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anyone who follows from my old account, gimme a shoutout and i’ll follow back :)

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Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

Darkness Within the Light

Chapter 2 of a Dwayne Stephens x Latina!Pregnant!Witch!OC

Warnings: depictions of violence, descriptions of grief and homelessness, threats on life, foul language and adult situations. All readers are responsible for their own media intake, if you’re a minor, it is not my responsibility to decide what is or isn’t appropriate for your viewing.

Summary: Jessamine is new to Santa Carla and mostly fully aware of the strange occurrences that plague the small town. Running away from one large problem into what could be another one isn’t going to deter her from doing whatever it takes to make her unborn child safe again.

Jessamine felt as though there were many reasons as to why events happened the way they did. She was very much a believer in the whole “everything happens for a reason” faith system. However, that didn’t mean she always liked it and was prone to acting less reasonably than she felt she should.

Like now, for instance, as she argued with a local peace officer for parking outside of the police station to rest. In her very much valid defense, she had been driving a very long time to a place that was mostly unfamiliar to her. It was in her best interest to settle down in or near a place that’s entire purpose was to protect and service her. What was so difficult to understand about that?

“Ma’am, I understand completely, but you are not permitted to park your van outside of a police station without an appointment or permit. You’ve given neither and are therefore loitering, which is prohibited,” the surly officer explained. The bright, hot morning sun sparkled off his badge, obscuring his name, but that wasn’t something Jessamine particularly cared about this early.

“Yes, I know, you’ve said so three times, all without letting me fully explain myself. Which is why I haven’t the faintest clue as to what you supposedly ‘understand’ because I haven’t said anything,” Jessamine rambled, tired and frustrated beyond comprehensible belief. “I’m new to town, I just arrived late last night. I don’t know any of the hotels or temporary testing spots and this seemed the safest place to be. So much for serve and protect.”

The cop blistered considerably at her jibe, his fair complexion darkening to a worrying shade of rose in irritation. “Ma’am, it really wasn’t a wise decision to travel to a new place without a previously planned place to stay,” he chided her, shifting his weight to readjust himself in the sweltering heat.

Jessamine took in a deep breath and asked the Great Mother for guidance. She counted out just a few seconds silently, before allowing her breath to flow from her lips and join the countless particles in the surrounding air.

“I do have a place to stay, I was not in the right physical condition to continue driving. As I previously said. I did not mean to cause such a commotion but I was on the verge of losing consciousness at the wheel and would’ve preferred to not have broken a few more serious laws in the process,” she explained as calmly and politely as she possibly could, closing her eyes to envision her self control as if it were a tangible thing.

She imagined herself grasping it and holding it close to her chest to act as a healing balm from her more scattered thoughts. It wrapped around her coolly, bringing down her spiritual and emotional temperature to something more manageable and less distracting.

“I will take my leave now, officer, if you could just point me to the library,” Jessamine sighed languidly, fluttering her eyes back open to see the cop’s disapproving but slightly relieved gaze.

“You’ll find that most public spaces are on the same road, the main one, that branches off between the boardwalk and grandpa’s ranch,” he pointed out, literally pointing in the direction of where she ought to go.

“Grandpa?” She tilted her head questioningly, the spark of recognition flaring in her eyes. “I wasn’t aware everyone called him that.”

The cop laughed loudly from his belly, a lot more at ease knowing she wasn’t some young tourist looking to make trouble. “It’s not as if the old coot could be confused for anything else. I swear that geezer has been past his prime since the day I was born. Every year I think the city council is gonna grant him ‘historical landmark’ status,” he chuckled at his own jokes, obviously knowing the man fondly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, he has a habit a becoming a local treasure where ever he goes,” the young woman went along, hoping to end the conversation now that she’d gotten what she’d wanted.

The cop readjusted himself once more and placed his wide and stubby hands around his utility belt, also eager to get to a cooler environment. The sun bear down mercilessly, not a cloud to shield the surface from the heaven’s rays, and staying exposed for an extended amount of time was sure to give one heatstroke.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, little miss, just don’t let me catch you loitering on public property again. Stay in parking spaces or get a permit, ya’ hear?” His stern warning combined with a chastising finger wave did nothing to intimidate her as he might have hoped, but she played along for the outing of the situation.

“Yes, sir, you won’t hear a peep about me,” she agreed gratefully, getting extremely lucky when her old faithful van started on the third raucous twist of her key and wheezed to life. She drove off with a small flutter of her ringed fingers and pulled out of the parking lot. Much to her relief, the officer who’s name she never learned quickly took the opportunity to head back to his ventilated work environment.

Readjusting her review mirror, she analyzed all of the signs on all of the local shops and vendors that made up the entire center of Santa Carla. She drove by so many ice cream shops, diners, gift emporiums and convenience stores that they all blended together. They were all perfect for tourists, especially those who valued the “small town charm” that these shops exuded. There wasn’t a single pharmacy, clinic or any singular building along the strip that was for locals or permanent residents. Jessamine figured that all local practices were private so that the main public income could come from tourist revenue. The only building that was serviced to both local and foreign visitors was the library, and it stood out like a black beacon against a neon background.

Almost literally. While every other shop or store in the area was printed with long faded, but once bright colors, the library itself was donned in various hues of black, brown and grey. Also unlike the other businesses, it stood tall, nearly able to block out the sun with its sheer height. Even the architectural design was different, obviously older and better maintained. There was no chipping of the shutters or cracks in the stone pavement and steps below the large, iron-wrought double doors.

Jessamine honestly felt a bit insecure with her eyesore of a van being parked outside such a place, with dirt and dust caked along the edges, covering the dull paint job of what was supposed to be a vibrant medley of yellows, purples and greens. She tried to dampen the slight shame and fell into a new habit of hers whenever she became stressed and needed to reassure someone that she knew what she was doing.

Placing a hand upon her stomach, her palm slightly sinking into the fat as close as she could without compressing her baby, she began to comfort her unborn child. Logically, she knew that her baby wouldn’t actually be harmed if she placed the full weight of her hand into her stomach, but she didn’t like feeling like the child was crowded within her womb.

“Our Great Mother has kept us safe thus far and continues to bless our ongoing journey, lovey. May she continue to guide us along a safe and happy path while we devote our faith and practices in her name. We must face yet another obstacle in our journey, but it is nothing we can’t handle. We have a home now, there will be no more scavenging for food or fighting over sleeping spots. Let us be off, then,” Jessamine concluded, giving a small kiss to the medallion that hung from her neck.

Usually she would talk to the Great Mother for comfort or. . . him. But she couldn’t anymore, not directly without setting off a chain of events best left alone, as least as long as it took to guarantee her safety. Guiding her child along the right life way was the next best option. But oh, how she missed the comfort of receiving Great Mother’s celestial guidance, a potent and visceral anomaly that she cherished greatly.

Jerking her door violently and having to shove her entire body weight just to open it, she nearly fell onto the sidewalk when it gave way. Dusting herself off and fighting her clothing and hair into a somewhat less unkempt position, she grabbed a large binder with all of her legal papers and approached the large double doors of the library.

Even though her van wasn’t parked all that far away from the library, the young brunette felt all the more intimidated by the sheer power that the large, ancient building gave off. Invisible to the naked eye, but all too clear to those with a deeper sense of the surface plane, like Jessamine. She knew she had no reason to be so cautious around this new place. It was a place of safety. An escape. A sanctuary. A new home to raise her miracle baby and hone her magic to keep them safe. Although the “Murder Capital of the World” wasn’t the ideal place to start a family, it would serve her purposes, and maybe even be a permanent place to settle.

Jessamine was a witch, or Wiccan, if you prefer. An individual in touch with their spirituality and nature and the energy around them. Before this, before the accident and the move, Jessamine wasn’t a particularly powerful witch. And when in her own body, she didn’t carry much of a presence. She spent most of her time on the astral plane, simply absorbing the cosmic power and communicating with the Great Mother. She had a job, of course, a role within her coven.

Just like she was trying to become here, in Santa Carla, she was a historian. She kept track of every known magical artifact or objects with Wiccan significance. Another one of her duties was to translate the runes and glyphs used on maps or in inscriptions or written by Elders in diaries. She also did research on the importance of maintaining or locating said items so that the Coven Council would approve on expeditions to extract those items. She wasn’t one for exertion or physical labor, she was too open-spirited. It made it very difficult to focus on the physical world around her for long periods of time. It’s very dangerous to be separated from your body for long periods of time without protection. Especially in risky environments. She wasn’t the only person who did such research and she wasn’t the most dangerous person who looked for them.

The natural enemy of most modern Wiccan were dark practitioners, people who abused the Great Mother’s gifts for dangerous and harmful purposes. There was no such thing as a dark or evil object or spell. In order for that to be, there’s have to be a dark energy, and such didn’t exist. All energy is ambivalent at best, and geared towards universal balance. Wiccans are those who can hone and use energy as a corporeal thing that can suit one’s purpose. Spells are words that act as hands for that energy. Objects are a talisman to contain energy that can be used later on and influenced by its user. Dark practitioners manipulate the natural forced for malignant intentions. Magic is simply how it is used, which is why there are so many different types.

Jessamine wasn’t well suited to go against dark practitioners, not physically or magically. And certainly not while pregnant. Pregnancy is a natural magic that anyone can register. It is beautiful and powerful, but very dangerous on mothers. It’s not a necessary magic and many choose not to indulge or witness it. And while pregnancy had drastically increased her power, she needed the time and space to get used to the energy that was granted to her. Wiccan who simply use the energy to feel it aren’t particularly knowledgeable or powerful, especially when so young as she was.

That’s why, after muttering a small safety spell and then a luck spell, she mustered up all the courage she possessed and marched through those big, dark doors into what would hopefully be her pathway to a new life.

The entryway opened up to a lobby area and through a revolving door was the actual library. Unlike most modern libraries, there were no computers or phones of any kind. The lobby where Jessamine stood held five iron baskets that were each filled to the brim with newspapers, each one topped with that day’s paper. There were no people that Jessamine could see or sense. No that it mattered, Wiccans we’re good at obscuring their presences if needed. Beyond the lobby, there wasn’t a single person among the huge book shelves, nor at the numerous long tables, nor behind the help desks. It were as though the place was closed or abandoned, despite the doors being unlocked and the lights illuminating the entire building along with the afternoon sunlight.

Grabbing a newspaper, Jessamine sat down in an old and uncomfortable lobby chair and pretended to occupy herself until life made itself known within the library. She was just finishing up the extremely extensive Missing Persons section before she heard a slight shuffling to her right and was startled to find an odd looking young man right in front of her. He was tall and thin, he looked to be of Asian descent, with large, thick spectacles making his brown eyes look owlish. He silently stared at her curiously, his fingers intertwined and laying limply atop his pelvis. He didn’t look to be all that much older than she did, maybe about two to four years her senior. His long-sleeved button up was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked beneath his belted corduroy slacks.

“What are you doing here?” His low voice was smooth and quiet, a bit of a lilt revealing that he wasn’t a native to California, but Jessamine couldn’t quite place it. His rather odd wording also told her exactly why no one besides her was here.

“I applied to work here because you were urgently hiring,” she answered silkily, ignoring his mannerisms. Something told her that there was more to him than just a simple, small town librarian.

“You’re a long way from Vermont, Miss Marcel, and in no condition to be doing what you’re doing,” he chastised her, wagging a disproving finger in her face as though she were some disobedient child.

Making a face, she grabbed his finger within her own fist and held it away from her. “Yes, the undead population here is a tad bit more concerning than what I had initially anticipated.”

He yanked back his finger as though she had burned him and grabbed her binder, flipping through it, his facial features occasionally twitching as he took in the information she provided.

“The vampire problem is being handled appropriately. However there isn’t much to do about the werewolf working the council, and she hasn’t attacked anyone yet, anyway. Besides, you know that’s not what I was referring to,” he insisted while not looking at her at all.

“I’m not looking for anything here other than a job. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, and I don’t expect you to outright believe me, but I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I haven’t the faintest clue as to what’s going on over there, only that me and my child aren’t safe. This library is a safe haven unless threatened, and I am no threat. At least not to you,” she assuaged, dragging back the brown leather binder to her chest and cradling it.

The taller man considered her suspiciously, taking in her slightly haggard appearance and desperate brown eyes. “But you mean to become a threat for someone, no?”

“Not anyone who wasn’t a threat to me first. If it’s any consolation, I don’t know who’s after me, or why. But they killed the father of my child and it seems to have something to do with me. I want no part in whatever grapple for power is going down in that part of the country. I intend to make this my home and make a life for my baby here,” she swore, leveling him with a determined stare.

He swallowed at the severity of her words, the ingenuity leeching out of every pore, in a way that only a mother could manage. He knew who she was before coming here and he wasn’t particularly concerned about the potential consequences. He was powerful enough to take on any sinister forces and it wasn’t like he was the only supernatural being in Santa Carla willing to shed blood to protect their livelihoods. Plus, he could feel that baby, there was more about this entire situation and he knew the Great Mother would prefer him to protect her wounded daughter than return her to her original coven.

“My name is Leighten Waters, I am the librarian of the Santa Carla Public Library as well as the magik head of this region. I am in great need of a historian and welcome your expertise and qualifications. Allow me to explain your duties and lead you to your new living arrangements.”

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End of Chapter 2

Tbh, i’m not that happy with it because it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the plot and isn’t that interesting but don’t worry, lovelies, it’s all for world building and the introduction of the OC

I know this chapter doesn’t give off much about her, but I just wanted to build a foundation before I got into anything else. We will be learning more about her and her backstory in later chapters and i’m planing on having her meet Dwayne soon ;)

Oop sorry spoilers, but that’s all for now, i hope y’all enjoy and stay interested bc there’s a lot more to come. Pls like, share, reblog, send asks and comments

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Horizon (Twilight Saga AU)

God, I completely changed everything.

Chapters Pending

Things I changed from the original so y'all can decide if y'all wanna read it:

Bella is a lot more...energetic (eccentric) and interesting (insane) in my version. (this entire version was heavily inspired by @divyasoup 's twilight meme of Bella in place of IASIP!Charlie in front of the conspiracy board. it was beautiful)

Her and Rosalie have much better relationship, it's more defender/defendee. They bond over the fact that Rosalie has always wanted a child and Bella never was one (I love Charlie, but him and Renee spent the entirety of Bella's childhood treating her like an adult) (also I need to clarify that Rosalie does not treat Bella like a child because Bella is not a child. She simply is always on Bella's side and tries to take care of her. Bella has canonically always wanted someone to actually take care of her.)

HEAR ME OUT HOTTAKE: Instead of Edward, Bella will be paired with Jasper. And their trope with be tolerant frenemies- to friends - to lovers.

Jacob and Bella are chaotic!elder sister and annoying little brother. There will be no dumbass, inane love triangle. The tribe's stories are taken seriously and Jacob knows he's the future alpha. Charlie and Bella are aware of the tribal laws and stories.

The Cullens pay "mortgage" to the rez in exchange for the wolves allowing them to live in Forks. This funds schools, hospitals, and recreational facilities. They aren't close though.

Emmett goes nuts about Bella (chaos twins is a recurring theme because it's my favorite headcanon)

ANYWAYS, my retelling is funny, and emotional and I think it'll be enjoyable for a pretty niche audience.

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need a part two! tag me pls! this was such a good read😍

one thing about spencer reid? he’s going to think a pretty girl flirting with him is ‘just being nice’. every. single. time.

it’s beginning to drive the rest of the bau crazy, the way their smartest member is so oblivious to your coquetry. every time you came to visit your brother, hotch, at his job, you made sure you wouldn’t leave until that boy was flushed a nice crimson red that would haunt him for the rest of the day. you knew who you were dealing with, and you were in it for the long haul.

you’ve had a small thing for spencer ever since you first met him, shortly after he joined the team. you and your brother were really close growing up, so it wasn’t unusual for you to stop by after you finished up in your classroom for the day, usually flashing a bright smile and a pink box of donuts. the rest of the team viewed you as their little sister, too, but that small thing you’ve had for spencer had blossomed into a full blown crush.

the members of your brother’s team have become a second family to the both of you, and you were quite aware of spencer’s track record with women- or lack thereof. you couldn’t quite wrap your brain around the fact that nobody’s snatched him up yet, but you couldn’t complain. it was almost too easy to rile him up, to get him flustered, and you took pride in being the one to make him blush.

you made your way through the bullpen, stopping by to see your brother first. as he reached for the box of donuts, you slapped his hand away, causing him to roll his eyes.

“what? you didn’t stop to see boy genius first?” he teased.

“nope,” you replied, popping the p, “just wanted to say hi first. i’ve missed you!” it had been a few weeks since you had last visited your brother and his teammates, and you had missed the feeling of camaraderie that they extended to you.

“i’ve missed you too, kid,” he responded, and after a minute or so of catch up, you saw your brother’s eyes wander above your head, looking out from the window in his office into the bullpen. your gaze followed his, and a smile grew on your face as you saw spencer rush to turn his head back to his desk, desperately hoping you didn’t catch him staring. but you did. you always do.

your brother let you go shortly thereafter, knowing of your very obvious feelings for the agent. plus, he knew nobody was getting a donut until you went and talked to him. you made a point to reserve the privilege of the first pick for spencer only, much to the annoyed endearment of his coworkers.

“hi handsome!” you chirped, setting down the box of donuts on his desk, your free hand coming to rest in his forearm. “first pick for the sweetest guy in the office,” you crooned, batting your lashes as you hopped up to sit on his desk.

“y-you don’t have to give me first pick every time, you know,” he muttered shyly, still reaching out to grab his favorite kind, “not that i don’t appreciate it!” he then rushed out, rambling in the adorable way only spencer can achieve, “i do appreciate it- i mean- you’re so sweet and you look gorgeous today-” he pursed his lips, physically stopping himself from digging a deeper hole. his tomato red face with eyes that were squeezed shut were now turned to the ground.

you smirked. you were an expert at getting him flustered, sure, but he normally always had control over the things he said to you. your heart fluttered at the fact that he couldn’t help but tell you how gorgeous you looked, something he’s never been confident enough to say.

you lifted his chin with two fingers, leaned in so your faces were inches apart, and in your most saccharine tone, replied, “thank you, handsome. you look nice too, is this a new sweater?” you eyed the never before seen cream colored cable knit that adorned his broad chest. you’d never been more thankful for fall weather until this very moment.

“it is, t-thank you for noticing,” he stuttered out, completely frozen in his spot, his head not daring to move away from your touch.

“you’re welcome,” your lilted voice and the removal of your fingers on his face left him hot and cold at the same time. you caught him shuddering as you hopped off his desk and turned to grab the box of donuts, the one he chose earlier was nearly smushed between his hand and his desk, suffering the consequences of what you did to him. “i’m going to go make the rest of the rounds. it was good to see you though, as always.” you smiled before walking away.

you didn’t need to look back to know that he had immediately swiveled his chair in your direction the second you walked away, eyes locked on your retreating figure. check and mate.

you made your way through the rest of the team, receiving hugs from each one of them as they each emptied out the box, one by one. just like you made a point to start with spencer, you also made a point to end with penelope. she was your closest friend on the squad, and seeing her last meant ample gossip time in the privacy of her office.

after you’d gushed to her about every single last detail of your conversation with spencer, you saw a lightbulb appear above penelope’s head.

“oh!” she squealed, hands grabbing your wrist, “we’re all going out tonight, please come with us! i honestly think if you don’t make a move on him soon he’s going to explode,” you two giggled, but a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach.

“i don’t know, nelly,” you said, your turn to be shy now as your gaze focused on her hands in yours. “it’s been fun flirting with him, obviously, but what if that’s all he thinks this is? what if he wants nothing to do with me beyond that? i’d rather be stuck in this limbo with him forever than get rejected and not be able to talk to him.”

“oh hun,” penelope muttered, “i don’t think it’s humanly possible for him to reject you. spencer may be easily flustered, but the way he behaves when you’re around is completely unprecedented, even for him. he’s crazy about you, i promise.”

and with that, you found yourself squished between jj and penelope at the bar, eyes locked on the back of spencer’s head as he ordered something from the bar. all the girls there tonight knew of your mission to finally make a move toward spencer, thanks to penelope. their giddiness made you feel like you were in grade school again, but you would be lying if you said that, plus the free drinks you’ve been getting from the team tonight were instilling you with the exact same excitement.

you’d managed to squeeze your way over to the bar, standing next to him and resting your hand on the small of his back.

“hey spencer,” you said gently as he took a sip of his drink.

“hi! i didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he shot you that gorgeous smile and you were a goner. you knew in that moment that if you didn’t do something soon, you also might explode.

“yeah, penelope convinced me with the allure of free drinks. couldn’t say no,” you smiled, and you naturally stood taller after making him giggle.

a thick silence then fell over the two of you, the liquid courage you’d both been consuming that night along with the fact that you were no longer in a professional setting allowed the both of you to turn toward each other, inching closer ever so slightly.

“listen, spencer,” you said lowly, “i know- i know i flirt with you a lot, and i just wanted to say-” before you could finish, he cut you off.

“oh! oh no, you don’t- you don’t have to say anything, i get it. it’s just flirting and that’s fine, there’s no need for a formal rejection, don’t feel like you have to let me down easy or anything,” his rambling came out a bit slurred, and it dawned on you that you’d underestimated how much he had to drink so far.

your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped, and you wondered if you heard him correctly. he thought you were just flirting? he really thought that’s all this was this whole time? your thought process was interrupted by the sight of his back now facing you, walking back to the table of detectives. it was then you realized in your state of shock, you never said anything back to him. your stomach dropped and you wondered if it was biologically possible for your heart to literally break into a million pieces inside your chest. after all this time, you’d blown it with spencer reid.

penelope saw him walk back to the bar alone, and quickly clocked your expression from the other side of the bar. she shot you a quizzical look and you couldn’t bear to even think about what just happened. you simply turned, grabbed your bag, and walked out of the bar. you didn’t bother to say goodbye, too humiliated to go face the table with spencer there, but you knew they all cared about you too much to let you leave just like that.

as if she could read your mind, you heard the clicking of penelope’s heels approach you from behind, and you sighed. you slowly turned to face her, and her face softened seeing the mascara black tears that were now streaking down your face.

“oh honey, what happened?” she asked, taking your hands.

you shook your head, more tears falling at a rapid pace. “it’s just not going to happen, penelope. i’ll be okay, don’t worry about me,” you tried to downplay the situation as you saw your uber approaching, desperate to rid yourself of this night altogether.

“first of all, it’s not possible for me to not worry about you. second of all, would you like me to come home with you? i don’t mind, if you want some company,” penelope responded.

“no, that’s okay,” you shook your head, “thank you though. you’re the best, but i just kind of want to be alone right now,” you nearly whimpered, more tears falling off your jaw and hitting the ground.

“okay, i’ll let your brother know where you went. text me when you get home, okay?” penelope said as you went to get into the car.

“i will, thank you,” you gave her the biggest smile you could muster, which, albeit, was barely an uptick of your top lip.

you rested your head against the window and shut your eyes. after so much time, you genuinely had no idea where to start with getting over spencer reid.

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forever samblogging like my life depends on it

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In The Room Where You Sleep

Summary: Dalton was just being curious and stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t have. He then does something he shouldn’t have.

Warnings: Mentions of the Further, mentions of entities, Dalton being a creep, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), sexual fantasies

All credit to @glodessa who wrote the imagine that inspired this, so much talent there and you’re feeding my Dalton addiction

Dalton was your friend. His primary art class was in the studio next to the orchestra rooms where you practiced in. He’d wandered in on you playing a section piece on the violin after he’d forgotten that his class was cancelled.

Since you two had obviously seen each other on multiple occasions when going to and leaving from class, he’d felt comfortable striking up a conversation. He usually wasn’t into initiating introductions, but Chris had started forcing him to interact with more people and make friends. You were the first person he had introduced himself to without her assistance.

In a way, he felt a sick sense of possession when it came to you because of that. It made him feel funny, like he was gross and he tried to stomp it down, but it would crawl it’s way up his throat whenever you talked to him. He’d met you all on his on, without a buffer or cleverly charming segue. You knew him for him from the get go, and still liked him. You liked him enough to start waiting for him before classes for a chat. You liked him enough to exchange contacts and let him take pictures of you to save for his own personal enjoyment put into his saved contacts.

You liked him enough to let him walk you back to your dorms every time he had the chance to. Which he did, considering he started walking a different path to insure that he would run into you more often.

He didn’t think he was odd, not really. Lots of friends took secret pictures of each other. For fun, it was funny, like a secret joke. And lots of friends walked together in between classes, it was normal. Even if they didn’t share certain classes. Or if one of the friends wasn’t completely aware that the other friend was nearby.

Dalton didn’t consider it strange that he didn’t like when you talked to Chris, or any of his other friends. Or anyone that might find you attractive. In his eyes, that should’ve meant everyone. You were gorgeous and people should be falling over themselves trying to be with you, in his opinion. But you were his. His friend, at least. And he hated not having your full attention.

Nighttime was the worst, in some ways. You two had met up on occasion to help each other study or wind down from an intense test. But most nights, you turned in early to spend time with your roommate. Dalton hated your roommate, she was so clingy and always convinced you to go back to the dorms, cutting off his time with you. He thought she was off, or at least very selfish, and that she used every opportunity to guilt you and take advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Dalton would never do that, he was lucky to get to be your friend. You were beautiful, talented, kind and accepting. You even accepted his ability of astral projection without hesitation. You were beyond perfect to him, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you. Constantly, and usually aloud, much to Chris’ annoyance.

“Dolphin! Please, for the love of fuck, ask that girl out already. You’re driving me nuts!” She threw herself back onto the spare bed in Dalton’s dorm in dramatic agony, groaning loudly in complaint.

“No, Chris. She’ll just think that I became friends with her because I wanted to get in her pants,” he dismissed, tossing a dirty t-shirt into his hamper a little too forcefully.

“Isn’t that what all guys do? What’s the big deal?” Chris sat up again to try to convince him. It wasn’t the first time either, but she was almost positive that you liked Dalton back and would rather you keep his mouth too occupied for him to verbally obsess over you. Like he was doing right now.

“I’m not going to do that, Chris. Just drop it.” His voice was unnervingly firm and Chris snapped her mouth shut before another incentive could fall out. Dalton was usually mild-mannered, at least when it came to anyone but his dad, not really the aggressive type. Anti-social and surly, but not aggressive. Unless it had something to do with you.

Chris thought there was something not quite right about Dalton’s crush on you but she figured his abnormal childhood and resulting trauma made it hard for him properly process his feelings. And she was reluctant to ask in case it set him off.

“I heard her roommate is going home to her parents’ for her dad’s birthday, maybe y’all can hang out more this weekend,” Chris suggested instead, unfettered by Dalton’s tone. “She left earlier this afternoon.”

Something seized in Dalton’s chest. You hadn’t mentioned that to him. You didn’t have a reason not to. Was there someone else? Were you going to spend the whole weekend with another guy? Did you have a boyfriend? Anger and hatred for this secret man clouded his mind and he felt like throwing something against the wall until it broke.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” he replied to Chris coolly. “I’ve got some homework to finish, do you mind?”

Chris nodded slowly, grabbing her bag and quickly making her way to the door, watching Dalton worriedly. She gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and left without a word.

As soon as the door shut, he quickly locked it, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging thoughtlessly towards his desk, knocking over a small stack of his sketchbooks and a tin of water. Cursing under his breath, Dalton begrudgingly trudged to clean up the mess before the water could stain or damage any of his work.

After mopping up the water, he flipped through his drawings to check if any of it ruined the paper. One of the sketchbooks was relatively new, but nearly full of pencil and ink sketches. Of you.

Most of them took up an entire page of their own. They were innocent, somewhat, just candids that he’d done while or after hanging out with you. You smiling, laughing, playing the violin, biting your lip awkwardly. Gorgeous and sweet.

There were some other ones, smaller in comparison to the rest and done with a light hand. You changing through the window of your room. You bending over at work. You crying to your mom on the phone after you tore your favorite dress right before a date you ended up not going on. Done in a hurry by someone who was sketching without a still reference.

It was not stalking. No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t threaten you or send you lewd messages. He didn’t get off on scaring you or making you feel unsafe. He wanted you to feel safe around him, did everything in his power to make sure you were always comfortable with him. Plus, he never invaded your privacy, he just looked. Watched. It was friendly, protective even.

Plus, those sketches were nothing compared to the rest. Small enough for three separate drawings to fit on a page, and darkly filled in with a heavy and rough hand.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He was a guy. You were his crush. He couldn’t control his own thoughts, let alone his dreams. It happened, and it was completely normal and natural. Not at all creepy or perverted.

He dreamt of you often. He couldn’t keep his mind off you even in his sleep. Of course, his unconscious mind was different than his conscious mind. Mostly, anyway. A lot more eager for you, hungry for you.

The pencil drawings were of you as you appeared to him in his dreams. Bent over his desk, wearing a string of pearls and a sultry smile. You, on his bed with your legs spread out invitingly, your fingers scissoring your slick folds. There was even one featuring him, his lower face dripping with drool and your arousal as his tongue delved into your wet heat from under you. That one was his favorite, even if the drawing itself wasn’t exactly his best work skill-wise. He had a hard time balancing the pad with only one hand, which he was also using to draw.

Dalton sighed and picked up all of the sketch pads, putting them back where they were and collapsing on his back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should bring up your roommate leaving and confront you about not telling him. You must have had a good reason, right? It’s not like you were getting tired of him or anything. Right?

As he drifted further and further into his thoughts, the room became darker around him. Standing up to fix his lamp, he caught the sight of himself sleeping in his peripheral. He’d fallen asleep and accidentally projected.

He didn’t do so often anymore, the Further was a scary and dangerous place and he was cautious of bringing something back with him. But it had its advantages, for pranks or finding out things that others couldn’t. Surprisingly, he’d never used his ability to watch you. You were too pure and beautiful to see through the lenses of the Further, he liked seeing you surrounded by light and color, with no potential of evil spirits ruining the experience for him.

But just this once…

No! He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

You trusted him, it would be so easy. And it’s not like he was trying to be a weirdo, he just wanted to see if you had plans that weekend without having to actually ask you. It would only be once, for a few minutes. He wouldn’t mess with you or your things. He would just listen in and leave.

He grabbed the lantern and walked out of his room. He could’ve found your dorm with his eyes closed, but since it was in a different building and he was traveling through the Further, it took him longer than he would’ve liked. But at least he didn’t encounter anyone. You lived on the second floor of your dorm house and yours was nicer and more expensive than his. You had your own bedroom and personal bathroom, not having to share with your roommate and the rest of your floor like Dalton did.

Your door was unlocked and after he entered your dorm, he locked it himself, knowing he’d have to unlock again it in order to leave. Your bedroom door was open and he could see you through it, sitting at your desk and typing on your phone. Silently and curiously, he peered over your shoulder to watch you text your roommate.

He rolled his eyes at seeing her contact but ignored it in favor of the messages being sent. Mostly average, just you being your considerate self and asking about her trip home. She, obviously, sent paragraph after paragraph detailing every insignificant second of her weekend away, not once asking anything about you. The entire conversation revolves around her and Dalton had to bite his tongue to avoid scoffing in your ear, which was inches from his mouth.

Finally she asked about you, specifically your plans for while she was gone. Luckily, she could serve a purpose for once, Dalton thought.

You mentioned work, homework and just relaxing and Dalton was tempted to leave and rid himself of his craving to kiss you. Then, he saw you type his name. You wanted to surprise him by inviting him over for a sleepover. Your roommate responded by teasing you about you and Dalton finally progressing to the next stage in your friendship; a relationship.

Huh, maybe your roommate wasn’t as bad as Dalton thought she was.

Dalton’s heart was racing as he continued to read all of your roommate’s suggestions for extremely sexual twists on common sleepover activities, all in order to seduce him. You didn’t have to try to seduce him, but trying any one of these wouldn’t hurt. He felt his cock hardening in his pants and knew that he probably should’ve left. Like, now.

But then you sighed loudly into the empty air. Your head dropped back, your lips parted and you shifted awkwardly in your seat, your thighs pressing together tightly. Dalton felt his mouth water just watching you and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He decided that he would wait until you either went to the bathroom or fell asleep. If he tried leaving before then, you might catch him.

So he stood off to the side and simply observed you from up close. You seemed more deflated when you weren’t around him, less animated and poise. Less…cheery. You continued to stay at your desk texting your roommate for a while before getting up for a glass of water. It seems like she was going to bed. You paced around the kitchen as you sipped your drink, looking slightly anxious about how the conversation ended. Dalton regretted not reading it along with you and now he couldn’t because your phone was off and locked.

Huffing out a tense laugh to yourself, you marched back into your room, passing Dalton to get to your phone. You continued pacing as you opened up your messages and scrolled until you found a particular contact, hesitating for a moment and then opening the chat thread. Dalton stood in front of you this time and read his own name from upside down. Why were you pausing when it came to texting him? Did this happen often? We’re you inviting him over?

He watched you type out a greeting and began pacing in your room. When the message delivered, Dalton panicked before remembering that his phone was next to his actual body. You wouldn’t catch him over his phone notifications sounding off in your otherwise silent room.

You turned off your phone and sat on your bed, your back straight and your eyes staring out into nothingness. Your leg bounced erratically and you started checking your phone every thirty seconds in case you missed his message. You were waiting for a response from him, Dalton realized. And he couldn’t do that while he was standing here with you.

Now was definitely the time to go and you gave him the perfect opportunity when you started collecting your things to take a shower, muttering to yourself about how desperate you were. It was clear that you were agitated from waiting on his message, and he supposed it was because he hardly ever took more than 20 seconds to start typing back. He only took long if he was busy, and he would always tell you beforehand if he was.

As much as he wanted to watch you undress yourself and shower, becoming aroused slightly once more at the idea, he wouldn’t cross that boundary when you were so vulnerable and unaware. It was completely different from the times he watched you change your shirt or remove your bra from outside your window. He was in your home and you were going to be completely naked. Dalton wanted go reserve that honor for when you would strip in front of him eagerly, at least for the first time he ever saw you naked.

*~*~*

Gasping, Dalton sat up in his own bed, his erection pressing against his sweats and his body feeling sweaty. He immediately opened his messages and read your message asking him what he was doing. Getting his own clothing, he walked to the common bathroom in his dorm house and stripped, sending you a picture of his shower stall with the reflection of his bare torso halfway in the frame.

He’d never been so forward with you before. You’d seen him shirtless on occasion, he wasn’t shy about his body, but never on purpose and he hardly ever sent you pictures instead of just telling you what he was doing. But now that he knew you felt the same way he did, he felt confident enough to give actual signals to tell you that.

He turned on the shower and waited for the ancient water settings to actually heat up the water. As he was about to step in, you messaged him back with a photo of your own.

You were wearing nothing but a robe, tied at the waist, but doing a very poor job at concealing your cleavage, and your hair was soaked. The mirror that you had taken the picture in was fogged and he could see streams of steam swirling in the air around your head. So you liked really hot showers, fuck, that was attractive to him. You smiled shyly into the camera with one of your hands clutching a towel in your hands.

You: “I just got out of the shower, how funny is that?”

God, you were adorable without even trying. He wondered if the placement of your robe was intentional or if you were just that sexy without trying to be. It could go either way, you were as effortlessly cunning as you were absurdly oblivious to your affect on others.

He quickly went through his shower routine quickly, not taking his time to enjoy the water and relax like he usually did. He didn’t want to keep you waiting again. He decided to toe the line of flirtation and idle conversation once more by sending you another photo. This time following your lead with a mirror pic. He was still shirtless and brushing his teeth with an overly wide and sud-filled smile. His shorts hung low on his hips and his entire frame was centered in the photo this time.

D: “What’s up?”

It was a lame line, but he wanted to keep the conversation going and see if you were going to invite him over. He spit out his toothpaste and gargled mouthwash, accidentally swallowing some as you replied back. Coughing at the strong taste burning his throat, his eyes widened as he memorized every pixel of the photo you sent, catching on to his little provocation.

The mirror in your bathroom was still slightly fogged but he could clearly see that all you were wearing was a t-shirt. It was big enough to cover your thighs, so Dalton didn’t know what you were wearing under it and he could see your nipples poking through the material ever so slightly. He dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down hard, hand clenching on the edge of the counter. He gathered his shower stuff and walked back to his room, keeping his towel gathered in a ball in front of his crotch in case he ran into anyone this late.

It didn’t occur to him to read the message you sent until he was about to send one himself. He was so distracted by your selfie that he completely forgot that he was in the middle of a conversation with you. He wondered if it was weird to be more turned on by you in your pajamas than you soaking wet and in a towel.

You: “Nothing much? What are you doing right now?”

He sat down on his art stool, and angled the camera at the mirror that sat in the corner between his spare bed and the wall. He hadn’t gotten the motivation to actually put it up so it laid on its side and only showed from his waist down at this angle. The picture showed his bare stomach, shorts and legs, with one of his feet braced up on the leg of his seat.

D: “Chilling in my room now, you?”

You responded a minute later in much the same fashion. This photo didn’t show your face either, but he could see your hair and the junction between your neck and shoulder at the top of the photo. You were stretched out on your bed, your legs propped up in front of you and you holding the weight of your upper body on your other arm as you snapped a photo of yourself. From the way your shirt rode up on your thighs, you weren’t wearing any shorts, but he couldn’t see your underwear.

You: “Same. My roommate left to her parents’ house so I have the place to myself.”

Was this your way of implying that you wanted him to come over? How does he respond to that information without sounding weird or letting on that he’d already known? Should he tell you that he already knew? He decided that now was the perfect time to reorganize his desk and actually put up the mirror in his room. It took fifteen minutes for him to respond and the guilt ate at him now that he knew how you reacted when he didn’t message back quickly.

D: “Oh, really? Yeah, I kinda always have my place to myself, haha :)Look what I finally did.”

The added “haha” looked so stupid that he wanted to jump out his window. He hoped the selfie he sent to you would make up for it. He was standing in front of his mirror, acting as if he was only trying to show you the mirror you’d been bugging him about putting up. He was still shirtless and a light sheen of sweat made his body glow slightly from the exertion of his impromptu redecorating. He angled his phone to show a grin, but the rest of his face was covered.

You took a few minutes to respond yourself and Dalton thought he understood your anxiety about having to wait for messages. He felt the anxiety was all the more potent now that you were sending each other photos of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the tension, the anticipation ate him up and he was beyond keyed up.

You: “I got bored being here by myself so I’m doing my makeup :p”

You: “Oml, finally!”

You were kneeling in front of the camera with your legs slightly spread. The lighting in your room made it hard for him to see what your underwear looked like and he felt like a pervert for being disappointed. Probably not as bad as he would’ve felt before he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Your hair was put up into an updo so it was out of your face and it reminded him of that Pamela Anderson hairdo that you complained about not being able to do. You looked beautiful, your makeup was darker than you normally had it, more like dark seduction than pretty fairy. Dalton wondered if that was on purpose.

He sent you a closeup selfie of half of his face, his eyes mostly angled down at the phone screen instead of the actual camera and a slight smirk on his lips. His neck, collarbones and one of his shoulders were on display for you as well

D: “Guess I got bored too. Your hair looks like Pamela Anderson’s, btw”

D: “I like your makeup, it looks good!”

You responded quickly and without a photo.

You: “Are you joking me?! The one time I’m not bending over backwards trying to do it right…”

Dalton had to take a minute to recover from the mental image of you bending over backwards, particularly the image of how your breasts would look at that angle when your next message came in with another photo.

You: “Come over?”

This time, your phone was placed close to the floor and angled up for Dalton to see your knees pulled up to your chest and you dramatically and exaggeratedly pouted at the camera, your dark red lips shining in the camera flash. The flash also, probably unintentionally, highlighted the junction between your legs and he could actually see your panties this time. White lace. Son of a bitch!

Instead of responding, he jumped around his room and tried to gather all of his shit to take to your place and was pulling up his jacket when he noticed some papers on his bed. His homework that he had told Chris about earlier and completely forgot about. It was due at midnight and his teacher was a hardass about homework.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed loudly in his empty and otherwise silent room and he slammed his things down on the bed in anger.

As desperate as he was to go to your room and potentially spend the night inside you, he was stuck inside his dorm unless he wanted his grade to tank. With a heavy heart and tense motions, he sat in his chair, a different one from his stool, and faced his mirror. He spread his legs so that he was man-spreading and propped a leg up on the edge of his bed. He held up his homework in one hand above his head and made a faux-angry face at the camera, his expression not even making at dent when it came to showing just how angry he actually was. He gave himself a minute of fantasizing about your lips kissing marks all over his body before snapping the picture and sending it to you.

D: “I was on my way when I remembered I had homework. Fucking sucks! Raincheck? I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning?”

He ordinarily didn’t curse over text, or in general. He wasn’t a prude about swearing, but he just didn’t feel the need to do it. However, he also needed you to understand that he wasn’t blowing you off, and then he genuinely was upset about not being able to spend the night with you. He felt it was probably too risky sending you a picture where he was very obviously at half-mast and worried that he was being too forward and would make you uncomfortable.

Two minutes of complete agony imagining all of the ways that you would dismiss him and tell him to forget about it, or get angry and misinterpret what he was telling you. Now that the conversation couldn’t go anywhere, the anticipation wasn’t alluring and fun, it felt like acid burning his skin.

You: “Oh, please do your homework! Grades are important. Breakfast sounds good! Goodnight x”

A kiss, you messaged him a kiss. And you were completely fine with it. For the first time in his life, Dalton felt the urge to do a chest bump with a bro. He was on top of the world right now. He was tempted to rush his homework and run over to you as soon as possible, but as soon as he sat down to do it, he knew that the assignment required all of his time and attention. Fortunately, the assignment itself was relatively simple, but it was incredibly time consuming, which is why he’d been putting it off.

Two hours later, he took some pictures of his completed homework and sent them to his professor’s email. It was fifteen minutes til midnight and he wondered if he should risk going over to you now. You weren’t expecting him, though, and for all he knew, you were asleep or something. He debated texting you that he was done and seeing if you’d extend the invitation to come over again, but you hadn’t even brought up his last picture and that made him a bit insecure. What if you were trying to just ignore it as a way to say you weren’t interested? Even back in your room, when your roommate was encouraging you to take advantage of having your dorm to yourself, you had only denied all of her sexual innuendos. He knew you liked him back, but maybe sending you a picture of like the one he sent was too much too fast?

Oh yeah, astral projector. He could always just pop in and check without actually having to check. It was fine the first time, right? No big deal anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He relaxed on his bed and before long, he was picking up that lantern once more and leaving his body behind, making sure that all of his lights were on to protect his body before he left the room.

You had been in your room with your door mostly closed when he came in again. You really should make sure your front door was locked, he thought. He heard little whimpers coming from your room and was immediately concerned, automatically assuming that you were crying. Your bedroom door was swaying on account of the industrial fan that you insisted was the only thing strong enough to keep you cool at night. He had no problem opening your door and putting it back in place, making it look completely natural in case you noticed.

From what he could see, you were looking at your phone and were mostly covered by your blanket. Only one of your hands was holding your phone, which Dalton found odd because you normally preferred using both hands. Finally seeing your face, Dalton noticed that you had no tears on your cheeks or in your eyes. You weren’t crying. What the hell were you looking at on your phone?

Him. You were looking at a picture of Dalton that he’d sent to you. More accurately, you were looking at the second photo he had sent you, the one where he was brushing his teeth. It took Dalton several moments to begin thinking again to put the dots together.

Oh. Oh.

Just as Dalton registered what you were actually doing, you threw your blanket aside in frustration and essentially showed him that he was correct. He watched in rapt fascination as you rubbed your clothed center over your panties with two fingers. You kept focused on your phone, swiping over to the photo of him after he hung up his mirror, as your index fingers slipped beneath your lacy white underwear and into your slick heat. Your breathing was loud and shallow, the occasional moan slipping through as you touched yourself.

Dalton should not be here. He knew that. He knew what was and what wasn’t appropriate, his mom made sure he knew how to respect women, so he knew what he was doing was the furthest thing from okay. He also knew that he would have to be dragged by his teeth to get him out of your room. His cock swelled and twitched from under his shorts as he stood over, watching you masturbate to a picture of him. In the low lighting of your mostly dark room, he could see the shine of your wetness on your fingers and over your folds. He wanted to drag his tongue over your labia and savor every drop you gave him. It was all for him, after all, he was entitled to it.

You groaned in annoyance through your teeth and yanked your panties down your legs. Dalton’s severely dilated gaze zeroed in on them and he made a mental note to grab them before he left when your shirt joined it in the floor. You were completely nude and sitting up on your bed, in a very similar position to the photo where you had shown him your makeup. He’d never look at it again without thinking of this. He wished he had a picture of this.

You looked like a goddess or some kind of celestial siren as you arched your back and groped at one of your breasts and toyed with your clit. The chill of your room and the sudden banishment of your blanket had your flesh covered in goosebumps and your nipples hard. Dalton wanted nothing more than to cover your body with his and discover new forms of pleasure using his tongue, hands and cock. You were everything, you surrounded him and took up so much everything. And yet, he wasn’t actually with you, no matter how much he wished he could be. He didn’t know why he couldn’t try, you were his now. You admitted to it. Maybe not to him directly, and maybe you didn’t know he was there, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Dalton approached your bed and was about to rest his weight on it when you grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the mountain of pillows you had on your bed. You shoved it between your legs and adjusted it so that the woven seams pressed between your folds. You rested your weight on it and rolled your hips experimentally to find a rhythm and angle that felt best. Soon, you were panting and gasping, and Dalton could barely hear you over the stupid fan.

As you rode the pillow, Dalton lost his restraint. He either had to take care of himself now and fully condemn himself as an actual peeping tom and a pervert, or take care of you and risk you freaking out and losing you before he could actually have you. He’d rather hate himself for a little while than you hate him forever. He reached into his shorts, cupping his erection and squeezing lightly. He bit his lips and tried to keep quiet. He didn’t think he would last long, and he didn’t really care to either. He’d worry about that once he was actually inside you.

Dalton started off with slow and trading strokes before working up to the rhythm you set for yourself. You were grinding down on the pillow with slow and long thrusts, lowering your body slightly so that the seam of the pillow rubbed your clit. Dalton imagined his face replacing the pillow and started speeding up the movements of his hand, spitting on himself to help his hand move more fluidly along his shaft. Coincidentally, you started to quicken as well, humping the pillow desperately instead of steadily rolling your hips.

“Dalton! Oh…fuck! Daltonnn…” you cried out softly into the seemingly empty room. As the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, you lost strength in your arms and fell to the mattress, your hips still moving rhythmically as you came. Your limbs felt electrocuted and twitchy, and you could do nothing but gasp and whimper as you came down from your high. Rolling over, you reached down and caressed your soaked folds, moaning softly as your fingers became coated in the stringy remnants of your wetness.

Dalton nearly fell to his knees in his desire to suck your fingers into his mouth and devour your cunt. Luckily, he managed to stay upright and went rigid as he came in his hands, making sure the pearly white spurts of semen didn’t make a mess anywhere in your room, if they could. He wasn’t actually entirely sure how it all worked when he was in this state, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

He waited until you fell asleep to grab your panties and leave your dorm, falling back into his own body and finding it a mess. His shorts were soaked at the crotch with his cum because his actual hands couldn’t stop his real orgasm from staining his clothes. He tore off his shorts and decided to sleep naked, hiding your panties in his pillow case.

*~*~*

You woke up refreshed and well-rested the next morning, still not used to the stillness and quiet in the absence of your roommate, Carla. Usually, she was up by now blaring metal music while she got ready for the day and you would make the two of you breakfast. You went to do just that when you heard a knock at your door and remembered that Dalton was supposed to come over with breakfast.

You told him to wait through a text message and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, yanking them on as you made your way to let him in. Much to your surprise, the door was unlocked, though you don’t remember leaving it that way. In all fairness, you also don’t remember the last time you had locked it, so it was fair game.

Dalton greeted you with a large smile, showing off his extended canines, and a bag from your favorite pastry shop. It was hard not to blush after what you did when you saw the pictures he sent you, but the food was also distracting. You excitedly took the bag from him and started rifling through it as he guided the both of you to your room. Had he ever been inside your dorm before? How did he know which room was yours?

Before you could ask him, he plopped himself onto your bed and settled onto his stomach. He then used a pillow to prop up his chin. The same pillow you had used last night.

There was something about the way he was smiling at you. The way he was watching you.

“So, did you sleep well last night?”

********

Lemme know if you want a part two or maybe a “What if Dalton hadn’t had any homework?” situation.

This was super fun and sorry if it’s too long

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Better Later Than Never: Dalton Lambert x Reader

Summary: Chris takes you and her old roommate Dalton to a frat party and insists the three of you mess with their things. When you and Dalton nearly get caught, a misunderstanding puts Dalton into some hot water with his crush; you

Warnings: Dalton being an idiotic virgin. Chris is such a fucking instigator, I love her. Nick makes a dick-ish appearance. Fem!Reader is having a hard time being patient. As a result, we get ooc!Dalton who is suffering from acute horniness. Smut ensues. Sweet Dalton. Switch!Dalton, Switch!Reader. loss of virginity. first kisses. little bit of angst. fluffyyyyy. raw sex, wrap before you tap, folks. doggy-style. Riding. Oral (female and male receiving).

The party was loud to all of your senses. The booming bass of whatever shit song was playing made your skin feel like it was vibrating. The smells of sweat, weed, sex and the toxic fumes of axe body spray overwhelmed you and gave you a head ache. But Dalton was there, so you might as well have been dreaming.

Dalton Lambert was an art student and the former roommate of your current roommate, Chris. You and Chris didn’t have much in common but she was easy to get along with and was a great roommate. You were a history major who minored in the arts, and Chris…liked music.

She got in a situation with Dalton that involved his possessed body throwing her into a wall, and that’s how you found out that ghosts and demons and astral projection were all real things. And you and Dalton got along easily, enough for you to develop feelings for him over the months as Chris helped you bond through things she liked her friends to do with her.

Like parties, Chris liked parties. But not in the typical drinking-and-dancing-and-fucking way. Chris liked to go to parties to make fun of party people and rifle through their things. And she liked to drag you and Dalton along with her, at least until she lost track of you while doing something else.

Right now, for instance, was the perfect example. You and Dalton were awkwardly standing at the edge of the dance floor in the living room of a frat house while Chris nosied her way through the brothers’ bedrooms. Dalton looked beautiful under the colorful strobe lights, the flashing rainbows contrasting with intense shadows across his handsome features. You couldn’t stop glancing at him.

“I hate this. Hate it. Let’s leave,” Dalton grumbled deeply in your ear, his soft hair tickling your cheek as he shook his head in disdain.

You shivered lightly and disguised it as a laugh. “Happy to, as soon as we find Chris. We can’t leave her here by herself.”

“Fine, let’s look for her. And go.” Grabbing your hand, Dalton stomped his way upstairs with a look so venomous that people automatically parted to let the two of you pass.

You flushed, staring at your joined hands blankly, and nearly tripped trying to keep up with your friend. At the top of the landing, Dalton unfortunately let go of your hand and turned to face you.

“Let’s split up and look for her. And hope she hasn’t gotten herself in trouble,” Dalton ordered. You nodded and turned around, then the lights went out.

“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! GLOW IN THE DARKKKKKK. HOPE YOU’RE WEARING LIGHT COLORS,” came an echoing shout from downstairs. It sounded like Nick, much to your chagrin.

A body crashed into yours and long, thin fingers clutched at your waist and around your shoulder. The hand on your shoulder grazed your breast and you were about to elbow whatever skeeze was trying to coo a feel when you heard Dalton in your ear again.

“Y-Y/n,” Dalton whimpered. It wasn’t a question, but more of a sigh of relief. You wrapped your own fingers around his and squeezed them lightly to reassure him.

“Let’s look for Chris together and dip,” you offer, knowing he wouldn’t refuse. Dalton would go for any option that got him out of the dark the quickest. Even after his traumatic encounter in the Further, it seemed like he was even more afraid of the dark. Not that you blamed him.

You nodded and held onto his hand as you walked into the first bedroom that connected to another bedroom. Closing the door behind you so as to not draw unwanted attention, you and Dalton looked around in the mostly dark room for your eccentric mutual friend.

“Chris?! Chris! Let’s go,” Dalton hissed harshly into the room. When his demand was met with silence, you moved to the connecting room to look there.

“Chris? Listen, you’ve had your fun, but me and Dalton wanna leave. Can we just go?” Once again met with silence, you sighed in frustration and grabbed Dalton’s hand again to guide him back into the hallway.

Then the door started opening from the outside and you instinctively slammed it closed again. Dalton’s gaze shot to you in shock, pulling you closer to him protectively.

“Hey! What the hell? Who the fuck is in my room?!” Great…Nick the Dick.

“Fuck, again?” Dalton had a few run-ins with Nick, one of them resulting in what Chris called “A God Awful First Kiss, Oh My God, Dalton, I’m Still Sorry About That!” It was easy not to feel jealous about it, but you wished you could have the chance to kiss Dalton.

“This is why we don’t go to parties,” you muttered in annoyance.

“What do we do?” Nick was banging on the door and hollering in jest to his friends, yelling about catching someone in the act. Probably trying to humiliate the two of you into coming out.

“We got two options, fighting or fucking. Not real, obviously, but y’know…You choose.” You hoped he’d choose to kiss you, so you would know he’d actually want to before he did. It’s a subtle way to find out how he feels, or at least if he is attracted to you.

From what you could see in the dark, he stared at you blankly for a moment, each second had you panicking at the possibility of being caught. More voices of raucous frat boys got closer to the door.

“Dalton!”

“Uh, fight?! How would that even work?” His hands darted out towards you in the dark and pulled you in even closer in panic.

You tried to hide the crestfallen expression on your face with a witty smirk and hoped the dark hid your sudden wave of insecurity.

“Follow my lead.” You cleared your throat and approached the door. “OH, SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING PRICK! YOU ARE SUCH A SELFISH AND CONCEITED ASSHOLE! EVERYTHING HAS TO BE ABOUT YOU! NO! DON’T TELL TO BE QUIET, TYLER! I’M SO SICK OF YOU! IF YOU WON’T MEET MY NEEDS, I’LL FIND SOMEONE WHO WILL!”

You threw open the door and stormed out with a look of rage adorning your features. Dalton ran after you silently, quickly enough that the still dark and crowded hallway helped conceal your identities.

Once the two of you were safe from Nick and his cronies, you heard Dalton giggling behind you. “Holy shit, that was awesome! I could really believe that you were mad at me.”

Shame flooded you as you admitted to yourself that you had let a bit of your actual bitterness at his apparent rejection bitterness cloud your performance. You shrugged noncommittally as you dragged him downstairs.

All you want right now is to leave the stupid party and drown your sorrows with a pity party, some ice cream, and dancing to early 2000’s party music while alone in your room. And your bad mood worsens when you spot Chris, flirting with a sorority girl in the kitchen on the first floor.

You huff irritably and roll your eyes, pushing your way through the crowd carelessly. It takes you a minute to register that Dalton is still following you.

“Hey, let’s go back to your dorm. It’s not like you have anyone else to go back to,” Dalton jokes lightly as he keeps up with you easily, softly apologizing to all of the people you’re practically shoving aside.

“Sure, fine,” you shout back at him over the music, not bothering to look back at him as you start to grab your belongings that you’d hung up on the coat rack when you’d arrived.

Dalton grabs your upper arm as you shrug on your jacket. You whip around to look at him and try your school your features into something less angry. As upset as you are, it’s not his fault that he doesn’t share your feelings, it’s not like you’d even admitted anything to him anyways. He didn’t know how much his rejection had actually hurt you.

But he sensed something was up with you, you knew it. Dalton was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, you always knew exactly what his intentions were by just the look on his face.

“What’s up with you? Why are you acting so weird?” His sad and confused puppy-dog eyes were enough to end wars in your opinion, but right now, his words lit a fire in your chest.

Then you got a text from Chris telling you that she was going to go home with some sorority girl, and to make a move on Dalton. Fuck, this night was going terrible. You sorta kinda maybe blew up at him, just a little. The music made it hard to carry the message without a little bit of yelling.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m standing in the middle of a party that I didn’t even want to go to. Surrounded by obnoxiously drunk people with music that’s so bad and so loud that it’s giving me a migraine. After nearly having to get caught in Nick the Dick’s room because Chris can’t keep her hands to herself. Literally. Because we went through that entire thing upstairs only for her to be down here the whole time flirting with some random chick. So I apologize for forgetting my manners for all of five fucking seconds and not being more polite when addressing you, Dalton.” Your chest was heaving by the end of your winded rant and you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or even more enraged that no one but Dalton seemed dazed by it.

He was staring at you again, puppy face in full effect. His lips parted then shut as he made to speak before thinking better of it. His eyes flickered all over your for a few seconds and you had to convince yourself that you were delusional, thinking that they had temporarily settled on your lips and boobs.

“I didn’t want to come either, why are you taking it out on me?” Turns out he wasn’t thinking better of it. Stupid puppy dog eyes tricked you. “I just wanted to know what was bothering you, like a good friend, and it doesn’t even seem like you want to be around me.”

You didn’t, not now, when your heart and ego had taken a huge hit from him, unbeknownst to him of course.

“Exactly, you didn’t want to come, I don’t know why you’re stopping us from leaving,” you countered, ignoring his last comments.

He exhaled sharply and shook his head, moving around you and opening the front door. You walked out with him and noticed that the both of you were headed in the same direction. Even if you both lived in the same dorm house, you’d assumed he wanted to go somewhere else on his own.

“Where are we going?”

“To your dorm? Duh. I figure you’ll be in a better mood once we get away from all of this crap,” he explains tiredly, chalking up your tantrum to an ill-timed venting session. You were thankful for it, but you weren’t about to say anything. It didn’t change that his assumption was wrong and you were secretly upset with him.

It would be hypocritical, seeing as you weren’t opposed to him spending the night in your dorm.

You hummed your assent and the walk continued on silently. Or at least, until Dalton slowed down to walk side by side with you, trying to “covertly” get your attention by pointedly staring at you.

“So…what’s new with you? Dating someone?” It was a weird question to ask and you had to trample down that small bit of hope that brightened within you. He’d made his side of things clear.

“If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be spending my Saturday night at a frat party of all places with you. I’d be with him and probably getting laid.” You cringed internally at the mention of sex and regretted adding that bit. It had been a really long time since you’d been satisfied by another person. Or yourself.

His face fell slightly and you knew he probably misinterpreted what you’d said. It did sound like an implication that you didn’t want to hang out with him. You tried to lighten the mood by amending your answer.

“If I had been at a party, snooping with my boyfriend, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kiss him to avoid being caught,” you joke with a salacious wink.

Dalton made another face, but it wasn’t as easy to tell what was going through his mind as he thought over what you said. But you could safely register that you hadn’t lightened the mood at all.

“Yeah, yeah. That makes sense. Why wouldn’t you kiss your boyfriend in that situation?” Dalton stared ahead of you, at the path leading to your dorms as you both approached the building. He sounded more like he was talking to himself, though, and you didn’t know what to do to get rid of this heavy feeling that sat between you two.

Thoughts flooded you ranging from guilt to irritation to loneliness to frustration to lust…

“It just felt like you didn’t want to be around me back there. And I’ve never gotten that vibe from you before, so I just kinda assumed that maybe you had someone else you’d rather be hanging with.”

He opened the door for you and fixed you with a look so deep that it made you breathless trying to figure out what he was trying to say. It wasn’t like he felt the same way you did. Did he want you to get a boyfriend?

“C’mon Dalton, Id never prefer anyone’s company over you and Chris. Even if they wanted to do something I actually enjoyed over going to a frat party,” you assured him with a laugh. “Maybe I should get a boyfriend, though. It’s kinda sad I spend all of my free time with you and Chris.”

“Why?”

It was so simple. Just a singled word. But it floored you and you nearly fell off the stairs you were climbing. Luckily you made it to the second floor landing, Dalton’s floor. You had one more flight to go up before reaching your room. You paused as the possibilities of what you could say and what he was implying swirled about your mind before you could even try to control them.

“Because I want someone who doesn’t want me. And the best way to get over someone is to under someone else,” you replied honestly, not seeing a reason to beat around the bush.

“Why bother? Just find someone else that you already like and try going out with them. I mean, I’m right here,” he suggests so casually that you actually considered violence against him.

The muscles in your jaw ache from clenching as your words fall like bricks from between your teeth. “Maybe I considered that before. Maybe I’d hoped for it, every time I looked at you. But it sucks, because it’s kinda hard to date someone who won’t even kiss you.”

He opens his mouth to argue but you jab a harsh finger into his chest to stop him in his tracks. “No, I’m not done. You’ve had every opportunity. Not to respond to my lack of hints, I didn’t expect that much from you. But if you were interested, you would’ve made it known long before now. And even if you hadn’t, you had a chance delivered in your lap at that party. You could’ve kissed me, but no, you chose to have me make up an argument on the spot just to avoid it. So whoops! My fucking bad for not considering you as the perfect candidate.”

He doesn’t look confused anymore. Or sad. He doesn’t even look embarrassed or defensive, like most guys in his position would’ve reacted. He looks enraged and offended.

“Do you seriously think that low of me? That I’d seriously want to kiss you for the first time to avoid Nick. That I’d waste that opportunity like that! For Nick?!” He wasn’t being loud, but his words still echoed in your ears as he got all up in your face. He glowered down at you, his blue eyes enflamed.

“You want the truth? If I had chosen to kiss you, I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” he admitted, still angry, but a lot quieter. Vulnerable.

You softened, just slightly. It was hard for you, too, to be open with him about this. I mean, look what happened as a result of you trying to be. Still, you could feel the tension and frustration filling the air, and just because it was hard for him to say the words, doesn’t mean that he hadn’t said them. He wanted to make a big deal about resisting the temptation, you were going to make him regret that.

“Dalton,” you began, stepping so close to him that breathing a certain way would’ve pressed your chest into his. “If you had let me kiss you, you wouldn’t even have clothes on right now, Nick’s room be damned.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, his pupils dilating drastically. “My room’s closer. Let’s go watch a movie.”

For some reason, that has absolutely nothing to do with your aversion to vulnerability, this ticked you off. Your fury was reignited. Did he seriously think admitting to wanting to kiss you once would abate the months you spent pining after him? He literally rejected you, then pulled some sentimental crap to try to make up for it. Only to suggest Netflix and Chill. All men were the same.

You ignored the small voice in your head telling you that your precious virgin Dalton had never had sex, or been remotely intimate with a woman before. You ignored the fact that from how well you knew Dalton, he had no idea what sexual tension was and was simply trying to defuse the situation until he could get himself under control. So, you lashed out, because the sexual tension and anger felt safer. You didn’t want to go back to normal. You wanted him to do something. Anything.

“Fuck you. I’m not some skank who’ll screw you just because you invite me in for a movie. If I wanted a one-night stand, I could do better than you,” you hiss at him angrily before backing away from him. “As a matter of fact, I think that party is still kicking. I’ll go find someone there. I know Nick is probably desperate enough to show me a good time.”

You turned away and managed to make down to steps before Dalton displayed a rather impressive amount of strength and yanked back up into him, your back colliding with his chest.

Dalton reaches up to pull your hair across the back of your neck before leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “If you want a one-night stand, that’s fine. But don’t think for a second that that’s why I’m inviting you in. If you go into my room, you aren’t coming out when the night is over.”

Fuck that was hot. The universe must have speeded up the plot of this chapter for you, because how the hell did he do a complete one-eighty in the blink of an eye like that? You could feel the heat of his body soaking into yours and resisted the urge to lean into it. You refused to make this easy for him.

“What exactly are you offering that I can’t get from someone else? Someone that wants me more and is willing to show it. I don’t want it to be a fight every time between us because you can’t give me what I want until I’m begging.”

He pulls you away from the steps and presses your front against the wall. You are seriously debating whether or not you think he’s drunk right now. Normally, Dalton is never this upfront or confident. You liked it a lot and hoped it wasn’t some show.

“I like you begging, it turns me on,” he whispers while his face is tucked between your shoulder and neck. You feel yourself heating up for an entirely different reason as you feel his hips pressed into your ass. “But I promise to fulfill all your needs, every time.”

You laughed mockingly. “Oh? You can try, but I doubt you could really satisfy me without my help,” you taunted. Virgin men were usually cocky, having false ideations of skill and stamina. They usually disappointed, and you refused to indulge those ideations. But you weren’t looking for a quick fuck with Dalton, and you were happy to train him.

“Sex is a two way road, of course I’ll need your help,” Dalton his lips brushing your skin reverently, his tongue licking the flushed flesh in short and heated bursts. You moan, turned on even more by both his actions and his admittance. You were genuinely impressed, but it was getting gradually more and more difficult to focus.

You grab his hands and move them to your hips, pushing off the wall and further into Dalton. He whimpered, the sound reverberating in your ear and you slowly guided you both down the hallway backwards.

Dalton got the message and aimed himself towards his own dorm door. Miraculously, you two made it without having to separate and without falling over or tripping. The whole way hand Dalton exploring your torso without ever going too far up or down. His fingers played with the edge of your shirt and his face remained burrowed in your shoulder.

You hummed in discontent as he removed a hand to open the door as the other gripped your waist for balance. You lifted a hand to grip the hair at the crown of his head and keep his mouth tethered to you.

Finally in the privacy of his room, you turned and walked him to his bed, straddling his lap as soon as his knees buckled. You lean in for a kiss just as he’s adjusting his position under your weight and his chin hits your teeth painfully.

“Ah! Fuck,” You hiss with a wince. You lean away and you run your tongue over your top teeth to check for blood.

“Shit, sorry!” Dalton’s hands come up to cradle your face and check for a busted lip or potential bruising.

“It’s fine…” An awkward air ruins the mood a bit and you chuckle nervously as the unpleasant tension set in.

“I acted like such an idiot,” Dalton groans, burying his face in your neck again, only this time in embarrassment. “Acting all big shit. Like I actually knew what I was doing.”

“So you’re happy that you slammed your hard head into my face?” You tease, running your fingers through his hair.

“God, no! And it was totally your fault, you were all over me,” he denies with a laugh, pulling you closer and hugging your body to his.

You scoff and use your hand in his hair to yank his head away from your throat. He groans but complies easily enough and meets your gaze head on and without hesitation.

“I have feelings for you. More than just having a crush or being attracted to you. I wanna be with you, in all ways,” he whispers, the dark stillness of his dorm carrying the words and holding them between your bodies.

Dalton’s big blue eyes seem so clear to you in the low light; earnest and enamored. His fingers twitch against your back and you wonder if he’s trying to pull you closer or push you away to avoid your rejection.

You quickly quell his insecurities before they have time to fester and pull him in for a desperate kiss. Realizing it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, you slow down, enjoying the feeling of his inexperienced lips pressing against yours.

“I adore you.” You say simply, whispering just as he did. Your lips brush with the three words and he leans in a little closer with each one.

Dalton initiates the next kiss, eager and happy, his lips pulled up in a smile against you. His hands settles in the locks of hair behind your ears to drag you further into the kiss. Your own hands move to his shirt, wrinkling the soft fabric and gasping into Dalton’s mouth.

He grabs your hands and removes them from his shirt, using the freedom to remove the garment altogether. His hands don’t stop there, though, and you quickly find yourself topless and breathing hard from your perch in his lap.

You push him down on his back into the mattress and cover his body with your own, kissing and licking at the exposed skin. As you go lower, you come to find that Dalton is quite loud when aroused.

“Please! Please, please, please…” His begging trails off in favor of gasping moans as you begin undoing his pants.

“How far have you gone, Dal?” The only sounds in the room are the sounds of his heavy breathing and the rustling of clothes as you pull his pants down.

His boxers hide an impressive tent and you quickly relieve him of that particular burden as well. Dalton’s hands clawed at the covers of his bed, his eyes silted and watching you.

“N-no, nothing. Chris kissed me at a party once to distract Nick,” he breathed in a rush, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as his dick slapped against his stomach.

God, it was pretty. Seeing as it didn’t get a lot of action, Dalton didn’t do the best job with maintenance, but it didn’t look gross or dirty, just unkempt. Circumcised with thick veins running along the sides, his cock made your mouth water.

You can see why he didn’t want to kiss you at that party, the similarities making you huff a chuckle to yourself. You blew a cold breath onto the head of his cock and watched his abs tense up.

“Please, baby, please. Anything!” He rose up on his elbows and fixed you with a needy stare. You flushed at the attention and focus on his erection, using his arousal for you as a means to ground yourself.

You use the influx of saliva in your mouth to lubricate his length, licking a long stripe from the base. Dalton released a long sigh of relief that ended with a whine.

You wrap your lips around the head and hallow your cheeks. Dalton cries out and his hands fly from his sheets to your head. You’re not sure if he’s trying to pry you off of him or keep you where you are.

His hips raise slightly off the bed, pushing his cock further into your mouth. You decide he’s trying to keep you there. Now that you’re paying more attention to him rather than his genitals, you can hear that he’s muttering to himself. At least, it’s too quiet for you to assume he’s trying to actually talk to you.

“So wet…so good…fuck yes…please…” Most of what he was saying was unintelligible and he kept cutting himself off with moans.

Smirking around his cock, you take all of him down your throat at once. Dalton’s eyes fly open and he shoots up, accidentally pushing you even further onto him, your nose flush with his pelvis.

Dalton’s making a weird face, a cross between pain and pleasure, and he pushes you off of him. Bracing himself against your shoulders, he takes slow and deep breaths for several moments.

“Why’d you stop me?” Your voice is slightly hoarse from the unexpected deep-throating, but you’re grinning up at him like he’s the second coming of Christ.

“I didn’t want to be done yet,” he murmurs once he’s calmed himself down.

You laughed and stood from your position to kiss him soundly. He pulled you back on top of him before rolling you onto your back, kissing your shoulders and chest much in the same way you did, and traveling lower.

“Dalton, you don’t have to. We can do more next time. I need you now!” What you said was partially true, but another part was that you didn’t want to waste time taking him through it. At least not right now.

“Just wan’ a taste. Wanna taste. Real quick. Wanna taste you, baby,” He tells you between biting kisses. Your skirt is pulled off, his nails leaving red trails down your hips and thighs.

His thumbs and forefingers are spreading your folds and you choke on air as Dalton licks a bold stripe down your labia. You jolt in place and your hips rut off the bed as he does it again. And once more. And one more time. It’s so simple, no technique or maneuvering, just licks. Enough to stimulate, but not enough to get you anywhere near completion. It’s like he’s torturing you.

“Fuck! When we’re done, I’m gonna pin you down and have at you for hours. Gonna fill myself with you. Gonna make you cum all over my face.” He stops licking to leave sucking kisses. First on your folds and somewhere he may have thought was your clit, then to your thighs and up your stomach.

“And I’ll tell you exactly how to do it right. But I really want something bigger than your tongue in me right now,” you urge, wrapping a leg around his hip.

He nods and grabs a pillow under your hips, impressing you further. You make an approving face at him, kissing him deeply. He moans into the kiss as he begins entering you.

You break the kiss and toss your head back in a whine, your back arching off the bed and pushing your chest into his. Dalton latches onto your nipple, the extra stimulation causing your hips to thrust up against his and your pussy sucking him in the rest of the way.

Dalton’s initial pace was shaky and unsure. He was struggling between what felt best to him and what he thought might feel good to you. His hands fluttered along your flesh, going from light caresses to harsh groping whenever a thrust felt particularly good to him.

His eyes kept flashing to yours in questioning, then looking away in embarrassment. Warmth filled you at the effort he was putting into making his first time good for you. You just wanted him to cum inside you, you just wanted him to enjoy it fully.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed lightly. Dalton immediately pulled out of you and sat back on his knees.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Does it not feel good?” He starts rambling, his insecurity shining through. He’s grabbing a blanket and trying to wrap you in it when you stop him by grabbing hands.

“Are you enjoying this, Dalton?” You ask, pushing your own body up and pressing yourself into him. He wraps his arms around you and breathes a sigh of relief seeing as you weren’t rejecting him.

“God yes, just want to make you feel good,” he replies in your ear. His hands are going up and down your back and you can feel him, hot and hard, against the cushioning of your stomach.

“This isn’t just a one-time fling, Dalton. But it is your first time, I wan this to be about you,” you assure him, cradling his handsome face in your hands. His long hair is missed sound his head, the soft and minimal lighting making it shine like a halo.

“How can I feel good if you don’t?” He questions with a look so innocent that you could’ve been fooled into thinking he wasn’t talking about sex.

“I am feeling good, Dalton. But this time is all about you,” you push, widening your eyes at him comically for dramatic effect.

“I wanna make you cum. I want you moaning, loudly. I want you all over me for the rest of my life,” he reiterates, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder.

You shiver and moan at his words, pulling away from him and turning around, bending over on your hands and knees.

“You wanna make us both feel good? Fuck me like this,” you demand, peering at him from over your shoulder.

Dalton is slack-jawed and staring at you in awe. In less than a second later, he’s pouncing on top of you and layering his body over you like a second skin. The sounds leaving his mouth are loud and plentiful as he entered you for the second time.

You can also hear the slapping of his hips and balls against your ass and the slickness of your cunt as he pounded into you. You couldn’t tell the difference between your moans and his as he fucked into you deeper. You thrusted back against him, crying out into his ear and encouraging him.

“Fuck, Dalton! Yes! Just like that! Doing so good for me! Yes! Fuck! Yes!”

His fingers curled around your hips as he forced you to accommodate the grinding of his hips into yours. His movements were leagues more confident, and desperate. He was chasing his and yours releases, fucking into you wildly.

“You feel…amazing! Love this tight pussy! Warm and wet and…sooo fucking good for me! Gonna fuck you every day, fill you up. Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine now, they’re gonna know how much you want me!” He growled, thrusting into you harder.

You knew he was close, his movements becoming jerky and out of pace. You were getting close, too, much to your surprise. You could feel that coil stretching within you. And you knew just the thing to snap it.

“I want you, Dalton! Want you so bad! Need you! Cum inside me, right now! Please! No one makes me wet like you, Dalton. Ooh, I’m about to cum,” you yell, reaching down to rub your clit in time with every pass of his cock within you.

It takes four harsh pumps of his hips for him to cum and the rubber band snaps as his warmth fills you to the brim. You see white as your orgasm washes over you and sends you reeling over that sweet edge in pleasure.

Dalton rolls off of you and pulls you over him, reaching up to turn on his fan. The coolness feels nice against your sweaty skin and you can feel his cum dripping down your thigh. It feel gross but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

Luckily, Dalton jolted out of bed unexpectedly and jumbled his way to a stack of wash clothes. Wetting one with a water bottle, he cleans you up and hands you the bottle to drink from.

You giggle at his treatment and snuggle into his side, excited to wake up as Dalton Lambert’s girlfriend.

******

Oh my fucking god, I know the ending sucked, I promise. I ran away from a toxic household a couple of weeks ago but I’ve had this in my drafts for nearly a month and needed to finish it. Not only am I answering a poll, but I’m celebrating 100 followers!

Im so excited and grateful with this achievement and I hope to get into the flow of writing more often now that I’m adjusting to my new living situation. Please, feel free to send requests and interact with my posts

Like, share and reblog please, love y’all and I hope y’all enjoy!

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pls pls pls make a part two, this was amazing 😍

FATE UP AGAINST YOUR WILL

Thrown into Michael’s room without supervision, he uses you for his desires—and uses more of you to his benefit.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — rz! michael myers x gender-neutral! reader GENRE(S) — full fic, thriller, smut, sanitarium! au WORD COUNT — 3.3k WARNINGS — dark! & predator! michael (obviously), intense situations, choking, partial language, some objectifying tones SMUT WARNINGS — labeling this as dub-con (although consent is given) bc it can be taken either way, dom/sub tones, oral (michael receiving) turned skullfuck, force is used, gagging, cum-play & swallowing, sweaty michael, drooling, masturbation (reader), michael’s bde is real! RELEASE DATE — JAN 17TH 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — not another one of my fucking dreams making me want to write it out as a smut…i did it anyways lmao. this is literally just pure filth with a base-line plot, enjoy <3 i might make this into a series of segments of rz! michael x reader going insane for each other if this is received well, so please share your thoughts about that to me!!! this is roughly edited btw

NAVIGATION | SLASHERS MLIST & RECS

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Last song: I still believe from the Lost Boys soundtrack. Recently watched the movie and have grown obsessed.

Currently watching: mainly movies like The Lost Boys and The Proposal.

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