Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Why are we going to this again?” Damien generally disliked attending house parties, and this one was a costume party for Halloween so it was an extra level of pain in the ass. Having Miranda on his arm tempered his mood somewhat, however. For his part, he was dressed as Freddie Mercury. White sneakers, white slacks with red and gold stripes up the sides, deep v-necked white sleeveless shirt, the iconic yellow Wembley jacket left open, and a black fake moustache glued above his upper lip.

“Because it will be fun. Polina assured us as much.” Miri’s costumes always tended to be other princesses, and this evening was no exception. The midriff-baring top and lopsided skirt that rode high up one thigh, practically to the hip, had gotten the desired reaction from Damien when he came to pick her up. The boots didn’t hurt, either. He had a thing for women in boots. A portion of her hair was tied into a high, poofy tail atop her head in the distinctive style of Princess Lana from Captain N. The fact that she clung onto his arm with both hands to lay her head over his shoulder was the only thing keeping his hand from mischievously exploring her hip as they walked together.

“Yeah, I guess,” he answered noncommittally, not entirely convinced but making an effort not to rain on her parade. He would’ve rather been out doing gratuitous property damage, or stealing candy from the older kids who stole candy from smaller kids, terrifying them and then using said candy as ingredients in further acts of vandalism. This party had the potential to not suck, though. Polly was the perpetual party-crasher, but he’d never attended a shindig she’d hosted. It was at a condemned old haunted house, which was a good start.

The rusty iron gates to the once-stately old manor stood open before them, the hinges damaged so they hung at an angle and dug into the dirt, and couldn’t have been closed unless considerable strength and/or leverage were used to hold them level while swinging them inward. The yard consisted of brownish grass and tall weeds, but the path to the door was unobstructed. Sitting on the wooden steps up to the door was Hope, and Damien’s heart skipped a beat.

She was wearing a simple blue dress, red shoes, with a big red bow in her hair and was holding a broomstick, clearly meant to be Kiki from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Fuck, she was cute! Why did she have to be cute?! He took a deep breath as they approached. Play it cool, he told himself. If he stammered like a schoolboy the way he often did around Hope, he’d look like an idiot in front of her and likely upset the girl he’s brought as his date, not an ideal way to start the evening. “Hey, Hope. Cute nicetume.”

She looked up from her phone, raising a brow. “What?” She glanced the two of them up and down with a smile, clearly appreciating the deep dive on Miri’s part. Fuck! She had either heard him perfectly and was asking him to clarify what the hell he meant, or hadn’t heard him. He decided to believe dearly it was the latter and just roll with that unless challenged. “I said, ‘nice costume.’”

“Oh, thanks. You two, too. Two too-…both of you, also. Can never have too many ass-kicking princesses. And nobody else has pipes like Freddie, but…you’ve probably got the swagger to pull it off, if nothing else.” Hope grinned. Maybe she’d only complimented him because she didn’t want to make the party awkward by teasing him, but he’d take it. He thrust a fist into the air in imitation of the famous photo, got a laugh out of her and decided to exit on a high note.

“See you inside?” He asked while stepping past her, taking Miranda’s hand and helping her up the stairs. Hope nodded, and went back to what looked like a text conversation on her phone. “Yeah, I’ll catch up.” Miri hadn’t said anything, but had evidently sensed there was some history there and tugged Damien in behind her once they stood at the threshold.

Inside, there was a closed door off to the left, a stairway along the left wall, the hallway straight ahead appearing to lead to the kitchen, and the living room where most of the party seemed to be congregating to the right. The house had clearly been condemned for enough years that Damien assumed the power would’ve been shut off for nonpayment and/or not being up to code, but there were lights on here and there, and the sounds of The Monster Mash could be heard faintly playing from somewhere.

Polly was sitting atop the back of sofa, covered in a dingy off-white dust cloth, with her back to the room so she could watch the door, and perked up as they walked in together. “Hey, you made it!” She floated up off of it and drifted forward to greet them, giving them both a group hug. She was draped in a long red poncho-like garment with a black spider web pattern, black leggings and fingerless full arm gloves beneath. Lydia Deetz in her outfit from the Beetlejuice cartoon.

Miranda hugged her back tightly, not seeming to mind that their ghostess with the mostest’s ample breasts were pressing firmly against both her and Damien’s chests as they embraced. “We wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for inviting us.” She held up a bottle of wine(?) she’d been carrying, its label long since dissolved by seawater. “I didn’t wish to arrive empty-handed.”

“Awww yis, shipwreck wine. Thanks, doll.” Polly took it, holding it in the direction of the nearest light source ─ which at this point was the full moon through the open front door ─ to peer through it curiously. “I’ll put it in the kitchen in a minute. That’s where the booze, drugs, food and drugged food live. Everything on the left side of the table is clean, everything on the right side is dosed. Or…was it the other way around?” She put a finger to her chin ponderously.

“Guess we’ll find out one way or another,” Damien chuckled. “Pretty sweet digs, where’d you get the juice? Generator in the basement?”

Polly pulled herself out of her reverie and grinned, winking. “Nahhh, I just possessed the guy working the graveyard shift at the power company. Had him hook it back up for the night and then lock himself in a broom closet. If you’re still around when the party breaks up, remind me to go let him out, okay? The wiring is pretty old, so if you brought a waffle iron or anything don’t plug it in or it’ll probably blow some fuses.”

Damien stared at her for a moment before bellowing, “...why the fuck would I bring a waffle iron to a costume party?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, DAMIEN, I DON’T PRESUME TO KNOW YOUR FUCKIN’ LIFE!” Polly poked him in the chest with a finger, and while they commenced the world’s stupidest argument, Miranda excused herself to meet the rest of the guests.

Standing off to her right, near the window as she entered the living room were Vera and Faith. She recognized Vera immediately as Carmen Sandiego, the bright red trench coat and wide-brimmed hat were hard to mistake. Faith’s identity wasn’t as easy to discern, however. She wore a frayed and faded Victorian tailcoat, pea soup green with lavender cuffs and lapels. White shirtsleeve frills peeked out of the ends of the coat, and she wore black gloves and carried a cane topped with a silver wolf’s head. Her hair was left down, a tophat parked atop her head matching the coat, that sickly green color with a tattered lavender ribbon about its crown that hung down on one side. The final clue was thick black makeup applied in a generous area around her eyes, vaguely circular but with elongated points protruding upward and downward from those pools of inky blackness like Alice Cooper or perhaps The Crow. Miranda still couldn’t place it; perhaps she’d ask later.

Scanning the rest of the room, she saw Scott and Calculester done up as the Cowardly Lion and Tin Man sitting side by side on the sofa, with Vicky as Dorothy straddling Scott’s lap as they made out…nothing new or surprising with those two. Given the three of them, she was willing to bet Vicky had roped someone into being the Scarecrow, but didn’t see them in the immediate vicinity. There was also a ghost standing in the corner, one she couldn’t immediately identify ─ of the sheet with holes sort, and a rather large one at that.

Walking up behind the couch, she reached up to tousle Scott’s hair, grabbing his attention enough to make him break the kiss and tilt his head back to gaze at her upside-down. Vicky noticed her in the process as well, and beamed at her over Scott’s shoulder. “Miranda, you made it! Great costume. And so many accessories. If we play strip UNO later, you might have a serious shot.”

Scott chimed in cheerfully with, “Hey Miri! I’m in Technicolor™!”

“You certainly are, Scott.” Miranda patted his cheek endearingly. “What a charming group ensemble. Though you seem to have misplaced your Scarecrow.”

Vicky gestured vaguely in a direction, with a flippant motion of her hand that Miranda wasn’t able to interpret as having meant ‘outside’ until she spoke. “He’s outside having a moonlight lurk. Seeing if there are any creepy ghost twins out by the tire swing or whatever.”

By that point, Polly and Damien had resolved their dispute re: the waffle iron and were returning to the room while Damien grilled her about her costume. “I mean, I ain’t complaining, Lydia was always a babe and you rock that shit, but what gave you the idea?”

Polly smirked ─ first at the praise, which prompted her to do a little twirl with her arms raised to show off the outfit, revealing in a brief sideways flash between the folds of her dress that aside from the long gloves and stockings, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath ─ and then at the question about why, which got a snicker out of her. “Oh, I managed to get Liam to spill in advance that he was coming as Beetlejuice so I dressed up to match to mess with him. He was so mad, it was great.”

Damien leaned on Polly’s shoulder as he roared with deep belly-laughter at imagining that, their delicate and unique little flower’s outrage at having been unwittingly duped into something as conformist as a group costume. “Oh fuck, that’s rich. Did he leave?”

“Nahhh, he’s around pouting somewhere. I think I saw him go upstairs. I’ll go talk to him if he doesn’t stop sulking and come down in a while.” She enjoyed ruffling his feathers ─ he made it so damned easy, after all ─ but she didn’t want to ruin the evening for him. That train of thought derailed when she heard a familiar schlorping sound from near the door. It was a sound that was, objectively and devoid of context, stomach-churning, and yet everyone who heard it seemed to perk up because they had nothing but positive associations with it. Every head in the room turned towards the door as a tall drink of orange slime oozed his way into the house, and a chorus of voices called out in joyous unison, “BLOBERT!”

The shy, wholesome slime boy smiled a reserved, but happy little smile. He was happy everyone seemed to like him, but that level of adoration could be intimidating. He wasn’t as outgoing as many of his charismatic classmates, and rarely attended big social functions. Polly had said it wouldn’t be too out of control, however ─ that she wasn’t inviting the entire school, just the ‘cool people,’ one of which she considered him to be for some reason and had made him promise to attend. “Oh, wow. Hi, everyone. Thanks for inviting me. I brought cupcakes.” He held up the large, rectangular storage container held in his ill-defined slime nubs. “They slid around a little in the container, so the frosting designs might be kind of messed up, but hopefully they’ll still taste good.”

Polly floated over to take them from him, and pressed a big kiss to his goopy cheek with an audible ‘mwah!’ sound. He visibly uwu’d. “Sweetie, you didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you. I’m gonna put these out.” Armed with cupcakes and that bottle of shipwreck wine, she floated down the hall towards the kitchen.

Calculester had turned his head 180 degrees so he could look back without having to get up, turn around and awkwardly kneel on the couch while leaning over the back of it. “Friend Blobert, you appear to have some partially degraded organic detritus suspended within your mass. Are you operating at peak efficiency? Y/N”

“Huh? Oh…that’s part of my costume.” Blobert glanced down at the third or so of a skeleton floating inside his slimy body, which was in fact a plastic party decoration skeleton that had nobly sacrificed itself for the cause. Blobert wibbled and wobbled a bit before shrinking in height, expanding in girth and developing crisp corners and edges in a cube shape. “I’m supposed to be a-”

“Gelatinous cube! That’s SO COOL!” Vicky practically had stars in her eyes as she geeked out. “Oz is gonna flip when he sees you.”

“I’m glad you like it. I didn’t know if anyone would get it.” Blobert relaxed back into his default upright position. He could pose as a cube for demonstrating the idea of the costume, but it wasn’t exactly mobile. He prodded his nubs together in a vague approximation of twiddling one’s thumbs.

“Oh, totally! You should come by sometime, Oz DMs our ongoing campaign but we’re doing a mini right now ‘cause Zoe wanted to hand at DMing so we said we’d give her an opportunity to try it out in a space without too much judgement, y’know? We’d love to include you if you wanted, and I’m sure Zoe would be willing to write you an in.” Vicky noticed Scott looking guilty, and stroked his rugged jaw reassuringly. He’d been barred from future tabletop endeavors for eating dice, but she didn’t love him any less for it.

“Oh…thanks. I might take you up on that. If you’re sure I wouldn’t be a bother, I mean. Um…” His social interaction limit having been reached, it was time to bail. Not from the party entirely, just to a different room that was less crowded so he wasn’t trying to engage a dozen people at once. “I’m gonna go see if Polly needs a hand.” Off he went, making a sucking sound along the tile as he went but not leaving a slime trail. His consistency when he perambulated himself about was more akin to silly putty than jello, so he didn’t lose mass or make a mess of everything he touched.

Damien took a quick glance around, and noticed Miri wasn’t to be found. Vicky had grabbed Scott by the hair and gone back to tongue-wrestling with him, and Calculester was showing Faith and Vera a cat video on his face. He was about to go looking for her when he heard a hushed ‘Psst!’ from behind him and turned to see her standing near the opposite door, beckoning him with one hand.

He walked over, curiously, noting the door that had appeared closed on first glance when they passed it on the way in was actually only mostly closed. It was hanging open a crack, through which Miranda was peering with wide eyes. “What’s-”

She pressed a shushing finger to his lips, and whispered excitedly to him. “Look.” Leaning in close, he peered through the door and saw what she’d been gawking at. The room was some sort of study or library, he could see some bookshelves built into the walls, and a large desk. Half sitting, half leaning against the edge of said desk was Dimitri, dressed in the dark, flowing garments and wide-brimmed traveler’s hat of Vampire Hunter D. Kneeling in front of him was Joy, dressed as Velma Dinkley, with her orange sweater tugged up over her ample breasts so she could press them together around her vampiric nemesis/paramour’s throbbing cock.

He was gripping the edge of the desk tightly to either side of him and biting his lip to remain quiet as she rocked her body to vigorously titfuck him. He was hung generously enough that even as she jerked off the lower portion of his pale, stiff cock with those soft mounds, she was able to let the swollen head pop wetly in and out of her mouth while gazing seductively up at him. With her back to the door, he had a perfect view of the way that little red skirt rode up her curvy ass, and Damien whispered to himself. “Damn.”

Fuck, that was hot. He jumped a little when he felt Miri’s hand slip down the front of his pants and wrap around his now quickly stiffening cock, and begin stroking. “What are you-”

“Shh…” She stifled a giggle, thumbing the head of his cock and looking mischievously up at him. Her being this bold, and in so open a setting surprised him. He could hardly say it didn’t also turn him on, however. His hand found her hip, on the side where the skirt rode all the way up. Sliding down and around beneath the flap of fabric, he gave her modest ass cheek a possessive squeeze before his fingertips wandered down and forward to begin rubbing against her bare pussy lips. She hadn’t worn panties under her costume? She must’ve been anticipating getting up to some kind of shenanigans tonight, and he was glad to oblige her.

“Mmn…” She stroked him as discretely as she could manage, as though she thought it wouldn’t be painfully obvious what they were engaged in if anyone glanced over in their direction. She stood close enough to him for his body to provide cover to her arm that was reaching in front of him to go down his pants, but his hand up her skirt from behind was a bit less ambiguous.

As they played with each other, they continued to intently watch Joy toying with Dimitri. Judging by his saliva- and precum-glistening, erratically twitching cock, she’d been at it for a while and had him near the limit of his endurance. Damien couldn’t honestly say he hadn’t imagined what Joy’s tits might feel like wrapped around his own cock on more than one occasion, so he could hardly fault the guy. She mostly bobbed her mouth up and down the end of his cock, but pulled back to swirl her tongue around the head every so often.

“Do you want her?” Miranda’s breathy whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His instincts told him to lie, or sidestep having to answer at all. Commenting at length on the attractiveness of another woman, to the one you were with, even when prompted for an opinion rarely led to good things. He went against his instincts, however, because he didn’t take Miranda to be manipulative like that ─ trapping him with a loaded question just so she could get upset about it.

Instead, he answered honestly, in between soft little grunts while rocking his hips to thrust his now throbbing cock into her soft little hand, and curling his fingers up beneath her skirt to sink them slowly into her snug little pussy. “Yeah…I want her.”

She squirmed on the balls of her feet as his rough fingers penetrated her, slowly sinking back down to her heels to accept them deeper while squeezing and rubbing his cock harder, and leaned in to kiss his neck. “Then you should have her, my prince~”

He turned his gaze from the rather attention-demanding peepshow to regard Miranda with his full attention, admiring her with something between affection and awe. They hadn’t explicitly discussed yet if their budding relationship was to be monogamous, and to have her casually throw him a free pass like that, even if she only intended it for tonight at the party…it was incredibly hot, and also a little bit touching. Knowing she had faith in him not to lose interest in her even if she let him have flings with other partners. “Miri…” He was about to say something to that effect when they heard a strained grunt, and both of their attention returned to the obscene goings-on in the study.

Dimitri’s spine arched and he rocked up onto his toes as his cock throbbed and twitched, making it obvious even with Joy’s lips sealed around his tip that he was cumming. She only took the first shot in the mouth, before pulling back to tilt her head back and close her eyes, her mouth open and her tongue hanging out. The remainder of his rather substantial release rained down messily over her cheeks, lips, tongue, the lenses of those thick Velma glasses, and her breasts which she was still working around the lower half of his shaft to milk him of every last drop. She licked her lips and smirked up at him. “Jinkies…”

The two voyeurs’ breath had quickened, and Damien glanced to Miri one more time to see if she’d changed her mind. She just smiled back at him, silently mouthed “Go,” and practically pushed him through the door.

He sidestepped in without opening the door too wide, closing it most of the way again behind him as the the star-crossed lovers gave him a startled double-take. He’d managed to make his entrance look somewhat graceful, at least, not like he was half-stumbling over his own feet from being propelled forward unexpectedly. The painfully snug-looking bulge in his already tight pants left nothing to the imagination…between that, and the visible damp spot where precum had leaked through the fabric, it was rather obvious he’d been watching them and appreciating the show.

“Joy. Dimitri.” He upnodded casually to them both, with a mischievous little grin. “This a private gathering? The door was open, and all…thought you might be looking for some more company.” He made no effort to hide the hungry gaze he was giving Joy. Inviting oneself into a threesome was not the time for subtlety. He put all his cards on the table…if they ended up chasing him from the room, at least it wouldn’t have been because he’d been too timid to just fuckin’ go for it.

Dimitri drew his cloak protectively around Joy and himself as an afterthought, well too late to keep him from seeing anything. His lips drew back in a snarl, exposing his fangs. “You dare impose-”

The murderous blood-red glow that had just begun to creep into the whites of his eyes faded just as quickly as Joy patted his thigh and stood up. “It’s okay, babe. I want him to stay.” The party atmosphere had her feeling a little less inhibited than usual. If half the rumors about the Coven’s sexual exploits with the forces of darkness they constantly confronted were to be believed, she was already plenty adventurous…if usually a tad more discrete about it. “Let’s see if he’s all talk, or if he can make me cum as hard as you can.”

Stepping to the side, she bent forward over the desk, facing forward to hide the coy little smirk tugging at her lips. She could feel the sudden wave of jealousy radiating off of her darkling Dimitri, at the mere insinuation that anyone else could please her as he could. She felt fairly confident Damien would rise to the bait as well, and that by playfully pitting them against each other she could coax the best possible performance from both of them.

Her breasts, still dripping with Dimitri’s seed, had barely pressed against the cool surface of the wooden desktop before she felt Damien looming behind her and flipping up her skirt over her ass, making her gasp at the suddenness and urgency of his movement across the room. Goodness, he was eager to have her. She jumped again as she felt his stiff cock jab between her voluptuous thighs, the topside of his shaft grinding against her pussy through her soaked panties as he slowly, deliberately rocked his hips. She hadn’t gotten a chance to get a good look at him, but he felt almost as large as her Dimitri ─ no small feat ─ while also kicking off considerably more body heat. She supposed that made sense, for a fire demon to be warmer than a vampire.

He didn’t even yank her panties down, just hauled them to one side, heedless of if he stretched the fabric in ways that would prevent them from ever returning to their proper shape as he stuffed that engorged red demon cock into her with a roughness he felt certain she could handle. “AAAHHhhhmff-!!” She was a moment too late clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry, her eyes squeezing shut as her legs trembled beneath her.

“Miranda, what was that?” Outside the door to the study, Vera was approaching Miri to investigate the noise. Miranda covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she let out a loud yawn, playing it off as the source of the sound and also using it to cover the click of her pulling the door closed fully.

“AAaahhh-…forgive me, some dastardly enemy of Daddy’s secreted a pea beneath my mattress last night, and I slept not a wink. Perhaps I shall adjourn to an upstairs bedroom and nap for a short while, to refresh myself before the festivities commence in ‘full swing’, as they say.”

Vera gave her a look. It was a subtle one, but one she’d had enough practice with to convey meaningfully: that of ‘I don’t believe you, but I don’t really care enough to investigate further.’ She just shrugged and gave her a pat on the forearm. “Suit yourself. I’m going to step out back and see if anything’s left of the garden.”

Miranda turned and ascended the stairs, while Vera nodded in passing on her way out to Hope, who was on her way back inside.

Chapter Text

Vera followed the side of the house around to the back, towards the garden. She’d done a little research on the house after receiving the party invitation, to see if it might make a worthwhile investment she could snatch up on the cheap, and had discovered a few archived photos from back in the day. Grainy and sepia toned, they showed off the exterior from a few angles, including the back where there had been a stunning flower garden. All the vegetation which hadn’t been attended to in decades would be long since gone, of course, but there had been a fountain and some statuary that might yet remain.

She wasn’t disappointed. The fountain, angelic statues and three of the four stone benches remained intact, with the fourth having been broken in half in the middle in a manner that looked too deliberate to be attributed to the ravages to time and weather ─ more likely vandalous hoodlums with a sledgehammer. The rotting wooden frames of several once-floral archways even yet stood. It all looked very serene and creepy beneath the light of the full moon.

Oz, the wayward scarecrow absent from Vicky’s group costume who were otherwise all within the house, stood statue-still near the long dry fountain with his head tilted back to gaze up at the night sky. Had Vera not seen those old photos and recognized the layout of the stonework enough to spot him as being out of place, she might have mistaken him for part of the landscape until she got closer. Seeing how engrossed in his stargazing and how painfully unaware of his surroundings he was, her predatory instincts kicked in. She couldn’t not mess with him.

Slowing her approach and walking with heel-toe strides that eased her weight down so no thumping footfalls would give her away, she crept up behind him while avoiding any half-dead vegetation that looked dry enough to crunch when stepped on. Reaching out with a fingertip, she grazed at the very ends of a few strands of straw sticking out of his collar, flicking them back and forth until he felt the light jostling, so faint that he may have assumed a flying insect had alighted itself upon one of them.

When he turned his head to investigate, she pounced. She leaned in and stole a quick, but firm kiss over the presently featureless lower half of his face, grasping the broad brim of her hat and flipping it up in the front so it didn’t collide awkwardly with his. Oz frantically turned the rest of his body towards her while also trying to backpedal, managed to trip over his own feet in the process and topple over the lip of the fountain’s basin. Her hands shot out to grab his forearm and catch him in time to keep him from going completely upside-down and hitting his head, forcibly plopping his butt down onto the edge in a seated position. His upper body was leaned so far backwards that it was almost parallel to the ground, and his hat had fallen off into the fountain, but she slowly pulled him upright into a more stable position while grinning down at him.

“Vera?” His cheeks were flush with the squiggly white lines that constituted blushing for him, and one of his phobias stood upright off of his shoulder, poking through a hole in the ragged scarecrow-shirt making an :O face at her. He was caught somewhere between outrage over the kiss and gratitude for keeping him from injury, with deeply ingrained bashfulness all throughout. After a bit of stammering with no sound emerging, he finally settled on, “What was that?”

She eased herself down sidesaddle across his lap, draping one arm around the back of his neck to steady herself while bringing her other hand up to caress his cheek with a fingertip. “I’m the world’s greatest master thief, you silly boy. It was an opportunity to steal a kiss, how could I pass it by? I have my professional reputation to consider.”

Oz didn’t know what to do with his hands, and left them parked at his sides with his palms flat against the cool granite, and sat stiffly while Vera toyed with him, paralyzed by uncertainty. He was attracted to her, of course…but he didn’t know if she was expressing a genuine interest in him, or just having some fun at his expense. She had flirted with him in passing once or twice at school, but only when she wanted something from him. “I, ah, think Lupin III might contest you for that title.”

Vera laughed as she brushed off her hat, tossing it into the fountain to cover his. Nothing worryingly symbolic there. She laid her head over his shoulder, and he could feel the heads of her snakes slithering against his chest. “Please. As if that nepotic poseur were fit to lick Carmen Sandiego’s boots. Though I’m sure the easily-distracted little pervert would relish the opportunity. She stole the Mason-Dixon line. That’s theft of an abstract concept.”

She seemed to be settling in rather intimately, and he cautiously lifted his hands to slide his arms around her waist, holding her close. So far, so good. No retaliatory slap, bite or venom spit for his presuming to get fresh with her. “I guess.” He shivered as she kissed the side of his neck, and gave her waist a little squeeze. As she sat astride his lap, she could feel his involuntarily stiffening bulge beneath her thigh. “Vera…what are we doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m seducing you.” She said it so matter-of-factly, like there was nothing odd about it and taking for granted that it would happen. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Frankly, you’re cute, I’m curious, and I came to this party with the intention of having sex tonight. Not necessarily with you, but you’re in the right place at the right time.” She shifted her leg back and forth to rub the underside of her thigh encouragingly against that stiffening cock, both to entice him and in attempt to gauge his size.

He took a moment to digest that. It felt…cheap. But at the same time, he had to give her credit for being so forthright about it. He’d had people misrepresent themselves and lead him on before, acting like they wanted a real relationship when they were only interested in a fling. It always hurt. Vera being up-front about basically wanting to use him for sex was rather shallow, but at least it was honest and allowed him to set reasonable expectations. “So…this doesn’t mean anything?”

She was kissing her way towards his adam’s apple when she picked up on the slight disappointment in his voice, and lifted her head to regard him with a fuller attention. Most men she approached this way when she had purely physical needs to sate seemed more than happy to be used as gigolos and then given their walking papers, to have a wild night of passion and not have looming thoughts of how to avoid commitment the next morning on the back burner all the while. Oz seemed somewhat less thrilled at the prospect, which raised her curiosity and her interest. “Do you need it to mean something?”

He took her hand, pressing it to his chest and laid his hand over it. “Maybe not ‘need’, but…’want’, definitely. If the answer is ‘no’, I can live with it. I’ll be honest and say I’d much prefer at least a ‘maybe’.” His eyes met hers, and she felt herself grow flush. Oh, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all!

She momentarily ceased the teasing friction of her leg, and slid both arms around his neck to touch her forehead gently to his. He didn’t even seem bothered by her snakes coiling against the sides of his head as she lingered. She’d been caught entirely off-guard by his-…what even was this? Not a confession of feelings, exactly, but an expression for a desire of intimacy beyond merely physical. Most people trying to win her affection sought to impress her via more traditional means, such as wealth and status or physical prowess, and were summarily crushed under the heel of her rather exacting standards. She’d never before had to contend with a soft-spoken, heartfelt plea for nothing more than a chance to get to know her better, and didn’t have a defense readily prepared accordingly.

“Well…fine, then. Maybe.” She felt his hand settle over her hip, and smiled. “If I’m satisfied with this little test drive, I’ll take you out sometime. On an actual date. How does that sound?” She booped the tip of his nose with a fingertip, and he blushed again, but nodded enthusiastically.

“I’d like that. I’ll draft up some terms when I get home and send them by your office for you to review,” he teased. Or did he? If it was just an off-the-cuff joke about her well-known litigiousness, she would’ve found it cute, but now she was intrigued by the possibility that he was serious. What would his terms for a date look like? How did he get her excitedly thinking about paperwork while she was out here trying to get some dick?!

She slid off of his lap to remount him facing forwards this time, straddling him rather than sitting sideways, and leaned in to kiss him again to shut him up before they got further off-topic. Not that he even had a mouth to shut up…or so she thought, until she felt lips form beneath her own from the previously featureless lower portion of his face, and part to assertively probe his tongue ─ or reasonable shadow-mass facsimile thereof ─ forward into her mouth. “Mnph-?”

As she draped her arms over his shoulders, his hands slid up between them to begin deftly unbuttoning and unbelting her trench coat, letting it fall open to reveal a rather stunning red dress she wore beneath. Form-fitting, strapless, backless, slit high up on one side. From the matching black leather gloves and boots, he would’ve guessed she was wearing some kind of catsuit under the coat. As she reached behind her neck to unknot the orange scarf that had been protruding out from her open collar, she dropped it to the side to reveal a string of pearls around the base of her neck. He let out an impressed little whistle as he looked her up and down. “Wow.”

“Mhm…all her distinctive articles of clothing are outerwear she can easily shed and then just blend in at a fancy party. Let Lupin try that in one of his mismatched suits,” she said smugly. Oz felt compelled to mention that Lupin was also a master of disguise, but as she reached to pull up the bottom of his baggy green sack cloth shirt so she could tug down his pants, opted to let it go. Might not be the ideal timing to escalate an argument over who was the superior cartoon thief.

Beneath the crudely patched brown pants, he wore a pair of snug navy blue boxerbriefs ─ not costume-appropriate, but she could hardly blame him. The rustic fabric of the scarecrow clothes would’ve likely been rather unpleasant to intimate areas without a buffer. She reached in to rub her palm firmly against that clearly defined bulge, curling her fingers lightly around it. He rocked his hips gently to press more firmly against her, and she could feel his stiff cock twitching eagerly for her. It felt about average in size, nothing shockingly large or disappointingly small. She reminded herself that she didn’t know the full extent of the limits of his peculiar physiology, however ─ no one really seemed to ─ and determined to withhold judgement until afterwards.

She tugged down the elastic waistband and tucked it securely beneath his balls, and wrapped a leather-gloved hand around his now exposed sleek, jet-black cock. She thumbed the groove along the underside of the head curiously, until a bead of precum oozed forth from the slit. It appeared to be about humanoid-normal, clear and slick as she smeared it around with delicious wet friction that made the slender lad pinned beneath her squirm, running his hands up the backs of her thighs and squeezing appreciatively.

Hiking up her dress around her hips, she revealed that she wore nothing beneath. Well, she had said she’d come to this party intent on getting laid. Scooting closer to him so her breasts pressed against his chest, she hovered her soft, bare pussy lips over his cockhead. She was already moist damp slightly wet by this point, but she prolonged the teasing, just rubbing those lips back and forth along his precum-slickened cockhead until she was dripping for him. Neither of them said anything, they just gazed into each other’s eyes, her quickening breath and the faint, muffled music from inside the house being the only sounds.

Finally, she began to ease herself down onto him, letting out a soft, pleasured sigh as he slid into her. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and as she sank gradually down to the base of his shaft she revised her choice of words regarding his size from ‘average’ to ‘just right’. Just girthy enough to give her a pleasant sensation of fullness without any real uncomfortable or painful stretching. She wriggled her hips a little, grinding down around him before raising herself and sliding back down again. On her second stroke, however, she gasped sharply, her eyes going wide. She’d felt him change inside of her, the surface of his cock having developed rows of raised, rounded little studs that provided an intensely stimulating texture.

She shot him a look, not entirely pleased he’d surprised her with no warning in spite of how good it felt. Even with his temporary mouth having sunken back into his face, she could tell he was smiling. She shouldn’t have been as surprised as she had been ─ if he could shapeshift his face, why not other parts of his anatomy? Presumably, then, he also could’ve been hung like a horse if he wished, but didn’t feel the need to artificially augment himself, to show off. He was the living embodiment of ‘it’s not the size, it’s how you use it’.

Just as she was starting to get used to the sensation of those studs working their magic on her tight inner walls, she cried out again as she sank down to find him now ribbed rather than studded. “Ahn-!” While she was ostensibly in control of this encounter, both in having initiated it and being the one on top setting the pace, Oz’s ability to change what sensations she was experiencing on the fly, as well as the occasional, unpredictable upwards thrust from him kept her on her toes. She gripped his shoulders firmly now, and began to slow her pace. She’d been building towards steadily and rigorously bouncing herself on his dick, but if he kept throwing curveballs at her like that she was quickly going to become overstimulated, so she took the hint and eased back a bit. Slow and sensual wasn’t what she was used to, but it appeared to be what he wanted and she was quickly deciding she could live with that.

His hands, leisurely exploring her perfectly sculpted ass cheeks and the backs of her thighs beneath her dress, exhibited the same trait. As he trailed a fingertip up the back of her thigh, it might be slightly coarse like a very fine-grained sandpaper, sending a shiver up her spine, only for his hands to be soft as velvet on their way back down. She was panting now as she rose and fell in slow, steady motions…dragging her tight, hot, dripping wet pussy up and down the length and girth of that increasingly unpredictable endowment. The overall shape of his shaft had developed a slight upward curve, causing the plump head to grind with extra force against a particularly sensitive hot spot of hers each time she crested the halfway point or so. She gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, and let out a shaky little gasp. “Oh, right there~”

He wasn’t particularly vocal ─ but then, he normally communicated without a mouth. He didn’t speak so much by putting sound waves out into the air as some sort of targeted telepathy, she assumed. He didn’t breathe, so there was no rapid breathing on his part, no little grunts or gasps to hint at his pleasure. He only shared the thought he clearly articulated and wished to communicate, and at the moment he was much more involved with feeling than talking. Taking the note that the slight curvature was a favorite of hers, he kept it a constant even as he kept cycling through other changes ─ a ridged underside, a slight outward bow so that his shaft was slightly thicker towards the middle or at the base, and so on.

It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, it was almost tantric. She utterly lost track of time, of their surroundings, of anything but the sensual rhythm of their bodies moving together. She could feel herself getting close, but Oz still had one more trick up his sleeve. Her eyes snapped open when she realized he had said something, but her mind had been so unfocused it had come in like white noise. She registered that something was said, but couldn’t make out the words. “What-…?”

He raised a hand from her hip to cup her cheek, gazing deeply and intently into her eyes and repeated himself in a soft voice. “Do you trust me?” The question threw her for a loop. The list of people she trusted was very short indeed. Had she been entirely in her right frame of mind, with all of her faculties present, she might have tapdanced around the question. In that moment of near-orgasmic bliss, however, she did something that she did not often do: she went with her gut. Not cold, ruthless logic and carefully (and often illegally) gathered evidence ─ she just searched her heart, and found that in that moment she did trust Oz, at least insofar as whatever the question had likely pertained to when he asked it, most likely being something sexual. She trusted him not to harm her. She held his gaze, and nodded firmly.

The next moment, as Oz psychically shared with her a controlled dose of the fear of which he was the embodiment, her senses all cranked to 11. She gasped, nearly a scream. Her eyes wide, she felt her heart hammering in her chest at a worryingly fast rate and she shot a frantic glance over either shoulder. He spoke in a soothing, reassuring voice while stroking her cheek. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” Logically, she knew she was okay, nothing about the situation had changed. Nevertheless, she felt a sudden, onset of fear, a primal danger-sense triggering her fight-or-flight response ─ and the accompanying surge of adrenaline that entailed. It had been many years since anything had truly frightened her, and she had never experienced an orgasm while in the grip of panic before. It was, to put it mildly, powerful. She screamed, buried her face in Oz’s neck, her spine arched tightly, her legs quaking as her pussy spasmed violently and gushed around Oz’s cock.

So all-consuming was her own experience that she only faintly registered him arching against her in return, the twitching and swelling of him inside her as he came as well. She became so lightheaded she saw stars, and realized she hadn’t been breathing for the past few seconds. She took in a deep breath and exhaled it as a shuddering almost-sob. His hands stroked comfortingly up and down her bare back, and he murmured softly to her. “Shhh…you’re okay.” She held onto him tightly, hating to feel vulnerable but needing very much in that moment to be held. There was nobody around to judge her for it, which let her handle it a bit better. As her heartbeat began to normalize and her breathing steadied, she leaned up to kiss Oz again, deeply…finding that he once more had lips to lock with, she lifted a hand to cup the back of his head as they kissed, burying her fingers in the vaguely hair-shaped shadow-mass.

She rested her forehead against his once they broke the kiss, her eyes still closed. “That was…amazing,” she admitted. She wasn’t normally so liberal with her praise, but she was still too shaken to do anything but blurt out the truth.

“I’m glad,” Oz murmured while still stroking his fingertips up and down her spine. Nothing cocky about it, not a sentiment of ‘yeah, I know you liked that’, just genuine happiness that she’d enjoyed herself. Ugh, damn him. If only he’d give her something to be offended by, she could storm off seething. Storming off, she was great at. It was familiar, and easier than this touchy-feely, showing vulnerability and forming genuine connections bullshit.

She finally sat up straighter, and began to ease herself off of him. He’d done away with all of the impromptu form changes as well as having begun to soften, making for a painless dismount. “Nn-…I suppose we should get back to it, then, before we’re missed.” She stood and smoothed down her dress, concealing his seed trickling down her thighs, before crouching to reclaim her coat and slide her arms through the sleeves, tugging on the lapels to snug it over her shoulders.

Oz tucked himself away and leaned back into the fountain to collect their hats, settling his upon his head and offering hers out to her. “We can, but everyone’s probably occupied enough that they’re not going to come looking for us any time soon, though. It’s a Polly party. We could sit out here a little while longer, if you’d like. Or pull an Irish goodbye.”

She grinned at the notion of just bouncing without saying a word to anyone, which she almost certainly would’ve done had she not driven Val here. So she just settled down on the ledge beside Oz, leaned against him and laid his head over her shoulder, her hat in her lap. “I can’t, I’m my sister’s ride. Let’s just stay out here for a little while before we go in and check on people.”

He nodded, and slid an arm around her waist. They didn’t say anything as they gazed up at the moon together, and the stars that were faintly visible this far outside the city, away from the light pollution. They didn’t need to.

Chapter Text

Miranda ascended the stairs, letting her hand glide along the railing. She was more intent on snooping than resting, mildly curious about the spooky old house but more than anything secretly hoping to find someone else to peek in on. She was almost disappointed by how short the hunt turned out to be; as soon as she set foot at the top of the stairs she could hear the distinct sound of distressed bedsprings creaking from the end of the hallway.

She approached slowly, glancing into other rooms she passed and finding them unlit and unpopulated, not caring to stop and peer into the darkness to attempt to discern the purpose of each room. As she grew nearer to the source of the sounds, she could hear a steady thumping, as well as some strained cries of a soft but distinctly male voice that almost sounded more pained than pleasured. The door to the room in question had been left flung wide open, so she kept close to the wall and peeked just around the doorframe, covering her mouth with a hand at what she saw.

Liam was on his back on the bed, wearing the recognizable shabby striped suit of Beetlejuice just as Polly had mentioned ─ or at least, the upper portion thereof. The pants were cast aside in a crumpled pile on the floor. He was folded practically in half, with his legs spread and his heels pointing at the ceiling.

Sort of straddling and crouching over him with her feet planted firmly to either side was Dahlia in all her muscled glory. She was dressed in an impressively accurate Wonder Woman outfit, most of which was actual armor. The skirted portion somewhat obscured Miranda’s view of the actual penetration taking place, but the context clues of her hips crashing down upon the slender vampire beneath her, and the copious, mingled sexual fluids running down the backs of Liam’s thighs and staining the bed sheet beneath his flat little ass were more than enough for Miranda to piece together that they were, in fact, having sex.

She had even brought a golden lasso, though it lacked the enchanted golden glow of the real article. Dahlia’s was also wrapped around Liam’s throat and drawn playfully taut as she roughly rode him, far from its intended purpose of revealing truth. Liam’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face twisted into an expression of discomfort. He cracked them open to gaze up at her as he spoke, his voice a strained, pleading whimper. “P-Please, Dahlia! I, I can’t-!”

She gaze a tug of the lasso with one hand, while leaning forward over him further so that she was now all but sitting on the backs of his thighs and reaching down to press a fingertip to his lips. “Hush, my sweet. Just-…nnng, one more time and then I’ll let you rest~”

He did momentarily hush while she slowed the motion of her hips to reassure him, but broke right back out into those keening whines as she began to slam herself down onto his torturously overstimulated and sensitive cock. His voice cracked in the midst of his next utterly ineffective protestation. “That’s what you said the last three times! AHHhh-…!”

Miranda’s eyes were wide and unblinking, and she slowly backed away from the doorway before they noticed her, her heart fluttering erratically in her chest. Was Liam alright? He must have been, surely. She had seen him turn to mist before her eyes to escape danger in the past. Had he been truly unwilling to let the enormous, gloriously powerful, sexy blue demoness continue utterly dominating him, surely he would’ve been able to extricate himself…

…Miranda surprised herself by suddenly noticing she had a hand beneath her skirt, her dainty fingertips rubbing her dripping wet pussy lips. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath through her nose so as not to be heard. Even without being in position to peep on them anymore, she could still vividly picture them, as well as hear the lewd sounds of their frantic coupling.

If she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have minded being in Liam’s place. She had always found Dahlia’s imposing stature and commanding presence to be quite…stimulating. This wouldn’t even be the first time she’d touched herself while thinking about her. Prior to her consummating her relationship with Damien, she had dropped hints around Dahlia that she might like to be wooed on more than one occasion, but the subtle signals of her courtly manners appeared to have gone unnoticed by the brazen demoness.

That chance had passed now. Whatever she and Damien decided in terms of general guidelines for other sexual and/or romantic partners as they move forward together, she felt that his lifelong archnemesis was to be a rather hard and specific ‘no’. She wouldn’t allow herself to daydream extensively or lose sleep over what might or might not have been, under different circumstances, but she could hardly be held at fault for a little self-indulgent masturbatory mental imagery (and eavesdropping).

It took all of her restraint not to scream as she felt a pair of soft, ample, bare breasts press against her back, and a pair of hands trail seductively down her hips. Turning slowly, she looked up and down and marveled at Amira. Had there been some sort of contest at the party for best costume, the clear winner was standing before her. She didn’t have enough exposure to video games to recognize her specifically as a Desire Demon from Dragon Age, but the craftsmanship and attention to detail in her costume was nothing short of stunning.

Black and gold slips of silk were sort of criss-crossed over her, secured just above her hips to just barely conceal her modesty in front and back while leaving the outsides of her thighs exposed from hips halfway down to her knees. She wore white half-sleeves that started at her elbows and flared out towards the ends to hang loosely about her wrists. She was entirely nude from the waist up, save for a gold collar about the base of her neck and a delicate and elaborate rigging of fine chains hanging therefrom, draped over her shoulders and dangling down to support two round golden pieces that barely covered her dusky nipples, connected together across her chest by a single strand of chain and themselves each supporting three small, dangling chains with little jingling charms at the ends.

Sprouting forth from her eyebrows, or seamlessly affixed thereupon using some invisible means of support that held them secure without their weight tugging painfully at the skin of Amira’s brows and forehead, were a pair of purplish-black ram-like horns that jutted further outward to the sides than the width of her shoulders before elegantly curving down, forward and back around upwards. She had glossy lavender lips and smokey purple makeup around her eyes, which were themselves inky black pools, faintly reflective but lacking any color of their own. Even the flames perpetually dancing atop her head had been made to burn purple rather than orange.

“Amira? My goodness, you look-” Amira pressed a finger to her lips, and Miranda felt her cheeks grow warm. She also noticed for the first time the long black fingernails that came to deadly points. The back of one trailed across her pursed lips as Amira slid it downwards, maintaining eye contact as she lowered herself to her knees. The black abyss of those eyes was easy to lose herself in. The horns provided a slight obstacle, but by lifting one of Miranda’s legs and draping it over her shoulder ─ conveniently keeping her skirt out of the way in the process ─ and tilting her head back slightly, Amira was able to bring her outstretched tongue to those dripping pink lips.

“Ahhh~” Miranda cooed, her eyelids fluttering closed as the seductive djinn, in the guise of an even more seductive Desire Demon, began to kiss and teasingly, lightly lick at those delicate, honeyed folds. It was well-known around school that Amira preferred the company of women, and it showed in the expertise she quickly began to demonstrate putting her mouth to work between the flustered princess’s thighs. Having to consciously remind herself that Amira had no hair to bury her fingers in, and not to reach down into the flames, she instead braced herself against the wall with one hand while putting her other to use gently kneading one of her own breasts, rubbing a fingertip over the nipple through the thin fabric of her top.

She whimpered as the tip of Amira’s tongue flicked up and down over her clit before delving into her, curling upward to lap at her in a come-hither motion. All the while, she could still hear Liam’s frantic cries continuing to rise in pitch as Dahlia mercilessly rode him towards his…at least fourth orgasm since the party kicked off, based on his earlier pleas for mercy. She reached a hand down, careful to avoid the flames and only wrap her fingers around the back of Amira’s neck. Unbeknownst to her, she needn’t have been all that careful. Amira’s flames were magical in nature and didn’t actually burn all that hot. Putting her hand in them may have been uncomfortably warm, but wouldn’t have seared her flesh. Amira didn’t want to encourage people coming up to her and playing with her head, however, and rarely explained this.

Amira mistook Liam’s high-pitched cries as being female in origin, and held a very different mental image of what must have been transpiring in the room at the end of the hall as she half-listened. Her attention was, however, mostly held by the lovely princess between whose thighs she was occupied. She grazed the tips of her glued-on claws up Miranda’s smooth, pale pink thigh while her tongue made a slow, swirling pass through those honeyed folds, coaxing a shiver out of her. Amira was in her comfort zone. She drew her mouth back long enough to place her hands on Miranda’s hips and turn her a bit, nudging her so that her back was against the wall for support. She’d been making shy, flustered girls cum for enough years now to know the proper precautions to take. ‘Fall on top of me and sprain my neck once, shame on you. Fall on top of me and sprain my neck four or more times, shame on me.’ With her upper back now firmly planted against the wall, Amira draped both her thighs over Amira’s mostly-bare shoulders and flashed a sheepish, blushing grin down at her. Amira smirked and leaned back in, tongue outstretched to pick up eagerly where she’d left off.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the bedroom, Liam’s otherwise-limp arms were gripping the sheets over his head with balled fists. His eyes, when not squeezed shut, were rolling back. His slender little twinkish chest rose and fell rapidly ─ he was undead and didn’t technically need to breathe, of course, but his lungs were still there when he wished to make use of them, aiding in such things as speech, sighs of weary resignation directed at a lack of taste in others, or rapid and shallow breathing falling just shy of hyperventilating to help him focus on something other than his inflamed cock being ridden raw by Dahlia’s amazingly tight pussy. The statuesque blue warrior did 4,200 kegels a day as part of her rigorous exercise regimen.

Dahlia didn’t perspire so much as glow from the intense sexual workout she was putting Liam through, riding him to the point of utter exhaustion as though she were breaking in a wild horse. Given that she frequently trained and fought surrounded by the fires of Hell, that might not have been surprising. Based upon his comment regarding the ‘last three times,’ Miranda had guessed this to be their fourth coupling of the evening when it was in fact the sixth ─ her sexy little purple gummy bear had lasted twice before he began to protest, and she was thoroughly impressed. She assurd herself that their children would be warrior poets.

She could sense he was nearing the limits even of undeath, however, and reached down to grasp him by the jaw, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her demonic red eyes glinted with desire and animal mating lust, and even through the slight grimace of pain beset upon his pretty features she could see how captivated he was as she held him in her empassioned thrall. He groaned as she began to clench intentionally around him each time she slammed down around the base of his shaft, desperately milking him for one final release. “Cum for me, my beloved. Fill me with your seed!”

Hardly in a position to resist such a command, his spine arched with all the remaining strength left in his body, his hips bucking and trembling wildly as he came inside her. His mouth hung open, but no sound came out, either because he was entirely out of energy and/or air or because she had pulled her lasso tighter around his neck than she intended as she shuddered and ground her hips down against him while she came in tandem with him.

He must have lost consciousness for a moment, or at least had his awareness waver out temporarily, because he had no memory of her dismounting him but was suddenly aware of her laying beside him. She had noticed how tightly the rope was biting into his neck and worked a finger beneath the knot to loosen it for him, and was now sliding her arms around him ─ one beneath his waist, one draped over him and cupping the back of his head to pull him close and lay his head over her ample chest. He winced at the tender ring of bruises and rope-burn encircling the base of his neck when he tentatively ran his fingertips over it. His vampiric healing would see it gone by morning, but that was little consolation in the moment.

Dahlia kissed the top of his head, murring and draping a leg intimately over him. She nuzzled her nose into his dark, silky hair and drank in the scent of his fragrant shampoo, some delicate floral concoction she felt fit him very well. “You were magnificent, pet.”

Had there been any blood in Liam’s head at that moment, he certainly would have blushed. Though he so often acted aloof, he also craved approval, and such open and genuine praise was something to which he was unaccustomed. That was partially what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Dahlia had shown interest in him before, which was in equal measures flattering and intimidating, but had previously always seemed too reserved to act on it and so nothing had come of it.

Tonight, however, when she found him up here sulking about his costume, she had summoned the courage she was known for in battle and taken it upon herself to take charge of the situation. What had begun as her awkwardly attempting to console him had become an intense declaration of her feelings…most of all, her intense and immediate desire to ravish him until he could no longer withstand it. When she had grabbed him by the sides of his face and pulled him in to kiss him deeply and urgently, he had utterly relented and let her sprawl him out upon the bed from there.

His entire body was sore, but he felt utterly safe and wanted in her strong arms. He laid his head more firmly over her breast and murmured something unitelligible as he settled in and looked about to drift off into a slumber from which the end of the world would scarcely wake him. She squeezed him against her and smiled as she watched him, whispering softly to him. “Rest, my love. I will watch over you. Any who would disturb us will feel the sting of my blade…” A somewhat martial lullaby, but for the players at hand it sufficed.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Out in the hallway, Miranda had her eyes closed and her head rolled back against the wall, one palm pressed against it beside her for dear life and her other hand raised so she could bite the first knuckle of her index finger to stifle her cries as she hovered at the brink of climax.

Amira was really feeling in-character as a Desire Demon. Expert costuming aside, she had a long history of tempting girls away from their boyfriends for a little lesbian experimentation and subsequently pleasuring them better than they ever had been before. She had no way of knowing, of course, that Miranda’s relationship with Damien was a tenuously open one, at least for the night. She just assumed she was leading Miranda astray because it was part of the fantasy for her, and Miranda was none the wiser to correct her. The clawlike fingernails of her costume limited her available arsenal somewhat, but judging by how worked up Miranda was getting, she seemed to be getting by just fine using only her mouth.

Had she the full use of her fingers, she might have pulled back to taunt and entire Miranda with a little dirty talk while fingering her to keep her on the edge, but as it stood any pause to speak would bring the merprincess’s stimulation to a dead halt. She thus limited herself to an inner monologue of what she might have said. ‘That’s it,’ she thought, ‘cum for me, princess. Cum harder for me than you ever have for him~’ Sealing her lips around Miranda, she applied a gently suction while vehemently working her tongue over and around the breathless royal’s clit.

Miranda screamed as she came, her feet that were only barely touching the floor by the tips of her toes curling and lifting to cross her ankles over Amira’s back. Amira shifted her hands beneath Miranda’s thighs to more fully support her weight, fairly evenly divided between her shoulders and the wall behind Miranda. She humped shamelessly against Amira’s face as her intense orgasm racked her petit frame, making her tingle from her fingertips to her toes.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the study downstairs, Joy’s scream was mostly muffled by Damien’s rough hand clamped across her mouth while Dimitri nursed at the oozing bite wound on the side of her pale neck. She stood with one foot planted and the other hooked around Damien’s waist while the demonic stud and her longtime on-again/off-again vampire nemesis/bootycall had their large cocks buried balls-deep in her pussy and ass, respectively, and were flooding her with their cum. She had correctly predicted that by playing on their machismo bullshit and near-certain need to one-up each other in their demonstrations of sexual prowess, she could get them both to give it to her as hard as they could manage. In fact, her plan had worked almost too well ─ she doubted she’d be able to walk unassisted tomorrow. But it had been so, so worth it~ This encounter would be a memory she’d be able to vividly recall while pleasuring herself for years to come, she had no doubt.

Even from upstairs and through the closed door, they caught the tail end of Miranda’s scream and all glanced upward briefly. After a few moments of heavy panting, she grinned and chuckled while leaning back against Dimitri. “Mmm…sounds like we’re not the only ones making a night of it.” It was a Polly party, after all.

Damien was fairly certain he recognized the special shrillness of that pleasured cry, and felt a pang of jealousy. He immediately knew it to be unreasonable, expecting a free pass for himself and expecting her not to find any amusement for herself, but knowing logically that a feeling was irrational didn’t usually make it any less keenly felt. “…yeah, sounds like it.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Miranda slumped against the wall, giving an unfocused and glassy-eyed stare at the ceiling for a moment before she glanced down to see Amira directing a self-satisfied smirk up to her, the smooth, dark skin of her chin glistening with Miranda’s fluids. She reached down to caress Amira’s cheek while sliding one leg off her shoulder to plant her foot, then the other.

Amira wasted no time in rising to her feet, pinning her to the wall by her hips and kissing her deeply and hungrily. Miranda let out a surprised little ‘mmph’ at the suddenness of it, but slid her arms around the djinn’s neck and tilted her head into the kiss, tasting herself on Amira’s tongue as it plunged assertively into her mouth. She looked a little dazed again when Amira finally withdrew, her head swimming with lust.

It took her a moment to notice that Amira was guiding her to her knees with her back to the wall, blinking up at her uncertainly. “What are you-?”

“It’s your turn, princess,” Amira murmured while lifting aside the two sheet slips of silk to reveal her own dripping wet pussy, reaching down to run her fingertips through Miranda’s hair and behind one ear.

Miranda bit her lip in nervous excitement. Yes, she supposed it was only proper that she return the favor, so to speak. But-… “…I’ve never done this before,” she admitted quietly, glancing up at Amira to see if she looked disappointed.

Far from it, the hunger in Amira’s expression only grew at the prospect of coaching Miranda through her first time. “Don’t worry, sweetness. I’ll guide you…”

Chapter Text

Scott was panting ─ and had he not been sitting on a very deep couch, his tail would have been swishing wildly ─ as Vicky, still straddling his lap, played with his massive cock in both of her dainty hands, squeezing firmly as she jerked it up and down, its entire length slick and glistening with his precum. He let out an impatient, very canine whine, bucking his hips eagerly to thrust into her hands.

She felt bad making him wait, but she had to get him as lubed up as she could. It was hard to hide her status as something of a size queen when she was one of the most petit girls in the school dating the absolute biggest guy. Scott was a sweetheart, so kind and earnest and affectionate, she probably would’ve fallen in love with him even if he’d been a little more average in height and build…the fact that he was big and strong enough to pick her up easily with one hand and hung like a beast was just icing on the cake.

Lifting her dress, she scooted closer and ground her wet, eager pussy against the underside of his shaft near the base while still vigorously stroking the upper half with both hands. She grinned wickedly up at him, giggling a bit. “Does doggy wanna bury his bone?”

Scott’s horny whining ceased long enough for him to look confused. “I thought I was a lion.”

Vicky rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. More often than not, she tended to find his stupidity endearing. Letting the joke die on the table, she lifted her hips and lined herself up with that plump, swollen cockhead. She bit her lip as she slowly began to impale herself, groaning at the wonderful sense of fullness that always bordered on pain. “Fffuuuccckkk-” His huge hands came up to grasp her slender waist ─ she loved how they could almost completely encircle her ─ and she screamed a little when he shoved her down harder than he meant to, forcing several inches of that veiny girth into her at once.

He looked immediately crestfallen, going puppy-eyed with worry. “I’m sorry, Vicky! Was that too much?” His expression whenever he suspected he’d unwittingly committed a Bad Boy offense was almost heartbreakingly sad, and Vicky’s momentary discomfort was forgotten in her rush to reassurance.

“Hey, shhh, it’s fine.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling reassuringly up at him as she squirmed her hips and took a few deep breaths. “I’m okay, see? Just try to remember to warn me when you’re gonna do that.”

Scott nodded, nuzzling his cheek into her palm and turning to give it a big slobbery lick, which she wiped against his beard with faux-disgust while she continued easing herself down towards the base of his cock. His hands squeezed her hips but he resisted further temptation to pull her down, fighting back those canine breeding instincts to just get balls-deep into that wonderful wet tightness and hammer away at her.

“Friend-designation ‘With Benefits’ Vicky, do you wish me to assist in your carnal satisfaction? Y/N” They hadn’t simply ignored or forgotten about Calculester sitting beside them, far from it. He was always a welcome participant in their sexcapades. They knew if he felt like joining in, he would, and that if he didn’t, being around them when they went at it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He simply viewed it as an opportunity to collect data from willing test subjects.

“God yes,” Vicky groaned as she bottomed out around the base of Scott’s titanic cock, placing a hand over her normally-flat little tummy to palm the tiny bulge created by his cockhead prodding out against her from within. Even with her hand, she could feel it throb with every beat of his heart…it was one of her favorite sensations. “I mean…yes please, Cal. If you don’t mind.” She grinned sheepishly over at him. Her favorite trick of his was running jumper cables from his power core to her neck-bolts and giving her an electroshock-induced orgasm, but Scott wasn’t as fond of high voltage as she was and their current intimate level of contact meant that was a no-go. It wasn’t the only thing Cal could do, though.

“Sure, buddy! Get in on this,” Scott piped in cheerfully. He was too simple to process notions like jealousy, and had never had a problem with Vicky having other parnters ─ though for the most part, she didn’t really want anyone besides him. As far as he was concerned, anything that made her feel good made him happy, and that was the end of it. She did occasionally go to Calculester for a little stimulation when Scott was going to be out of town with the team for more than a couple of days, but it was with Scott’s full knowledge and blessing.

Cal stood, turned and sidestepped, crouching a bit so that he was behind Vicky. His crotch panel opened to reveal a piston with a fixture atop its cylinder where something was clearly meant to be mounted. The side of his thigh opened up like Robocop’s holster, but rather than a ludicrously high-caliber hand cannon, he withdrew from the compartment a long, sleek black dildo and a small resealable bottle of water-based lubricant.

He affixed the dildo, which did have a slight bulbous protrusion approximating a cockhead but was otherwise smooth and featureless, to the fixture and drizzled precisely 7.39338 mL of the lubricant along the topside of its length. He wrapped his other hand around it and gave it six identical strokes from base to tip to evenly coat its surface, the thermoplastic polyurethane (tpu) coated nylon-covered joints protecting the delicate servomechanisms in his hands.

Positioning a fingertip at the tight little pucker situated between Vicky’s shapely ass cheeks, he dispensed the same amount again and began to slowly push that digit into her to lubricate and open her up a bit. Vicky groaned wantonly and rolled her hips, grinding down around the base of Scott’s cock on the forward motion and against Cal’s finger on the way back. “Mmn, yeah…”

Withdrawing his finger, Cal brought his hips forward and pressed the head against her now slick and glistening little hole, and shoved forward a bit more firmly and quickly than most people would prefer. He had compiled the data over multiple trials, however, and knew the exact amount of force in psi that constituted various pleasure or pain thresholds for Vicky ─ with multiple tables accounting for a variety of dildos of different sizes, shapes and densities.

She squeezed her eyes shut and winced, but the groan that escaped her lips sounded more pleasured than pained. She smiled to Scott and nodded significantly. He might not have been the sharpest crayon in the box, but this was one area in which she had him very well-trained. With his strong hands on her hips, he began to lift her up and down, making it look almost effortless. Slowly at first, lifting her a few inches and then dragging her back down onto both the natural and artificial shafts pumping into her and rocking his hips occasionally to grind up into her when she bottomed out around him.

“Yesss,” she moaned while sliding her arms around his neck, steadying herself as she rose and fell in his lap, not yet quite at a pace that would’ve been sufficient to call ‘bouncing’ but knowing they’d get there before long. Calculester had fired up the piston onto which the dildo was mounted at a slow speed, so he didn’t have to buck his hips, merely adjust the angle in correlation with the rise and fall of her bubbly little blue ass.

The mysterious sheet-ghost still stood in the corner, though it appeared to have changed in shape. It now had a round shape protruding from the front of its lower half, moving back and forth in a smooth motion to the accompaniment of wet little slurping sounds as Aaravi knelt on the floor beneath the sheet, bobbing her mouth up and down on Brian’s cock.

Brian’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed the treatment ─ with visibility being rather poor while the sheet was draped over them anyway, he wasn’t missing out on much visually. His hand cupped the back of her head with his fingers buried in her hair, but he didn’t seek to guide her pace or shove her down to take it deeper, rather just rested it there. Beneath the dime store ghost get-up, both of them had on actual costumes. Brian’s brown collared shirt, tan pants, brown leather suspenders and knee-high boots likely would’ve been enough to give him away as Captain Malcolm Reynolds even without the brown coat and gunbelt, but he wore them all the same.

Aaravi’s attempt at DMC4-era Dante was fairly impressive, even though Brian had made her agree to leave the sword and dual pistols outside. Admittedly, 90% of the costume was the iconic red trenchcoat only sleeved to the elbows, but she’d done a halfway decent job on the underclothes as well. Unable to find or fabricate the exact red and black pants, she had settled for black chaps over red jeans. Brian hadn’t wanted her to bring the (non-prop, fully functional) weapons at all, she had wanted to have them on her person at all times ─ they had compromised on her bringing them, but leaving them bundled up in the hollow stump of a tree outside where she could dash out and retrieve them if she needed to murder anyone.

Many a tempestuous facefuck from Damien ─ as well as lewd encounters with other monsters during the practice of her chosen vocation, both consensual and otherwise ─ had trained away most of her gag reflex, so that when allowed to work at her own pace like this she could take even Brian’s large cock balls-deep with only a slight, subdued little ‘gllk-’ sound in terms of gagging, coaxing a groan from him and a light squeeze to the back of her head. While she had a taste in general for the rough, messy, kinky stuff…Brian’s chill encouraged her to indulge in her softer side a bit more easily.

She pulled back slowly, dragging her tongue hard along the underside of his shaft until it cleared her lips to bob lewdly out in front of him. While she’d been taking her sweet time blowing him, she’d gotten her pants worked down around her knees and had been busily playing with herself. “Fuck it,” she murmured as she gripped a fistful of the sheet hanging all around her and gave a swift, decisive yank to whip it off of them and hurl it aside as she stood.

Vicky and Calculester had both pieced together that the ‘ghost’ was two party guests using cover to get up to some amorous shenanigans on the DL and had politely ignored them, assuming they’d reveal themselves at such a time as they were ready. Scott, however, had been completely fooled and had a quite startled reaction to the unexpected revelation. “AHHHH-!” He momentarily stopped shoving Vicky up and down on his dick, and Vicky gave a little jump/scream as well, startled by his reaction and whipping her head around to peer over her shoulder at whatever he was staring at in abject horror.

She let out a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was only Aaravi turning and lifting her trenchcoat in the back, tossing it so it draped down off of one side of her back so that she could back her bared and eager little pussy up onto Brian’s spit-slickened cock. “Oh, hey Brian. Um, Aaravi.”

“Hey, Vick,” Brian responded casually, waving with one hand.

She was personally kind of on the fence about Aaravi, but Brian was one of her best friends and he vouched for her, so she always did her best to give the fiesty little Slayer the benefit of the doubt. “It’s fine, Scott. They’re just…”

“Are all ghosts just Brian and the Slayer in disguise?! So many things suddenly make sense! Like-…like that time Polly took my Scott Snacks. She doesn’t even LIKE Scott Snacks!” Vicky was a little too distracted to properly explain to him right now that all ghosts were not, in fact, Brian and Aaravi having sex. Especially not Polly, who had swiped his Scott Snacks to plant in Leonard’s backpack prior to a class trip so the drug-sniffing dogs at the airport would freak out and he’d get tackled.

She seized his face in her hands and turned his head towards her to force eye contact. “Scott, sweetie, no. It’s fine. I’ll explain later, but weren’t we kind of in the middle of somethinggGh-” Her voice elevated and trailed off a bit there, due to Calculester having noticed her vital signs that signaled arousal beginning to dip, and subsequently increased the speed and force with which the black dildo was pistoning into her ass with deep, smooth, measured strokes.

“Oh, sorry, babe.” Scott grinned apologetically and resumed bouncing her vigorously on his cock, making her throw her head back and gasp. So fucking good. In the process, she caught a glimpse of their newly revealed guests ─ Brian was a fair bit taller than Aaravi and had needed to bend at the knees a bit to line himself up to take her from behind, but they’d worked it out now and she was sinking slowly down around his cock. His strong hands were around her slender wrists, holding her arms back taut and making her arch her spine.

Aaravi and Vicky’s eyes met, and though they said nothing they felt a bit of a connection in that moment. Two of the school’s more petit girls, both with big burly boyfriends who weren’t the least bit shy about having sex in front of other people. She grinned, Vicky smirked, and unspoken ‘hell yeah’s having been exchanged they then returned their attention back to their various partners. Aaravi groaned as she felt Brian’s cock bottom out inside her, his hips meeting her ass with a little clap as he thrusted forward to stuff the final few inches into her.

Him supporting her arms made keeping her balance in this bent-over position considerably simpler, she just had to keep her feet planted shoulder-width apart and focus on not letting them collapse beneath her. After a moment of just feeling him throb deep inside her, she rocked back against him slightly.

Recognizing his ‘giddyup’ cue, Brian began to thrust his hips. He normally tended to be pretty low-key, and start off pretty gradual and tender, but had been dating Aaravi for long enough now to know that ‘slow and gentle’ frustrated her and it was better with her to just jump bypass Low and skip right to Medium. Pulling out of her at an unhurried but not deliberately slow pace, he’d buck his hips while tugging back on her arms to pump back into her with a reasonable degree of force. Not quite all-out from the get-go, but enough for her to keenly feel it.

His efforts produced the desires result, as his little spitfire gasped and groaned, rocking her weight back to meet each thrust. She usually tended to want more, harder. Whatever her threshold was for treatment that would make her ask for mercy or to slow down, he had never seen personally because it was well over the line of how rough he was willing to be with her.

Not that she had, or would ever complain. Even without having a sadistic streak in him to play off her masochism, he was big and strong and accomodating enough to manhandle her to a reasonable degree of satisfaction. He also had other redeeming qualities, and was in fact her first boyfriend in a romantic rather than purely sexual capacity. Thoughts of such sweetness were currently far from her mind as his thick, veiny cock pushed deep inside her. Her pleasured little gasps and the fleshy clapping sounds each time his hips met her ass would have filled the room…

…were they not being almost completely drowned out by Scott’s panting and grunting, the whirring sound of Calculester’s piston pumping away, and Vicky’s cries as she was now bucking wildly up and down on her two sweet boys as they plugged her from both ends. “Ah, ah, ah, ahhHh, ahhn, yesss-!”

Brian was, relatively speaking, quiet in the sack. He didn’t moan overmuch, or talk dirty, but his subdued little grunts and the increasing urgency with which he bucked his hips let Aaravi know he was enjoying himself. Each time he hauled her back by the arms while thrusting his hips forward, she bounced off of his hips with a clap. Her bent-forward position caused her perky little breasts to sway and jiggle subtly as she was rocked back and forth along the length of Brian’s cock, as much as they could within the confines of her shirt and bra.

She intentionally clenched a little around him each time he hilted himself, trying to coax a little more of a reaction out of him. A low ‘hrrrnn…’ was about as much as she knew she could hope for, but she did manage to get that, and her lips curled in a satisfied smirk. She’d been blowing him for a good while, edging him with her mouth and throat to push even the limits of his remarkable endurance, and wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to last.

Speaking of not lasting much longer, Vicky was gasping and quaking as she clung tightly to Scott’s neck. Her eyes were unfocused and half-lidded, and she bit her lower lip. She murmured lovingly into his ear, “Cum with me,” and her loyal canine companion was all too willing to oblige. She shuddered as he hauled her down around the base of his cock and held her there, his eyes squeezed shut and groaning through gritted teeth as he came deep inside her. He had to exercise a bit of self-restraint to not just throw back his head and howl, and let his passion trigger a full-on werewolf transformation.

Such a thing wouldn’t have been a first for the two of them ─ him wolfing out mid-coitus was something she found quite hot but discouraged from happening too often. It was always a little scary, and it cause every aspect of his frame to grow in size and savagery, including his already formidable cock, also bringing the knot into the equation. It was, of course, ruinous to whatever clothes he happened to be wearing at the time, and they had worked hard on his costume.

She was quite content having an intense climax around his more humanoid cock as he filled her up, leaving thoughts of contending with the wolf and taking the knot for the next full moon. Calculester was gradually shaving speed from the piston, the sleek black dildo it propelled slowing to a stop in her tight little ass as she laid heavily against Scott’s chest, panting for breath as they both started to come down.

Aaravi sdushjdfifjPolly what are you doing?!

Grinning up at me from between my thighs, Polly nuzzled her cheek mischievously against the bulge in my leopard-print strongman briefs. Along with some black leather bracers and calf-high boots, they’re all my Flex Mentallo(The Hero of the Beach!) costume consists of.

“What? Don’t think I didn’t notice you up in the rafters narrating, getting all hot and bothered watching everybody fuck. You looked like you could use a hand,” she said while slipping a hand down the front of my briefs and tugging out my long, thick, a-achingly stiff cock. Hey, you try narrating all this goddamned smut sometime without being affected.

“Shhh,” Polly said while closing her lips partially around the side of my shaft near the base, closing her eyes and slowly, lovingly slurping her way to the tip. Truly a master of her craft. “Aw, boo! You’re so sweet. You’re a pretty good Narrator, too. That’s why I invited you, I thought you could stand a night out to relax,” she said while wrapping a hand around the base of my shaft and beginning to nngh that feels good slowly jerk me off. “I didn’t think you were gonna spend the whole night working. Let them take care of themselves for a little while, so I can take care of you.”

She winked up at me before sinking her wonderful mouth and throat haaAhhH effortlessly down around every inch of my cock, floating horizontally with her head tipped back to ease its ingress. She was currently in a translucent state, so I could see every inch of my cock t-throbbing through her neck as she poked her tongue out over her lower lip to graze my heavy, rather full balls.

Oh, fuck…I placed my hand over the back of her head, giving an affirming little squeeze before relaxing, not wanting to hold her down even though she doesn’t choke or even breathe. She began to bob her head, taking my twitching length in and out of her throat with smooth, deep strokes. All the while, she alternated between slurping messily and wetly with a loose seal of her lips around the shaft, and sucking so firmly her cheeks went concave. It felt-…feels? Sorry, keeping past and present tense in order while getting your cock sucked so well can be tricky-

And now she’s shooting a look I interpret to be mildly annoyed up at me. As if to ask why I don’t just stop narrating and enjoy myself. Ah, lovely fan favorite Polly, if only it were that easy. I reach down to caress her cheek, endeavoring to give her as much of my attention as I can spare. She pulls back so that just the swollen head remains in her mouth, wrapping both hands around the slick shaft and jerking me off with the perfect amount of wet friction while sucking hard and dragging her tongue firmly over the tip. Fffuck-

As much as I’d like to prolong the experience, I’ve been narrating a dozen or so people having sex for four chapters now, I’m already pretty worked up and Polly is showing no signs of going easy on me. She isn’t interested in a long, chill energy blowjob, she’s trying to make me cum. If you’re at all familiar with this series, you probably know she’s quite good at it. If this is your first exposure to the fandom…what the fuck is wrong with you? Stop reading fanfics about it on AO3 and go play it on Steam, for heaven’s sake! Even with the DLC it’s only $18 at full price, you really have no excuse.

I shudder, the muscles in my back going tense as Polly jerks me off and bobs her head vigorously over the upper half of the shaft with wet little pops each time she pulls back to the tip. One hand is working the base of the shaft while the other cupped and gently kneaded my heavy, swollen sac. She can already feel me growing close.

Surging her head forward, she buries every inch down her throat and sucks hard, dragging me over the edge. She feels my balls she’s delicately caressing draw up against my body as I watch a deluge of cum spray from the head of my cock and down her throat, losing sight of it past the neckline of her dress. It feels like a good twenty seconds before my cock stops pulsing, Polly just letting out a delighted little moan all the while, before I gasp and relax, hanging onto one of the perpendicular rafters with one hand so that I don’t slip and fall off the joist I’m sitting on as I slump back. Thank you, Polly. That was

“Don’t thank me yet, baby,” Polly interrupts as the head of my still-stiff cock clears her lips. “I was just getting that pesky first nut out of the way so you can last longer for round two.” Grinning wickedly, she floats upright into a sitting position and turns her back to me, lifting her dress in the back to reveal her spectacular ass and dripping wet pussy drifting back towards me.

You know what? Fuck this. I’m taking the rest of the chapter off, I deserve this. Blah blah blah, Brian cums in Aaravi’s pussy, it’s amazing. Catch back up with me in chapter five, after I finish fucking the afterlife out of Polly. End.

Chapter Text

Sorry about that, Polly and I got a little carried away. It took long enough to fill what would have been chapter five, so I’m making an executive decision to skip ahead to six. Ahem.

Faith hadn’t seen Joy since they arrived, and had briefly spoken to Hope as she was coming inside earlier. Hope had said she was looking for Valerie, and had headed in the direction of the door Faith could only assume was the basement, she hadn’t seen her since. After exploring upstairs for a bit, and finding the haunted gramophone that was the source of the music playing throughout the house ─ along with several people who had just finished or were still in the process of having sex ─ she decided to check the basement for her wayward coven members.

Slipping through the door and closing it behind her, she removed her dark-tinted glasses and tucked them into a pocket inside her tattered tailcoat. It was dimly lit enough down there not to bother her rather sensitive eyes. From the top of the stairs, even without being able to see down there quite yet, she knew from the muffled moaning and gagging, and the copious lewd wet schlurping and shlicking sounds that some tentacle violation was taking place, with at least two participants. It was remarkable, the things you learned to recognize by sound alone when you spent long enough battling evil and/or chaotic arcane forces.

Descending slowly, keeping the weight of her footsteps toward the edges of the stairs which would be less likely to creak than the middle, she peered over the railing as she came out from behind the wall to confirm her suspicions. Zoe, dressed as Utena Tenjou in full duelist garb, sat on a sofa with an impressive swarm of tentacles deployed from her head holding both Hope and Valerie aloft almost to the ceiling.

Valerie, who seemed to unknowingly be competing with Faith for Most Obscure Costume and also Worst Color Palette, wore a green suit with a purple vest, white collared undershirt, red tie and brown shoes. She had a red spandex sleeve covering her tail to smooth down the fur, which was capped off at the end with a spaded tip to give it the appearance of a demon tail. There was a green bowler hat laying some distance away on the floor that presumably belonged to her as well, but had long since fallen off as she was roughly used by the tentacles surrounding and supporting her.

She laid more or less horizontally, face-up, with purple tentacles coiled around her waist, spread thighs and beneath her shoulders. The suit pants were tugged down around her ankles to enable her to spread her legs as two thick tentacles rammed her pussy and ass with deep, smooth strokes in an alternating rhythm. One had snaked its way under her shirt, between her breasts and out her loosened collar to thrust into her mouth and down her throat, while she eagerly stroked off two more hovering within range to either side of her. While Faith watched, the head of one swelled up as it gushed forth a substantial amount of sticky white cum over the side of Valerie’s already-coated face. She worked it vigorously with her hand while it came, and as soon as it slithered from her grasp a fresh one presented itself to take its place.

Hope was facedown, her black dress flipped up to partially cover the tentacles around her waist. Her legs were spread, bent at the knees to point her toes at the ceiling, firmly secured by tentacles wrapped around her thighs and calves. Faith wasn’t surprised to see Hope’s arms bound behind her back with a tentacle securing her wrists rather than putting her hands to work as Val was, she had long known Hope liked to be tied up. Her head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, gagging and drooling copiously as her small body was bounced viciously back and forth between the tentacle driving down her throat, making her neck bulge visibly around its girth, and the two hammering her tight little ass and pussy. The Coven all had their own creatures of the night that were their particular weakness, and tentacles were Hope’s much as Joy couldn’t help herself when it came to vampires.

Faith didn’t mind a good tentacle gangbang once in a blue moon, though her personal preferences skewed towards the cubi, lust demons. It was not to Hope and Val’s treatment that her eyes were principally drawn, however. Her gaze fixed itself upon Zoe where she sat on the couch, one leg removed from her little red shorts to leave them bunched around the other thigh so she could spread her legs and eagerly finger herself with her left hand as she gazed upwards at the other two girls. Hope and Val were too occupied to notice Faith as she silently descended the rest of the stairs and crossed the floor towards the sofa, and Zoe didn’t notice her until Faith’s shadow, cast by the single dingy yellow light bulb hanging from a chain in the center of the ceiling, fell over her.

“O-Oh, Faith, you’re mmmnph-?” Whatever she had been attempting to stammer was cut off as Faith knelt on the floor between her legs and leaned over to claim her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Faith slid one hand around to cup the back of Zoe’s neck while the other shooed her hand away from her dripping purple pussy lips. After the initial surprise wore off, Zoe seemed more than happy to let Faith take over. Zoe plied her tongue timidly against Faith’s as it confidently invaded her mouth.

That hand caressing the back of Zoe’s neck lingered for a few moments before falling away to slip inside Faith’s coat, to a deep side pocket containing a toy she’d brought with her. Not quite her favorite, but a good deal more portable and suited to a wider range of partners. As much as she savored wielding her monstrous eighteen inch black strap-on, it didn’t travel easily and Polly was about the only one who could take the whole thing anyway. What she produced from her pocket was a somewhat more reasonable eight inch feeldoe(the so-called “strapless strap-on”), though still rather stout in girth and capped with a bulbous head.

It certainly looked massive from Zoe’s perspective as the kiss was broken and she suddenly found the head of the gleaming black apparatus pressed to her lips. Faith, a seasoned domme, issued a single word of command in a tone that brooked no questioning of her will. “Suck.”

Zoe blushed furiously, her gaze held transfixed by Faith’s as she gave a nervous, excited little nod. Parting her lips and saying ‘ah’ like a good girl, she gagged as it was immediately thrust into her mouth and pushed to the back of her throat, giving her a somewhat more reserved taste of what she was serving up to her two willing playmates hanging above them. Her cheeks puffed out a bit, and she sucked as best she was able as Faith worked it smoothly in and out of her mouth, in rhythm with the two fingers now working Zoe’s tight, wet little pussy. “That’s it,” Faith murmured in a soft, even tone. Positive reinforcement to make Zoe crave her praise and approval. This might not get to be a regular thing, but she slipped easily into the habits of breaking in and training a new sub, deploying two of the most powerful words in the domme’s arsenal, “good girl. Get it nice and wet for where it’s going next.” Just in case it wasn’t perfectly obvious to where she was referring, Faith curled her fingers in the eldritch cutie’s snug pussy, rubbing the pad of her thumb over her clit.

It worked like a charm, of course. Zoe had read ─ and written ─ a good deal of fanfiction covering scenarios such as this, but feeling the forceful presence of a skilled domme’s personality in person, having it directed at her was something else entirely. Her heart raced, she worked her tongue eagerly against the length of black rubber pumping her mouth as though it could feel, wanting to do everything in her power to please her new…Mistress. Just saying the word to herself, even as inner monologue because her mouth was otherwise occupied, made her toes curl. Her heart raced, and she heard the moans and whimpers from Hope and Val rise in pitch, causing her to realize her excitement had let her tentacles get a little out of control and give it to them harder than was strictly playful for a few moments. Her cheeks burned with both arousal and embarassment at the misstep, quickly easing off the gas so to speak so that neither of them would be hurt.

Faith shoved it forward into the back of her mouth and left it parked there for a few moments and withdrew her fingers, leaving Zoe to buck her hips needfully and hump at empty air while she freed up both of her hands to drop trow. Unlike many of those in attendance, she hadn’t come here specifically looking to get laid, she was merely…open to the possibility, and as such hadn’t gone commando or worn particularly titillating underthings ─ just plain purple panties which dropped around her knees shortly after the pants.

Zoe coughed a bit as Faith extracted the toy from her mouth, thin strands of saliva bridging the head to her lips before Faith drew it far enough away. Bringing the bulb sticking up out of the topside near the base to her own pussy, she teased her lips with the tapered end and began to slowly push it into herself. She gritted her teeth as it got progressively wider until it approached the center, then narrowed again so that it popped into her past that halfway point and lodged itself firmly enough to withstand some moderately vigorous thrusting without slipping free.

Faith firmly grasped Zoe’s hips, eliciting a sharp little gasp from the smaller girl as she assertively yanked her down a little further off the edge of the couch. Supporting her weight with one hand while the other wrapped around the base of the black rubber phallus to steady it, she brought her hips forward to press the head against Zoe’s dripping lips and slowly began to push into her. “O-OhhHh-! Oh, wow,” Zoe muttered as that girth began to stretch her tight little pussy open.

She was lightheaded, both from pure arousal and from having to divide her attention. The tentacles were mostly on autopilot, but if she paid them no mind whatsoever they could get out of hand. Val and Hope might not have heard Faith’s stealthy entrance, but once she had spoken they became aware of her presence and were now doing their best to watch the show unfolding below them, though the possessive tentacles weren’t always accomodating.

Val watched with keen interest until a phallic purple tentacle prodding insistently against her cheek began to coil around her jaw, threatening to wrench her head to the side if she didn’t acknowledge it, at which point she turned her head away from the action to allow it to thrust eagerly into her mouth and down her throat.

Faith pushed every inch of that sizeable toy into the smaller, trembling girl’s tight little pussy until their hips met, mindful that she was an ageless deity who was doubtlessly much tougher than she looked and not being quite as gentle as she normally would have with one so petit. She was supporting the full weight of the two other girls with the tentacles emerging from her head without showing the slightest sign of strain or discomfort to her slender little neck, for one thing.

She began to thrust into her, the motion causing the bulb lodged inside her to move and provide her with some stimulation as well, which she maximized by grinding down against it each time she bucked forward and buried the shaft of the dildo portion fully into Zoe. She had to continue loosely gripping the base of the shaft with one hand ─ for all their seductive, mystifying marketing about being strapless, they didn’t work perfectly without a harness or a helping hand to hold them in place. She did own a harness for it, but it would’ve been too cumbersome to fit discretely into a pocket when folded up on itself, even the deep pockets of the coat she wore.

Zoe didn’t seem to mind her not being able to go full-out in terms of force, however. She was easily excitable, aroused as much by the mental picture of herself getting lesdommed as by the physical sensation the toy provided, enhanced by whatever degree of pleasure-feedback she felt from the tentacles eagerly violating her two all-too-willing ‘captives’. She arched her spine and gasped as she was fucked, curling her legs up around Faith’s waist while her tentacle-arm curled down around the front of the couch to securely grip the frame from beneath, her hand gripping the edge of the cushion for dear life.

Faith noted, in fact, that she almost seemed ready to climax already. That simply wouldn’t do. Lifting her left hand from Zoe’s hip and reaching forward, she wrapped it around her slender throat. She didn’t choke her, or even squeeze at all really, but her response to the gesture alone was electric. Zoe gasped, bit her lip and gazed eagerly down at her with those inky black pools of infinity with distant pinpricks of light that sufficed as her eyes for instruction.

“If you cum before I tell you, I’m going to be very disappointed.” She kept her tone remarkably level, even as she was bucking her hips and grinding against Zoe to get herself off in the process. She intentionally left the details of what her displeasure might entail unsaid, having learned that leaving it up to the imagination of one’s partner nearly always resulted in something hotter and/or scarier than anything she could threaten with.

Judging by how wide Zoe’s eyes went and the near-total saturation of the blush that came to her face, she’d predicted correctly. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut and nodded tensely, now putting serious focus into distracting herself and delaying her imminent orgasm. “Y-Yes, Mistress…” Her voice emerged as a shaky whisper, and Faith smirked. She felt herself to be a fairly competent domme, but didn’t give herself all the credit for Zoe being quite this easy to handle. A large part of that likely fell on Zoe, having her first opportunity to indulge in several long and deeply held fantasies doing some of Faith’s work for her.

With the satisfaction of her partner now doubtlessly secured, being held off by willpower alone, Faith had only to focus on getting herself off. Each time she rocked forward into Zoe, she took a few extra seconds to buck and grind down around the bulb. She also allowed herself to fully open her senses she had been tuning out before, and take in the lewd sounds of Hope and Val’s strained, muffled whimpers of equal parts pleasure and sexual exhaustion, and to appreciate the sight of Zoe sprawled out before her, her entire body seeming to vibrate with nervous excitement.

With all of that in effect, it didn’t take long until she was riding the ragged edge of climax right alongside Zoe. She was panting ever so slightly, displaying the faintest crack in her unflappable veneer of confidence and control. Leaning forward, she grazed her lips in a brief, feather-soft kiss against Zoe’s while whispering to her, “Cum,” unprepared for the full consequences that were to follow.

Zoe arched her spine tightly and screamed, in various pitches from her various mouths, and in the various tongues of dead and forgotten gods she had consumed over her eons of existence. Everyone in the house felt it in their psyche even if they didn’t physically hear it.

Additionally, Joy and Valerie learned that the bond of sensation between Zoe and her semi-autonomous tentacles wasn’t a perfectly balanced two way street. When one of the tentacles came, filling or showering one of them with its cum, Zoe seemed to feel some twinge of pleasure as a result. When Zoe came, so did all of the tentacles, at least the ones that were polymorphed into the phallic form as opposed to the suckered ones. They cried out as all the tentacles inside them simultaneously grew thicker and gushed forth an obscene amount of hot, sticky cum, gushing out from their various orifices to dribble and spatter messily over the unfinished concrete floor far below them, or basting them nearly from head to toe in the case of the tentacles hovering around them awaiting their turn for a hole or at least a hand to fill.

They both came again, as well, their bodies bucking and trembling in the air ─ partially from satisfaction at being utterly defiled and filled up by those wonderful tentacles, but due also in large part to the lust-tinged psychic shockwave Zoe had unleashed. Unbeknownst to them, everyone in the house who may have still currently been having sex was also overcome by an unexpectedly sudden and powerful orgasm, while those not partaking merely experienced a brief, vividly intense feeling of arousal.

Faith’s hips were still twitching as she came down from her own intense climax, as she hunched over Zoe planting soft, lingering kisses against the side of her neck and stroked her hips soothingly to help her calm down, her body gradually ceasing to shake as Faith held her and murmured sweet nothings to her about how she was okay. The tentacles holding the other girls aloft lowered them gradually to the floor, unwound from around and inside of them as they laid there as twitching, sticky messes, and began to recoil into Zoe’s head.

Nobody said anything for quite some time, before Zoe murmured to Faith in a small, tired voice, “Cool costume.”

“Thank you,” Faith said sincerely, both for the compliment and the experience.

There was another pause as Zoe racked her brain one final time trying to recognize it, loathe as she was to admit she didn’t get a reference, before she broke down and asked, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Faith smiled to herself, her face still hidden against the side of Zoe’s neck. For as much as mysterious and aloof were on-brand for her, she’d actually been waiting all night for someone to ask her. “I’m the Showman. From The Last Temptation. It’s-…a graphic novel written by Neil Gaiman and Alice Cooper, with an accompanying concept album.”

“Oh! That sounds…really cool, actually,” Zoe conceded. “I’ll have to check it out.”

Across the floor, Valerie hoarsely whispered something that even Hope, laying nearby, could barely hear. She lifted her head, reaching out a hand that felt much too heavy, to graze Val’s forearm. “What…?”

“Renon,” Valerie said again with some effort. “The demon shopkeeper from Castlevania 64.” They hadn’t had a lot of money growing up, so she hadn’t always had the latest generation of video game console, but well after the end of its life cycle their dad had secured her a used N64 and a small pile of games that were in good working order. It was the source of many cherished childhood memories, including playing Mario Kart with her father and sister for hours at a time, and had felt unusually drawn to the well-dressed stranger who warned against greed and reappeared near the end of the game as an extra boss fight if you failed to heed his advice, and amassed and spent too much wealth. She hadn’t expected anyone but Vera to get the reference.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Blobert stood near the table in the kitchen upstairs, feeling…different. He waved to Miranda as she walked in, looking dazed with her costume askew and her hair disheveled. She returned the wave with a sheepish smile, walking over and collapsing into a chair to admire the spread of mostly-ignored snacks before selecting an orange-frosted chocolate cupcake from the container he had brought and taking a dainty bite.

“Blobert…these are exquisite!” She regarded the confection with wonder, taking another bite and dabbing at the corners of her lips with a Halloween-themed paper napkin from the pile on the table. “You must give me the recipe to pass on to our royal bakers.”

Blobert didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was a boxed mix he’d improvised upon with a little extra vanilla extract and a touch of cinnamon. “Uh, old family recipe. Sorry. My mom is leaving me the recipe card in her will, as is tradition.”

“I understand,” Miranda said with a solemn nod, keenly aware of the importance of generational family secrets. She would not ask again.

“Great party, huh? I’ll have to send Polly a thank you card tomorrow for inviting me,” the considerate bloboform remarked while popping a deviled egg into his mouth. It sank into his body mass a bit below his head and hung there, suspended, to be slowly dissolved over a long period of time.

“Yes, it’s…really something,” Miranda replied evasively while taking a suddenly deeper interest in the inspection and consumption of her cupcake so as to be spared having to elaborate.