There are no echoes wrapped up in Mary’s jacket; just a body, and so it is easy to keep clinging to it even as the faintest tremor travels through.

‘You’re so warm,’ Ava murmurs, which is nonsense, but it causes Mary’s grip to solidify again. More than nonsense after all. Necessity.

Mary sighs, ‘I had someone too.’ She puts her chin down on the crown of Ava’s head. ‘More than one, I guess, though the other was… she was more like a student; someone I was supposed to look out for.’

Muffled by her chest, Ava dares to ask, ‘What was she like? Your student?’

Ava watches a muscle flutter in Mary’s jaw, but then, almost reluctantly, she dips her head back and grins.

‘Too smart for her own good. Brave.’

‘Mine too,’ Ava says, before she can stop herself.

‘Yeah?’

Red light battling with green and Shannon standing resolute, awash in it. This woman who loved to sway to shitty music and drink in dive-bars on asteroids; this woman who loved to slop stew into their chipped bowls and pull the ship into atmosphere just to buy fresh bread. Her life, which she loved, set down at Ava’s feet.

‘I’m all that’s left of her,’ Ava breathes, and Mary makes a noise in her throat like an aborted cry.

continue on ao3

#warrior nun #avatrice #wn star wars au #ava x beatrice #fic: luminous beings #ava silva #this is a love letter to ava silva the protagonist of all time #casper writes

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candyheartedchy · 6 months

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OOO What Halloween movies do you watch every year then? :DD

Scary Godmother: Halloween Spooktakular and Scary Godmother: The Revenge of Jimmy :D

#and Casper :)#there’s more but those are the main ones #💌 letters 💌#selfshippinglover

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whimizera-me · 2 years

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Lief, lance thunderstorm

we has't cometh to inform thee yond we, all of casper high, art adopting thee as our father. Thee cannot intermit and we already has't the papers sign'd by phantom. Prithee doth not worry we art valorous students. We art all leaving our homes to cometh liveth with thee. we thank thee f'r all the informative daily reports thee giveth us. the benefits: we shall maketh sure yond thee shall not beest concern'd f'r our safety, we shall avoid the fentons, every single monday we shall giveth thee spa treatment an maketh sure thy stress levels wonneth't wend to a hundred, we shall giveth thee thy well deserv'd rest and coffee.

-sincerley, marc and the rest of casper high

#danny phantom #lance thunderstorm #letter #casper high #:D #>:)#>:D #txt text #@lance-thunder-reporting-live

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doctorenoch · 3 months

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I've been making some orders on my desk. It is usually tidy but on some intense days, It may become extremely difficult to find the right document.

I guess I could share some unclassified documents to our guests to let them "know" what we do here at the FBC.

#remedy entertainment #control remedy #remedyverse #roleplay #alan wake 2 #federal bureau of control #control #casper darling #doctor Darling #dead letters

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canineluvz · 4 months

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felix: casper has only been with me for a week but if anything happened to him id kill everyone and then myself

casper: sunshine…

#said immediately after casper moves in with me #.gushing #.love letters: grim

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fairywinklegurl · 2 years

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Can I Keep You? 😊

#random thoughts #calligraphy #hand written letters #manic monday #casper #monday

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daisychainsandbowties · 10 months

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Beatrice watching Lilith thrust into Ava. She has her fingers between her legs until Ava tips her head back and spots the movement. She puts a hand on the shoulder of Lilith to pause her.

<What?>

<Sure, but you love me.>

<For some godforsaken reason.> Lilith stands up and goes to Beatrice. She takes her hand and lifts it to her mouth. Her lips close around Beatrice's fingers.

Lilith’s expression hardly changes as she tastes the cum on Bea’s fingers. Her tongue plays around the knuckles of each one, sucking gently, but her eyes are serious. She lets the spit-slick fingers slide from her mouth.

“Don’t you remember the rules?”

Beatrice nods; she does remember the rules, but that doesn’t mean she likes them. Frowning, she looks up at Lilith, flushing at the words that want to crawl out of her mouth.

The hesitation doesn’t make it past Lilith. Her eyes narrow, “Go on Beatrice, say it.”

“I…” She glares, just a little, but she can feel the wetness on her thighs, seeping into the towel underneath her. She remembers how Ava kissed the inside of her leg as Beatrice lifted her hips obligingly. Lilith wouldn’t allow her to do anything.

“No. You sit, you watch. I'll get to you when I decide you’re ready.”

Now, Lilith smirks at her. “Are you afraid to tell me?”

Beatrice can see the strap jutting between Lilith’s thighs, still wet from Ava’s cunt.

She swallows, holding herself tenuously in check because she could flip their positions, if she wanted. Lilith has her talents but she’s only average at grappling.

She doesn’t do it. That, too, is against the rules.

Beatrice stares up at Lilith, biting her lip almost bloody, but in the end there’s a glint in Lilith’s eye that makes her crumble.

“I want you to fuck me,” she says, mumbles.

“Sorry?”

“I want you to fuck me.” This time it’s louder, almost a shout. She pauses, knowing what Lilith wants to hear, squirms a little under her solid bulk as she contemplates it.

But in the end she wants too much, wants them too much.

“P-please.”

It’s hard to care about the small, desperate tone of her voice as Lilith’s hand goes down between her legs. Beatrice ruts up towards it, turning her head aside.

Lilith grabs her chin, holding it as her fingers move through Bea’s folds, aching slow, gathering her up.

“I will, darling.” Lilith moves in, kisses her, “But first I want you to watch me fuck Ava. I want you to be patient.”

Her fingers curl, teasing at Bea’s entrance. “Can you do that for me?”

Bea nods - wherever her voice has gone to, she can’t find it. With infinite care, Lilith takes her wrists and places Bea’s hands at the neck of the hoodie she’s got on.

She’s wearing that - just that and nothing else. It belongs to Lilith, soft and black, with a shark print across the shoulders. And it smells of her - of woodsmoke and an iron skillet when you leave it on the stove for too long.

“Hold this,” Lilith says, instructs. She kisses the bridge of Bea’s nose, “I want to find them here when I’m done with Ava, and then I promise.” She grins, “We’ll both fuck you.”

Then she’s gone, cool air rushing back to replace her. Bea clenches as though Lilith just pulled out of her.

It's difficult - to sit there, legs akimbo with the memory of Lilith's fingers slipping through her folds, watching as Lilith climbs back onto the bed.

There's no preamble; she pulls Ava back to where she wants her, leaning down to whisper something in her ear that makes Ava whimper softly and turn her head. Her eyes are closed, but fluttering, and more fiercely when Lilith slides her fingers into Ava’s mouth. It makes sense, then; Lilith gathering Bea’s slick onto her fingers.

“Beatrice sends her regards,” Lilith says, and this makes Ava laugh.

But then she’s crying out, high and unseemly, as Lilith guides the tip of her cock back to Ava’s cunt. Her hips move back, trying to press onto it, but Lilith’s hands are steady on Ava’s hips, holding her in check, making her wait.

She starts again, fucking into Ava, picking up a steady rhythm, immune to Ava’s pleas urging her to go faster.

Beatrice feels her body trying to respond, hips twitching. She’s so wet she feels half-mad from it.

She whines, to no avail, watching as Lilith thrusts into Ava from behind. Her arms collapse out from underneath her as Lilith gathers speed. Reaching down, she tugs Ava back onto her elbows and then higher, laying her over her chest.

Her hips move again, and Ava’s hands dart up over her head. She’s desperate for contact, for something to cling to as Lilith fucks her, but Lilith only pauses, takes Ava’s wrists and crosses them over her chest.

“D-don’t stop.” Ava’s legs are trembling, her breaths coming loud and harsh in the quiet of their bedroom. Beatrice can think of almost nothing beyond her own need, but she watches as Lilith guides Ava down onto her cock again and again.

It starts slow, with the low, wet sound of the strap sliding in and out of Ava's cunt, but soon Ava’s crying out and Lilith pushes her back down onto her hands. “Be strong, Aves,” she says, adjusting her angle, moving fast, slow, until Ava's mewling fretfully into the crook of her own elbow, begging.

“Lil, please.”

She’s almost incoherent with it, pushing back onto Lilith’s cock, chasing each thrust. Beatrice sees Lilith’s eyes close for a moment, mouth agape as Ava presses the base of the strap back against her clit, grinning even as she gasps.

Beatrice has her hands fisted in the fabric of her hoodie, at the neck where Lilith placed them. Even as she fucks Ava, her eyes keep flickering back to Beatrice, making certain of her.

And she’s good. She behaves as Lilith thrusts into Ava, their rhythm lost somewhere between them as Ava buries her head in the pillow of her arms and cries out as she comes on Lilith’s cock.

#ava x lilith x beatrice #wn ot3 #i guess i'll start tagging these despite having no idea what's going on #casper writes #anon #living the capital letters life today ig

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mediumsizedpidegon · 9 months

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Another avenue I want to explore in an Amity Park is Weird scenario is all the niche sub-cultures going on.

There is absolutely NO WAY there isn't a thriving goth community in Amity Park. They're holding picnics every full moon. They're holding crafting sessions in their friends' basements. They're adopting ghost animals left and right: eight-legged dogs and blob-cats, skeletal fish and neon bearded dragons.

There's a young man called Raphael who performs live music every week at a dance club with his band: he's got a myriad of shiny piercings, and a phone camera roll full of his rabbits, Morningstar and Salem. Perhaps those ghosts are bad business like the Fentons say, but the club's never felt more alive.

The scene and emo kids are multiplying at a rapid rate. The punks and grunge folks are doing shit with textiles that makes every quilting grandmother in a five mile radius swoop in to pass on their skills. Josie and Betty, old friends who periodically upload photos online of their handmade lace, suddenly gain an influx of young folks who want to learn how to make their own ghoulish patterns.

There's a new group peeling off from the goths that dress like the embodiment of Halloween– all bones, pumpkin orange and lengths of costume jewelry.

The historical costuming community is alive and well in these times, and they fall upon the few ghosts from times past willing to share knowledge like starving wolves. Their minds are full of patterning-math and fabric prices, and their excitement is, quite literally, infectious.

A revolution starts up in food service: a great many restaurants closed or moved to follow the many people who left Amity after the ghosts first came. A pair of brothers open a restaurant that has the best Polish food around: people politely don't comment on how the owners are dressed in clothes a century out of date or how their eyes gleam. Two cat cafes open, one space themed and another with loose definitions of what counts as a "cat." Assorted coffee and tea shops dot the landscape: some serve donuts, some have cupcakes, and others have breakfast wraps, sandwiches or savory hand pies.

People that can't afford to open a restaurant sell food out of their homes, advertised by cardboard signs with phrases like CAKES FOR $10, and BARBEQUE RIBS FOR SALE painted on them in gigantic bright letters. High school students bring in bags of cookies they made the night before and completely sell out of stock before the day is done. One woman's house has no signage and yet is known by word of mouth to be a herbalist, selling tins of homemade tea blends, flowers, assorted plant clippings, and cough drops.

Someone down the street of Casper High sells small batches of eco-friendly soap at a nearby corner store.

During summer time, lemonade stands are everywhere. Some of the lemonade is made with the strange fruits from one of the parks: no one dies, so it's fine.

The Farmer's Market has gotten... intense.

#amity park is weird #danny phantom #dp #amity park #i love wordbuilding :))#i didn't mention it but i think Josie the lacemaker dies only a year after the ghost shit starts happening and becomes a ghost herself.#The Drs. Fentons don't notice :)#however they would notice the Ghost Pets so there's a town-wide conspiracy to keep them in the dark about it/keep them away #sorry Drs. Fenton but Snuggles the Nightmare Ghost Cat is beloved by all. you're not going to catch her #my posts

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taintandviolent · 1 year

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Ouija Board (Tate Langdon x Reader)

Summary: You have a sleepover at your new house, and your friend decides to bring out your Ouija board. But, you’re all teenage girls, so the questions are completely unhinged and un-serious. But, the ghost you’re talking to takes full advantage of the situation. It’s a perfect opportunity, he’s been watching for you weeks. You’re living in his room, afterall.

warnings: 2.9k words -- self insert! female receiving. shameless smut. post-death Tate, ghost sex, cunnilingus, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of ghosts/death.

Ao3 link here! Full fic below the cut! 18+.

tagged: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @twinkiemaximoff @milkovich-misfit {dm/ask to be added!}

It was the third week in the new house.

It was the first time that you actually felt at home. Somehow, you’d managed to make two friends from school, which was equally as shocking to you as it was to your parents. In previous schools, you’d always been on the outskirts, bored stiff at the idea of socialising. When you’d announced to your dad at dinner that you’d actually braved the choppy shores of friendship, he’d nearly choked on his coffee.

“That’s wonderful! Why don’t you invite them over for dinner tonight?” Your mom asked, setting her mug down on the table. You rocked your foot back and forth, mulling over the idea. Previously, your days off from school had been spent unpacking and checking around corners, listening to the creaking and whining of an old house.

Your mother was delighted with its age, commenting on the Tiffany glass and wood — but you felt things that had rotted underneath the wood. Things that whispered when your back was turned, or lingered in the kitchen when you went for a glass of water in the middle of the night.

“Okay, sure.”

So that night, instead of flicking the light switch off in your bathroom and making a beeline for your bedroom, you sat on the floor with Jessica, Angie, a dish of pizza rolls and three glasses of grape soda.

You swallowed the mouthful, and nodded. “No, I’m serious. This house is weird. The first week I was here, in the kitchen… I saw a blonde lady with a hole in the back of her head.”

Jessica snapped the book she was leafing through, and turned. “I bet she was murdered. Don’t you have an Ouija board?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pointing towards the bookcase. “Never used it, though.”

“You’re going to. This is much more fun than going to Town Hall and asking for records on previous owners. Sometimes, they don’t include death certificates — which is obviously what everyone is interested in. That’s the good stuff.” It took all of three minutes for Jessica to set it up. In unison, the three of you delicately placed two fingers on the planchette.

“Okay… so, what do we ask?”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, thinking.

“Is there anyone here with us?” You blurted out.

The planchette skidded to life, circling in the middle of the board. You’d seen it happen in movies, but the actual sensation was an unsettling one. YES. You all exchanged looks, searching for any guilty expressions — but it seemed that none of you had opted to play any tricks. The planchette had moved by itself.

“Did you die here?” Angie asked.

YES.

Jessica gasped. “Ooooh, what if it’s a cute ghost boy like in Casper? Can I keep you?”

Completely enrapt with the idea, she turned her attention to the board, and asked, “Is the spirit in this room male?”

YES.

“Well, that rules out Miss Hole in her Head.” You cleared your throat, focusing on the printed letters. “Have you been the one in my room every night?”

“The one in your room every night?!” Jessica hissed, shooting a pointed look at you. You shrugged apologetically. Angie, who was visibly uneasy with the entire idea, almost fell backwards when the spirit answered.

YES.

“Oh my god!?” Jessica hung her head between her arms, laughing. “It’s probably some old grandpa with a shrimp dick, let’s be real here.”

“Bet. I’ll find out. Do you have a big dick, Mr. Ghost?” You asked.

Again, the planchette zipped to YES. Whoever he was, he didn’t hesitate. Cute. The three of you howled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. Angie desperately tried to redirect the conversation by asking the ghost what it wanted. The planchette spelled out HER.

Jessica lifted her fingers, and Angie screeched at her to return them. “If you don’t say goodbye, the spirit will have an open invitation to come into you!”

“To come!?” Jessica mocked. “To come into me?! Oh, the horror — don’t come into me! Pull out first, Ghost.”

Angie scowled. “You’re so gross.”

As they bickered, you stared at the planchette. It was still active, despite Angie and Jessica’s attention being pulled away. It quivered back and forth, as though it was shaking nervously.

Once Jessica’s wandering mind had been reigned back in, the three of you managed a few more more questions; some about murder, some about occult, and some about other ghosts in the house. Eventually, the sun disappeared from your window, plunging your room into darkness, and your mother called the three of you down to eat. Your friends stayed for about an hour after dinner, and they’d seemingly forgotten about the Ouija board. You hadn’t, though. You leaned your back against the door, the coldness of the glass piercing through your cotton shirt. Your eyes trailed up the staircase, following the bend of the bannister as it curved to the left. Before you made your way upstairs to ready yourself for bed, you craned your neck down the hall, trying to listen for the whispers.

You sat upright in your bed, gasping for air. The book clutched in your hand fell to the floor with a thud. You hadn’t even really remembered falling asleep, but the creak of your floorboards had woken you up. You were met with nothing but the silence and glittering darkness of the room while your eyes adjusted. Eventually, the speckles turned into furniture pieces; your dresser, your mirror, your bookcase… everything seemed in order. The clock on your bedside table incessantly blinked 2:34 AM.

Something skidded across the floor, a spinning blur of tan and black. You yelped, throwing yourself up against your headboard. Your room was silent save for that sound of something hard scooting against a flat surface. You took a deep breath, and crept forward gingerly, wincing each time your mattress creaked.

You gripped the edge of your bed frame tightly, knuckles paling. You peered over. In the middle of the floor where you’d been sitting earlier, the Ouija board was laid out. The planchette swept across the board as it had earlier, but this time with no hands to guide it. It zipped across the board aggressively, as though it was trying to get your attention.

“Hello?”

The triangle paused, then slowly drifted to hello.

Dumbfounded, your mouth opened and closed. You were at a loss — because no horror movie had ever given you any idea how to politely hold a conversation with a spirit outside of the traditional setting.

“Um…. can I… help you? Are you here to possess me?”

Stupid. That was stupid.

Watching as the planchette swept across the board, you read the letters allowed.

“L…A…Y…. Lay? Lay. Okay. B…A…C…K? Lay back?” You waited for further confirmation, but the planchette stayed still for a moment.

It started spinning again, quickly spelling out a final instruction. “Close my eyes. Lay back and close my…. eyes.”

You heaved a sigh, and against your better judgement, you did. You shimmied back underneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest, and waited. The seconds were excruciating, and you were sure some horror movie had to have started like this.

The duvet rustled at the bottom of the bed, and all at once, a gust of cold air hit your feet. The mattress gave to the weight of someone, and you yelped at the feeling of clothed shoulders nestling in between your thighs.

A broad hand ghosted across your stomach, fiddling the scalloped edge of your pyjama shorts. It swooped into your inner thigh, then circled down along your knee. Though the actions were soft, you couldn’t help but feel the knot forming in your stomach. Letting out a soft whimper, you bit your lip, clamping down hard. One hand slid up, caressing the curve of your ribs. You writhed. “You’re driving me insane…” you whispered harshly. Had you really been that touch starved?

Lips hovered over your inner thigh, the hot breath washing over the warm skin. A single finger ran along the inside, trailing further and further up. He slowed as he neared you, wordlessly asking for permission.

“Please,” you begged, doing everything you could not to scoot your hips down into him and embarrass yourself any further. “Please…”

He continued. The pad of his finger floated over you, stroking, teasing until the wetness soaked through the threads. The hands disappeared, but only to return to the sides, where they gripped the waistband, tugging them softly off your hips.

You took a deep breath and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, muffling the shrill whine that tried to escape. Whoever he was, lapped at your cunt like it was a melting ice cream cone, and it didn’t take long for it to start weeping, soaking the green sheets beneath you.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, and your eyelids fluttered, overwhelmed with the sensation. Everything was white and on fire. Your thighs trembled deep within the muscle with every flick of his tongue. Were you really getting eaten out by a ghost? Was that actually happening? You felt silly acknowledging that. His tongue flattened out against your clit and you let out a whine, erasing every other thought. He pressed his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue flicking at the underside of your clit.

“Fffffuck, oh my god.”

You had to know. You swallowed, and tightened your lips into a thin line. You were ready for whatever horrifying visual would meet you. With one final surge of courage, you flipped the covers up, opened your eyes and gazed into the tented darkness. A head of soft, blonde curls bobbed softly between your legs.

“HELLO?!” It wasn’t a greeting, but the boy lifted his head from your cunt. Two dark eyes glimmered at you from beneath the duvet.

“Hey,” he said, chin glistening. “I’m Tate. I used to live here.”

“You’re so…. cute?”

He smiled crookedly, the dimples in his cheek deepening. “Were you expecting Freddy Krueger or something?”

Your head fell back on the pillow like an anvil and a breathy laugh broke your pants. “Yeah, maybe. Jesus Christ…. I don’t know. I’ve never had a ghost between my legs.”

“You liked it. You’re so wet.” He was pleased with himself, you could tell. Reaching one finger up to stroke your opening, he angled his head to watch the way you clenched and squirmed at his touch.

“Was I… were you the one I was talking to with my friends?” He nodded. He shifted his weight, manoeuvring himself up until he was above you, supporting himself with hands on either side of your neck.

“I’ve been watching you since you moved in, Y/N… I didn’t want to scare you away.” He confessed, searching your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks.”

You were scrambling to keep your thoughts in one manageable bundle. On one hand, this scenario was insane and you were sick to be enjoying it. On the other… sure, he was dead, but he was easily one of the cutest boys you’d ever seen and the way he wanted you was intoxicating. His dark eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. You craned your neck up to meet him, pressing into his plush, pink lips.

You’d never been one of those boy crazy teenagers, but you understood the cathartic release that sex brought. It was carnal and natural. You’d only ever slept with one other person, so the hunger was never sated, and you were left quietly fingering yourself after your parents fell asleep. Every time you’d had the chance to have made out with someone though, you tasted them. Deeply. Kissing someone released their scent, the one that only intimate partners got. And none of them had ever been as heady and addictive as Tate was. You tilted your head to get further into his waiting mouth, swirling your tongue with his. You whimpered, sending a moan down his throat.

You reached under, sliding your hands down his stomach. The tiniest trail of hair guided you to the waistband of his jeans, where you made quick work of the buttons. Breaking the kiss only to help with scooting his jeans over the curve of his ass, Tate quickly returned his lips against yours, his tongue moving past your lips eagerly.

Although you were going in blind, it wasn’t difficult to find his cock. Not only did it take up most of the space between you two, but it was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You pressed your hand against him, getting an idea for the length.

“Huh. So, you weren’t lying about that.” Tate’s hips ground against your palm in response. You reached up, flipping the elastic down so you could slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along the soft tip. Your palm was immediately slick with his precum; the thick fluid coated the soft skin. You used your thumb to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges. He groaned, burying his face into your neck.

“I didn’t lie about anything you asked me.”

You began stroking him underneath the sheets in slow, full movements and Tate’s breathing hitched, hips bucking forward involuntarily. You sped up, feeling warm droplets dribble onto your exposed tummy. Your thumb pressed into the squishy flesh of his head, not expecting the reaction that followed.

“Mm-uh—please. Please, I want you. Please.” He was begging, whining, and his big brown eyes were filled with a pathetic yearning that made your walls soak even further.

“So do it.”

He wasted no time in completing your demand. He sat up, the covers falling off his back.Tate gripped himself, giving his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up, pressing his hot, leaking tip into your entrance. Snatching the opportunity from him, you bucked your hips up to his, forcing his cock inside. You clenched around him hungrily and Tate let out a throaty whine as he pushed the remaining length into you.

He started out slow, taking his time as he slid in and out of you, but the slick pull of your walls each time he slid out unravelled his concentration. Each thrust seemed a little more desperate than the last, his balls slapping against you, splashing the mixture of his spit and your cum against your inner thighs. Bottoming out inside of you, he arched his neck backwards, letting it hang heavy. “Are you a virgin?”

“Wha — no.” You breathed, adjusting your head on the pillow to look at him. Odd question to ask in the middle of the deed. “Why?”

Tate swallowed, and between pants, said, “Because…. you’re so wet.” He dropped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His cock was still inside, the girth hitting you at a new angle, and the fullness made your stomach clench.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded fervidly, and slithered your hands underneath his sweat-soaked shirt until it gathered. Tate lifted his arms, and allowed you to slip the shirt over them. You tossed it towards the edge of the bed, and raked your nails along his naked chest.

“Please.” It was your turn to beg. Tate backed his hips out, pulling himself from your warmth. “I want it.”

He dropped back down to his hands, getting a tight grip on the mattress behind you. His lips met yours again, hungrily. It provided only a momentary distraction, because the second that Tate started pounding into you, you could focus on nothing else — except suppressing your aroused screams. He scooted closer to you on the bed, angling himself to get deeper.

He was hitting every spot he could, and your breaths quickened as he fucked you closer to the edge. You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He had just started, and you were already about to lose it.

“Are you gonna’ cum? Huh?” Tate asked, now struggling to keep his rhythm. If you were close, he seemed to be closer — and you didn’t feel so bad. Tate reached down, pulling himself out to slide the tip of his cock over your clit a few times before stuffing it back in. Your lips parted in a soundless scream as you felt the unmistakable warmth filling you, the quivering in your legs, and the desperate, spasming arch of your back.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tate chanted, feeling your orgasm as it gripped him in a wet, pulsing chokehold. “Fuck!”

As he spilled into you, Tate fell atop of your body, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. His hips were on autopilot, erratically bucking with each gush. You winced, on the verge of overstimulation. Gradually, his thrusts slowed.

He flopped over on the side of you, one hand stroking the outside of your thigh delicately. He was gazing at you dreamily when you turned to face him.

“So, do I have to bring out the Ouija board each time I want to see you?”

Tate propped his head up on his hand. “You want to see me again?”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, a taunting smile curling around your swollen lips. “Uhhh… yeah.”

“I can be here every night if you want.” He purred.

“Haven’t you been anyway? Or did you lie about that?”

Tate’s brows pulled upwards, looking hurt. “I told you — I didn’t lie about anything! I’d never lie to you!”

“Okay, shh —“ You silenced him with your lips. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

For the first time since you’d moved in, you weren’t afraid of ghosts as you walked to the bathroom. You were just afraid that the one in your bedroom would be gone when you got back.

He wasn’t, though.

#Tate Langdon #American Horror Story #ahs murder house #tate langdon smut #ahs smut #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x yn #myfics #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction

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