Better Later Than Never: Dalton Lambert X Reader

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

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So I didn’t understand how this worked before, so lemme try again. Also, thank you so much for tagging me

Last Song I listened to: Baby, I’m Yours (The Arctic Monkeys Cover)

Currently (re) watching: Supernatural

Currently Reading: A Million Junes (plus a bunch of other fanfic)

Current Obsession: Dalton Lambert, Supernatural and The Lost Boys (want to write for all three so send requests)

Tags I’d like to get to know better:

@purplevioletshoes

@brookediamonds

@explosiongamora

@elizabe-thh

@nyx22-blogs

@flaminghotcheetoos

9 people you would like to know better.

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.

Currently Reading: about to start the icebreaker by Hannah Grace. Also Reading a lot of fanfiction for shows like Teen Wolf and Ted Lasso.

Current Obsession: The Lost Boys but it does changes like every week 😂🤷🏻‍♀️

Tagging people I'd like to know better;

@hopefulromances @darklydeliciousdesires @drabbles-mc @fanficimagery @britany1997 @blueicequeen19 @its-time-to-write

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bro??

Ty Simpkins has a gf?

OH MY GOD, i mean, im devastated (dw also happy for him)

but why tf did he announce her that way?!

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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

Keep reading

In honor of my newest series, i’ve decided to post a headcanon series to publish in between chapters so that y’all have something to read. Won’t be directly related to the series but can be kept in mind while reading. If y’all have a specific prompt you’d like to share, feel free to

Warnings: none, aside from a few foul language words, nothing to be concerned over

Random Quirks about the Boys

David:

* Cannot stand sweets, in any capacity, it hurts his teeth. Constantly thinks about cavities and diabetes even though he can’t get either. He just doesn’t like the flavor of sweet things, not even fruit. Marko once forced him to eat cotton candy and he tossed Marko off a cliff while struggling not to vomit.

* Knows everything there is to know about every metal band ever. It’s the only music he likes, with no variation, so he knows even the most underground bands. Even ones from out of state or other countries. And he’ll bring it up randomly into conversations with the others having no idea what he’s talking about. Max tries to learn to so David doesn’t feel isolated by it.

*Always the second to wake up at night. Sometimes the other boys will rotate between who wakes up first, it’s never planned, it just happens like that. But without fail, David will always wake up second, it’s weird and they don’t know how he does it. (Paul and Marko have tried multiple times to wake up at the same time and for some reason, it never works out and they always end up waking up first and third)

Marko

*This man has absolutely zero concept of personal space, it doesn’t even matter who he’s with or standing next to, he will always be just a bit too close. Strangers, children, old people. He’s banned from wandering off on his own for this very reason bc Max thinks he draws too much attention. Star and Laddie both love it tho

*Has experimented with pretty much every media of art and has settled into cooking, clothing up-cycling and mural painting. His absolute worst attempt was knitting, he couldn’t get the hang of it like the old ladies on tv and ended up throwing on of the needles into Paul’s eye

*Do not ask this man for anything if you need it. He will not have anything useful. No pens, gum, band-aids, tape, paper, snacks, drinks, hair ties, nothing. He will always have a needle and thread and a stapler if you need that though. He likes to click the stapler in his brothers’ ears and Dwayne had to buy Marko a new one after he crushed it in his hands one time. Dwayne wasn’t even sorry about it which is why Marko held a grudge for months even after it was replaced.

Paul

*He gets so easily distracted that you’ll have to redirect him at least three times every conversation. There is no other way. He will not notice most things without express direction and he won’t try to either. Like, if it’s important, you will let him know

*He takes the most time getting out the door when the boys go out. David has shirt hair, Marko has curly hair that just needs to be gelled, and Dwayne is just an asshole about it. Both Paul and Dwayne’s hair is similarly cut and yet Dwayne never has trouble with his, and nothing pisses off Paul more

*Super dramatic, easily the most dramatic out of the four. He will over react to literally everything and is super expressive. He has a really loud sense of humor that only Star, Laddie and Marko can really stand. And that’s not just out of the Lost Boys characters, that’s out of literally everyone he’s ever interacted with

Dwayne

*He’s secretly super competitive. Like, he’ll try to come off as aloof as David is, maybe even more so, but he is super competitive for the dumbest things. It’s not about girls, most sports, or kills when they feed. It’s about who gets out the door first (always him just to piss off Paul), or who’s bike is the cleanest in the mornings before they go to sleep, or who ate the most food. He’s competitive about things the others don’t care about in the slightest

*Always over prepared with literally everything. Has a canvas bag just full of the most random and useful shit that he either keeps with his bike or tied to his belt loops to carry with him. It looks weird when he does that. He usually carries it because of Marko and Laddie and they are always asking him for stuff wondering if he’s actually managed to bring it. It’s spooky, but he always does

*Talks in his sleep, a lot, every single night. Doesn’t move around or anything, he’s stark still, just hanging there and talking. It absolutely terrifies everyone and they all avoid sleeping within six feet of him. It even bothers Max and he’s had to talk to Dwayne about it multiple times. Dwayne had no idea that he does it until Max said something bc he just assumed the boys were complaining to mess with him

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Guess who’s back, back again…still without a new chapter (it’ll come out soon, i promise)

For now tho, to feed the masses bc i didn’t really expect my works to get as much attention as they have

The Lost Boys Head Canon: Kissing

David:

*While David isn’t generally an affectionate partner, he has a very physical presence that can be very affective

*His kisses match his presence; they are very slow and seductive, he likes to entice his partner completely

*When he kisses you, it’s very precise, like there’s nothing else on his mind but every single little thing that he’s doing

*David will grab your chin and waist to make sure that you’re completely immersed in him and his kiss, he needs your complete focus to be on him, like his is on you

*He’ll usually only kiss you in private too, he feels like it makes the experience more special, since it’s all for you and you only.

Paul:

*I feel like Paul is a very openly affectionate person, and his kisses reflect that

*When Paul kisses you, it’s very sporadic, but sweet. Like, his mood will change mid-kiss and he’ll go from a simple peck to feral frenching in 0.02 seconds, or vice versa

*Honestly, it’s sort of like a game to him, with you trying to guess his next move or try to keep up with him, kissing him is just really fun

*Paul doesn’t really fully understand that different types of kisses, he knows there are multiple ways to kiss someone, but his main focus is that the act of kissing is enjoyable, he won’t get caught up in the different reasons you might wanna kiss someone

*he likes to twine his fingers with yours as you kiss, or he’ll stroke up and down your arms, he’d most definitely smile during the kiss too. Sometimes he’ll just walk up next to you and press a kiss to the side of your mouth and keep walking

Marko:

*A lot like Paul, he’s a lot more relaxed and open with affection, and thinks kissing should be light-hearted and enjoyable rather than anything else

*He will try to convince his brothers of this line of thinking -especially Dwayne- after kissing you

*To him, kissing you is like inventing religion, it’ll surpass the ages and affect the masses. He’s so cute and sweet about it. His kisses are definitely worshipful

*While not as romantic or thoughtful as his brothers might seem, his main priority when he kisses someone is that they enjoy it, so it’ll always be lowkey and simple so there’s room for conversation on how it feels without it being awkward

*He prefers the relaxed kisses for when you’re just within each other’s presence and are feeling affectionate, like a reminder that you love each other without saying anything

*Marko will definitely cradle your face or hold you in a hug when kissing you, full frontal, and he often laughs while kissing you too, just giggling in disbelief at how lucky he is

Dwayne:

*Every middle-aged-woman-who’s-obsessed with-trashy-airport-novel’s wet dream with the way this man kisses

*Its extremely sensual, almost obscene, and he will often deepen it bc he wants it to go further, and to be honest, it often does

*A lot like David, his affection is reserved for you, but in the way that he will get lost in you that he simply stops caring about the people who might see you

*You take his breath away and he has no other way to handle himself than to make you feel the same way. He’s a romantic, what can he say?

*He will pull you in by your clothing and hold you as tightly against his body as he can, he kisses you like he’ll never be able to again and it induces butterflies like crazy

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yeah, no problem😊

it’s kinda in between a red flag and a green flag, like neutral or odd.

example: having a friend who is a very erratic driver but they always get you where you need to go on time and in one piece, it’s just very terrifying to drive with them.

Dalton is totally a green flag. but he would break up with you in an instant if he thinks his “condition” puts you in danger. he prioritized your safety even if he had to let you go.

Possessed Dalton on the other hand, is a big red flag. playing with your feelings, only use you for his own benefit. but sexy af. I know. probably has a rope kink or something. and is it just me or does he looks bigger when he gets possessed?

and then there is our king Ty who probably would give you a mixed signal. idk.

If it's okay can I please ask what animes you write for

Oh, love, it’s more than okay!😊 I write for MHA (not a huge fan of the fandom or the fanon version of the characters) Haikyuu!, FREE!, Jujutsu Kaisen, AOT, OHHC…

There’s more but currently I can’t think of any. If you have any requests, just lemme know, ‘kay?

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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.”

~*~*~*~*~

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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no no no i NEED a pt 2 for ‘In The Room Where You Sleep’ it was a work of art 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

It Will Come Back (part II to “In The Room Where You Sleep”)

Summary: After accidentally giving Dalton a free show, you decide to take a step back from your friendship with him. Dalton does not take kindly to that.

Warnings: Dalton being extra creepy, stalking, murderous intent, reader feeling unsafe, reader’s conflicting emotions, unhealthy responses to being caught masturbating, unsafe sex (wrap before you tap, folks), rough sex, penetrative sex, cream pie, implications of a breeding kink, suggestive comments, Reader letting Dalton off too easy for purpose of plot, noise complaints from neighbors, reader has a perversion kink, fluff kinda. THIS IS A NSFW WORK OF FICTION! MINORS DNI! ALL READERS ARE HELD PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR MEDIA INTAKE!

“So, did you sleep well last night?”

Oh fuck.

Did he know?

He couldn’t have…

*Astral Projector* Yes the fuck he could have.

“I slept fine, why?” You narrowed your eyes in false confusion and tried to keep the suspicion from your tone. You knew Dalton could’ve very well seen what you’d been up to last night, but he had told you that he rarely ever projected anymore. And hardly ever on purpose.

As you silently and awkwardly ate your breakfast, you tried to sort out your feelings on how Dalton’s potential peeping had made you feel.

For one, you felt grossed out. You were doing something so private and intimate, it felt like a violation to be watched, unaware and vulnerable. You were also angry at him for those very reasons. You would’ve been grossed out if it was anyone, but it was Dalton. Your friend Dalton, who you trusted and relied on. There was a bit of guilt, too. You were masturbating to pictures of him that he had sent. That was incredibly pervy, and it hadn’t occurred to you to feel guilt until the possibility of him knowing became real. You also felt kind of used, like you were some free, live action porn for him of get his rocks off to.

That’s where the complications started within you, too. There was a part of you that felt electrified when Dalton had first buried his face into that pillow and smirked at you. So knowingly and predatory. Your core clenched at the thought of him finding you like that, desperate and wanton for his touch. You wanted to know how he’d reacted, how much he’d seen. If how he was acting now was any indication, he’d liked what he’d seen.

It made you feel proud and sexy, which wasn’t right. It was gross. He was gross. That’s all you should feel about him and his actions.

Potential actions. You still didn’t actually know how if he had seen or anything. He was acting suspicious, or maybe you just felt that he was because he had grabbed a pillow that was covered in your cum.

“Why are you being so quiet? Is everything all right?” Dalton lifted his head lazily from that damned pillow, his face filled with concern. It amplified your guilt.

That wasn’t the face someone made if they were creeping on you. It was the face a genuinely worried friend made. Maybe more if you weren’t such a paranoid freak.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I guess,” you replied, trying to sound more alert and upbeat. You took in a deep, calming breath. This was Dalton you were with, he’d never done anything to make you feel unsafe. It was why you had feelings for him in the first place.

“What were you up to when we stopped talking last night? Working up a sweat?” Was he pressing his nose into the pillow and sniffing it?

“What?”

“You’re wearing workout clothes?” Oh.

“Oh, yeah. Um, no, I didn’t do much after you started doing your homework. Just on my phone,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly. You were feeling very chalant right now, very fucking chalant.

You were wearing workout clothes because they were at the top of your clean clothes pile. The one you hadn’t gotten around to folding yet. After your little self-session last night, you fell asleep without putting your clothes back on, so you’d woken up naked when he started knocking on your door.

Actually, you’d been in such a rush, that you hadn’t even picked up your clothes from last night. You discreetly peered over at where you knew you’d tossed them. The t-shirt was there but your panties weren’t in sight. You knew it was unlikely from how you’d thrown them, but maybe your underwear where under the large shirt?

“Yeah, luckily I managed to turn my assignments in good time. I actually thought about coming over after I was done, but I didn’t want to wake you up,” he informed you sweetly. And he was. So sweet.

But it was so hard to separate what you knew about him from what you suspected he’d done. And it was going to eat away at you until you knew the truth. At the same time, what if you were wrong? Would your relationship with him -platonic or not- survive your accusations?

“I probably was still awake. But it’s all good. You’re here now, right?” You had so been looking forward to spending the weekend with him. You had even planned on telling him how you felt now that you had the opportunity. Now, you just wanted to be alone.

“Yeah, of course. We’re gonna have a great time this weekend.” As his gaze raked up and down your body, there was something so lustful, it can almost be seen as malicious. Your trust in his innocence was withering away.

“I don’t know about great, but it’ll be nice. Just relaxing and hanging out. We can watch movies or read. Order take out and play games,” you replied casually, trying to sound more excited than you were.

“Oh, so we’re going middle school with this sleepover, yeah?” Dalton laughed and rolled over on his back, propping a long leg up and letting the other dangle.

“Big talk for the guy who hates literally every standard college experience. Since we’ve started school, I have not seen you have sex, drink or do drugs. You literally only went to a single frat party because Chris forced you,” you teased, forcing yourself to be more relaxed.

“I don’t hate every college experience, I just prefer being sober,” he corrected, very pointedly leaving out the ‘sex’ part of your list.

You got up to throw the trash from your breakfast away, and made a point of looking like you were freshening up your room. You picked up yesterday’s t-shirt with your toes, noting the lack of panties under them and silently panicked.

Where the fuck did they go? They were right here last night. You were sure of it.

You remembered that Dalton could interact with the physical world while in the Further and slowly turned to him, now thoroughly convinced that he had spent some time in your room last night.

“Hey, Dalton? When you’re projecting, you can move things, right?” You knew he could already. When he had told you about it, he had also shown you how it worked to prove it to you.

“Okay, that was random. Yeah, why?” You don’t know what he saw in your face, but he automatically sat up straight on your bed.

“Did you come in here last night? Like, did you project in here when I couldn’t see or hear you?” Your tone was accusatory and panicked, your voice raising slightly in volume as a result.

A short pause. “Yeah,” he answered, his face losing all humor and friendliness. It looked pleading and defensive.

“How long?”

From the amount of time it took for him to answer the question, you knew that anything that came from his mouth would be a lie.

“Just a second. When I finished my homework, I wanted to see if it was cool for me to come over. I didn’t want to wake you up by calling or texting, so I decided to come check on you. I left as soon as I saw. Even if you weren’t sleeping, I figured you wouldn’t want me to come over when you were like that,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work and you could feel yourself mentally withdrawing from him. It wasn’t just the peeping, it was the lying, and how he only felt badly about it when you seemed uncomfortable with it. Not because he was actually sorry. Actually, no. He hadn’t even apologized, so he wasn’t even fake-sorry.

You took a moment to think on it, keeping your face as neutral as possible. Calling him out on it wouldn’t do anything, neither would sending him away. He could come in whenever he wanted and do anything to you. You swallowed the part of you that was excited by that by reminding yourself that most people found that repulsive.

There was nothing that you could do to keep yourself safe from him, especially if you made him angry. There was also nothing you found yourself wanting to do either, a small voice in your head reminded you.

The thought of him no longer in your life was heartbreaking, devastating even. As upset as you were, your intense feelings for him were still there. But, this wasn’t healthy or what you knew as normal. For that part of yourself, you felt like taking a break from him was what was necessary.

“Okay. Sorry you had to see that,” you chirped after a few moments of fluttering around your room. The fact that you had to apologize to him felt like cement in your mouth with every word.

“No, I’m sorry. It was invasive. I should’ve just texted you or something,” he insisted.

How could someone who sounds so sincere and caring be such a pervert?

The rest of the weekend was tense. Really tense. When you watched a movie, you made sure to sit at the opposite end of the couch from him. You didn’t talk to him as much, and you barely initiated any conversation yourself. The night was the worst part. You couldn’t just offer up Carla’s room to him to sleep in, and you couldn’t send him to the couch because that would make him suspicious.

You did make sure that you weren’t sleeping under the same blanket as him, but that still didn’t relax you enough to sleep. Even if you had made sure to wear your most concealing pajamas. You spent the whole night faking slumber, wondering if he was walking around your dorm like some sort of ghost and watching you. The worst part of it was that you had no way of knowing if he was projecting or not. His chest was rising and falling slowly, and his handsome face was peaceful. You inwardly screamed, not being able to help the invasive thoughts telling you that under different circumstances, you’d be blushing and unable to sleep for an entirely different reason.

If last night hadn’t happened, you’d be wearing your most revealing nightie and eager to cuddle close to him in your bed. You felt guilty for having masturbated at all last night and potentially ruining your friendship for it.

In the morning, you nearly jumped with joy when your roommates informed you that she was returning early after ruining her dad’s birthday by getting drunk and slugging his indoor pet donkey. It was the most ridiculous thing you had ever heard of and you would’ve laughed out loud if you weren’t so relieved.

You were careful to seem very sad and disappointed when you told Dalton the news. He laughed at the excuse and asked if it was real. You showed him the text and he pulled you into a hug while chuckling.

You wanted to melt into him and hug him back. Forty-eight hours ago and you wouldn’t been through the roof with happiness. Instead, you curled your hands into his shirt and tucked your face into his neck so he wouldn’t see your expression of discomfort.

As soon as he left that afternoon, you made special care to lock the door and immediately ran to your room, hiding under your blanket until Carla stumbled through the door, grumpy from her hangover.

*~*~*

Dalton was upset. For many reasons. All different. All relating to you.

He should’ve been ecstatic. That’s how he wanted to feel. That’s how everything in his life was positioned to make him feel.

He got to spend the night with you, even getting to sleep next to you in your bed. He ate with you, watched movies with you, and he laughed with you as he finished getting dressed after his shower. He didn’t imagine the way you admired his bare torso after he toweled his hair dry.

But you barely talked to him. You wouldn’t touch him, and god, he wanted you to. He wanted to touch you, but he could tell that you evaded him on purpose. You let him hug you, squeeze your hand, nudge you with his foot to make sure you were paying attention to the movie. When he woke up in your bed his arm wrapped around your tummy, you looked restful and happy while still asleep.

And after he left because your stupid roommate couldn’t hold her fucking liquor, you texted him a ‘thank you’ with a kiss emoji. A kiss emoji. Just like you had that night. The night you had confronted him about.

He didn’t expect you to be so okay with it. And after the shock wore off, he was flooded with relief and satisfaction. That had to be an invitation, right? You wanted him to. You liked it. You wanted him to do it again, if he wanted to. He knew you noticed your missing underwear. You must have known that he took them. And you had let him keep them.

But you hadn’t been texting him as much.

On average, your texted Dalton a lot more frequently than he texted you. Not because he wasn’t interested or because he was a bad texter. You were just very enthusiastic and had a lot more to say to him. He was as quiet in his messages as he was in real life.

It was different after the sleepover, though. You were drier, and distant. Instead of actually talking to him, you would simply react to his messages. He hated it. He knew you liked him more than that, so why we’re you acting so weird?

Weeks went by like that. Suddenly, you were always with your classmates, who were your close friends all of the sudden. You wouldn’t call him. You had stopped sending him pictures of yourself in your chat after that first night. He only ever really saw you in person when he followed you around campus.

Dalton’s mood worsened with everyone during that period, and it was damaging everything in his life. Since it was spring, his art teacher wanted him to focus on nature, and creation, and rejuvenation. As if he could care less about that right now, and she noticed. His grades suffered as as result of him taking out his problems on his canvas.

His social life was even more stale than it usually was. He stopped hanging out with the few friends he had, stopped talking to everyone except his mom and Chris. And that was only because both women refused to not talk to him at least twice a day.

But Chris respected herself a lot more than his other friends did, so when he saw you on a date with some other guy and tried to ditch her, she confronted him on his behavior.

“What the fuck is up with you right now, Dolphin? And don’t say nothing, because you almost walked into traffic a second ago!” Her voice was loud and he tugged her to somewhere more dark and quiet.

“Did you see her? With some other guy?! I don’t have a problem, she’s the one with the fucking problem!” He started pacing as he snarled at Chris, glaring venomously into the direction of the restaurant where he could see you sitting across from some douche.

I could fucking…

Fuck, she looks beautiful…

She’s mine! She should be dressing up like that for me!

I should go in there. Fucking bend her over and take her right there…

Make everyone watch as she screams my name. She’d pull me in, too, her pussy would just suck me right in…

She’d kiss me, and I wouldn’t even care about seeing that dumb bastard’s face until she stopped…

Then I’d bash his fucking face into the table…until it was ruined…until no one could recognize him…until he stopped moving…

I’d keep fucking her, too. She’d want it. I saw how she is, she was still playing with herself even after she came. Her greedy cunt would need me to fill it. Fill it up all the way. Make it stick and she’ll be with me forever…

It took Dalton approximately six minutes and twenty-two seconds to realize that Chris was talking to him. And that he was really lucky that it was too dark here they were to see his erection.

“…ook, I’m sorry man. I really thought she was into you. But if this is the reason you’ve been acting so weird lately, then you have got to get a grip. It’s not fair to either of you for you to be acting like this,” Chris chastised all in one breath. She looked like she’d been doing so since the moment he’d zoned out.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s just, I thought there was a moment when we were going forward. I guess I was wrong. We should go, I think I need to be alone right now,” he apologized sincerely. And that was the truth. He was sorry. Not nearly as sorry as he was angry, but he wasn’t going to take that out on his best friend. He knew better.

He’d take it out on you.

Dalton had been projecting more often since that night. There were multiple instances with spirits, but he wouldn’t be deterred from seeing you. He was getting better at it, too. He was able to make himself visible to others while in his astral form, he tested it on Chris. He was even able to control his body and project while he was awake. He could do his homework while watching you shower.

He even got to see you touch yourself sometimes. He stopped doing it to himself that first time, controlling his body so that when he went back in, he could suck at the crotch of your panties while getting himself off. It was more connected to you that way.

He knew you still loved him, that’s why he was confused as to why you distanced yourself. When you came, it was his name falling from your tongue. When you opened and closed your messages, it was his contact you were constantly checking. You would even type out messages before deleting the words and throwing your phone in frustration.

So now, sitting in his dorm and glaring at the picture of you kneeling in front of the mirror, he debated how he should confront you on your date.

D: “Me and Chris were going for ice cream and saw you at that nice Italian place. You looked pretty. Was the food good?”

He wouldn’t ask about the guy. This wasn’t about that overstepping asshole trying to steal you away from him. It was about you, and whether you would lie to him.

You took a moment to reply and to his complete surprise and joy so strong that he could sing, you also sent a photo. Your lips were stained pink and glossy, wrapped around a thick boba straw. The angle was from above so you were looking up all innocently into the camera as you sucked the brown sugar tapioca pearls into your mouth. Dalton felt himself stiffening and adjusted himself in his seat as he read your message.

You: “Thanks. Honestly, I couldn’t really focus on the food. I was on a date and the guy ordered for me and spent the entire time talking about how much of a man he was. I didn’t even like what he ordered. I would’ve preferred being there with you.”

His heart skipped a beat and he forgot all about how upset he was with you after reading the end of your text. Wished you were with me? Like as a date?

D: “Sounds awful. Please don’t tell me he left you with the check, too.”

He added another mirror picture, this time fully clothed and making a comically inquisitive face at the camera. He still wasn’t sure where you were on this potential reconciliation, but he had high hopes given how long your message has been. You hadn’t been texting him more than one or two lines in ages.

You: “After ORDERING. FOR. ME. he casually mentions how he likes to split the bill to make sure women aren’t using him for his money. Dalton, the main course itself was $40, not including sides and appetizers. I threw my lap towel at him and took off.

You: “This fool expected me to pay for food that I didn’t even fucking order or like, after acting like he was some big shit the entire time. Dick head was lucky I didn’t toss my plate in his lap. Splitting the check? Get the fuck outta my face.”

Dinner date etiquette was a big deal to you. You had very vividly described it to Dalton when he had asked once and it was ingrained in his mind. If you asked someone on a date, then you had to pay for the outing. Exceptions can be made in certain situations, but only once a relationship was established. Askers have to pay on the first date, especially if they planned it out. Dalton empathized greatly with your situation, and was filled with even more hatred for the jackass. Still, were you only talking to him to vent about a bad date? Were you just jerking him around at your own convenience?

Your next photo was of you at your desk, you hand cupping your throat and you making a comically shocked face. Your eyes were rolled to the ceiling, your brows furrowed, and your mouth opened to an ‘o’. Dalton’s pants tightened when he thought of the other ways he could get you to make that face, none of them funny.

D: “Don’t let one experience ruin the restaurant for you. Next time, I’ll take you and you can order every little thing you think you’ll enjoy. My treat.”

As ridiculous as it made him feel, he thought it necessary to lighten the mood and show you that he meant his text as casually as possible. So, his responding photo was of him making what Chris had referred to as the “rizz face”. He made a finger gun across his chin and bit his lip in an enthusiastic and “seductive” smile. He let his head fall loudly onto his desk in embarrassment as he hit send.

You two had gotten food together plenty of times. It wasn’t odd. But you never got food at nice or upscale places like the one Dalton had seen you at. Even the semi-nice corporation chain places, like Olive Garden, it was rare. And usually only if you two were splitting a single meal. College students.

His invitation, while open to rejection, was very clearly set in a less-than-friendly way. At least he thought it was. Dalton assumed you’d see it that way, too, since he’s never once brought up fine dining to you before. This was his chance to get back in your good graces. And hopefully, be more than friends, if you accepted.

You: “That sounds nice, actually. I’d love to. Just not until I can stomach going since that jerk kinda ruined it for me. I didn’t even want to go, but Carla insisted.”

Bro, fuck Carla, man! Your next messaged came in a few seconds later.

You: “Luckily, she felt so bad that she profusely apologized and bought me boba before going to her girlfriend’s. My great suffering has ended.”

Your next picture was of you smiling into the camera with your nose scrunched cutely and your hands inverted under your chin in mock-innocence. You looked adorable. But Dalton was confused. Why the hell would you go out with a guy you didn’t even like when you could’ve been hanging out with him? It made him angry at you all over again.

D: “Why bother going out with him then? You could’ve just called me, I would’ve brought you something to eat and you would’ve actually had a good time.”

He didn’t send a photo. Neither did you after taking ten minutes to reply.

You: “Wanted an excuse to dress up.”

Dalton nearly crushed his phone in his hand. What the fuck were you doing to him? He was so sick of this chasing bullshit. He was done with your little game. You were his, and he wouldn’t accept you going out with another guy to get compliments on how pretty you were. Especially not when he was willing to spend every waking moment of his life showing you how ethereally beautiful he thought you were. He would kiss the ground you walked on, not order food you didn’t like. He would worship you, not expect you to pay for an overly priced meal. If he were able to, he’d spend entire lifetimes pleasing you and satisfying you in ways that you couldn’t even imagine and that dumb fuck you went out with wouldn’t even be capable of.

Leaving you on read, Dalton grabbed his jacket and his shoes and stormed out of his dorm, nearly sprinting to get to you. Once at your door, he barreled into your dorm, barely noticing that you’d forgotten to lock it again.

Startled at the noise, you jumped from inside the bathroom and glanced between him and your phone multiple times. Dalton then remembered that he stupidly forgot to bring his phone with him when he decided to come over.

“Dalton, what the hell?” You crossed your arms over your chest and Dalton felt his mouth water at the way it made your tits look in the lacy tank top you wore without a bra.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and reflect on what the hell he was doing, Dalton returned to his clarified anger.

“What the hell is your problem? You’ve barely talked to me in weeks and then I find out you’re going out with some fuckhead that you don’t even like when I’m right here. Begging for your attention and always available when you want or need me. You lead me on and then ignored me for other people, what do I have to do to get to be with me. Because I know you want to, so don’t bother with any of your bullshit because I’ve fucking had it with you!”

As he vented his grievances with you, he stalked over to where you were and grabbed you by your shoulder tightly. He pulled you to him closely enough that your noses were inches from touching. A part of him sang at having you so closely to him but his anger and desperation for you were so strong that his only forms of expression were physical and rough.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?! You break into my house and yell at me, and somehow you’re the victim of my behavior? You know exactly why things changed! You know why I had to go on that date! I didn’t say anything, but I know the truth, Dalton. I know what you did that night,” you confronted him, pushing him away but not actively trying to escape his hold. Dalton’s hands slipped down to your wrists, latching on when you made no move to pull away from him.

“Then why did you not tell me to leave when you found out? Why did you not say anything, tell me the truth that you knew I was lying? You let me sleep in your bed with you, baby, you let me touch you. If you think you’re all that angry about what you think happened, you sure aren’t acting like it,” Dalton hissed, tugging you close and breathing into your hair.

Your body was hot so close to his and your hair was softly tickling his chin and throat as you shook your head in denial.

“No. No, that’s not true. I just knew that saying anything wouldn’t have stopped you from doing it again,” you rebutted, glaring up at him.

You were right, he had continued because you hadn’t said anything. And you hadn’t spoken to him properly in over a month. Still, even if you couldn’t see it, Dalton knew you were lying to yourself.

“If you had said something, I would’ve stopped,” he conceded, pulling away from you. “But you can’t deny that you want me. You invited me in, over and over again. And I came running every single time. Even after seeing you with that prick. What I did isn’t some kind of dealbreaker for you. You can lie to yourself about it, but you can’t lie to me. Don’t let me in with no intention to keep me because I will keep coming back.”

When the distance shrunk between his body and yours, it was you that initiated. You glowered at Dalton smugly.

“And how exactly do you know that, Dalton?” You knew exactly what he had done, and you were goading him to make yourself seem morally superior and him less credible. But moral or not, he was still right.

“The calls are coming from the inside the house, aren’t they, sweetheart? You knew all this time and you were what? Putting on a show for me? You can’t have known which times I would’ve shown up, meaning that you were fucking yourself at every opportunity thinking I was somehow watching you. I bet you were there with your fingers pumping in your pussy wishing I would do something about it,” he accused, stroking light fingers up and down your arms.

When you hardened your glare before looking down at your feet, Dalton knew he was right. He smirked down at your before pulling a hand up and using two fingers to guide your face up to look him in the eyes.

“I can, you know, do something about it now. You just have to admit it.”

Your response was a bit more defensive than he would’ve hoped. “Admit what?”

“I want to know how you feel about me. If I hadn’t made it clear by now, I’m hopelessly in love with you. I’d do anything for you and I absolutely hate that this is the way you’re finding out about it. I’d have rather taken you out on a date and showered you with gifts and made you feel loved before actually telling you. But I get I’ll have to settle for making you angry and then fucking all of it out of you. Would you like that?”

Dalton would always remember his first kiss. It was sudden and rushed and he didn’t have enough time to actually kiss back, not that he’d wanted to. He appreciates that it’s something that he and Chris don’t talk about. It makes it all the more sweeter to think about his first actually kiss being with you.

You brought his head in slowly but lost all control when your lips met his. Dalton’s eyes squeezed shut as he grabbed the sides of your face to pull you in even closer. He gasped into your mouth, using the opportunity to lick the seam of your lips with his tongue. He had never kissed anyone, period, much less using his tongue. Everything he was doing was the result of instinct, movies, and the attempts you and Chris have made to verbally teach him how to please a woman.

You pull your mouth away from his but Dalton can’t take his lips from your body now that he’s had a taste. His lips burn their way down your throat, his kisses open-mouthed and desperate. Dalton is eating up your moans, using them to fuel and guide his actions.

“I adore you,” you gasp, fisting handfuls of his hair to keep him on you. You couldn’t have separated him from you if you tried. “I couldn’t separate what I thought was right from what I actually wanted and I’m so sick of being away from you. I wanna be with you, Dalton. I just want you, all of you.”

Dalton shoved you into the wall, pinning you there with the length of his own body. His cold fingers crawled along your ribcage, digging into the plump flesh there harshly. One of his knees shoved itself between your legs and he used his grip on your sides to settle you on his thigh.

“You’re going to feel all of me. I’ve been waiting far too long for this, so you are going to take it. You hear me? Be a good girl and enjoy it,” he hissed in your ear as he left a biting kiss on your lips, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

The little sounds escaping your mouth drive him nuts and he didn’t even bother trying to restrain himself from grinding his erection against the crotch of your sleep shorts. They barely covered anything anyway, but he still wanted to feel you bare. You rode his thigh with no shame, leaning in to kiss him again.

Dalton still didn’t know much about kissing so he didn’t protest your taking control of his lips. He accepted anything you gave him and moaned when your tongue slid into his mouth to taste him. Your hips jerked harder on him when he did and he grinned wickedly at uncovering one of your kinks.

Your hands pulled at his shirt and as he yanked it over his head, Dalton began walking backwards to your bedroom. When the backs of his knees hit your bed, he let himself fall into a sitting position, hauling you into his lap. His hands found your hips and guided you to start grinding against him again. Your hands went to your own shirt and as soon as you or chest was uncovered, Dalton was lowering his head to softly kiss and lick your breasts. One of your hands went to his hair and tugged at the roots . He moaned and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the peak.

“Dalton…shit,” you sighed, rolling your hips down on him. His erection was sliding against all of the right places, but you needed more.

He pulled off you with a pop and started aggressively biting and sucking marks across your chest at random. His hand tracked from your hip to the back of your head. He gather some hair in his hands and used it to yank your head back, forcing you to arch into him and push your breasts closer to his face.

Dalton could feel your arousal soaking through your panties and shorts and into his sweatpants. His tongue traced broad lines down your belly until he was laying back onto your bed and sliding you along his stomach and chest until your pussy was hovering above his face.

“Gonna make you cum first. Been looking forward to this for ages. You want me to have a taste, right?” His fingers curled around the waistline of your shorts and was already tugging them down your hips along with your underwear.

Your nails dug into the backs of his hands as you stopped him. “What if I’m too heavy for you?”

Dalton response was to knock your hands away from his, leaving red scratches, and drag your shorts off the rest of the way. Left completely bare, you barely got a word in edgewise before he drew you down onto his mouth. And it seems like he took the term “eating you out” a bit too seriously because he was lapping and swallowing at your lips and clit like a man starved. His tongue started thrusting in your wet heat, his grasp on your thighs threatening to bruise your flesh as he heaved you impossibly closer.

Your hands slapped onto the wall in front of your loudly as you started to ride his nose and tongue. Your head was thrown back and you were cementing out without abandon. Your dorms were bigger than Dalton’s but the walls were just as thin, yet it didn’t occur to either of you to care about your neighbors hearing.

Your release was quickly approaching, and when Dalton began suckling on your clit while simultaneously thrusting two fingers into you without warning, you lost yourself in euphoria. You lost control of your limbs, your body jerking and twitching violently as you came. And Dalton didn’t let up once, moaning around your folds as if he were the one cumming.

“Dalton? Dalton, let up.” He didn’t, smacking your hand away when you tried to push his face away from your pussy.

“I told you that you were gonna take it, and I’m not done yet,” he growled before running his nose up your slit to your clit and thrusting his tongue inside you once more. You yelled at the overstimulation and tried to lift yourself off of him but Dalton’s grip on your thighs tightened even further, refusing to let you move.

Ten minutes of calling out his name and begging, he tossed you aside into your back and climbed on top of you. Dalton dove in for a deep kiss, clearly wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue. You whimpered against his lips and locked your legs around his hood, using your feet to push his pants down his legs.

Dalton lifted his hips just enough to make the fabric go down and kicked off the offending material. He lifted up one of your knees to his ribs and lined himself up with you, all without breaking eye contact. Sealing your consent with a kiss, Dalton swallowed the shout you let out as he thrusted into you slowly.

Dalton knew he wasn’t going to last long but he was determined to give you one last orgasm and set a quick and even pace to build you up again. He buried his face into your neck kissing and biting at the soft skin as he pounded into you. His hands were glued to your shoulder and thigh, pulling your body in thrust for thrust. His head flew back in a roar when your nails raked down his back as you chanted his name over and over again. The sound of flesh slapping against wet flesh, your bed groaning and banging into the wall, and the both of your joined moaning sounded like music to Dalton and he could spend the rest of his life listening to this one melody.

“Oh, fuck, Dalton! I’m so close! I’m gonna cum!” Dalton felt that familiar pressure in his balls when he heard the sound of your whines. He tried to keep up that same steady pace so you wouldn’t lose your orgasm, but as soon as your walls tightened around him, he lost all control of himself.

He started slamming into you wildly, only after his own orgasm now. He was going so roughly that you started hitching up on the bed and had to grip the headboard to keep Dalton from potentially giving you a concussion. His hips pumped into you almost viscously and you knew you had to help him over that blissful edge.

You started kissing up his jaw and bit down on his earlobe, scratching down his chest and abs, before whispering breathily into his ear. “Cum in me Dalton! I want your cum! Give it to me! I want you feel you fill me up!”

For an added good measure, you grabbed one of his hands and spread his palm over your pelvis so that he could feel himself moving inside you.

Without a very loud shout of “Fuck!”, Dalton filled your womb with his seed before collapsing on top of you. You could feel his pushing heartbeat agent yours and wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from rolling off of you.

It took you both a few seconds of heavy panting to realize that there was still a pounding sound echoing throughout your room.

“Can you two shut the FUCK UP ALREADY!”

Both you and Dalton went completely still for a moment before bursting out into crazed laughter. You huddled together in your bed before Dalton clambered up and walked over to your bathroom.

He took just long enough that you were beginning to consider getting up yourself before he came back out again, armed with a damp rag and a bottle of your favorite lotion. He sat beside you and carefully began cleaning you up. You felt yourself blushing when he admired his cum leaking out from your hole. Then he warmed up the lotion in his hands and massaged your sore limbs, leaning over and kissing all of the marks he left with small whispers of “I love you” as his lips trailed down your body.

You dragged him down back next to you you and he positioned your body to be laying halfway on top of his, kissing your forehead and wrapping his arms around you. It didn’t take long for you to begin dozing off when he startled you with a softly spoken question.

“You’re my girlfriend now, right?”

You giggled and kissed his nose with an enthusiastic “Yes,” before allowing yourself to drift off.

*~*~*

Wow, this was probably longer than the first one! Hope y’all like it! Again, the first part and this sequel were both inspired by the Dalton imagine made by @glodessa

Also tagging these people who asked for a part two before I actually posted this

@explosiongamora

@flaminghotcheetoos

@nessabarrettsqueen

@purplevioletshoes

@12idk1234

@igotmajordaddyissues

@nyx22-blogs

@elizabe-thh

THIS CELEBRATES 60 FOLLOWERS ON THIS ACCOUNT! THANK Y’ALL SO MUCH FOR LIKING AND FOLLOWING! BE SURE TO KEEP SENDING IN THE REQUESTS BECAUSE I LOVE WRITING THEM FOR Y’ALL!

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