#halloween fanfic
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Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost
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summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.
word count: 4.0k
warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss
note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!
banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!
“I want to know everything.”
The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen.
There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him.
“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light.
You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed.
The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth.
“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”
Aemond is silent for a moment.
“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”
Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens.
And Aemond tells you everything.
“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”
“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”
Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife.
Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded.
“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”
A chill runs through you at the memory.
“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.
The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.
“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer.
“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.
You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.
“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”
“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.
“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.
“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”
“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory.
Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.
“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”
You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”
Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.
“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.
You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”
You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort.
Jaehaera hates thunderstorms.
This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.
The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.
This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color.
“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”
So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.
Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her.
“I have a story,” Helaena says.
It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin.
“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”
“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.
“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”
You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed.
“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”
“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”
“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.
“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”
Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.
“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”
A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.
“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”
Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”
“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”
“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”
“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.
You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat.
“Mhmm,” Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.
He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye.
“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.
“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”
“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”
“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”
Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.
“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him.
Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.
His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip.
“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”
His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.
“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”
You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.
You.
You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you.
You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds.
Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams.
You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.
Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs.
“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.
The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.
When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.
There’s that shadow again.
“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.
Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study.
Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it.
Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?
“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.
“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”
“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.
Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves.
“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.
“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”
His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him.
You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe.
“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.
Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.
“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.
You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together.
“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones.
Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours.
Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.
You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy.
That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own.
It’s bold, it’s lewd.
It’s not you.
Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.
“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.
Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.
“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants.
Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist.
“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you.
Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants.
“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.
Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment.
Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.
“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”
“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”
She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him.
“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”
“You have little Jaehaera-”
“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”
“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”
She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.
“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”
“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.
“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”
“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder.
Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast.
“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”
“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”
“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.
“You know that isn’t true--”
“I don’t mind sharing--”
“You’re dead, Alys.”
She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears.
“Release her-”
“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”
“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”
“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”
Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.
“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”
The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?
“Aem-”
“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed.
You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.
“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.
“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead.
You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.
“The heart….” you murmur.
“What?”
“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”
Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed.
“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.
“It was just Alys,” he assures you.
You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg.
“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”
“Yes.”
“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”
“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”
You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book.
“I’m sorry-”
“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”
Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off.
“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”
Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again.
But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.
“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”
“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”
You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.
“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck.
Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth.
Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes.
“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly.
He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings.
“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”
“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”
You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.
“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”
“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off.
“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”
You force a small smile.
“No ghosts?” you ask.
Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.
“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”
“What about Helaena? And the children…”
“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”
“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.
“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.
You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.
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#aemond x reader#modern!aemond#modern!aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fic#halloween fic#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#modern au#halloween au#aemond targaryen#aemond series#hotd series#fanfic series#halloween fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut
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Being with Victor Van Dort
₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊
warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, no cursing, sweet victor, some implied sexual headcanons but it's not a sexual movie i just LOVE victor so bad ugh i need him, kaicubus british accent.
pairing ✩° : victor van dort x mostly gn!reader
authors note ✩° : nothing is done about him so as usual, i'm stepping up to the plate. tall skinny emo boy IM COMING FOR YOU. why do i want to do more? thinks. i'm trying to get my halloween fics out guys i promise...
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To say Victor would do anything for you in and outside of his power is such an understatement. He has such little power in what he does compared to other people, especially suitable bachelors, but he tries so hard with what he has.
You two meet because your parents need you two to be wed, so of course, he's a stranger. A very kind, and understanding stranger who at times feels like he's so brittle around you he'll break at any second.
He bumps into you? Victor scurries away. You look at him? Victor slams himself into the wall in the process. He kind of loses composure around you.
When he warms up to you eventually, Victor actually talks about his interests a lot. You find out he's an excellent musician, talented in piano and violin, an exceptional artist, and he's an avid reader who enjoys dark poetry.
He's still very insecure about the idea of you loving him or at least liking him, but he'll never bother you with questions because he doesn't want to seem needy (but he is so needy). If his insecurities do get the best of him, Victor will ask gently, "Do you actually like me? If not, I get it. I'm not rich nor strong enough to support and provide for us, I just want to be sure." Of course, you answer him honestly and he's over the moon when you tell him you actually do love him.
Victor notices things about you that no one else would notice, like the amount of moles you have on your left arm, if you prefer crowded areas or not, and if you cut your hair just a few inches to the point where it's not even that noticeable.
Speaking of, if you're ever at a ball or a place where there's a lot of people and you're not comfortable with crowds, Victor will take you away to a secluded area and calm you down from there.
He is overly apologetic. Sometimes it gets slightly annoying with how much he does it, but you never react negatively and always reassure him. Victor will apologize even if you're the one who caused something, blaming it all on himself so you don't feel bad at all.
Victor's love language is surely words of affirmation as he loves to give you endearing complements but also he feels good receiving them. He doesn't expect anything, because that's the least of your worries he thinks, but even so much as a simple flick of his hair and saying how nice it looks that day drives him absolutely mad.
However, when he compliments you, he's never short of charming. Victor catches you off guard sometimes when he reminds you how 'ravishing you look' or 'how you put the stars to shame with your glittering smile.' Usually he draws parallels with you and the stars, moon, sun, or flowers. He always makes you feel seen.
Naturally, as your husband, Victor is protective over you. He's never one to start a fight over a worthless scum trying to flirt with you, but he's not shy to let his presence be known and to grab you by the waist into his thin frame.
Calls you my love, darling, my beloved, and gorgeous.
Loves receiving. Victor will never ask anything of you, sure, but he won't deny it when it happens. He loves being kissed first, he loves being pulled down to kiss you, he loves being marked in hickeys especially on his collar bone, all of that.
One very specific thing is that Victor really enjoys dressing you and putting your makeup on. There's just something about the silent intimacy of sliding on your dress, gliding the thin fabric of tights on, tightening your corset, and delicately lining your lips with a dark, rose red lipstick that he loves so much. Even if he can't do the whole outfit, you'll still allow him to do your makeup or brush your hair.
Victor also likes things a very specific way. Not that he's controlling, he's far from it, but little things like overlined or underlined lipstick makes him fidgety. He'll swipe his thumb over your cupid's bow if that's the case and pretend like nothing happened.
He writes long, lengthy love letters. Sometimes explicit ones if he isn't there with you. He's uh, good at writing!
Victor shivers a lot. Take that as you will.
Loves painting portraits of you.
#kaicubus#corpse bride#corpse bride victor#victor corpse bride#victor van dort#tim burton#corpse bride fanfiction#corpse bride fic#corpse bride preferences#victor van dort x reader#victor van dort x you#victor van dort x y/n#preferences#headcanons#victor van dort headcanons#halloween#halloween fanfic#halloween writing#tim burton film
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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
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“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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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I can't help falling in love with you
serial killer!Max Verstappen x reader || 18+
Summary: Moving back to your childhood house was never in your plans, but after your parents' death you couldn't let go of it. After moving in and meeting your new neighbor everything seemed to fall apart, but you're too oblivious to notice the obvious.
Warnings/Tags: 18+, GORE (gutting), mentions of smut, kidnapping, restraining, torture, violance, female reader, creepy/jealous/yandere Max
A/N: It's Halloween y'all! So I decided to write a Halloween horror story :)) It's the first time I wrote something like this but I feel like it's good. And I've been writing it for past 2 weeks and can't seem to finish so there will be a part 2 on Sunday 😭 + sorry for typos 😬
Wordcount: 4364
P2
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Moving back to your childhood house was never in your plans. But there you were, standing in front of the small, falling appart house taking a deep breath and opening the creeking door. The noise was so loud you could bet the whole street heard it.
After one last breath you slowly walked in. The inside looked just as you remembered, but old, dirty and dusty. Family photos hanged where they always did – you were surprised your parents haven’t taken them down after you left – an old bouquet of dead flowers stood on the welcoming console – you already planned on keepping them as you loved collecting dried flowers.
Walking further in you noticed your old drawings still hanged on the fridge door – neither of them dirty or ripped – as well as all your magnets from various family trips. In the living room your baby blanket layed on the sofa.
It surprised you, everything as for right now showed that your parents never forgot about you even though you didn’t have any contact. You wondered if your room looked the same as you left it, and it did. You always thought your parents would change it into a home gym or something like that but it was left untouched, only your favourite teddy bear was missing.
Roaming the house further you’ve found it in your parents’ bedroom on the nightstand. Tears started to fill your eyes, you were so cruel for them for the past few years and they never forgot about you, even tried to have you as close as they could even though you were far, far away. Warm hands creeping around your waist shook you out of your trance.
“Hey, it’s okay...”
Your boyfriend George whispered and placed a kiss on top of your head before spinning you around and pressing against his chest into a tight hug. A few tears fell down your cheeks, wetting George’s shirt but he didn’t mind. You were greatful you had him, especially in such hard times.
After you calmed down the two of you went back downstairs to bring inside your suitcases and boxes with stuff. A young man, new neighboor, caught your eye when you left.
He was mowing the grass, or rather struggling with turning on his old lawnmower, and he noticed you too. He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his neck while a soft blush appeared on his face. You chuckled a little and asked George to come over with you and offer help.
The man agreed with a sigh and soon you were standing in front of your neighbours house. It was way bigger and prietter than yours, which made you wonder and imagine what it looked like inside. It looked like a mansion outside so you thought it had to look so bougey inside too.
“Hi, we’re your new neighbours. Well... kind of... I lived here as a kid”
You explained quickly with a sweet smile.
“I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend George, can we help you?”
You introduced yourself and George before offering help which the man reluctantly agreed to.
“I’m Max, nice meeting you. And I’m sorry for the problem... I really need to buy a new lawnmower but don’t really have time...”
Max sighed and smiled awkwardly at you while George tried to turn on the machine and you chatted with Max. He moved in a few years ago so he might have known your parents.
He admitted he was an owner of quite a big company, that was why he lived in such a luxury but you wondered why he opted for a small house in the suburbs instead of a flat in the middle of the town. He on the other hand, found out that you were a daughter of his late neighbours.
“They were good people”
He said, but you knew better. Max watched you closely as you talked, watched how your dimples showed when you smiled, how your ginger hair shined in the sun, how you fiddled with your fingers as if you were anxious but your demeanor said otherwise. Just in those few minutes the man was able to memorise your behaviour and ticks.
After a few tries and some digging in the engine, your boyfriend finally turned the machine on.
“There you go buddy”
He smiled kindly.
"Now excuse us, we gotta head back to unpacking”
He politely excused yourselves before leaving.
“I wish I could help but knowing my luck if I turn this shit off right now I won’t be able to turn it back on later. But! Maybe you could come over and eat supper with me and my friend? Will 6pm be okay?”
“Oh um... I-I'm not sure... We don’t want to be a burden...”
“Oh you wouldn’t, believe me. Daniel loves meeting new people and I could pay off the debt... Sooo? “
"I’ll have to ask George but I’m sure he’ll agree”
“Great! Then see ya later, good luck!”
“Good luck to you too!”
You waved goodbye before rushing off to help George with a heavy box. He insisted on carrying it in by himself, but you knew better to not let him or he’d break something, again...
༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃
By the time the evening came you were done cleaning almost the whole house and unpacking just the most necessary things. George wasn’t keen on eating supper with the newly met neighbour and his friend but you’ve managed to convince him with a fun time afterwards. It always worked.
You changed from your house clothes to something more suitable but still comfortable for a meeting and left dragging your boyfriend behind yourself. You didn’t even manage to knock or ring the doorbell when a tall, dark haired man opened the door and let you in.
"I’m Daniel. You’re new neighbours right?”
He greeted eagerly, shaking your hands like crazy. The man was full of energy which terriffied you a little, but it quickly changed further into the night.
“Daniel don’t scare them!”
Max’s voice rumbled in the kitchen .
“Come in, don’t be scared. He’s just excited! "
Walking into the kitchen you could finally take a good look at the interior. It was just how you imagined it to. Modern with a hint of vintage, light walls, golden chandelier hanging above the glass table and fully equipped and up to date kitchen – which you could only dream about. It was beautiful.
You sat down by the table after George pulled a chair for you, as he always would. You’d never thought you’ll find yourself a true gentleman but there he was, all yours. Inhaling the scent of the dish made you remember about saturdays at home.
Your mom used to always make lasagna on saturdays, it was so delicious, you remembered it’s taste even now when you haven’t eaten it for years – and you won’t anymore. Max sitting in front of you with a huge smile made you realize the table was fully set and Daniel and George already started to eat.
“Something wrong?”
The man asked quietly to which you responded with a slight shake of your head and a smile, before trying the food. It was delicious, so delicious you couldn’t believe the blonde made it.
„Homemade or ordered? "
Asking bluntly you felt George's elbow poke your side. It wasn't really polite from you but Max didn’t care.
„Homemade. I know it tastes too good, but I tried my best and it paid off”
The man admitted. He wasn’t affected badly by your question, instead responded with a warm smile that didn’t seem to ever fall. Your honesty impressed while your beauty amazed him.
The supper was enjoyable. Daniel turned out to be a really sweet guy, just a little overjoyed, considering the fact he scared you a tad at first.
Following the meal came board games and wine, even though George wasn’t happy to compete with Max against you and Daniel, but you kind of addpoted the tall man. He was too cute to ignore, making your boyfriend hella jelous, but you were going to recompensate him that later anyway.
The two of you won every round of whatever game, which didn’t please Max. You could see it. You could see the way the vain on his forehead throbbed while he struggled with George, how his hands curled in fists every time Daniel laughed at him, but he tried not to explode as best as he could.
You felt bad for the blonde. Daniel later explained that he was a bad looser but worked on it and that such session was good for him. It made you feel relieved at least a little bit.
When the night started to fall and more and more yawns escaped your lips George decided that it was time to leave. You reluctanlty got up and gave Daniel a huge goodbye hug before shaking Max’s hand and leaving the mansion with George’s arm wrapped around your waist.
When you made it to your new bedroom – which was an old guest room – you insisted on pleasing your boyfriend just as you promised, even though he said you didn’t have to as he knew you were tired. But you were too stubborn and soon George layed underneeth you half naked as you undressed yourself, his hands roaming your body.
Sitting up the man wrapped them around your waist pulling you closer while his lips planted soft kissed along your jaw then down your torso. You couldn’t bother to close the curtains, no one could see you anyway, especially in the dim light of your small nightstand lamp.
But a feeling of someone watching you was constantly appearing in the back of your head.
After you, left also Daniel, leaving Max alone in his huge house - as always. The man didn’t feel alone in it, not anymore knowing that a beautiful and georgous woman like you lived just across the street.
Instead of cleaning the mess Max made his way upstairs to his master bedroom. Not turning on the light but instead opening the curtains letting the moonlight in, the man sat on his bed watching every your move, trying to remember every detail about your body and how it moved.
He wished he was the one laying on the bed, surveying your body, touching your soft, pale skin as you undressed, instead of your stupid boyfriend.
The blonde couldn’t believe someone like George was able to pull you, such a sweet and mesmerizing creature. Have you not noticed his humongous, terrifying eyes staring into your soul? It was quite long since someone caught Max’s eye the way you did. All of them were awlays already taken, but not for long...
༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃
A few months passed since you moved back to your childhood house. Those few months were very calm and enjoying although you always had a feeling someone watched you. Watched your every step, every move, everything you did. Also some of your things started to disappear, or maybe it was just your amazing ability to loose them.
All the free time you had, you used to bring the building back to life. It looked way better than before. Fresh, pastel yellow paint graced the outdoors walls, pots filled with red flowers hanged from the ceiling on the porch, a white, wooden swing sat there too.
The only thing you still had to work on was the lawn, but you needed George’s help who worked longer hours than you, coming back home late in the evening, drained from life and any energy.
You told him multiple times to change the job as the money wasn’t adequate to working hours nor the amount of things he did, but he refused saying he won't be able to find a better one.
Sometimes you wondered if he enjoyed the work and exhaustement, that's why he refused to leave. Him not having a job wouldn't have changed much anyway, you've earned more than him anyway and your salary alone was able to cover all the expenses.
Max saw that too. He noticed how you struggled alone with the lawn, just to quickly give up and go back inside, how you did all the chores around the house by yourself which clearly pissed you off.
He noticed that your boyfriend came back home late, not able to please your needs or at least talk with you. If it was him on George's place he wouldn’t care if he was tired or not, instead being all over you the moment he came back home, doing everything you needed him to and more, talking with you about everything and nothing.
He couldn’t let you suffer because of him. No... He had to do something about that.
One night George didn’t come back home at all, which made you worry. He could either be cheating on you or something happened, there was no other option.
To addition to your worry he didn’t answer your calls nor texted back. It was midnight when you heard a car pulling up, you shot up from the couch and run up to the window just to be disappointed immediately.
It was just Max coming back from work. It was weird though, he never came back so late. You sighed and decided to call it a day and try to contact your boyfriend the next day. But he didn’t answer then either, nor the next day.
You finally decided to go to the police station and report his missing. They took it immediately and they assured you they’d try their best to find him. But they didn’t succeed...
༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃
That day George was back home way before you, wanting to surprise you with a dinner he was about to make, then try to clean the house as much as he could.
He walked into the house, not bothering to lock the door behind himself, then stepped into the kitchen and dropped the bags full of ingredients onto the kitchen counter.
After changing into home clothes, George started to prepare everything needed for the spaghetti, when he felt a huge pain in the back of his head and his vision went black.
The man woke up after a few hours, to the sound of classical music and sharpening knives. He tried rubbing his head, but was restrained, tied to a chair in a dark basement.
„You finally woke up Georgie”
Russell heard a voice say, but was unable to tell who the person standing in front of him was, because of the darkness. The lamp hanging above his head barely lightened him, not reaching far into the room. The man walked up to George and put his sharp knife under his chin, making him look up.
„You thought one dinner would be able to recompensate Y/N all the time she has to spent to keep the house in a good condition?... "
A sharp laugh vibrated through the room, until it suddenly stopped and the knife pressed against George's neck.
„You're funny "
The strange man stepped closer to George, the light finally hitting his face. Max smiled maniacally, he was going to have whole lotta fun...
Russell’s head hit the metal table, almost knocking him out before Max splashed cold water onto his face.
„Uh, uh, uh. No sleepin, we haven’t even started "
The man strapped him down then approached a trolley, his fingers running through the various torture tools he owned.
„What should I use first... "
Max wondered out loud while George tried to release himself, without success.
„Wha-what do you even want from me?! What have I done?! "
He screamed into the dutch'es face after he turned around, holding a pair of scissors then cutting George’s sweater in half.
„Oh you know well what you've done. If you were smart enough, you'd notice I even said it”
The man could feel Max's cold finger run down his chest to his abs. He picked back his knife and pressed it to George’s stomach, pushing it slowly in and listening how the man screamed in pain.
When the knife was deep enough, he made a sharp move, opening him up and revealing his intestinal tract.
„Looked at these beauties... "
Max peaked inside, opening the wound more and more while Russel choked on his tears. He breathed heavily, which was hard because of the toument, fear spreading through his whole body.
„Is this really... J-just about me... Not having time?... "
He managed to choke out while looking down his body, the sight made him sick. Max's fingertips were already covered in blood, from touching the intestines, his lips spread in a horrific smile, eyes shining in awe at the sight.
„I knew... I knew there was something wrong with you... You better stay... Stay away from her! "
He tried to fight, but the slightest move turned into an unbearable agony.
„Well... It's not like you’re gonna do anything about this lover boy. Not anymore at least... "
Max shrugged and flashed George his white teeth then his hand dipped inside his stomach to soon pull out the large intestine. Russell cried out in pain, closing his eyes which angried Verstappen.
Throwing the organ to the ground he opened his eyes with force. He clipped his eyelids pulling them softly out so his humongous, blue eyes could stay open the whole time and watch the terror.
„You're gonna watch how I ruin you, either you like it or not... "
The man whispered into George’s ear, his hot breath made a shiver run down his spine, their eyes locked. Max's hand traveled back to the wound, slowly creeping inside.
„I want you to say it... Say sorry for your absence... "
He whispered once again before straightening up and watching George from above. He studied his face, how his nose scrunched at the pain, eyes desperately trying to close and chest rising and falling rapidly.
He liked that sight. No. He loved it. He loved to cause him pain, thinking it was fair and well deserved. The man pulled out his small intestine, inch by inch, waiting for the apology.
„I-I'm sorry okay... I-I tried... I tried... I should have... I should have changed the fucking job god!... I fucked... I know I did... But it's not a reason to kill me you psycho!”
With one sharp pull his small intestine was out and on the ground, blood splattered everywhere, some sticking to Max's face. In that moment he looked like a true serial killer and George started to fear about you.
„That's the only thing I wanted to hear. Now... See you on the other side”
With that words Max reached for George’s heart pulling it out with one go and finally killing the man. He then stripped him off the meat and the skin from the face, hanging the later made mask obove his desk.
„Well... It surely was fun... "
„Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you... „
༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃
It was a month since you last saw him. The first few weeks you cried yourself to sleep which hurt Max. It hurt him to look at you in that miserable state, crying over a man that didn’t even deserve you.
Weirdly, he was the only person able to fully comfort you. He invited you over for dinner or supper every day or visited you to join eating so you wouldn’t be alone, he helped you around the house – even hired a maid in the first weeks to help you.
The man was so sweet and caring, he made you forget about George by the time Christmas came. He then thought he finally had a chance with you until you appeared on his porch, holding a hand of some strange man, introducing him as your new boyfriend.
“Max, this is my new boyfriend, Sergio. Sergio, Max is my neighbour – obviously – and my close friend”
You smiled up at both men as they shook each other’s hands, Max gripping Checo’s tightly giving him a death glare. Max understood you tried to finally move on and live a normal life, but why couldn’t you move on to him?
After all those things he had done for you, all the nights he’s spent by your side, all the money he’s spent on you, you chose some stranger over him?
Blood boiled in his vains thinking about it and watched your new boyfriend hand him a Christmas gift. He accepted it only because of you, smiling sweetly when you were leaving.
‘’I don’t think he likes me...’’
Sergio whispered as you walked away but you just shook your head with a chuckle.
Checo was just as sweet as George. You tried not to compare them together but it was too hard. You've noticed they were really similar, but Checo had way more time for you than George did.
You've also noticed the change in Max's behaviour, it wasn’t anything big but after a year of your friendship you knew when something was wrong, you just couldn’t figure out what. It started when he met Sergio and from then on he was so cold towards him, not like towards George.
The vain on his forehead was about to pop every time he saw you two together, everytime you smiled because of the Mexican, every time you laughed because of him.
„Was he jealous? "
You wondered but pushed that thought aside. He couldn’t, he was your friend after all.
Sergio was a dream boyfriend, a knight on a white horse. He helped you around the house, didn’t rush your relationship letting you get used to him before doing something and most importantly he truly listened to you and didn’t ignore even the stupidest of your fears or needs, not like George.
But the dream quickly fell appart when you let down your walls and the two of you got too comfortable around each other. He moved in with you without even asking, as his landlord kicked him out.
You couldn’t understand why thought. He had a well paid job yet couldn’t affort a low budget apartment? Well, turned out he lost it some time ago and haven’t told you about it.
From that time he stayed home all the time, doing shit, occasionally leaving in the evening for a few hours. He was really stressed and frustrated, sometimes rising his voice at you when you did something wrong, but then quickly apologising and offering a massage to comfort you.
But that aslo passed rather quickly and with time his shouting became a daily thing. One day he hit you. A juicy slap across your face, leaving a red mark.
You were fighting over his shouting again but this time he didn’t hold back. That’s when you found out how he really was.
Brutal, disregarding your opinion, caring only about sex and a ‘maid’, in one word – despot. Yet he was so sweet at the beginning. You felt fooled...
You were too scared to tell anyone, so scared the man would hurt you even more and you had enough of bruises and cuts you tried so good to cover.
No one seemed to notice it, beside Max. He didn’t want to mention them though, as he figured you wouldn’t like to talk about it.
Every time he invited you over for dinner you either didn’t come because Sergio didn’t let you, or came just for a few minutes before the man burst in and dragged you back home angrily.
Max couldn’t understand why you just didn’t kick him out and leave him. Only two months after Checo started to be aggressive he disappeared. You felt so good when he didn’t come back home for a few days straight and quickly threw away all his stuff. You finally felt free...
༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃
Kidnapping Sergio was the easiest thing ever. The man wandered through the two , eventually stopping by one if the alleys and walking in. He lit a cigarette and watched the stary sky while waiting for a dealer. Soon a car parked in front of the alley, a hooded man walked out making his way towards Checo.
„Here”
He handed him the money and stretched his other hand waiting for stranger to give him the drugs. The man quickly took the money then tazed Checo, getting him unconscious.
Slowly opening his eye, Sergio grunted in pain. His body was stiff, half naked, laying on cold metal. The man looked around, the only thing he was able to see was himself, but he could hear footsteps from behind. Trying to roll his head up, he noticed his hands tied to some machine and a back of a man, quietly humming an Elvis song.
„Well... Well... Well... Look who has finally woken up... "
The Dutch smiled from ear to ear, making his way over to Perez.
„Verstappen?! I knew there was something wrong with you! You better let me go or-"
„Or what? "
The blonde cut in.
„It's not like you're gonna do something about this. You can’t afterall... Besides... You deserve it”
Max hissed turning on the machine that bit by bit started to stretch Sergio's body. The Mexican screamed, wiggling and trying to break free but was tied too hard, only giving himself more pain.
„You son of a bitch! You're a fucking monster! "
He shouted and spat on Max's face. The Dutch frowned and only turned up the speed slightly, after wiping his face.
„I am a monster? Maybe tell it to Y/N, after all... You were the key hurting her. Not me... Now. You better apologize”
He hissed and increased it even more, the screams and noises of breaking bones and muscles filled his ears, they sounded like honey. But Sergio wasn’t going to apologize. Nothing was going to make him to apologize for what he'd done. He'd rather die than say it.
„Fine... "
Max sighed unsatisfied finally raising the pace to maximum. Sergio’s body teared in half, blood splattered everywhere making the man groan in pleasure and lick the blood off his lips.
"Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you? "
#f1#halloween#f1 fanfiction#fanfiction#18+ fanfic#smut#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen fanfic#cw: gore#violance#halloween story#halloween fanfic#horror#george russell#george russel x reader#checo perez#checo perez x reader#fem reader#female reader
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞
Synopsis: Steve Rogers was looking forward to Halloween. Not because of the costumes, the tricking and the treating, or Tony’s meticulous party planning—he was looking forward to spending some quality time with his Y/N. But a cozy night in with pumpkin spice lattes and that Halloween Town movie he needed to catch up on was soon abandoned when the mysterious house on Easton Avenue called for his attention.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Civilian!Reader
Genre: SMUT | Fluff | Some scary stuff
Warnings: Unprotected sex, P in the V, oral sex, temperature play, sex toys, kegel balls, blindfolds, bondage, pussy slapping, object insertion, deepthroating, shoe humping, degradation, dacryphilia, sex tapes, mirror sex, breast fucking, orgasm denial, edging, squirting, overstimulation, should I go on? It’s shameful sex, basically.
Word Count: 12K
A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, FOLKS! This is my very first time doing a kinktober special, but I really wanted to submit an entry to @jtargaryen18's Halloween Special! So, I hope you all like this. And forgive me, because I just finished it, and didn't triple-check for typos. Enjoy 🧡🎃
All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist
𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 of red surged from within the fifth house on Easton Avenue, sending a chaotic ripple across the entire neighborhood. At least, that’s how you pictured it in your head. That house had a vicious and ominous aura, topped with a polarizing effect that both dared you to come closer and urged you to stay away.
Something about that house wasn’t right ever since its residents claimed it a week ago. It had been a solid year since you moved to Brooklyn to live with Steve, and as far as you knew, that old and frail house had been vacant for the better half of seven years. Yet now, all so suddenly, someone decided it was the most miraculous idea in the world to step through the broken fence and make do with whatever crumbs the beaten structure had to offer—with little regard or effort at fixing it.
“What in the name of God are you doing?”
Lost in the abstract aura of your neighbor’s house, Steve had crept up on you, and you were none the wiser. You whipped your head to the back, hands firmly clutching the binoculars. It was not a sound decision on your behalf because Steve’s majestic blue-green eyes were now tenfold bigger, almost as if they were about to devour you whole.
You shrieked, fingers still gripping the binoculars for reasons unknown. Your startled expression made Steve stiffen and look around.
“Why are you screaming?” he asked, taking the binoculars away from your face. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when he caught the letter “A” engraved on the side. “Did you take these from my mission bag, Y/N?”
You sheepishly gazed up at him, giving him your best pout. Steve didn’t particularly mind if you rummaged through his things, but the reason you lived on Easton Avenue and not at the Avengers Compound was that he tried to keep you away from his “alter ego,” as you liked to call it. So, snooping through his mission bag might have contradicted the boundaries you had previously set.
“I was birdwatching,” you blurted out without a second thought.
Steve regarded you skeptically. “Birdwatching,” he repeated, his tone heavy with doubt.
“Yes. This time of the year brings very colorful birds.”
He didn’t respond, only subtly arching an eyebrow. Placing the binoculars on the nearby couch, his slender and long fingers pushed the curtain aside—enough for him to peek out the window. And because Steven Grant Rogers was God’s perfect human creation, he didn’t need even a monocle to catch sight of the fifth townhouse down your street.
“Yeah, you’re right. That ashen plumage does splendidly reflect the beauty of this season.”
“At least you are a gentleman enough to feign belief,” you remarked, indignantly rolling your eyes.
Knowing what was going to follow, you picked up the binoculars and headed to your shared bedroom. But Steve was right behind you with the same retort he used when he caught you so much as thinking about that house. “Dove, you need to stop investing so much energy into that house. There��s nothing wrong about it.”
“Everything is wrong about it, Steve!” you defended, picking up his bag from the closet and putting the binoculars back. “It’s creepy and morbid, and I can’t believe anyone would willingly choose to settle in it.”
“It’s a nice house. I’m sure, with some attention, anyone would want to settle in it.”
“Well, that’s the thing! Why aren’t the new owners doing anything about it? It’s sitting there like the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The only missing part is the werewolf.”
Steve looked somewhat perplexed and unconvinced. His lips parted then closed until he was ready to speak again. “Werewolves don’t exist.” Of course, he’d focus on that part. “And, maybe the owners haven’t had the chance to refurbish the house yet.”
“That’s a great suggestion, Stevie! Why don’t we go and lend a hand.”
It was not, in fact, a great suggestion at all. What it was though is a ruse.
You didn’t give him the time to answer, immediately bolting outside the room. You knew you had him in a corner because Steve Rogers might’ve been a master strategist, a renowned captain, and a fearless leader, but you could always uncover the cracks in his façade, and you were certain something about this house didn’t sit right with him either. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“Uhm, maybe you should sit this one out, dove. You’ve never been good with a paintbrush.”
“Maybe so,” you replied with your back still to him. You didn’t need heightened senses to catch the shy curse that left his mouth. “But I’m good at baking. I can offer the new neighbors some pumpkin pie while you help them with the paint. You’re the artist, after all, baby.”
Steve caught your wrist before you could open the fridge to “search” for the ingredients for your pie.
“You mean like right now?”
“Yes! We may not be able to do much, but maybe enough to not have the trick-and-treaters scurry away at the sight of that house.”
Releasing your wrist from his grasp, you reached for the fridge. Steve’s veiny hand collided with the metal door, forcing it to close. With his hands on your hips, he spun you around and placed your body against the fridge.
“Y/N.” The coldness of the fridge’s metal door against your fingertips did little to appease the flames burning in your soul. God damn Steve Rogers and the effect he had on you. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?”
“…I hate that house.”
“The nice house down our street?”
“The morbid one that looks like Azkaban.”
“Aha!” You joiced, finger digging into Steve’s chest. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who found that creepy old building ominous.”
“Of course not. I’ve been pestering Tony for over a week, trying to find out who bought that place and see if they’re a security threat,” Steve admitted.
You tilted your head to the side, lips pursing in thought. “I mean, I don’t like the house. But is it a security threat?”
Sensing the shift in your voice, Steve’s hand found purchase in your hair, twirling a strand in his index finger. It was a familiar habit he had developed since you’d gotten together. Partly comforting and partly grounding—for both of you.
“According to Tony, it isn’t. But, you know me. Your safety is always at the forefront of my mind. And I don’t like how that house is so close to us.”
“Me neither,” you replied, now playing with Steve’s hands. You traced the veins protruding from his skin, marveling at the difference between his large hands and your petite ones. “But with you here, I don’t care about a silly old house.”
“So, can we forget about your little stakeout missions and go back to planning our private party this evening?” Steve smirked, tugging you closer by your waist.
“It was one time!”
“For five days.”
“Shut up,” you said with feigned indignation. “Or else no private party. I’ll force you to attend Tony’s.”
Steve’s eyes widened at the mention of Tony’s infamous party. This year, the theme was something along the lines of "Halloween of Doom." And since Steve wasn't a fan of the usual wild parties Tony would throw every chance he got, he wasn't looking forward to the Halloween shenanigans.
Just as you took his hand in yours and pulled him toward the hall, a sharp tap against your window sounded across the room. Bemused, you turned to Steve. He immediately stepped in front of you, keeping an ear out to identify the source of the sound.
Incessant in its pursuit of attention, the sound boomed louder. Steve motioned for you to stay where you were while he investigated. Five seconds later, he called your name, albeit hesitantly.
“Y/N,” he said, gaze unwavering ahead. “I think all that birdwatching you did called the attention of an angry bird.”
“Is that an owl?” You hadn’t realized how loud your voice was until the owl in question shrieked behind the glass window. What the hell was an owl doing at your house?
“It looks like it,” Steve answered.
Neither of you tried to open the window, which agitated the owl. It ruffled its feathers and tapped the glass, clearly demanding entry. You studied the nocturnal creature, which obviously lacked a sense of orientation since you were nowhere near the evening. Something on its leg caught your eye. You gasped, pointing at it. “There’s a rolled-up letter attached to its leg!”
The moment Steve noticed the letter, he rushed to open the window. The owl flew in, forcing you to step a couple of feet back—you were a sane person who didn’t go out of their way to look for owls, let alone ones that appeared in broad daylight.
Steve plucked the letter from its leg and opened it. “It’s an invitation.”
“For what?”
“A Halloween feast,” he said, eyeing the letter suspiciously. “At House 5 on Easton Avenue.” It was the same morbid house you two had been discussing.
You carefully approached Steve, mindful of the owl on your coffee table. You took the letter in your hands, reading it aloud.
We’ve Caught Your Unblinking Eye Through the Ashen Veil
We Know You Are Curious. We Feel It in Our Veins.
To Uncover the Macabre Truths Shrouded by Our Shadows
Join the Halloween Feast Tonight
And Embrace a Chilling Night at Doom’s Manor
House 5 - Easton Avenue - 9:00 PM
“This is worse than our phones when they display targeted ads because of whatever they heard us talking about,” you exclaimed, hands tightly clutching the piece of paper.
Steve’s eyes widened significantly, pure horror crossing his features. “Our phones do that?”
"Yeah," you replied with a matter-of-fact tone. You've most likely added one more item to Steve Rogers' “X Things I Hate About the Twenty-First Century” list. "They pick up on our search history too. So, maybe they'll know why that owl still hasn't left yet because it's starting to give me the creeps."
The owl with brown feathers and round yellow eyes hooted, hopping on the table and looking between you and Steve. It definitely did not like you.
“Maybe it wants something?” Steve guessed.
“Like what? Dollar bills or a treat in exchange for its postal services?” you scoffed. The owl wasn’t privy to your cynicism, but you still crept closer to Steve in fear of it deciding to attack you or something.
“A confirmation, maybe?” The owl hooted, seemingly agreeing with Steve. You quickly grabbed his arm, giving it a tight squeeze. “Dove, I don’t think it’s taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
As if on the same page, the owl moved away from you both and flew to the outside of the house. You and Steve just stared at the open window, House 5 right there, teasingly close.
Steve was on high alert. His fingers dug into the edges of the wooden window as he fixed his eyes on the mysterious house down Easton Avenue. You’d think that there would be bustling activity considering the owners had only recently moved in, but he never saw anyone walk in or out of that house. He didn’t even recall catching sight of anyone by the window.
And although the Halloween feast was barely ten minutes away from starting, no one had approached the house yet.
“Dove,” Steve called, pushing away from the window and adjusting his suit. “I’m gonna head out now. I know that Tony and the others overlooked the invite and didn’t want to interfere, but to be on the safe side—”
He was about to tell you to activate your security system and connect to the emergency line of the Avengers Initiative if he didn’t update you within twenty minutes of entering that house. But his words were stuck on the tip of his tongue when you walked into view.
“Why are you wearing your stealth suit?” you asked, almost glumly. Steve just blinked, looking completely flabbergasted, like a deer caught in headlights.
“I can ask you the same thing.” He pointed at your outfit, his tongue poking out and wetting his lips. “Why do you have a stealth suit on? Where did you even get one?”
The saccharine surprise in Steve’s tone fueled your heart with desire. You chewed on your lower lip, twirling a strand of your hair to draw Steve’s attention to your ponytail. His breath hitched, his eyes running a marathon across the expanse of your neck. You relished the lust that crossed over his features when you swayed your hips and sauntered to his side.
“Do you like it?” came your ardent whisper. Steve’s hands circled your hips, fingers burying in the leather of your suit, squeezing your side in affirmation.
You loved Halloween, making it your October resolution to find the best costume. But it was always hard to find one, considering there were so many options to choose from, and you were as decisive as a Gemini. After some time, an Avengers stealth suit popped up during your search, one which sinfully complimented your ass and curves. So you knew, right away, that getting your hands on it was a must if it would drive Steve crazy.
“Why are you wearing it, dove?” Steve asked once more.
Innocently batting your eyelashes at him, you answered, “Because we’re going to the Halloween feast.”
“Absolutely not.” And there it was. “I told you, I’m going in to check it. Alone. It’s a mission, Y/N. And you stray away from those.”
“It’s not an official mission if Tony didn’t approve it.”
“I’m the Head of the Avengers.”
“You’re Head Strategist, yes. But we both know that if Tony and Fury don’t give the green light, you can’t treat whatever this is as a mission.”
You had him there, and you knew it. While Steve Rogers had a knack for defending any argument and finding a way to assert his stance, this time he faltered for an answer, and only managed to say, “You’re still not going.”
“Don’t you think it’s going to look a tad bit suspicious if you walk into that house alone? And with your suit on?”
“No,” Steve shrugged. “Besides, that’s why I’m leaving my shield here.”
“And your common sense.” If his glare was any indication, he didn’t appreciate your commentary. “If I go with you, it would look like we’re genuinely interested in their stupid feast. You can snoop around while I stick to the activities.”
“That’s too dangerous.”
“So, why do you assume I’d let you go there on your own?”
“Because I’m enhanced, Y/N.”
“And I’m a SHIELD agent for the night, Steve.”
“And you judge me about my common sense?”
“Steve,” you stressed, catching his attention. “If that house is not as safe as the Avengers claim, I am not letting you go there by yourself. You can either go against me and leave me here, alone, well aware that our loony neighbors are watching. Or, you take me with you. It’s your call.”
It’s been yours since the beginning, and you’re not the least bit surprised when Steve mumbled something incoherent before he ushered you out of the house.
The neighboring houses, much like your own, were modestly decorated for the occasion. The Barbers, your neighbors from across the street, had a couple of skeleton bodies strewn across the yard and fake bats hanging from the large tree in their backyard. The Adlers went with carved pumpkins and flickering lanterns, which created a warm, inviting ambiance. Meanwhile, the Hansens had embraced the theme with scattered tombstones and heinous, life-sized witches tending to their boiling cauldrons.
Although the fifth house on Easton Avenue was barren and devoid of even a string light, it stood as the most intimidating and menacing of them all. The sinister atmosphere grew more palpable when you and Steve approached. The wind carried an unsettling chill, and the ancient trees lining the path creaked like ghostly sentinels. It was as if the house was an isle of malevolence adrift in a sea of darkness.
“Why is it the only house with fog surrounding it?” Steve noted. You both stood by a withered fence, the imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows.
“I don’t know,” you replied, glancing around nervously. “Maybe it’s just a fog machine, but this place is terrifying enough as it is. It doesn’t need any more decorations.”
With a heavy breath, Steve stepped forward, the fog swirling around his boots. You watched in apprehension as the entrance loomed ahead. Steve paused for a moment, turning back to you. His eyes, usually full of determination, now held a flicker of doubt. “I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N.”
The atmosphere turned even more chilling when, suddenly, a low, dissonant hum echoed from the depths of the house, making your hair stand on end. It was as if the very walls themselves held their breath in anticipation.
Without breaking his gaze from the looming house, Steve extended his hand toward you. You clasped onto it, anchoring yourself to this distorted reality. He spared a glance your way, one that was brief in time yet abundant in intensity, and you responded with a nod, your nerves on edge. With a deep breath, Steve raised his clenched fist to knock on the door, but before he could make contact, it swung open on its own.
You both cautiously crossed the threshold, never releasing each other's hands. You were met with a dimly lit room, paintings strewn across its walls, each with a calculating pair of eyes narrowing on you.
"Welcome, Steve Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N," a commanding voice boomed, rattling the portraits on the wall. You jumped in your shoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the source. You were left bewildered, staring at the void that surrounded you. "Welcome to a chilling night at Doom's Manor!"
You didn’t have time to ask questions—you barely had a chance to think before the front door swung shut and the blinds closed, engulfing the sinister house in even more darkness.
“What the hell?” you cried as an oppressive silence descended. It was like you were sucked into a black hole with only Steve’s touch tethering you to earth. “Steve! Turn on your flashlight.”
“I don’t have a flashlight, Y/N,” Steve tersely replied.
“You have a phone, which has a built-in flashlight. Turn it on,” you urged, your voice tinged with desperation. “Then we can discuss why you brought a gun and no flashlight to this place!”
You heard him groan in frustration, palms smacking against the leather of his suit as he fished out his phone. He pressed it, fingers less than graceful when it came to touchscreens. For a moment, you thought he had forgotten how to unlock the device. Until he said, “My battery’s dead.”
“Our brilliant Head Strategist venturing on a mission without the means to communicate! What kind of expert overlooks that?” you chastised, fishing out your own phone. You tapped it repeatedly, but the screen remained blank. A sinking feeling washed over you as you pressed the side button, yet it refused to light up. “I swear it was charged,” you whispered in disbelief.
“I’m afraid that your phones won’t work here,” the same disorienting voice said.
Unexpectedly, a blinding white radiance cut through the darkness, forcing both you and Steve to shield your eyes. As the light faded, it started to flicker intermittently, weaving through the walls and mingling with the torchlights.
Despite all the courage you tried to manifest, your voice brokenly whispered, “Steve, is this a bad time to tell you that I was never fond of haunted houses as a kid?”
The lights were still flickering when Steve ripped his hand from your firm grasp. Your breath hitched, thinking the worst. But he was still there next to you, eyeing the door. “No one is, dove. And I’m not forcing you to like ‘em now.”
With all the super soldier strength coursing through his veins, Steve lunged at the door, attempting to force it open. It broke your heart to see it stubbornly clenching its hinges no matter how many times Steve flung himself against it.
The mysterious voice tutted, inundating your being with fear. You held your breath, praying that Steve would get you both out of here fast.
“You should learn to treat even inanimate objects kindly, Captain Rogers. Or does all that strength chip away at your humanity?”
Ignoring the voice, Steve continued his assault on the door. What he didn’t expect was an incorporeal force that lunged at him without warning. The unadulterated strength in its grip sent him hurling through the air until he crashed to the ground with a loud groan.
“Steve!” you called apprehensively.
“Should I have warned you not to do that? Thought it was self-explanatory?” the same voice commented.
You heard your heels clicking against the tiles before you could even think about moving. Steve was rubbing at his temple, eyes forcibly closed after the fall. You were almost by his side when you felt a hand grab your hair and fling you into the air.
You shrieked, the quiver in your voice igniting Steve’s anger. He raced forward, arms stretched out. But unlike the pale, ghastly form that manhandled you, tangible vines stemmed from the recesses of the house’s tiles and walls, aiming at Steve.
“Get off him!” you commanded as you kicked your feet and threw a punch. Your forceful gestures vaporized into the thin air, torpid against the vice grip of the spirit before you. You gasped hard when the misty form wrapped itself around your neck—constricting the air around and molding you and the wall as one.
“Y/N!” Steve grunted, desperately trying to pry himself out of the vines’ steel grip. “Hold on. I-I’ll get it o-off.”
The morbid atmosphere was getting worse as dark spots clung to your vision’s periphery. The incorporeal assault remained relentless, slamming you once more against the wall. As you forced your eyes to meander, searching for a solution, you focused on antique torches, each with a blue flame in its grasp.
The same torch hung from the wall you were trapped against. With a growl and a hell lot of hope that Ghostbusters had taught you something useful, you snatched the torch and incinerated the elusive monster.
One less than graceful descent later, you braced yourself against the floor with a thud. Steve was still struggling against Mother Nature’s prodigal offspring. He’d gotten a dagger out, but the more he cut through the vines, the more they multiplied.
You staggered your way to him just as the plant lunged at his face. “Don’t even think about it!” you warned, attacking the plant with the iridescent flames. Steve inhaled sharply as the vines, which were wrapped around him, turned into ash.
“Dove, I don’t know if I should be in awe or fear of what just happened,” Steve admitted as you helped him up. You were too busy inspecting his body for injuries to answer.
“We need to get out of here,” you said in one breath. “This place isn’t safe.”
Steve was about to answer when the eerie voice interjected, “Safe is boring.”
You sneered, wanting so badly to punch whoever was callously commenting. Steve grabbed you tightly and maneuvered his way through the house. Luckily, nothing else attacked you two as you navigated the narrow corridors except for the thick dust and the cobwebs.
Steve had found a door, which he immediately opened. As he stepped into the room, large and foreboding, a sense of apprehension gripped him. Shadows danced along the walls, playing tricks on his vision, while a musty scent of decay lingered in the air.
You both tried to find a way out, but to your utter horror, the same door you had opened to run into this room disappeared.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Steve asked, bewildered. He ran his hands over the wall, fingers tracing the edges of the now-invisible door. “How is that even possible?”
You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know. But the werewolf would have been better.”
“Well, that could be arranged,” the mysterious voice announced.
In hindsight, you should’ve thought twice before giving your two cents. But how were you supposed to know that the sentient house didn’t only manipulate nightmares but could also manifest them?
Steve turned toward you, distress visibly carved across his forehead. He reached out for his gun just as a violent wind attacked the isolated room. Your hair flailed, falling victim to the assault.
You tightened your hold on the torch despite the wind’s ministrations. It was thrashing within the borders of the room, incessantly clawing at you and Steve. The bright azure flames wavered from where they were perched on your torch, despite all your attempts at keeping them tamed. They tumbled down and crashed into the ground.
The moment the flames met the tiles, they burst into a fit of undiluted anger. The blue orbs separated, each tracing its brittle path and leaving destruction in its wake. The flames circled you and Steve in a dance of tantalizing grace—rising beyond the surface and falling back into the ground’s arms.
You and Steve were each pushed to one side. You stood there, him with a fully loaded gun and you with an empty torch, silently watching as the translucent flames birthed a werewolf.
“I don’t think the situation can get any worse,” you pointed out, taking care to not step into the line of fire. Literally. “So, is it too late to ask for a vampire instead? At least we have a stake.”
Steve looked appalled by the suggestion. “This isn’t the Edmond-Jason debate, Y/N! Both options are worse for wear!”
The werewolf wasn’t fond of Steve’s vernacular; at least, that’s why you assumed since it decided to lunge at him first. You slumped back just as Steve ducked his head and rolled to the side. The beast was relentless in its movement, clawing and growling at your soldier—canines salivating with excitement, eager to dip into flesh.
“I know it’s not the time, but it’s Edward and Jacob! And what I meant is that we at least have a stake! A viable weapon against a vampire. What means of defense do we have against a translucent werewolf?!”
“The same thing we have against a translucent vampire,” Steve grunted, firing three consecutive shots at the luminous creature. All three of them pierced his hollow frame, leaving him unscathed. “Nothing!”
Despite the fear that inundated your body, you still looked for a weapon to fight the beast with. Unfortunately for you, the room was desolate with nothing but mold and fractured walls holding it on their shoulders. Steve was actively trying to retain its attention, steering it clear from your path, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to last any longer.
“Well, maybe the house can conjure a non-translucent vampire,” you thought aloud. Truthfully, you weren’t really thinking straight, but what other choices did you have at the moment?
Needless to say, Steve disagreed. “Vampires aren’t real!”
“Well, what do you know?” you shrieked, all modicum of common sense out of the non-existent window. “There is a Spider-Man and an Ant-Man. Who's to say there is not a.. a Bat-Man that’s willing to make this situation a little less complicated!” The wolf finally caught your voice. It growled as if to show its dissatisfaction at having to hear you speak, craning its head and baring its teeth when its silver eyes landed on you. “Mysterious house, please!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
If you could take a wild guess, you’d say the werewolf wasn’t particularly fond of the creepy voice. That, or it was crestfallen at the idea of losing its chew toys.
Its blue glow intensified, switching from deceitful calm to voracious hunger. Your heart hammered in your chest, assaulting your ribcage as it sensed the looming danger. You tried to step away, but the wolf spied on your meek attempt. It prowled, ferocious and murderous in its pursuit.
Just as you raised your arms to shield yourself from him, Steve’s body collided with yours. “Y/N!” his scream ricocheted across the walls.
Was it so vehemently loud? You wondered. Or were your ears easily susceptible to noise?
As soon as Steve’s arms wrapped around you, you fell gracelessly into the void. The blue of the wolf fused with the paleness of the room, making a torpedo of vivid, interloping colors swirl before your eyes. The fall was like a dwindling spiral—long, endless, and tiring. And then you landed somewhere more stale; much more dark.
“Y/N!” Your name was the first thing you heard and the light that pulled you from darkness’ heavy lull. Hands roamed your body, gentle yet firm, unrelenting despite the groan that escaped your throat. “Y/N, please. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me that you weren’t hurt.”
You lifted your head, now aware that you were lying on Steve’s chest. The perilous haze only barely dissipated once you opened your eyes. “I’m okay. Are you?” you asked, eyes raking over Steve’s figure to see if he had been hurt in that fight. Besides his frightened and concerned eyes, he looked alright.
A long breath escaped his pink lips. His large hand cradled your face, magically bringing your pulse back to a languid pace. “As long as you’re alright, I’m fine. But I’ll be better once we get out of here.”
You stood up, holding your hand out to Steve, which he gratefully took. Lacing your fingers together, you carefully examined your surroundings, noting the hollow room you were in. Once again devoid of light, air, and a way out.
“How are we gonna get out?”
“Through that door.” By now, your senses had been attuned to the house’s tricks, so you weren’t jostled by the resounding echoes of the mysterious voice. True to its words, a large blue door materialized at the far end of the hallway. It rattled against its hinges, almost as if something was trying to break free on the other side. “Better hurry up, angel wings. Or else you’ll miss it.”
The voice dissolved softly like snowflakes giving away to the sun. And yet, its resolve bellowed across the room, the walls and ground shattering against its whispers.
“Maybe the vampires weren’t such a bad idea after all,” Steve remarked. You knew his Captain's brain was on overdrive, actively searching for the best escape route. But you knew it was there, right in front of you. So, mustering up all the courage you had in you, you tugged Steve’s hand and bolted toward the blue door.
The walls wailed, angered at your choice. They began to move, closing in on you at a menacing speed. Steve pulled you closer, almost molding both your bodies into one. He gained momentum, and your feet were about to give up from the unbridled force of his movements.
The walls were at a measurable distance, and you couldn’t believe you’d made it unharmed this far. Steve reached out, trying to push the silver loop that would open the door. But you should’ve known better than to trust the mysterious house. Of course, it wasn’t going to make it easy.
“Of course, I wasn’t going to make it easy,” the voice parrotted the words inside your head.
“What do you want?” Steve seethed, looking over his shoulders as the walls picked up their pace.
“O Captain! My Captain! To enter Doom’s lair, you must first answer my question.”
“What question?”
You heard someone clear their throat, and you could’ve sworn the bastard was smirking before it answered,
“Forged by fears and entangled in thoughts,
Within the breadth of darkness, I reside.
Devoid of soul, I grasp control,
In my distorted mist, your will subsides.
I am concealed within deceit and unseen with eyes,
Tell me, soldier, who am I?"
“Son of a bitch!”
“Language, Captain. And that’s not the answer.”
Your feet quivered, bouncing in place. Steve had lost his patience, now alternating between throwing answers and attempting to knock the door down. He was spewing some more worthless answers while you stared at the walls. Barely 10 inches separated you from your ultimate demise, and nothing but a correct answer would save you from this situation. Despite your fears, you took a deep breath, knowing you needed to answer that question. Now.
“Nightmare!” you yelled. Steve had stopped the assault on the door, looking at you with a perplexed gaze. “The answer to the riddle is a nightmare.”
A weighty silence gripped the helm of the foreboding atmosphere, lingering until the awaited response finally emerged. “That is correct.”
The locks turned, the door creaking as it offered you the solace you’ve been so desperately seeking. Steve practically pushed you inside, following you soon after. The door closed shut behind you, ushering you into a misty room. The wind picked up once again, and before you, a cloaked figure emerged. Its head was down, edges of the onyx fabric it wore blowing with every single caress of the wind.
“Welcome,” the figure said in the same gruff and deep voice that you’ve been hearing since you entered the house. “Welcome to a chilling night at Doom’s Manor!”
“Who the hell are you?” you inquired agitatedly just as Steve ordered the figure to lift its cloak.
The cloaked figure revealed its pallid hands, previously concealed. With a tantalizing motion, the fingers encircled the edge of the hood, slowly lifting it. Your eyes widened, mind barely comprehending what you saw. And before you know it, you and Steve were saying the same thing in the same affronted tone. “Tony?”
“Oh, god. You should’ve seen your faces!” Tony clapped his hands together, the force of his laughs making him bend down and clutch his knees.
As he did that, the creepy atmosphere eroded, mist evaporating to reveal the large room behind it. Contrary to the other areas within the establishment, the room was full of life and spacious, with neon lights and a large disco ball illuminating it. All of the Avengers were there, and you even spotted Peter Parker in an Iron Man costume tearing Bucky’s ear off with one of his stories. Judging from the number of waiters tending to the even bigger number of guests, you knew what you walked into.
“Did you seriously rent out a spooky house just so that you can throw a secret party in its basement?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
“No,” Tony huffed, seemingly offended by the absurdity of your claim. “I bought it.”
Behind you, Steve was rolling his eyes while you raked your fingers through your loose ponytail. You were never going to understand billionaires and their logic.
“I thought you were throwing a party at the Compound,” Steve finally spoke. And thank God he did before you ripped Tony a new one for the scare he’d just cost you. You were most certainly going to have him cover your health insurance for the next eon and the one after.
“I was. But then you bailed to play house with your girl—great costume, by the way, Y/N. We should talk to Fury about making you a SHIELD agent. And they say your boyfriend’s ass is America’s ass.”
“Tony!”
“What? Fine, don’t get jealous. You still are America’s ass but in a less sexy and more annoying way.”
“Would you just tell me what the hell was all this?”
“Man, if I knew all it would take me is Wanda’s freaky manipulation magic to get you to curse, I would’ve done that a long time ago.”
Feeling your headache on the verge of expanding, you put your hand on Steve’s arm and interceded, “It’s clear that you're high on mindlessness right now. So, once you’re down from the Tony Stark Clouds of Wonder, we’ll talk about you and your ridiculous behavior.”
“Geez Louise, you’re not dressed as a shield agent, but the female counterpart of Captain Stern over here.”
“At least I’m not one less nose away from looking like Voldemort,” you spat as you trudged toward the party, Steve a step behind you.
Tony scoffed, his voice softer compared to the blaring music. “I’m dressed as the Grim Reaper.”
“Yeah, well, your stick seems to have been lost somewhere up your ass!”
When you and Steve joined the party, you headed immediately toward the bar. You weaved your way across the dance floor, giving Sonic-dressed Pietro a quick wave and catching the eye of a disinterested Bruce in an Ultron costume.
Natasha was at the bar, dressed as a ballerina with a pink tutu and a lot of pearly pins in her hair. You shot her a questioning look, which quickly dissolved courtesy of the menacing glare in her eyes. ‘Don’t ask,’ she silently communicated, and you were content with sitting there on a surprisingly comfortable barstool instead of running away from a wolf.
“I can’t believe Tony did all of this?” Steve voiced out, shoulders hunched and laced with tension.
Natasha handed him a signature fix she’d just made, passing you your drink of choice. “It’s not just you two. He did it to plenty of people.”
“Like who?”
“Bucky and Sam,” Natasha replied to your question. “They couldn't answer the riddle, so they got stuck outside cursing at one another until Strange had enough of their arguing and portalled them in. They were pretty pissed. Thor made it out, thanks to Loki. He enjoyed it, though. Loki? Not so much. He turned into a snake and tried to bite Tony the moment he got to the other side of the door. Pepper and Happy are next.”
You shook your head at the thought. “She’s going to kill him.”
“Exactly. Which is why he has a surprise for her, under lock and key, somewhere around here.”
Dissatisfied by the piece of information, Steve snatched his drink and faced the other way. “Of course, he’d try to get out something without facing the repercussions.” His attention focused on Tony's exaggerated gestures as he iterated his previous morbid speech to the new guests.
Your eyes narrowed at Tony, thoughts errant as they dug up a hundred ways you could get back at him. Honestly, a part of you was willing to get Snake Loki to bite him or convince Dr. Strange to send him halfway across the universe. But you wanted to hit him where it hurts. You wanted him to feel the fear he inflicted on you and Steve, even if it was for just a moment. But Tony Stark didn’t fear anything. Well, apart from Starbucks running out of his favorite coffee and Pepper ignoring him.
“Pepper!” you shouted in glee. Steve and Natasha looked between you and the door, thinking that Pepper had already crossed all the obstacles and made it safely to the party. A crease lined up on their foreheads when they didn't find her there. “Nat, you don’t happen to have a key to that room, do you?"
At the drop of a hat, Natasha caught on to what you were saying. She shook her head but deviously smirked, green eyes flickering to the space behind you. “I don’t. But Wanda’s been regretting helping Stark on this. It shouldn’t be hard to convince her to help you get back at him.”
You jumped from your seat, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The intensity of your excitement and the tug on Steve’s arm made his drink fall and spill on the countertop. It took you a minute to find Wanda, who was sitting in the corner with downcast eyes, nursing a drink. She didn’t hesitate to help you, literally jumping at the chance.
Moments later, she led you to a room down a few halls and flicked her wrist, materializing a key and unlocking the door. Her 30s-inspired dress swung as her figure retreated. You looked at Steve, took a deep breath, and entered the room. But where you expected to find shopping bags, jewelry, or even a giant Iron Man teddy bear, what you found was something entirely different.
“Steve,” his name came out as a whisper. “Please don’t tell me I have to explain what I’m seeing. Because I don’t think I can.”
Your gaze was fixed on your surroundings, unable to be torn from anything else. You didn’t see Steve’s unblinking eyes or the tingles that danced across his fingers. It took him a while before he composed himself and answered you. “It’s okay. I already know.”
The room was red, a deep, rich shade of scarlet red. And if you had been careful enough to read the plaque by the room’s door, you would’ve figured it was Tony’s Halloween version of the red room. But what was beneath the mirrored ceiling, which quite frankly made you hyperventilate at the thought of the glass possibly falling on you while sleeping on that astonishingly spacious king-sized bed, was not a welcoming ballet class with metal bars and pink pointe shoes on the side. It was red walls with metal cuffs and chains attached to them and a widespread table with three silk blindfolds, floggers, ropes, and a whole lot of other things that made heat rise to your cheeks.
“We can’t destroy anything,” you breathed out with a voice that was too airy to be your own. “We can’t even hide anything with that wide selection Tony has. He’s not going to miss a blindfold, and he’ll just ask for another bottle of champagne.”
Steve didn’t answer, his mind preoccupied with something else. You couldn’t fault him; it was exceedingly hard to look at the room around you. And when you chanced a glance at the corners, you had to bite your lip at the sight of the cameras and lighting. Tony went all out, and to be honest, you didn’t know if this was his “genius-philanthropist” side, who was investing in a sexually healthy relationship with Pepper, or if it was his “billionaire-playboy” side, who decided there’s no shame in indulging in a variety of pleasures and give Pepper the liberty of choice.
You were so lost in thought, you were surprised to find Steve examining one of the cameras. He flicked on the lights and turned the camera to your side. Your brain finally registered his actions, and you were sure he didn’t know what he was doing since he barely even knew how to answer a video call. But before you could say anything, Steve beat you to it.
“Why destroy when we can take advantage?”
The camera turned on. You could tell from the twinkle of mischief in Steve’s irises that he caught the stagger in your pulse before you even did. He turned around, his sculpted and perfectly molded back replaced with the sight of his chiseled jaw. You gulped, blood rushing to your ears while shivers rushed down your spine.
You watched as Steve glided across the room, footsteps light and noiseless compared to the harsh speed of your heartbeats and the fray within your every vein. You wanted him. And he knew because with each step he took to get closer to you, you didn’t falter. You stood right where you were, waiting for him to devour you.
His cerulean eyes transformed, ebbing and flowing in a sea of blue and green. Until his waves crashed against your shore, and you met them somewhere in the middle.
“Steve.”
He didn’t reply. He inched closer even though there was no more room for his body to creep to, forcing his knee between your legs and giving you no other choice but to open them. You almost stumbled but quickly understood what he wanted.
It was like a dance. Every time Steve moved closer, you found yourself stepping back until your back hit the door, leaving nothing but locked gazes between you. With a bated breath, you studied Steve’s movements, whimpering as his left arm rose and nestled against your head. His palm was pressed against the cold door, whose color burned with desire. And somehow, Steve absorbed that hunger and set your entire body ablaze with it. Without a single touch.
“I can feel you,” he murmured on top of your lips, his velvety breath claiming rights to a first kiss. Steve leaned his body closer, almost engulfing you whole. His index and middle fingers made contact with your skin, and you swore you could’ve exploded. He traced the distance between your fingers and forearm, leisurely exploring the smooth surface that framed your veins. Involuntarily, your head craned, exposing your neck as he inched closer and closer, cheekily exhaling against your pulse point. “I can smell you,” he almost moaned, or maybe that was you. “You smell so tart, so fresh. So, deliriously scrumptious.”
“Steve,” this time, you did moan, implicitly begging him to touch you. You heard the lock on the door click, but you didn’t dare move your eyes.
In the next few seconds, Steve pulled the key out of the keyhole. You exhaled loudly, head banging against the wooden door when he moved the metal keys against your clothed heat. Sparks ignited in your soul as you began to take the fast lane to heaven, and Steve’s voice didn’t help the ache recede. It only fanned its flames.
“So wet.” He knew it without feeling it for himself. “So inviting.” He moved the key from your center to your navel and then to your sternum. You hadn’t realized how hot your body was until the keys touched your collarbone. It was a clash of hot and cold—an explosion of the senses with Steve’s breath hovering against your shoulders to add the final and delicious touch. With tantalizing grace, the key danced across your throat and chin, lifting your head to meet Steve’s breathless whisper, “So beautiful.”
Your eyes met, and you couldn't tell if his pupils were dilated or if his typically clear blue eyes were merely mirroring your own. He trapped your cheeks in his hold, applying the slightest bit of pressure on them. You couldn’t help but gaze at the camera that recorded the way Steve tapped the key against your lips, almost pushing it in.
Within the next second, his fingers loosened around the key, making it fall into the open space of your suit. You moaned aloud, the sound stretching over a minute when Steve stuffed his index and middle fingers in your mouth while bringing his prominent bulge closer to your heat. “My mistake, little dove.” He thrust forward, his clothed dick deliciously humping against your pussy. You whimpered around his fingers. “Be a pretty little girl, Y/N, and suck on my fingers while I get back that key.”
You nodded your head, vehemently following his order. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked his fingers inside your throat—lost in the simple pleasures Steve Rogers was known to give.
He planted wet, demanding kisses on your neck and just below your ear, not too far from your earlobe but not close enough. His other hand caressed your cheek until it retreated and began to reach for the zipper on your suit. It was at the forefront, making it easy for Steve to find it and lower it down. His hips met yours just as you pushed his fingers away from your throat. You pulled them back in, keeping the rhythm going while your tongue swirled around his fingertips.
Your zipper lowered, slowly and placidly, yet there was nothing peaceful about the way Steve trailed his thumb across your exposed skin. A fire consumed you whole, a sinful moan escaping when he found the key and cupped your pussy, with it still in his hands. You could’ve cried then and there, and frankly, there were tears on the edge of your lashes. In your lustful delirium, you hadn’t noticed your hiked leg on Steve's waist, which was pushing him closer to your body. He massaged your heat, his fingers and the key playing with your clothed folds until he backed away completely to cup your cheeks.
“Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me, dove?” he asked in a sultry voice that made your core weep.
He took his fingers out of your mouth, keeping his eyes on parted lips. You wet your them eagerly, needing him to satiate your thirst. “Yes, Captain.”
Steve smirked, the key long forgotten but the desire ever-present. “When I sit down on the edge of that bed, you’re going to take off your clothes. I want you to keep that sinful bra, these terrible excuse for panties, and those high heels on. Nothing else, alright?”
“Yes, Captain,” you affirmed.
Steve leaned forward, his pink lips above yours. You chased them, greedily wanting a kiss. But the only thing you got was a smirk in return. He took a slight detour, heading toward the camera on the right to make sure it was on, too. His broad shoulders looked even more breathtaking in the softly lit space.
Then, he sat down on the large bed, legs open and inviting. You took it as your cue. Gracefully, you slipped the suit off your skin, sighing in exaggerated relief as the fabric released its hold. You were filled with a sense of accomplishment when Steve shifted in his seat, his throat bobbing. You grabbed at your sides, making sure your thong was at a perfect angle before lowering the rest of your suit down. Steve’s breath was caught in his throat, eyes examining you as you slipped off your shoes to peel the rest of your stealth suit off.
Remembering Tony’s previous remarks about the suit, you turned back, purposely bending over as you grabbed your shoes. You kept your back at the same lowered angle, giving Steve a front-row seat to your round ass, temptingly framed by the thin black thong you had on.
Despite your bubbling anticipation, you took your time. And you were not disappointed by the sight before you. Steve was already cupping his clothed erection, playing with himself because of your actions. You glanced at him, moving one heel in front of the other, but he put up his hand before you could move any closer.
“St—?”
“On your knees,” he ordered. You were surprised by his command but quickly composed yourself, setting yourself on your knees with your hands flat on your thighs obediently. “Crawl to me, little dove. Come and show me how good you can make a man feel.”
It was like you were moving on autopilot. All your brain could muster were thoughts of Steve. On top of you, underneath you, and facing you. Every single image was of him losing control and moaning your name without abandon. So, you crawled like the good girl you want to be—his good girl.
When you got to his side, you touched his ankles, hands skimming across his legs and fingers teasing the area behind his knees. Choked sounds escaped his parted lips, egging you on. Your lips landed on his clothed erection, and you stilled for a beat, then two. You could feel him twitch as a result of your gaze.
Hands on the inside of his thighs, you gave him a gentle squeeze. You puckered your lips and peppered kisses on his clothed erection, going as far as to whimper. There was soon pressure on your head once Steve carded his fingers in your hair. “Y/N,” he murmured. “Don’t tease.”
Your doe eyes met his in a luscious glance, his eyes never leaving yours. Not when you bit down on his belt, not when you untangled it with only your teeth, and certainly not when you helped him out of his suit, yanking down his boxers and sucking on his tip. “Yes, that’s it, dove. That’s it,” he said, head thrown back.
And you took the chance to make him crumble even more. His dick was large, exhilaratingly captivating. You felt dirty at the thought of wanting it inside of you—inside your mouth and your pussy. Hell, you even loved having it between your breasts. You just wanted Steve’s dick so bad, and you were not shying away from mentally admitting that Steve turned you from his little dove to his good little whore whenever his dick was involved.
You hollowed your cheek and took as much of his dick as you could in your mouth. You had been practicing, some nights trying to deepthroat him thrice to get every bit of him in you, tattooing your every essence on his cock.
Steve moaned, loudly and pornographically, bucking inside your mouth. You accepted him, moving even further down across his shaft, the wet noises only spurring you on. Greedily, you used your hands to grip his base. When your mouth thrust deeper, your hands moved higher, creating a polarizing rhythm that left Steve throwing himself back against the bed. “Good God,” he practically screamed. “Take me. Take all of me in your little mouth and tiny hands, Y/N. Wet my dick with your mouth, baby girl. Make me cum just for you.”
You obliged, taking him even deeper and relishing his moans. Your lips moved lower, tongue circling around his balls before you sucked each of them in. His grip on you tightened, eliciting a slight pain in your head. But you didn't care. “Fucking good girl of mine,” he cried out breathlessly, fingers fisting your hair. “Fucking perfect mouth that’s made to take no one but me. To swallow no man’s cum but mine. To have its walls and roof painted white by my dick and my dick alone.”
Your pussy ached, and you found yourself desperately humping against the floor while you took his balls in your mouth, moaning like a fucking porn star. You were surprised your lustful sounds hadn’t attracted anyone yet, and you quickly realized that the room must’ve been soundproof. The realization made you rub your pussy harsher against the parquet floor, hands now gripping Steve’s thighs for dear life.
In your peripheral vision, you saw Steve move his shoe-clad feet closer to your core. You whimpered, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. Steve was a gentleman, and while he could be feral in the bedroom, he could never find it in himself to humiliate or degrade. But he knew that when lust took over, you desperately wanted to be his slut. His whore. Nothing but a hole for him to abuse and fill at his leisure.
The first time you asked him to degrade you, he froze. And when he wasn’t comfortable with doing that, you didn’t ask again. But Steve would sometimes do something. A small gesture to appease the both of you. He’d reach out for the drawer and silently look at you with a soundless question: can I use toys? He’d put three fingers in your pussy and wait for you to ask for more before he fisted you.
And tonight, he was giving it to you. The chance to be degraded—to be his perfect little whore. And you took it, crying out loud, practically sobbing at the feel of your wetness coating his shoes. He didn’t move, but you did, swinging your hips back and forth while taking all of his dick in your mouth. You hadn’t noticed how utterly filthy and lewd you looked until you raised your eyes and met your reflection in the ceiling’s mirror. Steve was looking at you too. He watched the way you humped his shoes and took his cock in your mouth. He pushed you against his dick, and you choked. Your breathing became erratic the more you moved against his shoes, tears spilling down your eyes accompanied by the symphony of your satisfied sobs. And that did it for him. He exploded with a scream of your name, cum invading your mouth and taking over your entire senses.
He slowly shifted you back, freeing his shoe from your hold. You were a sight for sore eyes. Thong wet and askew, bra hanging low with pebbled nipples almost peeking out, eyes blown wide with desire. He devoured the painting in front of him, committing your disheveled hair and the cum dripping down the side of your red, swollen lips to memory.
“Captain.” Though he wasn’t too far off in his dreams—because they couldn’t rival this reality—Steve had to admit that he got lost in his thoughts. Your voice called out to him like a devious siren luring him to his demise. “Please. Take me.”
You gasped when his hands were suddenly on your ass, but you barely had the chance to think about it. In the next second, Steve placed you on the mattress with his lips perched above your own. They were like the forbidden fruit: enticing, delectable, and there. Just there, only slightly out of reach. He lightly caressed your lips, each time pulling back before you could reciprocate, repeating the motion until he finally yielded to you.
“Let me taste myself on your lips, little dove,” he breathed in your mouth huskily. “Prove to me I’m only appetizing on your tongue.” You obliged. Your lips captured his own in a violent assault, claiming his tongue as a hostage. Trapped within the walls of your mouth, it explored the edges and the roof, clashing against your own tongue.
You caressed his face, fingers grazing over the beginning of his stubble. A sigh escaped your lips, both from his seductive ministrations and the thought of his stubble against your wet pussy. The image dissolved as soon as his lips left your own. You yelped, finding Steve’s hands entrapping both of yours. “Stevie,” you whimpered, every syllable begging him for his attention. His other hand slithered down your body, gliding across your inner thigh. You thought this was it—he was finally giving you your heart’s desire. But instead of the moan you expected to flee from your throat’s confines, you heard yourself yelping. A sharp and blazing sensation overtook your core, forcing your head back.
“What do you want, dove? You gotta be specific for me, little one?”
“Your hands,” you moaned. It was quickly replaced by a sharp cry when Steve slapped your pussy again. “In me. Inside of me, please,” you begged, gasping when Steve landed another slap across your lower lips. Your clit ached, swollen and inflamed, showing Steve exactly where you needed him.
He slithered his fingers across your pussy lips, moving them up and down. You mewled, alternating between looking at your reflection in the mirror and looking at Steve. His fingers quickly found your entrance, and he put the tip of his fingers in. But the bane of mischief that Steve Rogers was in the bedroom, he took them out of you, replacing them with a harsh slap.
“Not yet,” he practically growled. Leaving you fighting for composure, Steve reached out to the table by his side. The first thing you saw was the handcuffs he diligently wrapped around your hands and secured against the bedframe. The second was the silver silk blindfolds, which he wrapped around your eyes.
You willingly slipped into the darkness, mesmerized by the sea of possibilities before you. Your senses amplified when Steve’s fingers traveled down the expanse of your body. You felt the bed dip, Steve’s bulky frame nestled on top of your stomach. And you melted in a pool of unbridled hunger when he tapped his index finger against your lips with a single command, “Don’t swallow.”
You half expected him to be jerking and ready to unload his load in your mouth. Or maybe he wanted you to take him once more down your throat. But you almost gagged at the feel of the cold liquid inundating your mouth—the taste of the bubbling champagne asserting its dominance.
Steve set the bottle down, leaving you unsure whether he had taken a sip or not. His earlier ministrations resumed, this time hands tugging at your bra. He cupped your breasts, weighing them in his hands. You wanted to moan so badly, but you didn’t want to defy his orders.
He reveled in the way you whimpered, sounds oppressed by the force of his command. He continued playing with your breasts, keeping your left one in his hand and drawing special attention to your right one. He peppered both of them with kisses, using his tongue to circle the area around your nipple and make your pussy clench around nothing but the air that surrounded you.
You bucked against his tongue, hands tugging at the restraints, but they refused to budge. Not that you expected them to. Breathing through your nose, you tried to reach for your impending release. You were no stranger to nipple orgasms, and Steve was trying to draw one out of you—you were sure. A fire built up inside of you, leaving your body temperature rising. You thrust your hips in the air. Sadly, nothing caught their movements.
Steve alternated between both nipples, giving each of them an equal amount of attention. You cried louder, trying to hold the champagne in. You were about to come when Steve pulled away.
A high-pitched whine reflected your displeasure, gaining you a slap to your pussy. “Patience,” Steve ordered, and you reluctantly obliged. Even though you ached to be ravaged by him, whether by his hands, tongue, or dick, you had to admit that you were enraptured by his movements and were always more than eager to lose yourself in his lustful tempest.
You let some fresh air fill your lungs, still breathing through your nose, while Steve adjusted himself on your body. Though blindfolded, your senses were elevated, and you could sense Steve’s body heat creeping closer to yours. True to your suspicion, he loomed over you. One of his hands slithered across your neck, trapping you in a chokehold. You embraced his untamed gestures, craning your head to hopefully meet his face.
Without so much as a clue, Steve crashed his lips against yours with such fervor it left you reeling. You couldn’t keep the champagne in anymore, feeling Steve steal some of it from your mouth to his, letting the rest fall down across your chin and chest. Steve didn’t kiss you at that moment. He consumed you, engulfed you with his mouth, greedily taking in everything you had to offer.
You were an instrument, and he was the musician, releasing one string to play with the other. With a loud pop, he let go of your mouth, licking a long stripe down your neck and nibbling at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he roared, one of his hands moving to your center.
“Yours,” you confirmed, eyes misty with lust and heart lost in the haze of Steve’s ardor. “I’m yours,” you barely managed to whisper before you cut yourself off with a loud yell. Your head hit the pillow, your body forced down by the weight of Steve’s palm on your stomach. You felt something enter your drenched pussy, seething itself to one side. You breathed in deeper now that your mouth had been free of the champagne’s grasp.
You winced, something else entering the right side of your pussy. Steve played with your clit, easing the discomfort. As the pain ebbed and passion rose, you quickly figured out what had Steve done: he’d put Ben Wa balls inside of you.
“You’re such a perfect little dove, Y/N. Letting me do anything and everything I want to do with you, knowing I’ll make you feel so good. Make you feel so perfect.”
“Yes,” you nodded vehemently, restraints rattling in harmony. “Yes, Captain. You make me feel so good.”
Steve smirked, and you just knew it from when he cupped your breasts and covered them with his mouth. “Just as you make me.”
He pulled your tits apart, and you hopped that meant he was going to fuck you. To fuck the brains out of you and the desire that’s nestled deep within your core. But of course, a super soldier like Steve wouldn’t be done yet. You didn’t know how much time had passed, whether it was an hour or an eon, but time always seemed inconspicuous when Steve was involved.
“Do this one little thing for me, baby doll. And I promise, I will let your pretty princess pussy milk my cock.”
“Anything,” you replied. Steve kissed you then, short but passionate. He pulled back and gave you one more peck before you felt him squeeze your tits once more, this time putting his dick between them. “Oh God. Oh God, Steve!”
“You like taking my cock any way you can, little dove,” he stated matter-of-factly, thrusting himself in the space between your tits and toying with your nipples at the same time. “You like having me as yours. Being the only woman in the world who can take my cock in a dozen different ways. The only woman who I can paint with my cum.”
“Steve,” you mewled loudly and sinfully. His movements, your thoughts, and the added pressure of the Ben Wa balls deep inside of you did so little to appease your heat. You cried and cried, moaning louder than any porn star in existence. And when you felt Steve grunt in pleasure, you gave it to him.
“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he cursed when you spat at his dick, drool dripping down your lips and mixing with precum. “You’re so shamelessly beautiful like this. My favorite piece of art.”
He thrust faster, lifting one breast and lowering the other to create an earth-shattering friction that left his dick twitching by your mouth. You knew what was coming, and you didn’t care whether Steve would allow your release or not. You opened your mouth, counting down his brisk breaths. He grunted twice, moaned once, and nestled his head in your neck to bite down on your shoulder. He was coming. So, you opened your mouth and took as much as you could while the rest of him mesmerizingly decorated your face and chest.
Steve released your tits, but the pressure in your core only barely subsided. He kissed your forearms, wet lips trailing your hands until he reached your wrists. Finally, after so much waiting, he released your hands and untied the blindfold. You squinted at the invasive light. Steve took this as a chance to kiss your eyelids, thumb caressing the curve of your mouth. “You’ve been so good to me, little dove. I think it’s time to get your reward. Would you lay on your stomach for me?”
You opened your eyes, seeking the warmth of his irises. “Uh-huh,” was all that you said before Steve helped you to the position he wanted. He unclipped your bra and slowly discarded your thong. Your pussy clenched, and he kissed your ass cheek when he noticed. “I’ll give you everything you need and more, my Y/N.”
Steve reached out for a pillow, placing it on your pelvis. “Stevie, please. I can’t wait anymore. Please, baby.”
“Don’t beg, little dove,” Steve told you while moving your hair to the side and positioning himself above you. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m yours. Take all of me.”
You whimpered, teary eyes looking at him to relieve you of your ache. Steve immediately moved his tip along your folds to collect your essence. Yearning for you as much as you yearned for him, he began to slowly sheath himself inside of you. You cried out at the sheer size of him, hands fisting the sheets beneath you.
Steve inserted himself slowly, bottoming out with a deep, guttural moan. “Fuck,” you breathed, grinding your hips against his—the friction amplifying his passion and yours. The Ben Wa balls intensified your lust, making you feel full and empty all at once.
Slowly, he started to move. His thrusts were sharp and deep, reflecting his need for you. But the more you moaned, the more he faltered, digging his dick further inside you. “You feel so good,” he admitted, knowing this position was a favorite of yours. You both had quickly discovered that it made for the best sex—giving Steve a clear route to your g-spot and an earth-shattering orgasm.
“More,” you demanded, seeking out his unbridled hunger. “Please, more!” You wanted to feel him lose control inside of you. You adored feeling him lose control inside of you. Steve obliged, thrusting in and out of you at a maddening pace, deeply embedding himself within your heat. “Fuck, Steve. Fuck!” you cried, his balls hitting your skin, adding to the lewdness of the scene.
“Tell me I can go faster,” Steve almost begged. You tilted your head, finding him with eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration. There was a thin layer of sweat on his face, and you sought his hand to interlace your fingers, finding ways to mold into each other further. “Tell me I can ravage you. Tell me that I can give you all of me, Y/N.”
You squeezed his hand, and he reciprocated your touch. His thrusts were on the precipice of control, as were his actions, this close to tipping over the edge. He had taken your neck hostage in his large veiny hands, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth in tandem with his dick inside your pussy. “Lose control,” you told him. “Lose yourself in me, Captain.”
And lose himself he did. His thrusts became irregular, and it was hard to tell where exactly his hands were on your skin. They were squeezing your breasts, roaming your stomach, tightly pressing against your ass. He was everywhere. You looked up at the ceiling, salivating and burying your face in the mattress at the beautiful portrait you and Steve painted together. You both moaned louder than ever before, the cameras eagerly commemorating your actions.
“Steve, I’m so close,” you warned him when he kept on repeatedly hitting your g-spot. His response came in the form of short but sweet-sounding kisses planted from your collarbone to your neck. He nibbled on the shell of your ear, licking the skin there and sucking on it.
“Cum, little dove,” he said huskily. “Cream my cock.”
You moved faster against his dick, taking all of him in until you collapsed in on yourself, every part of you stealing Steve’s affection. You clenched hard against his dick, feeling yourself squirt and cream his cock. It didn’t take him seconds before he exploded inside of you, emptying his load for the third time with a scream of your name. He didn’t relent, though. His sporadic movements picked up again. At this point, you were far too lost in the haze of your unabashed engagements to notice. It didn’t take you long to feel another orgasm building up.
You were about to warn Steve when he flipped you over on your back, dick salaciously pounding into your pussy. Determination itched on his brows, and undiluted want lined his irises. He put his hand on your mouth, and you wailed, back arching, pussy squirting (again. How is this even possible?), and your entire surrounding collapsing on itself.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?” you heard a high-pitched scream. Too far gone in the throes of passion, you weren’t aware that Tony had opened the door, leading Pepper inside the room. But oh, Steve did. Judging by the smirk, he had heard them coming in.
“Do I really need to explain to you the birds and the bees, Tony?” he mocked, securing the sheets around you both and hiding you from view. His dick twitched inside of you, making it harder for you to breathe.
Tony looked furious. “What I need to you to explain, you ungrateful ass, is what are you doing in this room?
Steve arched an eyebrow. “Procreating,” he answered. You had to cover your mouth and hide behind him so as not to laugh. You could barely move from all the previous activities, and Steve’s dick inside of you, trapped between your overused pussy and the Ben Wa balls, wasn’t really helping the situation. “What are you doing here? Is that why you made comments about Y/N’s ass? Were you hoping to watch us or something?”
“OH MY GOD.”
“Pepper. No, I swe—”
“Is that your idea of making it up to me? Watching Y/N and Steve go at it. Tony—”
“Absolutely not! Do I look like I have a grandfather kink or something?”
“Then, why are we in this room?”
“Well, I was hoping we could engage in—”
“ENGAGE? With Steve and Y/N??”
“NO. I don’t even know what they’re doing here!”
“What every two consenting adults do,” you added with a raspy voice. Tony’s expression was almost as good as the sex you just had. He was utterly dumbfounded, desperately raking his brain to persuade Pepper that this wasn’t what she thought she was. “Nice costume, Pep. I’m sorry. We were told there was a surprise waiting for us for the emotional trauma caused by your genius playboy.”
“Yeah,” Pepper exhaled. She was dressed in what you assumed was an Asgardian dress, and you felt guilty to have ruined her night. “Well, it was a surprise for all of us. I’m sorry on behalf of the idiot playboy.”
Pepper glared at Tony, heels digging into his shoes. He cursed, his frustrations matching hers. “Pepper,” he begged breathlessly. But she was already gone. “I’m getting you two back for this. I swear.”
“No, Tony. We will not send you a copy of our sex tape,” you teased, purposely raising your voice. You swore Tony’s arc reactor was going to malfunction.
“I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. PEPPER, I SWEAR. SHE’S LYING!!”
And with that, he left, leaving you and Steve hysterically laughing. He kissed you breathlessly, hands holding your face like you were the most precious thing in his life. “Halloween wasn’t that bad.”
“No. I kind of like this house now, too.”
“Me too, dove. I love every place I make happy memories there with you.” And happy memories you continued to make with Tony and Pepper’s squabble long lost in the background.
I'm going to hell for this.
You can also find my work on AO3. 🤍
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#captain america#captain america x reader#captain america x female reader#marvel fanfiction#avengers fanfiction#marvel mcu#avengers#the avengers#steve rogers smut#captain america smut#kinktober 2023#marvel kinktober#steve rogers kinktober#halloween fanfic#JamiesHalloween2023
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Night of The Maneater
Part 2: The Catch
Part One || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3
Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist
Pairing: Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader
Summary: The games are over, and The Maneater has laid claim to her prize. Now, it would seem she wants to play a new game with her catch of the night...
Content Warnings: Light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise
Notes: This is the first time I’ve written a fic in second person. I usually write in first person, but I figured it was time for a refreshing change. Well, that and I didn’t feel like switching POVs, so now we have this. Enjoy!
Also, I didn’t realize when scheduling the post for this, but happy FNAF movie day!!! How convenient was my timing? Hehehe! 🤭
Word Count: 2,378
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Michael woke up in his own bedroom. The back of his head still throbbed, and he even felt a little dizzy as the haze of sleep threatened to pull him back under.
He was seated at the head of his bed, convinced the whole experience he had with The Maneater was just a bad dream until he tried to move his arms. He was handcuffed to the headboard behind him, his arms bound behind his back.
“Rise and shine~” The ghost-faced figure entered the bedroom with an air of sinister excitement contrary to her mask–which was stuck in a silent scream exaggerated by its elongated mouth and stretched jaw–and her body was draped in the dark fabrics of a tattered black cloak, leaving most of her figure to the imagination.
She strolled into the room holding Michael’s long abandoned bowl of popcorn. “I hope you don’t mind. I got a little hungry while you were out.” It was odd, hearing her voice without a phone in his hands. It came to his ears in a sound unmuddled by telephone static.
She placed the bowl on the nightstand before sitting on the bed next to him, resting a gloved hand on his knee. “How’s that head of yours?”
Michael flinched under her touch. “I- It could be better.”
“Poor thing…” The Maneater rose to her feet, strolling along the side of the bed. “Need a painkiller?”
“No thanks.” He decided he’d rather not let this mysterious figure drug him while he was handcuffed to his own bed.
When The Maneater leaned against his nightstand, he found his voice again to ask. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’d like to do a lot of things to you, Michael,” The Maneater’s voice took a sensuous dip. “But, I need you to admit something first.”
Michael felt his heart flutter. “Wh-”
He was interrupted by The Maneater as she pulled a hunting knife from within her tattered cloak to hold the flat of the blade against his face, the chill of the steel making him shiver.
“You never fully answered my question earlier.” She used the blade to caress his face, eliciting another shudder from him. “Did you enjoy our little game?” She leaned in, and Michael almost thought he could see the faint outline of human eyes looking back at him from within the dark voids of the mask's lifeless eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell how you really feel. I can see…” She dragged the flat of the blade along his jaw. “...how the danger as I chased you…” The knife continued its journey down his chest. “..and the risk of being caught by me…” She continued sliding the knife all the way to his knee before trailing it back up his thigh to rest beside his evident arousal. “...really affected you. You liked being hunted, didn’t you? I’d even dare to say that you wanted me to catch you.”
Michael anxiously bit his lip, his cock throbbing with each new part of his body the knife explored. “I- I don’t-”
“Oh, come on.” The Maneater scoffed. “Answering this question wrong is what caused you to lose our game in the first place. Would you really want to make things worse for yourself by misanswering again?”
Michael gulped, feeling a surge of humiliation as heat flushed his cheeks. “I- I did…”
“You did what, hun?” The Maneater teased as she used the flat of the knife to tilt his chin back up to face her. “Use your words, Michael~”
Michael felt another surge of embarrassment as a desperate whine creeped into his voice. “I liked your eyes on me… I liked hearing you praise me… I liked being hunted by you… and…”
He could hear The Maneater breathing heavily. “And what?”
“And…” Michael twiddled with his fingers behind his back. “And, part of me wanted you to catch me.”
The Maneater shivered, and she lazily tossed the knife across the room before cupping Michael’s face with her gloved hands. The material was thin enough to allow him to feel the warmth of her hands through it, and he let out a soft moan as his eyes fluttered closed at her touch.
“And now that I have you,” She rubbed her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks. “What should I do with you?”
Michael slowly opened his eyes, looking up at her with a soft expression. “Let me see who you are.”
The Maneater cocked her head, taking a moment to consider the idea. “Only if you ask nicely.”
Michael’s eyelashes fluttered as he breathed. “Can you show me who you are? Please?”
The Maneater slowly drew her hands away from Michael, and he softly whimpered at the loss of contact. “How polite~” She grabbed at her ghost face mask. “I guess I have no choice but to show you, now.” Then, in one fluid motion, she ripped it off.
Michael gasped at the beauty that hid underneath the eerie ghost face mask. He stared in silent wonder, taking in each feature of the human face that now greeted him with a knowing smirk. Your face.
He admired everything of yours that he could see. Your eyes. Your smile. The blush that only slightly betrayed your intimidating gaze. You were gorgeous. You were everything he wanted, and he wanted you a lot.
When you opened your mouth to speak, he hung on to your every word, finally being able to match the familiar voice to the new face. “That radio station you listen to knows me as ‘The Maneater’, but my real name is Y/N.”
“Y/N…” Michael softly tested your name on his tongue. “You look amazing…”
You chuckled at his compliment, holding a hand up to cover your growing smile. “You flatter me, Michael." You caressed his face in your gloved hands, leaning in closer until your forehead rested against his.
Michael could feel himself growing desperate. He could feel your hands on him, your breath intermingling with his against his mouth, and your gaze as it remained unwavering from his face. He would stare into those eyes for hours if his nerves allowed him to. He wanted nothing more than to pull you on top of him and beg you to take him.
Instead, all he could muster was a soft plea. “T- Touch me… Please…”
A sinister smirk tugged at your lips. “You want me to touch you?” You softly slid a hand up his thigh. “Like this?”
Michael almost felt dizzy under your touch. “Mmh… I need more…”
“More?” You jumped up onto the bed and crawled onto him, straddling his thighs. “You’re a needy thing, aren’t you?” You softly chuckled. “Luckily for you, I want the same things you do.”
Suddenly, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, grinding against the bulge that strained against the front of his jeans. He moaned at the friction, granting your tongue access to his mouth as you pulled him closer.
It was hot. Incredibly hot. Every inch of his skin burned for more of you, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer. He felt sweat building on his brow as his impatience grew. He whined as he bucked his hips into yours, drawing a soft moan from your lips.
You pulled away from the kiss, briefly staying connected to Michael by a string of saliva. “You’re as tasty as you are pretty. I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough of you.”
Michael felt a wave of both pride and embarrassment as he shyly looked away. If he wasn’t already heavily blushing, he definitely would have been now.
You began to trail kisses along his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as you made your way to his collar. He felt a sudden draft over his skin as you finally opened his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders. The fabric collected behind his back, but the warmth of his wrists underneath the bunched material couldn’t compare to the warmth of his skin against yours.
Casting your gloves aside, you began to feel around on his chest. Michael hoped, for a moment, that you couldn’t feel how his heart pounded. Your kisses began to grow more possessive as you sucked on the sweet spot on his neck. He was sure it would visibly bruise by morning, but he didn’t care. He wanted you to mark him. To lay claim to him. He wanted you to leave reminders of what was happening that night all over his body.
You then slid your hands down to his belt, undoing it before freeing his aching cock from the confines of his jeans. He anxiously bit his lip as you closely examined his length, the tip dripping with precum.
“So hard for me,” You breathed, your fingers teasing the weeping tip.
“P- Please…” Michael mewled, tears of desperation prickling in his eyes.
It was then that you finally gave in, moving off of his lap to strip off your black cloak, before letting your equally dark bra and panties fall to join the pool of clothes at your feet. Michael’s eyes scoured over every inch of your skin–your thighs, your stomach, your breasts–before meeting your own. His hands were eager to reach out and touch you, but the faint rattling sound from behind his back reminded him that his hands were still bound.
“Don’t lose your patience now, Michael.” You playfully tutted as you returned to his lap. “We’re almost there.” You began lining yourself up with him, teasing his tip between your slick folds. “Feel that? That’s how you made me feel tonight. I meant it when I said I had a lot of fun chasing you.” Everything you were saying was filthy and raw, and it only made Michael all the more desperate for you.
He whined, words escaping him. “Mh… Please…”
Leaning forward, you kissed him again as you finally let him inside. He felt his eyes roll back as your inner walls surrounded his throbbing cock. You moaned into his mouth as he slowly filled you.
Once you broke the kiss, you began to move your hips, setting a brutal pace as you allowed Michael’s length to slide in and out of you. He watched the way your breasts bounced with each thrust of your hips. Your head was only slightly tilted back as you shamelessly moaned aloud, your eyes unmoving from his face
Michael’s mind grew hazy. All he could think about was how good your tight cunt felt around his cock… and it felt good. The wet sounds your movements created faded into background noise as your pornographic moans became the only sound he could hear clearly.
“Mh- Ohhh…” He could feel warm tears spilling over his cheeks, but he couldn’t care about how he looked anymore. He was too lost in ecstasy. “So good- Ah!”
“Oh, Michael,” Between thrusts, your voice sounded smooth. Almost hypnotizing. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me.” You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away a tear with your thumb as the stream continued.
“It feels too good…” He imagined it would be the only coherent sentence he would form that night.
“You make me feel good, too, pretty boy.” You grunted as you clenched around him, earning another whine from him.
The pressure was mounting quickly. Michael could feel it. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his release was so close. He just needed that one push to send him over the edge. Just a little more.
“Gonna cum already?” You teased as a light sheen of sweat formed on your brow. “You have such a sensitive cock. I can’t wait to milk it for every drop you have.”
“Please!” Michael choked as you leaned in to kiss his tear-streaked cheek.
“Awww. You really want to cum?” You immediately stopped your movements. “Not just yet, pretty boy.”
Michael choked out a sob as you edged him. “P- Please!” He attempted to buck his hips as tears spilled unceasingly over his cheeks. “Please, I want to cum! Please!”
“Poor thing…” You cooed, holding his hips down to remain unwavering in your stillness. “You’re really desperate, hm?”
Michael quickly nodded his head. In that moment, he was willing to do anything to be able to taste that sweet release you were keeping from him. His squirms of discomfort only seemed to spur you on, the sinister grin on your face growing with each whine that escaped his throat.
“Please…” Michael persisted. “Please, let me cum.”
You gave him a quick peck on the lips before giving in. “You’re lucky you’re sexy when you beg.”
You began riding him again, setting a more intense pace than before. You gripped his shoulders for leverage as you full-force fucked him, unrelenting in your motions.
“Mm- I- I-” Michael’s voice curled into whimpers as he neared his peak again. “M’cumming… C- Cumming!”
“Cum for me, Michael.” You softly ordered. “Let me feel you cum inside me.”
“I- I- Ah!” Michael finally hit his breaking point, and his cock twitched, filling you with his release as his moans grew in volume.
You helped him ride out his sigh, his orgasm bringing you to your own, and your praise remained unceasing as you came. “That’s it, Michael. Mmh… Fill me up just like that. Oh, yes… That feels so good… My pretty boy.”
As you both came down from your highs, Michael leaned his head back against the headboard of the bed, panting as his brain remained hazy from post-orgasm bliss. He just noticed your own heavy breathing right before you pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was softer. More affectionate than passionate.
Once you pulled away, you breathlessly smiled. “Don’t get too comfortable, Michael. I’m not done with you just yet~”
“Wh- What…” His voice trailed off, the question remaining unfinished as you trailed your kisses along his jaw.
“I’m gonna keep you busy for a while.” You whispered against his ear, making him shudder. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I’m gonna milk you for every drop you have.”
Michael bit his lip as your inner walls clenched around his cock. This is gonna be a long night…
#halloween#spooky season#halloween fanfic#horror fanfiction#michael afton x reader#michael afton#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanfic#michael afton x female reader#michael afton smut#fnaf smut
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NSFW ABC - Michael Myers
18+ MDNI - AN: reader is gender neutral/no pronouns. CW: really soft c n c - domination + BD SM - violence and gore - knife play - choking, slapping etc - slight voyeurism
I reeeeealllllly enjoyed writing this one even though Michael isn't even my fave (sorry mm fans)
A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) - A little cold and awkward at first but eventually he'll put an arm around you and just accept you cuddling up to him.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) - He's come to love his eyes. He always thought of his stare as cold and monstrous, another weapon for him to use, but the way you look straight into his soul and aren't scared away is something he adores. The same goes for you, he loves your eyes, how innocent they can be. Looking at the world with kindness and seeing beauty where he couldn't.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) - He's kind of a neat freak so he doesn't like leaving a mess. He'll lick up every drop from you until you're ready to cum all over again. He loves forcing his load down the back of your throat so you have to swallow every last drop.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - He doesn't keep these things secret because he's ashamed, they're just things you haven't discovered yet. He'll watch you through your windows, he'll follow you to make sure you're okay. He'll take your underwear with him so it's like you're always there and after a killing he'll wrap them round his cock and and masturbate with them. He does have a fantasy of following you after work at night and grabbing you aside to have his way with you but he doesn't want to scare you off.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) - He's seen people having sex but until now he's never done it himself. I feel like he's tried to with victims but with all the screaming he just ends up shutting them up with a knife to the vocal chords and not bothering. Let's face it, he doesn't really have the social skills.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) - Anything dominant. As boring as it sounds he really does love missionary and the way he grabs your wrists with one hand and your throat with the other, nothing could be hotter.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) - He has his funny little moments but he's very deadpan (remember the sheet with the glasses, he's a goofy boy.)
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) - He keeps things quite trim down there. Same goes for his nails, beard etc and he has a little shower routine 👉👈 Gets his soap and washcloth, his razor and his towel neatly folded ready for a bath after a night of killing. I like to imagine that he's interested in your face masks and you rope him into doing them every week. It's come to be something he secretly really enjoys.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) - He's quite cold and domineering, pushing and pulling you into whatever position he wants you in. But occasionally in these moments of lust he'll brush the hair out of your face or linger on your lips a little longer after you kiss him. It's these moments you know, that he's never shared with anyone else, that are him showing his love to you in a way so deep he can't express it verbally.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) - We already know about the underwear situation but other than that he doesn't masturbate much. He has a mutual masturbation kink where he'll pretend to hide in the wardrobe and watch you walk over to your bed, pleasuring yourself and calling out his name gripping the sheets as you reach your climax. All the while he's tucked away amongst your clothes pumping furiously to your moans.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) - Domination. BDSM. He loves to control you, have power over you and see you helplessly tied up waiting to receive whatever he's about to do to you. He loves knife play. Tracing his blade up and down, gently at first and then more and more, drawing blood from your soft supple skin. Hearing you whimper as he slices gently into you, knowing you can't see for the blindfold. Choking you, edging you, getting to the point of breaking you and that's when he'll untie you, free you of your bonds and give you your release.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) - Pretty much just in the house as he thinks of it as your territory, mainly in the bedroom but also the living room. He'll walk in covered in blood, knife dropping to the floor and stride over to where you're cosied up on the couch reading a book and you get butterflies knowing what's about to go down.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) - After a kill can be a nerve wracking time for him because he has all this excess energy to get out and one way he knows to is to have you. He tends to worry that he'll hurt you as he kind of blacks out during these periods but the touch of your hand on his face brings him back to reality and you always know just what to do to help him get his release.
N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs) - He is never letting the tables get turned on him. There's no way you're going to be tying him up and dominating him. Any time you try and tease him by pulling away from his cock and giving the head soft kisses, looking up at him with knowing eyes, he'll grab your hair and use you to finish himself off making you gag on his length as punishment.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) - He tends to prefer getting head over giving it but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy going down on you too. He tends to prefer using his hands over his mouth so he can choke and slap you as you cum.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) - Fast, hard and powerful. He knows how to use slow strokes to drive you insane, using his overwhelming strength to hold your hips in place so you can't take control.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) - He comes across things in victims homes that he'll tell you about as a "What is this?" and "How do we use it?". If he likes the sound of it you'd order one of your own to play with and you notice on the days when you're waiting for it to arrive he's the one sprinting to the door when the post arrives. The disappointment on his still face is so obvious to you when it's just a bill in his hands, he shoves it over a little rougher than he meant.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) - Michael is actually very careful with you. He's very methodical when setting up and he's aware of the human body. He's aware that he's much stronger than the average man, he knows how much is too much. Sometimes getting you tied up takes so long that's the part he loves. Slowly moving around the room while you're lying there helpless and blindfolded, not knowing when he's going to attack. Sometimes he never does and lets you lie there dripping.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) - He has inhuman strength and regeneration powers so he could literally go forever. Honestly it's over when he's done. Sometimes it's quick and he's satisfied. Sometimes a victim gets away or he's interrupted and he needs the whole night to take out his frustrations on you.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) - You might mention things to him, explain what you want to try out and he'd be more than happy to oblige. You soon realised he has a way with being dominant and favours having control over you. Whether it's through mental games or physical means. He particularly likes edging you with vibrators etc while you're tied up.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) - He likes playing games with you. Not overtly sexual, telling you to stay put and wait for him until he gets back which turns out to be hours later. You're so grateful to finally see him and get your reward but he goes to the bathroom to clean up and you can't do anything but stand there, aching for him.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) - He's fairly quiet but as he thrusts harder his breathing gets heavier, moaning briefly into your skin, growling even, like a low purr.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) - He's very protective of you and he'll tail you when you're going to work etc. You won't notice him at first but after a little while you'll catch on but keep it to yourself because it makes him feel needed and you appreciate the gesture.
X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) - He's fairly lean, very strong with a somewhat toned body. He's LONG, like even when he's soft he's packing!!
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) - He's not a super cuddly and affectionate person but he is pretty needy when it comes to you. Once he starts exploring with you and knowing what you like he wants it a lot. It's a good outlet for him but he also loves to make you feel good.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward) - He often stays awake for a while, lying there while you fall asleep on his chest. He's a bit on alert after being so vulnerable and he wants to protect you and your space so he stays up for a bit and maybe wanders around the house whilst being butt ass naked of course.
#my writing#michael myers#halloween fanfic#michael myers x reader#michael myers x y/n#horror x reader#slasher x reader#slasher fucker#monster fucker#halloween smut#michael myers smut#monsters#horror#movies#horror fanfiction#fanfic
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Ahkmenrah x Reader: Sarcophagus
Word Count: 1,276
Warnings/Notes: Jump scare via Ahkmenrah yelling and the Reader not expecting that at all.
Summary: The Reader is cataloging in the museum past closing, they are surprised to see the sarcophagus of the pharaoh Ahmenrah shaking and someone yelling from within it. Will the Reader stay to figure things out, or will a night guard find them first before they can truly help Ahk?
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The echo of footsteps came and went. Some lingered with more interest than others. It was the usual sound of a museum. Quiet murmuring of the exhibits and the curiosities the guests held for anything unusual or a spark of amazement.
The Museum of Natural History held such wonder. Though the amount of visitors came in few as years went by, that statistic never curved your interest. Which was all the more reason why you found yourself there presently.
You had checked your watch again as it neared the time of closing. But with such interest and focus, it was easy to lose track of time. The object of your gaze for the past couple of hours resided in the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. Within it, the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah and a collection of his belongings, found in his tomb alongside him decades ago.
Sketching in the next hieroglyph into your notebook, you were determined to complete one more row before leaving for the night. It may not be the most exciting task to the others, especially to anyone who noticed, but you enjoyed it. Honestly, you would not be doing it if you dreaded it. Not everyone could say the same, you were thankful that you could.
As the hieroglyphs began to fill another line on the page, you muttered to yourself. It was a thought, that perhaps you should have left enough space on the page between the lines for your translations. At least it was merely a minor inconvenience.
Unknowingly to you through your mutterings, the golden tablet displayed on the wall above began to glow.
The sun had set. The exhibits within the museum started to awaken for the night. Every night like the one before. You, however, were the only difference. Completely focused, and yet utterly oblivious.
Kneeling down, you inspected the last hieroglyph. Or, at least, the last one to draw for the day. “I can’t believe they took this out of a tomb,” you grumbled to yourself, “I guess it was easier for them to clear out and transport these magnificent archeological finds than create a replica. Display purposes and no doubt—”
“AHHHH!”
“AHH!” You spun onto the floor in fright. Looking for the ongoing source of your initial panic, you saw no one behind you. No one except the sarcophagus. The shaking sarcophagus.
This was not a case of caffeine jitters or accidentally falling asleep during work. No, the confines of the sarcophagus were indeed yelling and the pins holding the lid on were rattling as fast as your heart.
Had you entered a scene in a horror movie, or was someone pulling an elaborate trick on you? If the latter, you were sure to exchange some professionally heated words with them. Tampering with a mummy that needed proper care to remain well preserved required the utmost respect.
Thinking more about a sneaky trick, you frowned. “Stop shouting.”
All sounds ceased.
Peering around, you expected at least one other person to come jogging into the Temple room to free their colleague. But silence remained.
Slowly, you stood to your feet and walked forward. “I’m crazy.” As you looked down upon the golden face, your breath caught. Could you have been imagining all of this? “Just…don’t scare me this time,” you requested in a small voice.
“My apologies,” a muffled voice spoke earnestly from within the sarcophagus.
“I am crazy,” you sighed. “I’m talking to an ancient mummy in a museum.”
“I am Ahkmenrah. Fourth King of the Fourth King, Ruler of the land of my fathers. Please, release me.”
“And you’re…alive? How?” You asked, absolutely dumbfounded.
“My tablet, it brings life to everything in this museum at night.”
Turning around, you tilted your head curiously. The tablet of Ahkmenrah. Made of solid gold, it was seen as the most prized possession within the entire collection. Even more than the pharaoh himself.
“Why are you trapped? Have you not told either of the night guards?”
Though muffled through his wrappings and his sarcophagus, you could clearly identify sorrow when you heard it.
“I do not truly know. I have called out each night for years, but to no prevail”
“Alright,” you took a steadying breath. Stepping over to your right, you aligned the palms of your hands with the side of the stone slab. It was the original lid to the rectangular coffin, but was placed in such a way to have the decorative face of the sarcophagus on display. “This goes against my better judgement…and my favorite 1999 film.”
Pushing against the heavy block, it hardly budged. With a shift of your feet, you got better footing. “Come on,” you strained, putting as much of your body weight into your effort as possible.
One more try, and your shoe slipped, squeaking beneath you as your chest hit the lid. “Ah,” you winced. Shaking your head slowly, winded. You stood back up/straighter. “I’m sorry—I…I’m not strong enough.”
Ahkmenrah was silent. Not a shake of his voice or embellished lid.
“Maybe I can get a friend of mine, a colleague, to help me tomorrow night,” you offered, making your way back over to his golden likeness. “Would that be all right?”
“Yes. That would be wonderful,” he replied. A lightness that was not in his voice before, shined.
“I don’t want you to feel alone otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
Before you could add any more to the conversation, you stopped. Footsteps from the hall outside made its way into the room. And then a voice. Polite yet firm in acknowledging your presence.
“It’s past closing,” he announced, making your head snap up in his direction.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” you stood straighter, “I guess I just lost track of time.”
The light glinted off of his white hair as he stepped up to the small roped off barricade in front of the case. “Admiring history will do that to you,” he nodded.
“Yes.” Internally, you hesitated, but dared not show it. You were given permission to be there. It was a part of your profession.
His brows rose. “Getting acquainted with the pharaoh?”
“Yes, I just had to admire him for a little while longer—after cataloging the hieroglyphs, of course.”
“Yes, of course.”
Remembering, you turned around to retrieve your notebook and pen. Hastily, you stashed them away into your bag. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know you gentlemen have a very important job to do.” Standing back up, you avoided taking a glance at Ahkmenrah’s tablet. You were not sure of the night guards’ reasons for keeping the pharaoh locked away, but you did not want to venture into such a conversation at the moment.
“Here, I’ll walk you out,” he offered when you turned back around/toward him.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Holding your bag closer to yourself, you quietly walked between the two lines of the pillars. You kept to yourself all the more when eerie crackling sounds from the tall Anubis statues reached your ears. Chills ran over your skin.
Leaving the Temple of Ahkmenrah exhibit, you played the ignorance card hard. With your notebook back in your hand, you kept your eyes down. Trained to the paper in front of your face, you ignored every sound and movement. And as you reached the revolving doors at the front of the museum, you were certain that you could not ‘accidentally’ stay late again. Something was going on in that museum, but no one else knew. You could only hope to find a suitable reason to be near Ahkmenrah after hours again. Your curiosity and perhaps his sanity depended on it.
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Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out my Masterlist for more fanfictions :)
#ahkmenrah#natm fandom#natm#ahkmenrah x reader#ahkmenrah x you#ahkmenrah fanfic#ahkmenrah fanfiction#ahkmenrah insert reader#night at the museum#night at the museum x reader#night at the museum fanfiction#night at the museum fanfic#halloween fanfic#halloween fanfiction#natm ahkmenrah
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Sweet Dreams - PT 3 End
It took me forever to finish this and I apologize, I had to scrap and redo this story line so many times because I wasn't happy with it. Finally, I'm happy with it.
Happy Halloween my loves! I hope you enjoy.
Mini series featuring our OG Tenjiku men. All characters are aged up. Our Tenjiku men are...INCUBI!
NO MINORS - MDNI!
Warnings: smut, m!oral, fingering, unprotected sex, thigh riding, monster fucking (kind of....maybe...), slight angst at the end, death. Sorry if I missed anything!
PT 1, PT 2
Dinner Is Served
You were scrambling around the grocery store trying to look for something to put together for dinner tonight. Izana asked you to surprise him, so there really wasn’t any indication of what he wanted to eat. While standing in the aisle, you were scrolling down a list of recipes. A large hand was placed over your shoulder and you squeaked in surprise almost dropping your phone. Spinning around to face a tall figure, you see Mucho behind you. His large frame and threatening presence would have anyone else quivering but you relaxed and smiled at him. “Ready for tonight?” His smirk was poking fun at you, you looked flustered - he saw a distracted female figure when he was passing by the aisle. He knew it was you by your scent - it was imprinted on him.
“I um-no.” You sigh in defeat as your shoulders hung low. It was hard, you wanted to make something delicious, you wanted him to like your cooking, you wanted him to be satisfied and not force himself to eat something he doesn’t like. “Help me.” You say in almost a plea, you clung on to his arm - he was thrown off by your sudden actions. He had to make sure that he didn’t accidently lure you. Nope, it was all you. “What the hell are you doing?” Another voice questioned you two from down the aisle. It was Mochizuki - he was concerned that Izana might pop out of nowhere and see this little private moment. You turned to look at him and ran to cling on to his arm as well while dragging Mucho behind you. “Help me Mochi, please!” It was the funniest thing to see a tiny little thing haul two of the tallest Tenjiku members around like they were ragdolls. “I don’t know what to make for him tonight, what does he like? What does he eat? IS there something I need to steer clear from?” You were going on and on with questions that you hardly notice Shion now in the mix. Well, that is until you felt a hand on your lower back. Now you had three men being dragged around with you at the grocery store. They ended up carrying your groceries and accompanying you back home.
You thanked them and promised them a dinner or favor in return for their help today. The coy smirks on their faces hinted at taking you up on that favor.
You began prepping and decided to take a risk - it was something foreign and yet it was a comfort food that reminded you of a trip abroad. By 18:30, Izana was already at your doorstep and proceeded to ring the doorbell. “Coming!” He could hear you yell from the other side of the door. When you opened the door, you were taken back by the small bouquet of flowers that he held in his hands. “Couldn’t come empty handed…” He said with a playful tone on his tongue. They were beautiful, red azaleas (rhododendrons) - their color stood out against the black button up he was wearing and oldly matched his earrings. “Thank you, they are gorgeous.” You said and smiled, he could almost see the hearts in your eyes when you took them. It made him chuckle, some women really do like the simpler things in life - all his past playthings usually looked disappointed to receive flowers, they wanted extravagant gifts. After stepping inside, you set the flowers in a glass vase with water and guided him to the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind eating something rather light for tonight.” You say while setting the table. Izana’s eyes trailed up and down your figure as you walked back and forth between the kitchen and the table. The midi skirt and button up blouse made you look so innocent, a stark difference to how you are in your dreams. “Need help?” His voice was almost in your ear and made you gasp. He was leaning over you to take a look inside the pan and smiled when you looked up at him. Those cute little doe eyes of yours were making it hard for him to keep his composure. How could you stay so calm around them? Was it that you were already used to their presence? “Sure, wanna get the drinks? I have wine, water and soft drinks.” Oh you just sealed your fate, he opted for wine and he knew just which bottle to grab when he opened your cabinet. The bottle of Barrel X Riesling paired well with tonight’s dinner.
Finally, it was time to eat. Izana had already poured the wine and took a seat at the table, he smirked at you when you set his plate down - you were in for it. There was a slight nervousness that bubbled up, you were confident of your cooking skills but cooking for someone else was rare. “I hope you’re ok with it, please let me know if you don’t and I can try making something else or we can go out for dinner instead-” He cut you off with a chuckle, “This is fine, I’m sure it will taste great.” You were waiting for him to take the first bite, you wanted to see his facial expression - would he like it? It was as if everything was going in slow motion, your eyes were focused on his lips. The moment his mouth wrapped around the utensil you braced yourself for impact. There was almost a glow in his eyes, he took a second bite and then a third. Izana was eating your food.
“Where did you learn to cook like this? It tastes amazing.” He says with a cheeky smile. The stress melted away, you were glad he liked it. “I watched a lot of cooking shows as a kid and fell in love with food - please try it with the wine.” You suggested and began to eat. Small conversations about work and life made their way to the table. Things were going smoothly, well that is until you felt the warmth of the wine creeping up your cheeks. After dinner, you began to set the plates in the sink and Izana offered to wash the dishes for you but you refused - that’s why you have a dishwasher. Leaving them in the sink was just to avoid spending time arranging the dishes, you wanted to spend time with him.
Throughout the night there were subtle hints, you both took a seat on the couch while sipping on the rest of the wine. For some background noise, you turned on the TV and just let it run on a random channel. Curiosity began to gnaw at you, his scent was intoxicating and made you feel rather lightheaded. “So, how do you like living in this cozy little neighborhood?” You ask while taking a sip. Izana smiled and leaned back into the couch. “I like it, it's nice, not too far from public transportation, I have a really amazing neighbor…” Wait, what? Was he referring to the woman who was all over their place when they first moved in? There is a woman on the opposite side of Izana's place that loves to…well, be more than just a neighbor. You don't blame her, the men next door are handsome, it's not like they are yours. “Ah, are you referring to the lady in 311?” You ask, there was a tinge of disappointment on your tongue. He chuckled. “Yeah, she's nice.” Oof, did that sound rather sarcastic?
���You idiot, I’m talking about you.” Izana said and leaned in close to you. The sudden action made your heart pound. “(Y/N), I don’t know what you are but you…draw us in.” He said and cupped your cheek. There was a glow in his eyes that made warmth pool between your legs. His breath fanned your lips and the light scent of alcohol made you slowly lean in. Both of you had shaky breathing, the anticipation was killing you both - as your lashes fluttered and your eyes closed…
“Breaking news this evening! Two women’s bodies were found in an abandoned building. Police say that this is a growing problem in the area of Yokohama.” The sound of the TV caught your attention, making you pull away from Izana. Fuck, he was so close! “(Y/N)...” He said and tried to catch your attention. “Did you hear that? I think this is the fourth body this week.” You say and raise the volume. Damn, did you just…ignore his lure? “The women have been identified as (x female) and (y female).” The announcement made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. However, Izana looked just as concerned as you did. Something wasn’t right. “Oh my god.” You say and clasp your hands over your face. Izana turned to look at you, the look of pure shock and fear plagued your beautiful features.
They were women that worked in the same office building as you. “(Y/N)...did you know them?” Izana asks carefully. Turning to look at him, the look in his eyes was sincere with a glint of concern. You shook your head, they were only people you would say good morning to when you caught the elevator together. “No, but they worked in the same building as me. I would see them every day...how awful.” As the news broadcast continued, they revealed that they were last seen with two men. The description was vague but something didn’t sit right. Something…something just sounded a little too familiar. Trying to ease your mind Izana lowered the volume and cupped your hands in his. Bringing them up to his lips, he kissed them and spoke softly. “If you want, one of us can meet you at the station or even at work.” He was being genuine, the increasing amount of violence in the downtown areas were concerning, not even Tenjiku could control the outer borders despite their size and strength. New gangs were beginning to pop up to try and take over Yokohama and the Shibuya areas. Though he could give two shits about Shibuya or Shinjuku - it would eventually become an issue for Yokohama if those gangs bleed on Tenjiku turf.
For a moment you felt your heart skip, Izana just made you realize that he kissed your hands and was oh so close. Blush dusted your face and heat began to spread through your body. Looking up to meet his eyes, you felt it… That uncontrollable desire to lean in and close the distance. His lips curved into a smile, his eyes seemed to drown you in anticipation and his touch felt like fire. “I won’t let anyone hurt you…” He whispered and slowly closed the distance between your faces. The closer he got, the more warmth pooled in places that yearned to be touched. Izana’s orbs seemed to glow the more you looked into his eyes. You hardly noticed his hands caressing your cheek, it only became apparent when he pulled you in to place a kiss on your plush lips. He tasted like sweet wine and sin.
His kiss felt like electricity, the single spark lured you like a moth to a flame. Izana nibbled on your bottom lip, he wanted for you to give him permission to taste you. With a soft moan, you parted your lips and granted him access. Even though he’s kissed you in your dreams, it didn’t feel the same as it did now - this was truly heaven. Soft moans bled through the passionate kisses, you could barely breathe. His arms were snaking their way around your body and left trails of fire.
Trying to speak between kisses you end up moaning for him. “Izana… Mhn…” His tongue kept overwhelming yours - he was giving you goosebumps. Your hands made haste and quickly undid the buttons of his shirt. He was just too hard to resist right now. What am I doing? I can't stop myself. You think to yourself as you run your hands along his chest. He was toned and the moment you lowered yourself to place kisses on his chest you were hit with his scent. It was like a neurotoxin that kept altering your train of thought. That rich grapefruit, tuberose and cedarwood had you under a spell. “(y/n), if we go any further… you might not live to see tomorrow.” Izana's tone was heavy as he pants and cups your face, tilting your head upwards to meet his eyes. The only things reflected in your orbs were lust, hunger and just a tinge of fear. The fear stemmed not from what he said but from what you're feeling. You’ve never felt like this before, you wanted him… Bad.
“Izana… I want you.” You manage to say while dipping your hands south to his zipper. The glow in his eyes seemed to get brighter as you unzipped his pants and reached for his member. His breath hitches at the warmth of your hands, his member was twitching and throbbing as you gaze upon it. Hungry eyes were devouring every vein, every inch and every drop of precum that leaked from his tip. It's as if you were hypnotized, the hearts in your eyes only grew bigger as your hand stroked him and his essence dripped down his slit. It was heavy in your hands, everything that a girl could ask for - length, girth, a red flushed tip. Without even asking him, your tongue took one long and slow swipe from the base of his cock to the very tip. Tasting him and basking at the sweetness that coated your tongue you moaned softly, Izana didn't want you to stop. “Oh fuck, (y/n)...” He moaned out your name and lightly bucked his hips. Who would have known that the sweet and shy girl next door was a minx?
The moment you took his length in your mouth he threw his head back in pleasure. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds. Without warning you took him deeper into your mouth, his tip was hitting the back of your throat and he let out the sweetest moan. You had no control of yourself, the intoxication was beyond your understating - desire kept burning the threads of self-control. To be honest, if someone were to walk in on you two now - it would look like you were holding him hostage.
Izana’s hand ran through your hair, stopping at the base of your neck and gripped it. His moans were getting louder as you bobbed your head, tasting him nice and slow. “Ngh…such a good girl…” He barely manages to say when you swirl your tongue over his tip. His chest heaved and his heart was pounding nonstop, the love and attention you were giving his cock was making him fall in love. Who would have known that you were hiding such…talents. As you gazed up at him, you could see his eyes were at half mast, glossy and filled with lust.
Stroking his member as you sucked had his thighs quivering. He’s always been the one to break the other person but here he was on the verge of making you swallow his seed. Locking eyes with him only made you go faster, his gorgeous expressions and reactions made you almost melt. Silver strands were sticking to his face and his hips were beginning to thrust into you. There was just no way to stop yourself, Izana just tasted so good and you had no intention of stopping just here. “Ahn…fuck.” Izana moans out loud as he feels your tongue massaging his length. His stomach would flex each time you hit a sensitive spot and you wanted to see him finish. You needed him to finish in your mouth, to feed you everything he’s got.
Each time his tip hit the back of your throat, you’d moan and clench instinctively. Izana’s lewd whimpers were making fire in your belly. To see him in this state was priceless. Those beautiful long white lashes were fluttering, his eyes were glossy, his lips parted - he looked so gorgeous that you thought it was all a dream. “Just like that (Y/N), just like that…oh fuck” He moans, you could feel the rumbling in his chest when your hand kept him pinned down on the couch. Picking up the pace, you hollow your cheeks and stroke him - adding more pleasure to his already sensitive cock. The vibrations from your moans had Izana lightly bucking his hips, he wanted you to devour him whole. For once a human was making him see stars.
“(Y/N)...I’m gonna cum…” Izana says while pulling you impossibly close to him. He threw his head back and his vision went white as his coil snapped and feral moans were escaping his pretty lips while his essence was going down your throat. Never have you tasted anyone so sweet. There was so much that his cum was dripping down the corners of your mouth. Thick white ropes dripped down your chin to the floor. After draining him, he released you and his member came out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. Licking your lips, you indulged in his taste - he was addicting.
His chest was heaving as he was coming down from his high. You remained on your knees waiting for him like a good girl to be given praise or instructions on what to do next. Izana slowly opened his eyes, he was in a daze. Without a second thought, he pulled up off the floor and sat you on his lap. “I warned you…” He said in a low and heavy tone. He was making you puddy in his hands. His hands slipped under your skirt and in between your thighs. Izana could feel lace and oh how the slick dripped down his knuckles when he thrusted two fingers inside you. All this excitement from just giving him head? He loved it, you were different from other women, you were burning with desire. Your hands wrapped themselves around his neck and your lips crashed into his. The kiss was hungry and rough, biting his lip only made him thrust quicker and deeper. Beads of sweat were rolling down the sides of your faces, the heat created in this space fogged up the windows and the room was thick with sin.
A jolt of pleasure was felt when he pressed his palm against your clit. The sweetest moan escaped your throat. “You wanna cum, my little dove?” Izana’s tone was low and coy, he was sending shivers down your spine and making your thighs quiver. With a shameless nod you proceeded to grind your hips into his palm. His left arm pulled you closer and held you in place so that you couldn’t move your hips. You tried to move your hips but he did not budge, making you whimper and pout. “Answer me, (Y/N).” His menacing tone and piercing eyes made a knot in your stomach, you were about to cum just from hearing him talk to you like this. “Y-Yes! I want to cum!” You answer him pathetically and whine. Desperation was clawing at you, you needed release, you needed to satisfy the urge…you needed him.
Izana withdrew his fingers from your dripping cunt and popped them into your mouth. “Suck…” He demands and tears begin to line your waterline, you looked upset - you wanted his fingers inside you. When you proceeded to clean his digits, he forced your hips down onto his thigh. That glow in his eyes returned and he began to move your hips, grinding your heat against his thigh. “What’s wrong, love? You wanted my fingers to make you cum?” He says teasingly and smirks at you. Izana’s demeanor changed, he was being cruel but you couldn’t help but savor it. You hum in response, a subtle yes. “Or maybe… you wanted something more?” He teases you. Quickening the pace of your hips, your eyes gloss over and drool begins to drip down your chin. He chuckles coyly and drinks in your expressions, you were caught between no - out of shame and yes out of desire.
Riding his thigh, you could feel your coil tighten and knots in your stomach - you were desperate. The hand that was on your hips moved north to your chest and popped the buttons of your blouse. To see the lacey bra you had on gave him an idea that you were looking forward to this more than he was. “Aww, for me? You shouldn’t have.” His brazen tone had stars forming in your vision. When he pulled the cup down, he toyed with the pebbled nub and licked his lips. Barely being able to keep it together, your hips couldn’t stop - he felt the slick seep through the cloth. Just a little more and you’d make a mess all over him. “Tell me… are these the types of dreams you’ve been having with them? Hmm?” Oh he hit the nail on the head. These were in fact the types of dreams you’ve been having with each Tenjiku member. Whether it was the Haitani Brothers, Shion, Mucho, Mochi or Kakucho - your body craved their touch. Some dreams were innocent with kisses and light groping - others were a little more illicit. However, the thing was that to you they were innocent wet dreams. For them, it was as real as the sun and moon.
Your blush deepened. The moment you were to shake your head no, Izana stuck his fingers further down your throat, making you gag around them. “No? You haven’t been having wet dreams about us?” He was humiliating you and putting you on the spot. The tears streaming down your face only further lit the fire inside him. The arm that pulled the lace cup down, returned to its original position and wrapped itself around your waist. Pushing you down harder against his thigh, he shifted a little on the couch - raising his knee. It’s at that moment that you felt a jolt of electricity. He leaned in to kiss your chest and traced his tongue around your nipple, the cool air gave you goosebumps. When he began to suck and lightly bite down, your vision went white and your moans got louder and louder, they were almost screams of pure bliss and pleasure. Izana had you cumming like never before, your body felt ecstasy for the first time.
His whole thigh was soaked in your juices. Your body slowed it pace and then stopped, Izana had to help steady you - you were so close to collapsing. The pounding in your chest was so loud that you couldn’t hear him, his muffled voice slowly got louder and louder. “(Y/N)?” You could barely respond to him, he noticed how dazed you were and nuzzled his face into your chest to listen to the sound of your heart beating. “We should stop…” He pouted and held you close. Knowing that he could end your life if he keeps going, Izana decided it was best not to go any further. As much as he wanted to feel your tight cunt clench around his length, he didn’t wanna hurt you and wanted to keep seeing you.
Weakly pouting, you beg him to fuck you. You beg him to put his length inside you. "N-no! Please, Izana…." You almost cry pathetically for him. What was wrong with you? You've never felt so needy for someone before, you were desperate for him and hearing him say those words made your chest hurt. The fire in your eyes only made it harder to resist the urge, Izana had to fight himself just to stand his ground. "We can't…" His whisper ended up pushing you to the edge. You cupped his chin and leaned in to place an ardent kiss on his lips. It was slow, sensual and full of desire. "Take me…" You say between kisses and move hips over him - you were no longer straddling his thigh. Feeling his member harden between your folds sent a shiver down your spine. The slow grind of your hips had his member throbbing, it needed attention now too.
Izana couldn't fight it anymore. He picked you up and took you to your bedroom, through the darkness he navigated your home as if he’s been here before. The moment he laid you down, he backed away into the darkness to close the door while removing his clothes. He looked like an angel, the moonlight from outside made his white hair stand out. When he was out of the light, you began to remove your clothing, excitement clinged on your every fiber. "I will miss you, (Y/N)... You're the one I didn't want to kill…" Being spellbound was no joke, you were too dazed to even comprehend what he said. As he emerges from the dark and into the moonlight, curved horns, fangs and wings now adorned his body. This was a first, showing his true form to you, even in dreams they remained in human form so that you wouldn’t fear them. However it only made you crave him even more. Izana crawls on top of you and hovers over you, he leans in, letting you gaze upon him, he was indeed still as beautiful as ever. "Are you afraid?" He asked and nuzzled his nose into your cheek. There was a small sense of dread inside him, he didn't want you to fear him, he wanted you to love him in his true form.
Caressing his face, your hands slowly make their way up to touch his horns, Izana flinches and closes his eyes in fear. Their texture was a little rough, you’ve never in your wildest dreams thought that fairytales and folklore like this would be true. Then it hit you. Your internet search for an explanation of the bruise like spots on your body came up with Incubi as one of the reasons. Your giggle made him open his eyes, the look on your face wasn’t of fear it was euphoric. The smile on your face confused him, did he break you or was this a moment before tragedy? “This explains the bruises on my skin when you first moved in.” Relief washed over him, this wasn’t the reaction he was expecting but he welcomed it. “Izana…you're beautiful.” Your confession made his heart skip a beat - for the first time in his life, he was called beautiful in his true form. “Are the others also…” You ask shyly. He hums a yes and begins to kiss your neck, his length would twitch and throb between your legs with each open mouthed kiss. There was no hesitation, no fear - only love and desire.
The moment his tip prodded your entrance, you felt the air snatched from your lungs, he was a lot to take in. “Ah…too big…” You whimper and clench the sheets. His hands searched for yours and he laced his fingers with yours, pinning them above you. Instinctively, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist and you braced yourself. “You can take me, right (Y/N)?” He says and hovers his face just above yours, those violet eyes were eating up your vulnerable expression. He knew he was going to put you in a word of pain with his next move. Izana reeled his hips back and thrusted his entire length inside your velvet walls. The immense pressure had tears welling in your eyes and you let out a loud moan. Trying to adjust to him was hard, he filled up your pretty cunt to the brim, you could feel the vein on his length and how it pulsed. Your walls clenched around him, wanting to spit him out but oh how it loved his cock bullying its way in.
His right hand brought your wrists together and kept them pinned down while his left hand snaked its way down your waist and hips. He was going to keep your hips in place as he thrusted slow and hard. “Come on my little dove, you can handle it - it’s what you wanted, yeah?” Izana’s sultry tone had your mind muddled with sweet sin and pain. A string of curses escapes your lips as you moan and bite your lip, trying to hold in the scream that was building up - fuck he was making your legs shake already. Nothing could have prepared you for the wave of pleasure that was setting in. When you pouted and lifted your head to ask for a kiss, he smirked and pulled away, “Answer me, (Y/N).” Your needy whimper and shaky ‘yes’ made him smirk and he crashed his lips on yours. Your spine was tingling and your chest was filled with warmth, his affectionate kiss and movements were an express ticket to heaven.
While distracted by the taste of his lips, you didn’t notice how his palm was now touching your lower abdomen. Well, that is until he pressed on it and you felt it, his cock was so deep that it was making belly bulge - you could hear him chuckle. When he pulled away so that you could catch your breath, he released your wrists and sat up on his knees. Izana looked like a prince - no, a king - who were you kidding? He looked like a fucking god. Being in such a heavy daze, you barely managed to hear him tell you to look down. Leaning up on your elbows, you take in the view and moonlight cascaded perfectly on your bodies. You could see his cock move in and out and how it created a belly bulge worthy of envy.
Your eyes widened and he could tell it excited you, your cunt clenched around him the moment your eyes landed on your lower belly. Drool started to slip from the corner of your mouth, he was fucking you stupid and your body couldn’t handle it. Seeing you all fucked out, he couldn’t help but pick up his pace. He wanted to see you break. Izana’s rough pace, had you throwing your head back in ecstasy and bliss - you were no longer able to control it. Your moans grew louder and your chest was heaving, you were struggling to breathe. It felt as if the energy was being drained from you. “I-Izana! I’m gonna cum…oh god.” You moan and pant. The next thing you knew his lips were on yours, he was devouring you - he too became a moaning mess. You caressed his face and brought him in closer. “I’m gonna miss you my little dove…” He says between kisses and ferally grunts, his release as close.
The unmistakable sensation ran down your spine and your vision went white. Your hands released him and gripped the bedsheets, you needed something, anything to hold on to. His hips stuttered as he painted your walls white. Both of you were left breathless and in a daze, your breathing slowed and he felt tears prick his eyes when he came down from his high. Your body stopped moving and felt limp. “...fuck.” Izana said as he pulled out and struggled to look up at you. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He said and rested his head into your chest and listened to the last beats of your heart. Izana realized that he had tears streaming down his face, this was a first - he’s never heard of any other incubi shedding tears after a meal. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at your lifeless body. It just looked like you were peacefully sleeping but he knew full well that you were gone. Even in death you remained beautiful. He brushed the hair away from your face and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight my love…” Izana says and leaves - he had to prepare his alibi and get the rest of Tenjiku to help him wash away all evidence that he was here. Nothing could prepare them for the aftermath of your death.
END
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@reiners-milkbiddies @anxious-chick
#tokyorev smut#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers#tenjiku#tenjiku izana#tenjiku smut#tenjiku fanfic#fantasy fic#fantasy fanfic#tokyorevengers#tr smut#izana#izana fanfic#izana kurokawa#izana kurokawa smut#mini fic#mini series#happy halloween#halloween fanfic#izana fantasy fanfic#spicy smut#smut
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Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat
main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter
summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.
warnings below the cut for your convenience
warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders
note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!
banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!
You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house.
Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house.
It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery.
As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head.
“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”
“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.
“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”
The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.
You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.
“Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms.
Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.
“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”
Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums.
“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”
“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head.
“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”
Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.
“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”
“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”
“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”
Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.
Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”
“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment.
You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away.
“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be.
“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.
You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.
“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats.
A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen.
“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”
“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.
Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.
Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor.
While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.
She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue.
Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage.
Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents.
Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.
Satisfaction brought it back.
A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor.
“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong.
You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.
A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.
“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”
The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”
You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.
Targaryens don’t camouflage well.
“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”
“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk.
Aemond does that too.
“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”
Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.
“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.”
You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.
“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.
Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.
“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.
“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”
“Why is it surprising?”
“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further.
You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.
“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.
“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”
“He’s not here.”
Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.
“Not here?”
“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”
“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you.
“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin.
“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”
“What do you mean?”
Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort.
“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.
“Yes,” you tell him.
“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”
You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.
“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist.
“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”
As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.
What exactly was he worried about?
Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids.
This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera.
Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.
“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you.
The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face.
“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.
Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers.
“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face.
Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth.
“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand.
Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk.
“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”
“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”
Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.
Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly.
“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”
“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout.
There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.
“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes.
“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes.
He’s back.
She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks.
“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer.
You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.
“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.”
Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone.
“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”
You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”
Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”
You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face.
My girls.
“I’m well,” you answer.
Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep.
Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.
Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.
“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”
“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.
“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.
“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.
In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand.
A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.
Helaena.
She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door.
The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway.
A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart.
There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.
But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.
You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood.
Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief.
His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse.
“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth.
“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.
You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear.
“That’s not Helaena.”
It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water.
“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”
You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.
Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself.
A groan echoes from down the hall.
Your grip on him tightens.
“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”
Your breathing stops.
Let them? Let what? Let who?
The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity.
You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.
“Y/N.”
What was that?
“Open your eyes.”
His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.
You open your eyes.
The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.
“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists.
“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.
Aemond’s expression is pained.
“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.
“What kind of things?”
“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.
You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.
It’s your choice.
Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.
“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”
note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).
if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!
ACP taglist: @aebi12 | @lokiofasgard12 | @darkenchantress | @echos-muses | @kaelatargaryen | @zenka69 | @heavenly1927 | @boofy1998 | @snh96 | @zillahvathek | @minttea07
bold means I could not tag!
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#aemond x reader#modern!aemond#modern!aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fic#halloween fic#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#modern au#halloween au#aemond targaryen#aemond series#hotd series#fanfic series#halloween fanfic#aemond fanfiction
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RZ!Michael Myers Masterlist
Fics:
A Night to Dismember - Michael Myers x Fem!Reader
Headcanons:
Imagines/Scenarios:
#rz!michael myers masterlist#michael myers masterlist#rz!michael myers#rob zombie michael myers#michael myers#rz michael myers x reader#michael myers x reader#michael myers x you#michael myers x y/n#yandere michael myers#yandere michael myers x reader#michael myers fanfiction#michael myers headcanons#michael myers imagines#halloween#halloween 2007#halloween franchise#halloween fanfic#slasher x reader#yandere slasher x reader#slasher community#slasher fandom#slasher fucker#slasher fanfiction
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❝ the seventh life ❞ — JJK (teaser)
— PAIRING: vampire!Jungkook x female!reader
— SUMMARY: ❝ Live forever. This is what the young and handsome Lord Jeon wanted. Just an eternal life whose beauty would remain forever. You were the key to keeping Jungkook's immortality, immortalizing his soul by sacrificing yours seven times. Seven reincarnations. Seven lives. ❞
— TYPE: dark, smut, angst | vampire!au, fantasy!au
— WARNINGS: Dark Vampire!Jungkook, Blood, Murders, Reincarnations, Sacrificial rituals (non-graphic), Selling the soul to the "Devil", Light Soulmates!AU, Light "I love you in every universe", Magic!AU, Witches, Non-classical representation of Vampirism (i'm sorry but that's my poetic freedom about vampires), Dark & Tragic Romance. Chapters will have individual warnings.
— NOTES: Here's the teaser for my first dark ff. I'm so excited for this series and I hope you guys like it too.
— CROSSPOSTING: ao3
• October 31, 2023 •
"(Y/N)! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"
Jungkook's hands were sweaty after his failed attempt to turn the doorknob. Time eroded, the ticking of the clock bringing to the surface his dark thoughts about his fate. About the curse of your soul. About his future death.
How could he have been so dumb? How could he not see the details from the beginning? How could he judge your intelligence again?
He failed. You already knew who he was.
But the problem was that he didn't know who you were. Not really, at least. Now, it was different from all of your other six lives. Now, you were ready to stop him. Ready to kill him.
“You won’t kill me again, Jungkook. It's your turn to die."
#jungkook scenarios#jungkook au#jungkook drabble#jungkook x female reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#halloween fanfic#bts x female reader#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts x you#bts au#bts ff#bts fanfic#jungkook dark#jungkook ff#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook bts#jeon jungkook#bts fic#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook series#bts series#bts dark#bts smut#bts halloween
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In Cold Blood (Pt. 2)
Warnings: Dub con, knife play, blood, smut/p in v-do i even need to say its 18+ (also dont do it with serial killers irl....you know this)
The pounding relentless beat of the club echoed out onto the pavement. The sidewalk under your feet seemed to shake with each new bass drop, lights from the floor to ceiling windows washed along the crowd waiting in line.
You stood single file, all asses and elbows waiting to get to the front velvet ropes. Your nerves were frayed, the last few weeks had been leading you up to this moment.
Once you had a photo of the killer with his mask it was easier than before to find snippets of him on local cctv camera footage. His steps were more traceable but you still didn’t know his motive.
The more you learned the less it made sense.
You'd tracked his wanderings for over a month now, the trail had gone cold but you had it on good authority he'd be here tonight. The Killer, looking for his next victim.
With some intense persuasion your team had allowed you to go under cover and act as bait to draw out the madman. Your skimpy dress and overall look blended you into the background of the crowd waiting in line.
You looked like you deserved to be there. Were meant to be there.
After god knows how long of waiting in line you finally were able to escape the chilly outdoors and feel the intense heat of the ravenous club before you.
Bright lights pooled the dance floor and if you had thought the outside was crowded this was even worse. How anyone managed to dance was beyond you but that wasn't why you were here.
Making your way to the bar in hopes of escaping the intense smells and rhythmic dancing to clear your head. A buzz from your phone got your attention.
One of your colleagues.
"He's there." Your heart beat increased its pace. Eyes darting around the mass of gyrating people but you couldn't see shit. Everyone was moving so erratically, it would be impossible to find him.
After a moments pause you wondered if maybe this was a wash and to call for backup and corner the bastard wherever he was here instead of coercing him to follow you somewhere private where an arrest could be made.
At that your phone buzzed again. What the fuck did they want?
Only this time it was a call. From an unknown number. He was here.
"Hello?"
"Detective. You look mouthwatering tonight." You gulped in response suddenly realizing this might be a bad idea but taking a shot from the bartender strengthened your resolve.
"Do I?"
"Oh yes. Have you come here to arrest me, Detective? Looking like that?"
"Maybe I came here for other things."
A long pause on the other end had you believing he had hung up until you heard a brief inhale on the end of the line.
"Is that so?"
"Will you turn me down?"
This was very dangerous. You were being reckless with your safety but if it drew him out and you had a chance to throw this sucker away for life you'd take it.
"Never."
"Then come get me."
"No... I think you need to find me first. Hasn't that always been your goal? To find me."
You cursed under your breath. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy for you. Why had you been so stupid.
"I don't know if you know this but you picked the most crowded club in the city tonight."
"Don't worry. I'll give you hints. But I can tell you right now you're very cold."
You stepped away from the bar and turned left.
"Warmer."
You considered that when you caught him you'd just kill him and say it had been an accident. And yet a sick and twisted part of you felt a thrill you couldn't explain.
And honestly were afraid to examine further.
Another few twists and turns to the tune of, "Warmer" and "you're getting colder." Lead you to a bustling staircase that took you up to the balcony overlooking the entire club.
Masses of people swarmed around you and at some points it was hard to even hear the phone if he had said anything at all.
You reached a hallway that was suspiciously empty. Lines of velvet padded doors with brass buttons on their exterior beckoned you forward.
“You’re getting warmer, Detective.”
Your hand twitched, trying not to rest on your concealed weapon.
“Warmer.
You'd made it halfway down the hall when you decided this was enough and it was time for backup. Your left heel stuck in place before you were about to turn tail and run.
“You’re burning up.”
A large hand snaked around your waist pulling you away from the door you had been looking at wearily. Then it all went black.
You came to, eyes blearily blinking in the low light. A deep red hue filled the room, curtains of lush fabric draped the ceiling, hanging askew and clinging to matching red sofas.
A black crystal chandelier hung above your head. The pounding of the music from the club could still be heard, the bass vibrating the surface you were on.
Stuck on. No, strapped to.
You wiggled your wrists realizing they were handcuffed to the table beneath your body. Your senses started to come to you faster as your breathing increased with each panicked heartbeat.
Your ankles were tied down as well, a chain clanging against the surface. The sound blunted by the space.
“Help!” You shouted, screaming as loud as you could. “Somebody?! Anybody!”
“They can’t hear you.” That voice. You’d heard it before. So many times before, but this time it wasn’t distorted by a device. No scrambling or altered sound. Deep, even more attractive than you’d thought.
If you didn’t know better you’d say it was almost warm, inviting. Like a lamb to slaughter, that’s how you felt. A wolf in sheep’s clothing and you were falling for it.
It was nearly impossible to lift your head fully to look upon your captor. Out of the shadows in the corner stood a man, tall, lean, leather jacket scuffed and torn and the mask. You recognized that.
He toyed with a large silver knife, pressing the point into the pad of his thumb, mask downturned as he examined the large weapon before you.
Turning back to look at you he traced the knife along the padded velvet walls. Cocking his head towards them as he approached where you lay.
“These walls are solid thick. The padding also helps block out the noise.” You couldn’t see his face but his eyes…they were black and they caught the red light just right and they almost-glimmered.
When he spoke next you could hear the smirk on his lips.
“Perfect place for screaming…of all kinds.” Your eyes closed, brows drawn together, a shaky rasp escaping your lips.
“You’re going to kill me.”
His head tilted to the side, taking you in, probably in more ways than you realized. Moving closer to you, the glimmering buck knife scraping against the wood of the table. You could feel your pulse racing in your neck, knees wobbling.
Once he’d approached your side, cracked white mask looking over you he lifted the glinting blade. You watched with wide eyes as the edge came down as he drew lines over your exposed flesh.
“Now why would I do that?” Cool metal bit into the side of your thigh, not enough to draw blood but enough to have you gasp at the pressure. His bottomless eyes darted to your face at the sound.
You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. Captivated by you writhing on the table before him. Setting the knife down to rest on the center of your torso the man before you removed one of his gloves.
Flesh met flesh as he placed his large hand on your inner thigh, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your heated skin. His skin felt warm against your leg, you’d waited for it to feel cold, clammy but it was neither of those things.
“I’ve watched you for so long, Detective. Been wanting to feel how soft your skin is for far too long.”
You wanted to fight it but you couldn’t help your poor body giving in to his caresses. Each stroke against your knee, shin, then moving back up to rest so close to your center.
You tasted blood from how hard you’d bit your lower lip. Dying to not moan, to not let him know you were enjoying this. But he knew. Dammit he knew.
“You knew I’d take the bait. And I did. Because you KNOW me. And I know you.”
“You don’t know me.” You spit out, you tugged against your constraints to drive home your point.
“I know you’re enjoying this.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because I am.” Fuck him. That’s all you could think. All you wanted but didn’t dare admit. He was a psycho…and maybe you were too for wanting him this badly.
He retrieved his knife, this time letting it settle between your thighs, the tip catching on the string of your underwear. You could feel the blade against your skin and you did your best to breathe in shallow gulps.
His wrist flicked and what little pathetic swatch of fabric you’d had on under your dress was done for. An elastic snapping noise, a sting as it smacked against your skin and then he moved back a foot.
Pulling with him the knife and your underwear torn and tattered stuck to the tip of the blade. He held up the weapon and its new bundle of fabric to examine it, fingering the underwear with his free hand.
“Detective. These appear to be wet.”
If you’d had your gun you would’ve shot him. Or you’d like to think you would in this moment. Anything to get out of this situation. Scorching heat seared across your face, you could feel it beading up on the back of your neck as well.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table, fingers brushing against your sides in the process.
“Care to explain?” His head gestured to the sad excuse for underwear left.
“Fuck you!”
“Soon, but not yet.” His gloveless hand resumed its place on your inner thigh but this time his fingers dared higher. You could feel him part you and drag a long finger up your center, dipping in before pulling his hand back to inspect.
You wanted to cross your legs, anything to prevent you from wanting more. The noises that had scratched at the back of your throat as you felt him briefly inside you, were scrambling to escape.
His fingers were coated in your wetness, masked face exploring your own, gauging your reaction. Then he slipped those same fingers under his mask, a sucking noise could be heard and his eyes rolled back.
“You taste just as I imagined.” Your eyes met his, instead of looking away you kept your focus. Challenging him. He wanted to play games, so could you.
Maybe he was right, maybe you two did have some connection because as your eyes remained locked with his you could feel the static energy in the room shift around you.
“What else have you imagined?”
The hand of his that held the knife lifted again, the lip of the blade coaxing under the hem of your dress. The tip poking through the satin fabric, slicing as it moved upwards.
Cool air rushed over your heated skin, the fabric falling away. You carefully watched the knife as it made its way across your stomach, towards your chest and finally reaching your neckline.
The stitches popping as the dress shredded away, two useless swath's of fabric toppling to the floor. Exposing your remaining lingerie that you had carefully selected for the night, something that would fit nicely under your dress.
He let out a low whistle from under his mask. Taking the knife and quirking it underneath a loose bow on your black lace bustier. Untying the ribbon as he twisted the knife expertly.
“Detective. Is this all for me?”
“Untie me and find out.” At that he chuckled, plucking another seam with the blades tip.
“You’re very clever, but not that clever.”
He tapped your cheek with the flat side of his knife, wiggling his finger in a childlike admonishment as he moved to the end of the table. Standing between your legs that were still strapped down.
You watched as he slipped the knife into his back pocket, removing his other glove somewhere in the process.
The way he watched you as he moved. Those depthless eyes examining every inch of your body. How they shone a little brighter as his gaze landed on your exposed lower half.
He lowered himself onto his elbows but not before clutching your hips and tugging you further down the table towards him. You grunted at the tightness overwhelming your bound wrists, scraping against the metal handcuffs.
Then you felt his mouth against you. Crying out at the feel of his lips sucking against you. Lapping up your juices and teasing the sensitive flesh there.
Your eyes squeezed shut, panting, then moaning. His evil mouth coaxing every new noise from your body. Trying to look down and see him but the mask sat on top of his head still blocking your view.
That tightness and aching sensation started to gather in your center, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. Your moans grew louder, sparks flared behind your eyes and then with an extra savory sucking sensation you were tumbling over the edge.
You screamed, pulling against your handcuffs, hips lifting off the table to meet his mouth more readily and from the way the floor and walls pulsed and pounded around you, you knew he was right.
No one could hear you.
The ecstasy washed through you, draining your remaining fight down to nothing. You didn’t even notice that he had stood up and knelt by where your head rested.
“Next time scream my name.”
“That’s a little hard since I don’t know it.” You managed through gasps of air.
You could feel him moving beside you before you turned to come face to face with that taunting white mask. You instead focused on his eyes beneath the plastic exterior.
Every nerve ending came alive as you watched his large hands coming up and unclasping the fasten behind his mask. The cold façade fell away and you felt pin pricks of both dread and wonder overtake you.
The masked killer-unmasked.
And remarkably, if not tragically, handsome beyond your comprehension.
Those same dark eyes that gobbled up any light in the room, curtained by long strands of dark hair. Mussed from the mask, and his previous explorations of your body.
A small mole rested under one eye, well shaped nose and perfectly carved smile adorned by pink lips. His jaw was severe but softened by the rest of his features when he smiled.
It set your whole being on edge. Looking at him, the man you'd been talking to for months. Who'd been taunting you at every turn.
Who'd killed people.
"Do you prefer the mask, Detective?"
You swallowed thickly at the insinuated repercussions of having seen his face. Knowing you could pick him out of a lineup easily. You'd never be able to forget that face.
Terminally Handsome.
He smirked at you, as if reading your thoughts. Grip tightening on the knife and drawing it in lazy circles and arcs over your skin once more.
Pressing deeply just under your ribcage, a rivulet of blood being drawn to the surface as you sucked in a ragged gasp.
The pain mixed with excitement as you felt yourself dampen again just watching him.
"Let's remove this, shall we?" He nodded to your bustier that was beginning to feel very tight and hot against your body.
You felt the blade slip under the center point where it laced up corset style and watched as each ribbon gave way to the sharpened metal slicing its way upwards.
You felt like your chest could finally expand and take in oxygen once he reached forward tearing the offending fabric away from you. It even took your hazy brain to register that now you lay completely exposed to the monster before you.
Monster...or man. You couldn't decide at the moment.
The blade tip circled one nipple then the other, your body betrayed you in every sense of the word as you groaned at the cool sensation. The tight bud responding eagerly to his ministrations.
There was no mask hiding his expressions now. Amusement and darkening shadows of lust.
"I can tell you're enjoying this as much as me." He leaned in close and whispered, licking the shell of your ear. Then placing a heated kiss to your neck before working his way downard.
Taking your nipple into his hot mouth and sucking enough for your eyes to roll back and hips rise up in need. He then turned his attention to the other breast. Tongue stroking you as you felt the knife pressed to the other side keeping you in place.
"Please." You wanted to cringe away from how helpless you felt as the word escaped your lips. Not helpless asking to be let go, but helpless-begging for more.
At that the gorgeous man above you's eyes rose to catch your powerless gaze. You knew this entire time, for months, you'd never been the one in charge. It had always been him. And you fell for it- hook, line and sinker.
"Billy."
"How do I know that's not a fake name?" You ventured, crying out when his mouth tortured you again.
"Does it matter?" No. Nothing mattered at this moment. Your world had shrunk and it was just you and him. You and Billy.
"No. It doesn't." He seemed to like that. Continuing his assault on your body until you couldn't tell where your body ended and his began.
Dizzy from pleasure and wanting, no, needing more. You could feel his arousal pressed into your thigh as he hovered over you kissing and marking up your shoulder.
"Billy I-"
"Shhhhh." The cool press of the blade against your lips. "I know."
And damn him, he did. You couldn't control how your body reacted as you watched him slowly unbuckle his belt, black pants dropping to the floor around his ankles.
His pupils blown wide, moving towards you, no longer a man. A killer stalking his prey. He moved in near silence until he was hovering over you.
His lips were on yours again, demanding, controlling, guiding every movement and you followed him like a lost puppy. Biting his bottom lip before he could pull away, drawing a drop of blood to fall between you two.
He pulled back, fingers tentatively touching the small wound. The look he gave you next was feral. No humanity left in it. Only terrible delight and amusement.
You felt him pressing at your entrance, hot and hard. Your knees fell apart further and you heard him chuckle into your chest as he drove home.
It was truly criminal how good it felt, how right it felt. You were turned on and disgusted by yourself all at once, but soon that little voice telling you to hold back was drowned out by each push of his hips against yours.
You wanted to hold onto him, to run your fingers through his hair to claw at his back but all your wrists could do was press against the metal holding you back. Bruises rubbing into your skin.
He struck something deep inside you and you muffled a cry into his shoulder. Building higher and higher, soaring above you body with each movement.
You could feel him getting closer too, a shift of his hips catching just the right angle and your toes curled.
"Scream for me, Detective. Like you've been wanting to all these months."
His pace picked up, Billy groaning and the sounds of your bodies coming together again and again and again.
Your body couldn't take it anymore, fucked into oblivion. Your body clenched then released, fireworks filling your vision and spikes of pleasure drove through ever cell of your body.
"Billy!" You screamed as loud as you could, the clanging of your wrists and feet fighting their confines as your back arched into him.
At the sound of you coming again he drove in deeper than he had before and followed you over the precipice. Groaning loud as his fingers dug into your hips.
He whispered your name into your ear as he came, punctuating it with a final crush of hip hips against yours. The sound of your full name on his lips made your head hazy.
You felt a sharp prick on your side and the room around you began to swim. You could feel his fingers caressing the side of your face.
"This has been very nice Detective. I look forward to doing it again sometime." He placed a passionate kiss to your lips before giving you a soft almost tender kiss to your forehead. "Sweet Dreams." Then the room went dark.
You didn't know how long it'd been but you blinked eyes squinting at the bright light overhead. You were in a hospital, sounds of people milling about made you turn your head to the side.
"Detective!" On of your colleagues exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. " You're awake!"
"What happened?"
"We found you in the club...Tied to a table. But wearing different clothing than you'd been wearing before going inside." she gulped. "We saw the torn fragments of dress though."
So he'd been a gentleman and dressed you before leaving.
"Have you found him?" Her eyes fell to her clasped hands before shaking her head.
"No not yet but we will." Her phone beeped and she gave a baleful smile before pausing to walk out and take the call.
When you turned over onto your other side on the side table you noticed a large bouquet of flowers. A note placed in the center with a heart drawn on it.
You scrambled to open the card.
"Thank you for the amazing night, Detective. Until next time."
#billy russo#ben barnes#the punisher#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#billy russo fanfic#the punisher fanfiction#ben barnes character#the punisher au#frank castle#billy russo x y/n#serialkiller!billyrusso#detective!reader#billy russo the punisher#billy russo edit#billy russo halloween#halloween fanfic
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Night of The Maneater
Part 1: The Chase
Part Two || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3
Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist
Pairing: Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader
Summary: Since the destruction of Fazbear's Fright, Michael could finally celebrate Halloween in peace, but with a new serial killer on the loose known only by the name "The Maneater", how long will his night stay that way?
Content Warnings: Stalking, mentions of death and killing, descriptions of fear and creepy scenarios, death threats, sexual themes
Notes: I don't care that FNAF lore says that Fazbear's Fright happened in the future. This fic takes place in the 1990s because I said so... Also, that time is the perfect setting for a slasher moment and no, I will not be taking criticism.
I also just looked it up and the first Scream movie takes place in 1996, so my guts were on point with this one. Trust my judgement, y'all~
Word Count: 4,352
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Halloween season had an air of peace ever since Fazbear’s Fright burned down. This year, instead of fighting for his life against a group of worn-down animatronics–only one of them being corporeal, though not untouched by the stench of death–he only encountered the bright faces that came to his door in search of candy.
Michael was more than happy to oblige, complimenting the costumes of each child as he dropped some candy into their bags. Each child’s parent warmly smiled in appreciation from across the lawn, and he always reciprocated the soft expression. It was nice, seeing parents who took the time to make memories with their children. It filled him with a sense of pride, knowing he could help create that experience for them.
Once he handed out the last of his candy for the night, he turned out his porch light and headed for his kitchen to start making popcorn. He figured he’d spend the rest of the night catching up on the episodes of The Immortal and the Restless he had recorded to his VCR.
As he was searching his cupboards for an aluminum popcorn pan, the radio on the counter switched from lighthearted Halloween tunes to an emergency news report.
“We’re just getting news of a new serial killing taking place here in Hurricane, Utah.” The radio anchor announced. “Police are currently unable to name a suspect. The only information they have is that this killer seems to only target young men in their mid-twenties. They’ve since been codenamed, ‘The Maneater’. Police are advising that all residents make sure their doors, windows, and all other entrances to their homes are locked-”
“And, that’s enough of that.” Michael muttered to himself as he switched off the radio. What a buzzkill…
He rooted around in his cupboards a little longer before finally finding the aluminum pan he was looking for. He’d just put the pan on the stove when the phone started ringing across the room.
He strolled over to where it was mounted and picked it up. “Hello?”
A woman’s voice softly responded. “Hello.” A long pause followed, the only sound Michael could hear being the soft popping of his popcorn, before she asked. “Who is this?”
“Who are you trying to reach?” Michael wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to dodge the question. Something felt off already, and he hadn’t talked to this person for more than a few seconds. After another moment of silence, he tried to shut down the conversation. “I think you might have the wrong number.”
“Oh, do I?” The voice sounded playful.
“It happens to the best of us.” Michael reassured. “Take care, now.”
He had just moved to return to the stove when the phone rang again. Since when was I so popular?
He smiled to himself as he picked the phone back up off of the receiver. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry.” The same woman’s voice answered. “I guess I did dial the wrong number.”
Michael nervously chuckled. “So, why would you call me back?”
“To apologize.” The woman’s voice was smooth. She spoke lowly and calmly, like she was reading a bedtime story to a child. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you, tonight of all nights.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “It happens all the time. I’m going to go now, okay?”
“Hold on,” The voice suddenly sounded hurried. “Don’t hang up, yet.”
Against his better judgment, Michael responded. “Why not?”
“I want to talk to you for a second.” The woman’s voice purred. It sounded almost… sultry.
Michael felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or enthralled. “I’m sure there are more interesting people you could talk to at this time of night. I should go now. Bye.” As soon as he hung up the phone, it immediately began to ring again.
Michael audibly groaned before picking up. “Hello?”
“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” The same woman’s voice answered, feigning hurt.
Michael was beginning to grow fed up with what he assumed was a Halloween prank call. “Okay, who is this?”
“Why don’t you tell me your name first, handsome?” If the voice didn’t sound provocative before, it definitely did now.
“Michael,” He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to give up that information so voluntarily. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
“Michael~” The voice sounded borderline pornographic as it tested his name. “Like Michael Myres, from Halloween. I like that.” Michael gulped, the action requiring some effort due to his suddenly dry throat. “What are you up to, Michael?”
“I- I- Uhm-” He stammered. “M- Making popcorn.”
“Making popcorn?” The voice sounded genuinely interested. “I only eat popcorn if I’m watching something. Are you preparing for a scary movie marathon?”
“No, nothing scary.” Michael felt his prior tension easing as the conversation began to seem normal. “Just my favorite show.”
“No scary movies?” The voice sounded playfully appalled. “It’s Halloween! How could you pass up a scary movie on Halloween?”
Michael bashfully scratched the back of his neck. “Not really my thing, I guess.”
“That’s a shame.” The voice sounded almost melodic. “I love a good scary movie.” After a long pause, the voice spoke up again. “So, do you have a girlfriend, Michael?”
He felt his face begin to glow red as his heart fluttered. That question definitely caught him off guard. “I- Well- Uhm- No, not exactly.”
“No need to be shy.” The voice purred. “I’m sure you’re more than a decent catch~”
“Thanks.” Michael struggled to fend off the flattered smile that was tugging at his lips. “So, uhm… Why are you asking me so many of these questions? Are you flirting with me, or something?”
“Maybe~” The voice took on an air of mischief. “I just want to know who I’m looking at.”
Michael felt his heart drop out of his chest. What the fuck?
He cradled the phone in his arms as he ran around the house, checking the windows to see if he could find any suspicious figure looking back at him.
When he couldn’t find anything, he just made sure the windows were locked before he held the phone back to his ear, returning to the kitchen. “What did you say?”
“I said I want to know who I’m talking to, silly!” The voice lightly giggled. “Everything okay?”
“N- no…” Michael breathed, the dread from earlier creeping back into his chest. “That wasn’t what you said.”
“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” The voice spoke in a cautionary tone.
Michael struggled to swallow as he gulped again. “I wish I could say this was fun, but… Well… Goodnight, okay?”
“Don’t hang up on me.” The voice sounded a little more firm than the last time it asked him not to hang up.
Michael shivered. “Gotta go…” He hung up the phone and all but ran to the kitchen to take his popcorn off of the stove. He’d just finished pouring it into a large bowl when the phone rang again.
He rolled his eyes and tossed the empty pan in the garbage before picking up the phone. “Hello?”
“I told you not to hang up on me, Michael.” The voice sounded a lot less playful than before, instead bordering on angry. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“What’s your problem?” He began impatiently tapping his foot.
“I don’t have a problem with you, Michael.” The voice sounded almost as annoyed as Michael felt. “As I’ve already said, I just want to talk.”
“Well, talk to someone else, okay?” Michael hated the way his voice cracked, but he hoped he still got his message across.
“Are you getting scared?” The voice found its playful tone again, using it to tease him.
“No, just tired.” He slammed the phone back onto the receiver, making one last attempt to return to his cooling popcorn before the phone rang again.
Michael growled as he answered the phone. “Listen, I don’t-”
“NO, YOU LISTEN, YOU LITTLE BITCH!” The voice exploded. “If you hang up on me again I'll gut you like a fish! Do you understand me?!”
Michael was at a loss for words. As he tried to find the right words to say, his mouth opened and closed, like a fish filtering water.
“I’m sorry, Michael.” The voice purred after a tense moment of silence. “I don’t normally lose my temper so quickly like that. Especially on pretty boys like you.”
Michael was still stuck in an astonished silence, and the voice took that as an invitation to continue. “I don’t like being hung up on. That was rude…” The voice paused, sighing in disapproval before continuing. “I also couldn’t help but notice you locking your windows. I thought it was really bold of you to assume I wasn’t already inside.”
Suddenly, all the power in the house went out, plummeting Michael into a silent darkness. His blood ran cold as he rushed to one of his kitchen drawers to grab a flashlight.
“Wh- What the hell was that?” His hands began to shake as he clicked the flashlight on. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No, no.” The voice reassured. “Nothing of the sort. I like to think of it as more of a game.”
“I- I’ll call the cops!” Michael attempted a threat of his own.
“Oh, come on, now.” The voice softly tutted. “You’re smarter than this, Michael. You know they’d never make it in time.”
He felt nauseous. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to play a game.” The voice calmly answered. “And if you play the right way, you get to walk out alive.”
Michael scoffed at the voice’s request. “You’re insane.”
“That wasn’t a no.” The voice softly giggled. “Come on, Michael. You know you want to. It’ll be fun~”
“Fine.” Michael spat. “I’ll play your stupid game.”
“Ouch.” The voice teased. “I haven’t even explained the rules yet. But, here they are. We’re going to do a little bit of trivia. I’ll ask you a series of questions. Each time you get a question wrong, I’ll walk into one room adjacent to the one I’m in. Each time you get a question right, I’ll stay put. You can move regardless, but only after you answer a question, and only one room at a time. Oh, and just know that you’ll be moving at your own risk. Got it?”
“You’re insane…” Michael repeated.
“I believe we’ve covered that.” The voice sounded amused at his apparent fear. “I may be insane, but I’m a woman of my word. I haven’t moved an inch since I got here.”
Michael silently shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“A few last-minute things,” The voice went on. “If you hang up on me, I’ll kill you. If you try to leave the house, I’ll kill you. If you try to call the cops, I’ll kill you. Notice the trend?” The voice chuckled before continuing. “And, if I get to the same room as you? …Actually, let’s keep that a surprise for now.” The voice giggled again. “Are you ready for your first question, Michael?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He felt defeated, and the game hadn’t even started yet.
“Good!” The voice enthused. “These questions are scary movie-themed, so I’m afraid you’ll be at a disadvantage.”
“Of course.” Michael muttered, bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose.
“First question,” The voice began. “Proclaiming herself to be the ‘Mistress of the Dark’, this character hosted her own ‘Movie Macabre’ before moving on to star in her own self-titled film. What’s her name?”
Michael struggled to find an answer in his anxious mental haze. “I- I don’t know.”
“Really?” The voice sounded genuinely shocked. “What, do you live under a rock? You have to know this one! Men really love her for her huge… ratings! Yeah, ratings…”
Michael cringed at the voice's poor attempt at humor. “I still don’t know.”
“That’s unfortunate.” The voice sighed. “I’ll be moving rooms now, since the name Elvira doesn’t seem to be coming to your mind.” Then, the only thing Michael could hear on the other end of the line was the sound of a door softly opening and closing. “There we go.”
His mind began to race as he tried to find some strategy to get himself through this game. His house was only one story high, and he only had so many rooms. When moving in, he felt he didn’t need much more than that, since he planned on living alone. He’d originally imagined that the woman was on the other side of the house, but she’d only specified that she was inside. She never told him where she was. That meant she could be anywhere from across the house to right outside the nearest door. Michael decided to stay in the kitchen for the time being. He didn’t want to risk bumping into her just yet… though he’d still be taking that risk if he stayed where he was.
“Alright!” The voice interrupted his thoughts. “Ready for the next question?”
“Let’s do it.” He did his best to summon his courage and clear his thoughts.
“Tell me the name of the killer doll from the film Child’s Play.” The voice directed.
Michael began biting his thumbnail in deep thought. I know this one. It’s that creepy ginger doll. But, what was his name?
“Tick tock, Michael.” The voice taunted. “Neither of us have all night.”
“Chucky!” He blurted once the answer finally came to mind. “The doll’s name was Chucky.”
An agonizing silence passed before the voice purred, “Well done, Michael. You’re more clever than you look. I guess I’ll be staying put this time.”
His mind began whirring again with a million questions. Where could she be? How long would it take for her to find him? What would she do to him once she did? He couldn’t just sit around and find out. Michael took the opportunity to slip from the kitchen into the living room. Since the doorway to the living room was open, he was able to make sure no one was there before entering.
“I see you decided to move this round.” The voice pointed out. “Interesting choice.”
“You know where I am right now?” He shuddered at the possibility.
“Of course I do.” The voice calmly responded. “I’ve been watching you this whole time, Michael.”
He quickly spun around, looking over his shoulder to make sure the owner of the voice hadn’t already found him. “H- How?”
“I don’t want to reveal my secrets just yet.” The voice responded.
Fuck! Michael’s heart began to pound. This obviously put him at a huge disadvantage. He needed to find a way to even out the playing field.
“Well, maybe I’m curious.” A new idea slowly unfurled in his mind as he spoke.
“Well, maybe I want to move on to the next question.” The voice insisted.
“Wait,” Michael felt his resolve slowly growing. “Before we do that, I want to change the rules of the game, just a little.”
A long pause followed, and just when Michael was worried that the voice wouldn’t take the bait, it responded. “Go on…”
“What if I could ask questions, too?” He proposed. “For every question you answer, I’ll stay still, but for every one you refuse, I move.”
This time, the voice let out a hum of consideration. “That sounds fun… I’ll accept, only if I get to move regardless, like you do when I ask questions.”
“Deal.” Michael knew this was a risky plan, but any answers he could get out of this person could help him to escape her. “We’ll alternate asking questions, so it’s fair.”
“Deal.” The voice purred. “After you, cutie~”
Michael felt his face flush as he tried to think carefully about his first question. Now is not the time to get flattered by a crazy killer in your house! …Come to think of it, why is she here?
He decided that would be his first question. “Why did you come here of all places?”
“Hmmm,” The voice paused for a moment before answering. “Because I was looking for a new catch, and you happened to be alone.”
“A new catch?” He was even more confused than before. “What do you mean?”
“Michael, Michael, Michael…” The voice tsked. “You didn’t waste any time before trying to break your own rule.” Michael could faintly hear the sound of a door opening and closing over the phone before the voice continued, softer than before. “I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Sorry,” Michael gulped. “Go on.”
“Alright, next question,” The line went silent again before the voice found its question. “Name one scary movie that came out this year.”
Michael scratched his head. He knew a lot of horror movies came out this year, but he barely paid attention to the trailers when they came on the television. Think, damnit!
He knew he had to get this one. The owner of the voice could have been anywhere in the house, and the living room had the most doors out of all the rooms.
“Michael, are you still there?” The voice softly giggled. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you are! Come on. Don’t keep me waiting.”
He knew there was a sequel to some Stephen King movie. What was it? The Shining? No. It? No… Cujo? No, but he vaguely remembered it involving pets. Wait a minute… Pets! That’s it!
“Pet Semetary II,” Michael breathed.
“Well done,” The voice didn’t pause before congratulating him this time. “That tracks. Looks like I’m not going anywhere.”
Michael quickly ran up to the nearest door, holding his ear up to it to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone on the other side. When he felt confident enough, he entered the room, softly closing the door behind him.
“The laundry room?” The voice sounded condescending. “That seems like a dead end to me, but if that’s what you want…”
“It’s my turn to ask a question.” Michael was anxious to get back to the point. He leaned back against the washing machine, gripping the edge with his free hand until his knuckles turned white.
“Okay, okay.” The voice conceded. “Ask away.”
“What did you mean earlier when you said you were looking for ‘a new catch’?” His voice wavered mid-question.
“That’s a good one,” The voice answered. “Sometimes, I’m not even sure, myself. I’ve chalked it up to this. The ideal catch for me is someone beautiful. Someone who’s willing to play my games. Someone strong enough to put up a good fight. But, above all, the ideal catch for me is someone clever and obedient.” After a heartbeat passed, the voice asked. “Is that a satisfactory answer for you, Michael.”
“I- I think so…” He gulped. He felt weak in the knees. What the hell was this person playing at? What was she hoping to do with him once she caught him? No, I can’t think like that. He mentally chided himself. I can’t lose this. I can’t!
But, at the same time, a new feeling rose within him. His sudden weakness in the knees couldn’t only be chalked up to fear. Hearing this voice compliment him tonight, it did things to him. How many times had she called him ‘clever’? How many times had she complimented his looks? Not to mention the thrill of having her go through all this trouble with the hopes of catching him. Part of him almost began to want to be found. Maybe it was because he hadn’t romantically been with someone in a while, but he suddenly found that the hairs on the back of his neck weren’t the only thing standing upright.
Get a grip! Michael frowned the crotch of his jeans, which was slowly pitching a tent.
A new sound snapped him out of his thoughts. He heard a door open and close, except it wasn’t just over the phone. He heard it in real life. He heard it from the next room. The owner of the voice was in the living room. His breath hitched. Oh, god! It’s over…
“Ready for your next question, Michael?” The voice spoke just low enough so he could only hear it through the phone.
Michael decided to match its volume. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Alright,” The voice softly hummed as its owner thought of a question. “Okay! I got one. What is the name of the movie where a group of people take refuge in an old farmhouse to protect themselves from a horde of zombies?”
Now, this sounded very familiar. Michael recognized this as the plot to a movie he’d watched with his family when he was younger. It was one of the fonder memories he had with them before everything began to fall apart. But, it had been so long that he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to recall the name of it. What was it called?
“You’re killing me, Michael.” The voice groaned. “Must you take so long to come up with an answer to every single one of my questions?”
Michael’s brow furrowed in concentration. The title was on the tip of his tongue. If only he could recall it. He knew it had something to do with the ‘living dead’, because of the zombies, and it all happened at night… Oh! Duh! I’m a fucking idiot…
“It’s Night of the Living Dead.” Michael answered. “I used to watch it with my family as a kid.”
“How cute~” The voice purred. “And I thought scary movies weren’t your thing.”
“Not anymore…” He muttered.
“Do you have your next question ready?” The voice asked.
“I think I do.” Michael shuddered as he took a breath to steady his nerves. “Are you ‘The Maneater’ that the radio station’s been talking about?”
“Am I ‘The Maneater’?” The voice softly chuckled as it repeated his question. “I believe that is what they call me, yes.” After that, silence…
That was, until Michael could hear growing footsteps. His heart leapt into his throat. He’d forgotten that whenever he asked a question, she could move rooms regardless of whether or not she answered. This was it. She would open the door and kill him. It was game over. Oh god. Oh, fuck…
He couldn’t breathe. He clicked off his flashlight, but he knew it didn’t matter. She already knew where he was. The Maneater was right there.
Once the shadows of her feet appeared under the door, Michael felt tremors work their way through his body. He gulped, the heartbeat in his ears blocking out any other sounds around him.
Then, the shadows disappeared, and he heard the footsteps quickly retreat. Michael let go of the breath he was holding, a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“Your fear is adorable.” The Maneater softly giggled. “No, that’s an understatement.” Her words grew breathy. “Your fear… it excites me.”
Michael willed his heart to slow down. He was convinced that, had the washing machine not been holding most of his weight, he would have keeled over.
“I could chase you like this for hours.” She ecstatically sighed. “After all this time I spent searching… I finally found the perfect catch.”
Her words were barely registering to him. Did she avoid him on purpose? She had the perfect opportunity to catch him just then. Why didn’t she?
“I have to ask, Michael,” The Maneater went on. “And I’m counting this as my next question… Do you enjoy being hunted?”
“Wh- What?” That fully grabbed his attention again.
“Do you enjoy being hunted?” She repeated. “Does our little game of cat-and-mouse excite you?”
Michael felt his face flush. It was like she was invading his mind, as well as his home. “Wh- What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb.” The Maneater scoffed. “I know you know what I mean.” Her voice grew sensual. “Does being hunted turn you on as much as it turns me on to chase you?”
Michael hesitated. Clearly, his common sense steered him to believe it didn’t. This woman was insane, and she’d killed men just like him. There was no way he could possibly enjoy being in such a dangerous position.
His body, however, heavily disagreed. It didn’t care about the circumstances. It just fell prey to the allure of this woman’s voice and it wasn’t as shy as he was about expressing his sudden libido. He looked back down at the evidence, growing more apparent the longer it strained against the front of his pants.
He decided to respond as vaguely as possible, seeing as he wasn’t too sure of the answer himself. “What does that matter? That doesn’t change the fact that I’m stuck playing this crazy game until you leave me alone.”
The Maneater softly chuckled at his boldness. “I should’ve expected that.”
Michael didn’t wait to hear whether or not she considered that answer correct. He knew he had to keep moving. He had to get out of that laundry room before she cornered him in it again.
He threw the door open, not even checking for The Maneater on the other side. He knew she was just a room away, and all she had to do to catch him was turn around, but he didn’t care. He was willing to take that risk.
Michael rushed across the living room, stopping by the door to his bedroom. He already knew what his next question was going to be. He was going to ask The Maneater for her name. If she didn’t answer, he’d be able to move into a new room. If she did, then he’d finally know her by name. He just had to ask for her name and-
WHAM! A flash of pain exploded from the back of Michael’s head, and he fell to the floor from the impact. The last thing he saw was the ghoulish, dark empty eyes of a ghost-faced mask looking down at him before his vision went black.
#halloween#spooky season#halloween fanfic#horror fanfiction#michael afton x reader#michael afton#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanfic#michael afton x female reader#michael afton smut#fnaf smut
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Halloween Night
Evil Morty x Bimbo Reader
(BOTH READER AND EVIL MORTY ARE 18-YEAR-OLD SENIORS IN HIGH SCHOOL.)
I'm surprised there aren't more Morty x Reader Fan Fics out there. Rick and Morty came out when I was 12, so Morty was one of my first crushes lol.
Summary: Morty and you have been together for about 8 months. You picked out a sexy alien costume hoping to impress Morty with how amazing you look. When you show him after weeks of waiting for it to arrive, he explains it may be a bit too scandalous before even complimenting you. This frustrates you because, as a cheerleader, the costume isn't more revealing than your uniform. You try to make him jealous at the prep rally and end up talking things out at the Halloween party you both show up at.
Word Count: 2.0k+
Part 2 is now posted!!!
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
When you got home from school, you were thrilled that your Halloween costume had finally come in the mail. Tomorrow was the 31st so you were cutting it close, not to mention you’ve been excited to show Morty. You two have been dating for 8 months and even though it doesn’t seem like a long time, it sure did feel like it. This was your first Halloween as a couple and you were both excited to spend it together. You let your backpack plop down on the carpet and sit on your bed. Using your eyebrow razor you rip open the green costume. It was a leather skirt, a matching tube top, silver gloves, and thigh highs. Once you put it on you fell in love with it, and you felt really confident. You FaceTimed Morty, setting your phone on your vanity and waiting for him to pick up. When he answered he was lying in his bed. You could tell his room was dark because of the lighting. You backed away from the phone so he could see the entire costume. The reason you chose an alien costume was for Morty, you figured he would be excited and flattered that you were thinking of him. Not to mention practically everyone in the school knew that Morty was always around aliens and intergalactic shenanigans.
“Well?” you asked when he didn’t say anything.
“It’s really hot, are you wearing that to Tricia’s party?” he asked, sounding a little less than entertained.
“Um.. yeah? Is there something wrong?” you asked, confused as to why his energy was so negative.
“I don’t know, don’t you think it’s kinda revealing,” he asked and your face dropped.
“I don’t think it’s that much more revealing than my cheer uniform, and I wear that all the time,” you said, sitting on the office chair next to your desk.
“Don’t play dumb though y-you know that costume shows quite a bit off,” he said.
“What the fuck, I’m not playing dumb. Obviously, I know it’s a hot outfit. I'm just saying that it’s not worse than my cheerleading uniform and I wear that to school and football games. So why would this bother you?” you asked.
“Fine, whatever if you want to go out with your tits and ass out that’s fine, I’ll just have to bring a gun.” he sighed.
“Oh no don’t even worry about that, you can just stay home and play with the gun in your pants. I think imma just be with my girls tomorrow night. It’s so fucking crazy that it not only took me a week to pick this out for you but also waited weeks to show you how it looked. Do you realize you didn’t give me a single compliment since I’ve shown you? I respect your opinions but why do you have to be such a douche about it like honestly,” you said hanging up the call. You were feeling pretty beside yourself, you were so excited to spend Halloween together and it was like that was flushed down the toilet. You change out of your costume and lay out everything you need for tomorrow’s Halloween prep rally. After you finish up some homework, you head to bed even though you are feeling quite restless.
The next morning you woke up feeling more optimistic about today. Morty sent you a good morning text which made you angry. You were expecting an apology not him trying to sweep shit under the rug. You woke up early in order to have time to shower and shave, not to mention you’d have to blow dry your hair after. The hot water was making you more sleepy than you felt while you were in bed. You scrubbed your scalp with shampoo, enjoying the hot water as you rinsed the suds out. You shaved your legs and exfoliated your body, you hopped out of the shower once the hot steam was making you feel faint. You sat at your vanity and began blow drying your hair. When you looked up, you saw all the polaroids of you and Morty taped to the sides of your vanity. It wasn’t like you guys were broken up or anything, clearly he wasn’t mad at you. It just seemed kind of hypocritical for him to judge you on showing too much skin because always said he liked that about you. You bump the ends of your long blonde hair and then start your make-up. You always wore a lot of make-up; big lashes, bright pink blush, lip gloss, ect. It didn’t matter if it looked cakey at times to you, obviously, it’s not going to look as good during 8th period as it did when you first got to school.
After your hair and make-up was done, you put on your cheer uniform. You were going to Tricia’s house right after school to help her get things ready for her party. As you packed your costume you couldn’t ignore how upset you were about Morty today. You spotted Tricia and a couple of your friends sitting in the quad. After greeting and showering each other with compliments, you explained to them what happened with Morty last night. You showed them a picture of you in the green costume and they all reassured you that it wasn’t too sluty.
“Did you guys break up for real this time?” Tricia asked, rubbing your shoulder.
“No, he texted me good morning but that was it. I don’t know, I kinda feel like I overreacted. I was really looking forward to spending tonight together but I just feel like he was being disrespectful, all of a sudden he doesn’t want me to dress how I always have just because we’re together,” you said.
“At the rally, you should really go full-out, you know like to make him jealous,” Tricia suggested.
“Do you think he’s still coming to the party?” you asked the group.
“Unless you specifically told him that you weren’t going, I'm sure he’ll be there,” one girl said.
For the rest of the day, you thought about what she said. It seemed silly to be trying to make him jealous when that was what caused the argument in the first place. You mostly feel like his comments were out of line and you didn’t want to really piss him off, just toy him around a little. The day went by quickly, all the teachers figured that most students wouldn’t be paying attention today. You could see the anticipation building among your peers. Halloween only lands on a Friday every 7 years and everyone was buzzing about that. The student body was slowly filling the gym, getting ready for the prep rally. All the cheerleaders were in a separate room waiting to go on. Morty had texted you asking where you were going to be. You told him your usual spot and showed Tricia.
“This is even more of a reason to go full out,” she said.
“I would go full out regardless of if I had a boyfriend or not,” you said.
After waiting for 15 more minutes it was time for the team to perform. It was easy to pick Morty out of the crowd, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t happy to see him. He was smiling at you and it made you feel bad for leaving him. Your coach made a routine using Nicki Minaj’s Monster Verse. It was nice having a couch that was younger and understood the new generation of cheer better. You were feeling amazing, They made the lighting in the gym red which gave it a really cool vibe. Normally prep rallies really sucked and nobody ever really engages. Today being Halloween and Friday everyone was more willing to be involved. Chanting and volunteering for the little games and events. Morty was at the bottom of the bleachers, which made you eye level to each other. You could see that he was taking pictures of you which made you roll your eyes. The crowd and music were so loud as you were performing, that all you could focus on was him. He looked so cute and the fact that he was smiling the entire time was warming your heart. After you were done performing, the school was dismissed. Technically there was still half of the last period left but nobody went back to class. As you walked out of the gym, Morty greeted you.
“Did you think I was showing off too much at the rally?” you asked sarcastically to make a point.
“I thought you looked hot, look I didn’t mean to offend you for real. You’re my girlfriend of course. I don't like sharing your body with other people’s eyes. I should have told you how good you looked beforehand,” he admitted, grabbing your hand and walking by your side.
“I appreciate you for looking at things from my point of view. Sorry for not texting you back this morning,” you said, giving him a kiss on his cheek.
“It’s okay I figured you were pissed,” he said laughing.
“I have to go, a couple of girls and I are going to Tricia’s house to get ready for her party,” you said.
“Come to my house and get ready, you have all your stuff in your duffle right?” he asked.
“Yeah but I don’t know I promised her,” you sighed.
“I’ll stop for food on the way,” he said trying to convince you; it worked.
Morty had been driving his dad’s car around for a while. The two of them got into a huge blowout over his dad not keeping a job. Morty was doing a paid internship for a chemistry teacher at the local college. Long story short Morty had to take over the payments of the car. Morty was about to take you home after hanging out after school and his dad said no because he hadn’t taken out the trash for the past two days. Morty blew up at him, he looked his dad dead in the eye and told him he was the new man of the house. Ridiculed him for not having income and then having the audacity to take away something Morty paid for. You had never seen Morty so mad, his face was bright red and his eyes were wild. You would never admit this but something is different about Morty for the past couple of months. Ever since his internship, he’s been on a short fuse and a God complex. You summed it up to him becoming more confident in himself and how could you be mad at that? When he took you home he drove so fast yet controlled that it scared you a bit.
Once you went through the Burger King drive-thru you made it back to his house. You were pretty sure Beth didn’t like you because every time you came into the house she never acknowledged you. He pulled you upstairs and into his room, he always had his LED lights set to red and it always smells like stale pot/tobacco smoke. His closet door was a mirror so you laid out a towel and started recurring your hair and re-doing your make-up. After throwing his backpack into the corner of the room, he walked over to his stereo and played Pumpkins Scream In the Dead of Night at full volume. He then plopped down on his bed and started packing a bowl into his slightly dirty bong. You were picking your french fries in between teasing certain parts of your hair. Morty walked over and stood directly above you and blew a huge bong rip down on you.
“Ugh! Boo-Boo don’t do that you know I don’t like that,” you said trying to waft some of the smoke out of your face. In response, he playfully humped the back of your head causing you to fall back a little. This made him laugh so hard that you couldn’t help but join him.
“Are you dressing up?” you asked him.
“No, I’m just going to sell while I’m there,” he said, referring to Tricia’s party.
“Only weed right?” you asked.
“I promised you nothing else right?” he asked rhetorically.
“I’m just making sure,” you said, spraying your hair with a final layer of hair spray.
When you were finally finished, you took your clothes off and changed into your costume. When you turned around, Morty was rolling a blunt that wasn’t what surprised you. It was the huge sack of weed on his bed, seriously as big as your ass. You questioned whether it was safe to be taking all that but he assured you it would be secure in the car and of course, the fact that he carried it. The two of you took some selfies in the mirror before leaving. He of course made sure to compliment how good you looked which made you roll your eyes. Once you got to the party Tricia was a little sad that you didn’t come to get ready with all the girls but was happy to see you and Morty had worked things out. Normally you don’t smoke at all but after two shots, the idea of a blunt was rather intriguing. Morty was sitting in the arm of the chair and you were leaning back, pressed against him. The entire house was encased in smoke, it was like no matter where you went you couldn’t get a breath of oxygen. Morty walk talking with one of his buddies who were laughing and fucking around. You were holding a solo cup that was filled with cherry vodka sour, it was staining your lips a bright red. The only thing you had eaten all day was the Burger King after school so the weed and alcohol were hitting you heavily. You could tell Morty noticed because he was holding on to your waist as if you were going to lose balance. You turned around so that you were facing him, his eyes were red, the same as yours. He pulled you close and asked if you were doing okay.
“I wish we could go trick -hiccup- or treating like we used to,” you said giggling.
“Yeah, I miss when things were simple,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.
“I know I’m fucked up but have you been like… okay lately? You seem darker,” you drunkenly try to explain.
“I’m just becoming more aware of the bullshit around me. I’m fine, you’re fine; we’re fine,” he reassured you.
“I’m sorry I blew up at you last night, I’m having a really good time with you,” you said, giving him a peck on the lips.
“I love you,” he blurted out
“I love you too,” you said almost as fast as he said it. This was the first time you’d ever said I love you to each other. Even though you were both a little cross-faded, it still felt so personal and special. After about another hour you head back to his house and well… ya know if ya know.
#rick and morty#rick and morty halloween#Halloween fanfic#morty x reader#aged up morty smith#morty smith x reader#rick and morty fanfic#rick and morty season 7#evil morty x reader#morty smith#rick and morty fanfiction#rick and morty fandom
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KINKTOBER MASTERLIST.
“𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓮𝓪𝓽. 𝓱𝓲𝓶. 𝓾𝓹.“↴
⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧
FUNERAL. {R}
↳ skepta x Joey badass x reader.
CLOSER. {R}
↳ Lamelo ball x reader.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
(Coming soon…)
#black fanfic writer#black fanfiction#black!reader#masterlist#black reader#black actors#black!fem!reader#black!oc#black writer#female writers#blackwriters#smut#halloween smut#kinktober#halloween masterlist#halloween fic#halloween fanfic#black!writer#henneseyhoe
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