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put-me-through-the-wall · 10 months ago

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Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.

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Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time.

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath.

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile.

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look.

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over.

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door.

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling.

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing.

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning."

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair.

"Can you hold this for a second?"

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh.

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors.

"Ladies first"

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself.

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator.

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course.

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though.

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter.

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become.

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you.

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request.

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke.

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze.

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh.

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes.

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter.

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

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Part II

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ghoulbrain · 10 months ago

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Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear.

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you.

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat.

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm.

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them.

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it.

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click.

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room.

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets.

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you.

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet.

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece.

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out.

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses.

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you��re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time.

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be.

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #x reader #x reader smut #fem reader #my writing #smut

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heartcereql · 9 months ago

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heaven is a place on earth with you

art donaldson x fem!reader || soft moments in your fresh new home

cw: smoking, minor cursing, no use of y/n (1240 words) a/n: writing about my sweet baby art during finals bc why not

you swore you could have stayed like this forever. tangled in silky bedsheets, soft rays of light that tingled on your face, body pressed against art's. one of those moments you wished you could pause and settle in for an eternity.

the mattress was on the floor, and cardboard boxes were scattered all around your apartment. your apartment. it felt blissful to say it. a life awaited you there, between the beige and baby blue walls that screamed for another hand of paint. it was far from the ideal, but it was perfect because it was yours. art's and your world. didn't it sound so pretty?

you looked over at him. eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his head a blond mess of curls and his skin warm despite the moring breeze that slipped inside the room through the opened balcony. art looked otherworldly. he always did, in your eyes. and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth with him, because he looked at you, because he touched you, because he loved you. because he felt for you what you felt with him.

and you two were fucking living together. the thought was enough to bloom a grin on your lips. a pure, joyful smile that made you want to jump and dance all around. pressing a feather-like kiss to his temple, you sat up, careful to untangle yourself from his arms and slinging over one of his standford t-shirts.

you reached over to your bedside table- well, the brown leather suitcase on which you had left some stuff. a provisional nightstand, let's leave it at that. you took a cigarette out of the box, holding it between your lips as you grabbed the lighter and your sketchbook and pencil.

the cool air of the early morning greeted you as you stepped out onto the balcony, goosebumps appearing all over your skin. you lit the cigarette with the pink lighter art had gifted you on your fourth date, all that time ago, when you mentioned you kept losing all your lighters. it was safe to say you'd kept this one. it had fake rhinestones forming your initial on one side. you recalled thanking art with a very excited hug and an even more excited peck.

"you made it?" you had ask him, the glint in your big eyes almost matching the glimmer of the rhinestones under the streetlamp. when art nodded, you gushed, hugging him again. "it's beautiful, art, i love it."

"i'm so glad," he smiled. you looked ethereal, all the eagerness painted on your face, cheeks rosy from the cold, babbling about how sweet you found it.

"hey, do you have any more rhinestones left?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, here," he handed you the stickers, watching you start putting some more on the other side of the lighter. "what are you-"

but he was shut as he guessed the shape of his own initial, a very shimmering 'A'. once finished, you showed it to him proudly.

you both broke into laughter, cheeks flushed and hurting from the smiles, but it didn't matter. not when you felt so safe around him. and certainly not when he pulled you in for a kiss.

taking another drag of the cigarette, you traced your fingertips against the initials on the lighter. call it luck or fate or whatever, but none of the rhinestones had ever unstuck from where you both had originally placed them.

you sat on the beach chair that you'd placed on the balcony last night, before getting trapped between art's arms and lips, and getting lost in him. tipping the ashes off of the end of the cigarette, you opened the sketchbook. it was actually another of art's little thoughtful gifts that he loved to give you, and you loved to receive.

on the first page of it was a sweet little dedication art had written.

'for my angel girl, so you can be an artist and carry me always with you (get it? because i'm ART and you're an ARTist? so funny, i know.) love you forever baby <3'

it always made you smile when you read it, and reach over to kiss him for no apparent reason, leaving him a curious, flushed mess.

on the page you were currently at, there were some seashell doodles from your last trip to the beach. art had picked them out for you, and peered through the whole process with his head resting on your shoulder. beneath the collection of seashells was a watercolor drawing of art's beautiful, dual colored eyes, and a little sketch of a couple of figs.

looking over, your eyes settled on the pastel colored laundry your neighbors in front had hanging and swaying lightly with the dawning breeze.

your traces were fast but precise. soon, the laundry was replicated under your pencil. shirts and pants and socks and even a bra. the cigarette dangled from your lip, forgotten amidst your concentration.

you were so absorbed in drawing little daisies on the socks you didn't hear the sheets rustling as art stirred awake, or his soft footsteps as he approached you. thus, when you heard his voice, you were startled for a second.

"hey, artist."

you turned to him, eyes big. the movement was so sudden the cigarette fell to the floor.

"hey, art," you smiled, setting down the sketchbook and pencil and standing up to greet him.

his hands were on your waist in no time, pulling you in for a kiss. you nuzzled your head onto the warmth of his chest, running your hands on his back.

"morning," you looked up to him. art smiled. god, that smile. it drove you crazy, made you weak at the knees. your soft fingertips drove up to trace his smile lines, trailing down to his jaw in no time.

he tucked some strand of hair behind your ears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "were you drawing?" art asked, spinning you around so you both faced the view, his arms around your waist.

the sky was not fully blue yet; pink and purple hues shining over the horizon.

"mhm," you hummed. "i want to colour it later, will you help me?"

"of course, baby," he mumbled, pressing kisses to your cheek.

it was something silly you two did sometimes. after pouring you both some coffee (you made it for art the way he liked, as he prepared yours as he'd learnt from several coffee dates), you'd pull out some colour pencils or sharpies and paint the little doodles you had drawn.

"hey," art whispered. "we live together."

you smiled. "yeah, we do. it's perfect."

art huffed at that. "the walls are on the verge of falling apart. and the people from the bar downstairs were noisy as fuck. and the shower-"

"shut up," you playfully hit his arm, rolling around again to face him once more. "it's you and i. sounds perfect to me."

he gifted you another smile. "you're right. it's ours. that's more than enough."

was this your own personal heaven? you found yourself thinking that often, as you got lost in his always tender eyes, or the sound of your laughters together, or the tingles he left on your skin, or the way you loved each other. as he lifted you up and carried you inside for your first breakfast at your place, you were sure of the answer. yeah, of fucking course it was.

#mike faist x reader #mike faist #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers x reader #dodge mason x reader #heartcereql

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softaestluv · 6 days ago

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Three’s A Crowd

Ghoap x Neighbor! Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Tags: Teasing, Flirting, Attempt at humor, Ghoap are cocky dicks who also have big d!cks, butt plugs, lingerie, dirty talk, & self masturbation

This chapter does contain smut! 18+ content!

Summary: When you moved into your new apartment complex you thought your biggest concern would be something practical such as mold in the shower or weak water pressure. Maybe even the smell of lingering cigarette smoke or marijuana from previous tenants.

You never expected it to be your neighbors who seemed to have a sex drive that rivaled any succubus or horned college teenager.

A box.

A small box left on your doorstep.

You had assumed it was a package you ordered, even though you didn’t quite remember ordering one. However, the box wasn’t what frazzled you; it was the contents inside that had your face burning.

It was a lingerie set.

Pink lace.

Tiniest thong you’ve ever seen, decorated with delicate frills.

Thigh highs with a garter belt, two white bows on the back of each stocking.

Baby doll dress, see-through and ruffled.

A small metal item, a pink diamond skull etched on the end of the cork, had you furrowing your brows at the sight. You didn’t know what it was, but you definitely didn’t order it.

You closed the box, reading the name out loud, “Simon Riley.”

You didn’t know a Simon. Didn’t know a neighbor named Simon. You couldn’t imagine any of your other neighbors ordering these items besides John and Lieutenant Riley next door. Though, the lingerie looked a little too small to fit John.

Either way you made your way over, knocking on their door. Greeted by a clothed Riley, thanking the gods above that you didn’t have to stare at his defined pecs or hips bones.

“Uhm, I think I might’ve got one of your packages on accident.”

“Hhm?” He hummed, opening the flaps of the cardboard as you held it out to him on your palms.

He pulled the babydoll dress out, holding it between the two of you. Your face burnt at the sight, embarrassment stinging your chest as he held it up like it was nothing. Held it for any other neighbor to walk out and see. Looked even tinier in his large palms.

“Hmm, no. It’s yours.”

You shook your head, laughing stiffly, “Ah, no, I didn’t order this.”

“I know.” He placed the baby doll back in the box and closed the flaps, tapping his fingers on the top, “I did.”

“What?”

“I ripped your panties didn’t I?” He mused, leaning against the door frame, and crossed his arms. A smug position you were starting to get tired of.

“This is more than panties.” You deadpanned, clenching your fingers around the stupid cardboard.

“Thought you would look good in these too,” He said, shrugging his shoulders like you were talking about the weather and not sexy lingerie that he had bought you.

You, a complete stranger to him other than living next to him. And he was buying you lingerie of all things. A first for a housewarming gift.

“What about this?” You asked, grabbing the metal cork, “What’s this?”

He chuckled darkly, “A butt plug.”

“What?” Your eyes widened, dropping it into the box like it burnt your fingertips, “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Well,” He smirked, pulling it back out, “I got you a small one. I assumed you’ve never used one before, so it should be pretty easy for you to make fit. It just keeps you stretched and prepped for anal sex. Though, you’ll have to finger yourself first. But Johnny and I can always help you with that, if you want.”

Your mouth gaped, frantically waving a free hand in front of him to get him to shut the hell up, ears ringing with warmth, “Stop! Stop! Please! I get it!”

You placed the box against his chest, shaking your head earnestly, “I’m not taking this.”

“I bought it for you, doll.”

“I’m never going to wear this,” You said, emphasizing your words when you pointed to the butt plug, “Or use that.”

“Keep it. You might change your mind someday. Or think of us when using it, at least.”

With that, he closed the door and left you standing in the open hallway with a box full of lingerie and sex toys. At least you finally knew the masked man’s first name.

You had planned not to use the items— ever.

Had thrown them in your closet the moment you returned from the embarrassing interaction in the hallway. Couldn’t believe the audacity of your cocky-ass neighbors.

Just because they were sex addicts didn’t mean everyone was fine with receiving sex toys as gifts.

Your past lovers hadn’t even bought you sex toys or lingerie, for that matter. None of which would even imagine using a toy on you.

Except a few days later, you had been awakened to, big surprise, John’s Scottish moaning. You don’t know what came over you, why you had laid awake and willingly listened to the noises they were making. Didn’t try to drown them out with headphones or pillows.

Maybe it’s because in the back of your mind there was that box in your closet, dainty frills, and metal butt plug.

The fact that they had bought it with you in mind, imagined you in the delicate lace, and pink metal. Had thought you would look pretty in it, made you jump up, digging through your closet to find the stupid box.

You didn’t even know how to use one, never had anything near your ass before. But Simon’s words kept ringing in your head, and for some reason, their deep grunts had your body hot. Burning with uncertain desire. Laid there: butt plug in one hand, lube in the other.

Maybe this was their plan all along; moan so loudly that one day your body would react, would have your core warming.

It didn’t fucking matter why because they would never know, would never actually see you in it. So you gathered the lube on your index finger before you could have second thoughts, dipping into your panties. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the cold consistency, jumping slightly in reaction.

You started slow, spreading the lube around your rim. It wasn’t necessarily an amazing feeling, but your nerves had you reacting strongly, uncharted territory made it that more exciting.

When you built enough courage you slipped the tip of your index finger in, fighting the resistance from your walls, inhaling deep at the foreign intrusion. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel uncomfortable. Felt full, like your finger didn’t belong there. It was harder to push the whole digit in, had to regulate your breathing to bottom out.

“There we go, Johnny.” Simon’s voice came through the wall, hoarse and tense.

Made you clench around your finger, breathe hiccuping as you imagined he was saying it to you. That he was praising you for taking one of his fingers.

You couldn’t even imagine how his or John’s fingers would feel inside you. Your index finger alone had you adjusting to the stretch, and their hands were twice the size of yours.

Your hips arched down before you even realized it; instincts seeking out a different kind of stretch. A stretch only the men across the wall could provide, brawny and massive. Would have you stretched thin around their thick knuckles.

You tried to push your middle finger in, but your walls wouldn’t have it. Made you whimper quietly under your breath when you had to scrape your index finger through the ridges of your walls, making yourself lax and pliant to press your second finger in.

The second finger hurt, had your eyes widening and your body tensing tightly, but it was as if Simon knew, mumbled praises to John just when you needed.

“You can take it, be a good boy for me.”

His low drawl practically had your body loosening and the whine that followed from John after made the burn subside slightly.

Your legs were shaking as you bottomed the second finger out, couldn’t hold in the soft mewls that slipped past your throat when you slowly began to fuck them in and out of your walls. Trying your best to ignore the pain, focus on Simon and John’s moans and praised and not the sting.

Pretend as if you were in the room with them, that you weren’t a block of plaster away. That it was Simon’s fingers inside of you, John’s fingers on your clit, both of them on either side of your frame, whispering low hums in your ears.

You were embarrassingly close to finishing, hadn’t even inserted the butt plug. So you lathered the cold metal in lube, pressed it to your hole, tried your best to relax as you bullied it through your walls. Squeezed your eyes tightly shut as the slender tip enlarged, and broke through your entrance with a wet pop.

Made you snap your hips down with a loud gasp, eyes welling with tears at the intrusion. A gasp so loud the motions behind the walls stopped, noises dying into silence as you slapped your hand over your mouth. Eyes widened in embarrassment because they definitely heard that.

But that wasn’t even the most distracting part; the butt plug was pressed to the hilt now, gem rested against your rim. Had your breaths faltering in your chest, felt incredibly full.

“Did ya hear that, Johnny?”

“I did, Si.”

You cringed, burying yourself into your blankets, butt plug forgotten, face burnt too strongly to care about anything else.

“Think our birdie decided to join us.”

You held your breath, made yourself as tiny as possible between your sheets, and tried to make no noise. Hide from them even from the comfort of your own sheets. But your movements made the butt plug press deep into your walls, had you crying out in shock.

A noise that had both men chuckling darkly behind the wall, continuing the onslaught of thrusts, you presumed, to Johnny.

Their acknowledgment, the fact that they knew you were across the way, fucking yourself with the butt plug they bought you. To their fucking noises had your body heating in a way you’ve never felt before, embarrassment, humiliation. But it made any uncomfortable tenses from the plug evaporated from your body, melting into blinding pleasure.

Each thrust had you reacting stronger than the last, moans matching that of the men across the wall. Quivering as you replayed their words in your mind.

‘our birdie’

Made each movement that more intense.

Didn’t even care that they could hear you, synced your motions with them, clenching down sporadically around the bulb as you came, Johnny’s moans edging you along as you convulsed. Squeezed the plug so tightly you were sure it would break in two.

Came undone around the stupid butt plug they bought you, to the sounds you had grown to despise.

Tag list: @avatar-lover @cheese-pull @entityunbound @theheartcollecter @leon-thot-kennedy @yunho-leeknow @star-buck-barnes @bluebarrybubblez

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killerlookz · 9 months ago

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Is It Really You? | Joost Klein

description: Based on the song Is It Really You? by Loathe (aka one of the most beautiful songs of all time i'm being so serious) Following a breakup with your long-term boyfriend, the man you were certain you would marry, a night with your best friend, Joost proves that love may lie elsewhere for you.

content: Joost Klein x f! reader, 18+ suggestive content (no smut), RPF, smoking, mention of drinking, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, cheating, fluff, best friends to lovers(?).

word count: 3363

"Is it really you...? Let's search the sky for a while, you and I, collide like two stars for a while, you and I."

Your eyes burn as another bitter tear falls down your cheeks, the taste of salt grazing your quivering lips as the droplet drips off your chin. The early summer air was getting cooler as the sun had long been set, a small breeze stinging your tearful eyes as it blew past your face.

"Oh," The word drops painfully from the mouth of the man beside you, as if you had just broken his heart right then and there, "Oh, don't cry." The familiar voice of your best friend was of little comfort now.

You suck in a deep breath, shaky as your chest spasms, struggling to maintain composure. You gaze out at the city that surrounds you, bright and alive with a bustling nightlife, a nightlife you had found yourself so often partaking in. But tonight, as you sat on the roof of your apartment, you were merely an observer, far removed from the fun of the city.

"Five years, Joost." You turn to face the blonde next to you, "five, down the drain."

His face is pained, pink lips pulled downwards as his eyelids fall and eyebrows furrow, "Het spijt me." (I am sorry) He shakes his head.

The last three weeks had been nothing but sorries, to the point the phrase had begun to make you nauseous, your stomach churning as the condolence had left Joost's mouth. Everything about him told you that he actually meant it, but still- you couldn't bear to hear any more sorries.

"I thought I was going to marry him," You turn away from Joost, facing back to the skyline that surrounded you, observing the buildings, and the multitudes of colors that shone from their windows. Your chest ached, you didn't understand how someone you had loved so much and for so long could leave in an instant, seemingly so nonchalantly, with not so much as to even give you a face-to-face goodbye, "Fuck." You mutter, feeling a familiar anger begin to bubble inside you- what a fucking coward.

A trembling hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes that sits beside you, grabbing the warped cardboard, and pulling out another cigarette. Looking into the box, only one remained, had you not been so consumed by your emotions you probably would have felt bad smoking almost the entire pack, considering they weren't yours.

"There's one left," You mutter, tipping the box in Joost's direction, offering him the remaining cigarette, despite the entire pack having been his in the first place.

"I'm ok," He shakes his head, "It's yours."

A small smile pulls at your lips in response to the gesture, but you just cannot take that response,

"No," You push the open cardboard towards him, "Take it. Humor me please." You had hoped he would accept, and indulge you in your shared bad habit together.

Joost reluctantly takes the pack from you, slowly pulling out the single remaining cigarette, and placing it between his lips. You watch as he struggles with the lighter in his hand that is clearly on its last life. With a flick, he's finally able to produce a small, orange flame, just enough to light the end of the cigarette.

He passes the lighter to you, his fingertips lightly brushing your palms as he hands the small, black object over to you. His slight touch sends shivers down your spine, almost making you forget your unfortunate situation for a split second.

Tilting your head down, and using a cupped hand to shield you from the gentle breeze, you attempt to light the cigarette that hangs from your lips. Your finger swipes down the cool metal, but you're unable to produce a spark, the serrated metal wheel is unturning as it bores into your skin. You attempt a few more times, left only with your thumb sore from its rough movements against the hardness of the metal.

"Here," Joost says, clocking your lack of success with the lighter. He leans in towards you, touching the end of his cigarette to yours. You note the proximity between you, his face so close to yours. You can't help but take a moment to admire him, the way his blue eyes glimmer behind the lens of his glasses, how his hair is just the perfect amount of messy, and how the warm colored city lights highlight the angles of his face against the backdrop of night.

Your spark of admiration reminds you of simpler times, of younger years, spent pining over your best friend in all of your teenage awkwardness. You had spent most of your childhood with an insatiable crush on Joost, one that went absolutely nowhere. Minus that one time, the two of you shared a drunken kiss four years ago, but it had meant nothing other than the fact that you were angry at your then-boyfriend, and you had had far too much to drink.

Still, you remember it like it was yesterday, having found out just days prior your boyfriend, Christian, had been hooking up with his ex-girlfriend the whole year you had been together. If you had known then what you know now, you would have left him, but having been dumb and 21 the answer to your problems was fighting fire with fire.

You and Christian had been at a party thrown by a mutual friend, having not spoken to him since you had found out what he had done, you showed up to the party with Joost, who you had, subsequently spent the entire night with. The kiss had taken place after god only knows how many drinks, and a night spent dancing with Joost like he was your boyfriend. You and Joost had found yourselves on a couch in the living room, Christian staring dead at the pair of you from across the room, his eyes burning into you- it had felt as good of a time as ever, Heartless by The Weeknd boomed over the speakers, to give him a taste of his own medicine.

To make a short story even shorter, you and Joost had become the focal point of the party for the remaining length of the song, having had him pushed back on the couch as you laid straddled on top of him, lips locked in a furious kiss, wandering hands exploring each other's bodies in a way that hadn't been entirely appropriate for such a public setting.

Following a heated argument after that incident, you and Christian considered each other even, willing to move on with the relationship as if nothing had happened. Joost didn't feel quite the same, the two of them had been on rocky waters ever since then, which, he didn't mind, he was far from fond of the man you swore up and down you were going to marry one day.

Blinking a few times you return yourself to the present moment, watching as Joost's chest rises, sucking in a breath, stoking the flame of his own cigarette so he can light yours. You inhale as well, which finally allows your cigarette to light.

You smile to thank him, the cigarette still pressed between your lips. You place two fingers on either side of the cigarette, taking a proper drag, feeling a familiar warm prickling in your throat as the smoke enters your lungs.

You face away from Joost to exhale, grey smoke dancing around you as another gust of wind approaches.

"I just don't understand," You start, your voice beginning to waver as memories of the last five years you spent with Christian came back to you, "How could he?" You inhale once more, deeply, hoping that you can receive at least some vague headrush from the nicotine. Exhale. "After all the shit I put up with, he leaves me." You face back to Joost, a grimace forming on your face, "With a text."

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, attempting to suppress the way your lips quiver as a sob threatens to escape you.

Joost's head hangs to the side, sympathy spread across his face,

"I don't think there's anything to understand." He presses the cigarette in his hand up against his lips, taking a quick inhale before speaking again, "He's just a dick."

"Easy for you to say," You sigh, "You're biased, you never liked him."

"Yeah," Joost says, matter-of-factly, "He spent the first year of your relationship fucking his ex-girlfriend."

"I cheated too," You mumble, you had never quite forgiven yourself for that incident, no matter how perfect it had felt in the moment.

"We kissed once while we were drunk." He furrows his eyebrows to take another drag of his cigarette.

"Still cheating," You shrug, even if he did have a fair point, you having kissed Joost in pure spite didn't exactly equal a year's worth of hooking up with someone else, "I mean," You pause to take a drag of your cigarette, "If I was your girlfriend, would you want me kissing other guys- even if it was because you had done something too?"

"If you were my girlfriend I wouldn't have sex with anyone else in the first place."

"That's not my point." You shake your head

"But that's my point." He says in earnest.

You flick your eyes up to look at him to find him staring back at you, his gaze unwavering from where it meets yours. He was right and you shouldn't have let the relationship go on for as long as it did.

With a blink more tears are spilling out of your eyes, unable to hold back your cries much longer.

"I wasted five years of my life," The tears continue to pour down your cheeks, "Five years is a long time."

A small smile appears on Joost's face, a sign of encouragement,

"Someday being with someone for five years will feel like nothing," You watch as the end of his cigarette burns down with another drag, a puff of grey smoke exiting his mouth as he speaks again, his voice softening, "But I know it hurts now."

"Yeah," You concede, hanging your head. "It does."

"I know the last thing you want is the 'it gets better with time' speech, but i promise you, it will."

"I believe you." You cannot look at Joost as you take another drag from the cigarette between your fingers, continuing to stare at the concrete roof of your apartment building as the tears continue to stream down your face. Deep down you know he's right, that one day you'll be with someone for far longer than five years, but it was hard to imagine all of the grief you'd have to push yourself through before getting to that point, mourning the last five years of your life seemed like a daunting challenge ahead.

You push what remains of your cigarette into the concrete, watching as the small flame extinguishes with a small plume of smoke.

"Come here." Joost sighs, slinging an arm around your hunched-over body. Instinctively, your head falls to the side, resting against Joost's shoulder. Moments of affection had been scarce between the two of you since the incident at the party, you knew that part of you feared what sort of emotions would be brought if you let yourself get too close in physical proximity to him.

But now it didn't matter, you were more than receptive of a shoulder to cry on.

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment, both fixated on the dark sky that stretches around you in every direction. The stars are nothing but a faint twinkle tonight, much as they had been every night, something you had gotten used to since moving to the city.

Joost's palm rubs soft circles into your back, lulling your shaky breaths to a stable cadence. You feel heavy as you lay on Joost's shoulder, your eyes burning and your head aching from how much you had been crying.

You can't help but let your mind wander, mostly about the past, about your life before Christian. Tonight had reminded you of old times, of when it was just you and Joost, the pair of you attached at the hip. Neither of you had very many friends growing up, and while you could appreciate your expansive friend groups now, and how much your lives had changed since you were teens, you couldn't help but miss moments like this, moments where you had him all to yourself.

You had accepted a long time ago that you were probably never going to completely get over the crush you had on Joost. Not that it mattered much anyway, it seemed harmless, and it obviously hadn't inhibited you from finding love elsewhere. A puppy crush was all you had thought it had waned down to. Joost seemed to only get more attractive as he aged anyway, having truly grown into himself. Sometimes you couldn't believe the man he had matured into- proud was an understatement.

"Feeling any better?" He asks, his voice low as to not startle you as he breaks the silence.

"I don't know." You mumble, your voice threatening to crack once more and your mind is a mess with pure confusion as to what it was you were feeling. Your heart thumps in your chest at a volume that feels much louder than normal, pumping at a rate that seems much too fast for the situation you're in, "Can I ask you a weird question?"

"Sure" He chuckles, "Ask me whatever you want."

"Did you like it?" The question quickly slips from your lips.

"Like what?" He responds, clearly confused.

"Like," You begin to trail off, unsure if you want to clarify your question, "When we-uh kissed?"

The soft motions he draws against your back are suddenly halted, and it feels like the entire city has gone quiet, like time has stood still, Your heart drops straight into your stomach, fearing the outcome of his rigid bodily reaction.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I liked it." His voice becoming more confident as words progressed.

"I did too," It seemed useless now to wallow in the guilt you had felt about that situation, you liked it, "Do you think we could-" You cut yourself off, not sure of how to finish the question.

Joost places three fingers on your jaw, grabbing at your chin to pull your gaze up to him.

You look at Joost through tearful eyes, questioning how to make your next move. A few seconds of anxious silence pass between the two, breathing heavily.

Joost's fingers linger on your jaw as you feel him pull you closer ever-so-slightly, the two of you inching nearer to each other. Unable to wait any longer, you push yourself forward, at the same time, Joost seems to have had the same idea, the two of you colliding with a force you hadn't expected, which almost takes the breath straight from your lungs.

But you only wish to get closer as your lips clash against Joost's with a hunger you weren't used to. You couldn't remember the last time you had experienced a kiss with such passion, with such intent behind it.

Your hands find themselves tangled up in Joost's hair, threading through and pulling at the already messy strands. Joost's own hands are planted firmly on your body, one on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

You began to slowly tip back, removing a hand from Joost's hair to maintain stability as you lowered your back to the concrete. Joost follows suit, not breaking the kiss as you pull him down with you.

He props himself up with a hand next to your head, using his other free hand to hold your cheek. You wrap both of your arms around his neck, attempting to pull him further down on top of you.

Joost's kisses soon leave your lips, soft lips trailing down your jaw and eventually your neck. Your chest rises, back arching as he connects with your throat, sucking softly. You let your head tip back onto the concrete, staring up at the sky as Joost continues.

Somehow the stars feel much brighter now, although you know that they aren't. But you're memorized by their faint twinkle in the heat of the moment, as your hands desperately grasp at Joost's hair, and your breathing begins to speed up.

Once more, you're overwhelmed, eyes damp once more as they well up with tears. You pinch your eyes closed, trying to force the droplets away, but it does nothing but push your salty tears down your face. It didn't feel so bad to cry now, not as Joost ghosts your neck with soft kisses, his hand dropping to draw reassuring circles on your hip with his thumb.

You arch your back, allowing Joost to wrap an arm under you, holding you tight. You whine as his teeth graze your neck, quickly soothing the small bite with his tongue. It's obvious Joost notices your response to the action, repeating it over a few more times, surely bursting some blood vessels along the way.

You recognized the sensation that was building inside of you, the way the muscles in your legs tightened and your abdomen strained, the paralyzing feeling of want terrorizing every nerve in your body. You bend your leg, pushing your hips forward. With your sudden movement, Joost's hand slips from behind your back to your thigh, his fingertips just below the hem of your pajama shorts. It's not quite where you want him.

A strangled, "Please," leaves your throat, causing Joost to hesitate, lifting his head from where it hung by your neck, his hand dropping from your thigh.

Pity is written all over his face as he looks down at you, fuck.

"I'm sorry," He shakes his head

"What?"

"We shouldn't-"

"No?" You choke, and it's like you could feel him slipping through your fingers, you clench your jaw, his name bitten into your tongue. You let your head fall to the side, the concrete is harsh, scraping against your cheek.

"Stop," You feel Joost's hand graze your arm, "Please look at me."

You can't bear to lift your head up, shame written all over your face. First your boyfriend now him.

"I don't mean to upset you, please, liefje, look at me."

His use of the phrase liefje making you immediately turn your head, confused.

"Don't call me that if you don't mean it." You frown

"I do mean it."

"Sure."

Joost lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead,

"Believe me," He mumbles, his lips still resting against your hairline.

"Then why can't we go any further?" You wince at the words that come from your mouth.

"We will," He raises his head to look you in the eyes, "When you're ready."

"I am," You furrow your eyebrows, "I've known you for 15 years, I am more than ready."

Joost frowns, "You just got out of a five-year relationship."

"Do you think I'm using you as a rebound?"

"What-no," He shakes his head, "I just don't want to fuck up your healing process."

"What if you speed it up?" You ask, lifting your head from the concrete.

"And what if I make it worse?"

"You won't" You plead

"Not tonight." He sighs, dipping his head to place another kiss on your forehead, "Let me take you out first, we'll make it special."

A small smile grazes your lips, your heart warmed at his effort,

"I care about you, y/n, I don't want to just have sex with you because we're in the mood, okay?" He speaks earnestly, making your pulse quicken.

"Okay," You whisper, "Can you at least stay the night?"

"I'll stay as long as you want," he smiles, and a few moments of comfortable silence engulf you both before he speaks again, "You know I love you, right?" You're unsure of if it's platonic love, or something more, but it doesn't seem to matter now, the very simple fact that he loves you was all you could really focus on.

"I love you too." You're unsure of how you mean it either, knowing only that you love him. Just as you always had.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x f! reader #rpf #joost klein fic

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rememberwren · 2 months ago

Text

A Dichotomy of Thought || 12

Prior and future parts here.

Simon gets even. Graphic depictions of violence. Food control. Ableist thoughts. Suggested sexual abuse.

Johnny is letting a cigarette turn to ash in his hand when he sees you leave the apartment complex. You droop in the overcast weather like a flower wilted by the cold, your shoulders bowed, your steps heavy even as you reach the sidewalk and push yourself into a jog. This is a ritual for you, Johnny knows—knows, thanks to those days spent planning murder.

He knew those days weren’t for nothing.

Sitting the cigarette on the balcony railing, he puts his first two fingers in his mouth and tries to whistle—it makes a pitiful little sound that doesn’t come close to reaching you. Red faced, Johnny thinks maybe it is for the best. God forbid you think he was catcalling you.

“She’s gone,” Johnny calls back into the apartment. He leaves the cigarette behind; he’s losing the taste for them. Even now the smell of one just makes his stomach roll. Everything these days does though, as his body struggles to adjust to no more OxyContin in his system. Even though the worst of the shakes and the shits are behind him, there’s the craving that never ceases—craving for that blissful loss of awareness, craving the weight of the pill on his tongue and the knowledge that with it soon things will get better.

He doesn’t need that today though. He feels it in the air. Things will get better. He doesn’t need to speak the words into existence, doesn’t need to pray nor pander. There is God, but then there is Ghost. Today belongs to him. Things will change because Ghost will make them.

“Alright,” Simon calls from where he’s at the sink doing dishes. He stops and leaves the water to turn cold, drying his hands on a nearby dish towel.

Gloves sit on the countertop.

“Come with me,” Simon says one more time as he slides the gloves on, working the fabric tightly over his damp hands.

Johnny is just as overwhelmed now as he was the first time Simon asked—because he knows Simon means it. Simon would take him, liability or not, dangerous or not, foolish or not. His word—unshakable, irrefutable as it always is—is proof that the weeks spent with a chasm between them weren’t for nothing.

But Simon isn’t the only one allowed to grow.

“I’d just put us both in danger,” Johnny says, slipping his hand into his pocket. “I’d rather that cunt get what he deserves.”

“Just going to talk to him, Johnny,” Simon says calmly.

“Could be…be…” there’s a word on the tip of Johnny’s tongue, but like something left on a high shelf, he just can’t quite reach it no matter how he strains, his fingertips brushing over familiar syllables like the cardboard box of his favorite cereal. He grits his teeth. “God fucking damn it all. Cocksucking fuck.”

“Notice you never forget any of those words?”

“Aye and thank God I don’t,” Johnny snaps. He forces himself to take a breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. The word he was looking for still doesn’t come, so he changes the sentence altogether.

“He could forget something as simple as a talk.”

“It’ll be memorable,” Simon promises, eyes glittering. He comes to Johnny and kisses him, cupping the jaw that’s grown too sharp over past months. Johnny’s lashes flutter, his hand leaving his own pocket and finding Simon’s waistband, fingertips curling into it to tug him closer—

They break the kiss.

“Just a talk?” Johnny asks, running his fingers over the metal grip of Simon’s sidearm where it is tucked in his pants.

“That’s the memorable part.”

Johnny is absolutely insane; he just laughs.

Simon’s last moment of doubt comes in the hallway with his hand poised to knock on your boyfriend’s door. What he’s doing could get him a six-by-eight cell in any of the country’s not-so-finest jails or prisons. It would destroy this little slice of life he’s built with Johnny, painful though that life sometimes is.

But he’d known it was coming to this long before Johnny had picked a fight with the monster next door. He’d known when you sat in his apartment and burnt your mouth on his tea. He’d known when he woke from a nap to see you standing in the darkness of his room wringing your hands. This isn’t just about Johnny.

What’s the use, Simon wonders, in looking the way I do, and having the skills I have, if I’m not making bad men regret being alive?

Ghost knocks on the neighbor’s door at half-past one in the afternoon. You are less than a quarter of a mile away from the apartment building, on your run. Johnny says your circuit usually takes you thirty to forty-five minutes which is plenty of time—as a matter of fact, Ghost intends to be in and out with time to spare.

He knocks again when there’s no answer. He knows your boyfriend is home, knows that he doesn’t work and spends most days being a lazy sod around the apartment. When he hears movement on the other side of the door, he steps back and lets himself linger innocuously within sight of the peephole. He purposefully doesn’t cut his eyes towards his own apartment, the door of which is cracked open, a vivid blue eye visible between the frame and the door.

Your boyfriend is smart enough to leave the latch lock on. He opens the door the few inches the chain will allow, his brows raised in a mix of derision and disbelief at the sight of Ghost on the other side.

“Simon,” he says dryly. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” Ghost says. He shifts from foot to foot, hands deep within his pockets, too aware of how still he can be and eager to appear human in this moment. “I feel like, like I put my foot in it. I wanted to explain myself, I mean.”

It’s bait, something shiny and dangly, hopefully disguising the cruel sharpness of the hook. Appeal to his own superiority. I put my foot in it. Make it more convenient for him to let you in than talk in the hallway. I wanted to explain myself.

Ghost can snap that chain like a line of fish wire, but it will make noise. He’s hoping not to attract anymore attention than he needs to.

Your boyfriend heaves a sigh, bracing one fist against the door frame. His face twists into something understanding and contrite. “Look, I don’t blame you. I wasn’t exactly being Prince Charming. If my mother had heard me talking to a lady like that, she would have whooped my ass, you know what I mean?”

It is difficult to believe that the creature in front of him has a mother at all, that he isn’t just spawned from sulfur and brimstone, something slimy and misshapen that crawled from a crack in the earth. But he must have a mother, mustn’t he? Even the worst men do.

Ghost hopes she’s dead.

“I know what you mean,” Ghost lies, like his mother ever raised her gentle hands to him. He clears his throat. “When I heard you call her a slut, I just—“

The shorter man winces, eyes flickering toward what little bit of the hallway he can see around Ghost’s hulking figure. He laughs a little, but there’s not much mirth in the sound. “You want to say that any louder? Jesus. Look—you want a beer?”

That easy.

“I could go for a beer,” Ghost says, face impassive.

Your boyfriend reaches for the chain. Ghost’s adrenaline spikes, slowing the movement, sharpening the colors, amplifying the sound as the latch comes undone—

—then Ghost’s boot is meeting the door.

It catches your boyfriend in the face, the crunch of cartilage sprinkled beneath the thud of wood on flesh as it batters him backwards and to the ground. Ghost forces his way into the apartment and shuts the door behind him quietly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” your boyfriend shouts, his words spraying blood and garbled as he gingerly feels at his injured face.

Ghost is on him in an instant, one skeletal hand gripping around his shirt and wrenching him up off the floor, seams in the fabric straining. He chokes him, gripping tight enough that the worm can’t even swallow, can’t suck in the breath to shout. His nose isn’t the same shape anymore, blood streaming from both nostrils, so dark it’s nearly black where it drips over Ghost’s fingers. Ghost has seen the expression on his face a thousand times before, just on other faces. The eyes are always the same: brown, blue, green, hazel, gray. Fear is always the same.

“We’re gonna talk,” Ghost tells him. “And you’re not going to do any shouting, understand me? If you do, I’ll make it even worse for you. Nod if you understand.”

Ghost uses his grip on the man’s head to make him nod. Blood splatters against his wrist between his gloves and the sleeves of his shirt, burning hot. His face is turning red with lack of oxygen, both hands scrabbling at Ghost’s gloved fingers, fighting for scraps of air.

“Good man,” Ghost says. He lets go of his throat.

Your boyfriend screams. Smart, honestly. His best chance at getting out of this unscathed is if there’s a knock on the door, after all.

Ghost grips his throat again, cutting off the sound before it can carry. Frantic, he takes up clawing at Ghost’s gloves and sleeves again, digging divots into the larger man’s forearms. Ghost tweaks the man’s broken nose just to watch his eyes stream with tears.

“Work with me. We can be civil, can’t we? Can’t we?”

There’s a struggle. For a moment your boyfriend manages to break Ghost’s grip (never underestimate the strength of a man afraid for his life). Ghost lets him run, blood dripping onto the laminate floors like a breadcrumb trail, and Ghost the monster following along behind. Your boyfriend seems to realize last minute that the bedroom is no good—there’s not even a fucking door to shut between them for Christ’s sake—and he feigns for the balcony instead.

Ghost forgot how much he likes the chase. It does something to him, something to his blood. He’s fucking good at this, good at giving a man a rope just long enough to hang himself with. Good at giving them hope just to watch it leave their eyes.

But it’s risky to underestimate the enemy, and Ghost can’t afford risks. Not for him. Not for Johnny. Not for you.

Ghost goes for his gun and slips it from the concealed holster in his waistband. It’s a comfortable weight in his hand, and at the sight of it, your boyfriend goes stiller than a statue. It’s game over, then. They both know it. His hands are shaking as he lifts them.

“Alright,” your boyfriend says, voice congested, blood smeared across his cheeks. “Just—calm down. You want to talk? We can talk. Civil, right?”

“Civil. Sit down,” says Ghost, keeping the gun fixed on him as he crosses the room and sits at the kitchen table, chair legs screeching across laminate. Not long ago, they were seated here playing poker together. But then, Ghost had only been wishing he could draw his sidearm.

Your boyfriend sits.

They talk.

The door closes behind Ghost, and Johnny can’t help pacing, holding his breath as he listens for sounds through the walls, for any sign that things are going south. But ultimately he has faith in Ghost; things will go whatever direction Ghost wills them.

Drifting around the apartment, Johnny freezes when he thinks he hears a scream, something high and bitten off. For a moment he hears the slowing thud thud thud of helicopter blades, feels the cold wind against his face as he realizes they’re going down. No stopping it. No getting out of this one, MacTavish. He can see the expression on his fellow soldiers’ faces, can feel their mortal terror reflected in his own. It is cruel to see death coming. Cruel and terrifying beyond measure.

Outside, it begins to rain.

“No, no, no, no,” Johnny says, staggering to the balcony. He stands there breathing in the cold air, blinking away the visions of the past.

Then he sees you, soaked to the bone. Coming back early.

“Fuuuuck me,” he mutters. His palm is sweating terribly despite the cold air billowing in through the open balcony. He closes the sliding door and limps his way to the front door, heart pounding.

He grabs his key off of the hook. He goes to jam his feet into his slip on shoes but the angle isn’t right and he has to stoop down, fix the angle with his hand, and then try again—god, had he just heard the elevator doors open?—come the fuck on, Johnny, they’re shoes, you’re a grown man, put on your fucking shoes—

He bursts out of the apartment and into the empty hallway. Shutting the apartment door behind him, he jams his key into the lock and tries to calm his racing heart. This isn’t like him. He’s been in high pressure situations before—he’s looked death in the fucking face—and never been this rattled.

Out of practice, I am, he thinks, hands shaking. Out of bloody practice.

The elevator doors open and you stand there, drenched from head to toe. You look even more defeated than you had leaving the apartment, and something in Johnny’s chest absolutely aches for you. His mouth wobbles. He forces it into a smile as he watches you approach.

“Hi, lass,” he says. “Fancy running into you.”

“Johnny,” you say with warmth that makes his chest flutter. You look exhausted, the bruises on your face more stark now that you aren’t wearing any makeup. Still, your shoulders sag with something like relief at the sight of him. “How—how are you? Practicing with your key again?”

“Ah—no, not this time. Just—trying to get in. But look at you, you’re shaking.” He opens the door, hopes you didn’t notice that it was already unlocked. “Come in, let me get you a towel.”

You glance toward your apartment door, face experiencing a host of emotions. “I shouldn’t,” you say with genuine regret. “He’s expecting me.”

“Just long enough to dry off and have a cup of something warm,” Johnny insists. You’re shivering even in the warmth of the hallway, and while you could easily go into your own apartment to dry off, Johnny prefers you in his.

“Alright,” you say, arms wrapped around yourself, mouth curled into an anxious frown. “Just for a few minutes. You said…a cup of something warm?”

“Aye,” Johnny says brightly, pushing the door open and standing aside to let you in first. “Could make you a tea if you like; Simon’s taught me well enough. Or I have coffee in the pot from this morning.”

“Coffee is fine,” you say. Your eyes flicker around the apartment. The door closes behind you both, and more tension bleeds from your shoulders as your eyes rake over him. “Are you alright? I was worried about you. Did he—hurt you badly?”

God, you’re a darling, even dripping wet with your clothes sticking to you (and Johnny doesn’t need to be thinking about that, about the way your curves are visible beneath the sodden fabric. He’s doing that more and more often lately, thinking thoughts he shouldn’t).

“I’m fine, love,” he promises. “Knee aches like a bitch. But when doesn’t it? Let me get you that towel, you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you mutter, looking down at the puddle you are making on the linoleum. “I’ll clean it up, honest—“

“Don’t worry about it. More worried about you. You’ll catch a cold like this.” Johnny fights to control his own limp, trying to salvage his pride as he goes to the linen closet and fetches you a towel.

It isn’t until he goes to hand it to you that he sees the splint on your littlest finger, and the towel nearly falls from his hand. You take it but he reaches for you anyway, his fingers softly angled and slow to move, like you are an easily startled animal.

“He did this,” Johnny says, taking your hand gently in his own. His heart is loud in his ears, blood throbbing in his skull as he coaxes you to turn your hand over so he can examine it from every angle. “How?”

“Just sort of—“ you make the motion of snapping something in two, and Johnny’s stomach rolls with nausea.

“Sick fuck,” Johnny mutters. He covers your fingers with his own, wishing to heal you.

“Doesn’t hurt,” you murmur. Your hand flexes, soft fingertips trailing over Johnny’s calloused palm.

“Liar,” Johnny says softly. He glances up to catch you already looking at him, your eyes wide and soft. The two of you are standing close enough for your breaths to mingle, and it shocks Johnny back into awareness. What the fuck is he doing, coming onto you?

It’s not like that, Johnny thinks to himself as he steps back and watches you try to towel yourself off, squeezing at your sodden clothes. But deep down he suspects it's exactly like that.

“I’ll get your coffee,” he says, wishing to put a little distance between you both. Pouring with his weak hand is harder than it looks, muscles trembling a little. He sloshes some over the lip of the mug and his face colors. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds you not looking at him, your eyes distant, cradling your hurt hand to your chest.

He weighs the pros and cons of asking you to carry your own cup to the table—but the table is right fucking there. It’s just a few steps. Surely Johnny can get ahold of himself long enough to make the journey. Taking the handle of the mug in his hand, he grips it firmly and steadies himself.

One step. His knee aches, but he doesn’t baby it. Two steps. Three—halfway there.

The front door opens and Johnny drops the mug. It shatters on the floor sending steaming coffee and shards of porcelain every direction.

Simon stands there, his figure taking up the entire doorway, something out of many men’s nightmares. But not Johnny’s. Clear blue eyes scan him over from head to toe, but other than having taken his gloves off, he doesn’t look any different.

“It was an accident,” you say, looking from Simon to the cup. Your hand is pressed over your heart, like an oath, like you’re trying to still it. “I was distracting him. I—“

“It’s alright,” Simon says, coming in. He shuts the door behind him. “Just a cup. Alright, Johnny?”

“Alright,” Johnny says. He raises both his brows, silently asking: are you?

Simon nods imperceptibly. He goes and kneels down in the disaster zone, delicately picking up the larger pieces of porcelain.

“Let me help,” you mumble, coming to kneel beside him.

“Don’t, lass,” Johnny says. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“I’ll be careful—oh,” you say, reaching out to hover your hand gently over Ghost’s wrist. “You’re bleeding.”

Three sets of eyes turn to where Ghost’s sleeve has ridden up, at the drop of blood there. Johnny stares in horror as you brush your thumb against it only to find the spot stays, the blood dried and coagulated.

Ghost draws his hand away, glancing up to meet Johnny’s eyes, exchanging a glance. “Old wound. Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t connect the dots.

Not when you clean the blood off the whitewashed door. Not when you mop it off the floor. Not when you sanitize the table.

Creeping into the bedroom you share with your boyfriend, you stand still like a rabbit in a dog’s gaze letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. His figure is in the same place it’s been all night, curled up beneath the blankets on his side of the bed.

You swallow. “Do you—want me to make dinner?”

“Not hungry,” he says, his voice nasally. You’d only gotten one good look at his face, but it hadn’t been pretty: both eyes darkening with bruises, his nose swollen and misshapen.

Not hungry. Alright. But: “I am.”

One of his hands reaches out and slaps at the key to the refrigerator where it rests on the nightstand. He takes it and throws it at you without looking, the key falling short and clattering against the laminate floors.

You drop down to your hands and knees, feeling for it in the darkness. You must take too long, because he sighs heavily in a way that makes your face heat up. Finally you find it and you slip out of the bedroom, eager to be far away from him.

Belly full, you slip into the bedroom hours later just to find him still awake, his breaths loud where he’s forced to breathe through his mouth. You turn the key over and over in your hand, deciding. Feeling his eyes on you in the dark, you creep to the nightstand and softly place it back in its spot.

He says nothing, not even when you slip beneath the covers beside him.

Dread fills you when he rolls toward you, but already your body is going soft and limp, your brain ready to escape away to a safer place inside. You know what’s coming, the pain, the humiliation. It’s a nightly ritual for him, same as brushing his teeth and washing his face.

Except he doesn’t touch you.

You lay awake, eyes on the ceiling, waiting. Even when he starts to snore—great sawing sounds—you cannot seem to shut your eyes.

You do not sleep.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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jenosbigtoe · 1 year ago

Text

na jaemin x catgirl!reader (M)

minors dni

summary: jaemin finds a stray catgirl and takes her under his wing.

warnings: hybrid au. lots of fluff :3, bratty!reader, dom!jaemin, big dick nana, loss of virginity, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, mild squirting, kitty eating (lmao), fingering, fellatio, praise kink

word count: 6.0k

a/n: jaemin is the biggest cat person i know (besides me duh) so why wouldn’t i write a fic about him being down bad for his lil catgirl?

jesus fuck this was long and took forever 😪 sorry it's posted later than promised but at least it's longer than my last two fics combined! lmk if you want to see more of jaem and his catgirl bc im really liking this au

“fuck this shit man.” jaemin was so sick of his boring ass 9-5 office job. every single day he deals with incompetent coworkers (how did they even graduate high school), entitled clients, and a shitty boss that wanted to put all the work on him because he knew jaemin was a good employee.

jaemin took out a pack of newports and lit a cigarette, leaning his head back against the alleyway wall and sighing in frustration. the cold winter air bit at his nose but he didn’t care. this was his one time to really relax right after work. as he was taking a long drag, a rustle from the dark alley caught his attention.

he paused. “who’s there?” jaemin squinted his eyes against the pitch black darkness. this was a shady part of town and jaemin knew better than to be hiding out in the back alleyway of a sketchy convenience store but he also had a reputation to hold up. couldn’t have anyone from his work or person life finding out the social butterfly nana was a chainsmoker and hated his life.

against his better judgement, he put out the lit cigarette and moved closer to the rustling noise. turning his phone flashlight on, he didn’t know what he’d expect to see. maybe a raccoon or a stray dog.

he certainly didn’t expect to see the sweetest little thing hiding and shivering under a dirty cardboard box. there you were, hair matted, skin covered in grime, thin clothes in tatters, brown ears pressed flat against your head. and despite your disheveled appearance, jaemin thought you were just the cutest thing he’s ever seen. as his phone flash shined directly on you, you jumped in fright, body immediately tensing up in alarm. you bared your teeth at him and hissed, claws extended.

“woah hey i’m not gonna hurt you,” jaemin back away slowly, putting his hands up.

“fuck off,” you gritted at him, sharp teeth still showing.

“what are you doing out here like this? it’s freezing and you don’t have any clothes. where’s your owner?” jaemin crouched to the ground, trying to inch closer to you but you tucked yourself smaller into the corner.

“don’t have an owner. don’t need one. m perfectly fine by myself. now leave me alone, human,” you growled at him.

jaemin attempted to reach a hand out to you but you swatted at him and hissed, leaving a small gash on his hand.

“do you have a name, kitty?” jaemin asked softly.

you continued to glare at him. “leave me alone.”

jaemin knew it would be really difficult to get you to open up but he had such a soft spot for animals, especially strays. and he couldn’t just leave you alone looking like this in the winter cold.

“kitty, it’s way too cold out for you to be here without any proper clothes.” jaemin stated. “my name is na jaemin and i only want to help you, okay?”

your body was still tensed in suspension of this stranger but as he continued to get closer to you, you got a whiff of his scent. nose scrunched up cutely, you sniffed up at the air, needing more of that delicious scent. god he smelled so so good. despite the bitter cold of the winter air, the scent of this stranger left your body feeling warm and fuzzy inside, slowly melting your tough exterior. but he was still a stranger, one you had no idea the intentions of, and you didn’t want to take any risks.

“stop patronizing me and just leave me alone, stupid human.” the longer you were around him, the less alarmed your body felt, but you still kept your guard up around this delicious smelling stranger. and jaemin didn’t miss how your body language slowly got less tense the longer you were around him.

jaemin got up slowly, deep in thought. “i’ll be right back, kitty.”

he disappeared around the corner of the alley again, leaving you feeling slightly empty. stupid, you thought. he’s just a stranger. of course he’d leave like everyone else. you knew that rationally but your body was acting so weird around this stranger.

you continued to sit there, huddled beneath the cardboard and desperately seeking warm, when the stranger came back, this time with a steaming cup and a hotdog.

“here, baby,” jaemin cooed at you, handing you the cup of hot chocolate and hotdog. for some reason, your belly felt so warm at his calling you baby. “you must be so hungry.”

you eyed the food suspiciously. “why are you being so nice to me, human? you don’t even know me. you don’t even know my name.”

“doesn’t matter to me. nobody, hybrid or human or animal, deserves to be shivering in the winter cold like this,” jaemin stated with a serious look on his face.

you cautiously grabbed the food and drink from his hand before scarfing down the hotdog in record time and chugging the hot chocolate, some cutely dripping down your chin. your brown ears twitched in happiness. god jaemin thought you were just the cutest thing.

“y/n. it’s y/n,” you mumbled at him. “thank you for the food.”

“y/n, such a cute name for the cutest kitty,” jaemin smiled brightly.

he reached one hand out slowly to brush your hair out of your face. you just about jumped at the contact, but as he scratched that sweet spot behind your ears, your tail swished in happiness and you started to pur in delight. you closed your eyes in bliss and leaned slightly into the contact.

“good girl. such a sweet girl. i know you were so frightened, all alone in this winter cold. but nana’s got you now, m’kay?” jaemin cooed at you.

your body and brain were melting. his touch felt so so good, it’s been so long since you’ve been pet like this. and his smell, god you’ve never smelled anything so delicious before.

“y/n, i know we just met and i know you must so scared right now. but i can’t just leave you like this in the cold. please, let me just take you back to my apartment and you can stay there for a couple nights. i have an extra room so don’t worry about needing to sleep with me. i’ll give you a fresh set of clothes and feed you while you’re there. but i can’t just leave you here in good faith.” jaemin gave you a sincere look, practically pleading for you to come back with him.

your tail stop swishing and you scrunched your little nose in heavy thought. on one hand, you knew next to nothing about this man and he wanted you to stay at his place? but a warm bed and a fresh set of clothes and hot meals sounded so so good… and how much harm could this good smelling stranger even do to you… the rational part of your brain was telling you no, this stranger couldn’t be trusted. who knows what he’d do to you once you were in his territory? but your body was saying otherwise, he made you feel so good inside and he could take care of you even for just a few days.

you gave a long hard stare before replying. “okay. just for a little bit,” you whispered softly, still scared out of your mind.

jaemin used his beefy arms to support your weight as he helped you stand up on shaky legs. he wrapped his winter coat around your shivering body, cooing sweet reassuring words into your ear. his scent was absolutely intoxicating to you, leaving your mind fuzzy and full of him.

as soon as you stepped into his apartment, you were greeted with three balls of white fur bombarding your legs. one licked and nibbled on your toes, another purred and rubbed itself against your legs, and the other circled around your legs, tail swishing happily. you squealed at the sight, such cute kitties!

“ah ah lucy, luke, and luna, let’s not scare our guest, okay babies?” he spoke to them in such a gentle tone, it had your heart melting.

“n-no, s’okay, nana. i love kittens,” you reached down to pet them and give them chin rubs. all three kittens cuddled close to your body and let out loud purs. jaemin’s heart fluttered at your usage of his nickname.

“what are their names?” you asked.

“this one is lucy, this one is luke, and this one is luna. i got them a few months ago. i didn’t want to separate these three siblings so i just adopted all three. aren’t they just the sweetest things?”

you nodded, letting out purs alongside the kittens. you would never tell him this now but you also thought jaemin was so sweet.

he crouched down to pet the kitties alongside you. “they must really like you. they’re not usually this sweet and welcoming to guests. guess they recognize a kitten just as cute as them too.”

you pretended to not notice his last comment but your red face and happily swishing tail gave away your happiness.

“y/n, let’s get you into the bath and some clean clothes, hm? i know you must be dying to get this grime off you,” jaemin gently whispered, still petting the three purring kitties on the floor alongside you.

you paused, ears twitching. “bath?”

“yeah, a bath,” jaemin replied, looking up at you to gauge how you felt. your nose was scrunched up cutely in disgust at the mere idea of a bath.

“don’t need one. can lick myself clean,” you grumbled, pouting slightly.

you stopped petting the kitties, who seemed very displeased at the lack of attention you were giving them, and finally took a look around his apartment. the unfamiliar environment made you slightly uneasy but somehow you knew you were going to be safe. everything just smelled so strongly of him, it made your head dizzy and belly warm.

“kitty, you need to take a bath. i’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable now but you will feel so much better after,” jaemin gently reassured you.

you shook your head, cheeks puffed and ears pinned back. “no. don’t want.”

jaemin sighed, rising to his feet. “c’mon baby. let me run a warm bath for you. i promise it will feel so good.”

he tried taking your hand but you hissed and swatted at him. “no. away.” you backed yourself into a corner.

jaemin gave you a defeated look before disappearing around a corner. you sat back down to cuddle and play with the kittens.

jaemin came back to see you playing with the kittens so happily. it seemed they really helped make you feel comfortable in this foreign environment and his cats liked you so much already.

“kitty, come with me,” he prodded at your arm.

you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “where are you taking me?”

“you’ll see.” jaemin decided to take it upon himself to carry you in his arms bridal style. his strength had you flinging around like a ragdoll, making you very angry.

you started clawing and biting at his arms, kicking your legs and screaming wildly. “let me go! let me go! hey!”

he brought you into a steamy bathroom and sat you on the ledge of the bubbly bathtub. he used his strength to pin your hips in place as he kneeled and situated himself between your legs.

“baby, i know you don’t want to take a bath but you need to wash this dirt off yourself. just listen to nana, hm?” he stared deep into your eyes with a serious look on his face, causing you to shift around in unease.

you broke eye contact and looked away, pouting deeply. “fine. you’ve literally given me no choice anyway. i’ll get in the stupid bath.”

you practically ripped your tattered clothes off your body and jumped straight into the water, splashing water and bubbles every where. you thrashed around wildly in the water, slipping and sliding all over the place. god, how long ago was it since you’ve had a bath like this?

jaemin reached into the water and held you firmly upright, using his thumb to rub you reassuringly. “woah, kitty. be careful, it’s dangerous to be so careless in the water. you can hurt yourself.”

“too long since i’ve had a bath like this,” you moaned, slipping under the water til your nose was just sticking out.

jaemin rolled up his sleeves and started rinsing your hair, massaging circles of shampoo into your scalp. you purred contentedly, tail swishing and splashing in the water.

“such a good kitty, doing so good for nana,” he murmured lowly as he washed and rinsed your hair and body affectionately.

you stayed in the tub, splashing around happily, until the warm water began to run cold. jaemin allowed you to step out before drying your body with a fluffy white towel. he dressed you in a pair of his grey sweatpants and a fuzzy black hoodie that smelled oh so deliciously of him. you inhaled the neckline of the hoodie deeply, his smell making your limbs dizzy and head fuzzy.

“all better now, kitty?” he smiled teasingly at you.

you gave a sheepish smile back. “thank you, nana.”

“it’s getting late, baby. let me get you a little snack. stay here on the couch,” he gave you a small peck to your head and walked to the kitchen.

his kittens strutted up to you, meowing and begging to be held. you grabbed all three in your arms and snuggled them close to your chest, pressing kisses to their fluffy fur.

jaemin walked into the living room, holding a glass of warm milk and a plate of cookies, to see you with his babies. his heart fluttered at the sight, so freaking adorable.

“this is for you, y/n,” he walked over and handed you the milk and cookies.

you smiled appreciatively at him before furrowing your eyebrows cutely. “why are you being so kind to me? we just met a few hours ago.”

jaemin shrugged his shoulders and sat next to you, grabbing lucy into his lap and stroking her fur. “i’ve always been a cat person, as you can see.”

you munched on the cookies happily and let the kittens snuggle up to you. luke and lucy fell asleep on your lap, purring contentedly. you let out a soft yawn and fluttered your eyelids. jaemin chuckled. you were just so stinking cute.

“getting sleepy, baby? i’ll take you to the guess bedroom,” he grabbed your arm, sleepy kittens still in hand, before leading you to the room right across from his bedroom.

“can i sleep with the kittens tonight?” you whispered softly.

“of course, baby,” he replied.

before he could turn to walk back to his room, you grabbed his sleeve and gave a quick peck to his cheek before scurrying to hide underneath the covers. your face was hot and red.

so freaking cute, jaemin though to himself, grinning widely.

it was the middle of the night. you didn’t even know what time it was but you couldn’t fall asleep. your mind was running a million thoughts all at once. what were you going to do when jaemin eventually got tired of you freeloading and kicked you out? how were you supposed to live back on the street now that you know what kindness feels like? you liked jaemin so much you didn’t want to leave him.

before you could think it over, you slowly got out of bed and knocked on jaemin’s door. a sleepy jaemin with a raspy voice and half-lidded eyes opened the door.

“yes, baby?” his sleepy voice was so sexy to you.

you stared hard at the ground. “m sorry for waking you, nana. i couldn’t sleep. would it be okay if i slept in here? just for tonight. you smell so good and comforting i thought maybe-“

he stopped you, lifting your chin to look you deep in your eyes. “kitty, don’t be so nervous around me. of course you can sleep in my bed, c’mon.”

he beckoned you over and lifted the comforter up, allowing you to slip in under the covers. he tried to lay a respectable foot away from you but you started whining and pawing at his arms to come closer. he scooted an inch closer but you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around you, snuggling your face into his thick chest and purring happily. your ears twitched cutely and tickled his face. jaemin was shocked at your boldness but molded his body to yours and cuddled you tightly.

“much better,” you sighed happily. you inhaled deeply, his smell flooding your senses. he was so warm and so comfy, you were in heaven. who would've guessed you'd be in this position when you were just swatting and hissing at him earlier in the night?

you fell asleep quickly, letting out soft sighs as you snoozed away. but now jaemin couldn’t fall back asleep. how could he? he had the sweetest little catgirl snuggling so cutely in his arms. he felt so guilty for it but he could feel his erection growing. he cursed at himself. stop being such a horny fuck. she may be cute but she trusts you to not be a freak around her, he thought.

somehow, jaemin ended up falling asleep and he woke up to you staring up at his sleeping face. your wide doe eyes were so cute just watching him adorably, he could wake up like this every day.

“morning, nana,” you whispered softly. during the night, your legs got tangled with his as you rest your hands on his chest. you could feel how thick and built he was underneath the thin material of his shirt, making your rub your thighs together unintentionally.

“good morning, baby. did you sleep well?” his deep morning voice sent shivers down your spine. his half lidded eyes and sleepy smile made him look so sexy.

you gave him a toothy smile, ears twitching and tail slapping against the bed. “yes i did. best sleep in a long time.”

he gave you a deep kiss to the top of your head, inhaling against your scalp. now that you’ve had a bath, you smelled so sweet and soft and milky. “glad to hear that. let me make breakfast before i have to leave for work.”

he slowly got up from underneath the covers, making you whine and reach for his arms to cuddle you once more.

“baby, i need to make you breakfast. can’t have my sweet kitty starve, now can i? look lucy, luna, and luke are here and they look like they want cuddles too.” he gave you a wink as the three kittens jumped on the bed and walked over to you.

jaemin returned with a plate of fresh fruit, eggs, pancakes, and some bacon. your ears perked up and you sniffed the air excitedly.

jaemin chuckled at your excitement. “hungry are we, kitty?”

you nodded excitedly. “i love pancakes. it’s been so long since i’ve had them.”

you scarfed down the breakfast jaemin made for you. bits of egg gathered at the corner of your mouth and jaemin wiped them away for you.

shyly, you told him, “thank you. for the breakfast and for everything, nana. i’ve never been treated this kindly before.”

jaemin scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, giving you a sweet peck on the cheek. “anything for my kitty.”

he checked his watch and jumped up suddenly. “shit! i’m gonna be late for work.” he rushed into his closet to grab clothes to change into.

you sat on the bed as he stripped to his underwear and put on black slacks and a white button-down. you blushed at the sight of his bare body, thinking he was so sexy but you’d die before telling him that.

rushing to put his shoes on, he gave you one final kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. “i’ll be back tonight for dinner, okay kitty? i’ll leave a 50 on the counter so you can buy whatever you want for yourself. see you this evening, baby.”

your heart sunk. you didn’t want him to leave you again. not when you just met. you knew he was going to come back home (he had to) but that didn’t fill the empty hole in your heart. your eyes welled up with a few tears before you wiped them away with your sleeve. jaemin has been so kind to you so it was time for you to stop looking like a bum and fix yourself up cutely for him.

later that evening, jaemin returned home to not just 3 kitties running up to him to give him some love but also you rushing up to give him a big bear hug. your little body crushing him with a tight squeeze as you nuzzled your face in his chest made his heart melt. he felt you purring against his chest as his arms wrapped around your body.

“missed me, huh kitty?” he teased.

you loosened your grip to look into his eyes. “yes i did,” you pouted seriously.

“i missed you too, baby. let me take these work clothes off so i can make dinner for you,” he replied, giving your head a sweet kiss and inhaling your milky scent.

you reluctantly let go as jaemin’s eyes widened at the sight. you were wearing the cutest little outfit he had no idea where you got it from. a short white mini skirt with a tight lacy pink crop top that showed off your plump tits that were practically spilling out of your shirt. you even had baby pink thigh highs with little bows on them.

“like it?” you smiled up at him, giving a little swirl. he caught sight of little white panties underneath your skirt.

jaemin was breathless. “where did you get this little outfit, baby?”

you smiled even wider. “used the money you left me to go shopping for this. i told the lady to help me find something to impress you and she showed me this.”

jaemin eyed your body hungrily, making you squirm and rub your thighs together. “so, nana? do you like it?”

jaemin gave you a tight hug, pressing his body against yours. you could feel his bulge against your pelvis, making your panties so wet. “i love it, baby. you’re so cute.”

your tail swished happily as you purred against him. “yayyy,” you said excitedly.

“baby, let me go make dinner for us, kay? just wait for me and we can cuddle after.” he hummed against your head.

for dinner, you sat in his lap on the couch, eating your steaming bowls of soup and happily cuddling with the three kitties. your little skirt rode up your thighs, causing your panties to peak out. you wiggled your ass around on jaemin’s lap, sighing contentedly as jaemin shifted around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening bulge.

“thank you again, nana. i appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you purred.

jaemin gave you a wink. “of course, my baby. you can stay with me for as long as you need. i’m not just gonna throw you out.”

you sat up excitedly, tail swishing, as you turned to face him. “really? you really mean it?”

jaemin nodded. “of course. stay with me as long as you need. my home is always open to you.”

you set your bowl down and gave him a tight hug. “yay yay yayy!! thank you, nana!”

you leaned back to look him in his eyes when you slowly looked down to stare at his lips. slowly, you inched forward and planted a sweet kiss on his lips, sucking and licking gently. jaemin was shocked at your boldness but reciprocated your kiss with a renewed fervor. you wrapped your arms around his neck and sat there on his lap as you made out with him intensely.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned against your lips, rubbing circles on your back and lightly bucking his hips against yours. you let out soft whimpers and moans.

you pulled away from him and rested your foregead against his to gaze deep into his eyes. you looked so fucking hot in that moment jaemin was about to lose it. puffy lips, wild hair, lidded eyes staring at him seductively, ears twitching so cutely. you stared at each other, air tingling with tension and need.

jaemin broke the silence. “baby, i don’t have work tomorrow. let’s go shopping and buy you some cute clothes to wear, kay?”

you nodded and sunk your face into his neck, sniffing at his sexy scent. “yes, i would like that a lot, nana.”

for the next few weeks, you would drive jaemin crazy. always prancing around wearing the cutest little outfits that would leave nothing to the imagination. snuggling and cuddling him so cutely whenever he had the tiniest bit of freetime to lounge around. sleeping in his bed and tangled up in his arms while rubbing yourself against his body. kissing him and making out with him at every possible moment but never going further than that. you were so so clingy with him, always whining and pouting when he had to go anywhere without you. and when he got back, you’d cling to him like a little koala. you were just his sweetest, cutest little kitten and he wanted to gobble you up.

“nana, don’t leave me. how long will you be gone this time?” you pouted and pawed at his chest, pressing your body against his.

“baby,” he sighed. “i need to go drop this off at the post office. i’ll be back in 20 minutes, okay? then i’ll give you your cuddles.”

you sniffled. “meanie.”

when he came back as promised, 19 minutes later, you ran and jumped up into his arms. “you came back, nana! missed you so much.” you pressed a sweet kiss against his lips.

“you’re so precious, kitty. my sweet kitty always so good to nana,” he hummed against your lips.

you pulled away. “nana, i have a problem.”

jaemin started to press soft kisses up and down your jawline. “hm?”

“i’ve been feeling weird lately. i don’t know how to explain it.”

he paused, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “what do you mean, baby?”

“everytime you touch me like that, i get all tingly.” you pointed to your privates. “i get all warm and hot down there. and my panties get a little wet. is there something wrong with me?”

jaemin’s jaw dropped in realization. oh. oh.

“oh, baby. uh,” he started, setting you down on the ground gently. “how do i explain this?”

you tilted your head expectantly at him.

“it means you need me.” he said simply.

you looked confused. “need you? of course i need you. you’re my nana and i’m your kitty.”

“no baby. it means you need me to touch you right there.”

you had a look of realization on your face. “oh.”

“baby, i can help you. i can make you feel really good. but only if you tell me, okay? i won’t do anything you don’t want.” he said slowly, gauging your reaction.

you had a sure look on your face. “nana, i trust you. please touch me.”

jaemin growled and smashed his lips against yours, gripping your ass with one hand and running his hand through your hair in another. you purred needily, rubbing your legs together and feeling that warmth between your legs again.

“baby, can i take this to the bedroom?” he sighed breathlessly against your lips.

you nodded excitedly and chased his lips with yours once more. he hoisted you up by your waist and wrapped your legs around his waist. you lightly grinded against his abdomen, causing him to groan and curse against your lips.

he threw you onto the bed, knocking you breathless, and climbed on top of you to kiss you deeply once more. you whined and bucked your hips up against him in need.

“need more, nana,” you whimpered.

“m getting there, baby,” he said as he started to take your skirt, top, bra, and finally panties off your body, never disconnecting his lips from yours.

he reached his hand down to lightly tease your leaking pussy. you felt so warm and hot down there, you needed more. “more! more!” you cried out.

he took one finger and lightly went around your sopping hole. “fuck, this pussy is so wet for me, huh? you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this. the perfect kitty.”

he plunged one finger in, which had you whining and bucking against his hand. as he pumped his finger in and out of your drooling cunt, he slowly added another finger, then another. he alternated between pumping your cunt and taking his fingers out to play with your clit.

you moaned and cried out. “fuck yes! yes, more, please oh god more!”

he planted a deep kiss on your lips. “my kitty is doing so good for me.”

suddenly, he ripped his hand from your cunt, which had you whining and pouting. then he crawled down to face your beautiful pussy. you were so wet and leaky, all for him. he groaned and shoved his face right into your cunt, tonguing at your hole before licking a strip up to your clit. you screamed and cried out, gripping at his hair and shoving his face further into your crying pussy. he started sucking and licking at your clit before shoving three of his fingers back into your hole, pumping up and hitting your G-spot. tears rolled down your face from all the pleasure.

you felt your core get tight. “nana! nana! feel funny down there… my pussy keeps leaking more!” you cried out.

he looked up from your cunt. he looked so fucking sexy, eyes lidded and face dripping with your arousal. “baby, don’t worry. just relax and feel good, kay?”

he dove back into fingering your dripping cunt and sucking and licking at your clit when you felt a wave of pleasure burst from your core. your cunt squirted out wetness as you screamed in pleasure.

“oh god! nanaaa!!” you sobbed, covering your face with your arm from the intense pleasure.

he grinned, licking his lips and fingers clean, and gently pulled your arm from your face. “let look at you, gorgeous. that felt good, right?”

you nodded vigorously. “nana, need more. felt so good.”

you pulled at his belt loop and started unbuckling his jeans. he let you pull his pants down as he took his shirt off, exposing his sexy toned body. you were drooling at the sight.

“nana, you are so sexy,” you whispered, staring directly at his chiseled abs.

he winked at you before finally pulling his boxers down and letting his rock hard cock spring free. your eyes got as wide as saucers. he was massive. so red and veiny, thick from base to tip, and a slight curve upwards. a bead of pearly white liquid gathered at the tip. his balls looked so big and heavy too. your mouth watered.

“wow,” you whispered to yourself.

jaemin smirked, giving himself a few pumps. “like it, baby?”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve never done this before. can i put it in my mouth?”

jaemin groaned. “fuck baby, you’re gonna be the death of me. so cute and so fucking hot.”

you leaned down and started licking the shaft, started at the base. you sucked his balls softly, letting the weight of them rest on your tongue as you moaned softly.

“just like that baby, fuck. sure you’ve never done this before?” he groaned and snaked his hands into gripping your hair.

you shook your head before licking his cock from base to tip. you gave his cock a small kiss and gulped. how were you going to fit this in your mouth. he was huge. slowly, you sucked on the tip before taking more and more into your mouth. you bobbed your head up and down on his cock as jaemin let out the sexiest groans. you let your tongue lick at the veins on the underside of his cock as you went faster and faster.

“oh, baby. fuck, you suck dick like a pro,” he moaned out. “you’re so gorgeous and perfect, you know that? i love you, my sweet kitty.”

all of sudden, you bottomed out on his cock, sticking it all in your mouth at once. you gave a few licks to his balls.

“oh fuck, fuck, fuck, m gonna cum,” jaemin cursed.

he ripped your head off his cock with a lewd pop. leaving you whining and chasing his cock for more. he threw you back against the bed and pinned you down, cock bouncing angrily against his stomach. you rubbed your legs together as your pussy leaked and drooled in need.

“as good as you suck dick, baby, i need to finish inside you,” he growled, giving you a deep kiss.

he reached into his nightstand to pull out a condom.

“what’s that?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head.

he ripped the packet open and started rolling it on his cock. “it’s called a condom, baby. you put it on before having sex to prevent pregnancy.”

you shook your head slowly. “do you have to wear it? don’t want you to. wanna feel your cock in my pussy raw.”

jaemin paused. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded. “very sure.”

he groaned and cursed to himself. something about “fuck, she’s so sexy and she doesn’t even know it.” he ripped the condom off and threw it off the bed somewhere. then he climbed back on top of you and propped your legs up against his shoulders and lined his cock with your entrance. he gave himself a few punps and teased your soaking hole with the tip of his leaking cock. “ready, baby?”

you nodded vigorously and whined, bucking your hips up to meet his cock. he bottomed out inside you with one thrust, causing you to scream out.

“oh, nana! fuck!” you cried deliciously. your ears twitched so cutely it had jaemin wanting to pound you hard and fast immediately.

he paused his hips to let you against to his size. “are you okay, baby?”

you kissed him. “if you don’t move i might lose my mind.”

with that, he pounded your little pussy with his big cock hard and deep. you cried and screamed at the intense pleasure, claws scratching at his back. the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass had you leaking all around. you squirmed and wriggled underneath him, causing him to use his strength to pin your hips to the mattress.

“fuck baby, you feel so good. real thing is much better than what i’ve imagined,” he growled against your neck.

“oh jaemin,” you called out.

his hips went faster and harder. “say it again. say my name, baby.”

“j-jaemin,” you cried. “jaemin jaemin jaemin! yes oh fuck yes!” in the deep mating press he had you in, you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix sweetly.

“oh baby, i love you so much. love my sweet kitty so much. so precious and so sweet to me.” he groaned into your neck.

you were losing your mind in pleasure. “oh jaemin, gonna cum again. more please more!!”

his hips rutted into you impossibly fast, god you were losing your mind. you felt your core tighten and burst with pleasure once again, waves of orgasm washing over your body. your pussy squirted all over his abdomen and spasmed around his cock. his hips continued to fuck you through your orgasm, leaving you feeling overstimulated with pleasure. fat tears rolled down your face as you sobbed and clawed at jaemin’s back.

“m gonna cum too baby,” he gave you a sweet kiss on your lips. “doing so good for me. so good for nana.”

with a final deep thrust, he bottomed out inside your pussy and let out hot white spurts of cum, so much that some dripped and leaked out even as he was still balls deep inside. he collapsed on top of you with a groan, inhaling your hair deeply. you laid there panting and covered in sweat.

“love you, kitty,” he whispered softly into your ear.

“love you too, nana.”

#nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin fluff

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macabrecravings · 3 days ago

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Newbies Guide to Degrees of Brutality!

Post inspired by @degrees-of-fuck because of this post :) Here I will list everything I remember about it, but take it with a grain of salt --

Degrees of Brutality was a DOL mod set in the US (instead of the UK) after Nazi Germany won WW2. (US was renamed New Berlin" to show allegiance w/ Germany) However, none of this was stated in the game, it was just what the creator said in the Discord.

DOB was an incredibly repetitive, broken, bare-bones mod (it only had a few builds before its removal and there were only a few character interactions you could have. I remember Whitney, Kylar, Harper, and Bailey.

The concept was interesting to me because it turned DOL into a survival game, instead of what it normally is. You had a thirst meter and a food meter that you had to keep track of.

Instead of living in the orphanage, you live in a house with your catonic parents. You need to make money by the end of the week otherwise your landlord will quite literally bomb/set your house on fire while you're gone. I found this out when I didn't make my payment on time and came home to nothing. Just ash. No house, no parents, and I had to live in the alleyways & sleep in a cardboard box.

Speaking of money, there were 2(?) ways to grt it. 1) Working at the Orphanage as a cleaner and 2) Donating your blood to Harper the doctor.

If you worked at the orphanage, you did not get paid very much but it became clear that Bailey was a murderer who was feeding the orphans human meat. So, if the orphans didn't pay him on time, instead of whoring them out or selling them to Eden... He kills them and feeds them to other orphans.

Selling your blood to Harper gives you a lot more money, but you could only do it a few times because it locks you into a bad end. The more you come in, the more obsessed Harper will get with you. They will ask you if you want to do another experiment and this results in them murdering you. There was a blurb at the end about them getting caught.

At the hospital, there is a chance that you will meet an unstable person in the waiting room. They are holding their arm, bleeding through their shirt due to self-harm. When you leave the hospital, you will be ambushed on the street by this individual and it is impossible to outrun them. This is Kylar :)

Kylar keeps you as a pet. You are given a dog bowl where they feed you soup that reeks of human meat, and they will cut your arms and legs off to keep you from running away. Unlike DOL Hysterial Kylar, DOB Kylar is unstable to a point of delusion and due to the extremely poor writing it was incredibly ... offensive(?)/stereotypical. They will also give you prosthetic limbs that they get from Harper. (The two of them work together a lot.)

Amongst working to get money, you have to eat and drink. This can be done by buying groceries for your house or by digging in the diner's trash and drinking puddles in the alleyway. Let's be honest, no one was making enough money in this game to buy groceries. They wanted you to dig into the dumpster for greasy hamburgers and drink gravelly alley water. It damaged your health, but honestly it was what I liked in the game pfpffjgjgn....

In the alleys, there are cardboard boxes that you can sleep in. But also, Whitney encounters! All they did was force you to smoke / eat cigarettes. If you refused, they'd cut a glasgow smile onto your face.

The encounters on the street from NPCs were so much more frequent than in DOL, and there was NO option to save. Except in your bedroom / sleeping areas. No save-slumming allowed. No saving before encounters, no escaping the frequent REPETITIVE encounters.

If you escaped Kylar, they'd bring you back and the whole thing would happen again and again. Cut your limbs off and have it show on your character model as if they hadn't already done it... Crawl around on your legs even tho they had been removed XD It didn't make a lot of sense.

IIRC, there was a casino. I didn't spend any time there, I don’t think there was much to do.

There was also a bridge that had guards and you had to pay to get across (get out of the slums/ your area). Here there was a shop, alleyways, and a library. This was hypothetically where you could get your skills up (like the grades & get new clothes bc literally 90% of DOB was running around naked). But, yeah. It didn't work too well. Cause it's impossible to make enough money for any of it and not die before then XD

It was the most Grindy Mod EVER and had No rewards for all of that grinding, just disappointment.... This is why I adore when people create their own DOB AUs :) ( @degrees-of-fuck @digenerate-trash ) As a horror/ dark fiction enjoyer I think the concept of "DOL but more brutal" is cool, but the execution was awfullllllll..... It's kind of lost media atp but there wasn’t much media to um... archive even XD

So, this is my archival of it~

#hoping this reaches new dol players who r curious.....#degrees of lewdity #degrees of brutality #original post🍓💌

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k-aay · 4 months ago

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☆ HEY, NEIGHBOUR. HEY, LOVER. (PART 1)

☆ SYNOPSIS : : There once was a boy who had feelings for a girl but didn't know how to express them. As a kid, he didn't know how to get her attention, so he beat up the guys who did, which only lit the flame to a long-lasting hatred between them. That was sixteen years ago, and now you both are twenty-one with homes too close for comfort. But what you didn't know is how attracted you were to him now.

FEATURING : choso kamo

NOTE : this took a little too long to write pls enjoy <3

WC ; 5.2k

CREDITS! : this work is owned by @k-aay on tumblr. please dont steal my work! (i do not proof read, sorry for any mistakes !!)

16 YEARS AGO !

"I hate you!" you screamed, stomping your small foot as your eyebrows furrowed. It was true, you hated the way he was acting right now. He stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy, denim jeans, standing not far from you. And on the ground beside him was your classmate wailing with a bruised eye. Choso couldn't care less about the trouble he caused. He kicked a tiny rock before him, "I did you a favour, stupid." You were seeing red at this point as you clenched your fists. "What is your problem!?" you grab him by the collar of his red shirt.

"Hey, let go!" Choso pushes you away, not using much force. "What the hell are you doing!? I was helping you!" he yells, pointing a finger at you. "You punched him! I didn't ask you to punch him!" He frowned. Of course, you didn't ask him to punch that jerk, but he did it anyway. He knew that you wanted that kid far away from you so he punched him. Why were you upset at him?

PRESENT

Choso Kamo was one of the staples of your childhood. He was notorious for leading the other boys in your elementary school like minions and demanding them to create as much chaos with him as possible. And he'd be damned if any of his minions stepped out of line. But that was almost a decade ago and you haven't seen him since middle school. Right now, you're unpacking your boxes after moving into your new apartment. As you sit on your brand-new couch and rest your feet on the cardboard box sitting snugly on the floor, you crack open your last can of beer.

"I thought you said you'd manage to handle unpacking everything yourself," your friend, Shoko says as she grabs the beer from your hand and chugs it. "Ugh, slow down! That's the last can." She wipes the excess from her mouth and hands you the can. "I deserve to drink as fast as I want after you enslaved me today." You roll your eyes and place your lips on the cold, metal top of the can, taking a sip. "And here I thought my best friend meant it when she said I could call her if I needed anything."

"No one means it when they say that. You're fucking stupid for believing that. I only helped because I wanted to see your new place. Maybe even design a room for myself." Shoko shifted her position on the couch, her legs over the top as she sat upside-down. "Why the hell would I give you a room?" She hits your legs, "Because I helped you clean the place with these hands. For hours, if I should add. And you live so close to campus and that gas station."

"I did get a good place, didn't I?" you say, fidgeting your fingers around the can. "'Good' is an understatement," Shoko says, pointing her finger at the window. Specifically the gas station near your house. "Now it's time to pay off your debts and get us some beer and cigarettes. Your treat." You groan, sitting back on the couch. "Go. I'll watch over your lion den." You stand up straight and zip your grey sweater up, slightly covering the shorts you were wearing.

"Fine," you say, slipping into your shoes as you hold onto the wall for support. You place your phone into the back pocket of your shorts and open the front door, stepping outside.

As you made your way to the gas station, you wanted to make the trip quick. Speed-walking through the store to gather the things you needed: bottles of beer, snacks, cigarettes and hangover medicine you know you'll need for tomorrow. You dumped the pile of happiness for the night onto the check-out table and carefully placed the six-pack of beer down too. As the cashier scanned everything, you faintly heard a group of male voices from outside gradually getting closer and louder until they were right outside the door. "Your total will be forty dollars. How would you like to pay?" the cashier dully says, tapping on the screen before him.

"Jesus... forty..." you mumble. "Card." pulling the shiny credit card from your purse, you pay for your items as the cashier puts them into a white plastic bag. You grabbed the bag and headed straight for the door. Right as you were going to push it open, someone had already pulled it open instead. "Yo, Kamo, you gonna go inside? Oh, shit-" the white-haired man cuts himself off after laying eyes on you. "y/n?" he says, a smirk forming on his face.

"Gojo.." you mumble, dreadfully. And in front of him was Choso Kamo. The little leader of it all. He towered over you, his eyes looking down to meet yours. And you hated the feeling of it even more, damaging your ego slightly. "Drinking with someone or are you all alone?" Gojo leans forward, resting his arm on Choso's shoulder who was staring at you with his hands shoved into his pockets the same way he did all those years ago. You didn't want to admit how good Choso looked with his long, jet-black tied back into a bun with a few strands falling in front of his face. "Fuck off. I have to get going. Because unlike you, someone's waiting for me at home."

"Who?" You looked up at the man who spoke coldly to you. It was just one word that sent shivers down your spine. His tone was nothing short of rough. He said that one simple word as if you owed him an explanation and you had to quickly remind yourself that you didn't. "That's none of your business." Gojo chuckles, removing his arm from Choso. "You'll let us in your apartment if we ask to join right? Seems like a lot of drinking for one small person." You were about to refuse them before the other one, Geto did for you. "Satoru, it's rude to invite yourself like that. Especially if you aren't wanted." His tone sounded soft and sincere, but you already knew Geto well enough from previous years to know that nothing was sweet under that angelic voice.

What you couldn't figure out was the man still intensely staring at you, Choso Kamo. You looked away from him and shook your head before pushing past them and walking off. "Not even a goodbye?" Gojo calls out yet you ignore him like you've been doing all these years. But you still felt as if eyes were on you.

Once you hurriedly made it back to your apartment, you placed the white, plastic bag on the floor and opened a beer. Shoko watched as you chugged the entire thing, reminiscing bad memories of not only your recent encounter with Choso and his little minions but old, previous ones as well. "Damn, who got your panties in a twist?" She asked, opening a beer for herself as she took a small sip. "Those wannabe-frat punks."

"Gojo and Geto?" Shoko asks, laying her stomach flat with one hand holding her beer bottle dangling off the couch. "Oh, and don't forget their little don," you aggressively place the bottle on the ground, but not strong enough for it to break into pieces. Your reminder of the two boys' leader grabbed Shoko's attention. "He's back?" You nod your head, not bothering to look at her. "Is he still hot?" Now you look at her, disgusted in fact. "Ye- no!" Shoko raises a brow as she takes another sip of beer, skeptical of you having to correct yourself. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"He pisses me off! I swear I wanted to beat him up with my bag when I saw him! Right on the spot where his little dick-sucking friends could see." You chugged the bottle, every last drop of the drink was gone. Shoko looked at you, realizing the extent of your anger. You opened another beer bottle and started drinking. "Once I get my hands on that deadbeat, motherfucker-"

It was hours later before the effects of multiple beers kicked in. Shoko left early due to an assignment that was due the next morning, leaving you drunk and alone. You were lost in your thoughts, mainly about the man you dreaded. You laid flat on your back, the coldness of the wooden flooring was one of the few things you felt after those beers. Suddenly, loud music startled you and you looked at the wall where the apartment next door was on the other side of. That was where the music was coming from. You were already upset and annoyed by the encounter at the gas station. Being drunk meant your decency to be a good neighbour, especially on the first day of moving in was kicked out of the window. You put on your slippers and exit your apartment, knocking on the door next to yours.

No answer...

So you knocked again. It's louder this time. Only now, the door finally opened. The muzzled-out music was louder and gave you a minor headache. Standing on the other side of the door was Choso, looking as calm as you were shocked. "Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes lowering to your body which was covered in a short, white tank top and jean shorts that almost fully covered your thighs. You felt his gaze lingering for a few seconds and a blush crept onto your cheeks when Choso's eyes met with yours again. It was like a staring contest you were determined to win. Even when he had his hair messily down, making it ten times harder for you to look at him, you weren't going to face defeat. Instead, you cleared your throat, trying to be as intimidating and nonchalant as possible as you slammed your hand against his door. "Turn down the music, dork. You're gonna wake up the entire building with that shit."

Unfortunately for you, your eyes lingered down on the very shirtless person you were berating. Choso's arms were crossed, covering half of the view of his chest. Secretly, you were praying for this man to let his arms down to his side. It felt like you were a high schooler all over again, drooling over guys from magazines but instead, you were drooling over the man that was physically impossible for you to get along with. But your intoxication left no room for shame and locked it behind chains and a metal door.

"No," he spoke. "Are you drunk?" You rolled your eyes and walked closer, stopping right in front of him, your slippers almost touching his feet. "Turn. Down. The. Fucking. Music. Got it?" Your arm leaned against his door as you waited for his answer. As much as you were scared, you stood your ground with confidence, until Choso leaned down to reach your height level. "No." You unknowingly backed up an inch, causing him the slightest smirk plastered on his face. "I'll-" Choso raised a brow as you stammered. You didn't know what you were gonna do if he refused. His smirk widened at your loss of words. "What? You'll what?" Being tongue-tied meant you had already lost the argument right when it started escalating to threats.

Unfortunately, you had no threats in mind. Damn him and how good he smelled right now. It ticked you off how weirdly attracted you were to him at the moment and you did everything you could to put that energy into thinking of a way to piss him off. "I'll call the cops and file a noise complaint."

He rolled his eyes and stepped back, leaning against his doorframe again. You were waiting for a response from him, but secretly regretting the threat of calling the cops. It wasn't like you were going to go through with it. Your mind was running with thoughts you knew shouldn't belong in your head, slightly fidgeting with your fingers as Choso's gaze remained on you. Burning heat spread across your cheek as his stare slammed into your eyes. "Okay. I'll turn it down," he finally speaks. "On one condition." You tilted your head, placing your hands behind your back. "Who did you have over tonight?"

"What?" His heavy eye didn't falter for a second after he spoke. "Answer the question and I'll lower the volume." You were delighted with the easy condition but as happy as you were came confusion. Why did he want to know? "I answer the question and you'll have it lowered?" you repeat, seeking reassurance. "As low as you want, sweetheart." Sweetheart... Why did it feel as if any of your rational and sane thoughts had escaped your head right when that name so casually rolled off his tongue? Especially in a way that shouldn't have you fantasizing about him. You blamed the alcohol for causing the way you felt. "So? Spit it out," he demanded, snapping you out of reality. "Cat got your tongue or are you too scared to admit that you were with someone and had some fun?" What was this guy thinking? Never mind that, the way he was acting suddenly gave you a little ego boost, reminding you about who has to be in charge of this situation.

"So impatient, Choso. Didn't you hear? Curiosity killed the cat," you smirked. He leaned forward, "Everyone always leaves that saying unfinished. Didn't you hear? Satisfaction brought him back, sweetheart." The way his mood was dead serious only pushed the situation to make you feel even hotter. "Now I hate to rush the moment, but I have a party to get back to. If you want the volume to be lowered, then you better fess up and tell me who you were with." You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to give him a piece of your mind by the way he was talking down on you. "Fine, fine! I was with Shoko. Shoko Ieri from high school." Choso steps away from you, placing his hand on his door. "Alright. Goodnight then." The door closed, leaving you with a lowered volume from the other side and still a heavy head.

Choso leaned against his door, his heart pounding against his chest as he replayed the encounter with you in his mind. He had always been aware of your presence; you were the girl who captivated him in a way he couldn’t articulate. Sixteen years had passed since those chaotic childhood days, yet the memory of your fiery spirit and stubbornness remained vividly alive in his thoughts. Even now, when you stood before him, looking so determined and slightly intoxicated in your little tank top and shorts, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to you. As he turned back into his apartment, a stark contrast to the chaotic swirl of emotions inside him. Gojo and Geto had organized a small gathering, and despite the noise, he wasn’t in the mood for a party anymore. Not when he was buzzing from your confrontation.

“Choso! You’re not just gonna stand there all night, are you?” Gojo called from the living room, pulling him out of his thoughts. The white-haired jokester was sprawled across the couch, a beer in hand, while Geto lounged in an armchair, flipping through his phone with a disinterested expression. “Yeah, man. C’mon, don’t leave us hanging,” Geto chimed in, looking up from his phone. Choso trudged over, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his thoughts still lingering on you. “What’s the plan? Just drink and laugh at stupid shit?”

"No fucking shit. Who was at the door?" Gojo asked. Choso shot him a glance and shook his head, "Just a noise complaint from my neighbour. It's nothing. Just continue where we left off." Gojo and Geto looked at each other before nodding their heads, continuing their yap. As the night wore on, Choso felt increasingly restless. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and tried to immerse himself in the conversations, but every laugh reminded him of you. The familiar faces of his friends were around him, but all he could picture was the fiery girl who lived just next door.

THE NEXT MORNING !

It had to be at least seven in the morning or even six by the way the sun was shining too brightly through the curtains of your window. Your alarm was found on the ground and seemed to have been knocked over. You rolled around, grabbed your pillow and roughly muzzled it over your face attempting to shield your eyes from the brightness. A hard-hitting headache kicked in but your tiredness from the previous night hadn't left. You threw the pillow to the side and sat up straight, stretching your arms. Going through your morning routine was nearly impossible with a hangover present. So you just brushed your teeth, got a hot cup of water and made your way to the balcony to take in some fresh air. The mug you took a sip out of was warm, heating your hands as the cool breeze from outside hit it. When you turn to your left to glimpse more of the view, you catch a sight you wished you hadn't discovered.

A still shirtless neighbour staring directly at you from his close balcony as he sipped on something from his mug. Choso's hair was tied back and eye-bags were visible even from the distance you were at. "Morning," he spoke. His voice was still deep and raspy after having just woken up. You nod your head, memories of last night flooding back into your head. "You get any sleep?" he asks, his expression showing that he doesn't care about what your answer is going to be but your gut told you otherwise. "No, not much." You kept your answer short and simple, keeping your distance from him. The feeling he gave you wasn't something that could be easily trusted especially after years of knowing him. Even with the sounds of cars and ongoing traffic outside filling the air, it still felt awkwardly quiet now that none of you were talking. You took a sip out of your cup, uncomfortably tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear afterwards.

"Do you still think about middle school?" Choso breaks the trend of silence. You raise a confused brow, caught off guard by his sudden question. "Middle school?" you repeat. He leans against the railing of the balcony, the small gap between yours and his being something you could be grateful for. "Yeah," he answers. "That's... random." You take a moment to think about it. It was so long ago that you don't remember that much about your days there. "Not really. Why?" Choso smiles. "You had a record for being a goody-two-shoes if I remember correctly." You roll your eyes, "And you had a record for causing all the trouble there. You didn't even have a reason most of the time." Before you even knew it, he managed to get you all fired up with only a few sentences. “Not really. You were always so serious. I wondered what it would take to get you to loosen up,” he says, his gaze steady and probing, those dark eyes searching for something in yours. You laugh, the sound is almost incredulous—a mix of disbelief and amusement that dances in the air between you.

“And you thought causing trouble was the way to do that?” Choso nods. “Absolutely,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if sharing a secret only you could hear. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension, charged with memories of past escapades and the thrill of possibilities. You can almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the casual intimacy of the moment drawing you in. “You still seem like you’re stuck in that same routine. Being stuck in the same loop of following nothing less than the rules, aren't you, sweetheart? ” His words hit a nerve, and a rush of defensiveness rises within you. “Maybe I like my routine,” you counter, crossing your arms tightly, a shield against his probing gaze. Yet, even as you say it, doubt flickers in the back of your mind, a tiny voice questioning whether you truly find comfort in the mundane.

You glance down, noticing how your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, a clear sign of the restlessness brewing inside you. It’s a familiar feeling, one that has settled in your chest like a weight over the years. The thrill of spontaneity seems like a distant memory, and the thought of breaking free from your carefully constructed life sends a jolt of adrenaline through you. He's getting to you. You remember who you're talking to and snap out of the reckless thoughts. "Not that it's your business anyway," you add to your previous sentence. "When did you even move here?" He shrugs, "Before you. Maybe three months prior." His answer causes you to raise a brow, "I've been coming in and out of this apartment for almost a week now. How come I've never seen you even once?"

“Guess I’ve been keeping a low profile,” he replied a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “I like my peace and quiet. But it looks like that’s changed now that you’re my neighbour.” You felt a mix of irritation and something else—something you weren’t ready to confront. “Right, because peace and quiet is exactly what you’re all about,” you said, crossing your arms again, trying to project confidence despite the flutter in your stomach. Touché,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, leaning back against the railing with easy confidence. “But hey, it’s not all bad. Maybe you just needed someone to shake things up a bit.” You roll your eyes. “Shake things up? Is that your idea of fun?” You raised an eyebrow, attempting to keep the conversation light, but the air around you thickened with tension. You could feel his gaze tracing your features, and it made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in slightly, the space between you charged with an unexpected energy that felt almost electric. “You ever think about breaking out of that ‘goody-two-shoes’ routine? Just for one night?”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, thoughts whirling as you considered the implications. “And what would you suggest? A wild night out with you?” Your tone was half-joking, but a part of you wondered what that could entail. "Cute," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "But I meant going out with your friends if you still have any, sweetheart." You stepped closer to where the railing was, feeling the cool metal against your palms as you leaned over, looking out at the sprawling city below. The morning light bathed everything in a warm glow, but your focus was entirely on Choso.

"What's that supposed to mean, asshole?" Choso feels satisfied at the sight of getting a rise out of you. He leans casually against the railing, the morning air crackling with tension. “Just calling it like I see it. You’ve got this whole perfect image to uphold, but everyone breaks eventually." You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “So, what? You think I’m just sitting around waiting for permission to have fun? I have a life, you know.” You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Right. A life filled with study sessions and early bedtimes.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter and the sound was both infuriating and oddly charming. The way he carried himself—carefree, a little reckless—made your heart thump in a way that both excited and terrified you. “What's wrong with that?” you challenged, trying to regain some control. “Not everyone wants to be reckless like you, Kamo.”

"'Fun' doesn't just mean trouble and recklessness. It's really upsetting how you and many others look at it like that," he countered, causing you to run out of excuses. "I'm perfectly happy with where I'm at right now so what are you trying to do, hm? What's the scheme here?" Choso crossed his arms, the front pieces of his hair flowing with the wind slightly in a way that made your stomach do a flip. "There is no scheme here. And since you're getting so defensive, I'll back off. Goodbye, Ms. Neighbor." He took a step back, sliding the door closed behind him with a finality that left you standing there, breathless. The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against your chest as you turned back to the view, the city sprawling below you, full of life and possibility.

Frustration bubbled up within you, mingled with an unexpected yearning. Did he really think he knew you? Your routine? The familiar comforts of studying and early bedtimes were just that—comforts. But the way he challenged you made you wonder if you were missing out on something.

You stared at the door he had just closed, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Maybe he had a point. The thought of breaking free, even just for a night, sent a thrill through you. But the idea was terrifying. As you stood there, you felt the urge to retreat back into your safe little world, but the thrill of possibility tugged at you. What if you did reach out to your friends? What if you let loose for one night? The thought of laughter, music, and dancing sent a shiver down your spine.

With a deep breath, you stepped back inside your apartment, heart racing. Maybe it was time to shake things up. A wild night didn’t sound so bad after all. You glanced back at the door, a spark of rebellion igniting within you. Perhaps it was time to see what life could be like beyond the confines of your routine. You pick up your phone and dial Shoko's number. After a few rings and a wave of anxiety washing over you, she picks up. "Do you wanna go out to the bar tonight?"

10:45 PM.

You walk into a local bar, Shoko standing by your side. "Are you sure? I get that you're trying something new but you hate everything that's sloppy. And a guy is literally over there making out with a woman and pressing up on her. Gosh... they need to take it somewhere private soon." Shoko's suggestion sounded like heaven to you right now. The apartment building was calling your name and you felt a rush of regret hitting you in the face. "I'll be fine. It's only a night anyways." You glimpse around the bar and see a familiar set of eyes latched onto yours. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Shoko looks into the direction your eyes were latched on after hearing your question. There standing was Choso Kamo. As you stood frozen, the air between you and Choso felt electric, charged with all the unspoken words and unresolved tension from earlier.

Shoko sighed and shook her head, "You have fun with that. I'm gonna go get some drinks." You nodded and she disappeared to the bar. Choso walked towards you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black zip-up hoodie. He smirked, that infuriatingly charming smile playing on his lips as he moved closer, the crowd around you seeming to disappear. “What a coincidence, huh?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.” Your lips pursed. “Right,” you shot back, your irritation flaring. “Just because I’m trying to have a night out doesn’t mean I’m okay with your... little show here.” You gestured vaguely at the bar scene, and his gaze narrowed slightly, the challenge sparking in his eyes. “Little show?” he echoed, leaning in a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You mean the one you were just about to join? Seems like I actually got to you, hm? You're gonna have more fun here than you think.” Choso's tall figure towered over you, he watched as you avoided eye contact with him. “Fun?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “This isn’t gonna be anywhere close to fun. This is a disaster waiting to happen. Look at that guy over there—making out with a total stranger like he’s in a bad rom-com.” You nod your head towards the couple Shoko pointed out earlier. Choso moved his eyes towards them and then back at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. "Jealous?" he teases. "Of what?" He leans down, his mouth right beside your ear. "That she's actually kissing someone. I mean, you're so pent up all the time... It's almost obvious that you're not getting enough action. I almost feel bad." He pulled back away from you. "Tell me, sweetheart, how long has it been?"

"You- That's none of your business." He chuckles, "There's no need to be ashamed. I can offer some help, I'm quite the catch after all." Your cheeks flushed a slight red and he didn't need to see. You couldn't let him see. “Please,” you rolled your eyes, but your heart raced beneath your carefully constructed facade. “You’re more of a distraction than anything. You think you can charm your way through life and not get called out for it?” Your fists were clenched, wondering how much longer Shoko's gonna take with those drinks. “Maybe I like a little mess now and then.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, his voice dipping into a low, teasing tone. “Not everyone wants to play it safe. Not someone like you.”

“What's someone like me supposed to mean?” You took a half-step back, an instinctual move to reclaim your space, but it felt like a losing battle. “Someone who hides behind her books and schedules,” he said, his gaze piercing into yours, unrelenting and intense. It felt like he was peeling away layers you’d meticulously constructed, leaving you exposed. “You appear to be afraid of a rush, but I can see it. You crave it.” Your eyes slightly widened, “Stop pretending you know me,” you shot back, your pulse quickening with irritation and something deeper—something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite understand. “You don’t have a clue what goes on in my head.” He leaned in closer, the air thickening between you. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

The noise of the bar faded, replaced by the rapid beating of your heart. “But if you think you can just dismiss me, then maybe you’re the one who’s scared.” Your breath caught, the heat between you palpable and electric. “Scared? Of you? Don’t flatter yourself.” A smirk tugged on his lips. “Not flattery, just observation,” he replied. “But maybe you should be scared. I might just get you to do something reckless tonight.” You shook your head. “Reckless?” you echoed, your voice laced with a mix of annoyance and a flutter of excitement. “You think I’m just going to drop everything and follow you into chaos?”

“Why not? You’re already here.” His voice was smooth and seductive, the challenge hanging in the air like a promise. As he stepped even closer, the world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The offer was tempting. Too tempting for your liking. You purse your lips, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he sees you considering it. "C'mon, you know you want to." You nod your head, "Fine."

TBC...

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anotherworldawaitsus · 4 days ago

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The Girl Next Door

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down.

Chapter: 1/10 (The Party)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Drinking and drugs, adorable banter

____________________

Chapter 1

Melissa’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what had woken her up. Then the unpleasant thump of bass resumed and she growled, kicking the tangle of sheets off her legs as she reached for the alarm clock on her bedside table.

“12:30 in the morning,” she muttered. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Groping around in the darkness, she pulled on a pair of faded Levi’s and an oversized sweatshirt. Stumbling through the living room, she pressed her eye to the peephole and confirmed the coast was clear before unlocking the door and stepping out into the hall.

The unit directly across from hers was decorated in streamers and hand-drawn posters. The biggest one read “Welcome Home, Hotshot!” in black sharpie. Balling up her fist, Melissa pounded three times on the door.

You were standing in the middle of your new kitchen, just cracking open another beer when you heard a dull thump-thump-thump at the door. The counter was littered with half-empty liquor bottles, solo cups, and melting bags of ice.

“Can somebody get that?” you called over the crowd, tossing the bottle cap in the sink. “It’s probably the pizza.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and then pressed the cool bottle to your forehead, enjoying the relief against your flushed skin. Between moving back to the states, signing your lease, and successfully begging your old boss for a job, you were running on fumes.

A few moments later, Boone appeared at your side. His eyes were red and he had a spliff perched between his lips.

“There’s a woman at the door asking to speak to the owner of the apartment,” he said, pouring a shot of Jameson. “She seemed pretty pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, plucking the shabby little cigarette from his mouth and taking a quick drag before stubbing it out. “You can’t smoke in here,” you told him.

Boone snorted. “Copy that.”

You grabbed another beer from the fridge. Then, stepping over a pile of half-unpacked cardboard boxes, you shuffled around the edge of the packed party and down the short foyer.

One look at the redhead on your doorstep confirmed that she was definitely pissed. But your friend had failed to mention that she was also gorgeous, especially with her long hair tangled from sleep. Your eyes were drawn down to her pink lips, a flirtatious impulse suddenly overtaking you.

“You’re way too hot to be the pizza delivery guy.”

For a moment, you thought she might laugh. A series of emotions danced across her face—surprise, suspicion, disgust. Then she landed on outrage.

“‘Scuse me?”

You winced, scrubbing a hand over your face and blinking hard.

“Sorry,” you said, suddenly wishing the floor would swallow you whole. “I’m very jet lagged. And a little drunk.”

You stepped out in the hall properly.

“Let’s start over,” you said with an apologetic smile. “I’m guessing you’re one of my new neighbors?”

She didn’t smile back. “Ya guess right.”

Her low, raspy voice sent a pleasant shiver down your back. You popped the top of the beer and offered it to her. “Want to come in? We’ve got food on the way and plenty to drink.”

Melissa placed a hand on her hip, fixing you with an incredulous look. Twenty years ago, an invite from a pretty thing like you—tall, tan, with a tipsy glow on your face—might have been enough to tempt her inside.

“Turn down your shitty music,” she said bluntly. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

You laughed and she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Did I say somethin’ funny?”

“No, no,” you hastened to explain. “It’s just…it is shitty music, isn’t it? Some Polish guy in on the aux and his playlist is a bunch of electronic house trance...”

You trailed off, distracted by the adorable frown on her face. She gave you one last puzzled look before starting to turn away.

“Wait—” you stepped forward hastily, stumbling a bit, not eager to let this woman out of your sight. She was like a firecracker, short fuse just begging to be lit. And you had a thing for danger.

Melissa rounded on you.

“Did I not make myself clear, hotshot?” Her eyes flickered to the shabby poster over your shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “Some of us got work in the mornin’.”

She noticed the furious blush that rose in your face.

“That’s a nickname,” you mumbled, before setting the beers on the floor and introducing yourself properly. Your outstretched hand hung in the air between you for a few seconds until she gripped it briefly. Her skin was soft, warm.

“I just moved back to Philly,” you explained. “I’ve been living abroad for a couple years.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your whole life story, kid.”

“Sorry,” you smiled, charmed by her prickliness. “Guess I’m a little rusty at making small talk.”

“Well ya got about a hundred people in there to practice on,” she said, flicking a tired hand toward your apartment.

You chuckled. “Ironically, I’m not so great at crowds,” you admitted, rubbing your neck awkwardly. “Sort of why I went AWOL in the first place.”

Melissa paused. All your bravado from a few seconds before seemed to slip away. She noticed the shadows under your eyes, the shy way you were smiling at her. Maybe she had been a little too harsh.

Then a particularly loud song crescendoed inside the apartment behind you, and she snapped out of it.

“See, you’re doin’ that whole life story thing again, hon,” she said, dropping your hand. “Tell those jabronis to pack up the DJ booth.”

She was about to disappear inside her apartment.

“Your sweater’s on backwards,” you called.

Melissa stilled, hovering on the threshold. Her back was turned, so you missed the small smile that hooked to the side of her face.

“Go to bed, hotshot,” she said, with none of her previous venom.

Then she was gone.

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #Melissa schemmenti x original character #abbott elementary

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moonmunson · 17 days ago

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just breathe

anon asked: can you write a wally fic where the reader has like an anxiety attack or starts freaking out bc her parents come to get her things from the school and he calms her down?

a/n: ty for the request! this might be a little different than what you asked for, but i have a similar scene in the other wally fic in my masterlist!

cw: descriptions of grief, angst, hurt/comfort, detailed panic attack

wc: 1.3k

You weren't expecting to see your parents today.

Knowing they'd have to come to the school to claim your belongings was one thing, but actually seeing it happen? Nothing could've prepared you for it, not really. Wally had attempted to, recounting his reaction the first time he'd seen his parents after his own death.

He'd said the worst part is them not being able to hear you. Not being able to manipulate the objects around you - to give them a sign that you're with them, that all things considered you feel okay. To be stuck here, unable to quell their fear, or to lessen their grief.

You thought you wouldn't have to worry about it for a little while longer. The impromptu memorial surrounding your locker - flowers littering the floor along with notes of condolences pasted to the metal - had served as a reminder of what happened, but you'd been avoiding it.

The universe has a sick sense of humor, waiting for the day you're walking down the hallway with Wally near your locker, to send you careening. You almost don't recognize them, your parents. Your mother stands stock-still holding a cardboard box, dressed in casual clothing rather than her usual business attire. Your father, gingerly placing textbooks and notebooks into the box, looks like he hasn't slept in weeks.

They communicate as they always have, with sidelong glances and the raises of their brows. They've never needed words, and something twinges in your gut. You're almost thankful for it - their silence - because you don't know if you could handle hearing them speak. It's your mom's laugh, upon seeing the carton of cigarettes you'd hidden in the back of your locker, that breaks you.

The urge to run, to hide, to get away from here is overwhelming. But Wally is holding your hand, grounding you to the spot you're standing in. He's silent - his usual demeanor quieted for a moment. You can feel his gaze on your face, monitoring you to try and figure out what you might need from him.

You take a step forward, dragging Wally with you toward your parents. You rethink it for a moment when you open your mouth to speak, turning to Wally for reassurance. He nods, encouraging you to say something.

"Hey, guys," your parents make no moves, no acknowledgement of your presence. It stings worse than you thought it would, "I love you, and I, I-" your throat feels too tight. It's too warm in the hallway, Wally's hand is clammy in yours, and you can't breathe.

You backtrack, dropping Wally's hand in the process. You can't do this. You can't talk to them, you can't pretend like they can hear you. It's fucking pointless. You're dead. Oh fuck, you're actually dead and you will be forever, and there's no escape, no peace.

The hyperventilation isn't satisfying in the way it was when you were alive. There's no heartbeat to beat out of your chest, no blood rushing into your ears to muffle the noises around you.

When you'd first been getting used to being dead, the lack of a heartbeat was so disconcerting. Like static noise that never leaves, you'd gotten so used to your heartbeat that not having one felt like something important had been taken from you. Now, you'd give anything to feel it again.

“I can’t - I can’t,” you stutter over your own words, fighting to get them out of your mouth, “I can’t do this, I-” your eyes are flitting around wildly, lids blinking rapidly and unable to stay still for longer than a second. The tears come soon after, big and hot and streaming down your face.

Wally’s gaze is burning a hole into the side of your face, the way he’s staring at you. You don’t look at him, you can’t, because you know all you’ll see is pity. Cloying, suffocating pity. When he attempts to put a hand on your shoulder, you shrug it off harder than you mean to, biting out a “Don’t.” in his general direction.

You take off, speed walking down the hallway. The passing glance you direct towards your parents only makes you cry harder - the thoughts bouncing around in your brain relentless and unceasing. You just need a minute, just a single fucking second on your own to freak out. To ugly cry without having to worry about anyone seeing you, especially Wally. You’ll feel bad about the way you reacted to his kindness later, when your breathing has evened out and the phantom limb that used to be your heartbeat returns to normal.

-- -- -- -- --

Wally, for the most part, does try to leave you alone. You’re hiding out on the floor of the girl’s bathroom in the auditorium, and he’s never been the best at controlling the weight of his footsteps. You can hear him pacing out there, muttering to himself, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something. Enough time has passed for you to find it endearing more than anything else, and what’s more is his noise of surprise when you call out to him.

“Are you gonna come in or are you gonna spend the rest of the day pacing out there?”

“Are you sure?” You can’t tell if his question is in regards to you wanting his company or his presence in the girl’s bathroom, but either way the answer is yes. The door creaks open slowly, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind. When you don’t say anything else, Wally comes in and sits down next to you on the cold tile flooring.

His body is warm next to yours, shoulders brushing and criss-crossed knees knocking into each other. He breaks the silence first, a soft, “I am so sorry.” leaving his lips. It makes you want to cry again, but the tears won’t come again for a while, numbness winning out over the overwhelming grief you’d felt half an hour before.

"I'm sorry if I was mean to you. I know you were trying to be there for me, I just -" Your gaze is directed at your lap, hands running over your legs in an attempt to soothe yourself. Wally grabs one of them, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles there.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he says, shaking his head when you go to respond, "I mean it, I promise. You tried, y/n. That's what matters."

"I could've tried harder. I know it wouldn't have done anything, they wouldn't have been able to hear me, but I just couldn't do it. Looking at them made me feel sick. And I ran away from you, and I'm sorry."

Wally gathers you into his arms, wrapping himself around your body and holding you to his chest, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. He couldn't ever be suffocating, and you feel horribly for thinking of him that way.

"I'll always come looking for you, you know that," he coos, before kissing the top of your head, "I'm always gonna be here. Like, literally. We can't leave school grounds, so-"

"Too soon, Wally," you giggle, spirits lifted by the shitty joke he made, "Thank you, though. I'll always be there for you too."

You don't know how long you stay there on the bathroom floor with him, in his arms and exhausted from your emotional outburst. It doesn't really matter anyways. You've got all the time in the world.

a/n: i haven't actively written in such a long time, i feel so rusty. hopefully this isn't too hard to read, i tried my best 😭

if you liked this story and want to read more, send me a request! even if you just wanna chat about wally pls pls pls send me asks, i need more wally lover friends. i also have one other wally story currently in my masterlist which is linked in my bio. please like and reblog or drop a fun comment

#wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you #wally clark fanfiction #school spirits #wally clark imagine

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