#halloween haunt idea

[nordsea-horizons]

the house at the end of the road has been neglected for years.. no one really knows what happened…

[hallowickit]

[pastafossa]

“What Was That?” (Haunted House Fic, Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO POST THIS WHOOPS. I had someone send me an ask like a month ago about Matt and Jane dealing with ghosts and the idea was funny so I typed up a little something, meant to drop it on halloween (hrrgh), so I’m a few hours late in my time zone, but not in others! So let’s do this! This Reader is from my long-fic TRT though all you need to know is Reader is psychic and this is set far enough ahead in their timeline that they’re married.

Rating: SFW

Ship: Matt Murdock x f!Reader 

Wordcount: 2,488 

Warnings: Swearing, references to spiders, ghostly spookiness, though mostly funny. Wanted to see if I could mix a little scary with the haunted house humor.

Matt seen here, questioning what the hell you’ve gotten him into this time. 

“—goddamn dumbass, sneaking in here,” you grumbled where you were on your hands and knees, shining your flashlight under the moldering, half-broken bed. “He’s lucky his mom paid me to find his phone even without the thread. Him and his friends probably broke in here to drink.” 

“Uh huh,” Matt said slowly. He barely noticed the soft sound of your footsteps behind him, too focused on the corner of the room. “...Right. Drinking.”

“And look, I’m not saying I don’t get the desire to do stupid shit. But at least hold onto your phone.” You rocked back on your knees with a groan, dusting your hands off. “Well, it’s not in here. Next room.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there… a mannequin in the corner of the room?”

You swung your flashlight around towards the corner he was facing, your brow furrowed as you carefully rose. “No. Why?”

“You don’t see anything?”

“No. Room’s mostly empty other than a bed.”

He’d have agreed with that statement a few minutes ago. While some of the rooms were more furnished than others—all of the furniture being long past its prime, broken and crumbling, faded and coated in dust—most were like this one. As far as he could sense, all that remained in the room was the bed, its covers moth-eaten and ragged, a small end table, cracked down the side and on its last legs… and the ridiculously conspicuous, elongated human shadow standing in the corner, where it had remained for the past five minutes.

He’d been hoping it was a mannequin. A really, really cold mannequin.

The chilled human outline slowly rotated its head clockwise in a half-circle. The movement seemed almost broken, its head moving in staggered intervals, each shift paired with a distant click like the crack of a bone. Only once its mouth reached the twelve o’clock position did it stop.

“I think we should look somewhere else,” he said quickly. “Preferably right now.”

“It’s a spider, isn’t it?” You grimaced, taking a few steps back towards him. “I can handle a lot of them, but not when they get big and hairy.”

He did his best to throw you a casual smile. It would be for the best if you didn’t know what he was sensing. He wasn’t even sure how he’d explain it, in truth. ‘There’s a figure and it’s cold and its face is upside down’ could only result in disbelief. “I just don’t like it here. That’s all. Old houses smell.”

“Fair enough.”

The figure gradually lifted one leg, the motion just as stuttered as the movement of its head had been. Its leg rose further and further until its knee had almost reached its neck, before it took one exaggerated, creeping step towards you both, as if sneaking.

Nope.

Matt grabbed your arm, and you let out a startled grunt as he yanked you back with him, slamming the ancient door shut behind you both.

“What the fuck, Matt?! You could just ask me to leave.” 

 “Spider,” he said. “It was a really… really big spider.”

Something with long fingernails scratched quietly at the bottom of the door from the other side. Then there was a a faint ‘meow’—not the sound, but the actual word, delivered in the low voice of a large man, the words muffled as if he’d pressed his mouth to the small crack between the top of the door and the frame, all while the nails continued to scratch at the bottom. Which was… fairly unsettling, in about a million different ways, 99% of which Matt didn't feel like considering because even he had sense sometimes. Fortunately, the sounds were also too soft for you to hear.

You raised your brows and glanced at the door, which was still being scratched at.

 “It was a spider with hair,” he added quickly. “It hissed. I wouldn’t go back in there.”

“If it was hissing, it was probably a wolf spider. God, those bites hurt.” You shuddered, before turning around. “Alright, maybe I’m glad you yanked me out of there. Let’s keep looking then. Sooner we find the kid’s phone, the sooner we can get out.”

“Sounds good to me.”

'Meow.'

-x-

It was on the ceiling this time.

“I hate places like this,” you mumbled, digging around in the couch cushions of an old sofa that groaned ominously every time you pushed too hard. Matt wasn’t sure whether the noise was actually the furniture or if the couch was instead possessed, but either way, he didn’t tell you about the bloodstain beneath it, or the twisted shape in the basement that sounded like it was licking at the underside of the floor right beneath your feet. “I know I complain about sewer grates, and those are gross, too, but old houses like this? Blergh.”

Matt tilted his head at the shape up on the crumbling ceiling, and it tilted its head back, mirroring him.

“Did you find it?” he asked you, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

“Not unless you count some questionably stained quarters, no, but I think maybe—”

The shadow skittered suddenly across the ceiling until it was above you, before slowly extending its head down. It shouldn’t have been able to get all that far, but instead of lurching to a stop, its neck began to elongate like warm taffy, its mouth gaping open like a serpent preparing to swallow its prey.

He only just grabbed your shirt and hauled you back with a grunt as the head swung down where you’d just been standing, thick splatters of ethereal drool dropping to the floorboards with quiet pat-pat noises like rain. 

“Matt, Jesus—“ 

 “Another spider,” he said breathlessly, because he loved you and watching a ghost try to swallow you like it was a python and you were an antelope was, to put it mildly, somewhat distressing and adrenaline-inducing. And also disgusting, considering that it had been drooling. “It… fell. Where you were. It was also hissing.”

The eyes on the shadow’s head grew larger, bulging out of its head like overripe grapes, its mouth lolling open until the chin and what he presumed to be a tongue hit the floor with a barely-there splat.

Was it… scowling at him?

“Look, I get that you’re protecting me from spiders, and I’m grateful.” You shot him a look. “But you could just… tell me.”

“The spider had babies on its back. Thousands of them.”

“Right, yup, you’re right, we can hit another room.” This time it was you who dragged him with you, though he was quickly distracted by the stairs in the attic. It sounded like someone was running back and forth, sprinting up and down the steps, though there was no one there that he could sense. 

“We should avoid the attic,” he said after a moment. “There’s more wolf spiders on the stairs. They all... they all have babies. I think it might be breeding season.”

“Do I want to know how many spiders there are in this house?”

“Probably not.”

-x-

 “It has to be in here somewhere,” you grumbled, picking your way through the kitchen. It didn’t help that dozens of pots and pans had all been arranged in a series of delicately balanced towers, each monument stationed at what seemed like random points around the room. Even the rickety wooden chairs had been gathered and shaped into a pyramid along one side of the room, behind which was a wall oozing a foul smelling substance he didn’t really want to direct his senses towards. “Only room besides the attic we haven’t checked. Can you sense anything? I’m dying here, D. Lend me a hand, as much as I appreciate you listening for spiders.”

The figure that stepped through the far doorway was different than all the others still.

The basic shape of it was human, but that was where the resemblance ended. Its proportions were… wrong, wrong, the hair on the back of Matt’s neck standing on end. It was so tall the top of its broad, wide-brimmed hat scraped against the ceiling, so tall it seemed to have to fold in on itself just to enter the room. Its bony arms hung halfway to its knees, spindly fingers with too many joints curling beneath hands the size of dinner plates. With each step, its legs silently snapped and folded, bent like the limbs of a massive spider, before they shot out again to take another step.

Only once it was fully in the room, a mere ten feet away, did it stop… and watch.

“Matt? You ok?”

‘MaTT? YOu ok? Ok YOU? MaTT?’ It was as if it were trying to mimic you, its voice pitched in an attempt at yours. And yet the shaped syllables were all wrong, the emphasis in the wrong place, discordant as it looped and repeated, all while rotating its head one way and then the other. “You-you-yOU OK? MaTT? SomeWHERE? HeRE someWHERE? Has to bE. Room EMPty, emPTY? roOOm! No-no-nO, M-m-MaTT.’

He let out a low growl, slowly grabbing the back of your shirt and tugging you back with him as the figure snapped its leg up and then stepped closer, swallowing up far too large a gap. “We’re leaving. Now.”

You glanced at him, your eyes darting over the shape of his mouth, reading what little of him you could see with his mask on. He could almost hear the gears in your mind turning, spinning as you glanced around… and then you sighed. “It’s not a spider, is it?”

‘Is iT? Is IT? IS it? SweetHEART MaTT—’

“...No,” he said grimly, his hand still fisted in your shirt.

There was a faint whisper along his skin, one that signaled you’d opened your third eye. Just like that, the figure froze.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, before reaching for a large pan on the kitchen counter. 

 “I don’t think hitting it with a skillet will work.” He grit his teeth, spreading his legs wider in preparation, though for what, he wasn’t sure. He’d never actually fought a ghost before, but for you, he’d try. He always would, whether it was robbers in alleys or ghosts or geese.

“It scares more of them than you think.” You grunted and then hurled the pan, the rusted iron flying through the ghost’s torso, momentarily shredding its form. The pan struck the far wall, crashing through the rotted drywall as the ghost let out a haunting wail. You jabbed a finger at it, your tone taking on the note you often used on aggressive raccoons who bothered you in alleys. “Shoo! Beat it!”

The wailing only grew louder. Its jaw unhinged and dropped down against its chest, even its teeth howling.

“Oh, spare me the tears. You’re not a banshee. Fuck off!” Another pot flew through the air, this time sailing through its head. The wailing abruptly ceased, the shape jerking as if you’d startled it. “Go on! Get out of here!”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

There was a low hiss, and then it sprinted, the figure racing towards you. He tried to pull you back but you shook him off, tilting your head up just in time for the figure to lurch to a stop, its face a mere inch from yours.

You didn’t blink, narrowing your eyes.

It leaned closer, your hair stirring as it whispered gibberish at you, its mouth moving too quickly for any mortal, loud jabbering like the buzz of insects in Matt’s ears.

“What’s it saying?” you said mildly. “I can see it but I can’t really hear it. Nothing but whispers.”

“I don’t… think it’s saying anything,” he said warily, resisting the urge to step between you and the ghost as it inched closer, a mere half inch now.

Its head snapped in a ninety-degree angle to the right, gaping mouth yawning wide before it jabbered more noise, this time vaguely understandable, to Matt’s ears at least.

It drew in a breath, the room dropping in temperature in a sudden rush, so sudden frost appeared on the windows, before it shrieked in your face.

“Right, I heard that.” You snorted, before jutting your chin up. “You listen. You all have been bothering us all night, and it’s about to stop. You wanna know why?”

‘No, no, nO, why? WhY?’

“It wants to know why.” Matt’s arm wound around you as the cold shadows in the room deepened, shapes and sounds pressing inwards, listening, whispering, hissing. The walls began to shift minutely, oozing behind the crumbling drywall in a way that almost sounded like the wet rasp of diseased lungs, thick with blood and worse.

“Because my husband,” you bared your teeth in a grin, one gleeful and menacing, “is Catholic.”

The house abruptly went still, the figure in front of you letting out a stuttering gust of air that tasted like mold and decay, like peeling wallpaper and rotted clothes. 

 “And you know what that means,” you continued confidently. “He fucking rolls with his man, the great lamb Jesus. They are quite close, considering how often he goes to confession. As you can imagine, that also makes him close with his priest. Like brothers, or... or a father I guess.” 

 “This feels blasphemous,” Matt said, amused despite himself. 

 “Just trust me and roll with it.”

He thought about it, tipping his head one way and then the other before the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. “Have I mentioned my mother’s a nun?”

The house shuddered, windows slamming across the house as if in existential horror, as if it had once gone to Catholic school and dealt with nuns itself, and Matt could relate.

 “Basically, we can have Father Lantom and my nun-in-law here in thirty seconds to exorcise all your asses.” You threw your arms up and Matt helpfully dodged your hand where you’d almost smacked him in the face. “You want that?”

The glass chandelier above you—which seemed like a poor choice for a kitchen, Matt was fairly certain, though he’d admittedly gone to law school and not the School for Decorating Future Haunted Houses—began to sway and creak, the whole house groaning. Doors slammed, footsteps rang out up and down the stairs, an old radio two floors up beginning to blare a pulse of static. The ghost in front of you reared back, its form striking against the ceiling like a wave of cool shadow about to come down on you both.

“Should you really be antagonizing them?” Matt asked you curiously. 

 “Just hang on, it’s a process” you told him, before drawing in a deep breath and letting your voice ring out. “Show me the fucking phone and we’ll leave. No priest needed. Or you can fuck with us, and you all don’t get to scare the shit out of drunken teenagers anymore, which I’m sure you like doing. Take your pick.”

Whispering filled the house, swelling in rapid waves, as if the floors began to discuss with the ceiling, who questioned the attic and the cracked windows that were thoughtfully leaking what Matt suspected was more blood, which dripped down to the arguing shadows in one of the upstairs bedrooms who were debating nuns versus being able to scare teenagers for the next fifty years until the house came down and they had to hitchhike to a new one, which was really a lot of effort, but until Uber hit the Great Beyond, it was the best they could do.

It didn’t take long.

Just like that, every hint of activity… abruptly vanished, including the ghost in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said firmly. “Now show me the phone. I know you assholes took it.”

A sullen silence grew in the house. 

 “Matt, call up Father Lantom and Sister Maggie.”

A pot in the corner fell with a sheepish clang, revealing the phone that had been hidden beneath it.

“Right,” you said quickly, snatching up the phone and taking Matt’s arm. “We should go.”

“I love you,” he said in amusement, as he let you lead him out. “Have I told you that?”

“Yes, and honestly, I’m just glad you’re Catholic. I know I joke about the guilt but that really came in handy.” 

 “I’m glad my Catholic guilt complex could save the day instead of ruin it for once.”

[necessarymeanstoanend]

(nude face + gore version posted below the cutoff)

alex forbes,

the year is 2009 and he walks into some sort of public function on Halloween. he wanders around the trivial arrangement, scanning faces and searching for anything that might pique his interest. the skull makeup is what catches his eye at first, a symbol he’d trained himself to look for and take comfort in. there should’ve been no good reason that a painted face was holding his attention for as long as it was, there were countless skeletal costumes running around, yet somehow this stranger was keeping him captive. maybe it was the well tailored suit (serving as a lack of overall costume) that paired plainly with this man’s gothic face-paint, maybe it was hour of night, or maybe it was the fact that this stranger wasn’t a stranger at all. the longer alex looks, he begins to see, a now grown man; who looks suspiciously like the boy he shot in the face three years ago. it’s hard to tell with all of that makeup, but a familiar whisper re-inhabits the back of his brain and he knows his doom for certain, the boy man is none other than the once brilliant and corrupt young student, nigel colbie.

sharing these as well bc you all should know by now that i can’t help but have 30 different versions of the same drawing.

[taintedcigs]

can't decide what i should write next... vampire!eddie or bartender!eddie... or a fboy!steve to how you get the girl.... OR OR... werewolf!steve....

[90smisaki]

Spooky pumpkin

[timmurleyart]

Glass pumpkins I made in a glassblowing class.🎃🎃💛🧡❤️🍁

[m3llowm1sh]

guys holy shit i predicted melodie................

[creativepromptsforwriting]

haunted ☺️

Love the smiley after it, makes it really look haunted.

Here are some ghost prompts for you:

Inconvenient things a ghost could do

Human x Ghost Prompts

Human/Ghost Dialogue Prompts

Haunted

She realized early on that you didn't need ghosts for something to be haunted.

"Oh, the thought of that is still haunting me... Please never mention it again."

There are perks of being a ghost. Walking through walls was fun. Or haunting annoying people. But nothing was quite as nice as being able to just fade out of a conversation that you didn't want to be a part of.

"I'm definitely not going into old and most likely haunted houses. I'm not afraid, I'm just not an idiot."

Everyone agreed that the diner was haunted. New guests would soon realize why they thought that.

"This is hauntingly beautiful."

The sign for the haunted house appeared right around Halloween and that alone wouldn't be something to raise eyebrows. But that the entire house just appeared at the same time as well was a little suspicious.

"I'm not haunting a filthy public bathroom, I'm a ghost with class."

One Word Prompt Lists

[killertoons]

Imp wally in FULL COLOR!

I'll do a color reference sheet for him later but say his name three times and HES THERE!

The official au name for this Is Haunted home! Ran by me and @amazinlei more for the others will be out soon!

[poisonpeche]

Ahhhhh I had a sexy lil dream about scare actor levi and it was just great 🥰 specifically when you wrote about seeing him walking slowly to you frame by frame in strobe lights - and then it became like a game of hide and seek, but everything was heightened because it’s a haunted house and he was dressed up with a chainsaw prop so the thrill was 👌🏼

A sexy lil’ dream about scare actor Levi what a fuckin’ trick AND treat, Nonnie.

First of all, love that for you. Secondly, I too have an overactive imagination and have him in my thots daily.

Let’s share a new nightmare dream together, shall we? 👻

***

Paranormal Activity Part II | Levi Ackerman x You

Summary: Scare Actor Levi chases you in a haunted house with the star of the show, a chainsaw. Or is it…You?

NSFW, MDNI, 18+ ONLY - TW: Role Playing, Mutual Masturbation, Light Spanking, Degradation if you squint, Temperature Play, Fake Blood & Gore, Spooky Themes. Turns out you two have a kink for Exhibitionism in Haunted Houses.

Read Part I

The grime of his pitch black makeup smears down his high cheeks and cut jaw.

Eyes as sharp and silver as a dagger in the night darting around every corner for you…

“Where are youuu, sweetheart?” He sing songs in a mocking timbre with a gentle rev of the chainsaw’s engine.

You’d whimper, but he’d find you all too easily.

Another game to your arsenal. Levi’s Game.

A crimson glow drips down the walls in a thick haze like blood, a fitting scene for the maze you’re panting through. Hair whipping as you twist your neck around with eyes wide. As you turn away from the only light source down a deep entrance, your fingers run over the battered and bruised wood of the hallway. You desperately search for something to hold onto as your sight strains against the dark void.

Tips extended wide and futile, you brush over something smooth to the touch yet hard. And warm.

“Hah! I found you, you sicko - you lost!”

A sliced neck greets you with entrails unfurling in waves and you nearly fall to the ground as a blaring horn is triggered with a flash. A decapitated figure suspended and tragic looms over you and you absolutely hate that he nearly got you.

A snicker, brutal and seductive floats through air and down your spine. It’s him. He feels near and far away like an entity. Like a ghost.

“What else would those gorgeous legs do, but lead you right into my trap? As always,” he mocks through a snarl.

You roll your eyes and gather yourself, lunging forward with a scoff. You begin searching for your next hiding place. But why not taunt your predator into madness while you’re at it?

“Hmm very funny,” you jeer, seizing control.

“What’s so funny, hm?”

“Funny, that you’re convinced they only get me into trouble. When they seem to only devastate you. Isn’t that right? Levi.”

You’re quite the multitasker as you manage to search for a new hiding place and fatally flirt with him. He lets you pretend to win as he watches your skirt ride up over your thighs while you bend down amidst an earthen set of uprooted trees and cracked stone.

Fuck, if he doesn’t love to watch.

The way the fat of your thighs spill through your fishnets. Another purchase for his girl. The lattice stretching wide against your skin.

He wants to lick you stupid.

But settles for pathetically twitching in his high waisted jeans wrapped so tight around his navel at the sight of you in that pastel pink skater dress. The one with with the high neck and flowing long sleeves against the harsh lines of your stockings and thigh high boots. The one he adores. He’d growl if it wouldn’t give him away.

The contrast of you makes him dizzy, but he can’t lose focus. Not now. Not when you’re within range. His prey.

“The only thing that would devastate me is not getting to taste you in that.”

You cut off your own whimper rising in your throat. But he hears. He always hears.

“Bet you’re wet for me right now aren’t you, sweetheart?”

This time you can’t stop the whine. And he laughs as your crouched thighs begin to tremble against the heel of your boots.

“That’s what I thought.”

He reaches down for you through the swirls of fog and you bolt right before he can have you.

His fingerless glove clad hand recoils and he snarls with a rip of the chainsaw, piercing the air and it has your blood rushing as you run.

And he just manages to smack your ass with the taught leather as he struggles to catch you.

The sting rushing to your skin as your skirt flutters like butterfly wings with a nocturnal beast gnashing at your tail.

“Give me what I want before I take it from you.”

You grunt in frustration as you round the corner.

“Lose already, so I can,” he heaves a delighted sigh through an evil grin as he rolls his neck with a shudder, “reward you.”

You gulp down a groan as you weave through a confined space of…hanging corpses. Lifeless bodies strung up and your imagination reels. They feel like they’re writhing against you. Slimy and unmistakably dead as they swing and knock you off your feet until your shockingly stilled. An iron grip around your waist as he plunges out a trap door to you close enough to catch you and devour your neck in a kiss. The heat of the dying chainsaw searing your thigh. Enough to send sparks through you, but not to burn.

He’s pulling you back through the door before you can protest with a tight grip around your wrist as you’re pinned against the wall of the secluded secret room.

He’s buries his sharp nose in the soft skin of your neck, nuzzling deep with a dark inhale of his cologne on your throat has his eyes rolling back. His scent of whiskey, oak, and mulled cider marking you at your own accord and he loses his damn mind.

“What were you thinking, pretty girl?”

You know exactly what he implies. What were you thinking wearing that deliciously femme dress flowing in cascades over your curves against the harsh crisscross pattern choking your legs? To top it all off with a masculine musk that has him seeing stars. His scent.

The way you toy with his expectations of you revs his pulse like the trigger of the chainsaw dangling in between your legs. Pressed against your pussy. Waiting.

“I wasn’t,’’ you whisper against him.

He grins at your submission. So you’ll behave after all.

“I’ll make sure of that,” he promises with every intention to have you fucked dumb.

But how?

He leans in to press sweet kisses into your neck. The dull heat of the chainsaw in between your thighs causes your moan to shiver across his tongue.

He’d laugh if he wasn’t so floored by you.

Taking off his demin jacket and laying it out on the floor beneath you, he softly commands, “Get down.” Another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “On your knees.”

Weak in them already, the short drop to the floor at his feet is a welcome relief. You bask in his presence waiting for more, gripping the backs of his ankles as you peer up at him.

“I know you like this shit,” he revs the trigger with a quick pulse that sends your heart racing, “don’t you?”

Wide-eyed and feigned innocence, you softly nod before him.

“I know you do, baby. Listen to me.”

He cups your jaw with his hand, thumbing your cheek with nothing but devotion. You tremble at his exaltation. He means to comfort you before the final blow.

“Fuck yourself on it.”

He lowers the chainsaw in between your spread knees, pushing the blade in between your parted thighs. The smooth flat ridge of the handle covering the trigger rests inches below your throbbing cunt.

Your answer is in the string of arousal that drips from your spread lips over the trigger of the saw.

Levi’s dark laugh has you squeezing your thighs around the outside of the machine as he sits down in front, facing you with his back against the far wall and legs spread to cage you in with his bent knees at your hips. He’s close enough to see every detail.

He likes to watch after all.

Who are you to deny him a good show?

You splay your palms flat over your plush thighs and inch agonizingly upward, dragging your fingers over your bunched hem in a slow reveal.

With a slide of your finger, the first gift of the night is unwrapped, a black silk garter straining against the fat of your thigh and threatening to spill over.

You swear you can see Levi’s throat bob at your display while he looks on with a hunger that sets you ablaze.

Palming yourself further still, the skirt drapes back to reveal a full set of intricate criss crosses and…What were you fucking thinking?

His heads cocks to the side in shock. Eyes sliding to the center of you to find nothing there. Just your bare pussy drooling through the fishnets. You’re not wearing any panties and he just might die.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Fondness dripping his tone as he reaches up to cup your jaw and you nuzzle against his palm with a kiss to his wrist.

His thumb strokes you under your eye with a tenderness that could break your heart.

You whimper and his eyes turn black.

“M gonna make it all better for you, baby. Do you trust me?”

Your tiny nod has a possessiveness seeping into every one of his thoughts as he reaches for you only to catch one of the loops in the netting and pulls hard.

The rip of the fabric exposes your cunt to the chill of the house, creaking and alive with blares of traps and screams all around you.

As a red light pulses overhead you see him in strobing images, each more beautiful and devastating than the last as he stares at you with pure hunger. His jaw hangs and lips part taking the image of you in.

“Sit. Spread my pussy out for me.”

More drips down your legs at the words.

Obeying, you slot the handle in between your lips as they drape over the sides. The warmth of the saw has you gasping at the contact, but you find yourself getting hard with the heat. Clit swollen and twitching at every movement against the soft sear.

“You can take it, baby,” he hisses through his teeth in awe of you as you relax into his warm voice.

Levi takes your wrists and drapes them around his neck and you soothe yourself with the soft shave of his undercut. You lace your fingers into his dark strands and pull yourself forward to him, riding the handle of the chainsaw. Your shameless moan has him in a daze.

“My perfect girl,” he can still smell himself on you as you buck to him.

The glint and gleam of his piercings against the dull light compete with his eyes only for you lost in the black grime trailing down his cheeks.

He reaches around your hips, grabbing a palm full of your ass. He encourages a deeper slide against the metal and you cry out for him. You’re so wet he can hear every movement you make. The sound of your own slick getting you off in return.

As you look up to Levi he’s unzipping his pants and taking himself out. Pink and aching and horrible.

He strokes himself to you as his head falls back against the black wall with his eyes sitting low as you continue to fuck yourself in front of him.

The leather of his gloves ruined from his weeping head as his bare fingers slide faster with every pump.

Your nipples harden at the sight of him and you pull your neckline down for him to see. The drool pooling on your tongue falls as you salivate, coating your nipple with a whimper. They perk and glisten as Levi’s tongue darts out. He wants to taste, but let’s you work. You deserve to feel so good.

He groans at you. His star.

“Wanna fuck you with my cock, but I wouldn’t get the same view, now would I?”

Your panting picks up and you squeeze your thighs.

“Wouldn’t get to see all of you. How pretty you look…”

He leans in inches from your lips and catches them in a kiss.

A rumble erupts at your core as he pulses the trigger briefly beneath you, keening with your head thrown back. The vibrations of the saw sending your senses into overdrive as you fight to catch your breath. The thrill only mounting.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you? Of course you do. You’re mine.”

He revs it again for a longer pulse as your grind deepens and you have to grab his shoulder to steady yourself, gripping his bicep for dear life.

Your cry stifled by the chaos around you, but Levi sees it all unfold. Your parted lips in a scream and he’s already won.

“Lev’ it’s—fuck, so good—I wanna hah,” you beg and plead and it’s only fueling him to break you down to your most basic desires. To fuck and to be fucked. To twist and to writhe, and he’ll just look on and adore you like the art that you are.

“If you want to, don’t look away. Only me. Can you do that, my love?” He groans out on an exhale as he relentlessly works his cock. The flick of his wrist hypnotizing you. Precum smearing and his own thighs begin to shake.

“Don’t ever wanna—mmm—leave you. Never, never. Levi, you’re so, so—fuck, I…I,” you’re breathless, but somehow, “I love you.”

He presses the trigger into overdrive and you’re flying off the edge, tumbling and crashing into him. You can’t hear him say it over the cacophonous noise reverberating off the walls, but you see the tender I love you too flow from his lips with his eyes wide and glassy. The look he gives you could heal you and destroy you.

You want it all.

Your chest hitting his as you’re thrown from the machine crying out his name. You cum hard in waves and the scene brings him there as you shake in his arms. White dripping over his fist as he locks his dark eyes with you.

He promised he’d never look away.

Maybe you’ll learn to catch something as wild and unpredictable as smoke while he sinks into your eyes, spilling all his secrets in his stare.

***

Read Part I

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[still-nix-d-goffic]

Necessary seasonal chart.

[captain-amadeus]

I scheduled this for October 1st so I would not miss out on Halloween

[wizardnuke]

dnd players i need your pitches for a oneshot i'm supposed to be dming on friday the 13th. i have a few ideas but i would like some more and ALSO ttrpgs other than dnd itself are fine if you happen to have a different one in mind

[tomwambsgans]

poltergeist (2015) nicholas braun + enfield haunting mattmac.... imagine

[all-that-you-can-draw]

Find a random house on Google Maps and redraw it as a spooky haunted house.