sonyanightmare - Tumblr blog

sonyanightmare · 1 month ago

Text

Holy fck, this was my favorite Silco Smut I have found (and yes I am now in love with the series but I don't play the game lol ik)...

I love this man with my soul now 🖤🥴🥺❤️‍🔥

He has no right looking so fine; like this type of Alpha fcking KINK SHT, OMFG- ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Five Years

Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 5.3k Content Warnings: female reader, reunion, heavy emotions, brief mention of weight issues, kissing, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, penis in vagina sex, choking, romantic sex, silco with long hair (scary), silco with facial hair (frightening)

Masterlist || AO3 Link

beta reader: she's not on tumblr but my Girl Bestie (TM)

thank you to @juniper-sunny for coming up with this idea and letting me write it!! it was such a pleasure to bring this brilliant thing to life 🙏😍

Summary: In a sacrifice for Zaun's sovereignty, Silco admits himself to prison and is sentenced to 10 years. Five years have passed since the last day you saw him, and suddenly he's back home.

Five years. Five years ago Silco kissed you goodbye. Five years ago you relished the last you thought you might see, hear, feel of him. You walked with him that day–to Stillwater–as his partner in business and life. Through handcuffs and crushed between guards, watching the Talis boy’s smug stride in front of you, you held Silco’s hand; felt his fingers between yours; savored the warmth of him: your hero, the savior of Zaun who founded a sovereign nation with his sacrifice.

For five years you were cold, left with his shadow, Jinx. She was just as depressed as you, hardly touching her projects, staying in her lab all day. Fishbones was left on Silco’s desk, his office quickly becoming a relic room. You didn’t use it when you stepped in to oversee the Last Drop. Even when Jinx took up the helm of his presence in the newly independent Zaun–alongside Sevika–she didn’t work out of his space or use any of his supplies. She didn’t look at any maps, charts, or notes. Nothing of the sort. There was a dead coldness to her look as she ripped every ounce of control from the chembarons and fought not for Zaun, but as Zaun.

Since then, she has only grown and flourished as her own. Still a reckless fighting spirit, but one you are proud of nonetheless. One that, every time you look at her, you see Silco’s passion and light evolved and shifted into her own. How he walked for her to run.

When you heard a knock on the office door, the last person you expected to see was Silco, but there he was. In second’s time, all of the breath leaves your lungs and you wait for this phantom of your dreams to leave you.

“Hello, lovely,” the ghost of your partner whispers. His hands, calloused and worn harder than you remember, hang at his sides. He looks different, but still the same as before. His hair is longer but still decently kept, tied to a tight bun, save for a few stray tendrils that tickle at his cheekbones. There’s a new abundance of gray strands at his temples that thins the jet black that used to reside there. You’re happy to not see him in a prison uniform, but his wardrobe that was returned to him hangs too loosely on his form. There’s a slight stubble of facial hair on his hollow cheeks and jaw, but only on the right side of his face; the darkened skin of his left not allowing any hair to grow. The lines of his face have been etched deeper and longer with time, but the scars look the same; familiar, like you could draw them with your eyes closed.

“I wish I could have told you I was coming,” he says, quieter this time, in such a gentle tone that only your Silco could say it.

Tears prick your eyes as you stumble through the doorway to make sure he’s real, actually there. Your fingers grace his cheeks, and the warmth of his skin sends a euphoric tingle up your spine. His cheeks, under his eyes, across his lips, in his hair–you touch him everywhere you can reach until tears are pouring so heartily from you that you have to wipe them away.

“It’s really you,” is all you can whisper, and Silco cracks a gentle smile, nodding. Without another word, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms. He smells different; a little more musty, with a hint of bleach, but you couldn’t be bothered less. Not when you can, for the first time in five years, feel the warmth of him consuming and dissolving every stress, worry, and fear you’ve ever had. He holds you tightly and you return the gesture as you wrap your arms around his ghastly skinny form and cry with all your heart.

How long you stand there, you’re not sure. Long enough for your tears to dry and your eyelids to grow heavy. The rush of bliss at having him once again in your arms is too much, too exhausting, too comforting, and you want to fall asleep with him like you did for so many years.

“I need to see my girl,” he whispers against your temple, placing a chaste kiss there. He doesn’t move until you pull away first, and when he heads for the bedroom instead of the hall you make a confused noise.

“I don’t want her to see me like this,” he says, before stepping into the bedroom. He doesn’t go for the wardrobe right away, but instead looks around a little bit. You didn’t change much of anything when he left–you actually made a point not to. Even his side of the bed remained untouched, made just as he had fixed it five years ago.

He seems to notice this very thing, chuckling. “I half expected you to take the whole bed in my leave.”

You smile at that, glad to hear his teasing voice again. “I thought about it this morning. You were gone so long it figured it didn’t matter anymore.” You’re only half joking, because it did feel like an eternity that he was gone, even though he’s back earlier than the original sentence of ten years.

Silco turns to you now. “If you want the whole bed you can have it– I’ll give you the world if you ask for it, lovely.” His voice is barely above a whisper now as he pulls you close again, a hand wrapped around your waist.

“I’m just so happy to have you back,” you say, unable to contain your smile as Silco leans down to kiss you. Like a flower blossoming, your heart bursts with a fluttering pace as your lips slot against Silco’s and he sighs into your mouth. It feels better than you could have anticipated it feeling, better than the many times you had imagined it in the five years on your own. The stubble of his right-sided beard tickles your chin, and you can’t help but smile at the foreign but amusing sensation.

As if he wasn’t gone for more than a minute, Silco reads this effortlessly and pulls away.

“It’s despicable, isn’t it?” he asks, gesturing to the lopsided beard on his chin and thin mustache above his lip. You smile wider, beaming up at him, and shake your head.

“I think it’s rather charming.” You bring a hand to cradle his face where the stubble has grown, giggling as it tickles you still.

“I think it’s rather not,” Silco huffs, making for the bathroom, “I can’t stand it for another moment.”

He doesn’t idle when entering the bathroom like he did entering the bedroom, and instead goes immediately for his razor and shaving cream. He seems to be quietly pleased that everything is in exact order as it was before.

You watch with awe as he works the routine like he hadn’t been absent from it for a week, and when he’s done with shaving he adjusts the lapels, buttons, and straps of his vest to fit a little more snugly around his thin frame.

“She’ll love to see you,” you assure Silco, holding back the tears that brim in your eyes.

“In her laboratory?” Silco guesses, and you affirm by a small nod, following Silco’s lead to Jinx’s workspace.

You watch from afar as Silco approaches Jinx, her back turned to him and tinkering with something. He says something, and she whips around, every bit of her features softening as she takes in that he’s really there, that he’s back. You can’t say your reaction was so dissimilar to hers, the disbelief at his appearance and the joy that he’s truly there. Jinx runs, embraces him, and they stay like that for a long time, her crying all the while. It’s like watching yourself from half an hour ago, except with blue hair.

Some conversation takes place, Jinx gesturing around the room at all of the things she’s changed, what she must show him and catch him up on. Conversation is a strong term for the few words that Silco can manage between Jinx’s excited comments and remaining sobs.

At some point, Jinx takes notice of you standing in the corner and beckons you over with a wave of her hand. You join the two, and Silco looks absolutely delighted to see his daughter all grown up. Though, pride and admiration are not all you see, there’s a melancholy in his eyes, a sorrow that he was not there to see his joy, his life light, take control and grow into her own.

Silco always humored Jinx’s gadgetry rambles better than you, so it’s no surprise that Jinx, puffy-eyed and sniffling, is set on catching her father up to speed on all of her projects. He nods along, the gentle smile on his face warming your heart as you watch him engage in Jinx’s excitement. Whether or not he understands the technical jargon she’s spewing out at incredible speeds is difficult to discern, but he seems more than happy to let her ramble to her heart’s content.

“We should get you something to eat,” you suggest after a short while, and there seems to be no complaint from either person, especially not Silco.

“I like the new haircut, silly,” Jinx says around a mouthful of fruit, courtesy of Ran who went to get some local market delicacies for the returned boss.

Silco smiles and runs a hand through the overgrown locks. “You think so? I should cut it all off.”

“No! It’s charming,” you chime in, and Silco watches both you and Jinx with a little teasing glimmer to his eye.

“I suppose I’ll keep it for the general public’s opinion,” he settles, taking a forkful of cake into his mouth. You’ve never seen Silco indulge in his sweet tooth before, but you suppose the time away from such privileges as having cakes and cookies made him more appreciative of the high sugar foods Jinx is always so fond of.

Between bites of food the two of you make witty banter back and forth, discussing the practical aspects of a ponytail, and how doubtful it is that Silco really got his sentence shortened for “good behavior”. Conversation continues until you and Silco become more engrossed with each other and Jinx dips out due to “gross parent things”. You sit and talk longer with Silco, ever grateful to have him back in your presence for the wonderful conversation if not the comfort.

You soon find yourselves back in Silco’s office as you fiddle with the record player, trying to put on something light and romantic. It finally starts playing and you spin around, beckoning Silco forward. He indulges you, taking your hands as you both sway gently to the music.

You stay like that for a while, Silco’s arms around your waist and your hands cradling his face. Happy or glad would be understatements for what you feel at having this man back in your arms where you can see him, touch him, smell him. Though, while your content and sentimentality is nice, it quickly takes a turn as you feel a hot flush rise to your cheeks. A storm of firelights starts to kick low in your belly as you realize what you can really do with Silco now that he’s back; what you could only dream of for five years.

“Silco,” you hum, and he makes a noise of acknowledgement back at you, his good eye closed. “I’m so grateful to have you back.”

This makes Silco smile, and he looks at you now. “I’m grateful to be back.”

You grin, your hands slowly slipping from his face as they run down the length of his body. Over his chest, across his shoulders and back, tickling at his sides. Your eyes follow them before you look up at Silco again, giving your best bedroom eyes.

“We should do something big to celebrate,” you suggest, voice low and gentle. You’re sure Silco catches your drift by the way his eyes darken and his smile becomes something sharp and bladed.

“We’ve practically been celebrating all day, what else do you have planned, lovely?” He asks like he has no idea what you’re talking about– he wants to hear you say it.

Normally you would beat around the bush and tease him, make him frustrated until he snaps and takes you before you can even beg for it. But you’d just be teasing yourself doing that now.

You pull Silco close, getting up on your toes to whisper in his ear.

“I think I forgot what your cock feels like inside of me, you should fuck me until I remember.”

Without another word, Silco’s lips crash into yours, his tongue searching for yours as he pries your mouth open. His hands are all over you, feeling everything that had been out of his reach for five years: your hair, your waist, your ass, your breasts. Likewise, you relish his hard body pressing against you– his hardness pressing against you, and you cup your hand to him through his pants.

A low growl sounds from between your connected mouths and suddenly Silco is pulling you towards the bedroom, pressing you against the door until you turn the knob and stumble backwards into the room.

Silco breaks the kiss only to slam the door shut and pick you up, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he takes you over to the bed. How he can carry you with his diminished frame, you don’t know, but you don’t question it as his cock presses against your core as he lays you onto the bed.

“I want to taste you, lovely, but I’ll have to do that later,” he hisses against your skin, leaving teasing bites on your neck. He begins to work his fly and you make a small noise from your throat, somewhere between a hum and a whine, asking for him to elaborate. He groans between heavy breaths, “I need to fuck you right now.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you shimmy your pants and underwear off just in time for Silco to whip out said cock and kiss you again. He presses against your entrance and you can feel how very hard he is. In all the years you had been having sex with him you don’t ever remember him feeling like that.

His cock slips against your entrance over and over and he lubricates himself with your wetness. He grins against your lips before pulling away. “Are you ready, lovely?” You throw your arms around his neck, legs wrapping over his sharp hips to lock behind his back.

“I’ve been ready for five fucking years,” you grit out, and Silco pushes into you.

Your breath catches and he bottoms out with the hard thrust he had entered you with, your exhale leaving you in a long, low moan. He responds to your body in kind, breathing out moans between disbelieving laughs.

“I thought about you every night I was locked up in that hellhole,” Silco grunts, pulling back just to thrust into you again, the shock of it forcing another breathy moan from you.

“I thought about all of the pretty faces you make when I fuck you–” another thrust. “I thought about all of the noises I can pull from you.” You clench around him at his words and he throbs inside you in kind. “I thought about how well you’ve always taken me,” he hisses, watching with rapture as he quickly changes the pace and begins to fuck you in earnest. “Like you were made for me.”

You can’t be bothered to listen to anymore of his rambling, as wet as it makes you, not when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. His cock feels like magic, it makes you dizzy and brings you back and removes all thoughts from your brain until there is nothing in your head but Silco, Silco, Silco–

“Silco!” You cry out, as if it will do anything. You have to say something, make some noise other than incoherence to let him know, if he can’t already feel it, how much you missed this.

Already you’re so close, on the brink of orgasm just from the relief of having him inside you again. Throwing coals into the fire, Silco’s hand comes up to wrap around your throat, fingers squeezing the sides with enough pressure to give you difficulty breathing. Your eyes widen as you look at Silco, your breath catching where his fingers press.

Silco must be just as close as you because he seems to struggle to hold himself up over you, and while he would usually talk you to, through, and past your orgasm, he can’t seem to manage more than animalistic grunts right now.

“Sil,” you gasp, beginning to feel dizzy as Silco threatens to make you come undone quickly now with the way he fucks you fast and hard, hand tightening around your throat.

“Come for me, lovely, let me see you– feel you when you come on my cock,” he grunts, the rough timbre of his voice unfamiliar but alarmingly sexy. “I know you’ve missed it, show me how badly you missed me.” The vicious growl of his voice, the clench of his teeth, the mess of his hair as it falls from his hair tie, you can’t deny yourself the pleasure of the display before you.

All at once, your orgasm rushes through you. The stress, the tension, the longing that had built up over the last half decade expelled through every nerve of your body as ecstasy burns through you. As soon as you tumble off the peak of your climax, Silco releases your windpipe, oxygen rushing back to you. You gasp, your orgasm feeling more powerful as clarity returns to your mind and senses, bringing a sort of smaller climax along with it. You shiver, moaning, limbs tensing around Silco as you hold him close, legs locking tight at his lower back to press him deeper inside of you.

Looking down at you, Silco mumbles words you can’t understand even as your high fades away and his thrusts grow frantic and uneven, hands clawing at your hips as he gets himself closer.

“Please,” you mouth to him, over and over, until your walls clench around him and he’s sent over the edge. His hips press against you hard as he pushes himself in as far as he can, cock throbbing against your walls. The sounds he makes are entirely feral, harsh grunts and moans as his head falls to rest on your collarbone, breath fast and labored as he rocks his hips through the pleasure that works through his very bones.

Finished, Silco slackens against you, breath hot against your skin as he collects himself. You feel him soften inside you but neither of you move from the other, content to rest a while and recover.

“First time, in five years,” Silco says, head still resting against your chest.

“Yeah I missed that a lot,” you laugh, bringing your hands up to comb through Silco’s hair.

“Well yes, the sex, but I haven’t…” Silco trails off, and very quickly your brow furrows in confusion.

“Are you trying to say that’s the first time in five years that you’ve had an orgasm?” You can’t believe you’ve just said that outloud but even more unbelievable is the fact that Silco nods in affirmation.

“Surprisingly, being locked in a concrete room with a bunch of foul-stenched inmates is not a turn-on.”

“Even while you were thinking of me?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

Silco laughs before he adds, “there were no clean-up materials at hand.”

You nod your head with a quiet “ah”, letting your fingers continue playing with Silco’s hair.

“I feel bad now,” you say, “I’ve been fucking my fingers all the while that you’ve been a celibate.” Silco laughs at your comment and sits up now, finally pulling out of you with a low hiss.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself.” A small peck on the lips. “I’m sure your fingers didn’t feel as good as mine anyways.” A shit-eating grin spread across Silco’s face, but you can’t find it in you to deny the accusation. Teasing is always an option though…

“It’s been so long, I’m not sure if I can remember that being true or not,” you sigh dramatically, looking up at Silco as he stands over you.

“Worry not, lovely, I will yet again jog your memory.” Silco gives you a patient smile, and you forget for a moment that you’re teasing each other back and forth until he directs you to get entirely on the bed instead of laying on the edge.

Your heart flutters as you watch Silco straighten up and unbutton his vest and shirt, slowly peeling away the fabric and letting it fall to the floor, revealing the flesh and bone that you had missed all this time. You watch as he does the same to his pants, eyeing how visible his ribs are at his sides, how thin his arms are, the lack of corded muscle in his legs. It saddens you to see his condition, but you don’t linger on it.

You’re speechless as Silco mounts the bed and straddles over your bare hips, fingers reaching for the hem of your shirt. You lift your back slightly to help him get it up over your head and finally off, and Silco’s shuddering exhale at seeing your bare chest is nearly worth the five year wait.

He palms the weight of your breasts in his hands, breathing shallow against your skin as he leans down to kiss your sternum. You let your head fall back against the pillows, relishing the way Silco’s teeth graze your nipple before his tongue darts out to soothe his own teasing, all the while his release leaks out of you and onto the bedspread.

Leaving kisses and bites in his wake, Silco moves down the length of your body. His mouth blesses your skin anywhere he can reach, worshiping with reverence. Especially when he gets to your mound. Like a man starved, which he very much is, Silco parts your folds with his tongue and goes directly for your clit, flattening against the bundle of nerves and pressing in one long stroke.

Like a bolt of lightning, that single lick sends a shock through your entire body. Your legs tense as you fight the urge to lock them around Silco’s head, but he encourages you. His arms wrap around your thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders and really starts to eat away at you. His tongue spoils your clit, licking and sucking, as one hand massages your hole, pressing not enough to dip his fingers in but enough to have you whining.

You can’t find words, not when Silco’s mouth ravishes you so entirely, and not when he’s moaning all the while. Each vibration rumbles through you and you grind your hips up into his eager mouth, earning another moan, and the cycle repeats.

As soon as Silco’s two fingers press and curl into you, you’re done for, quickly approaching your second orgasm. Your partner draws it out of you effortlessly, fingers curling and tongue flicking, letting your hips take the lead as you grind out your climax with high, panting moans.

You don’t realize until you begin to climb down from this crest that you’ve tangled your fingers into Silco’s hair and pulled it entirely out of its bun, graying tendrils coming to hang along his cheekbones and tickling your thighs.

Silco pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it back up. Before you can manage a word he’s kissing you, hands pinning yours down to the bed as he grinds against your sensitive mound, already hard again.

“I love you so much,” he gasps against your lips, letting you taste yourself with every swipe of his tongue against yours. You want to hold him, grab his face, anchor into his hair again, anything, but you keep your hands beneath his.

“I love you too– marry me, Silco,” you say between kisses. When you think Silco will be surprised, that he’ll stop, that he’ll think for a moment, he does none of these things. What he does is kiss you harder, abandoning your wrists to hold your face so gently you might be mistaken for glass.

Breathless, he whispers. “Always, a thousand times over.”

No words, no thoughts, the heady rush of love makes you dizzier than necessary when Silco grabs your hips and rolls you over so you’re straddling him. Neither of you need to say anything, it just feels right to lift up your hips until you’re hovering over Silco’s cock and slowly sinking down onto him.

Sitting on top of Silco, he reaches even deeper than he did before and it has your back arching, your mouth falling open. You can’t even cry out for him, it just feels too good. You’re still so sensitive from the fervor with which he put his mouth on you and you shiver hard when your clit grinds against his pelvis.

Silco tips his head back with a low moan as you circle your hips, bracing one hand on his lean stomach and the other on his thigh. His hands find your waist, urging you on as his hips roll with yours.

“I never stopped loving you,” Silco whispers, his long hair fanning out in a darkened halo around his head. “I thought about you everyday, I imagined you with me, I talked to you.” His voice grows raspy and breathless as you start to ride him in earnest. “You were always there, in every waking moment, every dream.”

Slowly, up and down, you sink onto Silco’s cock over and over, amazed each time at how he fills you. As he speaks with reverence, and a catch in his throat, Silco’s thumb reaches from your hip to your mound and starts slow circles on your clit. His hips pulse up to meet yours, pressing deep each time he bottoms out and your breath leaves you in uneven gasps and whimpers, astonished that even after all this time Silco can work you so effortlessly.

So badly you want to tell Silco you felt the same, that you thought of him everyday, had silly banter with him in your mind, that you went to sleep every night pretending your pillow was his body hugged close to you. But words fail, and you can’t get them out, not when he picks up the pace of his hips and his thumb works you in perfect rhythm.

You roll your hips with Silco, bracing both hands on his thighs to send the head of his cock into the perfect spot, over and over again. Your mouth falls open and Silco watches with wonder as you work yourself, eyes wide and face flushed.

“Just like that, lovely,” Silco pants, watching where you two meet as he disappears inside you again and again. “Use me, let me see you come one more time.”

How can you deny a request like that? You shiver as your orgasm washes over you in a slow wave, not the frantic heat that burned through you before but rather a soothing rush, like a breath of fresh air. You clamp down tight around Silco, his grunts and labored breathing evidence enough of that fact as the roll of your hips slows.

“That’s it, good,” Silco coos, still breathless. He only stops moving when he grabs onto your hips and rolls you onto your back, settling between your thighs while still very much inside you. His mouth slots against yours, hips bucking into you again as he chases his high. You can hardly kiss him with how your mouth falls open around gasps and moans. Your arms are around his shoulders, and you’re reminded of the previous round, only now that you’re both on the bed Silco seems to surround you much more.

“I love you,” Silco whispers between kisses, and you manage to mumble it back against his lips, relishing how breathless he becomes as he gets closer and closer to his climax. Your overstimulated clit still grinds against him with every thrust, and it still leaves you speechless even as you adjust to the sensation with Silco’s quickening movements.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Silco’s hips press as deep as he can get them. He trembles as his orgasm works through him and the pulsing of his cock within your walls awakens a smaller, gentler climax that pulls a startled cry from your throat.

You feel your body melt into the pillows beneath you as you climb down from your high, and Silco rolls over with an exhausted breath, pulling you close to him to pepper light kisses on your face and neck. You giggle, trying to catch Silco’s lips with your own but he’s too fast for you, leaving a quick peck on your nose.

“Sil, kiss me,” you whine.

With a look of smugness, he teases you. “I am kissing you.”

You groan, fed up, and when Silco stops for just a moment you take the opportunity to grab his face and press your lips to his. You both sigh into the kiss, floating in the pleasant afterglow of what might be your most satisfying sexual episode yet. Silco’s long hair dangles at his cheekbones and tickles your face with slight touches, and you start giggling again.

“I really must cut all of this off,” Silco says, and you shake your head at him.

“You’re just afraid of change,” you reply and tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You’re telling the revolutionary he’s afraid of change?” Silco asks, chuckling at you. “The only changes I hate are the ones that take me away from my lovely wife.” Silco grins and his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer, pressing you flush against him.

“As much as I love the way you say that word, I’ve only proposed to you.” You can’t help how contagious Silco’s expression is as you start to smile back at him. Desperate to get closer and feel more of Silco’s embrace, you tuck your arms to your chest and curl up your legs, letting Silco adjust as necessary to hold you in your half-fetal position.

“We also don’t have to be officially or legally wed,” you muse, and immediately Silco makes a negating sound.

“Absolutely not,” he says, “legal marriage means the next time I happen to be incarcerated I can get visits from you.”

You frown, remembering the pain in the ass that was talking to the Stillwater guards and trying to convince them to let you see Silco, but they wouldn’t let you. He was in such a holding cell that only family members could enter. Of course, since it’s a Piltover facility, even with Zaun’s independence, they made that hard for you, only accepting paperwork-proven relations and, as a result, not even letting Jinx see him.

“I’m sorry,” Silco whispers, filling the silence that had quickly grown between you. “I will never let that happen again.”

“You made a sacrifice for the thousands of people in the Undercity,” you say, looking up at him now. “I have never been more proud to love such a sincere and driven man.”

Silco smiles, mouthing a quiet thank you. He’s about to add something else but you quickly cut him off with a strict remark.

“But you are never doing anything to get you a sentence over one month.”

The raw tenderness on Silco’s face shifts to amusement at your words. “Never,” he agrees.

Satisfied with that answer, you nod and tuck your chin back down, snuggling closer to your unofficial husband. You get a gentle kiss on the top of your head before Silco whispers to you, “get some rest, lovely. There is much to do tomorrow.”

163 notes · View notes

sonyanightmare · 2 months ago

Text

Oh my 🥴💀🖤

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water.

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go.

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep.

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained.

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves.

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly.

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that.

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price.

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon.

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building.

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this.

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair.

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in.

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing.

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream.

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall.

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing.

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought.

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind.

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound.

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone.

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you.

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic.

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering.

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack.

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell.

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him.

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat.

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan.

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body.

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you.

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare.

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them .

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came.

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise.

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in.

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before.

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction.

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself.

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory.

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support.

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time.

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin.

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time.

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful.

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life.

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well.

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you.

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements.

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all.

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast.

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever?

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him.

7K notes · View notes