#and i’ve been meaning to tell you that i think your house is haunted your dad is always mad and that must be why | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 30 days ago

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wicked influence

Poly!Ghostface x fem!reader

a/n: I’ve wanted to write for Scream for forever and have never gotten around to it. Well, it’s slasher season baby! I finally have my reason. (When I tell you that this movie was my sexual awakening as a child, I mean it. That’s not necessarily good, but it’s true. )

Summary: Visiting a Halloween carnival with your two best friends doesn’t seem that bad until you reach the haunted house. You’ve never been able to explain your fear of demons to anyone before, you have no idea where it comes from. But you do know, going into a hell themed house with teenagers screaming shitty Latin at you is one of your worst nightmares. You think everything’s okay until, suddenly, your nights are filled with visits from a strange shadowy entity and you don’t recognize the look in Stu’s eyes anymore. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Hey! Demons are a perfectly rational thing to be afraid of.”

Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, nudging you further toward the haunted house. “Alright, alright, would you calm down and just move it.” You stare into the gaping jaw of the devil that serves as the entrance to the house. You know this is all just a way for people to make a quick buck.

There’s not going to be anything in there except teenage actors and shitty SFX makeup. But that doesn’t make the looming doorway any less menacing. It doesn’t make your heart stop racing or your breathing any easier.

Billy frowns as some people shove past you all, tired of waiting for you to move inside. They cut the line and you can’t help but be grateful. Your nails dig into your palms until you feel the warmth of blood and have to swallow down bile.

Stu and Billy both lean towards you, varying looks of confusion on their faces. “Holy shit,” a grin breaks out on Stu’s face and he smiles widely at you. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” He pokes you like you might be a statue, unmoving and solemn.

You stumble back and are effectively broken out of your terrified stupor. You swat at Stu’s wandering hands and glare at him. “Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But in your anxious state, it all comes out as one jumbled mess.

Billy lets out a disappointed sigh and gives you a funny look. “Alright, let’s just go. You’re not going in and it’s stupid to just stand out here all night.” Stu opens his mouth to argue but Billy shoots him a sharp look. You hate how sensitive they think you are. You can handle one stupid fucking haunted house. You’re not completely useless.

Still, you practically gulp as the Devil’s eyes bore into yours. You feel like your soul is being sucked out through your feet, leaving you startlingly cold. “I,” you clear your throat, waiting until it feels strong enough to speak. “I can do this,” you grit out, sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself more than them.

Stuf lets out a brief chuckle and Billy throws his elbow into his gut. Stu doubles over dramatically and you can’t help but laugh a little. Billy gives you a raised brow and you nod your head. “I just need a little nudge,” you mutter, glancing back at the house.

Stu grins and creeps behind you. “I got you babes,” he tells you in a ridiculous voice. You barely have a second to process what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and practically tossing you inside. Immediately, there’s a fake chainsaw in your face and a screaming Bubba Sawyer. You stumble back with a gasp, falling into Stu’s open arms.

“How’s that for a nudge?” Billy mutters as he brushes past you. You grab onto the back of his shirt and follow behind him. He glances over his shoulder at you with a knowing smirk and continues forward. None of the scares get him, but they get you.

The actors catch onto that. They also catch onto how fake and dramatic Stu is. Half of them target you for a good scream and the other half avoid you because of how obnoxious he’s being. You can already tell how bored BIlly is. There’s not enough gore in here for him.

He needs more blood splatter and fresh corpses, while you’re pleasantly surprised by the contents of the house. You’d really been dreading the demonic themes, but it seems like that’s not a huge factor. So far it’s just a few overzealous teens and some spiders on a string.

Sure, it’s still scaring the bejeezus out of you. But there’s a difference between a quick scream and a deeply rooted phobia.

You don’t know when this supernatural fear of yours began. Maybe your parents let you traumatize yourself with the crucifix scene in The Exorcist too young. But you know it’s been with you nearly your entire life.

You think you’re safe, that you can just relax and let yourself have fun, then you reach the final door. The lights are flickering so hard you think you might have a seizure, but you can see enough to know what’s before you. A red, rotted door, with three upside-down nines barely hanging onto it.

“Oh god,” you whisper and you think the boys can’t hear you. But then you feel Stu’s hands suddenly clamping around your neck and you leap into Billy with a shrill scream. Billy flinches away from the noise, turning to glare at you.

Stu doubles over, laughing his ass off at your expense and grinning wildly at you. “Jesus, we’re not even in there yet. What is wrong with you?” He says it like a joke but you can hear the truth of it lingering. It stings, the slight cruelty in his tone.

There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of something. Fear is healthy. The absence of fear is idiocy. You shove past Billy and turn to Stu with a mean glare. “I’m going to go in here and when I get out, I’m fucking leaving you.”

You shove the door open and take a step inside. You put on a brave face for about five seconds before you turn to see if they’ll follow you. You see just a glimpse of them before the door creaks closed. Billy is leaning against the wall, watching you with a half-amused expression. But Stu looks odd.

That doesn’t even seem like the right word. His face is completely devoid of any emotion. He looks expressionless and you’ve never seen Stu like that before. Whether it’s for good reason or not, he’s always making a face. Right now, you don’t even recognize him. Were it not for the outfit he was wearing you would think someone else had snuck up behind Billy.

The door is closed before you can call out to him and you find yourself plunged in complete darkness. There’s no noise for a long few moments. You can’t tell which way is the door and which is the exit.

At first, you worry you went in the wrong direction and entered an empty part of the house. A sudden cackle breaks through the air, and you leap forward, stumbling into the wall. You can already feel your heart beginning to race. Even though you can hear the static of a speaker and you know, deep down, that it's fake, you’re frozen in fear.

There’s a brief flash of light, just enough for you to see torn wallpaper and upside-down crosses. And something standing in the corner. “All alone?” A voice rasps and you whimper, pressing yourself up against the wall. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed, it’s too dark to know. You hope they’re closed. Whatever’s about to happen is going to traumatize you, you just know it.

A door creaks behind you just as the lights begin flickering on and off. Through brief flashes of illumination, you see something running towards you. They’re screaming Latin at you, water hits your face and you begin screaming uncontrollably. Footsteps pound towards you, egging on the racing beat of your heart.

A jarring grip lands on your shoulder and you swing out wildly. Your fist connects with something hard and you hiss in pain. There’s a brief pause where the only thing you can hear is your panting.

“Ow!” Someone snaps, an irritated raspy voice. The lights flick on and you squint against the sudden glare, blinking rapidly to try and lessen the burn on your eyes.

Billy and Stu stand on either side of you, astonished looks on both of their faces. A teenage boy in a shitty priest costume and red face paint stands before you. He’s rubbing his eye and cussing at you. “You fucking punched me!”

“You ran at me!” You yell back immediately, glaring at the little asshole. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me.”

He glares at you through one eye and points to Stu and Billy. “I didn’t!” He shouts and you flinch back, grimacing. “Your fucking friend did.” You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Both you and Billy turn slowly towards Stu. His face is as red as the kid’s as he struggles to contain his laughter.

“Unbelievable!” You snap at him, slapping his shoulder roughly. He jolts, narrowing his eyes down at you.

“Hey!” He protests, “I was joking around. You’re the one that punched him.” He points the blame to you and you can’t argue. You did, technically, punch him. But it’s Stu’s fault. If he hadn’t snuck up on you, you would have just kept on screaming. You never would have touched the kid.

In awkward silence, you walk the boy out of the haunted house and buy him a cold drink to press against his steadily swelling eye. You can see purple shining through the fading paint and grimace. He throws himself down on a wooden picnic table and sighs forlornly.

“Thanks a lot, lady,” he mutters bitterly. Stu’s lips twitch as he watches the kid tug at his costume. You glare up at him and shove him away. He stumbles behind the table shooting you a sharp glare. You’re taken aback by the look.

It’s not like you’ve never gotten a little pushy with him before. His love language was manhandling. But the look on his face is unrecognizable. You’d thought you’d imagined it earlier, how off he had seemed. But it’s not fake now. You’re looking it clearly in the eye and you can’t deny the truth of it.

“I’m gonna sue,” the kid grumbles and you’re snapped out of your stare-off. You try and shake off the chilling feeling of unfamiliarity but it’s nearly impossible. You’re still wound up from the haunted house, you’re sure you’re just imagining things.

Billy shoves his shoulder and the kid falls back onto the table. “You’re not suing.”

He puffs his chest up and glares at Billy, “I could.”

Billy places his hand on the table, leaning in on the kid’s space until he’s flinching back. You avert your eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden display of dominance. Yet, you don’t stop him from bullying the kid out of a lawsuit. “You won’t,” Billy tells him, a clear threat.

The kid gives a shaky nod of his head, but Billy still doesn’t let up. There’s a slight curl of malice to his lips, you glance over to Stu for support. His attention is rapt upon Billy, something like hunger in his eyes. You feel like you’re watching two lions corner a gazelle, you can practically see the boy’s hands trembling from fear.

“Alright,” you clear your throat and tug Billy back by the shirt. He resists you at first and you know he only backs off because he wants to. It’s not for you. You look at the boy and give him a weak smile, “I really am sorry,” you can hear Stu laughing behind him and roll your eyes. The kid takes the drink off his eye and glares at you.

“Yeah, whatever lady. Why don’t you take a valium or something and chill the hell out?” He gets off the bench and brushes past you, shaking his head. You glance down at your fist and hiss at the pain shooting along your fingers. The skin of your knuckles is split and aching from hitting him.

Billy huffs out a laugh and takes your hand in his. “Really got him, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you argue petulantly.

Stu finally collects himself and rejoins you both, throwing his gangly body on the wooden picnic table. “Why don’t you tell his face that?” He practically snorts, looking down at your hand and then laughing all over again. It’s really not that funny. Even Billy looks confused by his boisterous nature.

He’s a dick, but this is a lot. You and Billy exchange a confused glance before looking back at Stu. But he’s silent now, already staring back at you both. Again, chills go up and down your arms at the empty look in his eyes. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are devoid of anything.

“Maybe we should just go home.” You suggest, trying to keep the suspicion out of your tone. “Carnival’s a bust,” Billy exchanges one last look with you before nodding.

“We still doing movies at Stu’s?” You desperately want to say no. Right now, all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. Earlier, with them and the kid, that’s normal. They’ve always had a bit of a mean streak when it comes to people weaker than them.

The way his eyes are boring into you right now is anything but normal. You’ve never felt quite so uncomfortable near him, but you can’t ignore the feeling. Every primal instinct of survival is screaming at you to run, but you can’t. You can’t say no. All you do is nod, tongue glued to the roof of your mouth. Stu’s eyes brighten slightly at your words, but it’s still nothing compared to how it should be.

You get ahead of Billy, not wanting to walk next to Stu. All you need is a good night’s sleep and you’ll be over this whole thing. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of too many eyes lingering on you as you make the trek to the car. The wet straw beneath your feet swallows the sounds of your steps and you try not to be discomforted by the quiet. It’s a carnival, where did all the people go?

The black-and-white static of the TV is the only thing to illuminate the room. It shines upon your face, makes it so you can only see in that square of light. You assume Billy is on the ground, passed out. And Stu is probably curled up in the overstuffed armchair.

Yet, you can’t look. As much as you try to crane your neck, try and find some comfort in their presence, you can’t move. Your body is pinned down by a weight you can’t see, only feel. This isn’t sleep paralysis. It’s like being held down by someone stronger and bigger than you.

You have no control over your body. You have no control over anything. Your breathing kicks up, coming in short panicked bursts. Your eyes roll around wildly, trying to find something, anything, to focus on.

You find yourself depressingly devoid of any distractions. Until a shadow creeps along the ceiling. At first, you think it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you. Like when you stare at one spot in the dark for too long and start to see impossible shapes.

But this is different. No matter how many times you blink or look away, it keeps moving. You whimper as it crawls over you. It dangles from the ceiling. You see nothing, only feel its eyes on you. There is no clear shape lurking within it, just malevolent malice.

It drops down behind the arm of the couch and you open your mouth to scream, hoping to wake one of the boys. Nothing comes out but a strangled gasp of air. You struggle for noise but the more you try, the harder you find it to bring air in.

Your eyes swim as you go lightheaded. You almost miss the tendrils creeping over the fabric of the couch. You almost don’t see it covering your feet. You wish you had missed it. You wish you just closed your eyes and never opened them again. But it’s like something is keeping those pried open too.

You can’t feel your legs. That’s the weight. It’s not someone holding you down. Your body is completely limp. It’s as though your bones were replaced with metal, you’re sinking so far into the cushions they’re rising around you. Even your fingers are too heavy to twitch.

You begin to feel it in your head, a sudden sinking feeling as it tips further and further back. Soon, you can only watch the shadow through your peripheral. Cold terror washes over you and fills your veins with something ill.

It covers your legs like a veil, slithering on them. Your thighs shoot apart and the blanket goes flying across the room. You can only let out a choked whimper as it dives between your parted limbs.

You shoot up with a gasp, sunlight peers through Stu’s living room windows, filling the room with much-needed warmth. You glance down, fisting the blanket and tugging it up to your chest in relief. Your heart is still racing and there’s sweat caked along your neck. But you can move your body freely again. It must have just been an awful nightmare.

You glance to the side and nearly scream. Stu lounges in the armchair, Billy’s still asleep on the ground. Stu stares right at you, empty eyes, wide smile. “Good dream?” he inquires, but the tone of his voice tells you he already knows the answer.

You swallow, fighting the sandpaper feeling of your throat and shaking your head. “No,” you croak, afraid to speak much louder than a whisper.

His smile widens and you feel your head feeling heavy again. “I love a good nightmare,” he admits, like it’s an awful secret. He leans back in the chair and turns towards the TV, mindlessly flicking through the channels.

With his gaze off you, you glance down and pull the waistband of your shorts down. You swallow down your tears and bile. Your underwear, like you feared, is gone. You glance towards Stu and narrow your eyes at the back of his head. You have an idea who took them.

Your parents are out of town for the week. Normally that means Billy and Stu infesting your home like pests. They’re being oddly evasive when you call, though. Not that you’re complaining. You haven’t been interested in being around Stu since the carnival.

He makes you feel unsafe. As much of a dick as he could be, never, have you ever feared him before. But you do now. You’re terrified of him. Even thinking about him makes you want to get up and check your closets for unwanted intruders.

However, as much as his absence is a relief, it brings with it its own problems. Nothing with Stu can ever be easy, can it?

You keep having the same nightmare. Except each night it gets closer and closer. You feel more of it than you ever want to. They’re turning into uncomfortably sexual dreams. You wake up wet and without any underwear. You can’t blame Stu for that when he’s not even in your house, though. Which leaves you fucking petrified when you wake up.

Because you know, deep down, you know someone wasn’t in your house. Something was, though. A heavy presence lingers over you during the day and makes you terrified to walk around the open spaces of your home. You’d lock yourself in your room all week if you could, but even that doesn’t feel safe.

The door slams behind you and you jolt forward with a scream. You stare at your backdoor with a horrified expression, glaring at it like it might start talking and reveal its secrets. Your house is old, there’s nothing odd about doors occasionally closing on your own.

Except, that hadn’t been open. You’ve kept it firmly locked all week, terrified of a possible home invasion. You need to stop watching scary movies on your own.

You pull your knees into your chest, staring at your door until you’re satisfied it’s not going to slam shut again. Slowly, you turn back towards your TV and keep watching the only good sitcom you could find at this time of night.

The second you let yourself get comfortable, however, you hear your bedroom door upstairs slam shut, followed quickly by rushing footsteps. Your eyes widen in terror and you mute your TV, glaring up at the ceiling and hoping you just imagined it.

Footsteps behind you, running across the linoleum. You whip around, nearly shrieking when you spot something black darting into your pantry closet. You scramble for the phone beside you. You slam 911 into the keypad and press it against your ear, keeping your eyes riveted on the pantry closet.

There’s a steady beep on the other end. The line’s dead. Someone cut your phone line. That’s okay. You can work with that. You can beat something real, but you’ve got no hope against something otherworldly.

You stand slowly, unmuting the TV so the laugh track will cover your movements better. You creep towards your linen closet, reaching for the bat your dad keeps in there for this very reason. He’s got different weapons placed all over the house and you blame him for some of your paranoia. But right now, you’re eternally grateful for the protection it’s providing you.

You slip into the kitchen, sliding quietly across the tiles on your socks. You position yourself behind the pantry door, your hand shaking as you reach for the handle. Just as you rip it open, the lights go out.

You scream wildly, waving the bat around with as much force as you can, hoping to just hit something solid. Glass crashes against the floor and you feel the bat connecting with something. The lights flip back on and your mother’s vase is shattered along the ground. There’s no sign of the intruder and you think you might throw up when you hear more footsteps upstairs, two sets this time.

But then someone darts through the living room, another flash of black before they’re gone. Three? How are you supposed to handle three?

Something titters behind you, bordering on a giggle, and you whip around, bat waving through the air recklessly. No one was there, no sign anyone was. And there’s no possible way for you to have missed them running past you. There’s nowhere to go or hide.

You think of the shadow you’ve seen in the closet and the lights flicker like they’re agreeing with you. The thing that’s been haunting your nightmares, it’s in the house with you. The lights flicker again and your stomach drops to the floor. Your heart is in your throat as you hear your voice chanted from upstairs.

It’s like staring at the Devil’s eyes at the circus again. You feel like there’s something being taken from you. You feel cold, empty, like you’re missing something you need. Something’s toying with you. Making you it’s twisted little plaything.

You can feel the tears clawing their way up your throat. The call of your voice gets louder and louder until it feels like it's being screamed straight into your ears. You want to run, want to fight, want to do anything but stand here and you can’t.

You can’t move. It’s just like your dreams. Your bones are metal and you are stuck. There’s a rough shove to your back, though you don’t feel physical hands on you. And then someone’s moving you, your legs are puppeteered as you’re directed up the stairs.

You stub your toes on every step, crawling up them like a child learning to use them for the first time. Every time you slow down or try and stop, you’re dragged forward again. Your bedroom door creaks open and warmth carves its way down your cheeks.

You stumble inside, the bat thudding to the floor as your hand goes limp around the handle. You want to call out to the entity, but your jaw is wired shut. You stand in the middle of your room, sobbing and terrified and completely alone.

Your closet door slowly creaks open and you brace yourself for the worst. Billy comes flying out, shouting nonsense at you as you scream until your throat feels bloody. Stu follows behind him, ripping off his stupid mask and giving you a wide-eyed look.

You crumple to the floor, covering your head and crying as you come down from the fear that you are being haunted. Stu kneels before you, hands gentle as they take your arms away from your head.

He looks like Stu now. He looks like the boy you grew up with. His eyes are full of worry as he pushes wet strands of hair off your cheeks. “Hey, hey, alright,” he tugs you into his chest and you throw your arms around him wildly. You cling tightly to him, taking in heaving breaths and trying to find some comfort from his touch.

“You fucking dicks,” you sob into his sweater. “I thought I was going to die.”

Billy scoffs as he stares awkwardly behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters bluntly, “I can tell.” He watches you cry for a little while longer before he gets irritated. “Hey, this was supposed to be fun. Would you lighten up?”

You suck in a deep breath, astonishment at what he just said temporarily stopping the tears of terror. You rip yourself away from Stu, ignoring the way his hands linger. “Excuse me?” You demand, glaring up at Billy.

He shrugs, “It was just a prank, chill out.”

You scoff, taking in a sharp breath and nodding your head. “Right, no, you’re right. It’s not like my friends used my biggest fucking fear against me!” You shout, shoving him backward. He stumbles into the corner of your desk and you glare at him and Stu.

“You’re horrible fucking friends, you know that.” You storm out of your room and pause at the top of the stairs. They linger in your doorway. Stu looks like a kicked dog and Billy looks like he’s about to blow the hell up.

“I don’t even know how you guys pulled all that shit off, but fuck you.” You give them both an astonished glare before shaking your head and going back down the stairs. “I hate you,” you scream, your voice shrill and full of uncontrollable rage.

Billy almost follows after you, probably to give you a shit apology and then let everything smooth over naturally. But he stops, foot hovering over the top of the stairs. He glances back at Stu and frowns, “What the hell did you do?” Stu gives him a confused look and Billy glares. “She wasn’t supposed to be terrified for her life, fuckwad. What the hell did you do to her?”

Stu shrugs and gives him a too-wide grin and for the first time, Billy finds himself disturbed by his friend. “Magician��s secret man, cannot, will not tell.” He zips his mouth shut and tosses the key, winking at Billy. Billy gives him a disgusted scoff and follows after you. They can hear you ranting in the kitchen, slamming your drawers shut, and shouting vile insults at them.

Stu watches Billy go down the stairs, his smile slowly fading from his face. Something dark passes over Stu’s face, something wicked, something unnatural. Perhaps it was all just a trick.

Or maybe that kid’s Latin wasn’t so fake after all.

#Billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #poly!ghostface x reader #Billy loomis #stu macher #scream x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x you #slasher x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #Ghostface #Belle’s Halloween Palooza 2024

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rioromanoffroses · 9 months ago

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"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested

Warnings: 18+ content, breast sucking, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, strap-on use (R receiving), cock-sucking, vaginal sex, degrading, praising, profanity

Summary: Your husband, Steve Rogers, has been romantically and sexually starving you ever since he became an Avenger. After borrowing money from notorious crime leader, Natasha Romanoff, she breaks into your house to get what she's owed. However, when she finds you, his gorgeous wife innocently asleep next to him, you catch her interest and her plans change instantly.

Pairings: top dom!Natasha Romanoff x bottom sub!reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (nothing romantic or sexual happens)

Trigger Warnings: blood, gun wound, reference to implied SA (blink and you'll miss it).

“Y/n?” you nearly sent the plate in your hand flying to the floor, dropping it into the washing bowl before spinning around to see your husband in the doorway. You shook your head, sure that your eyes were deceiving you. He was never here even when he promised, never mind three weeks early.

“Steve,” you said, drying your hands and rushing over to him but before you could pull him into a hug, he caught a hold of your shoulders to stop you. His touch sent a stab of pain into your chest and you were snapped back to reality, falling away from the lingers of a past moment you had momentarily forgotten wasn’t your present. You straightened your figure and took a step back, looking up at the man that had once been the light of your life, a guide in the darkness, someone special to share all the good with but now, he could’ve been a stranger.

You had been married for three years, together for five and the first few years would be the most treasured moments of your life. But ever since he had become an Avenger, it had consumed his sole purpose.

Steve was always out fighting, carving his mark, making the world proud of his heroism while you stayed at home doing chores and completing mindless activities to pass the time. There was once a time where you could’ve sworn you saw Universes in his eyes. Now, his skin had been drained of colour and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were a ghost that was forever cursed to haunt his loved ones. “What are you doing here?” you quizzed.

“I’m sorry," he said, bowing his head, “I’ve got into a bit of trouble, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” You frowned.

“What trouble?” you questioned, “is there a villain after you? Can’t the Avengers help you?” You didn’t even bother hiding the bitterness in my voice. They were clearly everything he ever needed, what use were you to him? He sighed.

“Not exactly,” he said, “we should probably sit down.” You followed him into the dining room with caution in your steps, not taking your eyes off him. The walls were a fading, off-white, elaborate flowers twisted between leaves and detailed patterns, wooden panelling running along across the bottom. The light fixture in the centre was brass with three upturned light bulbs, the dining tables and chairs a polished rosewood. Steve had wanted the room like this because it reminded him of his Grandmother. It was awkward to clean and there was always a build of dust in here. You took a seat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” you said. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I know what you’re going to think but… alright I’ll just tell you. I took out a loan from someone a bit dodgy and I haven’t quite paid them back.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s ‘haven’t quite’ supposed to mean?” you said, raising your voice.

“I haven’t paid them back, okay?” he exclaimed, “look, all I wanted to do was buy you a new house, I wanted to make you happy since you hate this one so much. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to spoil my girl.” Generosity – the easiest attainable remedy for guilt.

“Well, I see something wrong with borrowing money you can’t pay back, especially from somebody that can put you and other people in danger,” you said, pushing yourself onto your feet, “what were you thinking Steve?” He slammed his fists onto the table and you jumped, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Listen, I thought I would have the money by now. It’s not my fault I can’t see into the future, you know I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I knew.” You closed your eyes, exhaling a long breath, trying to keep your composure. There were a hundred things you wanted to say to him right now but it wasn’t worth it. You either lived in peace or chaos; either way, nothing changed.

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you but they turned out to all be wrong,” you said, “so I don’t know anymore. Nothing you do surprises me.” You stormed back into the kitchen, not wanting him to waste anymore of your time. You had dishes to do and by now, the water would’ve gone cold.

“Y/n, come on. You haven’t seen me in three months and this is how you’re going to treat me?”

“I have dishes to do,” you said, picking up the plate you had dropped before, polishing it until it shone in the dim light peeking through the curtains, “someone has to keep the house clean.” And clearly, it wasn’t going to him. You felt a firm hand on my shoulder and all the muscles in your body tensed.

“I know you’re mad at me.” You scoffed. Mad wasn’t the right word – it was an array of messy emotions tangled together that had been fraying for years. There was more than just anger here, that was just an old friend that had withered and grown back into something much more cruel now. “Just please… let me make it up to you. I could die on a mission one day you know, you never know when one of these moments could be our last.” He had tried guilt tripping you before – it was a simple yet effective way of shifting blame onto the other person to ease your conscience. These games were getting so predictable.

“And I’d be the last one to know,” you said, “maybe if I was lucky, I’d see it on the news.” You placed the last plate on the drying rack, emptying the washing-up bowl before walking away to leave him standing in the kitchen, alone.

..........................................................................

You had avoided Steve as if he were the plague for the rest of the evening, only tolerating him in the same room as you when you went to give him his dinner. If you were nothing but his little housewife, you may as well play the part and poke it in his face. While you were getting ready for bed, you had paused by his chest of drawers, remembering the divorce papers you had hidden beneath the shirts he had outgrown or didn’t like anymore. Most of them had been bought by you and you could recall a memory with your husband in every single one. Maybe another day.

You couldn’t sleep but you kept your eyes tight shut when you heard him enter and move around the bedroom. Why didn’t you just sleep in the living room?, you thought as he slipped under the covers beside you. You figured he’d probably leave before you were awake so in his mind, you wouldn't even know. Dickhead. You didn’t know how much time had passed but you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you see is blinding white.

“Steve, turn the lights off…” You let out a scream when a gunshot sounded through the room, colliding with your husband’s cry of pain. Your eyes flew open and immediately fell on the figure standing at the end of your bed, her ravishing, blood-soaked hair curled onto her shoulder, her eyes glittering with shattered pieces of jade. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest. Natasha Romanoff – the most notorious leader of crime in the world. And she was here, in your bedroom.

You turned to Steve and let out a strangled sob, the sight of scarlet soaking into the bed sheets making you dizzy. You heard the click of heels behind you and Natasha took a fistful of your nightgown before you could even process what was happening, pulling you away from him as if you were a mere feather. You screamed again and if it wasn’t for her strong grip on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

She waited until you were steady enough to stand on your own two feet, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her body. She was wearing a dress that emphasised all her curves and showcased most of her skin, your body flooding with dread. This woman was able to shoot Captain America without any protective clothing like it was nothing. There was no way out of this situation. We were doomed. I felt something hard in her crotch area, confused as to why she was carrying such a bulky item in her pockets.

“Leave her alone,” Steve whispered, his voice faint and overshadowed by anguish.

“Get on the floor and don’t say another word unless I ask you a question or she’ll have to watch you die,” she snapped, “neither of us want that to happen, do we?” With resentment, he hobbled away from the bed, stumbling over to the wall and sliding himself down it, his hand clutched to the gun wound in his stomach. “Good.” She ran a finger down your cheek before beginning to trace your features, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t tell anyone you had a wife, Rogers. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You shivered in her hold, her voice low and seductive. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y-Y/n,” you trembled, wishing you could strangle the butterflies in your stomach that her touch had provoked. This was insanity – she had just shot your husband and she was threatening to murder him yet she was making you nervous, in a romantic way. God, if only Natasha wasn’t so beautiful, this would be a whole lot easier.

“Y/n Rogers?” she said, giving you a fake pout, “that doesn’t sound very nice, does it? Y/n Romanoff has a much nicer ring to it.” A crease formed between your eyebrows. What the hell was she implying? “Rogers, I’m willing to strike up a deal with you. But first, I’m going to fuck your wife until the only name she’ll remember is mine.” His eyes widened in horror and you let out a cry.

“Natasha, that’s assault. You can’t,” Steve said. She smirked.

“Oh there won’t be any need for that,” she said, “it won’t take much for her to beg me for more.” She pushed you down onto the bed and straddled your lap, a pool of wetness already forming between your legs. This was so fucked up. “Give me consent and I’ll make you feel so good baby, better than you’ve ever felt. All you have to do is say the word.”

You considered all your options but it didn’t take you long to decide since you only had two. You either let Natasha fuck you or you watched Steve die. You could treat it like a one night stand, you thought. You had never experienced one yourself but you’d read it in books so surely you would be able to do it.

Though you knew deep down, part of you wanted this. You were desperately touch starved and the thought of Natasha fucking you made you groan, heat rushing to your cheeks as the sound escape your mouth. You nodded and she gripped your jaw.

“Words bitch.”

“Yes,” you said, looking away from her in shame but she forced you to look back at her.

“Good girl,” Natasha said, lowering herself onto you and colliding her lips with yours, setting all your nerves alight. Her lips felt like velvet against your own, melting against you and setting a slow pace, letting you get used to the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time Steve had kissed you, never mind like this.

When your hand moved to her chest, she knew she’d won and she began kissing you with more passion, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasped and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between the gap in your teeth. You didn’t even bother fighting against her, wanting Natasha to take full control and use you however she pleased.

She separated your lips and began kissing your neck, her teeth ruthless against your skin as she began to mark you, leaving a trail of garnet blotches that would be seen by everyone. “Tell him how much you like this.” As much as you wished it wasn’t true, you were very much enjoying this. It was a terrible thing to admit to your husband but you had to remind yourself that his life was at stake here.

“I love it, I love being marked by you,” you said, “please don’t stop.” She pulled away when she reached your chest, reaching down and taking hold of your nightgown.

“Can I take this off angel?”

“Please,” you said, ignoring that Steve was in the same room as you. You wanted this, you needed this, you hadn’t had sex in so long. Too long. She lifted herself off your waist for a few moments so she could discard you of your nightgown before continuing her path down your chest, stopping right before she reached your breasts.

“So beautiful,” Natasha said before taking one of your nipples between her fingers and rolling it, earning her your loudest groan yet. She began to fondle the other roughly and the pain was soon replaced with pleasure that went straight in between your legs. You were a moaning mess beneath her, your forehead glistening with sweat and your breaths loud and sharp. “Listen to that, Rogers. Does she make these sweet, sweet noises for you? Do you Y/n? Tell me.”

“No,” I said, “only for you.” She tutted.

“Oh sweetheart, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you now.” She ran her hands down your stomach and attached her mouth to your hardened nipple, your mind unable to decide what to concentrate on. She slipped her fingers beneath your panties and began snapping it against your skin, causing you to start bucking your hips into her.

“I need you,” you said. You expected her to make you wait but her expression softened as she began sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them in Steve’s direction. “Look how she ruined them for me. If you weren’t so neglectful, this could’ve been you, Rogers. Don’t you ever forget that.” You gasped as the palm of her hand pressed against your cunt, brushing against your swollen clint. “So wet.”

“Natasha, please…”

“Beg,” she said, running her fingers through your folds and collecting your arousal, “let him hear you.”

“Please Natasha,” you said, “I need you to fuck me so bad. I need you inside of me, please make me cum.” Your words made her groan and you whimpered as you felt her push two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before she began thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace. You felt a burning sting, grabbing her wrist to try and slow her down. “Nat, it’s too much, it hurts.”

“What do you mean sweetie? Does he have a small cock?” There was a cruel glint in her eye when the realisation dawned on her. “He hasn’t fucked you in a longtime has he? How long has it been?” You were struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.

“Six months,” you admitted. He visited so little and he was always exhausted when he did, hardly even giving you any affection, never mind fulfilling your physical needs. You had shamefully been trying to fuck yourself for over a year now but you were either too embarrassed to keep at it for long or you were eventually forced to give up, too inexperienced to make yourself cum. You had never used more than one finger so you weren’t used to the stretch at all.

“You’re telling me your husband had access to this cunt anytime he wanted but he chose not to fuck you for half a year?” What a waste of such a perfect pussy,” she said, “shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” As if to prove her point, porn-worthy moans began to spill from your mouth as you were drowned in overwhelming bliss. She knew she had found that one spot inside of you when your noises became more intense and more wetness gushed from your entrance, the squelches of your arousal echoing around the room. You took fistfuls of the duvet beneath you in your hands, your walls began to clench around her fingers. But just before you reached your high, Natasha slipped her fingers out of you.

“No,” you cried, “I was so close.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Not just yet,” she said, “I want you to cum on my cock.” You blinked up at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. Was she perhaps intersex? “Get on your knees.” You scrambled to obey her command, your thighs glistening with white and she smirked. “Such an obedient thing. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You did so without hesitation and she lifted up her dress and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a lacey bra and boxers. Your eyes fell onto her breasts that were full and sat perfectly, wondering how they’d feel in your hands and in your mouth. You were too distracted to pay attention to Natasha pulling down her boxers until a large, red strapon sprung into your face.

You were sheltered and didn’t have many friends so your knowledge on how two women had sex was low. You had accidentally come across some brief information about strapons while scrolling through social media, closing the app immediately and uninstalling it. You had never told anyone you liked women so any mentions of the topic made you panic and run in the opposite direction. Natasha noticed your hesitation.

“It’s just like sucking a cock,” she said, “you’ve done that, right?” You shook your head. Steve was a very traditional man so you’d never done anything outside of the very basics. You had always wanted to explore more interesting options but you were too ashamed to ask or discuss any of your preferences with him. “God, so vanilla. Once I show you what you’ve been missing you’ll never want to go back. Do you want to try симпатичный (pretty)?” Her Russian Nickname for you sent a lustful thrum through your body despite the words being foreign and unknown to you. You knew there was only one correct answer to her question but you liked being able to show Natasha how much you desired to follow her orders.

“I’d love to try,” you said, “anything to please you.”

“Good girl,” she husked, nudging your mouth with the strap-on. Her other hand dug into your shoulder as she pushed it inside of your gaping mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Natasha kept going even when you started choking, tears slipping from your eyes and smearing your makeup. The sight of you, a perfect housewife she had ruined and made a mess of, only made her thrust the toy into your mouth faster, desperately turned on. When she was satisfied that you’d wet it enough, she pulled out, showing enough mercy to let you catch your breath. “You’re already such a good cock-sucker.” She ran her thumb over your plump lips. “Aren’t you glad I put these lips to good use, hmm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “thank you Natasha.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“So polite. Get on all fours and look at your husband.” You hesitated a little this time, suddenly remembering Steve’s presence. You turned around and followed her commands, your gaze meeting with his. Steve’s pupils were drowned in pain and clouded his emotions so you couldn’t identify them, blood still gushing from his gun wound.

“Natasha, I think he’s going to die,” I said, “his stomach…” She looked over and saw that he was on the verge of passing out, his blood loss now critical.

“I fear you’re right,” she said, “I thought we’d have more time with him, shame. Don’t worry милый (darling), he’ll be alright soon.” You heard footsteps thundering up the stairs before the door was flung open and several men dressed head to toe in black burst into the bedroom. You wondered how she had summoned them so quickly but you were too horny to dwell on the thought for long.

You tried to cover your exposed body, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden but Natasha slapped your hands away. “They won’t look my angel, they wouldn’t even dare. Don’t let them distract you.” You felt something prodding your entrance and you whimpered.

“Please,” you breathed as she circled your entrance with the toy, collecting your arousal.

“You’re somehow even wetter,” she cooed, “did you really love your face being fucked that much?” Before you could answer she began to push the tip inside, your soaked walls showing no resistance. She didn’t give you anytime to get used to the stretch, pulling out before slamming back into you seconds later. The pain only lasted a few moments before it dissolved into pure pleasure as Natasha pounded into you like a wild animal. You arched your bark, the dirtiest sounds you had ever produced spilling from your mouth and echoing through the room. You somehow managed to lift an arm and point it towards Steve’s shirt drawer.

“There’s divorce paper,” you strung together between gasps, “in that drawer. I already signed them.” The men followed your finger and moved towards them, aimlessly throwing Steve’s shirts onto the floor. You saw a pang of hurt in Steve’s expression but you didn’t care. He should’ve seen this coming and even if he didn’t, it was his fault anyway.

As the divorce papers and Steve were dragged away, you moved your hips in rhythm with Natasha’s to try and get the strap-on deeper into you, every brush against your walls sending electricity through your body. She gripped your hips, encouraging your movements, grunting each time you slammed back against her. Your groans changed when she found your g-spot again and after that, she made sure to keep hitting it, a knot beginning to tighten in your stomach for the second time that night.

“I need to cum,” you said, “can I this time, please?”

“Such a slut,” she said, “soak my dick baby. Go on.” You screamed her name as you released all over her cock, stars blinding your eyes as your body shook with bliss, each new wave stronger than the last. After the longest orgasm of your life, you finally finished cumming, liquid staining your thighs. But Natasha didn’t stop, moving her hands up to your ass and massaging your cheeks.

“Natasha, I’ve already cummed,” you said, expecting her to finally pull out but instead, she tutted.

“We’re not finished yet,” she said, “If I wanted to, I could have you cumming all over this cock all night. We’re done when I say we are. You are all mine after all, gorgeous.” After the initial discomfort faded away, you were soaring back up to cloud nine, ready to do whatever Natasha wanted.

“Of course,” you said, “I’m all yours now.”

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel smut #mcu x reader #mcu x you #mcu x y/n

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buuniebaby · 5 months ago

Note

your first time with hamzah 🙈🙈

THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 🎀

includes: losing your virginity, awkward sex talk, very sweet sex ! 💝

word count 3.2k purr

you’re too tired for this.

you and hamzah are becoming sleep deprived, something you usually do together: come over to each others houses, watch a movie, eat food your stomach will regret in the morning. it’s been a tradition since you guys were just friends.

even now as you’re dating, it still feels.. the same. not that you’re complaining; you love having a partner who’s also a best friend to you. it just feels like there should be some sort of change, but you can’t put your finger on it.

it’s 2 in the morning now. you and hamzah have watched about 3 shitty 2000s movies, enjoying every moment of each one. your brain feels absolutely fried, and you can only imagine his is as well.

“are you a virgin?” hamzah spoke suddenly, but also casually. a little too casually. you choke on your own spit at that, face turning red with embarrassment.

“…what?” is all you can reply back. “what- why?” you say, eyebrows furrowing at him. your voice has noticeably pitched up.

“i dunno. just tell me.” hamzah says, rolling his eyes. you hate how confident and sassy he is, but you’re also sort of attracted to it.

“you’re so weird.” you practically squeal, jokingly. you grab onto a pillow as you fall back first onto the bed. “why do you even wanna know? that’s so like, random.” you ask, more genuine this time.

“i guess,” hamzah starts, but then pauses, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“i was just kinda thinking. like, we don’t really talk about sex, ever. and we don’t have to- I don’t wanna bring it up if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just like, curious if you’d be down to talk about it.” he rambles, making up his words as he goes. you furrow your brows as he speaks, still kind of confused. you know there had to be something that started it, you just aren’t sure what.

“oh. well like,” you flush, sort of embarrassed to admit what you’re about to say. “yeah, i am.”

“a virgin?” hamzah asks, head tilting like a lost puppy.

“yes, idiot. what else would i be talking about?” you reply back sarcastically.

“you’re right, you’re right,” he banters with you. “I just- I guess I’m surprised.”

you perk back up, sitting yourself upright again.

“surprised.. that im a virgin?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“i guess.. i dunno. I just feel like you’re like, too pretty to not have found someone who wants you like that.” he rambles. you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks again, knowing he’ll always praise you for your pretty face.

“i mean, I’ve found a lot of people who want me,” you say, rolling your eyes at the thought of a particular ex. “I’m just like, picky, I guess.” your giggling as hamzah somewhat laughs with you, but you watch as his facial expression starts to falter. you know something’s on his mind.

“do you want to?” is all he mutters. again, he keeps this quiet, casual tone that you rarely see with him.

“i mean, yeah, kinda. I just like, don’t know where to start I guess.” you answer honestly. “feels like everyone’s way more experienced than i am anyways.” hamzah turns over to you, looking in the eye. you feel him think for a second, as if he doesn’t know whether he should let his thoughts out or not.

“well, I don’t really have experience either.” he mutters back, scoping for a negative reaction from you. your eyes widen a bit, and he doesn’t know if he should take your body language negatively or positively.

“you’re a virgin too?” you ask, a more shy tone than usual.

“..yeah. well I’ve done like- stuff. just like, never had sex. never had my penis like, in there, y’know-“

“you don’t need to go into detail.” is all you have to say, talking over him.

“-but i would go all the way with you.”

that’s all you remember from that night before blacking out, yet somehow the short memory haunts your mind. it’s eating you up inside, the thought of losing your virginity after so long to him.

you’ve seen all the edits and thirst traps of him online and can admit that they’ve made you feel some type of way about him - hell, you’ve touched yourself to the idea of your boyfriend too. yet for some reason, the thought of actually having sex with him was never really a priority to you. it’s not until now you’ve understood people’s cravings for sex, but god can you feel it now.

you’re making breakfast the next morning while his hands are around your waist and all you can think of is that conversation. when you help him with editing throughout the day, leaning over his shoulder, all you can think about is him having you bent over like that in a different context. you feel like you’re in a haze almost, clouded by the thought of hamzah.

“baby?” hamzah asks, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to get your attention. you perk up and face him, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

“i was just gonna ask if you wanted me to order something for lunch.” he says casually, but his face begins to fade into an expression between concerned and confused. “you okay?”

“what?!” you reply, scrambling at bit as you didn’t think he would pick up on your behavior. “im fine. what do you mean??” you question; rapidly.

“you’ve just been like, really spaced out today. i get like that, where i like dissociate sometimes when something reallyyy bad happens. so i just wanted to make sure.” he rambles a bit, genuine concern in your eyes. despite the horniness driving your body right now, you do feel a bit warmed by the way he cares for you.

“you can always talk to me if something’s up, y’know-“

“did you mean it?” you ask, staring at him blankly.

“mean… what?” he stares back at you, looking at you like you just killed a man in front of him.

“what you said last night. that you’d like- y’know..” you look down shyly, hiding in your hair as a warm blush creeps onto your face.

“that I would..?” hamzah looks at you, genuinely clueless.

“lose it to me hamzah. have sex with me. loose your virginity.” you look up at him, speaking sternly. you’re a little too pent up to take his stupidity today.

you watch as his expression changes, going from confused to something you can’t even put a name on. a mix of shocked, embarrassed, amused - but most prominently, you watch that urge crawl up into his body. you can tell in his eyes that he wants you in the same way you crave him.

“yeah.” he says, breathy. “i want that. like, now though? or like later, what are we doing-“

his words are cut off as your lips land on his. he gasps into the kiss, caught by surprise. you try and swipe your tongue against his slightly parted lips, but he pulls away before you can get it anywhere significant.

you look at him concerned after he pulls away, taking a second to breathe.

“have you like- kissed anyone before?” he asks, and you can tell he’s serious. you giggle a little.

“yes, ive kissed before.” you say, a little smile still formed on your face. “buuut..” you drag on your words to edge him on a bit.

“ive only made out with someone once, and i can already tell you’re the better kisser.” you say, slyly. he likes it when you boost his ego like this - he’s already proud of himself for pulling you, so you make him feel like some sort of greek god.

he smirks before he pulls you into another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours a lot firmer. it’s more intense this time around, a hand cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as his tongue glides inside your mouth.

you kiss until you physically can’t anymore, pulling back when you need a break for air. there’s an awkward silence before he kisses you again, putting his hands on your waist sometimes. you’re taken aback a bit as he lifts you in the air.

your immediate reaction is to hook your legs onto something, hamzah just being the nearest option, of course. your legs wrap around him, straddling his hips. you arms are grabbing onto his shoulders gently. he’s strong enough to hold you without support, but you like the physical aspect of clinging onto him like a koala.

he reaches the room, fumbling with the doorknob as he struggles to lift you at the same time. he kicks the door closed softly behind him when he eventually gets in there. he drops you in the middle of the bed, body landing gracefully.

you sit yourself up into a more comfortable position, and hamzah sits himself right next to you. it’s here when you realize how comfortable you are around him, even if you’re about to reach a life milestone you can never take back with him.

but fuck, you’re never gonna be able to take this back. the anxiety crawls back up into your brain for a second, but the feeling of hamzah’s hand on your thigh relaxes you. a single look into his eyes and you’re already reassuring yourself again. you’re not gonna want to take this back, because god, you love this boy.

“have you ever-“ hamzah pauses mid sentence, stuttering. he does this when he doesn’t know what words to use; it’s one of his mannerisms that you’ve picked up a little yourself over time. “like, felt anyone up? or like- dry hump them, I guess.” he says. you feel him cringe a bit at his own words - he gets embarrassed easily.

“not really,” you say. a smirk creeps onto your face as you have an idea. “but you could show me how.”

hamzah’s eyes widen a bit as his hand moves from your thigh to your waist. he picks you up again like it’s nothing, sitting you down on his lap. his hands massage your waist, moving up briefly past your chest. he runs at your collarbone for a minute, staring at your clothed breasts.

“can i take this off?” he asks in a low voice, toying with the fabric at your shoulders. you bite your lip as you give him a nod, and before you know it whatever garment was covering you before is gone.

“fuckkk,” is all hamzah lets out before a hand is cupping your chest, squeezing at your soft and fleshy skin. instinctively, you push your chest into his hands. you let out a soft noise as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

he’s fully hard now, and you can feel it straining against you. you can tell he’s trying to keep his hips still, not wanting to get worked up too fast.

his hands leave one side of your chest as his mouth attaches to your other nipple. you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him suckling at it. he pulls of for a second, and you can feel his hands fumbling with the fabric of your bottoms for a second.

“take this off for me?” he pleads in a sweet tone, and you can tell he’s starting to get needy. you comply, of course, leaving you in just your underwear. you don’t want to be the only one undressed though, so you shimmy his pants down a bit and get his shirt off too.

you’re left in both just underwear - a weird feeling. there’s not a lot of fabric separating your crotch and hamzah’s, so when he bucks his hips up into yours it feels good. he ducks down to kiss you again, chest pressing to yours, and god, you feel like you’re in heaven. there’s heat burning through your body as your bare skin touched his.

his hands are on your hips as you grind against him, the thin material of his boxers straining against his cock. he reaches down to rub you through your underwear, eliciting a moan as you hide his head in your shoulder.

he stops your grinding for a second, a hand trailing up your thigh. he uses it to spread your legs wide, causing you to make a small noise. he pulls your panties to the side, showing off what he’s wanted all this time.

he’s already settling lower, head balance with your hips, and now you’re nervous. it’s your first time being touched like this - probably his too, and it’s scary. you close your eyes when you feel him plant a kiss on your hip, teasing you. he continues to kiss around, even guiding a hand back up to play with your chest, but it’s not enough.

“please,” you whimper, begging for more stimulation. hamzah takes it as a sign you’re ready, and before you know it, you’re squirming again.

he presses just a single finger inside you, scoping how much you’re able to take. your stomach flips as you feel him spread you open. he adds another finger once the first one is in knuckle deep, then begins to curl them inside of you. you whimper at the feeling as his fingers excel in speed, working you open.

“hamzah- fuck.” you whine, letting out an especially sharp gasp at the feeling of his fingers hitting that spot.

“yeah?” he asks, playfully, curling his fingers to hit the same spot. your pelvis thrusts up at the movement, only motivating him to go further. his hands are so fucking big and he’s so strong when he thrusts his fingers up into you. it burns in the best way possible.

“ah- hamzah!” you squeal, squirming around. you whine when you feel him pull away from him; you were so, so close to finishing. you look up at him and whimper, a sad expression plastered across your face.

“didn’t want you to cum yet,” hamzah mutters under his breath. “not done with you.”

you flush red, his words washing over your body in a hot wave. suddenly hamzah is moving, pulling down his boxers, and god his dick is big. you can’t help but whine at how badly you want it inside you.

“so noisy.” he mumbles, lining his cock up with your folds and sliding the tip between them. you only whine more at his teasing.

“hamzahh,” you complain, eager for him to stop teasing you and just put it in.

“mhm?” he replies, edging you on. he strokes himself a bit, acts as if he’s going to put it in, but then doesn’t. he knows what he’s doing and you hate it. “need something, baby?”

he’s so mean, making you beg.

“I need it so bad, hamzah, pleeasee-“ you beg, desperate. you don’t care how humiliating it is now, you need him.

“need what, baby?” he asks, obviously only to get a reaction out of you. you sigh, but you know what you need to do.

“fuck me, hamzah. i need you - your cock.” you beg, no - demand, firmly.

hamzah doesn’t stall once he’s gotten what he wants. he’s done with the teasing, pressing his tip into you. you let out a shaky moan - it hurts a little when he slides in, like ripping off a bandaid.

“hamzah- hurts.” is all the words you can get out. his hips still inside of you, waiting for you to take a breath before he continues.

“it’s okay baby. gonna feel better once I’m all the way in.” he mutters, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding him up. he wasn’t lying - it’s painful as he slides himself into you, stretching you out, but once your hip-to-hip with him there’s a comfortable peace to the feeling.

you two lay in that position for a minute, feeling the warmth of connection between your bodies. it’s a soft, loving touch - you feel safe in his arms.

“s’okay if i move now?” he whispers to you, keeping a gentle tone. at the end of the day, he’s here to take care of you.

“yeah. thank you.” you say, genuinely grateful for his patience. you remind yourself that it’s his first time doing this too; you’re not alone in your anxiety.

you clutch onto his shoulders as he nearly pulls out, cock sliding out of you to the tip, then slams back into you.

“h-hamzah!” you whimper, clawing your nails at his back. he keeps a similar pace, thrusting into you deep. even hamzah makes a small noise at the feeling of being inside you, hips stuttering against yours. the sound of skin slapping together and breathy moans fills the room.

you wrap your arms and legs around hamzah as he continues to thrust into you, clinging to him.

“so pretty.” he says, looking down at you. “there’s a reason- fuck- i wanted to fuck you in missionary. pretty face.” he stutters, moving a hand to caress your face. you can’t say anything else but whimper at him, overstimulated from a combination of his thrusts and his words.

you feel a tight feeling build in your stomach, almost like a coil nearing its breaking point. you clench around him, legs beginning to shake.

“aah- hamzah! fuck-“ you practically scream, rolling your hips up into his one last time before you orgasm. he just stares at you, slowing the roll of his own hips, in awe.

you notice as his pace slows after you catch your breath, looking up at him almost disappointed.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, voice worn out.

“you finished, i don’t wanna-“ he begins to ramble, but you cut him off.

“keep going.” you say firmly.

“huh?”

“want you to cum too.” you say, voice still soft and tired. you roll your hips up into him, still sensitive. he nods, pushing back into you.

he continues to thrust into you rougher and rougher until his hips are slapping against yours with every thrust. every little noise you make turns him on more, until finally, he forces himself to pull out of you.

he strokes himself on top of you, a string of cum landing on your stomach. he’s panting as he finishes all over you, painting your stomach white. you smile at the scene, enjoying the was he’s made you his little art piece.

he collapses next to you, laying on his back, catching his breath.

“glad i waited.” you mumble. he turns over to you, looking into your eyes.

“waited for what?” he asks, tiredly tilting his head.

“like, to have sex. m’glad I waited until you.” you mumble, tiredness apparent in your voice. hamzah thinks his heart melts a little at your words.

he grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and wipes the cum off of you so that he can pull you into his arms, dragging the covers over your body.

“i’m glad i waited for you too.”

#hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah smut #hamzahsmut

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kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Note

Hi congrats on 3k :)

Soo I’ve been thinking about sub Mingi quite a bit lately and if we’re going to get spooky lol what if he’s a clingy ghost that haunts and constantly comes around when he wants your attention and body? ;) Picture this: it’s 3 am and you wake up out of your sleep to see him gingerly pulling at your sleep shorts with a cute lil pout <3 He’s whining and pleading, “Y/N, can you please fuck me? I’m so lonely </3”

hehe thank you ^-^ 💞 ALSO EXCUSE YOUUU – NEEDY ?? SUB?? GHOST?? MINGI ???? 👁️👄👁️ i’m literally on my knees for you and this concept anonnie rjwjhw i hope i can deliver something worthy of this thot provoking ask <33

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: pouty subby baby boy mingi :((, big dick mingi, also he’s a ghost so he has ghost? features? lol, dom! reader, reader’s kinda mean ngl jssjs, so many pet names omg, some possessive language, light degradation, teasing, begging, praise, some pet play dynamics (everyone lets say thank you to @lemonhongjoong for making puppy ghost min a thing <3), drooling, brief mutual masturbation, grinding, cum eating, brief oral (receiving), doggy style obv, overstim, multiple creampies

Your roommates tend to keep to themselves these days — most notably when the sun goes down. They can’t bring themselves to tell one another about the things they’ve been experiencing without sounding like they’re crazy.

How could they possibly explain that they feel like they’re being watched when they’re taking a shower and laying alone in their beds? That they hear their names being whispered into their ears just as their eyelids grow heavy enough for them to drift off to sleep? How could they possibly let anyone know about the howls and wails they hear coming from somewhere in the house late at night?

How could you tell them that it had one of the most complicated, yet simplest answers? The answer being the (very needy) apparition that had appeared in your room for the third time that week. At 3 am, no less. A groan tumbled out of your dry throat as you tried to blink away the darkness and make out the figure that hovered above you.

“Y/N…wake up, so you can fuck me…” he whispered in a deep, breathy voice, the edges of his words thick with desire.

“You can’t keep doing this, Mingi…” you croaked, feeling the odd heaviness and simultaneous lightness of his body pressing into yours.

The ghost frowned, his head lowering slightly. “But I need you.”

You grimaced, your cheeks growing warm. “I need sleep.”

He whimpered, his fingers already pulling down your sleep shorts past your hips, looking down at you with an intense, unwavering gaze, his bluish plump lips forming a signature pout. You could already feel his heavy cock pressing into the side of your thigh. “Y/N, please. I’m so lonely.”

The fire inside you was lit — just like that. This was why you were never able to say no to him. The ghostly brat was so good at begging for your attention and body, you couldn’t possibly deny him. Though, he would have to work for it.

“If you want me so bad,” you began somewhat mockingly, feeling his cold hands settle on your hips for a moment and squeeze them slightly, a trail of goosebumps immediately forming where he touched you. “Then you’ll just have to get off in front of me first, ghostie.”

“D-don’t call me that,” Mingi murmured, blowing a few strands of whitish blond hair out of his eyes, biting his lip at your proposition. He would’ve blushed if he were still alive. “…Call me yours…”

“You know what, Mingi?”

“What?” he whined, his head drooping more, his bottom lip jutting out just enough to make you fall further underneath his spell, though you were determined to get the most out of this paranormal encounter.

Giggling softly at his reaction, you took his hands and slowly ran them up along your curves, up and under your hoodie until they were just underneath your breasts, feeling his fingers press slightly into your ribcage. He stared hard at you in the darkness, the whites of his eyes practically glowing as you gazed back at them with your own half-closed ones. “I’ll call you mine as soon as you cum for me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you play with your cock?”

Mingi throbbed inside his sweatpants as he pulled at the drawstrings, letting them fall until his long, veiny cock sprung out and curved up into his lower abdomen.

You smiled at the sight of it, your eyes trailing his thick length until you settled on the flushed, pronounced tip. “That’s a good boy.”

Mingi bit back a moan, his cock twitching on its own, the head leaving a strand of pre-cum behind when it made contact with his lower abdomen.

Sighing softly, you couldn’t help but give in and stroke your ego a little. “That’s all it takes, huh, Min? A little praise and you’re ready to spill your load for me?”

“Yeah, it makes me feel really good,” he answered in an oddly shy manner, despite his hand already closing around the base of his cock and jerking upwards, another thick bead of pre-cum oozing out of the bluish tip. “Fuck, I need you so bad."

You licked your lips, letting your hand slip down into your panties to rub your wetness around. “What do you need exactly, ghost boy? Enlighten me.”

“Need to be inside you. Need to fuck your cunt. Feel it squeeze around me when I fill you up. And, fuck–” He groaned harshly, his eyes centered on your moving hand, whimpering at the sounds of your slick, his wrist beginning to hurt from how roughly he was pleasuring himself. "Nnngh, does it feel good, Y/N? Knowing I’m gonna cum just for you?”

“It feels really good, Min,” you breathed out, rubbing your clit in between two fingers, tilting your head to the side, some of your hair falling into your eyes. “But, you know what would feel even better?”

“What?” he inquired as soon as the words left your mouth, his own mouth starting to hang open to let drool drip out, his cock throbbing away.

“If you rubbed your cock on my cunt, Minnie.” You smiled at the mess he was already becoming for you, lowering your panties just enough so that he could make out the slick glistening on your folds. “Do you want that?”

An airy whine left Mingi’s lips, his hips already starting to move on their own, practically using his hand as a fleshlight. “Yes, please.”

“So obedient,” You giggled, reaching out to run your index finger up along his stiff length, watching it twitch a bit once you swiped your finger up and over his cockhead. “And so sensitive. How cute.”

Mingi seriously would’ve turned into a tomato at this point, but you didn’t have to know that. He simply pouted and rutted himself against your upper thigh, getting his pre-cum all over it, pleading for you until you eventually tossed your panties to the side and spread your thighs apart for him.

“Get to work, Min,” you purred, running your fingers through his shaggy hair.

Like a dog hearing the dinner bell, he sprung into action, resting his hands near either side of your head, his chilled body flush against your heated one, his cock already rubbing deliciously along your cunt, more pre-cum leaking out of the tip. “Feels so good, so good, so good–”

“Aww, look at you, getting all worked up for me. What a needy boy.”

“Need you so bad,” he reassured, blowing a few bangs out of his eyesight. “Wanna fill you up.”

Wiping away a bit a sweat from your forehead, you couldn’t help but to let out a few breathy moans, the tip of the ghost’s thick cockhead sliding against your clit in a way that sent electricity through the rest of your body. “Cum for me and i’ll let you inside, Min, I promise…”

Mingi suddenly pushed himself up and grabbed onto your hips, thrusting forward so quickly, the springs in the mattress began to creak underneath the both of you, your combined slick allowing him to steadily bring you to your peak. “Gonna…cum…for you, Y/N…”

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that,” you praised breathily, feeling your lower half getting lifted up from how desperately he began to fuck himself on your wet cunt, your head dropping back when your high took over you, barely able to listen to all of the whiny moans that began to leave Mingi’s drooling mouth. “Such a good boy, my good boy…”

“Your–nnnngh–good boy,” Mingi echoed weakly, his body shuddering, his fingers leaving bruises in the flesh of your hips, holding you still as he left spurt after spurt of his release on your already dripping cunt and lower abdomen.

Once Mingi lowered your body back down on the bed, you ran your fingers through the warm liquid he left behind, giggling softy at the sound of his heavy panting and the sight of his pretty glistening lips when he licked his cum off of your fingers without you having to ask, his spit dripping down them. “What a naughty boy you are.”

“Just for you,” he nodded, trying to lick up the saliva that had dripped down his chin.

“Oh, sweetheart, you want to fuck me so bad, you’re going to drool all over yourself?” Your eyes sharpened, knowing you were about to reignite his fuse. “Are you a puppy or something?”

Mingi let out a shameless moan from your words, his previously half-hard cock coming back to life and throbbing steadily. If he had visible pupils, they would be blown out by now. “Yeah, I’m a needy puppy…I need my Master’s cunt.”

“Then, clean up your mess, puppy,” you chimed, his title for you giving you so much satisfaction you almost came right then and there. You spread your thighs apart, sending an inviting smile his way. “And then you can fuck your Master dumb, okay?”

Mingi’s mouth was on your cunt before you could take another breath, his wide tongue collecting your juices and his own cum as he brought it up and down your cunt. “Mmm, fuck…”

“Good puppy,” you praised, your cunt pulsing around his tongue once he shoved it inside along with two fingers that slowly spread you apart, almost losing your composure from the way he began to vigorously tongue-fuck you. “Fuck, what do you think you’re doing, Min?”

“ ‘M just cleaning up my mess,” he moaned against your cunt, swiping at your clit with the tip of his tongue, making you throb again. “I wanted to get you nice and stretched out for my cock too. Don’t want to hurt my Master.”

Mingi’s filthily adorable words drifted through your lust-drunk mind, encouraging you to spread your hole open for the sweet spirit, gazing up at him. “I’m ready for you, puppy. Come and get it.”

You couldn’t remember how long you had been there for, taking Mingi’s cock from behind, your thighs trembling underneath you, the side of your face squished into the cum-soaked mattress, your sore wrists being held taut in the ghost’s tight grip, your throat growing more and more dry every time he sunk back into the tight heat of your cunt. You didn’t even have to worry about your moans being heard by your roommates. Mingi’s moans were much louder, much more whiner than yours.

Poor Mingi couldn’t help it. It just felt so good being balls-deep in such a tight, warm hole he could fuck and fill until he had no more cum left to empty out inside you. His eyes wandered down your back, fixating on the milky liquid that dripped down his length, slamming himself into you until it got pushed back inside where it belonged. “Gonna cum, gonna fuck you so full, it’ll be dripping out of you during breakfast tomorrow,” he warned in a weak, breathy voice, massaging and squeezing your hip with his free hand.

“Do it, Min, fuck me so full,” you cried out, feeling your entire body begin to shudder and throb with pleasure, catapulting over the edge along with Mingi once he began to slowly fuck his load into you until it joined the others still coating your used inner walls. “One more time, baby, fill me again…”

“ H-hold on…’m too sensitive…right now,” the ghost informed in between pants, idly licking at the drool that wanted to leak out past his lips. He let go of your wrists to wipe at his mouth, not prepared for the way your cunt suddenly clenched around his length.

“One more, Minnie, you can do it,” you encouraged through slurred words, lifting yourself up so that you could began to drive yourself back onto his cock, growing wetter just from the filthy squelching of your combined cum, Mingi’s sudden gasps, and his equally cute high pitched, airy moans. “That’s right, feels so good, huh?”

“S-so good,” Mingi choked out, running his hands up his body and holding onto himself periodically, hyper-fixated on the space where your slick bodies connected, whining each time you slammed yourself back onto him and took his cock inside as far as it would go. “Oh my goddd…you’re gonna make me cum again.”

You looked back at him, admiring the way his glistening lips were stuck in an ‘o’ shape, the way his eyebrows were screwed upwards, the look in his teary, half-closed eyes that told you not to stop. “Cum for me, baby, come on, give it to me,” you moaned out, fucking yourself on his cock until you clamped down on it, your own release spilling out of you and down your inner thighs.

“Y/N, fuck…!” Right on cue, Mingi let out a shamelessly loud wail, a few tears escaping his eyes, as you fucked him through his intense orgasm, milking his cock until he unloaded every last drop into you.

You were brought out of your cloudy headspace when Mingi’s body landed near yours on the mattress, suddenly compelled to wipe the remnants of tears away from his drool-stained face. “What a good ghost boy you are,” you whispered teasingly, yours fingers resting against his clammy cheek, rubbing it gently with your thumb.

Mingi squished his opposite cheek into the pillow, not knowing that it was flushed with a deep blue hue. His eyes crinkled at the edges, giving you a wobbly smile.

“Your ghost boy.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#scheduled post #⛧ seance smutfest ⛧#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #mingi #ateez mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #kpop smut #ateez oneshot

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mightbeimpossiblenotto · 14 days ago

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House - Oct 12 - @rosekillermicrofic - 1,950 words - Warnings: mild homophobia from character’s father, biting again

(a/n - this one is too long again, but it needed some world building)

Evan met Barty when he was just seven years old. His parents had taken him to some pureblood gathering for the adults, leaving the children to themselves in another room. Some of the other kids already knew each other from previous events, and they formed little groups, of which Evan had no desire to be a part. There was one sullen looking boy standing against one of the walls, glaring at everyone else with hazel eyes. His hair was a messy mop of dark brown, his skin pale and clear. Evan approached him.

“I’m Evan Rosier,” he greeted, in the way he had been taught to introduce himself, sticking a hand out to shake.

Barty stared at his hand with disdain. “Barty.”

Oh, Evan had heard that name before. “Crouch’s son?”

Barty’s face went abruptly dark as he straightened up against the wall. Evan took his hand back as it seemed Barty had no intentions of shaking it, awkwardly putting it back in his pocket.

“Don’t ever mention my father to me,” he spat. Evan didn’t flinch, he just raised one eyebrow at the other boy until Barty softened. “We don’t exactly get along.”

“I don’t get along with my father, either,” Evan offered, though he knew he didn’t mean it in the same way that Barty must mean. Evan’s father was a stony man; he didn’t show affection or any other emotion, and he didn’t show his love in any traditional methods, if at all. For much of his life, Evan considered his father on the outside of their small family: him, Pandora, and their mother had a very close relationship, and then there was their father on the outside, looking in but not participating. It seemed that Barty’s relationship with his father was even worse than apathetic.

But Barty seemed comforted by Evan’s commiseration. His face relaxed, and he stopped leaning against the wall. By the end of the evening, Barty and Evan had played several games of chess and exploding snap.

And I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think your house is haunted

Your dad is always mad and that must be why

They became good friends, Evan and Barty. They started seeing each other at more pureblood social events, and they each ignored every other child present, only playing with one another. By the time it was time to go to Hogwarts, Evan was excited about the prospect of seeing his friend every day, perhaps even living in the same dorm as him.

Barty was thrilled when he got on the train. He was nearly bouncing out of his seat with excitement. They shared a train car with Evan’s sister Pandora and a friend of hers, Dorcas. A third boy named Regulus wandered in at some point, his carefully bored expression trying to mask some anxiety at having to search for an open compartment. Barty invited him in immediately.

It wasn’t until far later that night, after the sorting hat ceremony and the welcoming feast, after Regulus, Evan and Barty had all been sorted into Slytherin and found out they were going to be sharing a dorm room together, that Barty’s good mood finally broke. Regulus had gone to sleep, an unnatural silence surrounding his bed curtains after he had pulled them shut (he must already know how to do silencing charms).

Evan was sitting up in bed reading a book, and Barty had been unpacking his trunk, showing Evan every little thing he had brought from home. After a while, Barty had gone quiet, and Evan realized he was able to finish a whole chapter without Barty interrupting. He looked up, only to find Barty staring at the wall, eyes unseeing, as tears streamed unhindered down his cheeks.

“Barty!” Evan whisper-shouted, shocked. He hurried out of bed to crouch next to his friend, but when Barty didn’t move at all, Evan changed tactics and sat next to him. Their backs were leaning against Barty’s bed as they stared at the stone walls that made up their dungeon dorm room. Evan waited for Barty to speak first.

“I’ve never spent a night away from home,” Barty finally whispered, which wasn’t what Evan had expected him to say at all. He was confused — Barty always complained about being at home, being near his father, so Evan expected him to love being away at Hogwarts. He waited for further explanation, and Barty quickly gave it. “I’m so… relieved.”

His voice broke, and then Barty was sobbing, and Evan pulled him as close as he could while he cried.

And I think you should come live with me

And we can be pirates

After several years at Hogwarts, Evan grew used to Barty’s confusing relationship with his family. He returned home for every holiday, never missing a single chance to leave. He professed how much he loved Hogwarts, how much he hated to leave, especially when Evan or Regulus were staying behind for a holiday. It took Evan until fourth year to realize the reason Barty always went back was for his mum.

He never spoke about her. He complained about his father on a daily basis; he repeated every terrible thing his father had ever put in his head, much to the displeasure of Evan, who felt it was his personal duty to prove Barty’s father wrong. But Barty never mentioned his mum.

Evan had asked Barty to come to his house for Christmas in fourth year. After three years of watching his friend come back from the Christmas holiday looking miserable and emotionally beaten down by his father, Evan had had enough. A week before they were all supposed to board the train back to London, Evan broached the subject with Barty.

“Why don’t you ever come to mine for holiday?” Evan asked. “If being at home makes you so miserable, that is.” He had been listening to Barty complain for close to three hours at that point.

“Can’t,” Barty said simply. “I have to see mum.”

Evan hadn’t ever asked again.

Then you won’t have to cry

Or hide in the closet

When Barty came back for sixth year, he was different. Evan couldn’t explain what it was to anyone else, but it was entirely obvious to him. Something fundamental had changed Barty in some way, and Evan felt entitled to that information. Barty walked onto the train with a different swagger to his step, a different attitude behind his words, a different emotion behind his eyes. It was as if he had a mask on for everyone else, but Evan could see right through it, and he hated the fact that he was the only one who could see it.

To make matters worse, Barty was avoiding Evan and their group of friends, never spending any time in the dorm or even the common room. He was usually hooking up with some girl, stumbling into the dorm early the next morning, looking disheveled and depressed. Evan couldn’t understand it. Barty had never shown interest in girls before, despite other boys in their year having started ages ago. Evan found comfort in this fact, as he had never had any interest in the other sex, and he was beginning to realize he never would. Except Barty had come back and, very suddenly, girls were all he could or would think about.

Evan’s patience quickly wore thin, and he confronted Barty one day on his return to the dorm. Evan had been waiting for him, fuming, because he hadn’t spent any time with Barty at all in weeks. As soon as Barty walked through the door, Evan practically pounced.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Bartemius Crouch, Jr.?” Evan spat, backing Barty against the door he had just closed behind him.

“Um,” Barty fumbled ineloquently. “Getting dressed, I hope? These clothes are from last night.”

“I know,” Evan hissed. “You’re never fucking here anymore. Why are you never here?”

He watched Barty swallow thickly, his throat bobbing. “I’m here, I live here, Evan—“

“You haven’t slept here since we’ve been back,” Evan insisted. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He shoved closer, getting in Barty’s space, watching as his eyes flew wide. “Get the hell off me—“

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you,” Evan prodded. “C’mon, Barty, it’s me. We’ve been friends since we were seven.”

Barty stared at him for what felt like a long time. Finally, he admitted, “I had a fight with my father. A big one.”

Evan’s eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t back off from Barty yet. “That’s it? You fight with him all the time.”

“Yeah,” Barty blew out a large breath, the pieces of hair framing his face fanning out. “But, this time, he found out his only son and heir is gay.”

It went dead silent for a moment while Evan processed that vital bit of information. Barty tried to look nonchalant, as if he didn’t care at all what Evan’s reaction would be, but he kept inadvertently flicking worried glances Evan’s way.

“The girls,” Evan said, meaning it as a question but it came out more as a grunt. Barty knew what he meant anyway.

“Yeah,” Barty sighed. “I thought maybe I could fake it pretty well. I don’t even sleep with most of them. We just end up getting drunk and making out, which is fine for me.”

Evan’s head was spinning. “But you — guys. You’re into guys.”

Barty swallowed again, and Evan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Barty’s throat even if he tried. He leaned forward, not quite sure what he was planning on doing before he pressed his lips to the skin just over Barty’s thundering pulse on the side of his neck. Barty gasped beneath him, arching up into his touch. Evan groaned against his skin, gently biting the area and soothing the sting with his tongue. Barty made a sort of keening wail.

“Oh, Merlin, Evan,” Barty gasped out, and then his hands were shoving Evan back. His pupils were blown wide when Evan looked at him. “You — you’re…?”

He trailed off, not quite asking what he wanted to ask. Evan answered anyway. “I like you. I want you. I don’t really care about anyone else.”

Barty’s eyes, which were already too-wide, grew impossibly wider. He surged forward, connecting their lips for a moment, and it was like Evan was doused in fire. He had no idea how he had managed to live without kissing Barty before. Too soon, Barty was pulling away, but only to tack on: “Me too, Evan. Only you.”

And just like a folk song

Our love will be passed on

The day after they graduated from Hogwarts, Barty and Evan moved into a tiny flat in London. It was barely enough space for a living area, kitchen, bedroom and bath, and Evan couldn’t possibly love it any more than he already did. It meant so much to him to live in a space that only belonged to him and Barty, a space that was entirely theirs.

Barty was at the shops, but he would be home soon. Home — that was the word Evan had been searching for. He’d lived in many places: his family’s extravagant manor, their many vacation houses, the dormitory, to name a few. But he had never felt at home in any of them, not the way he did in that tiny flat, with Barty.

When Barty finally did arrive, with four bags of groceries hanging off of his arms, Evan greeted him with a soft kiss and a warm smile. “Welcome home,” he said.

“Happy to be here,” Barty replied.

#barty crouch jr #evan rosier #evan x barty #rosekiller #marauders #rosekiller microfic #barty crouch x evan rosier #microfic #microfic prompt #taylor swift #seven

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lipslikethegardensofbabylon · 1 year ago

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I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted

#taylor swift #candy swift #tswiftedit #tswiftdaily #tsuserclaire #userspendsmychange #tsuserkatie

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itsdelicate · 1 year ago

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i’ve seen people interpreting this line from ‘seven’: “And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted, Your dad is always mad and that must be why” both ways, so

#text #taylor swift #poll #polls

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callmedaleelah · 12 days ago

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— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i’ve been meaning to tell you i think your house is haunted

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit on the chair, the weight of the conversation bearing down on you, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk’s surface. Every inhale feels shallow, as though the air in your lungs isn’t enough to settle the nervous tremor in your chest. Tsukishima waits, the silence growing heavier. From your peripheral, you catch him sitting casually on the edge of your bed, his legs folded, one hand resting loosely on his knee. His presence is calm but intent—he's here for answers, but he's giving you the space to gather yourself. That patience makes it harder to speak.

Finally, you point to the small prescription bottle on the desk, the label a stark reminder of the doctor’s words. “This is the prescription from my doctor,” you say, your voice fragile in the quiet room.

Tsukishima’s gaze sharpens as he leans slightly forward, his voice calm but direct. “And why did your doctor prescribe you that?” His words slice through the tension like a precise cut, offering no space for avoidance.

You try to meet his eyes but falter, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. His presence, typically so grounding, now feels like a magnifying glass trained on you. You part your lips to respond, but no words come. The vulnerability is too much.

Tsukishima tilts his head slightly, his frown deepening as he reads your hesitation. His voice, still calm, now holds a quiet insistence. “You’ve had trouble sleeping this whole time?” His eyes don’t waver, searching yours for the truth.

It’s impossible to hide. “I—” you stammer, but under his unflinching gaze, your defenses crumble. “Yes, I do. But it’s not severe. It’s not something you should be worried about or—”

“Hey,” Tsukishima interrupts, his voice soft but firm, “Look at me.”

The sudden shift in his tone pulls you from the spiral of words. His eyes, usually cold and detached, soften as he reaches out, his long fingers wrapping around your hand. The warmth from his touch steadies you in a way you didn’t expect.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice lowers further, coaxing your attention back to him. His thumb brushes gently against your knuckles, and for a moment, it feels like an anchor holding you steady in the storm inside your mind.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admit, the words falling out before you can stop them. “I just didn’t know how to talk to you. Or to anyone.”

The confession makes you feel raw, like a nerve exposed to the cold air. You pull your gaze away again, focusing on the faint pattern of the rug under your feet, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your neck. The silence feels heavy now—not from Tsukishima’s presence, but from your own admission. You’ve never felt more inadequate, more clueless about how to navigate the complicated mess of being close to someone.

“I’m sorry for not knowing how to be a good girlfriend for you, Kei” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. Voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks. Tsukishima hushes you gently, cupping your face with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his. He tries to keep his composure, but his chest tightens when he sees you crying.

“Don’t say that. You don’t have to apologize for this.” he whispers, his voice carrying a weight you weren’t prepared for. His thumb softly wipes your tears, though more spill over, leaving him feeling helpless. “Now tell me about your appointment today,”

You swallow hard, feeling the tears build up again. It’s overwhelming, the tenderness in his touch and the quiet care in his voice. It’s too much, and not enough all at once. “I told the doctor how dizzy I feel in the mornings, how I can’t sleep because I’m up studying all night, and when I try, my mind won’t stop racing. I’m so tired, but I can’t make it stop.” Your voice shakes with hiccups in between.

“The doctor said I’m under a lot of stress, but I don’t know how to stop feeling like this—I’m not good enough in class. You know that, right?”

Tsukishima shakes his head firmly. “You’re doing just fine. You’re so diligent, and you work so hard—that’s all I see,” he says, his voice calm yet final, as if there’s no room for argument.

A weak smile crosses your face, though it fades quickly. “You might think that, but my mom never will…” you chuckle bitterly.

Tsukishima frowns deeply. He’s noticed the signs, from when he first scolded you at the parking lot—counting your vitamins and tonics, to your birthday dinner where your mother’s expectations seemed more suffocating than proud. She monitors your meals, your routine, your every move—and he realizes how far her control goes.

It clicks into place for him. The pressure, the obsession with perfection in academic—it’s all coming from her. Rage simmers beneath his calm exterior, but more than that, he feels hurt for you, knowing you’re baring your soul to him because you can’t do the same with your own mother.

Tsukishima’s jaw tenses as he mutters, “What is wrong with your mother?” His hand remains gentle, still cupping your face, his thumb wiping away the remnants of your tears. His tall figure looms protectively in front of you, his gaze sharp yet soft with concern.

“I know it’s none of my business, but it just has been on my mind,” he continues, his voice low but filled with intent. “the way she treats you—with so much pressure. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

You look up, your head tilting instinctively, searching his expression, the weight of his words sinking in. You didn’t realize when your tears stopped, but now, in this moment, something has shifted inside you. It feels like a weight has lifted off your chest—like he’s offering you the validation you’ve always feared to give yourself. The part of you that had always been too scared to voice those thoughts, the part that felt like a coward, suddenly felt seen.

“I don’t know what happened to my mom,” you whisper. “She was absent most of my childhood, she had this big career, something that seemed more important than anything.”

Tsukishima remains silent, his hand still on your cheek, allowing you the space to speak. His presence feels like a quiet support, grounding you as you delve into a part of your life you rarely voice.

“She was a brilliant scientist,” you explain, your voice soft as you trace the memories in your mind. “A biochemical researcher, always working on these important projects. She was always in the lab, always focused on something else, something that wasn’t me. I think I grew up used to it… knowing she had more important things to handle. But…”

Your breath hitches slightly as you continue, the words forming heavy with emotion. “When I graduated from junior high school, something happened—she quit her job—I don’t know why, and suddenly, all of her focus shifted to me. She pushed me harder, hired tutors, sent me to private school—I lost all my friends. By the time I hit my final year, she decided I had to follow in her footsteps, join this major, and become someone like her.”

Your voice wavers as you continue, the weight of these memories pressing down on you. “She pushed me too hard. I couldn’t sleep or even take a break if I didn’t follow the schedules she made. I’m not naturally smart and I always struggled to keep up. I remember telling my dad I wanted to be a baseball player once, but that was before all of this. I had to endure all of that pressure, pushing through day after day, just to meet her expectations and get into this university. I felt like I had no other choice.”

Your hands tremble slightly, and you pause to take a breath, feeling the tension in your chest build as you approach the more difficult part of your story. Tsukishima doesn’t move, but his quiet presence feels comforting.

“And then… something happened,” you whisper, the weight of those memories pulling at your voice. “I told my parents I wasn’t feeling well—I was cold, dizzy… We thought it was just a fever, but it kept getting worse. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even respond properly when they spoke to me.”

You feel Tsukishima hold your hand tighter, his silent way of telling you he’s listening, urging you to go on.

“One night… I had a seizure. My parents rushed me to the hospital, and that’s when the doctors diagnosed me with stress-induced encephalopathy. It had damaged my brain functions.” Your voice cracks, and you look away for a moment, but Tsukishima’s touch keeps you anchored. “My dad didn’t know how hard my mom had been pushing me, so he thought I was just stressed about university.”

You swallow hard before continuing. “He put me in long-term treatments, the doctors said it was the only way to heal. I thought maybe, after everything, my mom would stop pressuring me, that she’d finally understand what it was doing to me.”

You pause, the bitterness rising in your throat as you speak the next words. “But no. She told me that I should be grateful for the chance to heal. And the only way to show that gratitude was to keep going. To excel.”

The words hang heavy in the air, the truth of them finally spoken. You’ve never said this out loud, not to anyone. But here, with Tsukishima, it feels… bearable. His thumb continues its slow, soothing motions against your cheek, grounding you as your emotions begin to settle.

Tsukishima’s eyes soften even further as he takes in what you’ve shared. “That’s not fair to you,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a protective edge.

His words strike deep, the truth of them cutting through the layers of guilt you’ve carried for so long. For once, you don’t feel like you have to justify it. You don’t have to make excuses for her or pretend that the pressure is okay.

Tsukishima, sensing the shift in you, lowers himself slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. His hand moves from your cheek to rest gently on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re okay now, I got you, Love,”

ohmygod i’m really sorry for not posting anything for so long, i’m afraid people start to forget about this whole story 😭😭

i’ve just been so busy and burnt out. i cried after taking mid term exams yesterday and don’t want to continue my life 😭😭 but it’s all good now

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

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sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Ch. 5: Safe (finale)

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter

summary: The culmination of the haunting of Harrenhal. Secrets are revealed.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: ANGST, grief, possession, mentions and descriptions of death, suffocation, claustrophobia, car accident resulting in death, home invasion, ghosts, spooky things, fighting, blood, spiders

note: some things are revealed, and some are left for you to rattle around with and ponder! Happy Halloween my loves! 🎃 👻

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange! thank you again for making this for me, I've appreciated it so much!

The drive home is filled with comfortable silence. The rain has changed from a torrential downpour to a light drizzle; steam rising off the blacktop curling toward the sky like smoke. The back of the car is full of shopping bags. It was hard to choose only one doll, and Aemond was insistent that Jaehaera should have one of her choosing; thus resulting in the purchase of one of each.

It was past suppertime by the time you’d returned to the grounds, the sky turning a pale purple as the sun sank over the horizon.

The house was quiet as you entered. Aemond hurried himself upstairs to check on Helaena and you made yourself busy in the kitchen. You found some leftovers and plated them before putting on the kettle.

You turn at the sound of footsteps. Aemond’s eye is wide, and he nods as you acknowledge him.

“Everything alright?” you ask, and he nods again more forcefully.

“Yes, she’s just with Maelor now in her room,” he tells you, “Jaehaera is in the nursery. Everything’s…alright.” He says it like he can’t believe it’s true.

“Sit,” you tell him, “You should eat.”

Aemond does as he’s told, sitting in a chair and rubbing his face.

“I’m so relieved,” he admits, “I didn’t…I was a bit unsure…” Aemond sighs then, leaning back in his chair, “Well she hasn’t been keen to interact with him since….”

“Since Jaehaerys,” you finish his sentence for him.

“Yes,” he agrees, “Since Jaehaerys.”

How much do you push? You’re not even sure what this means now that you and Aemond have slept together. How much should you know? You place a plate in front of him, before sitting down at the table as well.

How much do you want to know?

“What happened to him?” you ask, nervous to broach the subject.

You’d read a bit online about what had happened, but there were little details made public. About anything to be honest. The Targaryens were quite secretive.

“Helaena….” Aemond begins, “It was terrible. A home invasion. It happened right in front of her…” Aemond sighs, “I just want her to be safe. I’ve never been more scared than on that night. I thought I’d lost them all.”

Aemond rubs a hand over his face, closing his eyes.

“He thought he was hiding,” Aemond says softly, “Like a game. Helaena told him to go hide and he did. But…” Aemond swallows before continuing, “No one could find him. Long after the police had been there. Not until.”

Nausea rolls through you, discomfort sitting like a weight in your stomach.

“Where was he?”

“He’d gotten into the attic somehow, locked himself in a chest,” Aemond says, wiping a tear escaping his eye, “The coroner said he’d most likely fallen asleep. That the lack of oxygen wasn’t…it wasn’t a painful way to go.”

You can’t help the small, pained gasp that leaves you and you rush to cover your mouth with your hand, tears welling in your eyes. Just picturing little Jaehaera, you can’t even imagine something like that happening to her.

“And it was so soon after Alys,” he admits, “I wasn’t..I wasn’t myself. I don’t think I could have survived it. If Helaena…”

“Alys….she was pregnant, wasn’t she?” you ask, speaking very slowly.

Aemond gives you a curt nod, fingers tapping the table.

“She was,” he admits, “We weren’t….it wasn’t planned. But we were happy.”

You listen to him talk, focusing on the movement of his mouth.

“Car accident,” he murmurs, answering your unspoken question.

You nod slightly as he raises his eyes to see your reaction. There is no need to press any further on the subject of Alys. You can tell he still cares for her, that the wound has not healed.

“When I brought the children here…the first time…the girl before you, Floris,” he begins, and you nod for him to continue, “That’s when Alys first showed herself. I thought if she had Jaehaera to look after, she’d be content.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Moments of confusion begin to click in your mind, the realization chilling.

“She was, for a while,” Aemond tells you, deeply sighing, “I didn’t realize she’d…take over Floris until she tried...well,” He pauses a moment, wetting his lips before glancing up at you, “I’m sure you can imagine what happened.”

“Oh,” you answer, cheeks warming, “And did you..”

“No!" he answers quickly, "Seven hells I was embarrassed,” Aemond says, his own cheeks turning pink, “I had no feelings for her, nor her any for me. The poor girl was humiliated when she realized what Alys had tried to make her do. Left the following morning with little more than a resignation note scribbled on a napkin.”

“What does she want?” you ask, referring to his dead wife.

“I just think…” Aemond trails off, his eyes lost in thought, “I think she’s lonely. I think most of the spirits trapped here are.”

“And yet you mean to sell.”

“What would you have me do?” Aemond asks, resting his hand over his mouth, his elbow against the table.

You hold his gaze, unsure of how to answer.

Lights shine into the kitchen, along with the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires. Someone pulled in the driveway.

“Someone’s here,” Aemond murmurs, standing.

He goes to the front door and you stay behind, cleaning up the plates.

Voices soon grow louder as you clear the table. Not quite yelling, but raising in volume. You’re able to catch just pieces of the conversation; Aemond and someone else.

“She’s owed it,” Daemon’s voice makes your blood run cold, “More than you.”

“Alys was my wife,” Aemond argues, “This is what she wanted. I’m respecting her wishes.”

“It’s rather convenient that all those documents were lost,” Daemon continues, “Harwin wanted this place to go to Rhaenyra. To the boys.”

“Then he should have made the arrangements before…”

“Yes,” Daemon says slowly, “I suppose he should have. However, it is rather curious. He returns to Harrenhal House to get his will squared away and then…” Daemon trails off.

“What are you implying?” Aemond asks cooly.

“I’m only being curious,” Daemon insists, a playful edge to his voice, “Though I’m sure you’ll get a pretty penny for this old place. Ghosts and all.”

Aemond doesn’t answer, and you hear Daemon bark out a sharp laugh.

“Come now, lēkianna (nephew), have a sense of humor.”

“I want you gone,” Aemond quips.

“Yes, well, we all want things, don’t we?” Daemon asks, the smile evident in his tone.

You take another step and a floorboard creaks causing you to wince.

“Ah. That’ll be your little friend,” Daemon muses, missing nothing, “But before I take my leave, Rhaenyra asked about Helaena.”

“She’s fine,” Aemond snaps, “I’m taking care of her.”

You back up into the kitchen at the sound of footsteps. Daemon appears not a moment later, a half smile on his face. He’s dressed in a black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Aemond stands behind him in the doorway, watching closely.

“Kettle on?” Daemon asks you, violet eyes narrowed. You give him a curt nod. “Be a dear, won’t you?”

You glance at Aemond, meeting his eyes. He looks exhausted but tilts his chin giving you the silent go-ahead. Turning from Daemon you grab a mug and prepare him a cup of tea. Daemon walks around the kitchen as you do so; you can feel his presence behind you. Aemond remains in the doorway his hands curled into anxious fists at his side. You try not to let your hands tremble as you offer the cup to Daemon, turning away from the counter.

He takes it, offering a small smile in return as he sips from the steaming cup.

“She’d be better off with Rhaenyra,” Daemon says, not ready to end the previous conversation, “Not like your crowd could keep anyone safe-”

Aemond lurches forward, smashing Daemon’s cup from his hand and sending it to the floor. It shatters and pieces of the mug explode against the kitchen floor. Daemon merely smiles, as though the display was nothing more than a child’s tantrum.

“Do you deny it?” Daemon taunts, “Be angry all you want; I only speak the truth.”

“Out,” Aemond hisses.

Daemon smiles crookedly, fire in his violet eyes. They stare at each other, neither refusing to back down first. They’re quite similar, you’ve noticed. Perhaps they once got along.

“The deed to the house,” Daemon tells him, “Then I’ll go.”

“You’ll go now,” Aemond says, grabbing Daemon by the shirt, and dragging him towards the door.

“Aemond!” you yell, as they push through the front door.

Daemon laughs as he pushes him, holding his hands out in feigned surrender. You’re almost sure Daemon could stop him if he truly wanted to; the older man is built with more muscle, less lithe and lean than Aemond is. You follow close behind as they make it out the door and down the front steps.

“Stop it!”

The two men continue fighting; they tumble down into the front yard, the rain-soaked grass causing them to lose their footing. The air is misty, the rain falling gently, steadily.

It’s a blur of fists and silver hair, Daemon’s fist connects with the side of Aemond’s head and red explodes into the air like drops of rain. His ring has cut Aemond’s temple, blood trickling down the side of his face, a brilliant scarlet against porcelain flesh.

“Stop it!” you yell, but the men ignore you continuing their fighting.

Aemond grapples with Daemon, spitting at him as he manages to wriggle out of his grip. You watch as Aemond gets the upper hand, his fist connecting with Daemon’s face. There’s blood on his hands, blood on his rain-soaked shirt and he keeps punching him again, again, again.

“Aemond!” you yell, your voice raw.

His eyes snap up, looking at you standing in the rain watching him. Daemon laughs below him, a slow giggle that grows in volume.

Aemond rises off the ground, running a hand over his slicked hair and walking toward you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry---” You wrap your arms around him, holding his lean form against you, hand pressed to the back of his head.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “It’s alright.”

You stand there holding him as Daemon sits up, spitting a wad of blood and saliva into the ground as he stands. Rain soaks through your clothes, Aemond’s head heavy against your shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” Daemon says begrudgingly, walking over to his car, “If you won’t sign it over, she’ll put in an offer herself. And Helaena….” Daemon clicks his tongue, “Give her my regards.”

Daemon runs a hand over his hair, opening the door to his car before starting the engine. The tires crunch against the gravel as he speeds off.

“You’re freezing,” Aemond says. You’d hardly noticed you’d started shivering, your teeth rattling against each other. Aemond’s body pressed against yours, the only warmth you feel. Aemond takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “Go upstairs, make sure Helaena is still alright?”

You force a nod, unable to stop your shaking. Your eyes are locked on his face, at the drying blood on the right side. Raindrops gather around the congealing blood, pink tears rolling down his cheek and onto his neck.

“I’ll get cleaned up,” he says softly, “Let’s go inside.”

You head up the stairs, hurrying to Helaena’s room as Aemond returns to the kitchen. You give the door a gentle knock before opening without a response from within. Perhaps she’s sleeping.

The room is dark, moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“Helaena!” you call, stepping forward but stopping yourself.

She stands on her balcony, her silver hair blowing softly behind her. The rain sprinkles into the room, pearly dew drops gathering on the hardwood floor like glass marbles. The gate of the railing is thrown wide open so that if she took a step forward she would plummet to the ground below. Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline warming you even though you’re soaked to the bone.

“Shhh,” Helaena murmurs, pointing to the bassinet that balances on the railing. Maelor is sound asleep within it. A breeze rolls through and you shiver.

“Helaena,” you say more softly, struggling to keep your voice even.

“He’s sleeping,” she says, staring at Maelor, “Isn’t he lovely?”

You take a cautious step forward, your shoes squelching as you do so.

“It’s cold, Hel,” you say, struggling to keep your voice light and even, “Why don’t you come inside?”

She ignores you, still gazing at her sleeping son.

“He looks so much like him,” she muses, brushing some soft hair, “He sleeps better. Jaehaerys never slept this easy as a baby.” She smiles softly, the back of her fingers almost stroking his cheek, “So soft. Perfect. A little angel, don’t you think?”

You nod, unable to speak, your throat tight with fear. Helaena hums happily and Maelor softly coos in his sleep, his fists raised above his head.

“He should stay like this,” Helaena murmurs, “Just safe, happy. He doesn't have a care in the world.” Her fingers dance along his face, not quite touching him, “There’s so much pain ahead of him. So much hurt. Scraped knees, broken bones. Loss. Heartbreak.” She laughs quietly, still swaying in the wind. “I can fix that.”

Fear stabs through you like a knife between your ribs. “Hel..”

“I can,” she says, eyes meeting yours, “Right now. Spare him any of that. Isn’t that what a mother should do? Protect her baby from harm?”

You swallow.

“I don’t want him to hurt,” she says, tears streaming down her face, “That’s all.”

“I know,” you tell her, “And you can try, and you can love him and hold him, and teach him, but…you can’t control the world.”

“But I can control this,” she insists, “Right now. I can choose.”

“Helaena,” you beg, “You don’t want this, not really. You want your baby to live. You want Maelor to have a life.”

Her lip wobbles, and tears spill down her cheeks soaking the fabric of her nightgown.

“But ... .but…I don’t wish this pain. Why?” she asks, looking at you suddenly, “Why can’t it stop?”

“That’s the price we pay,” you tell her, “That’s the deal you make with the world.”

“Rotten luck,” she says, laughing bitterly, “This family is cursed. We brought him into the world with a sword hanging above his head. It’s only a matter of time before…” Helaena winces, pressing her palm against her head, “My head….” she says, voice breaking softly, “It always hurts.”

“Maybe he’ll break it,” you insist, “Generational curses don’t have to go on forever. The cycle can end.”

“I suppose,” Helaena muses, giving you a wry smile, “You have lots of hope.”

“I don’t--”

“It’s good,” she interrupts, “Aemond does too. You’re good for him. He has eyes…though I don’t think he can see.” She turns and steps inside.

You take a hesitant step forward reaching to take Maelor, steadying the bassinet as it wobbles. Helaena allows it, walking past you into the room as you scoop the sleeping babe into your arms.

“This feels familiar,” Helaena says, glancing back at the balcony. A breeze rolls through, making you shiver, but Helaena stands unmoving. “Like…it’s happened before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want a book,” Helaena muses, ignoring your question, walking toward the door, “I’d like a different story.” She leaves her bedroom door open as she turns down the hall in the direction of the library.

You steady yourself, taking a deep breath before walking to the nursery. Jaehaera isn’t in her bed when you arrive. A chill rolls through you. You place Maelor in his crib, closing the nursery door. A giggle is heard then, echoing through the hall.

“Jaehaera?” you call, walking slowly down the hall.

The giggling continues, along with the sound of running feet. Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck rises and you turn.

Alys is in front of you, her green eyes bright. Shock pours through you, fear running through your veins like ice water.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, “I didn’t…”

You take an unconscious step back, adrenaline spiking at the perceived threat.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she says softly, “I just thought..” She trails off, “He’s been meaning to leave for some time. I tried to make him stay…even with Helaena..” Alys shakes her head, “I thought if we could have a baby. Our baby. I just wanted him to stay, that’s all.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

“He can’t go,” she tells you, “Not the way he wants to.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Alys grimaces.

“He can’t leave the way he wants,” she repeats, slowing her words.

What? “But Alys,” you tell her, “I don’t understand..please..”

“You know,” she tells you, backing up into the darkness until her glowing green eyes are all you can see—green flames in the darkness. “You’re clever. Help him see.”

Help him see.

Help him see what? But Alys has gone, evaporating into darkness.

He can’t leave the way he wants to.

You walk down the hall, turning into the library. It appears to be empty and you crane your head around the darkened corners of the room, your mind spinning.

He can’t leave the way he wants to.

“Helaena?” you call.

The way he wants to.

“Jaehaera?”

Aemond calls your name and you turn as he enters the library, his pace brisk.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand, “Grab the baby. And Jaehaera, we’re leaving.”

He pulls you forward, and you nearly lose your footing, his hand holding yours tightly.

“Now?” you ask, your tone concerned.

“We’ll stay somewhere in town,” he says, “It’ll be fine for a little while, then I’ll call my mother and figure something out with the house.” His voice borders on hysterical, “We’ve got to get them out. We’ve gotta get out now. Before something happens.”

“Before what happens?” you question. He can’t leave the way he wants. “Aemond wait, stop--”

“What?” he says pausing, “I’ll get Helaena and we’ll go. It’s you and me.” He places his hands on your cheeks. “We’ll all be alright.”

His eyes are wide and he’s breathing heavily. You place your hands on top of his.

“Something’s wrong,” you tell him, “Something’s not right, we can’t.”

“Why?” Aemond says, “We can, I promise you we can let… let's just go-”

“Aemond-”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Your eyes snap towards the door at the sound of her voice. Helaena stands in the doorway, her hair and nightgown dry. Her eyes are softer, a small smile on her face.

“He’s so hopeful,” she says softly, as Aemond watches her, “Even now.”

A chill rolls down your spine as she walks into the room. Even the way she walks is whimsical like she’s floating rather than walking.

“Hel-” you begin, but your throat grows tight with emotion.

“Don’t,” she says softly, “It’s alright. I wasn’t sure before but…he knows. I think he’s known for some time.”

He knows I’m dead, she means.

“He just doesn’t want to believe it.”

This feels familiar, she’d said when standing on her balcony.

It all makes sense.

Dead from the beginning.

“I used to have so many dreams about this place,” she muses, looking up toward the ceiling, “So much suffering within these walls. Death lives within the foundation of this house. It is no wonder things are this way. When I came here….” she trails off, wetting her lips, “Everything was loud. So loud in my head. Louder than it had ever been before.”

“You died,” you tell her, piecing the story together, “When you…when you first came to Harrenhal.” Helaena smiles at you softly, her eyes sad.

“It was too loud,” she says softly, “I was grieving. It all was too much.”

“Aemond said it wasn’t you…..the screaming that night in the hall…but it was, wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, her eyes just continue to flicker between you and her younger brother.

“Helaena,” Aemond says, speaking softly, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve…I should’ve-”

“Shhhh valonqar,” she says, stepping forward, stroking his cheek, “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I didn’t want this,” Aemond insists, “I just wanted...I just wanted you to be safe.”

“I am,” Helaena insists, “I’m safe. It’s so quiet now.” She looks up at the night sky, smiling to herself. “My head isn’t as loud.”

“How can that be?” Aemond asks.

“Alys meant well,” Helaena tells him, pursing her lips, “She only meant to keep you here.”

“Alys,” you realize aloud, “It was her?”

“Sometimes ... .she'd get in my head…meddle about,” Helaena says softly, “Sometimes….it’s easy to forget. Time isn’t really the same now. I would walk for hours, waking up so confused.” Her voice trails off before she turns to you. “You’ll look after them. All of them.”

You nod. Of course, you will.

“Helaena….” you say softly, “But how…”

“I’d always been sensitive, even in life,” she says softly, “Kepa called me his dreamer. It followed me in death as well I suppose.” She meets your eyes. “I don’t know who used me to speak with you. Someone here. Another spirit is not ready to show itself. Or perhaps they just don’t want to.” She sighs

You nod, unable to speak.

“I don’t want to leave you here,” Aemond says, “I don’t…I can’t do this without you.”

“It’s alright,” Helaena says, touching his cheek, “I’m here.” She presses a hand to his chest, and he places his on top of hers. “I’m with you. Do you remember what mother always said to us?”

“The invisible string,” Aemond whispers.

“It follows the people we love, connects us,” Helaena says softly, “Whenever you think of me, you pull on that, and no matter where I am, I’ll know. I am not gone. It’s just different now. But I’ll always be with you.” She smiles, “Avy jorrāelan.”

Aemond smiles through his tears, a soft laugh breaking through. He kisses the back of his sister’s hand.

“Avy jorrāelan,” he says softly, “So much, Helaena, so much.”

She presses her hand against his cheek.

“Kepus?” Jaehaera’s voice calls, “Miss Gevie?”

Helaena smiles softly at the sound of her daughter’s voice. Jaehaera enters the library, eyes widening at the sight. Helaena walks over to her, kneeling.

“It’s time for me to go,” she says softly.

“I don’t want you to,” Jaehara says, her voice small, “Alys said…she said we could all stay.”

“No,” Helaena says, voice soft but firm, “No, you, my sweet girl, must go.” She brushes some hair from Jaehaera’s face, tears welling in her eyes, “There is so much world for you to see. So much life for you to live.”

“But what about you?” Jaehaera asks, tears falling down her cheeks, “What about you muña?”

Helaena smiles through her tears, her voice breaking, “My journey ends here.”

“No!” Jaehaera insists, stomping her foot.

Helaena presses a hand to her heart, bringing the other to Jaehaera’s. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you inhale a ragged breath and Aemond takes your hand in his. You hadn’t realized you were crying as well until he wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I am always with you,” she says softly, “Do you hear me? Always.”

Jaehaera places her hand on top of Helaena’s nodding despite her tears. Helaena pulls her close, embracing her tightly, kissing the top of her head, and smoothing her hair. She whispers something you do not catch.

Jaehaera kisses her mother’s cheek before hurrying over to you. She hugs your legs, holding on tightly.

“Let Rhaenyra have the house,” Helaena tells Aemond, “Tell Daemon. If it is Harrenhal they truly want, give it to them. This family has seen enough fighting for a lifetime.”

Aemond lowers his head.

Helaena turns suddenly, eyes bright.

“I hear him again,” she says smiling, “He likes to hide, but I always find him.” She turns back to you all one final time, “We’ll be okay Aemond. Alys and I, we’ll look after one another. Be happy.”

Aemond stifles a sob and Helaena is gone. Jaehaera clings to you, pressing further against you and the three of you sink to the floor, holding onto one another.

A Few Weeks Later

Summerhall house is bright; the walls of the first floor are made entirely of windows that overlook the mountains and the Dornish Marches. The air is turning colder with the promise of autumn, but that hasn’t stopped Jaehaera from playing outdoors.

A soft meow makes you glance down as Morghul rubs against your calf. The black kitten meows once more before softly padding down the steps and into the grass. She appeared to Jaehaera soon after relocating to Summerhal, never straying far from her side.

A swing hangs from a large oak tree and she loves to play on it. Though now she rests below the trunk of the tree. You’ll check on her in a moment, once Maelor’s eyes flutter shut and you pass him into Aemond’s arms.

You rise from your seat on the porch and walk down the steps. The grass is warm and soft under your bare feet. The afternoon sunlight bathes the yard in warm golden light.

“Everything alright?” you ask Jaehaera who simply smiles, showing you what she’d found.

“A spider,” she says, “I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

“No?”

“Muña wouldn’t want me to be afraid.”

You smile, watching as she releases the creature against the trunk of the tree, watching as it scurries away.

“No,” you agree, placing a kiss on top of Jaehaera’s head, “I suppose she wouldn’t.”

Jaehaera returns to her swing and asks you to push her. You agree, letting her laughter wash over you. You understand Helaena more and more each day. You only want them to be happy, only want them to be safe and loved.

The world may be full of unknowns, but you and Aemond are not. Here, with you they are safe, they are loved.

This may be enough.

note: As always when I finish a series thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! For reading my work, for your lovely reblogs, and for your thoughtful comments, I cannot thank you enough for your love and support! This has been an absolute blast to write and share with you! Until next time besties, I love you all so much, and Happy Halloween! 🎃

bold means I could not tag!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 🖤

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mikeslawyer · 1 year ago

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i’ve been meaning to tell you

i think your house is haunted

#this scene makes me wanna shrivel up and die #he’s so. i love him.#byler #byler swifties #mike wheeler #byler endgame #stranger things #byler is canon #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #byler tumblr

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leilakisakabiri · 1 year ago

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Haunted House (Gavi)

Summary: You’re Gavi’s hometown friend and connect after months apart. One thing leads to another and soon you’re acting a little too friendly in a haunted house.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Surprise it’s me! I’ve missed you guys so much. Here’s a draft I had from a while ago. I heard there was a little Gavi drought so I’m here to provide. Also working on new stuff right now. Getting to requests soon!

Word Count: 2k+

Masterlist

“Oh my god, you’ve grown so much!” You exclaimed, hugging Gavi as you got off the train.

“Shut up Y/n. You saw me last summer.”

“No seriously. Last time you were down here.” You retorted, moving your hand down near your shoulder to show how short he once was.

He let out a dry laugh, “Haha. Well, I’m still taller than you.”

“By an inch. And I’m a girl!”

“Wow I thought you were all about feminism Y/n wha-,”

You hit his shoulder in annoyance, cutting him off, “Not like that! I mean I’m on the taller side for girls, and you’re on the..” you trailed off a smile taking over your face as you saw him give you the dirtiest side-eye.

It was October in Barcelona and Autumn was in full swing. The wind wrapped around the both of you as you walked, the leaves falling encompassing the city in shades of orange and brown. The air was crisp, and the smell of hazelnut and toffee wafted through the air from various street vendors.

You finally approached your destination and you let out a squeal seeing how massive it was, “Holy shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger haunted house!”

You felt Gavi stiffen beside you, “Yeah it looked a lot smaller in the photos.”

You turned to look at him, eyes gleaming, “Oh c’mon tell me you’re not scared.”

“Pfft. What no way!”

You narrowed your eyes at him but let it slide.

“Let’s go.” You said grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Once you had made it through the queue and got your tickets, the reality of the situation began to set it in.

The two of you were at Barcelona’s scariest and most famous haunted house. In years past attendees had fled the property saying they were too shocked and mentally scarred to recall what they saw. People had speculated for years that those customers had been paid off, and you believed it, now, however, standing in front of the gloomy house you were beginning to realize there could have been some truth to the story after all.

You were always a big fan of anything scary – after all Halloween was your favorite holiday for a reason. You were known in your friend group as the only one that would willingly watch horror movies, and play ‘supernatural’ games, always interested in the slightly darker things in life. However, even you, who could handle all of that, were a wee bit scared of the haunted house in front of you.

It was one thing to watch movies where you could predict what was going to happen, and yell at the main character through the screen, but to actually live through it, where someone could jump out at you around every turn was a little unnerving.

Especially since you were going with Gavi, someone who was notoriously known for avoiding those types of things at all costs. The only reason Gavi had agreed to come with you was because he had been asking you to come to Barcelona for weeks and this was the only way you would make the trip up. A compromise you could say. But now even you were wishing you took up Gavi’s offer to go to the aquarium instead.

The worker operating the front of the house called you over, pulling you from your thoughts.

“2?” He asked.

You both nodded, and he opened the door allowing you to enter.

You were greeted with a vast entry room with ceilings extending about 30 feet up and walls covered in cobwebs. The only light source was a barely there candlelight flickering in and out.

The monitor in front of you started playing. It explained the rules of the haunted house, and you felt yourself become more nervous once they started talking about the former customers they had tormented hard enough into leaving.

Suddenly the monitor cut off, leaving only the candlelight as a light source. You both watched as a new door creaked open.

You felt your palms begin to sweat.

You both stood rooted in place.

“Gavi,” You finally spoke, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of scared.”

Gavi whipped his head to look at you, panic already visible in his eyes, “Wait what?! Don’t say that Y/n, I’m already scared! You said you liked haunted houses!” He exclaimed.

You pursed your lips, “I usually do, but I feel on edge.”

The candlelight flickered off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness aside from the green glow of the open door.

“Oh shit Y/n I knew this was a bad idea. Fuck, what do we-?”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before a man with a chainsaw and a painted clown face jumped at him, sending the boy into overdrive.

He screamed, hands scrambling to grab your body as he rushed forward into the green glow, desperate to escape the killer clown.

Gavi’s scream set you into a fit of laughter, and you let yourself be tugged by him, too weak from laughing to stop him.

“Joder I swear I just went into cardiac arrest.” He said letting go of you and catching his breath.

You contained your laughter, only a few giggles escaping, beginning to feel at ease again now that the haunted house had officially begun.

“At least the first scare out of the way! The first one is always the scariest!” You said brightly walking forward, further into the house.

You felt him mutter something behind you, probably about how you were such a good friend for caring so much about him, but you didn’t give it a second thought too engrossed in the house.

You continued walking as random creatures jumped out of broken windows and walls trying to grab you, but you were quick to sidestep them. You noticed Gavi walking extremely close behind you to the point where you were sure that if you let your foot rest for a second longer on the ground he would step on it.

You finally stopped when you could feel him breathing down your neck, the little puffs of warm air sending tingles down your spine.

“Y/n don’t make fun of me but I’m kinda scared.”

You just stared at him.

“Ok maybe really scared. This isn’t good for me you know, I have training I can’t be getting my blood pressure up like this.” He persisted.

You groaned, “Oh my god – fine just hold my hand.” You tried to remain annoyed but you couldn’t stop the flutter in your stomach when his warm hand enveloped yours.

You stared at each other and you debated saying something before the moment was cut short by Gavi’s shrill scream, having gotten scared by an actor that jumped out of the wall.

You pulled him along with you as you entered a vortex tunnel with a faulty bridge.

“Nope. No way, I’m going to have an aneurysm.” Gavi spoke once seeing the path, trying to pull his hand away but you held on tighter.

“There’s only one way to go. Just close your eyes and give me your other hand.” You argued.

He groaned but did as he was told, “I hate you.” He muttered as you moved to grab his other hand and put both over your shoulders standing in front of him.

“Oh please you love me.” You smirked, starting to make your way through the tunnel.

He didn’t answer but you felt his grip on your hands tighten and you smiled softly.

You were almost done with the tunnel when you abruptly stopped causing Gavi to run into you.

“Why are we stopping?” He asked.

You bit your lip, not wanting to admit the truth.

“What? Is it that scary?” He questioned opening his eyes.

“I don’t see anything?”

“There’s a bird.” You whispered, eyes never leaving the small bird flying manically around the hallway, seemingly trying to find its way out after getting trapped.

“Y/n Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of birds.” Gavi shook his head smiling.

You sneered, “Of course I am. Those things are demonic.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics.

You had been terrified of birds since the day you were born, anything that could fly, peck, and chase you scared the shit out of you. And now the fact that a bird was flying around frantically, in an enclosed space, that you had to walk through- oh shit, you were going to die here because there was no way you were walking past that bird on your own free will.

“Please keep moving.” An operator’s voice sounded.

You groaned, putting your head in your hands as you decided what to do.

“Y/n we have to go.” Gavi urged, attempting to move you forward but you stood still.

“Just give me a second.”

“Here I’ll hold you, ok? That way the bird can’t get to your eyes. Only mine.” Gavi spoke.

You laughed at his weak excuse for a joke, weighing your options, “Fine but if that thing even touches me I’m shoving you into it and running.”

Gavi smiled down at you as he wrapped an arm around you, “Oh Y/n what a sweetheart you are.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before curling into him, snuggling your face into the side of his sweater, and squeezing your eyes shut so the bird couldn’t claw them out.

He wrapped both arms around you, shielding your head and shoulders from the bird.

You felt the birds squawking get closer and pulled him even closer, “I got you linda relax.”

His voice was soft in your ear, and you focused your attention on him and the beating of his heart rather than the manic bird two inches away.

Once the threat had been cleared you lifted your head in disbelief, “You’re alive! I can’t believe it, I thought for sure the bird would have had one of your eyes at least.”

He gasped at you, his arms loosening around you, as he dropped one, the other sliding to rest on your waist, “Oh please. It wasn’t even bad, poor birdie just couldn’t find the exit.”

“Yeah poor birdie.” You muttered sarcastically.

The rest of the haunted house passed uneventfully, and thankfully there were no more jump scares, saving Gavi from the cardiac arrest he claimed would be happening any day now.

Gavi’s hand stayed around your waist for the remainder of the house and while you could lie and say it was because he was still scared, you knew that the way he was holding you and the way you were leaning into him was a little too friendly to just be because of ‘nerves’.

Once you got to the outside world again you moved away from him, your eyes adjusting to the light.

“Well, thanks for coming with me Gavi.” You said, feeling grateful that your blush had faded when you were still in the dark.

“Woah this again! What’s with Gavi?” He asked you, an irritated look on his face.

Your eyebrows rose in shock, “That’s your name?” You asked confused about why he seemed annoyed.

“No I’m Pablo.�� He said referring to the name that nearly no one called him anymore.

“Pretty sure the whole country knows you as Gavi estupido.” You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to hit his head playfully.

Gavi grabbed your hand, squeezing it, “Yeah but to you, I’m Pablo, ok?” His voice was sincere, and his eyes were shiny and bright.

You gave him a puzzled look, but still squeezed back, “Ok.”

You went to drop your hands, but he caught you by surprise again, holding yours firmly, “I think I like this better. My hand’s a little cold. You know it being fall and all.”

You smiled biting the inside of your cheek to not give yourself away, stay cool Y/n!

You nodded at him, “Oh for sure. Can’t have Barca’s golden boy falling sick.”

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stardustprompts · 1 year ago

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how to sell a haunted house - grady hendrix sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !! some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ; death , alcohol , language , mental health

‘you need to sit down.’

‘what did you do?’

‘jesus, i’m sorry I’m not doing it the right way. i’m sure you’d be perfect at this.’

‘I find knowing these details makes it easier.’

‘you should have a drink, too.’

‘i’m not going to die. not for a long time.’

‘just because we shared a bathroom for fifteen years doesn’t mean you know a thing about me.’

‘my yoga instructor knows more about me than you do.’

‘I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d show up and start telling everyone what to do.’

‘look, I know you need to be in charge, but I’ve taken care of this.’

‘stop telling me how to deal with things. things are dealt with. I dealt with them.’

‘you can’t argue with someone when they’re upset.’

‘I don’t know what got into me, but I overreacted and I’m not proud of if it, and it wasn’t fair to you.’

‘you always needed everyone looking at you.’

‘I didn’t do it for attention. I did it because I was upset.’

‘I don’t like coming in here anyways. it’s got bad vibes.’

‘you can’t put a price tag on love.’

‘being here is really bad for my mental health.’

‘I know you don’t like me because i’m not successful enough for you.’

‘i’m actually happy with my life.’

‘if we aren’t related, if we met today, we wouldn’t chose to be friends.’

‘I don’t think we should be in here at all. I think my plan was better.’

‘don’t you feel the vibes?’

‘this is happening too fast. we need to slow down.’

‘your house is haunted.’

‘every single time I give you the benefit of the doubt, or I try to help, it comes back and bites me in the ass. every! single! time!’

‘our house is not haunted.’

‘i’m telling you there’s weird vibe. I can feel it in my gut.’

‘methinks thou doth protesteth too much.’

‘ghosts don’t exist.’

‘there are true things and there are false things, and there are no in-betweens.’

‘there are facts, like houses and car accidents and cremation, and there’s bullshit like ghosts and vibes and exorcisms. and if you start getting the true things mixed up with the false things, you’re fucked!’

‘reality is not a consensus!’

‘when you don’t like the way a conversation is going you deflect with personal attacks.’

‘you’re like some kind of emotionally abusive octopus entangling everyone in your word tentacles.’

‘even I know that you don’t go back in a haunted house after dark.’

‘the only things here are memories, and those can’t hurt us.’

‘you’re very threatened by new ideas.’

‘I offered to stay tonight because I thought it would be good for you. i’m hoping it gives you some closure.’

‘why are you so mad at me? is it because you feel guilty?’

‘i’m sorry you remember it that way because that must feel terrible, but that’s not what happened.’

‘stop telling me what I remember!’

‘no one ever says no to you, (name) because we’re all scared you’re going to lose your temper.’

‘oh, fuck you. nice try, (name), but fuck you.’

‘no matter what you did, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star. all because you can’t face the fact that your life is sad and empty.’

‘it’s a little late for you to start being my brother now.’

‘you blew my mind. it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.’

‘no matter what, I don’t want to ditch you here with a bunch of ghosts.’

‘right now what you need, for once in your life, is to listen to me.’

‘the way you’re laughing is actually really, really scary.’

‘none of this is real.’

‘stop being scary.’

‘I don’t think I’m well. I think something is really wrong inside me.’

‘don’t you fucking laugh at me. for the first time ever, my life finally makes sense.’

‘I don’t think I know what’s real anymore.’

‘my explanation is logically consistent. yours is all magical energy.’

‘it was absolutely terrifying.’

‘how much trouble are you in?’

‘look at me. you’re not crazy. this really happened.’

‘don’t make this funny.’

everything you’ve seen tonight, i’ve seen it too.’

‘i’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.’

‘it was easier to pretend nothing happened.’

‘my entire life I’ve always known something was wrong with me. i’ve spend my entire life scared that if didn’t do everything exactly right, reality would unravel around me and I’d lose myself again.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘I hope you feel better. i’m fine.’

‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘get out of here.’

‘all the things I did, I want to forget.’

‘i’m not doing it! i’m not doing it again!’

‘you need to get out of here right now.’

‘it won’t hurt me, but it’ll hurt you. you have to go right now!’

‘don’t let him do this again. don’t let him take over.’

‘I need a beer.’

‘an apology would go a long way.’

‘can you keep it down? I had to lie about what happened to a lot of people.’

‘are you seriously upset with me because I saved your life?’

‘you need to accept reality.’

‘you’ve become such a grouch.’

‘I wish you’d let someone take care of you.’

‘do you agree that there are forces greater than this world and we are helpless in the face of them?’

‘we don’t have time to fuck around.’

‘i’d like to say this the weirdest shit that’s ever happened to me but I have a bad feeling it’s about to get a lot worse.’

‘I told you this was a bad idea.’

‘I think we’re fucked.’

‘this is wrong. what you’re doing is wrong.’

‘let’s talk about something that’s actually interesting.’

‘it just hurts a little. and by ‘a little’ I mean ‘a lot’ and also ‘all the time.’’

#rp sentence starters #rp prompts #rp memes #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #horror prompts #horror sentence starters #anna's 31 days of halloween #31 days of halloween: 7 #how to sell a haunted house prompts #how to sell a haunted house sentence starters

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