#it was a race between him and the ghost cat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaiser1ns · 1 month

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#. CATS AND CUDDLES

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. kaji ren, takiishi chika, sakura haruka, umemiya hajime, togame jo, kiryu mitsuki, suo hayato, endo yamato

fluff. and you thought your boyfriend couldn't get any more cuter, but him with your cat was another definition of the word adorable.

KAJI REN

Kaji arrived at your house while you were still at school, his hand reaching out to his hoodie on the chair. He needed it since all his others were in the wash. But as he turned to open a new lollipop, he glanced back at the chair—and the hoodie was gone.

“What the...” he muttered, looking around in confusion. He saw the hoodie again, this time on your bed. As he approached, it seemed to move of its own accord, sliding off the bed and onto the floor. His eyes widened as it began to scuttle around between his legs.

He rubbed his eyes, certain the lollipop's ingredients must be playing tricks on him. But there was no mistaking it—the hoodie was running away from him! “Just what candy did you give me, Y/N?” he muttered, shaking his head as he took off after the ghost.

He chased it through the apartment, his heart racing with both confusion and amusement. The hoodie darted around corners and through rooms with surprising agility. Kaji, determined to catch it, stumbled and finally managed to grab it. Panting, he looked down, only to see your cat emerging from under the hood, stretching lazily. "Meow."

Kaji blinked at the cat, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Don’t tell Y/N about this,” he said, knowing full well that the cat couldn’t talk. But in a world where hoodies could run away, he wasn’t taking any chances.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You invited him over, hoping for a quiet evening indoors away from everyone and everything, especially away from Endo. The mood was perfect until your cat decided to make it's presence known.

Chika had always claimed he hated cats, but yours was determined to change his mind. Circling his legs, brushing against them and meowing softly. Each time, your boyfriend would gently push her away, his expression growing more annoyed by the second.

"I'm just going to grab some drinks. Be right back," you said, kissing his cheek and leaving the room.

When you returned five minutes later, you stopped dead in your tracks. The red-head sat on the couch, his usual grumpy face adorned with slightly narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. Yet, his hand was gently stroking your pet who purred contentedly in his lap.

"Having fun?" you teased, a smile tugging at your lips as as your eyes were filled with adoration, your boyfriend and your cat were so cute. Chika's eyes flicked up to meet yours, "She wouldn't leave me alone," he muttered, but the way his hand continued to pet the kitten told a different story.

"Sure, she wouldn't," you replied, setting the drinks down on the coffee table. "I wouldn't leave you alone even if you wanted me to."

"Really," he insisted, but there was no venom in his tone. Instead, there was a hint of something softer, almost fond. You sat down next to him, reaching over to give your cat a scratch behind the ears. "Looks like she's warming up to you." Chika huffed, but his fingers continued their gentle movements, running through the soft fur. "She's persistent..."

"Just like someone else I know," you said, nudging him playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't stop petting the cat. "Don't compare me to a cat."

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Why not? You're both stubborn and adorable."

SAKURA HARUKA

You wrap your arms around Sakura, feeling him stiffen slightly before he relaxes into your embrace. He’s still getting used to your hugs and the physical affection you shower on him. His pale cheeks tint with a soft pink as he turns his head to look at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

One evening, you introduce him to your cat. The fluffy creature eyes him curiously before sauntering over, rubbing against his legs. Sakura hesitates, then gently kneels to pet the cat, his touch delicate as if not to hurt it.

As the days pass, he starts spending more time with your cat. He notices how it follows him around the apartment, always seeking his warmth and presence. Whenever he sits down, the cat immediately curls up in his lap, purring contentedly as he strokes its fur.

You lay together on your bed, your cat nestled between you, Sakura looks at you, with an expression you will never mistake — he is in love.

“You know,” he begins softly, “you and your cat are a lot alike.” You tilt your head in curiosity, signaling him to continue.

“Both of you always search for me, wanting to be close, to cuddle. You both make me feel... wanted.”

His words make your heart flutter and your eyes water with small tears. You smile, reaching out to hold his hand. “We both love you, Haru. How could we not want to be near you?”

Sakura’s eyes soften, and he squeezes your hand gently. The cat purrs louder, as if in agreement, and Sakura laughs quietly, the sound warm and tender.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle presence of your cat and the warmth of your love, Sakura feels a sense of belonging he never knew he needed, he was loved and wanted. And he will be forever thankful that you chose him over anyone in this world.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You watched him from the doorway, holding your phone just out of sight, trying to capture the scene without disturbing its delicate peace. Umemiya sits comfortably on the couch, absorbed in his book, while the soft glow of the late afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. On his lap, your cat snoozes peacefully, a contented purr vibrating from its small body, a slight smile on its face.

Hajime absentmindedly strokes the cat’s fur, his fingers moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern that seems to soothe both the cat and himself. His expression is calm and focused, his lips occasionally twitching into a smile as he reads a particularly interesting book about plants. The entire scene looks like it’s been lifted straight out of an old movie, every detail perfect and impossibly charming.

You can't resist whispering, "You're like something out of a dream, you know that?" He looks up, slightly startled but quickly relaxing when he sees you. A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes holding their undying affection for you. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Just look at you," you say, stepping closer, still recording. "The book, the cat, the sunlight... it's all too perfect. I feel like I’m in a classic romance film."

He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your heart flutter. "Well, as long as I get to be your leading man, I don't mind."

You sit beside him, the cat shifting slightly but not waking. "You’re doing a great job so far," you tease, resting your head on his shoulder. "Can I join in on this perfect moment?"

Hajime leans over and kisses the top of your head gently. "You already are," he murmurs. "This moment wouldn’t be perfect without you."

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his words and the serenity of the scene. The cat's purring, Hajime's presence, and the soft rustle of pages turning — wishing this could last forever.

TOGAME JO

You stepped into the house, and for the first time it's too quiet, you could only hear your own breathing and footsteps until reaching the bedroom as you catched your boyfriend sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling with his deep, peaceful breaths. Curled up on top of him is your cat, purring softly.

Standing in the doorway for a moment, you were just watching them. It's a sight to behold, perfect picture—one that fills your heart with so much love and adoration. Carefully, you move closer, trying not to disturb them but as you step forward, the floor creaks ever so slightly.

Togame stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He doesn’t say anything at first, just blinks sleepily at you. Then, with his lazy smile, he reaches out, his hand warm as it finds yours and pulls you gently into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breath beneath you and the cat adjusts itself, purring louder.

"Sweet dreams, angel," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. You feel his lips brush your forehead, a gentle, comforting touch that makes your heart flutter even more.

From the outside, the scene is simple as it can be. You, Togame, and the cat—together, you look like a small family, and maybe some years later you will be one.

KIRYU MITSUKI

Your boyfriend is going to be over at your house for a first time since you guys started dating. He has scene your room from video calls during game nights but he was more excited to see your cat because you have been spamming him like crazy in the dms with cute and silly photos of your pet.

As you step back into your room, cradling your cat in your arms like a baby, you see Kiryu sitting on the edge of your bed, looking at his phone. His face lights up the moment he notices you. He puts his phone aside and his eyes sparkle with excitement.

"Hey, there she is," he says with a warm smile, his voice soft and affectionate. "I've been waiting to meet this little star."

You walk over and gently place your cat in his lap. She looks up at him with curious eyes, and he chuckles, stroking her fur gently. She was just like you, melting and relaxing at his touch, maybe ita true that the pets behave like their owners.

"She's even cuter in person," he murmurs, looking up at you with a grin. "Just like you." You blush, feeling your heart flutter at his words. "I'm glad you think so. She's been looking forward to meeting you too."

Kiryu continues to pet your cat, his touch tender and careful, "I've seen so many pictures of her, but ... It's nice to finally be here with you both." and the reason for your death is going to be your own boyfriend with his cute face and honey like words — what a sweet death indeed.

SUO HAYATO

The soft hum of birthday music filled the room, mingling with the occasional meow from your cat, who was delightfully eyeing the small, cat-friendly cake you’d made just for him. You had planned this little surprise to make the day special, and it was the best desicion ever.

Your boyfriend was the heart of this adorable celebration, well he couldn't outdo the birthday boy. He had a party hat perched jauntily atop his head, and he looked utterly irresistible with it. And the cat was nestled comfortably in his lap and seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much.

You couldn’t resist the urge to capture this perfect snapshot. Your phone was out in an instant, your finger tapping the screen to snap a photo.

“What’s with the sneaky photo-taking?” Suo asked, glancing up to look at you, his voice warm and affectionate. His fingers gently scratched behind the pet’s ears, making the cat purr contentedly.

You grinned, stepping closer to him. “Just wanted to capture this moment,” you said, showing him the photo. “You look adorable with that party hat and he is enjoying his birthday bash. It’s perfect.”

Hayato chuckled softly, dropping you his iconic eye smile. ”I have to admit, this is the cutest party I’ve ever been to.” He adjusted the party hat slightly, making sure it was sitting just right. “Though I have to ask—what’s my prize for being the best-dressed guest?”

You raised an eyebrow playfully, pretending to ponder his request. “Hmm, let me think… how about a dance with the most charming guest of honor?” You extended a hand, and Suo’s grin widened as he took your hand, standing up and gently shifting the cat to a cozy spot on the couch, like a King watching his princess dancing with Prince Charming. “A dance with the host? Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. After you, my lady.”

ENDO YAMATO

Endo wakes up to something soft and fluffy tickling his mouth. As he blinks his eyes open, he finds your cat nestled comfortably between you and him, its long tail flicking gently. He chuckles softly, reaching out to pet the cat, who responds with a contented purr.

You stir beside him, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the heartwarming sight. The big, bad-tattooed wolf, as you teasingly call him, is gently stroking the cat, his rough exterior contrasting with the tender moment. You can't help but smile, your heart swelling with affection.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice thick with sleep. Endo’s eyes shift to meet yours, and a soft, loving smile tugs at his lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he replies, his voice as warm and comforting as the embrace he keeps you in.

Your eyelids droop again, heavy with lingering drowsiness. But before sleep can claim you once more, he carefully scoops you and the cat closer, wrapping his strong arms around both of you. You nuzzle into his warmth, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

“I will be late for work,” you mumble, voice still laced with that morning haze when your boyfriend hums, a deep, soothing sound that vibrates through his chest. “Call in sick,” he murmurs against your hair. “I want you to myself today.”

You smile, eyes still closed, basking in the peaceful moment. The cat purrs louder, as if in agreement, and you feel Endo’s lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Alright,” you whisper back, snuggling closer to him. “Just today.”

Endo’s arms tighten around you, and you feel the rumble of his satisfied chuckle. “Good. Now go back to sleep. We have all day.”

With that, you let yourself drift off again, feeling utterly safe and comfy in his embrace, your cat’s purrs lulling you back into a peaceful slumber.

A couple of hours later, you wake up again, this time to the sound of soft murmuring. You open your eyes to find Endo on the phone, his voice low and soothing, as he scratches the cat behind the ears.

“Yeah, she’s not feeling well today,” he says, glancing down at you with a wink. “She will see you tomorrow. Thanks.” He hangs up and looks at you with a playful grin. “All taken care of.”

You stretch. “You’re too good to me, Endo.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. “You deserve it, baby,” he whispers “Now, how about breakfast in bed?”

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sukunas-wife · 6 months

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What about the idea that baby Yuuji overhears the screams in the bedroom and thinks Sukuna is hurting mommy?🥺Mommy's little protector. Or the baby asks why they need a collar on the bed, but the mother lies that it is for their future dog/cat. Sukuna is unhappy, but is forced to get a pet because Yuuji is too happy

Hehe pervert 🤭 I’m joking 🥹🤍 but I love the idea

This is the first time your little sweet heart Yuji wasn’t by your side. Today his heart was set on following Uraume around, he was set on following him convinced at times of the day he was just a ghost who would vanish into thin air. Uraume didn’t have a problem with letting his young master follow him as long as he didn’t have to slow down his own business.

You’d see them cross your path a few times that day, Yuji always waving his chubby hand at you with a bright smile before running off to catch up.

The first time Sukuna saw you that day was just before midday, you were out in the garden under the plum tree fingers grazing the fruits you craved. He strolled over scaring you when you felt two of his hands on your waist, the third reaching up with ease to pull down the golden plums you struggled to reach.

“Thank you,” you reached up to his face bringing him down to kiss his lips, he bit at your bottom lip before he pulled away looking at you amused, “Where’s my son?” You turned to face him, smiling as your eyes moved away from him, “OUR son wanted to assure Uraume is not a spirit. Yuji is set on following them around from dawn till dusk.”

You looked back up at Sukuna, he brought a hand up to each side of your waist, “Is that so?” You felt like prey when he pressed you back against the tree, his third arm pressed over head against the bark, his fourth hand came up grabbing a strand of your hair running it between his fingers. “Well, now that you don't have our little brat with you, what are you going to do?” He leaned down closer to your face, his scent filled your air accompanied by his low suggestive tone, “More importantly what are we going to do together.” All it took in that moment was for his lips to meet yours while he brought you closer to his body, holding you close and whispering filthy words against your lips.

It was four or five hours past midday, one or two hours before dinner. Uraume was still on the move with purpose in their step and their mind set on completing whatever tasks Sukuna had assigned them that morning.

One of those tasks was to bring fresh robes to Sukuna’s separate chambers. Which lead Uraume to enter though your shared chambers and they would’ve gladly ignored the sound of wooden frame of your bed creaking. Not have batted an eye at Lord Sukuna’s muffled grunts and your quiet cries. Uraume, the master of “I mind my own damn business but I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS” went about business until they heard the small voice.

“Uwaume! Mommy’s crying! We need to help her!” Uraume quickly snapped around snatching up Yuji, “Don’t worry Young Yuji, your mother is perfectly-“ Both of them were cut off by the sound of wood cracking and a slam. Followed by Lord Sukuna’s voice reverberating clearly through the heavy wooden doors to your private chamber. The last thing was your weak voice saying Sukuna’s name. The string of curses and your name from his father had Yuji shoving his way out of Uraume’s hold and running to your doors.

Behind closed doors you almost peed yourself hearing the bangs on the door and Yuji’s screams. “MOMMY MOMMY ARE YOU OKAY!? DADDY IF YOUR HURT MOMMY IM IMA! IM GONNA…” the banging stopped, “LEMME GO LEEMMEEEE GGOOOOAAAGGGGHHHHHHH” you could almost see the way Yuji was kicking and squirming in Uraume’s hold.

Your heart was racing, and you took a deep breath, “Su,” you looked down at him where he was still laying on you. He looked up at you amused, “Your son just threatened me through a door for hurting you.” His chest rumbled as he let out a breathy laugh. You rolled your eyes, “OUR SON, just heard you trying to give him a sibling and your humoured that all that came from it was he was threatening you?” Your eyebrows raised with a slight smile, you were amused but still concerned for what your little Yuji heard.

Sukuna groaned rolling off your body to avoid crushing you entirely, your bed creaked and finished falling to the floor as the last two legs gave out. You tried not to laugh at Sukuna’s slightly widened eyes. “Your next bed will be one of those made of solid cedar. These raised beds are flimsy and break always.” Rolling over to his side you placed a hand on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, “Or maybe, you shouldn't let your ego get so big and see if you can break every new bed you bring into my chambers?” Sukuna looked away, both arms on the side you were pressed up against holding you close, “I’ll think about it. Now come here, take that collar off before it taints your skin red.”

Almost an hour passed of Uraume holding Yuji like a sack of potatoes under his arm to keep him from running to your room. In that hour you briefly fell asleep under the graze of Sukuna’s hands. The red leather Sukuna had his name branded into was pulled off your neck and thrown onto your bed to be cleaned up later with your bed.

Waking up from your short rest you got up, Sukuna helping tie your Obi and managing to loosely tie your hair in a nice manner. Of course you couldn’t walk away from him without having your ass smacked. Your walking was cut short the moment you tried and couldn’t take more than a few steps and your own legs caving causing you to fall into your husband who was smirking down at you with lidded eyes. The puff in chest, pride in his lidded eyes, the smug “heh,” you almost missed made you side eye him. “You were the one who asked me,” he mimicked your voice poorly, “Please please fuck me Sukuna, give me everything.”

While he snickered he assisted in helping you sit in your shared chambers bed while poking and prodding at you and your sensitive bruising body.

Sukuna was chuckling to himself as he pulled the blanket over your lap, “I’ll call for Uraume or one of your little maids to bring you dinner. I’ll tell them you’ve fallen ill and it’s best to let you eat and rest.”

There you sat, watching your husband look back at you one last time with a faint smile before he left. You sat in the silence taking a breath, that was until you heard a familiar scream and the sound of little feet running in your direction, “OI BRAT! I JUST TOLD YOU YOUR MOTHERS ILL!” You laughed silently at Sukuna’s yelling, Yuji who let out a little grunt and shoved with all his weight against the wooden doors, “mmoommyy!!?!” He ran to your side of the bed doing everything to climb up, even pulling your blanket down so he could hold on and pull himself up. When he was finally on the bed he sat on your legs looking up at you with those big round eyes, “Are you okay?” His little hands came together, he was looking at you with so much concern it squeezed your heart making you wanted to kiss all over his face and fawn over him.

So you did, he laughed being pulled into your chest as you kissed all over his face and squeezing him in a tight hug that he did his best to hug you back. “Yes baby I’m alright, daddy and I were just having a discussion and you know your daddy.” Yuji laughed, eyes closing while he smiled big “hehe he breaks things.”

It wasn’t long before Sukuna walked in with one of your ladies, she was holding a tray with your dinner, Yuji bounced off your lap and onto the floor “Wanna go see what daddy broke.” You watched as he ran to your room, pushing past the door. Your lady in waiting helped you adjust yourself to be able to eat whatever was served. That was until you heard Yuji’s loud cheery voice “WERE GETTING A DOGGY!?”

You were confused as you looked at Sukuna and he seemed equally confused until you saw his eyes widen slightly before he went back to a neutral expression.

“Yuji, we are not getting a mutt.” You watched as he got closer to your door and you understood why he came to that idea, you looked down at your food feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “but it even had a name!” Yuji came running out of your room with the bright red collar in hand, an oval token hanging that said “Princess” . He had the biggest smile and was visibly excited.

Your lady in waiting was quick to dismiss herself as you waved her off, “We ARE getting a dog Yuji, come here.” You waved him over moving your tray off your lap, “Y/n- we’re not getting a- we are Ryomen.” You gave him a look and he gave you a look. You were both stuck in a stare off, the tension was there, “Ooouu that’s why daddy broke the bed, he can’t say no.” Sukuna looked taken aback, “I said no! And No is no!” He crossed his arms over his chest staring down at You and Yuji who sat in your lap holding the collar. Yuji looked up at you with a smile kicking his feet waiting to hear what you would say.

“Sukuna.” Your brows raised before you angled your head taking the collar from Yuji, “Why wouldn’t we get a DOG if we have a COLLAR.” you spoke through gritted teeth and he kept a hard stare on you, Yuji brought his little fists up to cover his smile, he was looking up at you with stars in his eyes, if anyone could bend his father like bamboo it was you.

Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes, “FINE- but I'M choosing it, and NO ONE gets a say.” Yuji’s cheer of pure joy made him kick out his legs and throw out his arms. He was quick to hug you and kiss your chefs before running to his dad hugging his leg, “thank you daddy.” Sukuna couldn’t deny he had a soft spot in his soul for his son, especially when he placed a hand on Yuji’s head giving his head a rub. “Sure brat.”

A week had passed and you were outside with Yuji, he was using a stick like a sword attacking a tree making all sorts of sounds as if he were really fighting for his life.

“Oouuuuaaahhh” Yuji’s hands dropped to his sides when he saw his daddy emerge from the path.

“Mommy…” you were just as shocked. Here came Sukuna tether in hand. Until he got to both of you, “well?”

“Sukuna…” you looked at Yuji who looked excited, his eyes were wide and shining, his smile was big and his little fists were shaking in excitement as he stood there basically vibrating in excitement, “That’s not a dog..”

“IT'S A TIGER!!” You didn’t catch Yuji as he ran and hugged the tiger, your eye was twitching while he buried his face in the tiger's neck, his little arms not enough to encircle the beast.

“It’s better than a mutt,” you watched as he knelt, on arms resting on the tigers back, the other leaving firm pats on the tigers chest. Keeping the tether in his hand. “It’s tame also, she came from a palace where she was used to guard someone’s children, so she’ll take care of Yuji.”

You wanted to reject the idea just to hear Yuji’s little voice “I love you princess.” It squeezed your heart to see how cute he looked hugging her, she sat bringing one of her big paws over his shoulder like she was actually hugging him.

“I don’t think… I don't think it's good.- you hear that Yuji? I don’t think your mom wants us to keep her?” He looked at you while hugging Princess, his eyes started to tear up, dammit you never thought he’d use that against you, much less would it be that effective., “Please mommy?” He was looking up at you, and Sukuna was too, behind his son he had a sly smile, turning your plan against you, then there was princess, who looked up at you, purring while Yuji held on tighter, “Fine- but no Tigers on my bed, and maybe a new name… I don’t think the collar we have was meant for a fully grown… tiger..”

Yuji ran hugging you, “Daddy can get her a new collar and we can think of a new name like… like… lightning!” You snorted trying to not laugh, “Lightning is cute Yu, but I think she needs a better name.” He hummed, thinking while looking around, “What about lilies like the flower?” His little finger pointed past you, you turned to see the tiger lily he was pointing at, “It’s a pretty name if you like it.”

He walked over to Lily, his hands on her cheeks fluffing the tufts of fur, “What do you think lily?” The only response he got was Lily nuzzling his face with her nose, “I think she likes it.”

You looked at Sukuna and didn’t miss the smile on his face and the soft expression on his face. He loved his brat. You knew that he didn’t just find a tiger in some palace, he had to have already planned it to some extent.

Walking to his side you hugged his side, “I love you.” Doing your best with your free hand to pull him down, you kissed his cheek and he let out a “heh” sound. “So how long have you really had this planned?” You cocked a brow with a sure smile, “From the day of Yuji’s birth it was made known to me, one of those fools that live scared behind palace walls imported more than just a few.” You saw the smug look on his face and shook your head with a smile, “You are beyond belief.”

“LOOK” both of you turned to Yuji who had jumped on Lily trying to ride her, “Go lily go!” She only looked back at him and you looked away with a smile before Sukuna dropped the tether, “You heard the boy Lily.”

All you heard was Yuji’s scream when Lily started a decent pace run. Your mouth opened slightly, “su- he’ll be fine.” Was all Sukuna said cutting you off before wrapping both arms on his side around you. “Now, let’s talk about your punishment for defying me so openly in front of my son.” He took your jaw in one of his free hands, making you look up at him, those lidded eyes and sly smile made your nerves tingle, “Oh?”

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Here’s my shop btw 🥺

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longing-for-the-past-times · 1 year

Text

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - one.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 2,542

synopsis: Throughout your time as a Task Force 141 operator, you fell asleep on your Lieutenant in random circumstances. What happens when he is the one to fall asleep on you?

notes: hope you enjoy this, it was initially meant to be max 500 words but I got carried away reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

one.

In hindsight, the day shouldn't have been so draining; it had been an average day spent on base, involving physical training, shooting, and paperwork. You had endured much worse during missions where you could barely get some shut-eye between watches, but that was not the case.

The problem, the literal root of your heartaches was a cat, your sister's cat. You had been more than happy to take care of it when she so kindly asked under the pretence of having to spend a few nights out of town. You had been even happier when you went shopping for cat supplies with her - perhaps excited at the thought of having a furry cuddling partner. And you intentionally kept it a secret from your teammates, scared that they would drop by uninvited to help you take care of it when all you wanted was the creature's undivided attention.

The previous day, the first day she'd spent under your care was perfect: she, for the cat was a female, spent hours cuddled up on the couch, sleeping like there was no tomorrow. But when the night came, the little beast came to life. Scratch that, beast was an understatement - it was the spawn of Satan that had been racing through your bedroom, jumping on the windows, and left hanging on the curtains. The demon that kept butting his head against your door, and that launched violent attacks against your blanket until your alarm rang.

So that was why the plain day at the base was more draining than it should have been. You went on with training, the shooting session was average, and the paperwork had you dozing on your desk. Letting out a small sigh, you forced your eyes to stay open as you scanned the last mission’s report for any grammatical mistakes- which proved to be a tedious task, especially because you’d eaten not too long ago and your eyes became heavier each breath.

At the sound of another yawn, Ghost lifted his head from his own paperwork, glancing in your direction. He noticed with a frown your exhausted face and the way you blearily rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make the sleep go away. What was that kept you up last night? Or should he ask- who? He quickly shook his head at the thought, discarding it like a crumpled piece of paper thrown in the bin. He’d known you long enough to notice your mood shifts and he would know, he had to know, if you started seeing someone. Not that he had something against it - he wouldn’t be the one to pry into your personal life like that. After all, it was Johnny’s job who, in turn, would share the information with him.

But that did not mean he could not try to ensure you felt good enough in his presence - the team’s presence - to not feel the need of finding another someone. After all, it would only get you distracted and unprepared for the missions to come.

His reasoning was sound in his head, and when he saw you had given up, propping your head against a stack of papers while mindlessly glaring at your extended hand, he got up from his desk. He made sure the screeching of the chair was loud enough to alert you something was going on, and he suppressed a grimace under his mask when he saw you slowly turn to face him, eyes glossy with sleep. At that moment, glancing at you, he thought you were the perfect embodiment of the expression: no thoughts, head empty, and, as much as it amused him, he knew he had at least to get you out of the office.

"Come on, let's go."

Scrunching your eyes before blinking, you looked up at his massive figure that was currently towering above your desk. If you'd been more alert, you would have noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, but your efforts were put into battling off the waves of sleep that just kept coming. Your mind could not form a coherent thought: what was the time, did the lieutenant finish his paperwork already, where did he want to go-

The internal questions continued and you ended up yawning loudly again, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. You just needed to rest them for a while and then you'd be fresh, prime, and proper to finish your day on base. Yet your brief rest was interrupted when you heard, or rather, felt, a hot breath across your face. As you opened your eyes, you realized Ghost had crouched down in front of your desk, his masked face being centimetres apart from yours. His eyes still had that tiny sparkle you noticed this time, and involuntarily you began staring at his amber orbs and blonde eyelashes. Countless times you studied his eyes fervently, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the mask - so much that you began to be aware of every crease and crinkle that would form around them, depending on his mood. At the time being, there seemed to be no such lines, or perhaps you were too tired to actually notice them-

"You can finish this report tomorrow, Sergeant. Let's go!"

He gently nudged you with his arm, waiting for any reaction. When he didn't receive one, he rolled his eyes and groaned, he actually groaned, which made you perk your ears in disbelief:

"I'm up, I'm up!", you shot up and out of the chair, too surprised by his loud reaction. But you couldn't see his face anymore as he was already heading towards the door, back turned to you, left hand silently gesturing you to follow.

The walk to the lounging area was silent, with Simon walking in front and you trailing dutifully behind him. The silence was not uncomfortable though, which was not unusual: he was one of the very few people with whom you could sit in a room for hours and don't feel the need to fill the space with words. There was no explanation for it; it all came naturally and you were smart enough not to question it, knowing that the lieutenant could be difficult with people when he wanted to.

"Look who decided to show up! Ghost, Bambi - how kind of you to join us!"

You shook your head at Soap’s loud greeting, trying your best to hide your smile as you plopped down on the sofa, next to Ghost. Captain Price was already seated in his designated armchair, leafing through what seemed to be a handbook, while Gaz was lounging on the other sofa, next to Soap. As usual, other members of the task force would come and go, bidding silent greetings, and at that moment, the comfort and familiarity of the atmosphere made you sigh softly as you propped your head on your hand while leaning against the armrest.

"Sleepless night, Y/N?"

Price did not look up from his book as he asked the question, but you knew he must have been watching you throughout the day, taking note of the sleepy state you'd often found yourself in. You also knew that he would have stepped in the moment he considered you pushed yourself too far, but for the time being, you were just satisfied that you managed to get through the day.

"Who's keeping you up at night, Bambi?", Soap quickly chimed in, a signature smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that widened even more when he noticed Ghost rolling his eyes, next to you. "Is there someone we should know about?"

"You're shameless, Johnny", you spat back at him, straightening yourself in an attempt to seem more collected. "...and even if there was someone, you think I'd throw them to the wolves?"

Gaz chuckled loudly at the remark, while Price was trying to hide his grin behind the pages. At that moment, Simon was glad the balaclava was hiding his features - the smirk he was sporting could rival Soap's.

"My sister left town for a couple of days", you eventually resumed, running a hand through your hair, "and asked me to take care of her cat-"

As expected, protests and offended remarks could be heard from both Soap and Gaz, the men demanding why they were not told of this earlier. They could have helped-

"The only help I'd get from you would consist of you two laying to sleep with her on the couch. But here's the catch, the beast only sleeps in the daytime - but when the night comes, she transforms into this dark demon which runs around the house and attacks my feet when I try to sleep!"

"Never had a cat before, Y/N? When you were a kid?"

You shook your head at Price's question, frowning when you notice his sympathetic expression:

"You need to keep them busy throughout the day, and then leave enough food for them at night. As a last resort, locking them in the bathroom is a good solution, but you need to first remove everything from the shelves."

"Or we could come in and babysit the baby!", Gaz kept pushing, an innocent smile gracing his features. "Sure, you had a rough night, but how hard can it possibly be, to take care of a creature whose routine mainly consists of eating and sleeping?"

"Well, it's only three more days. I'll manage somehow..."

As the conversation shifted to another topic you were too tired to understand fully, you laid your head against the wall, letting your body sink into the couch. There it was again, that soft hum that lulled you to sleep- not that you would actually fall asleep in the lounging area. No, you would just rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, before heading towards your car and riding back home to the little creature that must have been expecting you.

***

At first, Ghost did not seem to notice the shift of weight on his right arm. He was too busy scrolling on his phone, searching for articles about cats and their nocturnal habits. It wasn't until the room was too quiet for his liking that he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting Soap's as his teammate was silently pointing to his right - in your direction.

He slowly turned his head towards you, his eyes widening almost comically behind his mask. You were the dead weight on his shoulder, soundly asleep, your left cheek squished against his arm. Of all the days, it was that specific day that he opted for a plain black t-shirt after training, and he was definitely overthinking his choice. Your skin felt soft and warm against his, enough to short-wire all the working circuits in his brain, prompting him to freeze and stare at you. The complete implications of this gesture would hit him later, when he would be lying in bed, unable to sleep, but for the time being, he could solely focus on the facts at hand: you were there, next to him, leaning against him, sleeping peacefully.

And he only wanted to keep an eye on you and kill anyone who had the slightest intention of waking you up.

"Where's that camera when you need it!", Soap quietly grumbled as he got up and started fumbling on one of the shelves, ignoring the daggers Ghost was shooting at him through his eyes.

"Top shelf, Soap - you put it there the last time you used it!", Price whispered with a sigh of mild frustration.

"Guys, be quiet, let the girl get some rest!", Gaz hissed as well before Soap joined him back on the couch, a dusty Polaroid camera in his hands:

"Alright, this one's for the books! Come on, give us a big smile, L.T.!"

He might have been unable to move, but his gaze spoke volumes- a true death glare though and through, quickly captured by Soap through the lenses and printed on the small Polaroid photo sheet. Gaz leaned over Soap's shoulder to see the result and even Price scooted his armchair a bit closer, a small grin dancing his lips. The picture was proudly placed on the wooden panel, next to one depicting the Captain sleeping just as soundly in the very same armchair he was currently sitting in. And in the meantime, Ghost could only feign indifference, letting his signature eye roll showcase his opinion about the situation.

He could not explain, could not even place a finger on or identify the warm and comforting sensation he was feeling in his chest. He was so used to the cold and dull feeling that had taken residence in there- yet there it was, a glimmer of hope, a ray of sun on a cold autumn day.

You felt safe in his presence, safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position in his proximity.

And he would do anything to keep things that way.

***

Bonus scene:

Letting out a small whimper, you stretched your limbs while keeping your eyes closed. You could not figure out how you got home or why your pillow was sporting a distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cologne, but your semi-conscious mind was too busy keeping you asleep that you did not seem to care.

Wait...

That scent was familiar. You were in its presence on an almost daily basis that you could tell it in your sleep. Well, not literally, considering that your mind was still trying to piece it out- why was your pillow smelling like Ghost?

You jerked yourself awake with a start, your groggy mind taking a couple of moments to process the fact that you were actually not in your bed, but in the lounging room at the base. And your pillow was not really your pillow, but actually, Ghost's shoulder and your cheek was fully squished against it.

"Look who's up, Sleeping Beauty herself..."

From your current position, his voice felt like a deep rumble, vibrating through your body and resonating in your bones in an unsettling manner. With a herculean effort, you managed to prop yourself against the other side of the couch, blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes. A faint blush spread across your cheeks, warmth radiating through your face as embarrassment tinged your features. It took all you had not to cover your face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, L.T. - I really didn’t mean to-" "It’s alright, Bambi. No harm done."

The lack of your weight against him made him feel empty in a way he struggled to define. He tried to brush it away by rising from the couch and making a show of rolling his shoulder in front of you, calmly watching your embarrassed figure through his thick eyelashes. Your cheeks were already sporting an uncharacteristic rosy hue and your renowned doe eyes were widened, a glimmer of sheepishness and self-consciousness reflecting in them. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly adored the fact that he was one of the few people who could coax such a reaction from you.

"Although next time you might want to do it in a room without Soap. It’s likely that the entire base will learn of it by tomorrow."

A/N: wrote this on a whim, not proofread so it may contain grammatical errors (and more) updates won't be regular as I'm a college student with a full-time job

Hope you enjoyed it :)

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #task force 141 #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #call of duty imagine

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ponyosmom35 · 3 months

Text

Simon Says

Simon Ghost Riley x reader smut

Liability series!

synopsis: it's Simon's birthday and he wants to play a game

warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), face sitting, backshots, p in v

MDNI

Link to master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

MDNI

“There you are, I’ve been waiting”

She chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And why is that, handsome?"

Ghost chuckled, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "Well, I have a little game I'd like to play with you," he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

“What is it?”

He smirked, his eyes locked on hers. "It's a little game called Simon Says. You ever played?"

Her body stills as a blush moves over her face and neck. Shivers run down her spine and she doesn’t look into his eyes.

He notices her reaction, the way her body stills and her face flushes. He can see the effect his words have on her, and it makes his heart race.

He steps closer, his hand coming up to gently tilt her chin up so that she's forced to look at him. "I take it you've played," he says, his voice gruff and amused.

“Once or twice” she says quietly

He smirks, his hand still on her chin. "I thought so," he says, his voice a low rumble.

He steps even closer, his body almost pressed against hers. "You like it when I tell you what to do, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear.

He notices the way her hands grip his arms, her fingers digging in slightly. It's like she can't help herself, like she needs something to hold onto.

He grins, his hands moving to rest on her hips, pulling her even closer. "You're not saying much," he says, his voice teasing. "Cat got your tongue?"

“Please” she whispers weakly, her body was on fire and he’d barley touched her. The pulsing between her legs was nearly too much to handle.

He feels a surge of desire go through him as her words reach his ears. He can tell how much she wants this, how much she's affected by his words.

He leans in close, his lips hovering just millimeters from her ear. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and raspy.

“Please touch me Si” she says

He grins, his body thrumming with desire at her words. He knew she wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. But he wasn't going to give in that easily. He shakes his head, his hands still resting on her hips. "Oh no, sweetheart. We're playing by my rules. And you don't get what you want until I say so."

The air crackles with electricity as they begin to play Simon Says. Ghost's voice is commanding and firm, with a hint of menace that sets her blood ablaze.

"Simon says, put your hair down," he orders, his eyes watching her intently. He stares hungrily as she takes the ponytail out of her hair, his eyes following the waterfall of hair as it cascades down her body.

"Good girl," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Now Simon says, take off your shirt."

He watches as she obeys, his eyes fixed on her as she strips off her shirt to reveal her bare skin. He feels a surge of desire go through him at the sight, the primal need to touch and possess her almost overwhelming.

"Beautiful," he growls, his eyes roving over her body. "You're being such a good girl for me."

He steps closer, his body now almost pressed against hers. He reaches out and runs his fingers down her bare skin, enjoying the shiver that runs through her at his touch.

His mouth is right by her ear as he speaks, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Now Simon says, take off your pants," he orders, his hand snaking around to the small of her back.

He feels her shiver under his touch, her body responding to his command in all the right ways. He can see the flush of arousal on her cheeks, the way her breathing has become ragged with desire.

He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against her earlobe as he whispers, “simon says, kiss me”

He grins, his lips hovering just millimeters from hers. He knows how badly she wants this, how desperate she is for his touch. As their lips meet, it's like a spark igniting a flame inside them both. He kisses her fiercely, his hands roaming over her bare skin, exploring every inch of her body. He deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting and claiming her. He can feel her respond to his touch, her body arching into his.He pulls her even closer, his hands gripping her hips tightly. He can feel her body trembling beneath his touch, the evidence of her desire seeping through her.

"You're doing so good," he murmurs as he kisses a trail down her neck, his mouth leaving small marks on her skin.

“Si” she whimpers, desperate for more

He smiles against her neck as she whines his name, the sound sending a shiver down his spine.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asks, his mouth moving down to her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake. "You want something else?"

He chuckles as he feels her trying to get closer to him, her tiny frame no match for his 6'4 stature.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, his arms encircling her waist and pulling her flush against him. "You're too small to reach me, love."

She huffs in annoyance and pulls back.

He grins down at her, his hands still resting on her waist. "Don't pout, sweetheart," he says, his voice teasing. "It's not my fault you're so tiny."

He lifts her up with ease, his strong hands holding her effortlessly. She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms snaking around his neck as he holds her against him. He smiles, his eyes dancing with amusement and desire.

"Much better," he says, his voice rough with need. He holds her against him, his arms wrapped firmly around her, their bodies pressed together intimately.

"You feel good like this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her neck. "Sitting in my arms, all wrapped up. It's like you were made for me."

His lips find hers once more, devouring her like a man starved. His tongue explores her mouth, tangling with hers in a desperate dance. His hands roam over her body, touching and claiming her like she's his to possess.

He smirks against her lips as he feels her moan against him, the sound sending a thrill through him.

"I love the sounds you make," he huskily whispers, his hands moving to her thighs.

He chuckles as she whimpers as he sets her down, her body clearly eager for more.

"Patience, sweetheart," he says, his voice gruff. "We're playing my game, remember?"

He lies down on the bed, his eyes watching her intently as he continues.

"Simon says, take off my shirt."

He watches as she slips off his shirt, her small fingers running over his chest. He feels her exploring him, her touch sending shivers down his spine.

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes locked on her. "Now Simon says, take off the rest of my clothes."

“You’re beautiful” she says

He grins as she calls him beautiful, the way she's looking at him making his chest swell with possessive desire. He leans back against the pillows, letting her take in the sight of his bare body.

"You like what you see, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Si” she whimpers

He feels a surge of desire go through him as she whimpers his name. He reaches out and pulls her onto the bed beside him, her body flush against his.

"I can tell," he says, his hands roaming over her body. "You're practically trembling with need."

He places his hands on her hips, bringing her closer to his throbbing dick. Both of them moaned at the feeling after all of this buildup. She closes her eyes as her hands reach for his neck, pulling him closer as she breathes heavily. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her large boobs against his bare chest, not wanting to waste any more time as she grinds against him. He growls at the feeling and grips her hips tighter.

“Not yet love” he says holding her still

She looks at him as though she could cry and he places a hand on her jaw, stroking her cheek gently. “Simon says, sit on my face”

Her lustful eyes widen as she snaps out of whatever trance he’d had her in and she pulls back slightly. He can see the hesitance in her eyes as she pulls back slightly, her expression one of uncertainty. He knows he's just thrown a curveball, but he's been wanting this for a while now.

He sits up, resting on his elbows as he looks up at her. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice gentle but firm.

“I don’t know Si- I don’t want to make this about me”

He reaches out, his hand grasping her wrist and pulling her closer.

"Sweetheart, it's my birthday, and I want you to do this for me," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"I want to taste you," he says, his fingers tracing a path up her arm. "To feel you quivering for my touch."

“I’m too heavy” she shakes her head

He lets out a deep, guttural chuckle at her words.

"Too heavy? Sweetheart, I can lift 300 pounds. You're not going to hurt me," he says, his hand moving to grip her hip, pulling her onto his lap. “I want to feel you, all of you."

“Si I don’t wanna hurt you”

He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

He pulls her closer, his other hand resting on her hip. "I can handle you”

He rolls his eyes, his patience starting to wear thin. "You're not going to hurt me," he says, his voice firm.

"I've been in war zones, sweetheart. I've taken bullets and bombs, and you think you're gonna hurt me by sitting on my face?"

He pulls her towards him, his hands gripping her wrists and tugging her onto the bed. “If anything this is a reward for my service”

He lays back against the pillows, his hands resting on her thighs. He looks up at her with an expression of hunger and desire.

"That's it," he says, his voice rough with need. He could feel her body shaking as she hovered above him.

"Just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

She exhales at the feeling of his gentle caress on her hips. She allows him to pull her down, and she breathes heavily as he begins placing kisses on her inner thigh. He notices her hovering above him and grows tired of waiting, he pulls her down to hit flush on his face and begins devouring her. She gasps sharply as pleasure shoots through her body. Her core tightened at the intensity.

Simon keeps a tight grip on her thighs and continues his starved man assault on her pussy. Her body shakes and convulses as she reaches for the bedframe, desperate for something to hold onto. After another minute she’s whimpering, feeling herself getting closer to her high when he taps on her thigh. She sits up in an instant and looks down at him in concern. His face was slightly red and evidence of her excitement was all over his face. He smirks up at her and grabs her torso, he lifts her slams her back against the bed of their massive California king mattres. He pushes her forward, so her head was on top of the storage seating at the end of their bed and lays on his stomach.

Before she had time to react he dives back in between her thighs, determined to finish his favorite meal. She arches her back, mewling in pleasure as her core begins to heat up. The lewd sounds of his mouth on her bring her close. He keeps her thighs tight in his grip as she arches off of the bed, body spasming uncontrollably. Tears fill her eyes as her body tightens continuously and her pleasure builds and builds until that familiar coil snaps. Her orgasm shoots through her as her body falls limp against him. She closes her eyes in ecstasy as Simon gently swirls his finger around her clit. She whines as she grows overstimulated and he chuckles.

Simon wipes his mouth and crawls over to her, pinning her beneath him once more. He slams his lips against hers, staying like that for several moments before he pulls away.

“You’ve done so good for me baby” he whispers in her ear “but we’re not done yet”

He sits up and stands tall, looking down at her menacingly. “Simon says, turn around”

“Si” she whipmers

"I said turn around" he repeats, the girl breathes heavily and moves so that her ass was facing him and stares at the wall in anticipation. His hands grip her and pull her back to the edge of the bed, he caresses the skin before placing his hand on her back and forcing her face down into the sheets, her ass now up in the air. She breathes out in shock and grips the sheets as he rubs her folds with his hardened penis.

"what do you want?" he asks gripping her ass in his hands as he continues to tease her, the girl's breath quickens and her throat tightens. She does not respond and he pulls back from her and leans down to her ear.

"I asked you a question, what do you want?"

"you" she says softly

"good girl" he smirks moving back up to his spot behind her. Simon aligns himself with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her, she tenses at the slight pain and he stop allowing her to get used to his length. After a few moments he begins to go faster and grips her hips pushing them against his own as he moves in and out, She moans as he hits her in all the right places and arches her back. She'd never felt better.

"does it feel good?" he asks in a horse voice

"yes" she squeaks out, he takes that opportunity to quicken his pace once more and begins ramming into her. She moans loudly and grips onto the comforter beneath her for support as he absolutely rails her.

"you feel so fucking good baby" he says. He continues moving against her roughly for what felt like hours, but in reality was most likely a half hour. Her legs were shaking and her body was tired as he begins to slow down, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

He could feel her tightening against him and he knew that she was right there with him. Her moans grow higher pitched as he reaches between her legs and rubs fast circles against her clit, making her nearly scream as tears fall down her face. She moves her body pressing her ass further into him, shaking madly. He grits his teeth and grips her ass tightly. She inhales sharply as she finishes, her body easing into the mattress, her grip on the sheets lose as she works through it.

"I'm close" he says, the girl lifts her face up from the sheets and whimpers as he thrusts into hard one last time before pulling out and finishing on her back. She remains in her spot, tired and unable to move as he quickly rushes to her bathroom and gets toilet paper to clean her up. He returns and wipes the liquid off of her and she sits up staring at him happily.

"How do you feel love?" he asks seriously

“Good” she rasps “I love your birthday”

He chuckles loudly and wraps his arm around her, pulling her body flush against him as they law wrapped in each other’s arms. Basking in one another’s love as he whispers praises in her ear

“You did so well”

“Always so perfect for me”

“I love you so much sweetheart”

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outofconcheol · 7 months

Text

Exit West (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+

summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: heavy angst, lots of mentions of blood and injuries (i tried to make it as non-graphic as possible), minor character deaths, weapons, panic attack (again not graphic), it's heavily implied OC struggles with agoraphobia and PTSD, brief infidelity, Minho and reader do get into verbal arguments (they're a little toxic lol), Minho is a true loverboy, ambiguous but hopeful ending, smut warnings: kissing, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, brief nipple play

word count: 6.3k

a/n: i'm so sorry that this took so long, google docs decided to be a jerk and delete a huge chunk of this while i was working on it (I apologize in advance for the poorly written angst)! It is based on the world of Sweet Home but honestly you don't need to have watched the show or read the webtoon to follow along. the title is from the book by Mohsin Hamid. I hope you enjoy! <;3

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes.

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it.

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him.

Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow. The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

It hadn’t always been this way. The chaos had naturally broken through the quiet, starting one night when a fire broke out in his apartment complex. Amidst the screams and sounds of windows shattering, Minho’s only concern had been the cats, scooping them up, taking special care to cover their ears from the blaring alarms. But all of it hadn’t made a difference anyway.

He thought it was his neighbour at the end of the hallway. Or at least, it looked like him. He’d always had some sort of disdain for the man - in Minho’s eyes he talked too much. Always interrupting him during his morning mail runs to brag about his latest conquests when it came to dating. It was a sore spot for Minho, especially considering his own romantic interests were so singular, something he didn’t want to get into whenever his neighbor cornered him.

But the vain man who talked Minho’s ear off about sleeping with as many women as possible was nowhere to be found, lithe limbs transforming into ropes that broke through the ceiling. Heading straight for Minho.

Somewhere in the chaos, Minho briefly had time to register that whatever was in front of him was no longer human. And so, he did the only thing he could do. Run.

The floor slipped underneath him, hurtling Minho to the ground, the cat carrier thrown open next to him. Soonie, Doongi, and Dori are nowhere to be found. His palms claw against the tile, trying and failing to lift himself up, eyes widening when he sees the red that coats his palms.

“Please,” Minho croaks, attempting to break through to the human underneath the monster. “Don’t do this.”

There’s a brief flash, a spindly arm reaching out for Minho’s face, and he ducks. The sound of shattering glass follows, the grotesque body flinging itself out the window. Minho heaves, hot tears leaking from his face as he remains curled in the fetal position, arms braced over his head. When his breath returns to him, he looks over at the empty carrier and lets out a sob. Slowly, his eyes turn to the shattered window.

Blood lines its jagged edges, dripping to join the mess on the floor. Peering downwards, Minho sees the mangled body of the thing (he refused to acknowledge it had been his neighbor) that had attacked him, unmoving.

He had to get out of there.

…

The knock at the door startles you. It’d been days since you’d locked yourself away from the chaos, days since you’d heard a sound. But the screams would never leave your head.

You’ve been huddled up in the same corner since it all started, exactly ten feet away from the door. Close enough to act quickly in case someone (or something) came knocking, but far enough away to duck into one of the rooms of your apartment for safety.

However, the splitting pain in your ankle prevents you from doing either. The bruises are turning a nasty shade of yellow, mixing with the unsightly violet from before. You’re pretty sure it’s broken, your bookcase toppling over onto it the day this had all started.

The knock startles you again. It’s soft, gentler than the ramming you’d expected if a monster were to come knocking. But still, you could never be too safe.

“Churu,” a soft voice whispers through the darkness, and you freeze. There was only one person in the world who’d know that word, and come knocking at your door.

Your palms burn as you drag yourself against the floor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. Fighting the urge to curse when the door creaks, you brace yourself against it, peering through the peephole.

The banged-up face of Lee Minho greets you on the other end, and you nearly sob with relief. Swinging the door open, you take him in at the threshold, peering at you with a strange gaze. You’d often joked to Minho that his eyes resembled his cats’, curiosity mixed with having seen too much contained in their depths. But it seemed especially true today, his lip split open and face haggard while he clutched a baseball bat in his hand.

You know the first thing he’s going to ask before it even leaves his mouth.

“Are you hurt?” he huffs out, watching you collapse against the door frame.

“Junho is gone.” You watch Minho’s entire figure tense up when his best friend’s name comes off your lips, his grip around the bat tightening.

“I-, I tried to talk to him, but there was a weird sound on my phone that kept breaking us up, and then I heard him scream, and then…”

You collapse against Minho in a fit of sobs, forced to recount those awful last moments when you’d heard your boyfriend die over a phone call, the chilling screech of something that wasn’t human cutting off his screams for help. And you were trapped halfway across the city, crumpled on the floor, unable to do anything to help him.

Minho’s arms wrap around you, supporting your weight, and he’s moving you both over the threshold, taking care to shut the door softly behind him. You don’t know how many minutes you spend wailing against his chest, the sight of another human forcing you to confront the horror you’d dealt with in the past few days, but eventually, the pain in your ankle makes itself known again, and you slide to the floor.

Minho rests his head against the door frame, his own eyes red-rimmed, and you watch his face contort, trying to hold back the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, watching Minho’s gaze snap to yours.

“What for?” he croaks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m so scared, Minho,” your eyes fill with tears. “I thought that no one would come for me, that I’d be alone here, and that I’d…”

You choke, unable to finish the sentence, and you watch Minho straighten next to you. The warmth of his hand wrapping around your waist startles you, watching his lithe body contort as he helps you up off the floor, taking special care not to put weight on your ankle.

“You’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s a furrow in Minho’s brow when he hears your request, lips tightening into a thin line while his throat bobs.

“Absolutely not.”

The decision is final, resolute, stubborn — Minho’s arms are crossed over each other, and he stares down at your figure among the blankets, eyeing the makeshift splint currently tied around your ankle.

“Minho, please.” It comes out as a whine, years building in your eyes from the frustration of being trapped in the bunker for months on end.

“I said no.”

Minho had dragged the two of you to safety not long after he’d found you, stealthily dodging the strange creatures that had begun to pop up on the city landscape. There was little in common between them besides their monstrous appearances, but Junho’s screams lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to wake up every night in a cold sweat for the first few weeks.

The tiny bunker became your new home, and Minho your roommate, forced together by circumstances beyond your control. You’d snapped at him when he brought up the idea of leaving, wanting to search for food and supplies outside.

Unfortunately, your ankle made the final decision for you — Minho would have to be the sacrificial lamb, risking his life for you both. It filled you with an immeasurable amount of guilt, knowing he put himself in danger every day to provide for you both. But it also made you angry, the listlessness that had begun to brew inside you only becoming stronger when you felt more and more useless every time he’d come back with food and medicine for you and nothing for himself.

Regret cut through you like a searing knife. Who was Minho to do all these things? He’d been Junho’s best friend, not yours. The relationship between you two had been cordial at best, Minho barely managing to string more than five words together every time he was around you. It always seemed to you like Minho stood at the other end of a vast abyss, impossible for you to reach in any way. Admittedly, you’d been no help in closing the chasm, even since you’d both escaped together, the pain in your ankle lulling you to sleep as soon as you swallowed the meds he brought every day.

Your eyes flit to Minho across the bunker, holed up into the corner. You watch his hands rummage around in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. The shiny metal gleams in the rays of the sun, Minho’s fingers enclosing around a lock of his messy, overgrown hair—

“STOP!” The switchblade clatters to the floor at the sound of your voice, Minho’s lips parting in surprise. A deep flush creeps across your neck, wondering what had prompted you to interrupt him in the moment. His eyes study you with a curious glint, a thousand questions hidden in them.

“You’ll dull the knife,” you manage to get out, amazed at the calmness in your voice despite your heart racing at a million miles an hour. “What if we need it?”

Minho’s lips twist up into a smirk, and you wonder if he can see through your thinly veiled excuse. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, throwing a baseball cap over the shaggy strands, smiling when they fall into his eyes.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “You can come along. But any sign of trouble and you have to leave me and get back here, okay?”

“What do you mean, leave you? You’re coming back with me, of course.”

“___.”

“Minho.”

You push yourself off the ground with your palms, hobbling over to Minho’s side.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, and Minho rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, before the door to the bunker creaks open once more, this time the two of you stepping out into the sun together.

. . .

Sweat pools on Minho’s shirt, the sun beating down on the two of you while you make your way through the woods, eventually finding yourselves in a vast field. You’re slower than he is, trailing behind him while you skip on your partially healed ankle, but Minho finds he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he thinks he must look like a fool, the huge smile that threatens to take over his face creeping up every few minutes. Somehow, it feels different now, having you here with him. The sun’s rays feel less ruthless, and there’s the faint rustling of a breeze through the meadow. It's almost like he’s on an adventure, and not caught in an endless struggle for survival. He’s filled with the hope that maybe the two of you can come out of this alive. Together.

Pushing through the blades of grass, Minho pauses when he hears a small thud behind him, followed by the faint sound of wheezing. Turning on his heels, his heart turns to ice when he sees you, knees curled to your chest, the faint sheen of sweat lingering on your skin.

“Shit!” Minho curses into thin air, crouching onto the dirt next to you. “Stay with me ___!”

His arm swings out to steady you, but recoils at the last second, not wanting to startle you. Guilt eats away at his chest when he realizes this is all his fault. He’d been the one to agree to let you go outside. Realization dawns on him that there’d been a reason you stayed in the bunker the entire time, his mind flashing back to the days you must have spent alone in your apartment, full of pain, wondering if anyone would show up.

Minho panics, looking around the field for something, anything that could help hold you over until this passes, when a thought crosses his mind.

“Do you want to hear about the time I tried to walk my cats?” He babbles out, cheeks hot at the silly interruption. It works though, your face jolts up, the trance finally broken. Your eyes are red-rimmed, hair dampened with sweat, snot running down your nose. Minho thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“It was in a field just like this, I brought them out here with their harnesses,” he continues, the smile growing on his face when he sees the stream of tears that run down your cheeks dry up.

“It was a disaster. I thought Doongie ran away for sure, and Soonie just laid down in the grass on his belly, refusing to get up. Dori was the only one who took to it,” he reminsces fondly, a half-sob, half-chuckle escaping him at the memory, trying to soothe the hollow ache in his heart when he thinks of them.

“I wish I’d met them,” you reply softly, your hand resting on Minho’s shoulder.

“It was my fault,” Minho spits out bitterly. “Junho was over all the time, I could have introduced you. They would have really liked you I think.”

Just like I do.

“I hope we find them,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a resoluteness to it that surprises Minho. “They have to be out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

That strange feeling of hope bubbles up in Minho’s chest again, and he helps you up, fighting the burning in his cheeks when your hand remains clasped in his, the two of you hobbling through the field.

Half an hour later, and you’re stopped outside the remains of what looked to be a convenience store, completely ransacked. Minho ignores the emptiness he feels when he lets go of your hand to peer inside, his heart dropping at the bare shelves.

Behind him, a twig snaps, your sharp gasp echoing amidst the silence. The gleam of the switchblade is apparent in seconds, Minho pulling it out of his pocket.

The woman is whimpering, her gauzy white dress in tatters. His eyes trail to her hands, the discoloured nails offset by the glint of a fancy diamond ring, and for a moment, he could almost believe she’d just walked out of the church, beaming from the happiest day of her life.

But her eyes say differently. Hollow pools of black, nothing behind them. She’s one of them.

“___, run.” Minho commands, not even turning to look behind him. He hopes you’re gone already, hopes you won’t have to stick around to see this dark side of him, the one that was used to doing battle with monsters every time he left the safety of your little bunker.

But you’re not gone. Your hand wraps around his, lifting it up to study the switchblade in his hand. He looks into your eyes, full of fear but also sadness at the sight in front of you, and he wonders if you see yourself in her. What things could have been with Junho.

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you wrestle Minho’s blanched fingers off the blade. “We should just go.”

You pocket the knife, Minho’s jaw tensing at the thought of leaving the woman behind, unsure of the potential harm she could cause. He opens his mouth to protest, but realizes you’ve already begun to walk away, your slumped figure visible against the setting sun. You’re crying again.

The woman wails harder when she sees the two of you go, her cries echoing into the silent night.

It’s cold tonight in the bunker.

You shiver among the pile of blankets, watching your breath turn into mist in the frosty air. Teeth chattering, you look over to Minho. His pile of blankets is even more sparse than your own, and you catch sight of his own trembling figure.

It’s cold, your voice echoes in the back of your mind, your feet dragging across the floor, the blankets dragging behind you.

It’s cold, it echoes again, Minho stirring when you lay by his side, throwing the extra blankets over the two of you. His eyes go wide with shock when he sees your face across his in the darkness, studying the way your hair falls messily in your face, the rapid rising of your chest with every breath.

It’s cold, it repeats a final time, your lips surging forward to meet Minho’s, a strange noise escaping his throat before one of his arms comes up to wrap around you, his other palm steadying him against the floor. It’s cold and Minho is warm, the heat from his body burning through you when his tongue traces your lips, before slipping inside, a low whine escaping your throat.

You break away from him, flushed and shivering, but no longer cold. Minho’s hot breath fans against your cheeks, his thumb resting tentatively at the curve of your jaw.

“Touch me please,” you beg him, and his grip around your waist tightens, hands tracing circles on your side. His lips find yours again, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the curve of your hips. You burrow your face into Minho’s neck, leaving featherlight kisses against his jaw, heat rising in your chest when you hear Minho hold his breath. Breaking away, you meet his gaze, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Anything,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Sparks crackle in the air between you, the once stagnant air in the bunker becoming filled with frantic energy, you slipping a leg over to straddle Minho, him fumbling with the buttons to your clothes, pushing aside just enough to feel how wet you are. The fingers of his other hand trace under your shirt again, climbing up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples.

Sighing, your hips move against Minho’s hardness, pushing aside the worn fabric of Minho’s flannel to press kisses to his collarbones, his thumb working on your clit. Your back arches when he presses another finger inside, and the familiar burn of your orgasm begins to rise, building in your stomach.

“Let go for me,” Minho groans, and the deep growl in his voice has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart on top of him. The two of you exchange shallow breaths, Minho’s fingers still buried inside you, and you feel your core begin to clench around them, whining from the oversensitivity.

“Please, please, can I fuck you?” Minho whispers, desperation in his tone. You nod, head spinning with everything that had happened, and you reach back under his sweats, fishing his cock out from underneath them.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning when he feels your walls widening to accommodate him. The two of you stay there for a few moments, catching your breath before you tell him it’s okay to move. His hips snap lazily against yours, fucking you slowly and deeply, soft pants and the sound of your wetness reverberating through the bunker.

You rock against him gently, and you reach for his hands, his warm fingertips slipping through your own easily, limbs tangling together in desperation.

“You’re perfect god, you’re perfect, I love you, I love you so much,” he slurs the words, the confession ringing in your ears, soft groans accompanied by the speeding up of his thrusts before he spills inside you.

Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks. Eventually, his breathing slows, soft snores telling you he’s fallen asleep, but you remain restless for the rest of the night.

The headache hits Minho like a freight train in the morning, as he stares up at the rust-covered ceiling. There’s a faint chill in the air, one that became even more pronounced when he woke up and you weren’t by his side, and he wonders for a second if he’d imagined it all, from the softness of your lips to the way the words he’d been wanting to say, waiting years to say spilled out of his throat, every kiss and laugh you shared with Junho burned into his memory. And all he did was look on, hopeless in his desperation. Until everything changed last night.

A loud clang startles him, and he jumps up, watching you throw a heavy sack containing the supplies he’d stockpiled against the walls of the bunker, your back turned to him. He lifts himself off his feet, padding softly behind you, his arm reaching out for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, words clipped and venomous, and you keep rearranging, completely ignorant to the way Minho stands there, unable to formulate a response, his tongue feeling as though it’s weighed down with lead.

Rage lights up inside him as he watches you move around him, the silence making his heart freeze over, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore. It’s been months with you acting this way, cold and distant, refusing to let Minho in. Before, he’d been able to write off your happiness with Junho as an excuse, as a reason why he couldn’t let himself get close to you. But Junho was long gone.

“We’re not doing this,” he spins you around to face him. “You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”

You push against Minho’s chest with all the might you can muster, and he staggers back. The look in your eyes makes you seem like a wounded animal, ready to pounce.

“Why’d you say it?” Another push, the words leaving you in a broken sob. “Why’d you do that?”

You bat against Minho’s chest until he can no longer take it, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning you against the wall.

“Because it’s true,” he breathes, looking past you through the window outside, unable to meet your eyes. “I love you ____. I’ve loved you this entire time, even when you were with Junho. And I hate myself for it.”

He lets go of your arms, stepping back, his shoulders beginning to shake with the force of his own sobs.

“Why do you think I stayed? Why do you think I put myself in danger every day to make sure that you had medicine for your ankle, food to fill your stomach? Why do you think I go out there and kill every single monster I run into, because I need to make it back here, to be with you again?”

“You shouldn’t!” you scream at him. “What kind of life is this? Love should be the last thing on your mind right now, Minho! You should fucking worry about your own neck, and stop giving a damn about me!”

The words tear through you, because you know that if it weren’t for his love, you wouldn’t even be alive right now. And it hurts, hurts to think of how long he’s spent living like this, merely surviving, a wall of ice around his chest.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But I do. Do you know that these past few months, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been? What kind of fucked up logic is that? I have nothing, nothing in this world besides this stupid bunker and the clothes on my back, and it makes me want to sob with joy. Because I get you. I get a chance at life with you, after so many years of wishing for it, and knowing I could never have it.”

He falls onto the ground, tucking his head into his knees.

“The universe gave me another chance,” he whispers softly.

Your blood turns to ice, and you crouch down next to him.

“What do you mean, another chance?”

He looks at you, and you finally see all the pain in his eyes come to the surface, everything that he’s kept bottled up inside.

“It should have been me,” he mutters, lost in his own head. “I told Junho about how I wanted to go up to you that night, how beautiful I thought you were, but before I could do anything, he was there. It ended up being him.”

Your head reels from his confession, and you think back to everything that’s happened through the years. All those memories you had with Junho, Minho lingering in the background, purposely keeping his distance. Memories that you could have had with him instead. Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you back away.

“I can’t do this, Minho, not right now, I can’t–”

“I know.” He’s at the door before you can stop him, one foot on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaves before you can even ask him to stay.

Minho knocks back another shot, stomach churning when he sees Junho approach the pretty brunette, chatting her up. She’s batting her eyelashes and giggling at him, and he knows he should be grateful that his best friend is helping him out, on a desperate mission to cure Minho’s singleness.

But all he can focus on is you in the corner, nervously watching your boyfriend flirt with another girl, and Minho wants to vomit when he sees your lip tremble, eyes glassy with tears.

He’d driven himself nearly mad with the fantasies about what he’d do if he was in Junho’s position, how much better he could treat you. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Fantasies. You two were happy together, and he had no place in it.

Minho suddenly remembers the shiny ring that Junho had shown him last week, tucked away in the drawer of his dresser, and decides promptly that he needs to step outside, the stale air of the bar burning his nostrils.

There’s a faint breeze outside, and it calms him, rewiring his muddled senses enough for him to plop down on the curb. Minho heaves, the alcohol coming back up his throat, but he tries his best to breathe deeply, like his therapist had told him. The pity in her eyes when he’d explained his feelings for you lingers in the back of his mind. You were a vice he couldn’t quit.

A shadow looms next to him, and Minho looks over to see you standing on the curb next to him, studying him curiously.

“Not a fan of cheap vodka?” you chuckle, taking a seat next to him, and Minho internally curses when he feels your thighs brush. He was too drunk for this.

“Just needed some air,” he tries to laugh it off too. “Gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“She was pretty,” the statement startles him. He couldn’t give less of a damn about the girl Junho was talking to, but it seems that wasn’t the case for you.

“Not interested,” he grits out. Not when she’s not you.

“You know, dating isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” you sigh. “I mean, there are good times, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times feel a thousand times worse when you care about someone. Like seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl right in front of you.”

There’s a bitter edge to your words, and Minho surprises you, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head towards him.

“Junho is a fool,” the words come out in a slow, heavy breath.

“Happy birthday, Minho,” you whisper, a small smile on your face, and Minho leans in, lips searching for yours. The kiss is quick, a brief graze full of shy reluctance, but you’re surprised you don’t back away, dizzy when he retreats, and missing the feeling of his soft lips.

You lean your head on his shoulder, the two of you lingering on the curb for a few moments, before Junho’s loud voice echoes in the background, startling you apart from each other.

“Hey dipshits, the party’s inside,” he drawls, walking over to swoop you off your feet. Junho presses a peck to your cheek, wrapping his jacket around you, and your eyes roam around frantically, looking for any sign of Minho. But he’s already gone, the faint outline of his leather jacket the only thing you see before he disappears around the corner of the bar, vanishing into the night.

Minho stumbles through the forest, the pounding in his head only growing worse, the memory of the kiss you’d shared consuming his thoughts, splintered with snippets from the conversation with you. The one he’d been waiting so long to have.

The spell had been shattered, and Minho thinks he’s foolish to imagine that it could have lasted, the two of you playing house together, and he cursed the false hope he’d harboured for so long. It was a fucking apocalypse, you were desperate for release, and you’d never cared. Not like he did.

But then his mind flashes back to the kiss, and he doesn’t know what possessed him that night, or possessed you to return it. The moment was the single spark that kept the flickering flame of his love for you going, even now, when you’d basically banished him.

A sharp pain surges through him, and Minho staggers to the ground. He clutches the fabric of his shirt, lifting it up to see the ugly wound he’d been letting fester for weeks, a stray swipe from a monster he’d run into. It’s pulsating now, stabbing into his side, and he wants to kick himself. Why had he been so selfless?

Sometimes, he thinks loving you was the worst decision he’d ever made, the way it consumed him completely. He thinks that maybe if time could reverse, and he had a second chance, that he’d never do it, never lock eyes with you from across the party, your smile forever etched into his memory. But that was a lie. Minho knew he’d do it all again for as long as his heart continued to beat.

Minho feels something squelch on the ground below him, a metallic tang hitting the back of his throat. He swipes at it, crimson coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He presses a tentative hand to his face, swiping at his leaking nose, but the bleeding won’t stop. There’s too much of it.

Minho screams when his spine cracks, the pain splitting through his entire body, and he feels his eyes roll back into his head.

When he opens them again, the world is dark. And he runs.

. . .

Your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, parched for air as you make your way through the forest, wobbling through the trees, looking for something, anything that could lead you to Minho.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, accompanied by a ringing that hasn’t ceased since you left the bunker. The decision still made your stomach turn, afraid to confront the outside world without Minho by your side, but you had to find him. Had to let him know that you wouldn’t let him suffer anymore.

Mind lingering on a specific memory from Minho’s birthday, you realized there’d always been a strange undercurrent between you, even when Junho had been around. Despite how many times he drew away from you, you never let him escape completely. At first, you’d thought it was because he was Junho’s friend, but it all changed after that night outside the bar, your attraction to Minho settling in your chest like a lead weight.

You think back to the months you’d spent together, the world falling apart around you, and how Minho had become your entire world, the reason you’d continued to hope. How you’d fallen in love with every part of him, from the way he’d let you take the first share of food to the messy strands of his grown-out hair.

The wind whips through your hair, the dense cover of trees thinning around you, and you stumble upon the meadow, a lone figure illuminated in the moonlight. You know it’s him.

“Minho!” you scream, watching as he stumbles across the field in response, trying to get away from you. “Minho!”

You scream until your voice runs hoarse, fighting through the pain in your ankle, and eventually, Minho draws closer and closer, collapsing in the middle of the field. His back is turned to you, and he ducks his head, avoiding your gaze.

You think he’ll run away when you approach him, but he remains lifeless, as still as a statue. Crouching down beside him, you lift his chin, turning his face up to you, a gasp caught in your throat at what you find.

There’s something wrong with his eyes. They shift from the dark brown irises you’d come to know to hollow pools of black. His face is smeared with blood, and his breathing is shallow.

“____, you have to go, I’m turning, it’s not safe, I’m not safe–,” Minho grabs your arm, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His speech is garbled, but you can hear the gentle tone of his voice still trapped inside. He’s still Minho.

“How dare you tell me to run,” you hiss at him. “How dare you tell me to leave?”

“You don’t understand,” he growls, hands shaking in rage. “I’m a monster!”

Fear strikes you at the realization that something was very wrong with him, something neither you or him had ever been able to anticipate. But it’s overcome by a stronger, more profound emotion.

“I don’t care,” you take his face in your hands again. “I love you, Minho. I loved you through the world ending, and I’ll love you through this. Because your life is mine now, just like mine is yours. It’s our second chance. And we will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Minho clasps your hands in his, fingertips rubbing against your knuckles, and you smile when you notice that his eyes are normal again, no longer filled with darkness. Maybe there was a chance.

“We’ll head west,” Minho rests his forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I saw a hospital nearby. Maybe there are other survivors, people just like us.”

You nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your head into the crook of his neck. The two of you would exit west as soon as the sun rose, ready to start a new journey together.

Perhaps the life you shared was far from perfect but you realized that you’d clutched onto it as desperately as him, because he was the only thing you had. You were each other’s home.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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skeletoninthemelonland · 1 month

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Sorry for sending another ask so soon, but-

Don't be shy, spit the frog (italian way to say spill the tea)

I WANNA KNOWWWNWNFNGNG

okay i'm spilling some of the frogs, the tea, I WILL DESEMBUCHAR (word for spilling the truth in portuguese)

springtrap and bell (ballora) do know each other but from a certain distance (he's with the phantoms, and she belongs in the funtime crew). there's never this 'strange feeling' that they've met before because, literally... they never met!

the reason for them to be arguing a lot is due to remnant usage, whose importance is constantly brought up in the universe of BTC. springtrap uses them for his own selfish purposes, while bell is searching for more to help a friend stay active, amongst other reasons that involve the safety and entertainment of backstage residents.

bell is one of the very few bots that has directly confronted springtrap for his actions and usual mean behavior (sometimes on the same level of aggressiveness, other times a single glare is enough). she refuses to stay silent and reality downs on him that the stuff he's saying and doing is harming people.

they are basically the closest thing to human adults in this digitalized city of ghost children, with bell sacrificing a lot more of her time protecting those around her than springtrap (especially before they met)

bell is a chaotic, stubborn altruistic type paired up with self-destructive tendencies as a defense mechanism, considering she is painfully aware of her purpose as a child killing, remnant harvester robot. springtrap contrasts that part of her personality by being aloof, cautious and egocentric, and by pushing others away, acting as if the world revolves around his success in escaping UCN and becoming one with the entity. these contrasting traits often generate conflict, especially later on, when more secrets are revealed.

i like to think they help each other learn from their mistakes with this dumb, tom and jerry beef they have going on, but saying there's any hint of romantic love between them in the beginning feels objectively wrong (considering the amount of times springtrap has said hurtful and otherwise mean things to her).

both are competitive by nature. expect them to be counting how many remnants they caught in a single night.

the more they get to know each other the more they display their true selves, ofc. springtrap has a quieter, observant, genuinely concerned side where he listens instead of talking over people in that loud, cheeky and arrogant tone. bell seems to be a lot more of an anxious and impatient person, thoughts racing at all times and sometimes causing her to shut everyone out. black cat and orange cat behavior, respectively.

they often debate about human nature and the limits of artificial intelligence, and how they, two self-aware small pieces of a larger puzzle stuck in a digital dimension, fit inside these two labels. both are detached from either concepts, meanings losing importance the further they investigate. still, that doesn't stop them from displaying unwavering support whenever one is lost and afraid (works for both).

hand on shoulder, "are you alright?" glances, lending his cape, handmade gifts and favors. springtrap doesn't know how to be comforting, but he makes an effort.

he's more comfortable being secretive and working behind the curtains. events like claw machines suddenly functioning again, entire stages being repaired in a single night, random input of remnants in the electrical system, abandoned areas appearing tidy and organized... (they still wonder who's behind it all...)

when bell first showed up at the workshop for a simple repairs session, he took off her illusion disks and disabled the part of her programming that submitted to William Afton's orders. with that, the entity lost influence over her actions, and as a consequential effect, her eyes glow a bright yellow color, instead of the usual pink/purple hue.

compliments (lots of them), getting excited over the other's achievements, eagerly asking about their favorite topics. bell is that "saw this meme and thought of you" type of person.

scolding. both scold each other all the time. scolding as in "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING" and "oh wow that's the greatest idea you've ever had. i'm surprised we aren't dead because of your absolute GENIUS of a plan (/loudly sarcastic)"

#inbox #PHEW #behind the codes #starbstalks

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atsadi-shenanigans · 2 months

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Tightrope and Lace

Astarion has a proposition: you’d look lovely in rope. And you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to dress for the occasion. Rated extremely Explicit.

Like a lotta questionable decisions in your life, this one also starts with four words.

“I have a proposition, darling.”

Okay, so that’s five words. But Astarion uses “darling” the same way the man deigns to breathe, so it don’t count.

It’s an hour after sundown. The last traces of pink light smear low on the horizon, behind the lit towers and buildings of the city. Warmth still clings to the stones of y’all’s townhouse, and your hair is still damp from your bath.

Astarion pads up behind you, and his cool fingers trace softly down the back of your neck. A shiver races along after them. Which he know’ll happen.

“Uh huh?” you say all non-committal, because the last time he said that to you it involved a phial of arsonists oil, the city watch, and the stray cat incident.

Y’all are still in your sleepwear. Well, he is. Soft, loose trousers and his bare chest against your back. You actually had to throw on a mumu (they call it a shift) after bathing, and that bitch is see-through in direct light, but y’all ain’t expecting visitors and it’s chilly enough you don’t want to walk around bare today.

(Fuck the heat.)

That mumu is thin enough you feel the first stirring of his intent against your ass.

“Uh huh,” you say, much more interested.

He nuzzles in, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. Down the side of your neck to drag his teeth over the fain scars you now carry there.

Feeding and fucking ain’t always synonymous with him—sometimes a man is just plain old hungry. It often is, though, and his cock is definitely starting to pay attention.

“Come back to bed,” he says.

“I’m hungry.”

He hums. Nibbles at you again and his hands move to your front. One lifts to cup a breast, while the other trails down, down to slip between your legs.

“So am I,” he says and he had to’ve practiced that line.

Except you’re up and washed for a reason. The night market is opening, and y’all are getting low on provisions. You want soup, goddamnit, and y’all are somehow out of both onions and fucking salt. Plus, if you get there soon, you can grab yourself a chicken before they all get snatched up (thank you Gale for teaching you how to defeather and dress them little dumplings).

(Ooh, chicken and dumplings sounds great.)

So you, very reluctantly, push his hands away. Turn in the circle of his arms—you don’t get a chance to talk before he leans in for a kiss. He’s gentle, this evening. You fall into it a little, until his teeth find your lower lip.

This’ll get out of control (y’all have fucked on this counter more than once already). And you need provisions.

So you break off. He tries to follow, and groans when you don’t let him.

“So selfish, leaving me here like this,” the man whines.

And the idea blooms in your mind. Your breath catches and a tendril of warmth shoots between your legs. Astarion, with his fucking vampire hearing honed in on your cardiac uptick, raises an eyebrow and a sly smile slides across his face.

“What if, um,” you say. “What if you weren’t the only one left wanting?”

“Oh?”

Your cheeks are warm. You bite your lip (and catch how he stares).

“What if we got the rope?”

The rest on AO3 cause I don't wanna get thrown into horny jail.

#astarion smut #bg3 smut #tightrope and lace #these two shitheads #tavstarion #astarion x tav #astarion x eleanor #astarion in lingerie #smutfic #eleanor in rope

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

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Ghost x City Girl Reader

No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. And then, tonight happens…

NSFW 18+ Eventual Smut, Porn with Plot, Romance, Drama, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Mentions of Alcohol, Slight Slow Burn, Hatemance, Jealousy, Bickering, Teasing, Flirting, Reader is a mean girl, Ghost is an asshole, but the chemistry's there, Slowly gets steamier as it goes, slight hints of Reader x Gaz, 'cause why not

Word Count: 4.2k

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Masterlist

A/N: Finally finished this (was super nervous to post this for some reason)! This was inspired after binge-watching a shit ton of Bad Girl's Club on Tubi. I just know Ghost and a City Girl wouldn't get along at first, but I love dynamics that look like they wouldn't work. Part two is where the smut is, but I like build-up and stuff, so I turned a one-shot smut piece into a two-parter. I hope you enjoy ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

"Ayy~" You rest your hands on your knees in a joyous fashion, readying yourself to start shaking your ass. "Let's get it bitch!"

Music blared on the club speakers, the crowd growing hyped as the sounds of Pink Panties from Baby Keem serenaded the drunken patrons all looking to have a good night.

That third daiquiri had caught up to you, your mind buzzing and your heart racing. The swell of the crowd dancing around you puts you in a euphoric trance. All you can comprehend is the warmth in the air, the taste of alcohol behind your teeth, and the way the beat makes your skin vibrate as you dance.

Your face expresses every bit of the drunken euphoria you were feeling, letting it bring your hands seductively down your body, pulling in any who dare come, if they're brave enough.

You and the rest of 141 came just at the perfect time; the club was just starting to get busy but it hadn't yet grown too packed. Chatter and laughter picked up and the music got better the more you drank. The vibe was just right…

…Almost.

Across from the dance floor, at the corner of the bar where he'd been standing all night, Ghost watches you dance, unamused, with dark eyes leering at you from afar.

He observes the way your hips sway to the music like it were his own, private video. All night he's been watching you, his gaze lingering just a little longer each time; though, it hadn't been any less unwelcoming.

If he watched any longer he might just excuse himself, so that he may relieve the tension that's built between you. Deep down he knew you knew that too. It's thus created a notable, stormy cloud over his head all night, one you undoubtedly took joy in seeing.

Your eyes play with him across the sea of dancing heads between you, taunting him, teasing him, and letting him know just how much better than him you thought you were. The same eyes he's grown accustomed to for a long time now.

Codename: Spice. He couldn't think of a more fitting name for such a hot-headed woman, seeing as "Bitch" wasn't acceptable. You joined the team maybe a year or so ago. Much too long for Ghost to have counted.

When Laswell initially brought you in, the entire Task Force was in an UPROAR. You'd been a well-decorated soldier, to say the least, however, what merits and awards you held almost paled in comparison to the rap sheet of complaints and discrepancies you possessed.

Fighting. Disobedience. Disorderly Conduct. Fraternization. Etcetera. Etcetera.

And as if that weren't enough, you were a complete and utter bitch as well. Especially to Ghost, who you've singled out in particular. If defending your country was your day job, then being the thorn in Ghost's side had become your newest evening hobby.

Any chance you had, you were picking on the man. Your comments teetered back and forth between being harsh and petty, and once you knew he didn't like you, you just doubled down on the behavior. And it didn't matter what approach the man took to this; he could ignore you, or he could get loud, but nothing deterred you.

It wasn't often that someone got under Ghost's skin; he always did model himself on control and discipline. With all the horrible people he's managed to meet in his lifetime (and not even being in his mid 30's yet either), naturally, it would take a lot to truly irritate the man. And by no means were you the worse person he's ever interacted with before either.

But you've always been more akin to that of a tick; any time you got a chance to get under his skin, you dug in, and you dug deep.

Ghost would applaud you for how intensive you were with your pettiness. Nearly as cold, ruthless, and calculated with that as you were with your enemies on the field. God forbid someone actually steps up to you, less they suffer a broken nose or a black eye. You were Queen B and you wanted everyone to know it.

Ghost, however, was less than interested in feeding into your silly little ego.

Even now, your eyes haven't left Ghost's since you started dancing again, time moving at a snail's pace in your gazes. Knowing that the sight of you pisses him off.

Right then, as you danced, some poor woman made an attempt at courting him as he sat alone, brooding to himself. You never were one to diss a girl's taste, you guess. Not out loud, at least.

This woman, wearing her ill-fitted skirt and tacky make-up, had been getting sloppy drunk with her friends in a corner for the last hour, eyeing Ghost from across the bar just as long. At some point, she thought it'd be a wise time to swoop in and make her move.

Ghost notices this because he's now felt a stranger's hand touch his arm. Had he not looked first to see who it was, he would have been seconds away from instinctually sending his elbow back to flex their hand from him, which would have definitely connected with the woman's face.

The woman practically jolts once she sees she's startled him, however, she attempts to cover it with a laugh. "Hi," she greets.

"Can I help you?" Ghost asks, though he couldn't sound any less interested.

"I was just over there with my friends and-"

"You should get back to them."

A state of shock whiplashes on her face before she huffs and stomps back over to her friends. Ghost didn't even watch as she left; he had more pressing matters to attend to.

You smirk at Ghost, seeing this from where you dance. The man makes it so easy to push his buttons, just look at him. He doesn't even look like he wants to be here tonight, more dressed like he was about to rob a bank than go out drinking with his mates.

Frankly, you're shocked he even showed up. Clubs seemed like the last place you'd catch him, and you were right. However, Gaz and Soap giving the lieutenant a hard time as of late finally pushed him into coming out with everyone. And of course, it had to be on the night you got to choose the spot too. You'd been sick of dive bars and small get-togethers, however, so you chose a club in a heartbeat, naysayers be damned.

"Hey Kyle~" You wave for Gaz, catching his eye in the crowd. He and Soap had both been drinking just as much as you since arriving, getting dragged off by every single woman within a five-foot radius of them.

You lost Soap fifteen minutes ago, and here Gaz was now, having been able to finally rid himself of his unwanted groupies. Good thing too; you need someone to dance on, and you wanted to give your lieutenant a show.

Gaz has already grooved his way over to you the second your eyes invited him over. Lord knows he's wanted a piece since you arrived, though you saved the real promiscuity for men outside your workplace; less messy that way. You'll gladly have them chase you though.

Once in reach, you bring your arms to his shoulders and wrap them loosely around his neck, smelling the Gin and Tonic on his breath and the citrus scent of his cologne, though it's since been mixed with an array of other colognes and perfumes. His hands find your sides, settling into your hips, with drunken smiles growing between you the more comfortable you grew.

What were once innocent brushes of the legs and hip twirling, soon devolves into something a little less PG. Before long you've both found your rhythm, swaying your hips along to the music and moving together as one unit.

You whip your body around, grinding your ass against Gaz, pressing yourself back roughly against him. You make sure he can hear you laugh at him after you've heard the little gasp he let out too. However, you can play with more than one person at a time, and the Sergeant hadn't been the only one you were playing with at the moment.

The whole time, you've kept your eyes locked on the lieutenant's from across the floor, a devilish smile forming. Had Soap not bumped into Ghost suddenly, who's to say how long Ghost would have spent watching you, his bourbon held sternly in his gloved hand.

"Ghost!" Soap bellows out, cheeks a rosy pink from his drink, and lips painted in a large grin. The man had certainly been attempting to give you a run for your money in terms of enjoying himself tonight. The smeared lipstick stains near the base of his neck only said as much. Both men and women tonight had been swooning over his accent and muscles since he stepped foot in the building. Ghost had already written the man off for the night altogether.

"Still standin' 'ere all by yer lonesome, L.T.?"

"Been the best seat in the house," Ghost says dryly.

Soap follows Ghost's gaze, until he's found you on the dance floor with your eyes closed and your head cocked back, Gaz's head buried in the crook of your neck. Immediately, he knows what's going on, having seen this before.

"Tsk. Tsk. What a she-devil," Soap shakes his head. "Poor lad."

"Should know better by now," Ghost comments. "Girls like that love bein' teases."

Oh, Soap knows already; he learned that the hard way the last time you all went out drinking and you sent him home with the deepest set of blue balls he's ever felt in his life. "Aye," he sighs.

"I've no idea what you lot see in 'er," Ghost says.

"Eh, she's not so bad once you get to know her," Soap shrugs. "You two are a lot more alike than you think."

"I doubt that," Ghost turned back around at the bar, settling in his seat and placing his drink back on the counter. Soap had been ready to join him, however, some tiny woman that's been attached to his hip all night returned (who also conveniently wore the same shade of lipstick as what was smeared on his neck), pulling his attention away. Before long, the lieutenant was alone once more.

You two are a lot more alike than you think.

Now that's a joke. Ghost can't imagine you've gone through even half of what he's been through. Still, it wasn't like you two have ever actually sat down and talked to one another before. It seems nigh impossible to.

Though it wasn't for a lack of trying on your end.

The presence of another human at Ghost's side brings his eyes drearily over, until they've begrudgingly fallen onto you. It seems you grew bored of dancing, and now decided to take your teasing to the source itself.

"Enjoy the show?" you ask him teasingly, knowing you'll most likely not receive a reply, which you don't. Ghost doesn't even fully face you, keeping his eyes pointed ahead of himself at the bar. He hadn't been looking to talk, and it's not like his reply would change anything you had to say. You did invite yourself over.

"You know, Manchester," You lean against the bar, looking up at the man, just close enough to hear him over the club music and smell the cologne and cigarette smoke on him. "Instead of starin' like a creep, why don't you actually take that stick out your ass and come dance."

Now you're just taking the piss. Ghost finally gives you a look, though he wishes he hadn't. Up close, he's seeing this skimpy little, lowcut tight dress you've got on, with your fishnet stockings and heels. The black choker around your neck was simple, and just begging for someone to tug it off you, and the lipgloss you wore looked like it tasted sweet on your tongue.

Years of training and experience are everything it takes to keep his eyes from dropping any lower than your collarbone. Just in his peripherals, Ghost can see how bouncy and voluptuous they sat in your dress.

You got this cocky look on your face now. "I'll dance with you."

Ghost scoffs. "Not a chance."

"Aw, I get it," you say sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to embarrass myself out there either."

"This place can only handle so much of that with you already out there."

This conversation felt as old as time between you two. If it wasn't you being catty and mean, then it was Ghost being aloof and guarded. While you knew he had been implying your little performance on the dance floor earlier, you were as quick with your tongue as your lieutenant.

And you can't lie, you'd been itching for some good banter all night. You'll take it from anyone, even from the likes of Ghost.

"Please," you laugh. "As if your big ass could actually move out there. I bet you can't even do the two-step."

"I'm sure you'd wanna know," Ghost says.

You reach over, and by your own boundless curiosity, take his drink, inviting yourself to a sip. The bourbon burns your throat as you swallow, your nose scrunching. You smile as you see Ghost's gaze razor focus on your lips pressing to the cool glass of his drink, taking a small sip and letting your tongue chase its remnants over your bottom lip. It's just the way he does so, so unabashedly, that you can't help but giggle at.

"I already know everything I need to, honey."

Ghost turns his body to fully face you now, his massive height over you only now becoming apparent by the shadow it casts. It's intimidated most of the women at the club tonight, whenever Ghost wouldn't just do it himself. No such thing went on with you, however.

He's been sitting here by himself all night, and as much as he could list a plethora of others he'd prefer to be standing here with at the moment, he had you. If you'd use him for your own uncaring amusement, then he'll do the same, since you want to bring that side out of him so badly.

"And what's that?" he asks.

"That you're boring as fuck and have a stick up your ass," you say bluntly. Of course, Ghost didn't expect any less from you. You do this sober, just with less pep to your speech, unlike now. "Though I'm sure you're already aware of that."

"How original," Ghost says dryly. "It take you long to think that one up?"

"I only tell it like I see it."

"Wha' then," Ghost's gaze turns stone cold, doing all it can not to give you a way in. "Gaz wasn't enough? Now you've come to make yourself easy pickin's for the next sorry lad lookin' for an easy lay?"

"Ooo, feisty." You lean in now, resting your hand on the bar counter so you could prop yourself up, giving yourself what little height you can against your unmoving opponent.

"I wouldn't fuck you if you paid me," you say.

"I wouldn't fuck you for charity."

"I wouldn't fuck you if my life depended on it," you shoot back. "As if you could even handle me, Manchester."

"What's there to handle?" he taunts. "You're nothin' but talk. You bark like a bitch and puff your chest, but it's all show. Just a way to make yourself feel big. No surprise you make yourself the local slag; any lad with some sense surely wouldn't bother."

Oh, that comment strikes a nerve; you feel your eyebrow twitch and your blood begin to simmer the second he closes his stupid, British mouth.

"Who're you callin' a bitch and a slag?" You step up now like there's a problem now. "How about you come back with some new material when you can actually talk to me without that little safety blanket on your face, Manchester. It's easy to talk shit when you've got something to hide behind. And you call me unoriginal."

You take his drink and pour it out on the counter now, watching it spill over the surface and drip onto the floor. When you meet his gaze again, if looks could kill, you'd both be dead. You just wasted a good cup of fucking bourbon.

"Do somethin' about it," you taunt him.

He steps forward, and for a small second, you think the man might actually do something. However, it had merely been an intimidation tactic, a warning. He stops just a few inches shy of you, keeping his strong arms crossed over his chest.

Ghost would love to, oh, believe him. It's taking all of him not to say something really foul to you and truly ruin the whole night for everyone. And you don't stop at the drink either.

You step even closer now, keeping your head cocked back and your eyes on him. You're close enough now to feel the body heat bouncing off from him, vibrating the more irritated he grew.

"Do something," you say again. "You just gonna let some slag pour your drink out like that?"

You raise your hand up as though you're about to smack him, and that's what finally gets him to move. Ghost catches your tiny wrist in his hand, his grip tight as he holds you there.

"What the fuck-" You grimace at first, your fight-or-flight instincts telling you to try and tug your hand out of his grip and use your other to sock him straight. However, something differently entirely occurs in you suddenly.

You take a moment to really feel his hand on your wrist, how the slightest adjustment of his thumb made a chill trickle up your arm, and that he was the closest he's ever stood next to you outside of work. The man might irritate you, and he was an asshole, but Goddamn did he have an inviting pair of hands and some magnetic eyes on him. Eyes that seemed just as curious to outline all the makings of your figure.

You kind of liked it.

He must like it too, judging from how he hasn't made any attempts at letting go. But there had been a million different things running through his mind right now, all of which made him question himself.

He thought about all the ways he could overpower you right now; you gab on like you're big, and there were so many times he's just wanted to remind you of your size. Small enough to be bound and at his mercy if he so pleased. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but the thought sounded intriguing.

Your arm settles in his strong grip, your eyelids lowering as you look his masked face up and down, trying to observe his dark eyes in the dim lights. They look to you, trying to guess your next move, though even you couldn't be sure.

You take your other hand and you place it on his chest, just to see if you can. All this time you've known him, you've never actually done so before. You feel your fingers rest against him, and even beneath the fabric of his hoodie, you feel his heart racing.

The club music finally dies down, preparing to switch to its next song. With maybe just a few inches of space between you, it feels as though it's only the two of you in this entire room at this moment.

But just then, you're interrupted. Soap wasn't too far away and must have started picking up on the vibe's shifting, because he couldn't cut between the two of you fast enough.

"Alright," he steps between you two, a drunken smile still on his face. "That'll do you two."

His presence does little to take your eyes off each other, merely looking through the Sergeant, still trying to see if either one of you would say something else. As expected, it's you who does first.

"We were just about to dance," you look over at Ghost with a playful smile. "Isn't that right, Manchester?"

Ghost looks down at you. He almost wants to say no. However, he found himself curious suddenly to see where you might take things. He hadn't felt quite done with you yet, himself.

"That's right."

Soap looks flabbergasted by this. "Yer gonna dance, L.T.?"

"We'll try not to make too much of a scene," you tease.

You take hold of Ghost's hand, feeling his grip tense in your grasp, as you pulled him out onto the dance floor. Woman by Doja Cat just started and you were ready to rock this man's world.

Even with everything going on around, heads turn as you both pass by, noticing the tall, masked figure making his way onto the dance floor with this overly enthusiastic party girl who looks nothing like his type.

You find a spot just on the edge of the crowd, where the lights were low and your team could not see you. Once there, you watch Ghost stand awkwardly, waiting for you to start moving first. It's not like you needed him to do much anyway.

You ease into your dance, beginning with light footwork and hip twirling, letting the music guide its rhythm through your legs. Ghost did an odd shuffle to start, not doing much beyond moving his feet. Once he grew more comfortable, however, you learned that he could in fact do the two-step... If you sucked all the atmosphere out of it at least.

The music picks up, and you bring your hands up to his muscular shoulders, gently resting them there similarly to how you did with Gaz earlier. Only unlike the Sergeant, Ghost seemed reluctant to fully give in to your charms. He wouldn't even bring himself to touch you, just letting you use him like a pole.

You bring your head in close, shouting over the music so that he can hear you, "You're an asshole, you know."

Ghost rolls his eyes. "You're a bitch."

Growing impatient, you boldly take his hands and place them on your hips for him, feeling your skin tingle as his fingers settle against your hipbones. The hesitancy subsides once you start guiding him along with you slowly, easing him into the high tempo of the music.

"And proud of it."

You turn around and press yourself to the lieutenant, feeling your ass brush against his jeans and the grunt that leaves his chest. All he's left with now is the smell of the shampoo you'd used in your hair and the shape of your bottom against his groin. You tell him, "I'm not here to impress you."

He leans in, until you've felt his masked lips brush against the shell of your ear. His voice all but rumbles through you, "And I'm not here to entertain you."

"Aren't you?" You bend over, bringing your hands to your ankles and seductively sliding them back up your legs, and making sure each time you made your ass shake that he could feel it even through his jeans. You'd give anything to see his face right now. "Say what you want," you tease. "I don't give a fuck."

This time he doesn't shy away from letting his hands slide alongside you, stopping just at your waist so that you can still move yourself freely against him. "Yeah, you do," he all but says in a seductive growl. "Why else are we here now?"

You tilt your head back and look up to find Ghost's eyes leering down at you, half-lidded. You watch him slowly start to lose himself, his mind chasing after that brief feeling of arousal you shot through him each time you pressed yourself to him.

"I don't know," you take hold of Ghost's hands again, only this time when you rest them back at your hips, you keep your hands there, holding them. "But it takes two to dance, Manchester."

"Let's dance then."

Once the words subsided, and the club music drowned out any and everything else on the dance floor, the only thing that could be felt was the ecstasy of Ghost's body pressed so close to yours. His large hands explore your small form smoothly, letting you slide your own hands up his arms, feeling his warmth of him. He molds into your movements easily, eyes never leaving yours, with battered breaths shared between you.

Your hands stretch above your head as your bottom hugs your black little dress tightly. The fabric stretches each time you drop your ass to give it another spin, lights bouncing off you both in a mesh of glittery purples and dark blues.

Every time they do you've felt you've seen a new side of Ghost. A side of him that felt hungry for something no good for him. Though he would be in good company; there wasn't a good man left in him to spare if you kept on him like you have been all night, both in body and tongue.

Had the song not come to an end, who's to say what parts of him you would have ground on next, or what parts of your body his hands would find themselves rhythmically groping.

You turn to the lieutenant, out of breath as he is. Of course, you had been moving your body much more than he. You suppose he can save that energy for later.

"You've got any smokes on you?" you ask him, though you both know where questions like that'll get you.

"Left 'em in my car."

"Why don't you give me one?"

Part Two

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #ghost #Spotify

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lulublack90 · 4 months

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Prompt 27 - Blind Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 27, word count 984

Sirius had agreed to go on a new TV show designed for you to basically pick a blind date. It was hosted by a blonde that he couldn’t quite remember her name. Nita, Tina?

He was behind the scenes being prepped by a producer or something.

He was placed behind the stage, ready to go on when he was called. With him was the presenter. He still couldn’t remember her name. She completely ignored him and barked orders at her poor PA.

“Ready when you are Ms. Skeeter.” A woman with a headset and microphone said.

“Good, let’s get this over with.” She said with a total lack of enthusiasm.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s Blind Date, and here is your host, Ms Rita Skeeter!” The announcer told the audience. Rita burst through from the side of the stage, waving and blowing kisses at her cheering audience.

“Hello and welcome to Blind Date.” Rita smiled, opening her arms wide. “We have three lovely young men all hoping to go on a blind date tonight and here they are!” She swept her arms to the side and that was the last Sirius saw, as he was promptly spun around so he couldn’t see the stage.

“He shouldn’t have been left here!” Someone shouted. “He can’t see the contestants, that's the whole point of the show.”

He was rushed to another part of the backstage while Rita introduced the three men he was going to choose between.

“Right you’re on,” He was suddenly pushed out a little door and onto the main stage.

There was a single chair in the middle of the stage and a large partition, blocking his view of the others.

“Hello, Sirius!” Rita gushed. “Sirius is from London and from what I’ve seen, all of our contestants will want to take him home.” Sirius sat in the chair, holding the cards with his pre-written questions. “Right, Sirius, you have your questions, so let’s get started!” The crowd clapped as Sirius cleared his throat.

“I’m a boy who likes a good time. I don’t like to be bored. If you could keep me entertained, what would we do? Er, contestant number 1.” He spoke clearly.

“What an excellent question, Sirius, but let’s make sure to keep our answers clean gentlemen.” Rita spoke a bit louder over the partition. The crowd ate her words up.

“Well, I’d take you to my favourite spa and treat you to a bit of pampering and then, after that, I have a box at the theatre.” Contestant number 1 answered. Sirius pulled a face, he was bored already.

“Er, thanks number 1. Number 2, same question.” He hoped it was better than the last.

“I’d take you to the races and then out for an elegant dinner at the savoy before we head back to mine for drinks looking out over the Thames.” Was the answer number 2 gave. Sirius rolled his eyes, fat chance of that happening. He felt like giving up already.

“Sounds like fun,” He tried to smile. “Number 3 your turn.”

Number three took a second to answer.

“I’d take you on a tour of London,” Oh lord, Sirius thought, all duds. “But the secret London. I know where the hidden passageways are and the gorier stories to tell. I’d probably end up at my favourite bookshop, which has a fireplace and café where we could curl up with a good book before we go out in the dark to search for the hundreds of ghosts that are meant to haunt London.” Sirius was literally on the edge of his seat. He didn’t need to hear anymore. He'd already decided who he wanted.

“Oooo, such different answers,” Rita cooed. “Next question, Sirius,”

“Dogs or cats? For all three again.”

“Cat,”

“Neither,” That one got a boo.

“Dogs,” Sirius smiled. He shuffled to his last card.

“How do you feel about motorbikes?” He had his fingers crossed.

“Love, love, love, them,”

“Sorry, no. They don't agree with my hair.”

“Hate, not a chance you’ll get me on one.” Well, 2 out of 3 at least.

“Alright Sirius, you’ve asked your questions, do you know who you’re going to pick?” Rita asked, trying to look serious. He nodded.

“Yes, contestant number 3.” Cheers erupted from the crowd.

“Let’s see who you didn’t pick. Come on over number 1.” A tall dark-skinned handsome gentleman walked around the partition. “Kingsley, such a shame,” Rita shook her head. Sirius shook Kingsley's hand, and he walked off the stage. “Number 2,” Rita called. A blonde man, who’d clearly spent too much time on his appearance. “Poor, poor, Gilderoy. Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll find someone,” Gilderoy waved at the crowd and blew them kisses, forgetting to shake Sirius’s hand before he left. “And finally, the moment we’ve been waiting for. Sirius’s pick. Let me introduce Remus!” Rita cheered.

Remus walked around and Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. Remus looked shyly at him and rewarded him with a smile. Sirius forgot he was on a TV show and took Remus’s hand before trying to lead him off the stage. “Wait!” Rita called," we have to give you your getaway prize.”

Reluctantly, Sirius led Remus back across the stage and waited for Rita to continue. “Well, Sirius and Remus, we are sending you on a weekend trip to the lake district. What do you think of that?”

“It sounds wonderful Rita, thank you very much. Now, if you don’t mind, this one’s got a tour to start.” That time he ignored everyone and he and Remus made their escape.

“Hi,” He said once they were outside.

“Hi,” Remus said back. Sirius knew just from sight that he and Remus would work out. So, being a bit cheeky, he pushed Remus up against the side of the recording studio and leaned in for a kiss. Remus closed the gap and that was that.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar au #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #rita skeeter #kingsley shacklebolt #gilderoy lockhart #did i watch old episodes of blind date?#yes i did #sirius loves his motorbikes #remus does not #sirius picked well #love at first sight #blind date

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extremelyexh4usted · 2 years

Text

scenario reversal based my previous shiggy fic (what if the reader was playing a game instead of shiggy?)

NSFW, chubby!reader coded, no race implied? reader has a vag but other than saying good girl and princess once, gendered terms aren’t used, praise kink, fingering, previous mentions of sex, getting hickies, unrealistic fingering since no lube will be used, reader already provided more than enough lubricant, squirting implied

correct me if i’m wrong/missed anything in the above description 🙏☺️

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dont read if under 17

if y’all saw my accidental posting of an earlier draft, no you didn’t🤠 and sorry if this is ass😬

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you just wanted to take your mind off the ache from yesterday. tenko had a long day and took it out on you, which you thoroughly enjoyed but the both of you did t realize that aftercare should’ve been a little bit more gently handled. it had been a good 7 hours of restless sleep

you were playing animal crossing for a good 30 min already before your favorite person woke up and crawled on the couch, still yawning. you sat up when he scooted over and put his head on your lap. his eyes were shut, exhausted too. a whimper was heard “morning handsome,” you shot him a soft smile. “mmmmgh..how you feel?,” his face still in between your legs, voice muffled. he flipped over to see your face smiling warmly down at him. even after spending so much time with him you never got sick of how good you felt around him.

the faintest whimper emerged out of your mouth. you held your breath, hoping he didn’t hear it; after all, you were still achy from the night before.

“hey lover?” “yeah babe?,” you replied on edge he knew the state you were in.

he started kissing your neck, leaving kitten licks and bites wherever he could, causing your whimpers to go to full on moaning.

“fuck baby you’re soaking your pants,” you mewled at the feel of his fingers prodding at your overstimmed cunt over your clothes.

he pulled down your pants, and went back to kissing your neck while teasing your hole. “no panties? you were so ready for this weren’t ‘cha? my good girl,” he purred softly.

you preened at the praise, you loved when shiggy made you feel like this. you tried to put down the switch to give tomura some relief but his hand on your wrist gave you a pause. “keep playing, and if i see you pause before you cum, you have no idea how much more sore you’ll be.”

the way your back arched at that was crazy. “tomuraaaa,” you moaned out.

he started to actually touch you instead of the previous ghosting of you like before. you started off to timmy and tommy to sell your peaches and dragonflies, trying to focus on the game instead of the sensations downstairs.

by the time you exited the shop, shigaraki already had 2 fingers inside with another on your clit and your focus wavering.

you started off to water your garden when you felt your orgasm coming. “sh-shit tomuraaa,” “i know baby, i can feel it too, just hold on a little longer yeah? go to blathers and give him your fossils then i’ll let you.”

you don’t think you’ve wished your villager had the ability to sprint more than you did then. after a good minute of running, your orgasm was getting harder to hold back “shiggyyyyyy.. please baby please please can i cum?,” you begged. “just a little longer alright? you’re almost there,” his tone sounded so sweet but you knew he probably had the smile of the cheshire cat if you looked up at him.

as soon as you ran into the museum, you moaned out “please baby i don’t know if i can hold it anymore.” “alright princess let it out. cum for me.”

the single finger on your clit kept stroking as you mewled, coaxing you through your orgasm.

“shit baby you made a mess of the couch. you okay?” “yeah, yeah.. it just felt really good,” you giggled out.

“soooo.. back to bed?” “nah, let’s just stay here for a sec, i gotta plug the switch in.” “clean it off first alright, gotta make sure none of your juices ended up in it.”

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(a/n; tysm for reading🫶 i’ve been going through it with school and being sick but i’m trying to get back into posting again. thanks for the love)

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[image found on rule 34, pretty sure it’s lewdfroggo’s work]

#tired’s posting again🙄#bimbo!reader #shiggy x bimbo #bimbo x shigaraki #gamer!shiggy #incel!shiggy #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #incel shigaraki smut #tired’s smut time #shigaraki tomura #chubby!reader #chubby reader smut

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chickenlizard13 · 1 year

Text

Insatiable Thing

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 5529

Warnings: Fluff, Mature 18+ (definitely no kiddos)

Description: I'm having a great time. Sequel to Home to Me. Takes place in their 7th year.

Merlin, he looked good with his sleeves rolled up.

You stood obscured by a large pillar, eyes raking up and down Garreth’s form as he faced away from you, chatting with a group of other students. He’d discarded his robes, leaving him in a fitted gray vest and black pants. Loosening his house tie, he’d also undone the first couple of buttons, displaying his freckled throat as he threw his head back, laughing attractively.

You’d been playing a game of cat and mouse all day. Sending him teasing looks in class, disappearing when the Bell Tower rang, ghosting a hand over his back as you passed behind him in the hall, never letting him catch you. Which he tried, several times. His hand would shoot out in the direction of your touch, fingers just missing your wrist as you danced out of the way. It’d gotten to the point where he’d drop whatever conversation he was having and stalk after you, a primal look in his eyes, tracking you as you wove between the other students in escape.

Unfortunately for Garreth, you were very good at hiding, vanishing around a corner and watching him growl in frustration at losing you again. However, Garreth could also be very clever when he wanted, so he’d taken measures to make himself more appealing to try and tempt you closer. Hence the rolled sleeves and unbuttoned collar, doing his best to seem unbothered by your antics. He knew you liked him in a more casual state of dress, and also knew his laid back attitude would infuriate you, causing you to get sloppy.

A note floated lazily towards the group, circling around Garreth’s head once before he caught it in his hand. Nodding along with his friends, he opens the note, fingers tightening on the paper slightly, before folding it back up and nonchalantly placing it in his pocket.

The conversation continues, Garreth seemingly unaffected by your note. You knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing, and yet, it irked you to no end that he didn’t even flinch. You wanted to watch the wild desperation in his eyes as he searched the halls for you, see him slowly lose his sanity with each passing moment he didn’t have you.

It was risky, but you were unable to resist the temptation as you thought of that frustrated look on his face, slinking out of your hiding spot to get closer. Even though he seemed relaxed, you knew he was on high alert and you’d have to make a hasty getaway before he caught you.

Breezing up behind him, your hand caresses the nape of his neck, red curls tickling your fingers as you make your escape. Just as you turn to flee, a hand clamps onto your wrist, capturing you. Turning back, you see a triumphant fire blazing in Garreth’s gaze, a wicked smirk gracing his lips.

“Hey sweetheart, there you are. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

His tone is cheery, as if he were truly just greeting you after a day apart, but you could hear the danger behind it. A shiver raced down your spine, suddenly nervous that you may have pushed him a bit too far with your game. Hauling your front against his side, he tucked you under his arm, securing you to him. He leans down, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek before whispering in your ear. “Caught you.”

Pulling back, he smiles down at you pleasantly, turning back to finish his conversation while his fingers rub soothing circles into your shoulder. However, you were feeling anything but soothed, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, dreading the end of this conversation when you didn’t have the safety of other people.

Garreth began saying his goodbyes, waving to the others as they headed to their next destination. He turns to you smiling sweetly again, removing his arm and interlacing your fingers together, kissing the back of your hand while leading you down the hall. He kept a casual pace, smiling at the people you passed, seemingly unhurried. You had no idea where you were going, Garreth refusing to tell you, only leaning down to whisper huskily in your ear. “You are in so much fucking trouble.”

Anticipation lit your blood on fire, your eyes nervous as you looked at him. He kissed your forehead as you walked, eventually stopping in front of an empty storage room. Opening the door, he gestures for you to go in first, pleasant smile still painted on his mouth, but his eyes tell you a different story. They dared you to run, promising grave consequences if you made him chase you. Gazing at him a moment, you consider bolting away, but know that in an all out sprint, he’d definitely catch you.

Obediently, you walk into the closet, Garreth whispering ‘Good choice.’ as he follows quickly after you. Walking to the center of the room, you don’t turn around as you hear the door shut, or when you hear Garreth whisper a locking and silencing charm. When he’s finished, he walks up behind you, slotting himself against your back as he brings his lips to your ear. “You’ve been particularly cruel today, sweetheart.”

His breath tickles your skin as he runs his nose lightly along your neck, hands gently resting on your hips. “Not sure what I’ve done to receive such harsh treatment from you. As far as I know, I’ve been nothing but kind and loving. Doting, even.”

Placing light kisses on your shoulder, he works his way back up to speak directly in your ear, another shiver running down your spine, helpless in his grasp. “And yet, you’ve left me like this-” Hands tugging you back, he grinds his cock into your ass, making sure you feel how hard he is. “-all day. Seems a little mean doesn’t it?”

He traces one hand up your side, fingers coming to turn your head and tilt your chin up, giving you a chaste kiss before pulling back to look at you with hooded eyes. “It’s a really good thing you’re done with classes for the day. Don’t think you’d have enough time to hide all the marks I’m gonna put on your pretty neck, otherwise.”

Beads of sweat broke out on your forehead, stomach flipping in excitement. You’d definitely pushed him too far, but you were eager to find out where this was going, unable to promise that you wouldn’t do it again in the future.

—-------

Hours. Hours later, the two of you finally exited the storage closet, Garreth carrying you gently. Your head lay on his shoulder, face tucked against his neck as you pouted into his skin. His hands supported your thighs, legs on either side of his hips, cradling your exhausted body as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. You could practically feel the smug smile on his face. You huff in annoyance, drawing an amused chuckle from his chest. “I know, sweetheart. I was too much. I’m sorry.”

He most definitely was not sorry, if his pleased tone was anything to go by. “I can’t walk.”

Humming, he kissed your temple lovingly, pride slipping into his voice. “I know.”

You don’t have the energy to be irritated, your exhausted body sinking further into his chest. He carries you all the way to his dorm, tucking you under the covers before climbing into bed after you. Garreth’s roommates don’t even bat an eye at your presence, very used to your frequent sleepovers, all of them assuming you’d fallen asleep studying again.

Garreths crawls in behind you, drawing the curtains before settling down and wrapping one arm around your middle, worming the other under your head. He kisses your shoulder a few times, whispering an ‘I love you’ and tucking his face into your hair. You barely manage to give a tired ‘love you’ back before you’re fast asleep, comfortable and warm in the redhead’s arms.

—-------

Days later, you’re walking past the potions classroom after visiting Sebastian and Ominis, when you spot Garreth working diligently inside. His back was to you, chopping ingredients for whatever brew bubbled in his cauldron. You admired him for a moment, smiling softly at the dedication and passion he put towards his craft. Strolling inside, you move to stand beside him, leaning your head on his arm silently. He immediately brings that arm around you in a half hug, kissing your forehead as he rests his hand just above your rear. “Hi.”

You smile up at him. “Hi.”

“What brings you to my side of the castle today?”

Rolling your eyes, you resist the urge to remind him that you’d had potions together not an hour ago and wrap your arms around his torso. “I just came from seeing Ominis and Sebastian.”

Garreth grunted at the mention of Sebastian, still not caring for the brunette after the events in your fifth year, but tolerating it for your sake. “Well good. I was just starting to miss your pretty face.”

You laugh, earning a playful smile in return. “I don’t think I’ve been gone long enough for you to miss me.”

Still smiling, Garreth leans down, humming as he kisses your lips. “That’s what you think.”

Heart fluttering, you kiss him once more, pulling away and leaning your head on his chest. “What’re you making, my love?”

“Nothing exciting, just a few extra Wiggenweld potions.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him quizzically, waiting for an explanation. His smile turns into a smug smirk, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I just thought it’d be good to have some extra ones on hand, after the other day. Might have helped with your walking problem.”

Clicking your tongue at him, you smack his chest lightly. “You were my walking problem.”

He chuckles in amusement, giving you another lingering kiss. “I sure was.”

Rolling your eyes again, you decide you’d had enough of his gloating and make to leave. “Well, my love, I’ll leave you and your enlarged ego in peace.”

As you go to walk away, Garreth gently wraps a hand around your bicep, tugging you back to steal one last kiss. He pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing yours with a teasing smile. “My ego isn’t the only thing that’s enlarged.”

Scoffing at him, you turn away, huffing as you leave. Garreth laughs at your irritation, and you feel a playful smack on your behind, turning to glare at him as he looks back at you innocently. His face relaxes as you turn back towards the door, watching you fondly as you walk away, already missing your presence beside him.

————-

You awoke to the gentle press of lips being scattered all over your face. Garreths long fingers scratching at your scalp lightly, attempting to rouse you from sleep. Squinting at the early morning light, you groan and hide your face in his neck, halting his soft barrage. He laughed, squeezing you tight against his chest. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you close your eyes again, content to let sleep whisk you away once more. Garreth chuckles again, a hand running up and down your back. “Do you plan to sleep the day away? I’d very much like to take you on a date at some point.”

Whining, you try to shove yourself further into his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle so he can’t pry you off. “‘S the weekend. Lemme sleeeeeep.”

Closing his eyes, a content smile rests on his face, fingers continuing to scratch your head. “But I haven’t seen you in so long. What if I get lonely?”

“My love, we went to bed eight hours ago.”

“Yeah, and that’s a whole eight hours of my life without your pretty face.”

Knowing you weren’t going to win this one, you sigh heavily in defeat. You retract your face from his neck, squinting as you glare up at him. “You’re impossible. You’ve seen me every day for the past two years, and you couldn’t give me two more hours?”

Garreth smiles at your disgruntled face lovingly, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. “What can I say? No amount of time will ever be enough for me. I want it all.”

Huffing against his mouth, you let him do as he pleases, resigning yourself to being awake at this ridiculous hour. “Greedy.”

“For you? Immensely.”

You roll your eyes fondly, whispering ‘dork’ under your breath, the word getting swallowed by Garreths lips. He gives you a few more lazy kisses, before shifting to lay partially on top of you, head resting on your chest. His arms worm their way underneath you, holding you close, as you card a hand through his hair, the other wrapping around his back.

“So, what did you have planned for this date?”

Garreth sighs contentedly as he adjusts himself slightly, eyes closed as he speaks. “Well, I figured we could take a trip to Hogsmead, do a little shopping, maybe stop by The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, things of the like.”

“What? No troll this year?”

Garreth laughs, thinking back to your last anniversary, where he’d tried to take you on a romantic picnic near a glen in the Forbidden Forest, only for a troll to come barging in half way through.

“Not this year, sweetheart, but I’m sure we could find one if you’re really itching for a fight.”

Shaking your head with an exasperated smile, you tell him that Hogsmead sounds great, excited to simply spend the day with him. The two of you continue laying there for another hour, talking quietly, lost in your own little world and ignoring everything going on outside Garreth’s bed curtains.

—-------

Eventually, you do actually roll out of bed, putting on some heavier clothes for the walk to Hogsmeade. You take it slow, walking hand-in-hand as a light flurry of snow blankets the ground around you. By the time you get there, your noses are cold and your cheeks are flushed, but your smiles are warm as you head into the first shop.

The two of you flit around Hogsmeade, popping in and out of various shops, stopping at Honeydukes for a treat, and even taking a stroll in the garden, greeting the hedge dragon as it shakes off the accumulated snow.

As the sun gets lower in the sky, you meander your way to The Three Broomsticks, lightly arguing about Garreth’s spending habits. “My love, you don’t have to pay for everything all the time. I am certainly not hurting for galleons.”

He scoffs at you. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I couldn’t treat the love of my life to a day on the town?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “You say that every time we go out.”

“Alright, fine. You can get the next one.”

Approaching The Three Broomsticks, he grabs the door handle, opening it for you as you both step inside. There’s a knowing twinkle in his eye, and your voice is flat as you give him an unimpressed stare. “You also say that everytime, you liar.”

He laughs heartily as he guides you to a table by the fireplace, leaving you briefly to head to the restroom, shouting at Sirona to not take a galleon from you no matter what. She shakes her head in amusement, making eye contact with you as you roll your eyes at her. You stay put, knowing Garreth would be pouty if he came back to find that you’d gone and purchased the butterbeers anyway. You busied yourself with looking at the paintings on the walls, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the fire as you waited for him.

Suddenly, a tall presence appears beside you, and you turn towards it, assuming it’s Garreth. “Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to-”

Your teasing words die out as you realize the figure beside you is decidedly not Garreth. The unknown man gives you a flirty smile, eyebrows raising slightly at your words. “Oh? You were just waiting for me to come over here, weren’t you? Looks like your wish came true.”

Recoiling from him, you glance around to see if Garreth was on his way back, failing to spot him anywhere. “Oh, I’m sorry, um, I actually thought you were my-”

“What? Boyfriend? Come on now darlin’, no need to be embarrassed.” The man reached out and rested his hand dangerously high up on your thigh. “I’d be happy to take a pretty little thing like you home with m-”

His words are cut off by a large freckled hand clamping down on his shoulder, the fingers squeezing in warning. You look up to see Garreth standing behind him, a friendly smile plastered on his face, his eyes glued to the hand on your leg. “Hey there, friend. If you’d like to keep that hand intact, I suggest you remove it from my spouse’s thigh.”

Your heart flutters at being referred to as Garreth’s spouse, eyes softening at him despite the tense situation. The stranger sneers, turning to look over his shoulder confrontationally, but freezes at the feral look in your boyfriend’s eyes. The friendly smile still stretches across his mouth, but fades a bit as the man stands there paralyzed, hand still firmly in place.

“I won’t ask again.”

The man’s eyes widened at Garreth’s low, dangerous tone, all pleasantries gone from his cadence. The hand is torn from your thigh as the stranger scrambles to get away, spewing apologies as he hastily leaves the tavern. Garreth’s eyes track him the entire time, only turning back to you after the doors swing shut. He leans down, planting a possessive kiss on your lips as he places his hand on your thigh, exactly where the man’s had been. “You ok, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you let him kiss you again. “Fine, my love, thank you.”

He hums in acknowledgement, hand stroking your leg idly. “Good. I hope it didn’t ruin the mood for you. Still want that drink?”

You nod again, and Garreth turns to, very loudly and obviously, shout at Sirona again. “Sirona! A butterbeer for my lovely spouse, if you’d be so kind.”

She shakes her head again, having witnessed Garreth chase the unknown man out, amused at the warning aimed at the other patrons. Garreth hears you giggle at him, turning back to you with a half-smile and a cocked eyebrow.

“We’re not married, my love.”

He scoffs playfully at you, grabbing your left hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your ring finger. “Not at the moment, but if you think for one second we’re not getting married, we might need to take a trip to St. Mungos to get your head checked.”

Your heart swoons. Garreth sends you a wink before walking to the bar for your drinks, eyes narrowed as he glares at the other patrons, daring them to try something. You watch him go, gaze lingering on those broad shoulders, almost drooling as he leans his forearms on the counter to chat with Sirona a moment. You feel a bit hot under the collar, thinking about how territorial he’d been only moments before, and itch to get him alone, growing slightly impatient with the wait.

—-------

You’d wandered back to the castle sometime after dark, heading straight to the Room of Requirement for a late dinner, courtesy of Deek. Thanking the kind elf, you told him to take the night off, promising at his insistence, that you’d call for him if needed. You weren’t exactly sure what house elves did in their spare time, but Deek seemed excited as he bid you both goodnight.

Blankets and pillows had been piled in front of the fire, dinner and drinks already laid out and waiting for your return. Music played softly from a record player in the corner, the two of you dancing to it slowly once you’d eaten.

Laying your head on Garreth’s chest, you release a content sigh, swaying back and forth as you listen to him hum to the music quietly. Eventually, you end up back on the floor, cuddled up in front of the crackling fire. Garreth lay behind you, arms pulling you tight against him, so that no space remained. You unconsciously drew lazy hearts on his hand with your finger, bringing a small smile to his face.

“I was serious, you know.”

Your fingers continue their idle tracing, even as you give him your full attention. “About what, my love?”

His arms tighten slightly, trying to pull you closer. “Marrying you.”

Laughing lightly, a teasing smile appears on your lips. “I certainly hope so, otherwise, the wedding invitations I’ve already sent out would be incredibly embarrassing.”

He chuckles at you, propping himself up on an elbow and bringing his knuckles to caress your cheek as you look up at him. A soft smile rests on his face, eyes hooded as he gazes at you, memorizing your features for a moment before speaking.

“You make me so happy.”

His words are whispered, private, but he might as well have screamed them with how loudly they echoed in your ears. Your eyes instantly tear up as you look at him, his face filled with so much love and devotion it becomes hard to breathe. He notices your teary eyes and uses his fingers to catch each drop, shushing you with quiet apologies, brows furrowed. “Hey, hey, hey I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Garreth leans down, kissing your tears away, thumb rubbing your jaw with soothing strokes. Your hand comes up and grabs his wrist tenderly, halting his delicate kisses as he gazes back at you. Your eyes dart around his face a moment, taking in every lovely detail before parting your mouth, words watery as they escape your lips.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Garreth sucks in a sharp breath, wasting no time in planting his lips passionately on yours. He kisses you deliberately, pouring all his love into the slow slide of his mouth, making sure you feel how much he needs you.

Loving kisses quickly turn hungry, Garreth climbing over you to slot himself between your legs, lips never parting from you. Both of your hands find his hair, fingers tightening at the slow roll of his hips, pulling a groan from his chest. He drags his hardening cock along your center purposefully, as he licks into your mouth, grazing your bottom lip sensually with his teeth. Whimpering, your hips roll to meet him, the slow delicious grind making your head dizzy.

Capturing your wrists, he pins them above your head with one hand, while the other starts a slow exploration across your skin. His fingers expertly undo each button of your blouse, achingly slow, teasing your flesh with the slight brush of his fingers as he pops each one. Your hands strain against him as you gasp desperately into his mouth, silently begging him to go faster, but he continues his maddening pace despite it all.

Garreth doesn’t unbutton your top fully, stopping when there’s just enough room to pull the pieces apart and expose your chest. He says nothing as he moves to forge a blazing trail down your neck, kissing and licking his way to a sensitive nipple, giving it a languid swipe with his tongue. You curse quietly, back arching off the floor towards his scorching mouth, wanting him to give you more.

He pays equal attention to both nipples, sucking at them intermittently, spurred on by the constant choruses of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ spilling mindlessly from your lips. Pulling away slightly, his mouth hovers over your chest as he looks up at you, green eyes devouring your needy expression.

“What’re you asking for, sweetheart?”

You can feel his breath ghosting over your nipple, still wet from his saliva, and it rips a quiet wail from your throat. “Anything! Anything you want.”

Garreth pauses a moment, gazing at you in wicked consideration. “Anything I want?”

Your hips roll desperately on their own at the animalistic tone in his voice, chest heaving as you throw your head back on the floor, nodding wildly. Garreth crawls his way up to you, eyes focused, muscles flexing as he leans down to purr directly in your ear.

“I want to taste you.”

A kiss lands on your jaw.

“Can I do that?”

Sobbing, your hips rut against him. “Fuck yes.”

He hums in approval, releasing your wrists as he makes his slow journey south, savoring every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Hands free, your fingers grip the blankets underneath you tightly, needing something to ground you. Your bottoms are removed from you with ease, leaving you in only your half buttoned top, the fabric grazing your overly sensitive skin.

Garreth settles himself between your legs, eyes drinking you in, a soft moan escaping him at the sight of you. “So fucking pretty.”

Teeth scrape the inside of your thigh as he nips at you, placing an apologetic kiss over the small hurt. He looks absolutely sinful between your legs, his lips kissing the skin reverently, but never placing them where you needed.

“You know-” The maddening press of his mouth continues even as he speaks. “-that note you sent me the other day has been on my mind.”

Another nip, followed by a soothing kiss. “You really shouldn’t send me things like that in public, sweetheart.”

His tongue comes out to lick a long stripe, so, so close to where you needed it. “Telling me how much you like my shoulders, how pretty your legs would look over them…do you know what that did to me?”

Fingers clamped down on your hips to prevent you from moving, as Garreth gets a predatory look in his eye, his teeth sinking in a bit deeper. “After enduring your relentless teasing, watching you run away from me all day? Do you know how hard it was to maintain a conversation, when all I wanted to do, was tear your clothes off and devour you in the middle of the fucking hall?”

Frustrated tears gathered in your eyes, watching the wicked pleasure Garreth got from leaving you hanging, pleading for any scrap he would give you. He hovered right over your most sensitive spot, staring at your desperate face.

“How could you be so cruel to me?”

His breath ghosted over you gently, but it sent you bucking wildly against his hands, wailing loudly enough the whole school could probably hear you. “My love, please!”

“…Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Garreth finally put his mouth on you, tongue laving at you as an appreciative groan tore out of his chest. Throwing your head back, you practically scream his name as he sucks on you. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly, unsure if they wanted to push him away or pull him closer. Not that you had much choice, now that Garreth had his mouth on you, it would be a hard fight to get him off, the redhead moaning almost as much as you.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he devoured you, a string of praises flowing out of his mouth whenever he came up for air. “You taste so fucking good. Merlin, I needed this.”

You were so close, and he knew you were so close, growling as he egged you on, demanding you cum. “I know it’s in there. I can feel it. It’s mine. Give it to me.”

Suddenly, you felt him shove two fingers inside you, and you completely fell apart. Your orgasm rocked through you, cumming so hard it almost hurt. You could only sob his name, body shaking violently as he worked you through it, fingers barely moving with how tight you were squeezing him.

It felt like hours until you started to come down, Garreth’s tongue lapping at you lazily as his fingers continue to pump in and out slowly. You try to push his head away from your sensitive center, but he refuses to budge, looking up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “Oh, you thought we were done? Sorry, sweetheart, I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”

He puts his mouth back on you, ignoring your cries of oversensitivity. You try to wiggle away from him, but he pulls you back, laying an arm across your hips to hold you down. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare try to run from me.”

Garreth’s pace is punishing, driving you to the edge as quickly as possible. You had tears running down your face from the overstimulation, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, that’s why you’d purposefully drive him out of his mind. Of course he knew, he knew you loved this. Knew you wanted him to make you cum over, and over, and over again. Knew you’d never be satisfied with just one orgasm, so he kept going, ignoring your showy attempts at stopping him.

Your hands pushed his head as close to you as they could, chanting his name until your voice was raw, his unrelenting ministrations pushing you over the edge once more. Mind whiting out, your chest heaved with sobs, Garreth removing himself from you once you’d come down.

Crawling up your body, he places gentle kisses into your skin, running his hands over you soothingly. Quiet praises were spoken into your skin, your body relaxing and becoming pliant under his touch. “So good. You did so good for me. I love you so much.”

Garreth settles himself on top of you, letting his weight ground you as he brings you back to earth. You can feel his aching cock resting between your legs, neglected, and you muster just enough energy to rock your hips against him, earning a hiss in return.

He lets you rock against him, chuckling breathlessly into your hair. “You sure, sweetheart? Got one more in there for me?”

Too tired to form actual words at the moment, you simply nod at him, moaning slightly as he begins to grind back. Pushing himself up, he doesn’t even bother undressing, only pulling his trousers down enough to free his flushed cock. Impatient to be inside you. Lining himself up, he pushes in slowly, panting heavily at the feel of you. He runs his hands up and down your thighs comfortingly, stilling once he’s fully seated. “You ok, my love? Need a second?”

Shaking your head, you wiggle your hips as best you can, wanting him to feel as good as he makes you feel. He laughs breathlessly, petting your hips as he starts grinding into you. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything. I know you’re tired. Just relax and let me take care of you, ok?”

He fucks you languidly, savoring the drag of his cock as he moves, content to prolong his pleasure as long as you’ll let him. You can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks down at you, proud to have made you an absolute wreck. Desire starts to build back up in your chest, a familiar ache in your core causing you to moan louder, muscles tensing in anticipation.

“Yeah, my love? What do you need? Need me to go faster?”

You can do little more than nod at him, whining needily as his hips begin to snap forward, eager to give you what you wanted. He fell forward onto his elbows, the new angle driving his cock deeper, pushing right up against that spot inside you. Your fingers clawed at his back, spurring him on, desperate for you to finish on him.

“Come on, sweetheart. Give me one more.”

Garreth tucked his face into your neck, wrapping both his arms under your lower back, helping angle you just a bit more. It had you seeing stars, and the grinding of his cock combined with his breathless pleas in your ear had you tumbling over the edge for the third time that night. Garreth swore loudly and snapped his hips forward a few more times before spilling inside of you, twitching as you convulsed around him.

You both lay there in a daze, remaining connected, just enjoying the afterglow. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his temple repeatedly as you professed your love.

Laying boneless on top of you, you wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his breathing slow and even. That is, until he lifts his head just enough to kiss you gently. He rubs his nose against yours delicately, taking you in as you lay together.

“How are you feeling, my love? Everything ok? All done?”

Pausing, you take stock of your body, waiting a moment before answering. “Mmmmm…I think I’d like one more.”

Huffing in amusement, Garreth kisses you again, just feeling you against him, unhurried. “I knew it. Insatiable thing.”

He kissed you a few more times, before pulling away to whisper mischievously against your lips, a delighted smile gracing his handsome face.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt

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suicidalslasher · 1 year

Text

𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - 𝙀𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙇. + 𝙍𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚 𝙆.

Once again, have no idea how to end stories. Yall should know this by now. Nonetheless, I do hope you enjoy this :) There isn’t that much smut, it’s more dialogue than anything but... do hope you enjoy it, regardless.

WARNINGS: Non-con, dark themes, slight abuse, oral receiving and oral giving (both male on female and female on male.) Threesome between two brothers so ig incest..?? (but also not REALLY!! I figured I’d tag that still, though. Basically both brothers love the girl. lol.) Female!Reader. She/Her pronouns used.

(Y/N) occasionally had a distinct feeling that someone was watching her. She always dismissed it, assuming that since she lived in a big city and felt that way only because she was paranoid. Surely at some point someone was going to be staring at her. It was the city and people often had wandering eyes. When she turned around as that feeling grew stronger, her paranoia thickening, nobody appeared to be returning her gaze and she'd be there, in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling foolish by her fear.

But for some strange reason, it was worse today. Her fear only seemed to intensify, making her feel more terrified despite her best efforts to block out her silly thoughts about it. (Y/N) was walking back home from a late shift at her job. It was already past midnight, and the streets were eerily quiet. Only a few cars were in sight. Other than that the town was empty, almost as if it was a ghost town. She felt that familiar feeling of being watched again, and this time, it was stronger than ever before. Her heart began to race, and she quickened her pace, hoping to make it home without incident. (Y/N) tried her best to calm herself down, whispering soft reassuring words under her breath with each step she took.

As she turned a corner, she saw a shadowy figure standing under a streetlight, watching her intently.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, her body going cold as tried to make out who it was, but it was too dark to see their face. She began to walk faster, this time in the opposite direction, but the figure seemed to be following her. She could hear their footsteps behind her.

(Y/N)'s mind raced with fear and uncertainty. Was this person following her on purpose? Did they mean to harm her? She couldn't shake off the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel her palms getting clammy. Sweat had even began to pool on her forehead, sticking to her skin as she walked faster, her breathing heavy and ragged as she quickened her pace.

Suddenly, the foot steps grew louder and with her bottom lip tugged in-between her teeth, she takes a shaky breath before she spins around to face the figure. In the dim light, she could make out the silhouette of a tall man, dressed in a black cloak, pulled low over his face.

As he lifted his face, however, she gasps when she realizes it's none other than Ghostface himself. Whether it was a copy-cat or the actual legitimate one... the fear remained, nonetheless.

The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end and she stumbled back as she muttered: "What do you want?" (Y/N) asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The man stepped closer to her, and (Y/N) shook with fear as he came closer to her.

"You," he whispered, his voice low and menacing... not only that but it was disoriented, almost staticky. There was no way that was his real voice. (Y/N) tried to back away, but the man was quick to reach forward her, grabbing her wrist as he pulled her towards him. She struggled to break free, but his grip was too strong and she was far too weak. "Let go of me!" she screamed, feeling a surge of adrenaline run through her veins. But the man only laughed, and pushed her roughly against a nearby wall. (Y/N) winced as the impact with the wall jarred her body, and she struggled to catch her breath. She looked up at the man with fear in her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. The man leaned in close to her, his voice husky and seductive. "Don't fight it," he whispered. "You know you want this." (Y/N)'s eyes widened in shock and disgust. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This man was a monster, and she needed to get away from him. Summoning all her strength, she kicked him in the shin and twisted her wrist free from his grasp. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could down the dark alleyway. Behind her, she could hear the man cursing and chasing after her, but she didn't look back. She just ran, her heart pounding in her chest, until she felt the cool night air of the city on her face. Breathless and shaking, (Y/N) collapsed onto the sidewalk. She looked around, trying to get her bearings and figure out where she was. She had been so focused on getting away from the man that she hadn't been paying any attention to her surroundings. As she caught her breath, (Y/N) took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She had always known that there were dangerous people in the city, but she had never expected to be attacked like that. With a shiver, (Y/N) got back to her feet and started walking. She needed to find a safe place to go, somewhere where she could collect her thoughts and figure out what to do next. As she walked, (Y/N) felt a wave of anger and determination wash over her. She wasn't going to let that man get away with what he had done. She would report him to the police and make sure that she was brought to justice. With a new sense of purpose, (Y/N) walked on, her mind racing with plans and ideas. As she turned around the next corner, however, her heart skipped a beat when she saw him again. How had he gotten there so quickly?! He was leaning against the wall and once he notices her, he waves the knife clasped between his gloved hand in the air. (Y/N)'s anger then turned back to fear and concern. How did he find her? How did he get to her again so quickly, so fast and sudden? She quickly turned around and started to run back the way she came, feeling him hot on her heels. But she wasn't fast enough. Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her hair and the next thing she knows, she's being yanked to the ground, her face scraping against the concrete. The man stood over her, the mask still perfectly wrapped around his face. She couldn't see his eyes but she knew he was looking at her with a nasty, cold glare. She could practically feel it.

"You really thought you could get away from me?" he sneered, that haunting voice sending shivers up and down her spine. "You should have known better than to mess with me, sweetie." (Y/N) tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her back towards him. She felt his gloved hands on her body, tearing at her clothes. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed for help, but no one came to her aid. The man laughed at her desperation and leaned in closer, even through the mask she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. "You're mine now," he whispered. "I'll do whatever I want with you." (Y/N)'s heart raced as she struggled against his grip, but it was no use. The man was too strong. Before he could really do anything, though, there's a voice coming from down the alley. "Hey, there! What are you doing?" the voice asked. She couldn't believe it. She was going to be saved. Tears of happiness and gratitude swelled in her eyes. However, as the stranger crept closer, she realizes that the man wasn't there to save her.

Not only that but she's seen this man before... she actually had dated him, once upon a time ago. Her eyes grow wide and it feels as though everything seemed to stop. Time, the beating of her heart, even the sounds of the city had gone deaf in her ears. All she can muster out is; "Richie?" Her ex-boyfriend, Richie, stood before her with a sly smile on his face. This was not happening. Her mind was nonstop racing, the same as her heart.

Richie Kirsch was dead.

He had gotten killed back in Woodsboro when it was announced he had been the Ghostface killer. And yet... he stood in front of her, very much alive and breathing. She had always known that he was bad news, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined him to be involved in something like this.

How he even was able to get away with such an act, murder nonetheless, was questionable. How he was able to fake his own death as well.... question after question popped up in her head. He had never been the smartest guy around, if she were honest... So, how he was able to pull such a stunt was... very much surprising. "Long time no see, babe," he said, his voice low and menacing. "It's a shame we had to meet this way, though." She shuddered at the cold, hard look in his eyes. This was not the same man she had once loved. He was dangerous, and she knew that she was in trouble. "What do you want from me, Richie?" (Y/N) asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He crouched down, getting on the floor with her as his breath hit against her face, hot against her skin as he spoke.

"I want you, my dear," he said. "We both do." Richie then motioned for the hooded figure to reveal himself. The stranger chuckles deeply as he stood up, Richie taking over his position to hold (Y/N) down. The stranger then drops the cloak at his feet and as he rips his mask off, revealing himself as Ethan.

Ethan was not only one of her best friends but he had also worked with her at the local coffee shop, too. Ethan turned to (Y/N), a devilish smirk on his own face.

"Surprised, bestie?" "H-How...? What?" "Meet my baby brother, (Y/N)." Richie smiled, the grin growing even more sinister and his eyes grew even more dark. (Y/N) couldn't believe what was happening. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would burst out of her chest. She had always known Ethan as the sweet and caring guy who would do anything for her, but she had never imagined him in this light. "Don't be scared, my love," Richie whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek, his thumb brushing ever so softly against her skin. "We just want to show you a good time." She tried to push him away, but his grip on her tightened. "You wouldn't want to make us angry, now would you?" "Please, guys, this is not right," she managed to say, her voice breaking as she croaked out her words. "We're not going to hurt you, (Y/N). We just want to have some fun." Ethan reassured. "Just me and my big brother here." He smiled. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that she was trapped. The two men had her cornered and she didn't know how to escape. She felt a wave of panic wash over her, her mind racing with thoughts of what they might do to her. The answer was obvious. Richie leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. "Relax, baby. We'll make it worth your while." He reassured. "Don't you remember the good times we shared? How good you felt wrapped around my cock? How wet your cunt always got when I'd shove my cock deep inside of you? Don't you want that now? Don't you miss it? Don't you miss me? Don't lie, (Y/N)..." Ritchie said with an eyeroll. "I know you still think about me when you fuck yourself at night." This last piece of information was what did it. (Y/N) felt her face burn as redness coated her cheeks. Richie smirked, knowing he was right. "There's the (Y/L/N) I know and love." He cooed. At the words, her body shivered. She felt her cheeks heat up as something in her stomach twisted. Feeling a rumble deep in her lower stomach, she realized she was hungry again. Her body still craved him like it craved air. "Please..." She whimpered. "Please don't do this..." She begged. "Don't hurt me..." Richie let out a little laugh as his hand moved up to her cheek, the way he had done earlier. He brushes his thumb across her skin before he places his thumb across her lower lip, letting himself into her hot and warm mouth, brushing his digit across her tongue.

"Baby, we're not going to hurt you...." He repeated in a reassuring manner as he then pressed his lips to her forehead. "Unless you want us to..." He whispered into her hair. He then took his finger out of her mouth before he looked at her with such hunger and fire and before he can stop himself, he's crashing his lips onto hers. In a daze of lust, (Y/N) couldn't help but kiss him back. She let out a soft moan against his mouth as his kiss became more urgent and demanding. Her body was reacting to him like it always had. His tongue swirled and danced against hers, his breath hot and heavy against her face.

All of this was so fucked up.. all of this was so wrong but.. if that were the case, how come it felt so... so awfully right? As the kiss deepened, (Y/N) remembered Ethan. She broke away from Richie's kiss and turned around to find Ethan standing behind them, that same smirk on his face only deepening as he chuckled and gave a small wave to her. Her heart raced as she realized what was about to happen. She was about to be taken by two men, brothers no less, and there was nothing she could do to stop it....

Part of her also didn't want to stop them. Not anymore.. not since she knows who it was behind the masks. As dangerous as they were, there was part of her that knew they weren't going to hurt her.

"Come in. Let's get her back to the apartment." Ethan said. Richie nodded as he stood up, taking (Y/N) with him. *~* The moment they get her back to her apartment and as soon as the doors open, they're both dragging her toward her bedroom. As soon as they get there, Richie is pushing her to the bed, Ethan quick to follow. (Y/N) tries to resist but her body feels heavy and unresponsive. She's in a haze, barely able to make out their faces as they loom over her.

There was so much going on, so many feelings overwhelming her. Richie pins her down while Ethan pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. "What are you doing?" (Y/N) slurs, her words barely coherent. "Taking control," Ethan answers, his voice low and dangerous. "You've been acting out of line, (Y/N). Especially with what happened back there. You need to be punished." Before she can protest, Ethan snaps the cold metal around her wrists, chaining her to the bedpost. (Y/N) struggles to break free but the restraints hold her down, leaving her helpless and vulnerable. Richie watches from the sidelines, his intense gaze fixated on her. "What do you wish to do now, little brother?" Richie asks, his voice eager. "Now we teach her a lesson," Ethan declares, his eyes darkening with lust. "She needs to learn who's in charge." Ethan's hands then slide down her sides, (Y/N) closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the sensations. She felt her clothes being stripped away, leaving her skin exposed to their hungry gazes. Their hands were rough and demanding as they explored every inch of her body. She couldn't believe how much she wanted this, how much she craved their touch. It was like a drug that she couldn't get enough of. Their mouths were everywhere, kissing, licking, and biting every part of her, and she loved it. Ethan leans in to kiss her passionately while Richie pulls her underwear off, the last remaining bit of clothes that she had on. She moans into Ethan's mouth as he runs his hands all over her body, caressing her curves and making her shiver in anticipation.

Richie, on the other hand, wastes no time in getting rid of his clothes and positioning himself between her legs. (Y/N) arches her back as Richie's tongue flicks over her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Ethan takes this opportunity to pull down his pants and offer his hard cock to her, which she eagerly takes into her mouth. She hadn't ever expected the night to end like this... With her ex boyfriend who she thought was deceased and with her best friend who... somehow was hiding the fact he had been related to her dead boyfriend.

But... she wasn't regretting it. She never did think she could love two people at the same time before but in this moment, she realizes she could and she did. (Y/N) still loved Richie (even despite his cruel and gruesome past) and she had also previously been questioning her feelings towards her best friend.

She had came to the realization in this very moment that yes, she was in love with him as well. "You're ours." Richie said as he lifted his head above from where he sat in-between her legs. His chin was drenched with her juices and his lips were swollen and red. He pinched her clit, making her squeak in response. "You belong to us, is that clear?" He said as he pressed his thumb and forefinger harder against her cunt. She nodded, due to the fact she couldn't quite do anything with an entire cock in her mouth.

"I think that's a 'yes'." Ethan said with a chuckle. Richie grinned in response.

"I guess now the plan is just to make her 'scream', huh?" Ethan rolled his eyes in reply to his brother's cheesy comment but he then nodded. "Let's."

#ghostface smut #ghostface x you #ghostface x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher smut #richie kirsch x you #richie kirsch x reader #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #richie kirsch x y/n #cierra's stories #written by cierra

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