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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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The One where Soap finds Himself in an ✨ Awkward ✨Situation. [ Ghost x Reader ]

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Soap Being Confused, Occasional Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’.

Summary: Hiding out at your house, the 141 are settling in for the evening. Soap ends up hearing something he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t have on his way to the bathroom. But why can’t he seem to stop listening ?

“Gah! Fuck–”

The voice splintering through the door made Soap jump – near caused him to soil his favourite pair of jeans as it rumbled through the wood, practically taking it off its hinges with how the nails shuddered in their slots. The voice was baritone, deep. Grizzled. A carnality slumbered in its tone, rearing its waking head.

Ghost.

“Shh, Simon ! You’re going to get us caught !”

Yours followed soon after, a reprimand Johnny would never dream of dishing to the most lethal man he’s ever known. And yet here you were, doing God-knows-what, speaking to him as if you were in control.

When all went quiet again, just for a moment, Soap stopped and wondered if it had all been a hallucination. One second, then two. A low moan slipped beneath the door. Johnny jumped.

He was just going to walk away. Truly, he was ! He – and the rest of the 141 – saw how much chemistry – history – you and Ghost shared. Although, he’d just never imagined you’d be sharing it with the rest of the house, too.

Well, if Simon’s volume was anything to go by.

Johnny’s eyes drifted from the end of the hallway – where the beloved bathroom was – to the door beside him. He bit his lip, heart beating, still recovering from the fright. His curiosity was far from piqued – it shot through the bloody roof and left an impromptu skylight in its wake. And as imaginary sunlight filtered in through the hole, Johnny begged that divine intervention would tear him away from the scene unfolding beside him so he wouldn’t have to.

“God, don’t stop,” came Simon’s pleading tone, any harshness that was custom to it having melted away. Soap, against all better judgement and higher power, inched closer to the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder, once, twice. Nobody lurked behind. His ear was almost pressed to the wood. He could hear Simon panting, hear you humming as you did…something.

“I won’t – not until you’re finished.” There was little to be heard in the way of shame in your voice, especially in your gentle whisper: “I promise.” Soap swallowed thickly, then, blinking, began rubbing his ears. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He just couldn’t !

Only, when he had thoroughly cleared the imaginary poison from his ears, the issue remained.

“Shit–! That’s it, right there–”

“God, you’re so stiff, Simon. What have you been doing while you were away ?” There was almost a purr to your voice. Ghost only let out a moan as his response, muffled by what Johnny could only guess were pillows.

Why am I still here?! he all but screamed, remembering that he was no Pinocchio, trapped on this stage, bound by strings. He could have been a free man if he so wished. And trust, he did. So why was it that, when he went to walk away, to scour his ears with bleach, to finally embark upon his uninterrupted journey to the bathroom, that he found himself glued in place ?

Perhaps it was the primal instinct to know all that there is to know, to discern danger wherever it lay. Or, perhaps, he was so eneamoured with the idea of whatever could be happening on the other side of this door – Ghost being human for a change – that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to see him so…vulnerable.

That sounded about right.

“(Y/N),” Ghost’s voice husked, no longer dampened, restricted, by an unknown force. He groaned, long and unfiltered. The way he spoke your name was almost in the tone of love, its softest and most carnal form, as if tasting the gradient of your syllables, vowels and consonants upon his tongue. He all but growled. You gasped.

“(Y/N), you’re so close–”

“You want it there, Simon ?” You didn’t miss a beat. Soap’s breath caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder to the imaginary camera filming his ordeal.

“Yes, yes, God – yes–”

“Doing so well for me, Si,” you said, soft and encouraging. Ghost’s breathing was at its heaviest now, heaving breaths as if they were bricks, building a tower from which he may never come down. A high he will never beat.

“We’re almost there,” you told him, to which he only let out a thick, strangled noise, bulging beneath invisible chains as he tried to conceal it. His moans only grew longer and more frequent, his jaw presumably dropping open to let them pass when he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Soap began to wring his hands, thankful for the lack of a keyhole in the door so to spare him the intrusive desire to spy on the situation visually, too. Trapped in his own daze, his hurried, sweating, anxious contemplation was torn open by a sound so sharp and brilliant he never wanted to hear it again.

Ghost moaned.

Straight-up howled, roared, as he came to an end.

Soap’s soul clung to his body as the sheer calamity Ghost’s booming voice brought with it shook the very ground he stood on. Johnny’s hands flew to his racing heart, trying to catch it as it jumped up his throat.

Simon’s voice tapered, muffled after most likely burying his face into a pillow. With every exhale, a sliver of euphoria would follow, eventually baying out like the tide, his breathing returning to a shallow rhythm. And all the while, you paid him words of comfort.

“Well done,” you said, the smile in your voice evident. “Took it so well, Simon,” Your voice was feather-light, belied the illicit nature of all Soap had heard you do.

Though, even in this dazed, mortified state, he couldn’t fathom how you sounded so…normal. As if you’d exerted no energy.

Perhaps (Y/N)’s just…strong…? Johnny’s reasoning left much to be desired, that much he knew. Even Ghost was winded, and he was by far the fittest of the 141.

In amongst his rampant thoughts, the idea to flee the scene came too late as, upon hearing you dismount Ghost, your footsteps fast approaching the door, Johnny’s eyes widened, the state he’d be in if either you or Ghost found him unintentionally spying flashing before his eyes as his life no doubt would later.

He couldn’t scramble away in time. He ran on the spot, a cartoon, his impending doom facing him head-on as you swung the door open. His eyes all but watered as he caught sight of you wiping your hands on a towel. You smiled.

“Oh, hey, Jo-Jo !” You said, his nickname rolling off your tongue as if Simon’s hadn’t been just minutes ago. You gave him a brief nod before walking past him, a spectre. A harbinger of death. Johnny stood, body reeling, mind freezing, as nothing became clearer to him except your blase manner. He released a short, puffed breath.

He saw the inside of your bedroom, your bed just out of sight, hidden by the door.

Breath quivering, Body shaking, Soap knew this was his chance.

His last chance.

He turned. Didn’t even make the floorboards creak as he did so.

“Fuck’re you lookin’ at, Johnny ?”

Ghost’s voice rolled across Soap’s mind like thunder clouds, despite the laxity of it, the slowness. He froze, ice rain slipping down the back of his shirt and making him stand up straight. Rigid.

“Uh…I–” He winced, his voice cracking, showing the uncertainty that lay below his usually obsidian tone.

“N-Nothing, Sir !”

Sir ? We’re not at base now, you daft fool–

“Somethin’s obviously botherin’ you,” came Ghost again. He let out a breath. “So come on.” His voice was free from the cotton-mouth effect of the pillows.

“Say it.”

Johnny swallowed, his voice prickling either with dehydration, tears, or an unsolvable mixture of both. When he said nothing – did nothing – Ghost sighed.

“Come on, Johnny,” he said, stark as ever. “Haven’t got all day.”

“W…Well–”

“And come out from ‘round that door. S’impolite not to face the person you’re talking to.”

Johnny’s heart stopped.

No, he couldn’t have heard him properly.

“Are…you…sure…?”

Better safe than sorry.

“What’d’you– course I’m bloody sure. Now stop messin’ about and get in ‘ere.”

Taking a deep breath, and a leap of faith, Johnny rounded the door, the corner. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying.

He heard Simon sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – at least open you eyes, you daft prick.”

Begrudgingly, hesitantly, Soap cracked one eye open, then the other.

His brain almost couldn’t fathom the dissonance between all that was there, all that wasn’t, and all that he’d expected there to be.

Simon was chest-down on your bed, arms surrounding a bundle of pillows, holding them as if they were collected sticks, his head resting atop one. He watched Johnny from the corner of his half-lidded eye. He was dressed from the waist down, and his back, wet with what Soap had initially come to the horrifying conclusion was sweat, was actually bronzed with what permeated the air: a soothing oil.

Lavender.

Soap’s gaze jumped from point to point, trying to find something – anything – of the reality that had played out behind the door.

“Well ?” Ghost said. “I’m listening.”

Johnny, for the last time, swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck. His frying nerves cooled, though electricity still ran through them.

“I thought–” he gave the room another once-over.

“I thought you and… (Y/N)... were…”

Simon huffed.

“Were…?”

Johnny let out a breath, an almost-laugh. He gave a feeble smile.

“Nothin’ Sir–”

“No, go on,” Ghost prodded, getting up onto his elbows and turning over, now facing Johnny. “I’m curious now.”

John bit his lip, trying to quell the incessant itch there. He could taste the sweat collecting on his top lip.

“I just thought that…” He couldn’t look SImon in the eyes, his gaze bouncing around the room. He could feel Simon’s eyes narrowing, his patience waning.

He sighed. The jig was up.

“I…thought– that you and (Y/N) were…” He looked to Ghost, who gave no indication of understanding what Johnny was getting at, his disposition monotone as ever. Even without the mask, he was no less imposing.

Johnny made a gesture with his fists, bumping them together.

Simon’s eyes widened by a fraction of a fraction.

He said nothing. Soap’s fight-or-flight instinct re-activated. He glanced at the door. The hallway. His narrow chance of escape.

“How–” Ghost’s voice drew Johnny back to the land of the living.

“How loud were we ?”

Johnny grimaced.

“Not really (Y/N), Sir,” he said. “Just…” his hand grew into the shape of what he was trying to say. “You.”

Upon seeing Simon’s eyes widen even more, Johnny’s gaze dropped. And found another, damning detail.

Quick, use your natural humour and charm !

“Though,” he smiled, crooked, sided and small. A start. “I can see something’s made you somewhat excited,”

Simon’s eyebrow raised, and following Soap’s gaze, his shoulders went rigid.

Oh no.

A tent had been pitched in his sweatpants, plain as day for all who looked to see. Johnny’s top set of teeth grappled with his bottom lip, trying to purse his lips shut.

A snort sneaked past, and he slapped a hand over his mouth immediately, as if trying to scoop it back in.

Ghost’s gaze hardened. His eyes concrete.

“Tell (Y/N), you die tonight.”

Soap, smiling widely, simply turned in the beginnings of his departure.

“Course, Lieutenant,” he said. “Aaanything you say.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 ghost #soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap mw2

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mooncheese3 · 1 month

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DISCLAIMER: this version is different from the prev post on this au (vvv) in that this is the only incarnation of sj that ghost!yqy has encountered, and bingges dont keep popping up for a shizun. but yqy still goes down the simon petrikov route of self sacrifice for loved one(s)

ok so ghost!yqy in the modern world with reincarnated!sj

So. after pidw. yqy's physical body didnt survive, but his spirit Did. he failed sj so many times already, he's not going to fail him again, and through sheer determination and love and want he put himself back together (as hed always done)

him fixing himself wasnt really bc of his rational mind. if anything it was a glutteral, instinctual Need that really pushed him to mold himself into a being all over again. however bc his spirit is binded with xuansu's, on top of his spirit almost disappearing bc of how much scattered, bringing the pieces of himself together took a LOT of time

by the time he took form, sqq was long dead

not sure if he shouldve been the one to end lbg, but itd be kind of cool if that was the case

and so yqy, whose entire purpose is to protect sj, roams the world looking for his reincarnation

in the background apocalyptic shit happens that leads the world to abandon and/or forget about cultivation, which leads us to the modern world!!🥳

sj still has a hard-knock life on the streets and then with the qius--can u tell im a sucker for the history repeats itself trope. he doesnt remember anything, but he Does feel like someone is missing. like someone that Should be there Isnt. its a constant feeling in the back of his mind, but he always pushed it away to focus on the now.

like what happened in his first life, sj has enough of all the abuse and kills qjl. what Changes though is that yqy is finally--after thousands and hundreds of years--on time

yqy burns everything down.

sj isnt sure what to make of this malevolent being. no one else but him can see it, though people /can/ see when it moves things around. people have always mentioned to sj that they feel like someone's watching them, though when they look around no one is looking their way

it makes people leave him alone, which is honestly what sj prefers

its (he's?) his savior and he makes him feel safe, yes, but who knows when that wrath gets directed at himself. his head is screaming at the threat yqy poses while his instinct and soul tells him hes safest with yqy. for a long time sj walks on eggshells around yqy, sometimes trying to escape his presence

his attempts always fail, though. somehow.

he eventually starts to warm up to yqy. sj has a feeling that this...thing was always meant to be by his side (as illogical as that sounds). he no longer has that feeling of a missing presence, something he'd felt since he'd developed a consciousness as a very young child

sj even finds the ghost a bit endearing, in his infinite gentleness to contrast his terrifying, sharp form. he doesnt understand why the ghost is so protective over him (the ghost once almost flew into a destructive frenzy over everything except him when he and his team went to investigate a deep, unexplored ravine that appeared out of nowhere), but that was endearing too

— RAMBLES BC I FORGOT WHAT I WAS GONNA TYPE NEXT (ITS BEEN A FEW MONTHS SORRY) —

one day sj got tired of calling the ghost “the ghost”, so he decided to find him a name. the ghost seems to have an opinion on this, as his thick eyebrows turned downwards every time sj called/proposed to him a name to be referred to. the progress was non existent, so sj started spouting out random characters and then later on numbers. when sj gets to “qi”, the ghost very excitedly straightens up from its seemingly perpetual hunched posture.

“7?” sj snorts, finding it a little funny. who knows, perhaps spirits loose their marbles the longer they stay amongst the living. he watches “qi’s” eyes crease into happy crescents, the shadows seeping away from his form retreating back into himself. his form looks more solid: less blurry and more clearer at the edges.

“lao qi, you really are weird” sj says fondly, though is inwardly confused when lao qi seems to deflate a little. perhaps he didnt want to be reminded of his age?

"what, do you want to be called xiao qi?" qi's eyes twitch, as if weirded out. "thought so. qige?"

at this, qi's eyes widen into two happy suns, joyfully—on instinct—coming closer. but then stops himself a pace away, as if remembering himself

sj raises a brow, "youre far too old to be called qige; im many generations your junior, yknow? youre basically my grandfather's ancestor's ancestor"

qi's eyes droop into despondent half circles. sj carefully doesnt say any more, recognizing that it may be a more sensitive topic than he thought.

SORRY YUE QI </3333 BUT </333 ... ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD

THAT I AM GOING TO EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW, BUT NOT VERY WELL DONE:

in canon, sqq and yqy are stuck in the past. it keeps them from growing as persons and as. brothers? friends? Potential Lovers. Yes.

in this au, it is especially so for yqy, who loses himself the more he clings to the past, his promise, and sj

when he first died, his soul was at risk of being destroyed, scattered pieces and all. but because he put himself back together, he Could reincarnate into his next life. its just that he refuses to.

had he allowed himself to move on and accept that things have passed, he would have been able to start over anew in the modern world; perhaps even changed the course fate seems to have set on them for the better Without his soul suffering for it

sj reminding him that hes from an era long gone serves as one of many instances that help him come to terms with. dying? moving on. Yes.

ON THE TOPIC OF YQY'S SOUL MOVING ON.

i was thinking just now How that would happen, esp when in this au yqy's soul is like. one wrong move away from self destruction, xuan su's still binded to him, yqy letting go of sj after roaming All Those Years? Very hard., its the modern world so supernatural cultuvation stuff is almost entirely out of the picture, sj is like 25 what would he know about these things, etcetc that sort of stuff

but then i was like. "WAIT A MINUTE. THIS IS AIRPLANES WORLD. TRUE LOVE IS TOTALLY A VIABLE SOLUTION"

so. True love is the solution. true love saves qige💗

and then in their next life its the ultra ultra modern futuristic au and theyre pilots of mega robots 💗 /hj

OH. AND. THIS IS THE SONG I GOT THE DIALOGUE (???) FROM

youtube

#qijiu #malevolent spirit!yqy #ghost!yqy #but he puts the love in malevolent #yue qingyuan #yue qi #original shen qingqiu #shen jiu #mxtx #svsss

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rainybubbles · 1 year

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How do the COD men end up calling you at 1 A.M ?

Gaz, Price, Soap, König, Ghost, Alex, Alejandro

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC)

G A Z :

-"I don't think I can help you Gaz" you said on the phone, while sitting on your bed.

-"but you said you like animals."

-"YES BUT I CAN'T MOVE A FUCKING ALLIGATOR BECAUSE IT'S ON YOUR BALCONY" you scream on the phone "How..." you take a pause "I don't want to know how it ends up here."

-"...so you won't come."

-"Gaz it's 1 AM."

-"You said I can call you if I need help."

-"Yes. But the alligator is the exception."

-"...and if I also have a racoon in my bed ?"

-"...Gaz did you..." you realize.

-"It's a hypothesis."

-"I can hear on the phone, the crack behind you."

-"...okay maybe it's true."

-"WHY DO YOU HAVE A ZOO IN YOUR HOME ??!"

-"It's not me, animals like me."

-"You're a fucking Disney princess."

-"...does it mean if I whistle, they go ?"

-"...I don't want to answer that."

-"...so you're coming ?"

-"Only because I don't want to end up in prison for failure to assist a person in danger."

-"And you like me."

-"Gaz I'm not confessing my feelings after we talked about a racoon."

-"You don't deny it."

-"..."

-"you will see the alligator is nice."

-"Gaz, no." you sigh

P R I C E :

-"John ?" you answer on the phone. Your voice is hoarse, the call has woken you up.

-"Sorry I have woken you up, love."

-"Is there a problem ?" you ask. You were worried because last time John called you, Soap exploded John's bathroom and he needed your help.

-"No, there is none. I just finished a mission and wanted to hear your voice." he says with his deep voice.

-Your heart skips a beat. Alone in your dark room, you feel butterflies in your belly. Price and you were friends, you were a librarian and you met because John was a regular who reads many history books.

-You have a crush on the man, but you didn't know if there was a chance because of his job.

-"I see" you answer, you don't know what to add "does my voice sound so charming ?" you joke

-"It is honey for my ears, love."

-shit.

-The man has rizz at 1 AM after a fucking six-months mission, you thought.

-"I...I can say the same for you ?" you try to flirt, but it sounds more like a question than a compliment.

-He laughs on the phone.

-Oh gosh how you love his laugh.

-"In fact I was trying to think of a clever way to ask you out, but it's late and my brain isn't functioning properly, love." He confesses.

-"oh" you say

-oh ? You really said oh to a fucking romantic confession at 1 AM, like in a dramatic romance movie ?

-"I DIDN'T MEAN OH ! I mean, yes, but not to your confession. It...Yes. yes." you say embarrassed

-He laughs again.

-"then we have a date."

-"yes."

-"I'll text you the information, good night, love."

-"good night."

-You didn't sleep at all this night.

-You were too stressed about the date, and too happy to have this date.

S O A P :

-"you won't believe me."

-"Soap, it's like 1 AM, why the fuck are you calling me ?" you answer sleepy.

-"I discovered this new recipe."

-"...so you decided to call me at 1 AM, for a recipe ?"

-"It's the best you'll ever hear."

-"...go on" you sigh.

-"You mix marshmallows."

-"Ok."

-"With nutella"

-you frown your eyebrows.

-"ok"

-"And bacon"

-"everybody is so creative." you say

-"What ?"

-"Soap you- wait, did you eat this ?"

-"YES ! It's so good, you have to try it."

-"It's 1 AM. Why did you try this ? Why calling me after, I...Soap are you okay ?"

-"I am."

-"you eat nutella, marshmallow and bacon mixed."

-"yes."

-"It's not what an okay person does."

-"Person with taste do that."

-"Yes person with taste and no taste bud."

-"You haven't tasted it yet."

-"And I won't."

-"...so me being in front of your door with this incredible midnight snacks is a no ?"

-"Soap you- I live like 3 hours from your flat."

-"I wanted you to try it !"

-"It's fucking creepy."

-"so you won't open the door ?"

-"I will. And I will throw this snack in a bin, cook a real snack, feed you with it, and call Price to have your taste bud check by a doctor."

-"I'm fine."

-"No, your tastes are horrible." you say

-"So you're insulting yourself."

-"What ? why ? I said your tastes are horrible not mine."

-"But you're my taste in human."

-You shut up.

-"did you-"

-"I'm trying to say you're my type, yes"

-"fuck I open the door."

-"Told you it was a game changer."

-"I don't open the door for your snack. I open for your ass"

-"that's mean."

K Ö N I G :

-You saw König calling you on your phone which surprised you because you know he hates talking on the phone.

-You immediately answer.

-"König ?"

-"...You're awake," he says relieved.

-"yes, are you okay ?"

-"Ja, I'm back home."

-"I see," you smile.

-You met König on a base. You're a trainer of detection dogs, so you often work with the army. Since this meeting, you both text each other a lot.

-"Do you want to talk about your mission or do you want me to vant about how annoying my day was ?" you ask as usual

-"I wanted to know if you're free now."

-"Well it's 1 AM, so yes."

-"I don't have any sugar, and I want to bake. But I can't. And I don't want to go outside."

-You know König bakes when he has anxiety, it helps him to relax. So if he wanted to bake, it would be probably because he needed it.

-"Ok, I'll be here in 30 minutes."

-"thanks."

-"But you let me eat the finished products."

-"of course," he laughs.

-You start to dress and put your shoes on.

-"What are you baking exactly ?" you say on the phone

-"Cookies."

-"that's one of my favorite snacks." you said while you put your sugar in your bag.

-"I know." König answers

-"you know ?" you repeat

-There is a silence.

-"I wanted to give you cookies tomorrow, but everything happened and..." he starts hyperventilating.

-"König, calm. Okay so you wanted to give me cookies but you felt a wave of anxiety coming, so you decided to bake them now, but you ran out of sugar" you summarize.

-"yes."

-"Can I ask why you want to give me cookies ?"

-"because it will be a good idea to picnic with you"

-"as a date ?" you ask.

-"yes."

-"well I hate picnics."

-"oh"

-"But guess what my favorite activity is ? Baking at 1 AM cookies. Guess you're a lucky guy."

-He laughs.

-"you just try to comfort me." he says

-"Does it work ?"

-"yes."

-"then we have a date."

G H O S T :

-"Simon" you answer on the phone.

-He doesn't add a word.

-You know why he is calling you.

-He has had nightmares.

-Every time, when he was not on the field and had them, he usually did nothing. But since he met you, he knew that focusing on your voice, helped him to not think, to just erase everything.

-"Do you prefer me rambling about my day or a funny anecdote ?" you ask.

-"your day." he says quickly, his voice is hoarse.

-"Well at work a grandma fought against a gym bro in the line. Because the guy was mean to my colleague, he said she fucked up his coffee just to have one free. Nothing unusual sadly. But the grandma started to snap at him. And we were scared because the gym bro was all muscular so if he decided to fight, the grandma would finish to the hospital, you know. And...she beat him up. She was like super strong. It was so cool. She was like Batman."

-You ramble again and again.

-Ghost just listens, every word was his anchor. Every word was a flow calming him.

-And until the sun rises up, you talk.

-It's his favorite thing about you, your voice.

-Maybe one day, he'll hear it saying sweet nothings to him.

-But for the moment, he'll focus on it and just feels at peace.

A L E X :

-"what's your favorite flower ?"

-"Alex it's 1 AM, what the fuck," you say on the phone.

-"What's your favorite flower ?" Alex asks.

-"Why do you want to know that and why now ?"

-"I have already asked you that during a break on a mission but you never answered the question."

-You frown your eyebrows.

-"It was like 2 months ago."you realize

-"yes, and ?"

-"And you ask me a question you have already asked me two months ago, on the phone at 1 AM ?"

-"yes."

-"...you have drunk Price coffee, isn't it ?"

-"...yes."

-"how much ?"

-"four cups."

-"you're still alive?"

-"I hear my heart. I don't know if it's normal."

-"Shit the fuck this man is drinking." you groan "Alex you know you can't drink his coffee, it could wake up the dead."

-"I know but I needed one."

-"Drink water. I'll come."

-"So you'll answer my question ?"

-"No, I'm coming so I can avoid you having a heart attack. The flowers are not important here."

-"even though I want to give you flowers for a date ?"

-"We'll see later, first your heart."

-"so it's a yes ?"

-"yes but first your heart Alex, focus damn."

He laughs.

A L E J A N D R O :

-"don't laugh." Alejandro says

-"How can I not laugh ?! You stuck on a stranger's balcony in panties, Alejandro."

-"Y/N."

-"Okay, okay. So tell me how it happened ?"

-"I was at my sister's flat. I was dressed up as a princess, because I was playing with my niece."

-Cute, you think.

-"And after few hours, my niece fells asleep, so I changed my clothes but while I changed I heard a meowing. So I checked, and a kitten was precarious on the balcony under my sister's flat. So I went through the window without thinking, using my phone as a flashlight, and I jumped."

-"And now you're in panties with a safe kitten but you can't go back to your sister's flat."

-"No, and I can't call her. I was supposed to babysit my niece because my sister and her wife are on a date, I don't want to bother them."

-"You didn't need to wear panties for a princess costume." you realize

-"I like to immerse myself in the character. If I cosplay someone, I take it seriously." he says firmly.

-You laugh at his determination.

-"Okay, but how can I help you ? I mean I can't teleport."

-"You can ring on the owner's flat, so he could open the door. I don't want to break in someone's flat. I'm not a criminal."

-"You fight the cartel everyday Alejandro."

-"It's not the same."

-"Okay, I'll come."

-After this you helped him. But you sent a picture to Rudy of Alejandro with the kitten and the panties.

If you want more, my COD masterlist : here.

And my masterlist : here.

#cod x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #call of duty x reader #alex keller x reader #mw2 x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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aquidragon · 1 year

Text

Compulsory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4902

Summary: There was no one you hated more than your ex-boyfriend Leon Kennedy, however, until he appears in your office after a long mission that changed everything.

Content Warning(s): smoking, reference to drinking, refrence to drugs, nsfw content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

(this is my magnum opus, I can die now)

---

You weren’t sure if there was anyone you hated more than you despised Leon Scott Kennedy. Even if you searched in the farthest corners of the universe, it would be hard for any living thing to somehow beat the burning, red-hot hatred that burned deep in your heart.

You also hated that there was no one else in the infinite galaxy that you could love more than you loved Leon. His presence was like a drug, pulsing throughout your entire body, fueling you with aphrodisiac. Your nerves tingled at the thought of him, the hair on your neck stood on end in remembrance of his warm touch on your bare skin. The scent of sandalwood, refined whiskey, and rust haunted your senses.

You couldn’t get enough, you craved him again, you wanted to feel him rushing through your veins again. You needed him to feel alive. The burning desire to be dependent on him again weighed heavily in your mind, your body and your soul. It was why you loathed him, why you never wanted to see his alluring, mysterious frozen ocean eyes again.

Leon had shattered every effective piece of your heart when he walked away, when you demanded him to stay. It had been a cold, stormy night, your clothes were soaked to your bones as you screamed at him. Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, mixing with the freezing droplets that fell from the heavens. His eyes held the same empty, hollow walls that you had fought so hard to tear down. You had reached into the abyss of his mind, every secret, every memory, every emotion that he felt was once at your fingertips.

Before you could grab a hold, you were forced out by a violent tsunami. Sealing away what was once yours, for what you assumed to be forever. Leon Scott Kennedy became a mystery to you once again, a stranger whom you never knew. You thought you had known him once, as well as he knew you, but you were wrong.

You saw him sometimes, walking the narrow hallways of the DSO building, in between assignments. His blonde hair and square shoulders lingered in the corner of your vision like a ghost. Occasionally, you’d catch cyan in your sight, as you briefly met his eyes. For seconds, you remembered when you were his, before it all crashed down to Earth. You’d tear your head away, cramming yourself in your work, unable to look at him any longer. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, a hot knife that tore through your chest, slicing you open; it made you vulnerable. Leon made you feel weak, powerless, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You hated him. You hated your own weakness.

You even had asked to be reassigned to a new agent, within the Field Operations Support, which you had been granted. Not many people within the DSO knew about your complicated relationship history with Leon, most people assumed you were just best friends who had a falling out. Sometimes, you wished that they were correct. It would’ve saved you years of heartache if the nature of your relationship with your former lover remained platonic. If the intimacy you had shared with the blonde agent continued at a surface level, far above the trench that pulled you both down deeper.

Maybe, you wouldn’t have drowned.

“Hey, did you hear about Kennedy's status?” The question that was directed at you felt muffled, your ears were underwater. You blinked, as reality set back in, and you turned to face your co-worker. Her perfect teeth peeked through her rouge-painted lips in a wide, ecstatic smile.

“Kennedy? He’s not in my detail anymore, remember?” You grumbled, finishing off the rest of your water bottle. “Why?” Ingrid Hunnigan was one of the few people who you told about your former relationship with Leon, who she often updated you about, much to your personal dismay.

“He successfully extracted Miss Graham, they’re landing back in the states in thirty.” She practically cheered, taking a celebratory sip from her hours-old fast food soda. “The president is thrilled, I hope that means a pay increase.” Hunnigan sang her excitement, as Leon’s direct communication agent, his accomplishment reflected well onto her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it.” You smiled at her, as you suddenly craved a cigarette.

Her excitement began to ebb away as she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know that talking about Leo-,” she hesitated, “-Kennedy isn’t easy for you.”

You chuckled, humorlessly, shaking your head. “I know this is a big deal for you, don’t sweat it. I’m fine.” You licked your lips, wishing you hadn’t finished your water. “You deserve a massive promotion, honestly.” You shut off your headset, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back.”

It was perfectly cool outside, you brought the paper stick to your lips, before beginning to light the white end of it. You had supposedly stopped smoking a year ago, alongside Leon, after creating a pact to quit. After you broke up, and an emotional breakdown at a bar, you gave into the compulsion. The hot, foul-smelling smoke fueled your lungs as you inhaled, and your built up frustrations rushed out with your exhale. “Shit,” you mumbled softly as you watched a familiar, private helicopter grace the horizon. You decided this warranted another puff from your cigarette, before stomping the butt into the pavement.

Although you were no longer one of Leon’s agents, Operation Baby Eagle required almost every Field Operations agent to be on deck. You had attempted to call in sick, but your impending rent payment had other plans. While you didn’t have any direct impact on the mission, you were still required to visually confirm Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham’s safe return from Spain.

You were grateful you didn’t have to verbally confirm with them, at the very least. With a longingly sigh, you walk back inside the building, to get ready to head to the airstrip. You stand beside Ingrid, alongside the president and a large party of other people you didn’t know to welcome Ashley and her rescuer. You tapped your foot, impatient, and perhaps a little anxious as you watched the helicopter slowly lower to the ground. The wind whipped up from the spinning blades causes your hair to loosen from the hairstyle you chose to wear it in, as dust gets into your eyes.

Within seconds, the aircraft’s blades slow to a stop, and the doors open. Leon exits first, his perfectly cut hair frames his angular face perfectly, his eyebrows remain in their permanent, serious position. You almost scoff at his overly stoic appearance, but you decided that that wouldn’t be very professional to do, feet away from the President of the United States. Ashley follows after her rescuer quickly, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her face lights up in a smile at the sight of her parents. Without a moment of hesitation, she rushes into the waiting arms of her father, sobbing as they embrace her.

You crack a smile at the sight, while Hunnigan is almost in tears. Your gaze shifts back to the blonde agent, who stands at attention a few feet away from you. Leon’s eyes are as distant as they always are, a solid cold blue, resembling ice. For a moment, you swore those same eyes met yours, but you weren’t sure. “Thank you, agent Kennedy, for bringing back my daughter safely. I’m forever indebted to you.” President Graham’s words are professional, while warm at the same time.

“Anytime, Mr. President.” Leon responded, in a mostly friendly manner. You can tell that he was exhausted, based on the heavy ring of purple that underlined his eyes, as well as the subtle sag of his shoulders. A large, loud part of you wanted to rush over, wrap your arms around him to take care of him. Like you would have if you were here, a couple months ago.

Ashley freed herself from her mother’s embrace, looking up at Leon with watery eyes, a grateful smile gracing her youthfully pretty face. “Thank you, Leon.” She hugged him, her arms wrapping underneath his arms, as she buried her face deeply into his chest.

“Take care, Ashley.” The blonde agent cracked a smile, returning her hug briefly. His head lifted to meet your eyes, and his smile fades. A pathetic, sad looking expression formed on his face, you smile anxiously, more akin to a grimace.

“We can talk more about paperwork and such tomorrow. Tonight, all of you go home. Get some rest, you deserve it.” Graham orders, his stern facade returning. “Good work, thank you.”

The crowd began to disperse, you yawn, as you walked back inside the building. You step into your office, as you begin to pack your stuff together, mentally noting a thanks to the president for gracing you with the ability to go home early. As you slid your bulky laptop into your work messenger bag, your door creaked open. “Hunnigan, I’m going home, we can go to Cowboy’s Tavern tomorrow. I’m fucking exhaust-” you look up, finally, and met the stormy blue eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy.

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Kennedy?” You spat out his name like venom, as your heart faltered. You felt sick, as he shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. “I’m pretty sure I remember that you made it clear you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.” You avoid looking at him, choosing to focus on the task at hand; gathering your stuff. “I thought we were in agreement there.”

He tiredly mumbled your name, standing a foot away from you, on the opposite end of your desk. “I know what I said, just please, hear me out.” Leon’s voice is weak, raspy, as if he hadn’t had water in days. He pleaded your name, finally forcing you to look up at him, apprehension burning through your head.

For once, in months, the frozen walls of his soul were gone. Leaving his blue eyes open, desperate, all of his feelings pouring out of his soul like a cascade. Your eyes widened, as your mouth fell open. In the brief time you spent with him, you had never seen him cry. Until that moment, in your office, standing before you with wet salty tears carved through the collected dirt on his face. His hands grabbed onto the oak surface of your desk tightly, you were sure that the wood would splinter underneath his touch.

“I know you don’t want to see me, or talk to me. I broke your heart and I deserve it.” Leon blurted, reaching out to grab one of your hands. Instinctively, you flinched, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him hold it, as he leaned over your desk. “I just needed to see you, I needed to know that you’re okay.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “Leon, I,” you cleared your throat, “where is this coming from?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now you come back into my office like this? What happened?” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, like a caged bird, desperate to fly free. You felt nauseous, as your stomach churned and your thoughts spun violently.

“I almost lost myself,” Leon admitted, vaguely. “They infected me, I couldn’t-” he paused, inhaling deeply. “The only thing that kept me together was you, thinking about you.” The blonde exhaled through his nostrils, in a strange laugh. “I realized I couldn’t live without you, I thought I was protecting you, but I put everyone in danger instead.”

You studied his expression, swallowing the ball that had wadded in your throat nervously. His handsome face morphed in multiple expressions; desperation, fear, grief, and pain. It looked like he was in agony, as his large, calloused hand tightened over your smaller one. “What are you talking about?” You stammered, you felt breathless. “Leon, please tell me.”

“In Spain, Ashley and I were infected by Las Plagas, a parasite, similar to a virus.” He strained his words, struggling to get them out. “It allowed us to be controlled by an outside force, fuck, it felt like I was on fire. I thought I was going to die.”

You opened your mouth, but you were at a loss of words. Instead, you allowed him to get closer, as you pressed your lips against his temple. You allowed your hatred towards him to be silenced, for a moment, to comfort him. To provide sanctuary to his tormented mind, to allow the part of you that still loved him to shine though. “You’re okay now, I promise.” You whispered, scooting to sit on your desk, gently petting his back. Your fingers trailing over the bumps of his spine, as his damp forehead pressed against yours.

As always, his skin radiated heat, as your bodies sat magnetized closer together. Your positives were drawn to his negatives, as your hearts fused together in an electrifying sense. You shut your eyes, as the same thrilling sparks that you craved for so long echoed underneath your flesh. His soft sobs evened out, as he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. Your name was rough, yet gentle on his tongue. His warm hands trailed over the curve of your waist, before coming up to cup your face.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Leon’s voice was like broken glass, as his thumb traced the skin below your eyes. “I thought if you hated me, loathed me, you would be safer. I didn’t think I needed you.” He trailed his lips against your forehead, before planting a kiss between your eyes. “God, I was wrong, please, forgive me.”

You straightened up on your desk, even from your position, sitting on the desk, he still towered over you. His body leaned over yours, as he held himself up, with both of his hands holding the end of the wooden oak. You felt him pull away, afraid that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had angered you more. For less than a heartbeat, you wanted to scream at him, for breaking you apart. However, the longing desire for the man that you loved so much to be yours again, even for a moment, washed away the hatred you had felt for him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your lips against his mouth. Leon’s pale rosy lips were chapped, and your nerves smoldered with him. Your lungs inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. As he returned your kiss, feverishly, you could taste the metallic indication of blood in his saliva. One of his hands pressed against your cheek bone, as he desperately tried to get closer to you. Your own palms traced over the firm muscles underneath his thin, stretchy, shirt.

He was almost overloading your senses, in the same way that he always did. You felt like you were going to collapse, as you steaded yourself with a hand by your hip. The other hand, found itself in his filthy ash-blonde hair, you didn’t care. You didn’t think you’d even care if he was covered head to toe in blood and rotten flesh. You missed him. You wanted him. You needed him. You wanted him to take over you, to melt into your body and permanently become a part of you.

As your lungs burned for oxygen, Leon’s mouth left yours, breathing heavily. “You’ve been smoking again.” He commented gruffly, trying to catch his own breath.

You huffed, in a hint of a laugh. “Got a problem with that?” You gasped as his lips pressed against your neck, effectively knocking you backwards. The curve of your spine rested against the uncomfortable oak surface, but you didn’t notice. Your nerves sparked wildly from Leon’s touch, as his chest leaned against yours.

“I thought I taught you better than that, sweetheart.” He murmured lowly against the shell of your ear. You hadn’t heard him call you that in what felt like decades, which made electricity shoot through your body, making you almost giggle with delight.

“Well,” you breathed, “you haven’t exactly been able to keep me on track.” You wheezed as he rested his body weight on one of his arms to use his spare hand to drift over your curves. His pupils dilated, and his breath heavy against your face.

“You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you, do you?” The blonde asked, almost patronizing you. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know what bars you’ve gone to every weekend, I know you drink yourself into oblivion every night.” He groaned, his teeth softly scraped against the tender skin on your neck. “If only you knew that, I ached for you every single time I thought about you.”

The thought of him watching you, from the shadows, when you weren’t paying attention made your brain spin with delight. You moaned as your fingers dug into his scalp, as he nipped at the flesh that joined your neck to your collarbone. “It almost hurt, y’know, that I couldn’t call you mine when I saw you with other people.” Leon pulled his face away from your body, looking down at you with blown, ocean eyes.

“Be mine, again.”

You exhaled sharply, as his gaze burned into yours. As he waited for your permission to go ahead, to continue what you both had started. Without a second thought, you yanked his hair down so he’d kiss you, in a passionate clash of your lips. He grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered as he melted into your mouth. Leon Kennedy was yours again.

As you kissed, your hands trailed down to his rough, black jeans, his erection strained against the thick fabric. You smirked against his lips as you fumbled with his leather belt buckle, before toying with the smooth button. He hissed once you freed his solid boner from his pants, as he squeezed your thighs in delight. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are, baby.” Leon panted, carnally, quickly tearing your work blouse over your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply.

You whimpered as his wet tongue traced the outline of your skin, over your bra, as his hands squeezed your biceps. “Jesus, fuck Leon, take off my bra.” You grumbled, desperate.

He gave you a wolfish grin, “your wish is my command.” Without another word, his teeth snagged the center of your bra, as his hands went undeath you to unclasp the back. Once the clasp was undone, he pulled the garment away from you with his teeth, before tossing it in an unknown direction in your tiny office. Goosebumps puckered across your skin as your sensitive nipples were exposed to the cool air, you shivered in delight.

Wordlessly, Leon climbed off of you to crouch at the end of the desk, his head between your feet. You sat up, confused, ready to ask him if he was done; before he used a firm hand to lay you back down. “Take off your pants and panties. Now.”

The commanding, desperate tone of his voice made your brain spin and heat pool between your legs. Without a single complaint, you yanked off your dress pants and panties. You made sure to aim the lacy undergarment at your partner’s head, who caught it with ease. Amused, he studied the fabric, before flinging it back to you. “Familiar.” Leon teased, before pulling your lower half over the edge of the desk.

You yelped as papers scattered onto the floor, as he held onto your ankles. Like a starving man, he buried his head in between your thighs, the hair on his head tickling your skin as his breath rushed against your swollen clit. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you groaned, as your head tilted backwards. Leon littered biting kisses alongside the underside of your upper thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded, smug eyes, before pressing a firm kiss against your sensitive bud.

You hissed in pleasure, as your toes curled inside your shoes. Your entire body flinched at the sudden, yet familiar feeling, as sparks began to echo from your pelvis. “I missed this, I missed you.” Leon murmured against your cunt as he dragged his tongue up the slit. You squeaked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. “You taste as good as I remembered, sweetness.” Two of his fingers slipped inside you as his lips remained on your clit. You arched your back, giving him easier access as he devoured you. Your hips jerked as your moans grew in pitch, your muscles clenched tighter with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

You cursed him and his ability to absolutely consume pussy. You almost thought he was attempting to eat you alive. You fruitlessly tried to grab onto something, to steady yourself, but all you could manage was crumpled up paper (that you hoped weren’t important) and sliding your fingers across the smooth surface of your desk. “Fuck! Leon!” You moaned as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, with ease.

Without intending to, the tightening sensation inside you suddenly snapped. You gasped, as white, blue and black sparked through your vision as you felt every nerve in your body explode. Like fireworks, scattered underneath your heated skin. Your jaw fell open as you grabbed ahold of Leon’s hair to steady yourself, making him hiss delightfully. He didn’t stop, instead, he continued to finger you as you rode out your orgasm. Monster.

As your high began to fade away, Leon pulled away from your soaked pussy. Covered in your own juices and his salvia. You could see the cocktail of his actions across the lower half of his face, reflecting the orange light of the sunset outside your window. You panted heavily, your arm resting on your damp forehead as he looked down at you, affectionately.

“Do you want to continue?” He asked, with a charming, gentle question. His lips pressing against your cheek, fingers filing through strands of your hair. You nodded, rapidly, as desire began to build back up throughout your body.

“Please,”

Leon grinned at you, before standing back up to completely undo his belt and pants. With an effortless move, he stripped his combat pants away, alongside his boxers. His dick was delightfully curved and thick. You had to force your eyes away from staring. Gently, he pulled your hips against his pelvis, as he stood at the end of the desk. He pressed the head of his erection against your prepared hole, and looked down at you.

You nodded encouragingly, with a smile, as he began to push himself inside you. You both gasped at the sensation, it felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. Leon let out a breathless moan, as he adjusted to the feeling of your heat around his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed out your name like a prayer, “you feel so good.” Without a second thought, he began to thrust inside you, as he began to rush through your veins.

Your body thrilled at the sensation of Leon Kennedy rushing through your skin again, you felt him inside every fiber of your being. Like a drug, an aphrodisiac, you could never get enough of it. You moaned out his name, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His forehead pressed against yours as your lips parted, looking into your lust hazed eyes. He groaned his desires to you, as his hands grabbed onto your hips tighter, nails digging into your plush flesh.

You didn’t just need him, he needed you too. In a knotted twist of fate that ensured that you could never live without him. You knew it meant the same to him as well, of course, as he pressed wanton kisses to the side of your face, whispering the words you loved to hear against your ear. You had never truly hated him, you realized, much to your own personal disdain. You had always loved him, even when you had denied it.

“I love you,” Leon moaned against your skin, in a raspy voice. “I always have, and I always will.”

You almost laughed in joy, but instead, you simply responded as breathlessly as he did, “I love you too.”

With a grunt, he came inside you, his hips pressed against yours, without an inch to spare between your bodies. With a wheezy chuckle, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he emptied himself deep within you. You pressed a kiss to his temple, soothingly stroking his hair as he came back down to Earth.

You assured yourself for as long as you lived, you would always be the person who knew Leon Kennedy better than you knew yourself. He would know you better than anyone as well, forever bound by the allure that drew you closer together. You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you knew damn well that there was no one else in the universe who you loved more than him.

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reblogs greatly encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennendy angst #re4r #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

Living Each Day Like You’re Already Dead | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬.

Kinktober masterlist.

Happy Halloween everyone!💕 This is my submission to the Bump in the Night collab. I hope you enjoy it, and that it kinda makes sense ahhh!

Summary: Moving into your dream home should’ve been an idyllic experience, until strange occurrences begin to happen. It seems like the former occupant doesn’t want you living here, or does he?

Pairing: ghost!Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, spectrophilia, intoxication, choking, blood!mentions, allusions to death/murder (not reader), cunnilingus, spanking, creampie, degradation, not proofread!

Word Count: 6.7k.

“Babe, where’d you get the creepy hologram in the bathroom? It's so realistic I literally thought someone was watching me pee.” Tatami scrunched her nose in distaste as she reached for another shot glass, pouring whisky into it before throwing it back with a shake of her head.

“What?” You raised a brow as you placed your drink on the kitchen counter.

“The dude in the mirror,” She slammed the shot glass down, “Right by your walk-in, I didn’t even wanna stare in the mirror when I was washing my hands.”

“You’re just drunk,” You laughed it off, shaking your head as you watched her refill the glass, “You screamed when the guy dressed as the killer clown came in.”

“Listen” She held her palm in the air, “That costume was way too fucking realistic and clowns are creepy okay?”

You tried to brush it off, but this wasn’t the first time that someone you’d brought home had complained about seeing things. The day you moved in, the removal company had only been working for a few hours before you heard stories of them seeing dark red eyes in what was going to be the master bedroom. One man was so spooked he dropped his end of your couch going up the stairs so it knocked into the wall, damage that the company were more than happy to compensate for but the man still refused to step back inside your home. You weren’t even upset about the damage to the wall, but you appreciated the hefty discount.

The next happened a few weeks later when you invited a date back to your home, a few glasses of wine led to heavy petting on the couch. His hand slowly slid beneath your dress when he stopped cold, wide eyes staring at the corner of your living room as you looked back to see nothing.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” You teased, trying to pull his lips back to yours as he stood from the couch.

He didn’t even utter a word before he was shouldering his way out of your new house, forgetting his hoodie in his haste as you tried to call after him. He never did call you back.

It made you not want to bring men home anymore, the embarrassment of being left high and dry after three dates had you feeling pathetic. The loneliness began to permeate your heart again as you stood alone in the hallway, wondering what it was you had done that would make him want to leave so abruptly.

You’d also noticed things had started to move around the home, certain you’d left a towel out for your morning showers but when you’d go to grab it, it would be gone. Your mug had d from his dedicated spot beside your kettle to the other side of the kitchen, sometimes even finding drawers or cupboard doors open. The creeks and whines that came with an old home helped ease your mind when the sounds began to echo at night, telling yourself that ghosts aren’t real as you tried to calm your racing heart and lull yourself to slumber.

“What if my house is haunted?” You murmured, thinking about the events that had occurred since you moved into the home.

You hadn’t discussed the history of the property when you’d started your lease, excited to find such a large house in such a nice area within your budget. Working with a third party meant you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the previous owners, and you hadn’t bothered to ask.

But even after living here for a few nights, you’d begun to have vivid nightmares that had you waking up in a cold sweat, chest heaving as you looked around the room to see if the killer was there. As though you’d really been there— you were her in the dream, lying back against satin sheets as you watched a man towering above you. Wielding a knife as he sent it plunging into your chest, over and over. But no matter how many times he stabbed you, and how damp the sheets became with your blood. You never died.

You’d chalked it down to being alone in a new home, so used to the dingy apartment you used to live in that was barely a box. With more space, and it being an older building the floorboards creaking and the wind howling managed to scare you more than it would’ve in your old home. Telling yourself shadows were a trick of the light, and nightmares were a trick of the mind.

But something always stuck out in every dream, something between the sea of blood as you fought to make out her face.

“Don’t trust him, he’s not what he seems.” A girl's voice would call out at the end of each nightmare, the precise moment before you’d jolt awake.

“Who’s drunk now?” Tatami scoffed, “You shouldn’t be trying to scare me when you’re dressed as an Angel. Isn’t that immoral?”

“I’m being serious.” You stroked the condensation from the side of your glass as you tried to think of something that would’ve indicated that something else was here.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tatami laughed, “Trying to shit me up on Halloween, I get it. Well, it won’t work this time-”

“Tatami, honestly-” You held your face in your palms as you whined childishly, hoping that recent events had just been a coincidence and there was a logical explanation for each one.

“We can burn some sage tomorrow or something if it’ll make you feel better.” Tatami smirked, “But first— shots.”

��I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The thought of another shot has your stomach whirring as you slipped past your best friend.

“Say hi to your friend up there for me,” She laughed as you weaved your way through the sea of people.

You blinked beneath the harsh fluorescent light of your bathroom as you stood in front of the sink, your hands clinging to the countertop as you tried to stop the room from whirling. You hadn’t drunk that much, so you were confused as to why you felt as though you were experiencing vertigo.

Glancing into the mirror there were no apparitions, no shadows, no eyes except for your own staring back at you. Your racing heart began to lull as you realised there was nothing here, releasing a sigh as you moved to leave your en-suite and go back to the party. Stepping back into your bedroom which was currently illuminated by your bathroom light as you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.

“The bathroom is downstairs, you’re not allowed up here.” You shouted, thinking that someone had gotten lost in their drunken stupor on the way to the bathroom.

But then the shadow flickered past your eyes again, a cool chill swirling past you even though the windows were shut as you felt your body begin to seize up with fear.

You wanted to call out, thinking it was Tatami or another partygoer trying to spook you. But it felt as though you were frozen, your legs felt like lead as your eyes roamed the room. The shadow moved closer as you felt it begin to loom over you, blinking frantically as you began to make out features.

Red eyes.

“Shit,” You hissed.

This couldn’t be happening, there was absolutely no way. You had to be drunk, there was no other explanation as you were unable to take your eyes off the man as he came closer.

“I’ve been watching you, sweetheart.” The sultry rasp of his voice had goosebumps creeping up on your skin, your heart hammering against your chest as the sight of him came into view, “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

The room grew cold the closer he came towards you, your eyes flickering towards the full-length mirror in your bedroom but there was no one else in the room. There were no reflections other than your own as you began to blink frantically, the alcohol in your system clearly impairing your consciousness.

“I’m so drunk, this isn’t happening.” You murmured to yourself before you gasped from the shrill cool of his hands against your hips permeating through the sheer fabric of your dress as he pressed you back, feeling your legs hit the edge of your mattress as you were shoved down on the bed.

“You think it’s not happening, sweetheart?” The man scoffed, “I’m heartbroken.”

“Who are you?” You mumbled, surprised when you felt the weight of him on top of you. The cold continued to permeate your body as you felt his hands ghostly against your sides.

“You don’t know me?” He whispered, “I know you— I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime.”

“How do you know my name?” You murmured, trying to mask your fear as you looked up at his face. He wasn’t someone you recognised, certain you’d never seen him before but something told you that he wasn’t being deceptive.

That he knew exactly who you were.

“You look like someone I used to know.” His thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he curled his fingers around your neck, ignoring your question.

“Who?” You asked in confusion.

“Just someone-” His pupils dilated as he felt as though he was staring directly into your soul, his hand tightening against the column of your neck as you shifted beneath him.

“The girl that used to live here?” You hummed.

The man gripped even tighter at the mention of her, the girl you’d seen in your dreams. Trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle as you thought back to the last dream you’d had, the one where she was laying down in a bed covered in blood.

“Yeah, her.” He smiled almost wistfully as you felt a rush of cool air against your lips as he came closer.

“Did she die in my house?” You were scared to ask the question, but you wanted answers.

“Your house? You mean my house, sweetheart.” He grinned, “I never left.”

The words had your blood running cold, he’d always been here, ever since you moved in.

“Did she die in here?” You tried again.

“Yeah… she did.” He mumbled.

“Did you kill her?” You regret the words as soon as they left your lips, his red eyes narrowed as he squeezed your neck tight.

“Me?” He snarled, “Did I kill her?”

“I know you think she-” You began, but he was quick to cut you off.

“You don’t fuckin’ know shit,” He snarled, moving closer to you as he looked down at you with dangerous eyes, “You’re just like all the rest, but I’ll show you the truth, you’ll see-”

You felt the energy begin to darken at your question, clearly hitting a sore spot inside him as for the first time you realised how much his hulking frame towered over you. Making you feel completely helpless.

“She tried so hard to make me into a villain, so I became the monster.” Bakugou rasped.

Thinking back to all the dreams you’d had where you’d been beneath him, trying to remember the eyes staring down at you but all you could feel was pain. Your eyes roamed the scratches that covered his body, scratches left by his lover before he’d murdered her.

“He’s the devil in disguise.” The girl in your dreams would call out to you before you woke up.

“My sweet Angel,” His hand reached out to touch the halo that sat above your head as part of your Halloween costume, “She wore a similar costume the night she died.” He murmured, watching his jaw lock at the memory as he pursed his lips.

That had to have been the girl in your dreams, the one dressed in white and covered in blood. The thought had your heart racing as you tried to decide if there was enough time for you to run, but could you really outrun a spirit?

“What’s your name?” You mumbled, watching his lips curl into a smile.

“Bakugou.”

You tried to place the name, but it felt like one that you’d never heard before. Even in your dreams, the girl would never address the man by name, so you wondered whether it was Bakugou she was talking about.

“Were you the one my boyfriend saw that night?” You thought back to your date with Monoma, where he’d left your apartment screaming, his face deathly pale as he ignored all your texts moving forward.

“Boyfriend? He didn’t deserve you, none of them did.” Bakugou continued, “You’re perfect, too perfect...”

His hands smoothed over your dress, his thumbs stroking against the curve of your breasts as your nipples began to pebble beneath the cold chill of his touch. A soft gasp left your lips as his hands travelled lower, slipping beneath the sheer fabric as he began to push it up your thighs.

“My perfect Angel.” He hummed.

“What’re you doing?” You mumbled, your palms reaching up to push him back to find with surprise you could touch him. It was like a cool wall of muscle as you pressed against him, but he didn’t move an inch.

“What I’ve been thinking about doing for weeks,” He growled, “Having to watch all those other pricks put their hands on you when it should’ve been me.”

“You— you were the reason they left.” The realization dawned on you that he was the one that was making all those men leave, your boyfriend, friends, the movers—

“Course, I was. You think I was gonna stand around watching those fuckers do whatever they want to you? They weren’t good enough for you. You’re mine now.” He scoffed, your blood ran cold at the tone of his voice, “You were mine from the second you stepped into my house. You won’t leave me like she did—”

“But you killed her?” You mumbled, scrunching your nose in confusion as you stared up at him.

“I didn’t kill her, sweetheart.” He shook his head, “She sealed her own fate.”

But if he didn’t kill her, what happened? He was covered in her blood and she was bleeding to death in the reoccurring dream you’d been having since entering the home.

“I was stupid back then, I let love cloud my judgement. But I’m not the same man anymore.” He snarled, “I don’t ask anymore, I take.”

His palm cupped your sex roughly, causing you to gasp in surprise at the cold chill, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to conceal the heat beneath radiating from you as Bakugou groaned low and deep in his throat.

“You can’t escape now,” His palm squeezed slightly in warning, smirking as he felt your body curve into his touch, “Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into this house.”

“Please,” You gasped as you felt him press against your clit, your body betraying you as slick began to dampen the fabric.

“Don’t act shy now, princess.” He cooed, his thumb pressing soft circles against your clit through your panties, “I know you could feel me watching you,”

You thought back to the times in the property when you’d convinced yourself it was a trick of your eye or paranoia taking over when you were home alone, ignoring any signs that there could’ve been something else in the house.

You didn’t believe in ghosts.

“When you were showering, walking around the house in these pretty little panties.” He pinched the elastic as it snapped against your hips, “When you were touching your sloppy little pussy. You sound real pretty when you cum, you know?”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he mentioned he’d always been watching you, embarrassment flooding your system and making you feel scorching hot even beneath his cool touch at the realisation he’d seen you completely vulnerable already.

“But I couldn’t reveal myself to you, not yet.” He growled, “Not when she was still here.”

The vivid dreams you’d had each night of her death had your tummy swirling, wondering if this was the night where you’d suffer the same fate. She’d tried to warn you in those dreams, she told you to leave the house, but you didn’t listen.

You should’ve listened.

“You’ll never leave me, will you?” He whispered, finally closing the gap to press his lips to yours in a salacious kiss, “You’re mine now forever.”

“She said you were the devil in disguise,” You murmured weakly against his lips, watching the wild fury appear in his eyes as he snarled down at you, his hand tightening its grip around your neck as you felt him squeezing roughly.

“She paints me as the devil when all of this is her fault, she did this. Not me—” He growled.

You wondered what he meant by that when he was the one that murdered her.

“We were going to get married, start a family, grow old together but she fucked it up. She did this.” He continued, “I know you’ve been talking to her. Fuckin’ bitch.” He spat.

You felt the fear continue to grow inside you the more irate he became, his grip tightening as the air slowly began to leave your body, feeling yourself becoming lightheaded as your lashes fluttered.

“Don’t believe a fuckin’ word she says,” He loosened his grip, “You’re nothing like her, are you?”

You began to cough and splutter as he let go of your neck, sucking in gulps of oxygen as you felt yourself coming to.

“You’d never leave me.” Bakugou’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of your panties as he pulled them down your thighs, letting the fabric drop to the floor as he moved his thumbs to your outer labia. Spreading you open as he caught sight of the messy slick stringing against your folds as more leaked from your tight entrance.

“You wanna say you don’t want me back when you’re fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart?” He grinned, “I don’t like liars.”

Bakugou pressed his thumb to your tight entrance as he watched it disappear inside you to the first knuckle, curling it inside you as it brushed against your inner walls. Pulling the air from your lungs as you bucked into his touch, the dull ache began to brew in your pelvis as he watched with intrigue.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, “I know you like it, sweet girl.”

He began to lower himself onto the mattress as his cold breath fanned against your slit, cooling your slick against your skin as you shivered. Bakugou’s lips curled into a grin as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your clit, your body jolting in surprise as the cool chill hit the sensitive nub.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He hummed, “I thought you were like her, but you ain’t.”

Groaning as he inhaled deeply, surrounding himself with the scent of you as his tongue slipped out to drag through your slit, tasting you as he felt your walls clenching around his thumb.

“You’re so much better.”

Before you had a chance to respond to him Bakugou was already devouring you like a man starved, his lips wrapped around your clit as crude slurping noises began to fill the room. Overpowering the noise from the loud thrum of bass from the party downstairs as you wondered whether Tatami might come to find you and if she’d even be able to see him like you could.

This had to be another dream, there was no way that this was real.

This was wrong, you didn’t want this. There was something about his cold touch on your skin that made bile rise at the back of your throat as pearly tears began to leave silvery lines against your skin as they trickled down your temples and onto the soft sheets beneath you. Clinging to your lashes and obscuring your vision as the spirit of a man so callous used you for his own pleasure. You hated the way your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as you willed him to touch you more, to have you coming undone in his arms.

But you couldn’t deny the ache he caused between your thighs, the ferocious desire brewing inside you at how badly he wanted you, needed you. The knowledge that he’d been the one watching you all this time, warding off any other men that may come between you. Your body burned at the thought of him watching you in your most intimate moments, trying to get yourself off as you furiously rubbed your clit, working yourself towards your climax. You wondered whether he touched himself while he watched you, whether he met his own end to the thought of you.

“Oi,” Bakugou growled, pinching your clit roughly as your body jolted to bring your attention back to his, “Stay with me, sweetheart.”

His teeth nipped your clit as your body spasmed in surprise, thighs clamping down around either side of his head before you pulled back from the shrill cool of him. His tongue slid through your slick lower until he came to your tight entrance, moving his thumb so he could push his tongue inside you as deep as it could possibly go. Crudely flicking it so it nudged your sensitive walls as you reached your hands down to thread through his messy spikes, surprised you could feel the silvery wisps through your fingers as you tugged.

“Please stop, don’t—” You whimpered. A feeble attempt to try and get him to pull away from you, to stop. But your body betrayed you, rolling your hips into his touch as he gathered your fresh slick on the pad of his tongue.

“Don’t act like you don’t want it when your pussy is this fuckin’ honest,” He snarled, spitting down onto your slit as he moved to run it through your folds, “Told ya I don’t like liars.”

He moved his attention back to your clit as he wrapped his lips around it, lashing the tip of his tongue against it as he began to suck hard. Catching you off guard as he pressed two fingers deep inside you to the hilt, not allowing you a moment to adjust before he began a brutal pace. Curling the digits as they pressed against the spongy spot inside you, as though he already knew the exact spots and places to touch that would have you slipping into ecstasy. His moans sent pleasurable vibrations directly to your clit as he worked you towards your climax.

Bakugou should’ve felt guilty, ruining your delicate body with such little care, watching as you allowed fear to consume you as you submit yourself to him. His fingers pressed sultry circles against your clit as you made more saccharine sounds for him, your creamy sex dripping with need because of him. But there’s no way you’d want anyone else after him, it’s selfish, but he wouldn’t allow it. You were his now, and you would always be his.

“You’re so easy,” Bakugou scoffed as you whimpered when he pulled away from your puffy nub, “Thought you’d put up more of a fight, but I guess you’re just desperate to get yourself off, or are you scared?”

You were. You were petrified. Your soaked cunt clenching around nothing at his callous words as he pinched your folds together,

And yet at the same time, you were completely mystified by this entity. He’d made you feel more wanted and desired than any guy you’d been with before, and the fear that he could harm you with ease only seemed to add to the allure.

The sensation was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, your eyes flickered over to the full-length mirror as you seemed to be alone on the bed, the man above you held no reflection as you tugged at his hair. Trying to gauge whether this was all just another one of your vivid dreams or if it was really happening. Bakugou snarled against your clit at the movement as his teeth grazed the sensitive nub, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“You want everyone to hear what a slut you are for me, hah?” He grinned, “Too bad they wouldn’t live to remember it, you’re mine.”

The threat, even though it wasn’t directed at you, had your walls throbbing in a mixture of excitement and fear. A movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the supernatural being above you.

“You like that?” He scoffed, “Cause you know I would— I’d kill for you.”

And there was something in the tone of his voice that told you he was being completely truthful. Especially when he’d done the same to his previous lover, the fact that you believed even now that he could watch you take your final breath.

You gasped as he brought your attention back to him, curving his large palms around the fat of your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, keeping you spread wide open as thick fingers dug into the meat of your skin. Sliding the flat of his tongue through your folds as he gave a long, languid lick. Your hips bucked erratically as he deliberately avoided your clit, repeating the motion again and again as every so often he dipped the tip of his tongue inside your fluttering walls. His teasing was driving you insane, as fresh slick began to ooze from your overstimulated cunt, feebly trying to use the grip on his hair to pull him towards your clit. Your halo fell off against the plush pillows as he smirked up at you from between your thighs.

“I thought you didn’t want this, sweetheart.” He spoke against your folds, “But here you are practically begging me to get you off.”

Here you were beneath him, so compliant and responsive. It had his cock throbbing with desire as he subtly rolled his hips against the mattress, continuing to feast on your cunt as you writhed beneath him.

“Do you want to cum?” He snarled.

“I— oh my god,” You couldn’t think straight, still unable to believe this was really happening as Bakugou bullied two thick fingers inside your dripping hole. Immediately curling them towards the spongy spot inside you as he waited for your response. His cool breath fanning against your sensitive nub as your slick cooled and dried against it, making you squirm beneath him as you tried to form the right words.

“Answer me,” He spat, his other hand tightening its grip against your thigh almost painfully, “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes—” You cried out abruptly, the fear still prevalent inside you, “Yes, yes. I want to cum. I need to cum.”

You could feel tears beginning to cling to your thick lashes as Bakugou dove straight back into your messy cunt, his lips immediately latching on to your puffy clit as he sucked hard. The sudden movement had you thrashing beneath him as you let out a shrill cry, your toes curling in the heels you were wearing as you came undone. Your climax was earth-shattering as you could only feel blinding pleasure coursing through your veins, even with the cool chill of Bakugou surrounding you, you still felt scorching hot.

“That’s it,” He growled, pulling his fingers from your slick heat to delve his tongue back inside you for a taste. Collecting your juices against the flat of it as he groaned deep in his throat, cherishing the feeling of your walls continuing to flutter around him in the aftermath of your climax.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you cum, has anyone told you that?” Bakugou murmured as he pulled away from your slit, pressing wet sloppy kisses on the apex of your thigh as he pulled back, “I could go another eternity with only that image in my mind.”

You thought that was it, that he’d disappear and you could leave. But instead, he moved onto his knees, translucent hands moving to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down his hips. You watched as he slowly revealed his thick cock to your eyes, the mere thought of him fitting inside you had your cunt swirling in anticipation. No longer a way to tell whether this was a dream or reality as rough hands flipped you over as though you weighed nothing, something that terrified you as he pulled you up onto your knees as you leaned on your forearms.

“Oh fuck,” He groaned, hands ghosting against your ass as he pulled your cheeks apart, “Everything about you is better than her. It’s as though you were what I was waiting for all this time.”

What did he mean by that? You still were unaware of the reason why his spirit was trapped inside this house, why he hadn’t been able to move on and whether the girl he spoke about was the one covered in blood you witnessed in your dreams.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarled, smoothing the fat tip of his cock through your messy folds as you felt it catch against your tight entrance, pushing forward as he failed to breach you as his tip nudged against your clit. Your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you at the motion as he pulled his hips back to try again, “You’re so tight.”

A dull ache began to ebb inside you as he pushed more of himself inside your slick walls, stretching you out around his cock as large palms gripped your plush ass. Squeezing roughly as he reached back to land a resounding smack on your cheek, watching it ripple beneath his touch as the movement had your body moving forward, pulling yourself off his length as his grip sought to pull you back.

“Shit, this fuckin’ pussy is perfect.” He groaned, giving you a moment to adjust before he began a rough pace.

The sensation was indescribable, like nothing you’d ever felt before as you felt the heat of your most intimate place mix with the cold of him. His thick cock pressed against the ridges of your walls perfectly as he filled every inch of you, moving deeper and deeper with each rough rut of his hips as you felt his tip hitting the barrier inside you, heavy balls knocking against your clit with every forward motion.

“S’too much,” You slurred, wincing slightly as you felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, “I can’t.”

“But yet you are,” Bakugou snarled, rough hands reaching around your body to tug the top of your dress down, “My perfect little Angel.”

Bakugou’s hands groped your bouncing breasts, pinching your taut nipples between thumb and forefinger as you cried out beneath him, turning your face to the side to see the slightest flash of red as he continued plunging into your tight cunt.

“That’s it,” He groaned, “Watch those pretty faces you’re makin’ for me.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust to watch your face contort in pleasure as he smirked down at you, the crude slap of skin against skin filled the room and it made you wonder whether this was really a dream. Maybe you’d drunk too much and you were sleeping with a cute guy from the party— but you couldn’t fool yourself, this was different, supernatural.

“Bakugou,” You gasped, his thick cock dragging against your inner walls perfectly as he knocked against the sensitive spot inside you with a harsh thrust of his hips. Already feeling the first signs of your impending climax as you began to tremble around his length.

“Katsuki,” He grunted, squeezing your hips for emphasis, “Want you to call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” You repeated, the name sliding off your tongue as you broke into another sultry moan.

“Fuck, just like that, sweet girl.” He choked back a moan as he increased his pace.

It was all you could do to lay there and take it, fingers curled into the sheets as the thrusts you tried to make were no match for his brutal pace.

“I know you want to cum, sweetheart.” He grinned, his chest swelled with pride as he heard more of the pretty noises that spilt from your lips, “Can feel ya squeezing my cock.”

One of his thumbs pressed against your tight asshole as large palms kept you spread open for him, feeling the rim flutter against his touch at the foreign sensation as you began to shake beneath him.

“Oh fuck,” You felt your body give out as your legs shook violently at the height of your climax, “Katsuki.”

“Fuck, that’s it.” He grunted as he felt your walls begin to convulse around him, collapsing onto your chest on the mattress as he followed you down. His body was heavy on top of yours as he continued his harsh pace, his rough movements helping you to ride out your climax as he began to send you hurtling towards another.

The cool sensation of his chest pressed to your back was almost comforting as he pressed soft kisses against the apex of your neck, shifting his hips to change the angle as you continued to moan beneath him.

“Got no damn idea how good this pussy is,” He groaned, lifting himself off your back as he wrapped a hand back around your neck to pull you up with him.

The rough movement had you throbbing around his cock as he began to piston his cock in and out of you. Your eyes flickered to the reflection where you could now see the man behind you, his body completely covered in blood as you noticed the thick, deep scratch marks on his arms. As though someone had been clawing at him to get away from him, blinking as the sheets turned a dark crimson beneath you.

“Please-” You gasped, trying desperately to move your body forward, to get away from him as he kept his hands tight against your neck.

You tried to scream, but only a dull sound escaped your lips as his hand tightened around your throat, feeling his lips curl into a smirk beside your ear as he used your body for his own pleasure.

“I know you’re gonna cum again, princess. I can feel you clamping down on my cock.” He grinned, “You love this, don’t you?”

You couldn’t respond, the mixture of pleasure swirling in your pelvis and the lack of oxygen was making you lightheaded again. With nothing you could do in this position except take it as he fucked you towards another climax. His other hand slid down your tummy to slip between your thighs, pressing rough, sloppy circles against your puffy clit.

“Oh shit, that’s it.” Bakugou groaned as he felt you fall into pleasure, continuing to fuck you through it, his fingers consistent against your clit “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You allowed yourself to succumb to the white-hot pleasure coursing through you, your climax crashing down around you in a sudden tsunami as you thrashed beneath Bakugou. Your pliant cunt gushing around him like the waves against the shore as he continued to keep his rough pace. Your walls burned from the abuse as he worked himself to his own end, each forward motion had Bakugou fucking his cum deeper inside your creamy pussy until he came to a slow stop. His hands splayed against your sides as he leaned down to press a soft, sweet kiss against your pouty lips.

Your body convulsed as you rode out your climax before you became slack against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as half-lidded eyes continued to stare into your reflection in the mirror.

“Been thinkin’ about filling this sloppy pussy with my cum for the longest time,” He groaned, his cock throbbing inside you as he neared his own release, “Had to stop myself from doing it while you slept. I wanted to see those pretty eyes when I was doin’ it.”

You couldn’t argue, already submitting to your fate as you felt Bakugou give a few more sharp thrusts of his hips against your ass, his fingers flexing against your jugular as he came inside you with a grunt. A swift burst of something cool erupted inside you as you felt it stick to your inner walls, surrounding you with the sensation as Bakugou’s pace began to falter as he filled you with his release. Rough grunts left his parted lips as his cold breath against your skin made you shiver, leaving a trail of goosebumps against your skin.

“You’re mine forever now, Angel.” Bakugou whispered as you felt yourself beginning to pass out, the last wisps of oxygen finally leaving your lungs as your body went slack against him, “We don’t need anyone else, it’s just you and me-”

You woke up the next morning sore, the early morning sunlight blinding as it shone through your windows, the blinds completely open as you held a hand up to shield yourself from the harsh rays. A harsh cough left your body as you reached over to your bedside table to grab your water bottle as you took a huge gulp of the tepid liquid, feeling it burn as it flowed down your throat.

A dull ebb throbbed between your thighs as you began to remember the vivid dream you’d had last night, starting to wonder whether it had really been a dream at all or whether it had actually happened. Shaking your head at the foolish thought as you got yourself up enough to sit on the edge of your bed. You were still dressed in your clothes from the night before, wondering whether instead of the dream the throb between your thighs had been caused by a drunken fumble at the party last night, wondering if the man was still somewhere in your home or had at the very least left his phone number.

Standing up from your bed as the whole room began to spin, as you took a second to ground yourself. Holding onto your dresser before you began to pad into your en-suite bathroom, moving towards the sink to splash some soothing water onto your face.

Standing back up straight is when you noticed it— the darkened bruises around your neck, almost seared into the skin as you reached up to press against them. Gasping in surprise at the painful pulse from them as you began to try and piece together what had happened last night, you’d never been so drunk you’d blacked out before, and you definitely hadn’t drunk enough to make you pass out.

The same name you remembered from your dream began to echo in your mind as you clutched the side of the bathroom sink, replaying the previous night's events.

Bakugou Katsuki.

Padding back into your bedroom you grabbed for your cellphone, ignoring the low battery warning as you unlocked it to pull up your search engine, typing the same name into the search bar as you added your location after it. Bleary eyes glanced down at the bright screen as you waited for the results to load before clicking the first article at the very top.

Gasping in surprise when the image loaded of the same man that you’d seen in your dreams last night, a messy mop of rusty blond hair with piercing red eyes. Scrolling lower as you began to read the article.

Jilted lovers end in murder on Halloween.

Police attended the home of Bakugou Katsuki on the night of October 31st 1985 after neighbours filed reports of arguing inside the home. The body of Bakugou’s girlfriend Uraraka Ochako was found in a pool of blood in the master bedroom with the cause of death being determined as asphyxiation after being strangled to death. Bakugou, who is thought to be the victim's boyfriend, stabbed Uraraka thirteen times before fleeing the scene. Later the police arrived at the house of Midoriya Izuku, an acquaintance of the couple, to find Bakugou Katsuki dead at the scene.

Midoriya is said to have killed Bakugou in self-defence, driving to the scene of the original murder to try and save the life of Uraraka but unfortunately, he was too late. Musutafu News has reached out to Midoriya Izuku for comment on what might have made this loving boyfriend of six years murder his girlfriend on Halloween, but we have not received a response.

Was it jealousy that turned this young man to murder? Or was something more sinister afoot?

Bakugou Katsuki may have taken this truth to his grave.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugou smut #Bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #bump in the night collab 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🔪#tw:dubcon #trigger:dubcon

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oldgayjew · 3 months

Text

The set-up and reasoning behind ChinaJoe's dictatorship ...

#bjb oldgayjew prophecy's shout #history's ghost - screaming - again #bjb oldgayjew #barsefrin - the elder #bjb - barsefrin #john galt bjb

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asumofwords · 7 months

Note

So I see you’re going to open up requests soon??? 👀

Lemme just put this one there to marinate because some of the asks have really put the thought in my head with no sign of it leaving me be.

Spooky season is coming!!!!

I rewatch the Haunting series on Netflix every October so I’m kinda feeling a Bly Manor type possession fic. SFA one shot or not, but Aemond’s dead and they were definitely in love. When reader moves on after his death and eventually meets someone she can fall in love with again, maybe she brings him home and Aemond possesses her new man just so he can fuck her again. Bonus points if she doesn’t know the first few times but keeps wondering how her new boo knows exactly what she likes before Aemond finally reveals himself and ultimately, she lets it continue because she gets her Aemond again.

Just some thots

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Death, murder, sadness, depression, thoughts of suicide, talks of blood and gore, moving on, haunted estate, possession, fear, anger, smut, chasing, blood, choking, slapping, fucking, creampie, degradation, rough sex, angry sex, dub-con, slight non-con, confusion, grief, Cregan being possessed by your late husband, spooky vibes.

Pairings: Ghost!Aemond x Reader / Aemond Targaryen Possession Fic, Cregan Stark x Reader, Possessed!Cregan x reader

Notes: Look.... I'm such a Cregan Stark slut, I'm gonna throw him in wherever I can... Hope you enjoy!!!! Hehehe, I hope I have done your request some justice!!! I really enjoyed writing this <3

Aemond Targaryen was a man that could not be summarised by mere words. You didn’t believe that you could ever find enough of them to describe him, if any could come close to it. He was kind, quiet at times, calculating, but passionate. And that was why you had married him. His passion for you was so strong it almost burnt, the flames of it constantly flickering over you like fire.

You had been married for some time, meeting at University, Advanced History and the Politics of Old, and instantly falling for the quiet man who had sat up the back, hand constantly writing notes on paper. He had this charm that surrounded him, and the day you had gotten the courage to ask him out, pacing in front of your mirror all morning, practising the words over and over in your head and aloud, he beat you to it, seemingly having done the same thing.

You were married a year later, a quick turn around, but happy with bliss and the love that you had for each other. Years flew by together and eventually you began to plan for a child, and Aemond in his excitement, invited his family over to announce this to them. His mother, unbeknownst to him, invited his half-sister Rhaenyra, her children, and her husband, Daemon; A man Aemond had once admired, but now despised.

And because of this, tragedy struck.

At first the evening went well, but with the presence of his nephew, Lucerys, the boy who had taken his eye in an accident at a young age, Aemond’s anger simmered that night between him and his uncle, Daemon, and with the alcohol that flowed heavily from the table during your celebrations, a fight broke loose.

You could still see it. Still see it move behind your eyelids like a film, slow motion, then quick, then slow again.

Aemond’s fist flying into Daemon’s cheek, a man much taller and broader than your husband. You had shot up from your chair to reach them, but Alicent had held you back whilst Rhaenyra tried to pull her husband away from her half-brother, who Daemon knelt over, fist after fist striking the younger mans face. You had screamed when Daemon was finally pulled up and away by his angry wife, concern thrown down to her estranged sibling, her violet eyes roaming him for injury.

But your Aemond, your sweet, sweet Aemond, head strong and stubborn as he was, didn’t know when to stop, and so, jumping up from the ground, face bloodied and lips bleeding, Aemond’s hand had snatched a steak knife from the table, charging for Daemon, who pushed Rhaenyra out of the way.

The next thing you knew, Aemond lay lifeless on the floor, knife in his unseeing eye, blood pooling on the floor around him. You had screamed and ran to him, sobbing over his corpse as Daemon stood in shock, looking at his now bloodied hand whilst Alicent blinked down at her son.

Daemon went to jail, a short term for murdering your husband, self defence they had said, since Aemond made the first move and grabbed the knife. And whilst Daemon sat in a cell, visited by his children and wife, you were left alone in the large estate that you had together, bereft with grief and uncertain if life would ever move on without him.

You had thought about it, once or twice, grabbing a razor or taking one too many of the pills the doctors had prescribed for your debilitating depression, or perhaps reaching beneath the sink to grasp at Aemond’s old pain medication and taking the entire lot. But each time you thought of it, you just couldn’t do it. Too cowardly to go forward with it, which almost always ended with you on the floor where he had died, sobbing into the flagstones.

It had been five years when you met him, five years when you decided to get back out into the world. Or not really decided, more like forced to by Helaena, Aemond’s older sister, who had been your life boat through grieving the loss of her brother. She had told you that Jacaerys, her nephew she had no qualms with despite the family tension, had a friend that you would get along with. Someone kind and gentle, and so far away from being anything like Aemond, that it was a safe bet.

And so one night of a blind date with Cregan Stark, Helaena and her girlfriend Cassandra joining as a buffer, turned into two, which then turned to three, then four, until soon enough, you were falling for the man.

He was courteous. Tall and broad, with long, dark hair and a short beard, or more like stubble that had been left untouched for days on end. He had kind grey eyes, that looked like a winters storm that swirled each time he gazed at you.

And he was different. That’s what you likened as to why you liked him.

He was the complete opposite of Aemond.

Where Aemond was fiery and warm, Cregan was cool and patient, always waiting for you to make the first step. Whenever you would fight, if at all you would manage to get him to react, it would always end with him apologising to you.

Even when you were in the wrong.

That was one thing you hated about it.

He would never rise to your goading, never rise to the bait you would set for him to flare his temper. Sure, he would get angry, his wild grey eyes alight with something, but it would pass as soon as a storm, and he would leave to walk it out, or ask for space.

You missed how it had been with Aemond. How you could goad him into anger, to have him fold you over any surface and have his way with you, rutting into you violently and cruelly, as he ripped peak, after peak from you, until you begged for mercy, tears falling down your cheeks.

But Cregan was different, softer, sweeter, and not at all like your hot headed late husband.

And this, you were thankful for.

In some ways at least.

It had been over a year of dating when you finally asked him to move into the estate with you. He lived awhile away, and you were alone in a house that had close to a hundred rooms and only memories to haunt you. It only felt right to fill it up with one more person.

The estate was old, and although Aemond had died within its walls, you just couldn’t leave it.

You were stuck.

Feeling drawn to its stones and halls, and even the mere thought of parting with it made you breathless.

Though, there was something about the old estate that made your skin crawl.

It had always made you uncomfortable, and it was something that you had voiced to Aemond upon many a times, and he would always assure you, that they could not touch you, whoever they were.

But something was different.

Something had changed in the years past since Aemond had died.

Helaena had once come to the estate, months after the fact, and gone pale, looked right past you as though she was looking at someone there. But when you had turned, there was no-one. Not a soul, or wisp, or a particle. Just air.

But it was cold. And Helaena had told you, whilst staring behind, that Aemond would always be with you.

But you knew he would. You had his memories, his photos, his clothes that you had folded in trunks in the attic, or the blanket that still smelt very much like him that you would curl into on lonely nights and breathe in his scent.

Of course he would always be with you.

He was your first love.

But there was something about the estate.

You just didn’t know what.

It didn’t help that no matter what you did, you felt like you were being watched. But the building was as old as the hills, and your therapist had told you it was likely just your hyper observance and PTSD to blame.

There were no ghosts in the house, no ghouls or monsters. It was just you.

You and the empty walls, and halls that used to house his voice, and his smile, and his laughter.

You were lonely, that much was sure, and although you loved Cregan, you truly did, it would just never match the love you and Aemond had. Not that you were comparing the two to each other in that way. Aemond was fire, Cregan was ice. They were both two very different people who loved in two very different ways. And you knew, much to your grief, that it was time to move on.

Time to move forward with your life.

And so you did. With Cregan. And that feeling of being watched only amplified. The feeling of heat on the back of you neck, being watched wherever you went, multiplying by tenfold with Cregan’s now permanent presence.

The rooms would suddenly get cold, to the point that he had even noted it, but had explained it away; His home back in Winterfell was older than this estate, and it too had cold spots in it.

It didn’t mean anything, it was just the old buildings, with old drafts, and terrible old insulation.

But something felt off since he moved in.

You always felt like you were being watched but it had changed to something more angry. Like something was always in the corner of your eye when with him, especially when intimate. But Cregan, with this kind eyes and unbendable patience, listened to your worries, and ensured you that it was fine, and even if there was an entity in the estate, it could not touch you, nor harm you, and probably didn’t even know you were there, lost in a world of its own.

Yet, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of it. Maybe it was because you were moving on, and feeling guilty about doing so.

You didn’t move into your old room that had been yours and Aemond’s. That was off limits. Closed for good, unless you wished to go in there and sit for a while. It had been over six years, six long years without him, but maybe, just maybe, Aemond would want you to move on.

Yes, you were sure of it.

He would want you to be happy, to move on. Not forget about him, but to continue on with your life without him, despite the feeling that your life had stopped with him the day he was killed.

You still had night terrors about it, picturing his body on the floor, lifeless and cold, blood pooled beneath his head, seeing eye staring up unfocused.

The terrors had gotten worse when Cregan had moved in. You would wake with a scream, and the vision and smell of blood before you, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the feeling as though something, or someone, had be pushing down on your chest. And each time, Cregan would be there for you, to ground you, to bring you back to the present and hold you as you sobbed in his arms, and eventually went back to sleep, skin tingling with the feeling of an extra eye on you.

But Cregan made you feel safe.

There were many things about Cregan that you adored. His loyalty to his friends and family, his smile when excited or pleased, the way he would hold you tightly against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin as you inhaled deeply.

And to top it all off, he was an amazing lover.

Sleeping with Cregan was different to what it had been like with Aemond. He was gentler, softer, less rough and violent. Which was something you actually missed. When once you had asked Cregan to wrap his large hands around your throat, he had blushed and looked away, saying he needed time to work his way up to that. And so you dropped it, and respected that boundary.

It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was. Cregan knew how to bring you to your peak with practised skill. It was just that it wasn’t what you needed. You needed a release. A cathartic bloom of pleasurable pain, submission and dominance, to not be in control, to let someone take the reins and bring you to a warm and fuzzy place that Aemond called ‘Sub Space’. You needed to feel the ache of being roughly handled, to see the bruises of Cregan’s love on your skin the next day or week after, but he was almost afraid of hurting you.

Gods bless that sweet man.

Footsteps clumped from down the hall as the tv softly played the previews of a new show on Netflix. You leant back against the couch, tucked under a thick blanket as you watched Cregan enter the lounge room with two bowls in hand.

“What are we watching?” His deep voice curled around the room, eyes darting to the tv as you scrolled down, trying to find something the two of you could watch.

“I don’t know.” You flicked to the Recommended For You section, the couch dipping beside you as he sat, placing the steaming bowls of pasta in front of you, “Thanks.” You pecked his cheek lightly, before looking back at the screen.

“What are our options?” His fork clinked on the edge of his bowl as he twirled the long pasta up his fork, shoving it into his mouth beside you.

“Pride and Prejudice-“

“-2005 or BBC?” Cregan interrupted.

“2005 obviously.” You smirked, turning back to the tv, “Jurassic Park, Knives Out,” You flicked through the recommendation list, hearing a snicker beside you as you moved past 365 Days, “Gone Girl-“

“Gone Girl? What’s that?” Cregan asked between chews, large hand reaching to place your own bowl into your lap.

You grinned, “Only one of the best movies ever. Have you really not seen it?” You turned to face him, watching as he shook his head. “Gone Girl it is.”

The movie began to play as you settled in at his side, eating the dinner he had made you both. Cregan was engrossed in the film, and made you laugh as he screamed profanity at the tv, already hating Ben Affleck's character thinking he had killed his wife.

Towards the end of the movie however, Cregan was cheering Amy on, getting excited as it went through her step by step revenge plan. You were almost at the crescendo of the film when you felt Cregan shift beside you, his audible stream of consciousness suddenly stopped.

You turned your head to look at him.

The large man was sitting stiff as a board beside you, grey eyes narrowed onto your face. It was as if all emotions had slid away, leaving a cool exterior. You frowned, turning your body to face him completely, watching as his eyes slid carefully over your body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, wondering what had changed his mood so suddenly.

Cregan’s eyes blinked slowly, lids half hooded as he peered at you.

There was something about it that was familiar.

Something about it that sent a shiver down your spine.

And as if it didn’t happen, Cregan blinked again, shaking his head slightly, large hand coming to press at an eye as though in pain.

Your hand reached out to rest on his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” Concern written on your features.

Brows furrowed, he winced, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, “Sorry.” He apologised through gritted teeth, “Migraine came out of nowhere.”

Sympathy rolled through you. Standing from the couch you clicked your tongue, “That’s no good. Let me get you some pain killers.”

Your bare feet pressed into the cold flagstones as you headed to the large kitchen, bending at the waist to rifle in the small medicine box under the sink.

The box was old, something left over from Aemond, with the painkillers still inside that he used for whenever his eye and scar was giving him bother. You spotted the small silver packet of pain killers beside Aemond’s old ones, out of date and not useful to anyone, and yet you still could never bring yourself to get rid of them, as though your brain worried that they would be needed out of habit despite him no longer being there anymore.

Bypassing your late husbands medication, you pulled at the small packet of regular painkillers and made your way back to the lounge room, worrying over Cregan’s sudden pain.

He never usually had migraines or headaches, but it had become something more frequent since he moved in. His doctor had said it could be allergies, or perhaps even the presence of black mould in the old estate, but you had hired mould cleaners, and even mould detecters who brought in an old dog to sniff about the property, and they, not once, found any sign of damp or growing fungus.

Entering the lounge you spotted Cregan, sitting stiff backed on the couch, head immediately flicking to you.

“I got you some pain killers,” You walked towards him, popping two little pills out of the foil packet, “Is it bad?”

Cregan’s lips twitched slightly as he watched you, eyes narrowed, and yet he did not answer.

Must be bad if he’s not talking.

“Here.” You held your hand out, waiting to place the two painkillers into his palm.

Cregan Stark watched you with hawklike eyes, not taking the pills from you. Suddenly he stood, large frame towering over you as he looked down his nose at you, face devoid of any emotion, and a certain strike of familiarity sparked inside your mind.

Why does this feel familiar?

A large hand struck out, grabbing you neck roughly, squeak falling from your lips as you were tugged towards Cregan, his lips finding yours in a rough and bruising kiss, his straight teeth nipping at your bottom lip roughly, tingles climbing up your spine. He kissed you until you were out of breath, hand not releasing itself from your neck, keeping you firmly to him until you parted bare centimetres away to catch your breath, lips brushing against each other as you heaved.

“What's gotten into you?” You breathed heavily, want coursing through you.

The pink of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, though moving slower as though he was savouring the taste of you on him, “I’ve missed this.” Came a deep purr from within his chest.

A smirk pulled at your mouth, “You had me last night.” You teased, nibbling at your bottom lip, wondering where this sudden burst of lust had come from.

Cregan merely grunted as he crashes his lips back against yours, fingers tightening around your throat in a way that you had begged him to do for months, cutting the supply of blood flow making your head spin. You mewled as he broke the kiss, spinning you around to push you over the edge of the couch arm.

Air was ripped from your lungs as he pushed his weight onto your lower back with his hand, fingers ripping at your clothes to reveal your slick folds to the room.

There was no preparation, no warning, just the sudden and sharp bite of his length pushing into your walls. You cried out, hands grasping at the pillows as he set a rough pace, his length dragging in and out of you sharply as he grunted from behind.

Cregan’s weight pushed into your spine as he continues to rut into you wildly, feet dangling uselessly as he fucking you over the arm of the couch, hands gripping the pillows tightly in your hands. It was the first time he had ever fucked you with such vigour, without care, and it set your nerves alight.

You whined beneath him, feeling closer and closer to your peak, slick coating your thighs and his length, the wet sound of flesh against flesh behind you.

“Always such a good little slut for me.” Cregan growled, and the sound sent tremors through you.

Your brows furrowed, a nagging sensation in the back of your mind telling you that something was not quite right. That Cregan would never call you that, had never called you that, and that it was something that Ae-

Blinding white pleasure burst through you as you came, Cregan moaning behind you as he felt your walls tighten around his length. You whined beneath him, body going slack as he sought out his own peak, rutting into you frantically until he came with a grunt, warmth filling your walls.

You slumped against the couch, mind hazy as your climax scrambled all thoughts. A kiss was pressed against your shoulder blade and a small hiss came from behind as your boyfriend pulled out of your core. Too tired to move, and the man clearly sensing that, you were scooped up into two large arms and carried off to your bedroom.

The rest of the evening a blur of being cleaned, given water to drink, and then the soft sheets and warmth of a body pressed up against you in bed, large hand stroking over your hair lovingly as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, it was to a grunt of pain and not pleasure. Cregan was laid on his back, hand once again pressed into his eye as his brows furrowed, desperate to alleviate the pain that settled behind it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, turning to face him, watching as he tried to compose himself, a soft wince pulling at his features.

“Migraine again.” Cregan whispered into the early morning air.

Your hand out of habit, moved to soothe the hair at the top of his head on the side of the eye pain, in a way that was purely instinctual, in a way that you had for many years with Aemond whenever he would wake in pain, or lay in silence, biting roughly at his own lips to try and get through it alone.

Pressing a kiss to the side of Cregan’s face you crawled out of bed, “You didn’t take the painkillers last night that’s why. I’ll go get you some more.”

You had brought him the painkillers and forced him to take them with a whole glass of water, before settling back into the covers with him, soothing his long brown hair away from his face as the pain slowly dissipated away from his features.

The next week, it happened again.

The headache.

The cool half lidded gaze.

The sudden change in demeanour.

The things that he did and said reminded you so much of Aemond, that you felt immediate guilt for thinking of your late husband whilst in the throws of a rough fuck with your new boyfriend. But this time you took the reins, and told him to slow down, told him that you wanted it softer, more loving, more him.

“Sl-slow down.” You pleaded from below, thighs pressed against your chest as Cregan pushed his whole length inside of you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix.

His eyes narrowed on you as he grunted, fucking into you harder instead, “No.” He growled, and a small spark of fear sparked up your spine.

Tears welled in your eyes as you pushed at his chest, “S-stop. Cregan, stop.” Your nails dug into his chest as you tried to push him off of you, yet his pace didn’t falter.

Your brain in its confusion pushed out a word you hadn’t used in years, a word that was reserved for you and Aemond only, a word that was to be used if you wanted all things to end.

“Perzys.”

Fire.

Cregan immediately stopped, eyes blinking suddenly as he looked down at you in a moment of confusion, and then concern. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him, your own confusion and sorrow swirling inside of you.

How did he-

“What’s wrong?”

A tear slid down your cheek as you felt him looking over you, blinking again as though trying to rise from a fog, and yet he had stopped. He stopped with a word that he shouldn’t have even known.

Or maybe you had told him. Maybe you had, a long time ago? Maybe he was confused by your sudden use of the foreign word? Maybe-

“You’re scaring me.” Your words came out breathlessly, all desire having leaked from your body and replaced with a myriad of others.

Guilt.

Fear.

Confusion.

Grief.

It was too real.

It was too familiar.

It was-

“I thought this was what you wanted, ñuha-“ Cregan’s hand flew to his eye, pressing into it roughly as he gasped out in pain.

You scrambled to sit up, pulling his length from inside of you as you held onto his face, soothing his hair away, fear replaced with worry.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked in concern, watching as Cregan’s teeth ground down on each other, low grunt of agony passing through his clenched teeth.

“Let me see.” You begged, mind going into autopilot as you gently grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his eye as he blinked down at you in surprise for a moment, a multitude of emotions flashing across his face before his hand rose, and then his face crumpled once again, and the heel of his hand pushed back into his eye.

You sprung into action, body already taking you immediately to get painkillers for him, hand reaching for the little yellow pill container before having to grab the others.

Eventually you got him to settle into bed, begging him to see a doctor, before the two of you finally agreed to see one later that week.

And what an uneventful doctors visit that was.

Two MRI’s, CT scans, and blood tests later, the doctor gave him the all clear. No growths to be seen, or unusual brain activity, not even a simple vitamin deficiency; Cregan was the pinnacle of health. The Stark came out of the doctors office with reassurance that there was no malignant growth or anything to be worried about, but a warning that perhaps stress was the causation for his sudden pains. He was given instructions to rest, and so Cregan took sick leave for the rest of the month.

Two weeks into Cregan’s rest, and the both of you were pleased to find that Cregan didn’t have another migraine attack. Nor did his demeanour suddenly change like the last time, much to your relief.

Winter had begun to roll into the realm, and the estate, being as old as it was, became far colder at times, inside than out. The fires were constantly lit to keep you both warm, and it made for a rather romantic setting for the two of you.

That morning you had gone out to get a nice bottle of wine to bring home. You were going to surprise Cregan with a home cooked meal, a nice bottle of red, and then after, if you were both feeling inclined, which you knew you would be, a slow and gentle fuck in front of the fireplace.

You had gone out of your way to avoid him that day, going to the shops to buy ingredients, prepping the dinner as quietly and quickly as you could, lighting candles in the casual lounge room for the two of you, and placing some fluffed pillows before the hearth to lounge in.

It was perfect.

Your dinner was cooked, and you were ready for the evening and with good timing. You heard Cregan walking through the hall as you put his bowl next to yours on the coffee table, placing the nice bottle of wine in the centre as you brushed down the sides of your dress and made sure your hair was perfect.

The dress you wore was tight and black, and although you had thought of wearing heels, there was no need to in your own home, so you went bare foot. Beneath your dress lay a lacy surprise. You waited to see Cregan enter the room, to see his smiling eyes and warm grin at you, but he kept on. Walking straight past the lounge, his footsteps disappearing down the vast hall.

You stood in confusion for a moment.

Maybe he was going to the bathroom.

Maybe he didn’t know you were there or that you had cooked dinner.

But he would have smelt it.

And he would have known.

You waited for a while longer, hoping he was making his way back, but when he didn’t, you began to grow impatient, leaving your steaming dinner behind to go in search for him. In that moment you cursed the vastness of the estate, but knew that Cregan wasn't really one to explore it. He kept to what he knew, and so you went to those spaces.

He wasn’t in your shared room.

Or the dining hall.

Or one of the many bathrooms.

Nor was he in the kitchen.

The estate was cold, and dark, and the coolness of the home creeped up your bare feet and into your spine, sending shivers running down it. You called out his name, hoping he would come to you so that you would eat.

But no response came.

It wasn’t until you were climbing the stairs back to your bedroom that you noticed a light on in a distant room.

A room far down the end of the east wing. A room in which Cregan knew he wasn’t allowed inside. A room in which you had not been inside of for a long, long time.

A pang of hurt and anger rose inside of you as you went towards it, feet slapping against the stones as you got closer and closer, unready and unwilling to be reasonable for such a boundary being crossed.

This was not what you had planned for the evening.

The hallway became shorter, as you got closer, and the air in the hall changed. It became colder. Sharper. More charged. And the anger that you had within you, slowly began to crackle as you came to a stop, spotting Cregan standing in Aemond’s study, his large back to you.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, hurt rising within as he stood in front of Aemond’s old desk.

There was the smallest of whispers of something not being right that began to grow in the back of your mind.

But Cregan did not answer you, nor did he turn to look at you when he would have no doubt heard you enter.

The room opened a wound you thought had been closed.

And Cregan had done that.

You stepped towards him again, no answer still from his lips.

You thought he was better than this.

You thought that he respected this boundary.

What did he want from coming into this room?

Why would he be in here?

You looked at his posture.

Bone straight.

His large hands clenching and unclenching at his side as his head stayed straight on.

Something wasn’t right.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” You told him, voice wary as you stopped yourself mere feet away from him.

Again, no answer.

Did something happen?

Was this a test?

“Cregan?”

And then you heard it.

A low chuckle.

A sound that in your years of dating Cregan, you had not heard once.

And in your years of his absence, you had missed.

It was a chuckle that sent ice running down your spine.

And yet, your feet took you forward anyway.

“Cregan?” You asked again, wariness in your voice as you tried to peer around his side and look at his face.

Was this a dream?

A nightmare?

A hum. All that came from his chest, was a deep and oh too familiar hum.

“Hm.”

Your spine stiffened, and it felt as though the air in the room turned to ice, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“This isn’t funny, Cregan. Get out.” One last attempt of courage, one last attempt of standing your ground, or at least your first attempt, which came and flew and crashed to the ground in flames.

Cregan finally shifted, turning to face you, and although it was the face of your boyfriend, it was the mannerisms of your late husband which caused you to gasp out in fear. On Cregan’s soft lips, was the sharp pull of a smirk that Aemond almost always reserved for you.

“I’ve missed you zaldrītsos.” Little dragon.

Horror flooded you.

“Cregan.” You warned in clenched teeth, afraid that if they were open, they’d chatter, “This isn’t funny.”

Growling, a tear fell down your cheek, your hands clenched into fists as you looked at him.

He had no right to be in this room.

He had no right to call you that name.

To act as he did.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Another smirk, and a step towards you, “Cregan is indisposed.”

Another tear fell down your cheek as you took a step backwards and away, watching as his eyes roamed down your body, “Cut it out, Creg. I’m serious.”

Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, clicking his tongue, “Oh, I'm deathly serious.” Came his purr-like response.

Your heart raced against your ribcage, blood rushing into your ears as you stared at him in shock and fear.

This-

It couldn’t-

It wasn’t-

“Aemond?” You breathed.

And it was the smile that did it for you. The smile you had prayed and hoped and dreamed to see every day for the years without it, yet now, seeing it up close on the face of your boyfriend scared the living wits from you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted lightly on his feet, not at all in the clunky manner that Cregan would have, but it in a smooth, calculated way that was every movement Aemond would make, “Have you missed me?”

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t speak, even if you dared to.

It must be a dream.

A cruel dream.

A nightmare in which you would wake from soon.

But it felt too real.

It felt too sure.

He was here.

There, right in front of you. But it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t his body, his face, his voice.

But it was him.

He took another step towards you, and your stumbled backwards, mouth agape as you looked at him, the shadows of the dark lit room falling across his face.

And then there it was.

That Cheshire Cat smile.

“Run."

Your feet bound on the flagstones as you fled in terror, racing down the stairs to try and escape, to leave the estate, to get to your car and go, or your phone, or anywhere that wasn’t near him. To get away from him. It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It was.

It was him.

Air struggled to get into your lungs as you ran as fast as you could, hands catching themselves on the stone walls, nails biting into them as you caught yourself taking sharp corners, the dark halls and stairways causing your heart to race faster, feeling as though they were closing in on you.

You didn’t dare look back.

You knew he was there.

You knew he was chasing you.

Something you had done together for fun, for pleasure, but now, you were struck with terror.

But there it was, sweet salvation.

The floor crashed up towards you as you landed heavily on your knees, tripping on the last step, not wasting anytime to check for injury nor even feel the blood that dripped down your legs, knees skinned from landing on the ancient stone floors.

But there it was.

The main hall.

And there at the end, your way out.

Your escape.

The front doors of the estate.

You raced for it, heart in your throat, air barely in your lungs as they screamed for a reprieve, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you got closer and closer, fear still crawling up your throat, threatening to break through as a scream.

And scream you did as your body was hauled off of your feet and into the air by a pair of large arms, wrapped around your centre. You kicked and clawed as you tried to get away from him, mind racing a million miles an hour, unsure of what was happening, and if it was even possible, but desperate to get away.

Not a sound, nor a jeer, nor a tease came from the man behind you. Not even a word to reassure you that this was a game, that it was Cregan, that you were safe, that this was just a long planned part of a fantasy you had expressed you wanted and he had denied.

There was no reassurance.

There was no check in.

Because it wasn’t Cregan.

It was Aemond.

And as he hauled you back down the hall and up the stairs, kicking and screaming, back to his study, tears falling from your cheeks, you knew that it was him. You knew that it had been the slightest glimmers of him in Cregan the past month. Those migraines were more, those changes were more, and you had ignored them.

Your hips collided with the desk of Aemond's study as he threw you into it, hands desperate to catch your fall, spreading across the desk knocking over items that had not been touched nor moved for years.

“I’ve had to watch him fuck you, every night.” He growled from behind, as you tried to push yourself up, his body caging you into his desk. There was a flicker of familiarity of the times you had once found yourself in a similar predicament.

“I’ve had to hear your moans and whines, knowing they were for someone else.” He said angrily, pulling at your dress, ripping it upwards as you tried to pull it back down, hands clawing backwards at his arms.

“You’re insane!” You screamed at him, “Get off me, Cregan!”

Aemond chuckled from behind, “You know it’s me. You always did like it rough,” His hands smacked yours away from him, shoving your face down on the desk again, “And poor Cregan just couldn’t do that for you, could he?”

Tears fell onto the desk below you, brain short circuiting as you didn’t know what to do or how to react, “Cregan, this isn’t funny.” You tried one last time, hoping his name would reach him, to snap him out of whatever this was, “Please, stop.”

Two large hands wrapped themselves around your wrists, bringing them both into one as he squeezed, face coming to the side of yours as he growled deeply, “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

Aemond’s free hand ripped at your lace panties that you had worn for Cregan, tearing them to shreds from your body, the burn of the material hot against your skin. His hips pressed into you from behind roughly, and you stifled a confused and frightened sob.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy like I’ve wanted to for years.” He emphasised with a grind against your backside, “I’ve had to watch you cry over me, my sweet byka mēre.” Little one, You sobbed loudly at the name, “Ao sagon ñuhon. Iksan dōrī ivestragī jā.” You’re mine. I am never letting you go.

It was him.

It was truly him.

Cregan couldn’t speak Aemond’s native tongue.

Cregan didn’t know the names your late husband had called you.

It was him.

It was Aemond.

You sobbed beneath him, you didn’t know if it was in relief, in horror, or in fear.

You were so confused.

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You cried, trying to turn your head, but knowing that you would be met with a face that didn’t match.

Long fingers brushed through your folds, finding them slick already, “Shhh.” Aemond quietened you, “Let me take care of my ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

Aemond smeared your slick through your folds with the tip of his cock as he brushed against your bud and then pushed inside of you. A long groan fluttered through his chest, vibrating against your back.

He set a brutal pace immediately, the old, heavy, wooden desk jutting with each thrust, your hips no doubt bruised from the force. Tears still fell from your eyes as you cried out, feeling him pull you by your hair, causing your back to arch up against his front as he fucked into you harder, hot pants in your ear.

Aemond fucked you in a way that only he knew how, pulling mewl after mewl from you with every stroke, large palm squeezing at your throat whilst the other moved to grasp at your hip, pulling you back onto his cock roughly, slick dripping down your thighs as the coil within you began to tighten.

“So fucking tight for me.” He grunted from behind, hand coming to your front to gather some slick from your folds as he parted them further, his cock plunging inside of you from between them, “So fucking wet. I have missed this little pussy.”

His fingers pressed against your bud, swirling in time with his thrusts, causing your pleasure to mount faster and faster, the tears having stopped falling from your eyes as you moaned loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder.

Your release was bounding towards you rapidly, and Aemond felt it.

“Squeezing me so good, you gonna cum for me already?”

You nodded, feeling a smirk beside your cheek as he pressed harder against your bud, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and warmth flooded over your body as your writhed in his grip, walls gripping his cock as you came hard. Aemond increased his pace, fucking into you harder as he squeezed your neck roughly, mind spinning and vision going black in the corners.

You felt like you were floating.

You hadn’t felt like this in years.

Aemond moaned from behind you as your walls clamped down on him, “Such a perfect little pussy.” He thrusted deeply into you, grinding the air out of your lungs as your mouth dropped open, “Made me for me. Only me.”

You body began to feel heavy as he continued to squeeze your throat, mind going fuzzy as you floated in bliss, his cock drilling into your walls, the sound of your slick release obscene in the room as he clapped his hips against yours.

“You’re mine.” Came a growl that sounded just like Aemond’s voice and not Cregan’s, tip of his cock jutting into your cervix painfully, “Forever.”

You nodded weakly and whined, “Yours. Only yours.”

Tears began to spring into your eyes again, knowing that this was Aemond. Knowing that this was him, but also knowing that you could never have him truly. Knowing he was gone, and never coming back, and although you had tried, although you did love Cregan, you would never truly move on from Aemond.

You would always be his.

The grip around your neck pulled away and blood rushed to your head, strange euphoria taking over as you felt his pull out of you from behind. You stumbled forward slightly before he caught you, turning you around and lifting you onto the desk. And although you were staring at Cregan’s face, with his stormy grey eyes and his brown hair, you could tell just by the way his features contorted, by the way he moved or talked or fucked you, that it was Aemond.

And at this, more tears came.

Aemond sucked his tongue at you, wiping away a tear roughly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and without waiting another second, slid back inside of your walls, a needy moan falling from your lips as you continued to cry.

Aemond began to rub at your clit again, sending blinding pleasure back up your spine. It was almost too much, too intense, added with everything else, your mind was running in circles.

You whimpered and tried to run away from his fingers, which only served to anger him.

“Stop crying.” He ordered, hand slapping at your clit in warning causing you to yelp.

You hiccuped and sniffled, body jolting with every thrust as he pushed you backwards to lay down on the desk, hovering over you, one hand gripping your shoulder to pull you back down on him, the other pressed onto your swollen bud, “You like when I fuck this little pussy?” He grunted, and you closed your eyes, trying to imagine his face instead of seeing Cregan’s.

“You’ve been thinking of me, haven’t you?” He chastised you, tutting meanly as you nodded your head with a suppressed sob, “He could never fuck you the way I can.”

Pleasure mounting within you again, all you could do was nod and babble yes.

This seemed to both please and anger Aemond, his thrusts speeding up as your spine rubbed painfully into the hard wooden surface, “Cregan could never give you what you want. What you need. He’s useless.” A tear tracked down your cheek as you turned your head away, looking at the far wall as he ploughed into your cunt, “It’s only me. Only I can make you feel this good.”

You moaned beneath him as you felt your second peak rising just as rapidly as the first, his hand not once relenting. But your non-answer came at a cost. Pain bloomed in the side of your cheek as you squeaked, slap having caught your attention as Aemond pinched your jaw in his hand to look up into eyes that weren’t his.

“Say it.” He thrust into you sharply and as deep as he could go, sparks of pain rippling through your cervix in a haze of confusing pleasure.

“Only you,” You whined, “Always you, Aemond.”

“Good girl.”

Aemond’s pace increased, determined to bring you to your end as well as reach his, each thrust jolting the desk against the floor and punching the air from your lungs. You knew that by morning you’d be an aching and bruised mess, but that thought only brought you closer to your peak.

Loving kisses were dotted against your cheeks as Aemond soothed the tracks of tears away with his lips. Your hands reaching up to wrap themselves around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him in closer.

“Please.” You whimpered, but you didn’t know what for.

Aemond’s arms scooped under your back and pulled you closer to him, changing the angle so that his cock pressed deeper and at a higher angle, one that he knew you loved the most.

And it was all that you needed before you fell of the edge with him, head tossed back in ecstasy as you came for the second time, Aemond following you with a long moan, pressing as deep as he could inside of you.

“I love you.” You whispered into his neck, feeling his cock pulse inside of you, cum filling up your walls.

Your hands soothed the hair at the front of his face in a way you knew he liked, and you felt him shudder from above, kisses pressed into the crux of your shoulder and neck as he whispered into the skin.

I love you.

All too soon, the high of your ecstasy fizzled away, and reality came crashing down around you. Your arms and legs tightened around him, small hiss coming through his teeth as your walls clamped around him.

The stinging prickle of tears filled your eyes again, “Please don’t leave me.” You cried, heart beginning to feel as though it was breaking all over again.

Aemond pulled away from you, though not without a struggle, a different face looking down at you with a familiar sign of love. His hand came to brush the tears away from your cheek slowly, before he leant down to pull you into a kiss, your lips shuddering as you poorly contained a sob, “I will never leave you.” He whispered against your lips, “Not now, not ever. I am always here.” He pulled away, soothing your hair from your face as his brows pulled together in a way that you knew pain was coming.

You tried to sit up, to try and soothe his pain, to instinctually run for the medication you had kept all these years, but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his large hand as he looked down at you, eyes now full of determination, “I am always watching you. And one day, Cregan won’t be a problem anymore.”

You blinked in confusion as you looked at him, your own brows furrowing, but before you could even respond, his eyes shut in pain and a groan whittled through his lips, heel of his hand pressed into the side of his face where Aemond had lost his eye.

“Aemond?” You whispered quietly, unsure what was happening.

Grey eyes opened slightly, looking at you in confusion as he blinked a couple of times, “Huh?” A low groan came from deep within his chest as he clutched the side of his head, “Wha- Wher-“

“Cregan?”

His eyes opened at you again, and then did a sweep of you and the position you were in. You looked no doubt a mess, hair tousled, neck red from where Aemond’s- Cregan’s hands had squeezed, down to your ripped dress, to finally where you were still connected, your combined releases leaking onto the old wooden desk.

Blinking rapidly he noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks, and suddenly the pain was pushed away by concern. Cregan’s hand came to touch your neck tentatively, fear rising on his features, "Are you okay?” His voice was rushed, “Are you hurt? Did I- Did I hurt you?”

Guilt and pain struck in your chest.

He thought you were hurt.

He thought he hurt you.

You shook your head rapidly, clutching the sides of his face in your hands, “No, no. You didn’t hurt me. Not at all.”

Cregan seemed to relax at this, though there was still confusion as he looked at you, forehead pulled in pain as he tried to piece everything together.

“Did we…”

You bit at your lip, worrying it between your teeth, “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

The man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think, “I remember smelling food, and then I had this urge to go somewhere.“

Your heart began to race in your chest as you looked at him. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes searching his face for any sign of Aemond left.

What had just happened?

Was any of that real?

What was happening to you?

What was happening to Cregan?

“Hey.” Cregan caught your attention again, lowering his face to your height, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth was dry.

Were you okay?

No.

Yes.

You didn’t know.

“I’m okay.” You lied.

Cregan frowned at your obvious avoidance, “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” You reassured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your stomach turning.

When you pulled away, Cregan was watching you with caution again.

“What?” You asked quietly, fear beginning to rise inside of you.

Did he remember?

Does he know?

Did he-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You couldn’t help it.

You couldn’t stop it if you tried.

A broken sob fell through your lips like a half laugh.

Had you?

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