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cluelessbird · 1 year
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it's barbin' time
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moog-rt · 2 months
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GO TO HELL [ch. 1]
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[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]
Previous: Prologue
➨ Chapter One
Next: Chapter Two
Premise:
You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.
Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.
Warning(s): blood, gore, cannon-typical violence
If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:
Otherwise, enjoy!
♡ ♡ ♡
CHAPTER ONE
Your head throbbed, and cradling it with your hand only turned it into a piercing pain rather than dulling it.
You were careful as you worked to stand up. It was hard to grab hold of anything sturdy enough to support your weight, and upon closer inspection, it turned out you were taking a power nap in a pile of garbage. And, boy, was that shit rank.
You stumbled your way onto solid ground whilst picking gunk-covered plastic from your shirt and hair.
The surroundings that greeted you were unlike anything you could imagine. The sky appeared polluted with red smog so thick you couldn’t see the sun, though it didn’t smell like the kind of pollution you were used to. Rather than chemical, it stank of smoke and decay.
Every breath you took of this new atmosphere felt thick and raspy. You weren’t sure you could really even consider it breathable. You were probably inhaling a handful of carcinogens by the second.
From what you could see through the gap of the two buildings that made up the alley you were in, there was a city. It was as if the materials of the buildings were selected to complement the sky. Everything was a different shade of red or burgundy. The plumes of smoke that tunneled up in the distance were mildly concerning, though they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.
It was all enough to drive a clear sense of dread through your gut. No way in Hell were you supposed to be here. You should be on your way to Devon’s place- No, you were at Devon’s place, in their living room.
And now you were…well, you didn’t really know. That was kind of the problem.
The panic only truly set in after you tripped, scraping your knees on the filthy cement. You didn’t want to know what caused that dark brown, slightly chunky stain. Turning to face the lump that caused your stumble, your stomach plummeted. Face paled.
That was a corpse. A whole not-so-human corpse. Mangled and lying motionless in a pool of blood that was beginning to dry.
In an instant, you threw yourself off of the ground, backpedaling away from the body. What on Earth could have caused their limbs to bend in so many directions? On second thought, you hoped it would stay a mystery.
You couldn’t ruminate on it for long before you felt something large grab your shoulder, hoisting you around so your back was facing the alley. You winced as the grip grew tighter and looked up to see a green-skinned man with jagged teeth protruding from his mouth. 
In that instant, it felt as if your heart had been launched a thousand feet in the air.
His pitch-black eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to your face, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move or utter a single word. His grip moved to your neck, turning your head around so he could see you from every angle. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, he brought his nose to your cheek and inhaled deeply.
“A human,” he said in a grumbly voice. You could see a corner of his lips curl into a wicked smile. “That’s a first. It’d be a shame to let you go to waste.”
Go. You had to go.
To have a freeze-response in a situation like this was a death sentence. You hadn’t the slightest clue what this man’s–this thing’s–intentions were with you, but you had an inkling that it wouldn’t be pleasant.
You had to move. Even if it was just an inch, just enough to convince yourself that you still could. You would take either fight or flight over this.
“Is that soul still living?”
Your eyes flicked over to the source of the new voice. A tall, reptilian-looking creature with eyes that seemed to be bugging out of its head. They were no more comforting than the man who was only a few inches away from strangling you.
“Fuck off! I found ‘er. She’s mine!” Apparently, the lizard-man was enough to draw your assailant’s attention away from you.
Lizard-man did not in fact fuck off. That response was the confirmation that only further drew him in. Looking around, you noticed other inhuman creatures turning their attention toward the three of you.
The lizard-man made a sudden lunge for you, digging claws into the green man’s arms. He hollered out in pain with an endless string of curses.
In that moment, you felt his grip on you loosen, and you dropped to the ground like dead weight. This was your chance. Likely your only chance before both of them pounced on you at once. Maybe more by the looks of the other creatures closing in, as well.
Relief washed over you as you slowly moved your arm to push you up. The mental confines over your body had been released, and just in time. You were able to clumsily roll out of the way as the men threw each other to the ground, and with wobbly legs, you promptly hauled ass out of there.
You could hear screams of rage and surprise as you shoved through the people on the street, apologizing occasionally. You could feel dozens of pairs of eyes burning into the back of your head, and you were almost certain that some had given chase.
The odd buildings blurred past you. You may have caught a glimpse of a shop with televisions on display and another that looked as though human limbs were hanging on meat hooks, but this was no time for window shopping. All of it caused your head to spin from both physical and emotional whiplash.
The first corner you turned revealed a massive light-up sign that towered above everything else with text saying, “Welcome to Hell.”
What kind of twisted joke was this?
You ducked into another alleyway. Nobody was around, but you could still hear yelling close behind you. Your heart felt as though it stopped for a second as you took notice of a massive barricade blocking off the only exit. The first sliver of your luck finally showed itself to you in the form of a small gap that could be just big enough for you to fit.
You were forced to slow down in order to wiggle your way through it, allowing your pursuers to catch up. Just when you thought you had cleared the blockade, that big green hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you back.
You cried out and pulled as much as you could until your foot slid out of your sock, successfully freeing you. Padding barefoot through this wretched city wouldn’t be pleasant, but you were sure it was better than whatever those things had planned for you.
As you pushed back into a sprint, you heard the green man’s voice screaming at the others about how he wouldn’t let them through before him. That was fine by you. He was much too big to fit through that hole, and you doubted he could scale the wall completely. If he was dead set on not letting anyone pass before him, then you probably had all the time in the world. Even so, you wouldn’t feel safe until you could get as far as your legs could carry you. 
So, ignoring your burning lungs and pounding heart, you pushed forward. Through the streets that grew more and more disheveled, collapsed buildings, cracked and upheaved asphalt roads. The lack of shoes only made it that much worse as your feet were getting sore. You were slowing down, but you refused to stop until you found someplace suitable to take refuge.
After the last main row of the city, there was a hill. And on top of that hill, there was a hotel.
Or so the sign on it said. Happy Hotel.
You could tell it was probably supposed to light up, but it wasn’t on, either because it was daytime (you assumed) or the bulbs were burnt out. Both seemed equally likely. The place was massive but appeared to be a hodgepodge of things all shoved into one, a cruise ship crashed into one side, a train on top of the roof… But despite its general run-down appearance, the stained glass windows remained untouched as if they were brand new.
It would be a gamble on whether this place was inhabited or not, but at least it was out of that shit show of a city. Probably the safest thing you’d come across thus far.
Besides, it was a hotel. Maybe you still had one of your cards in your pocket. If not, there was always Apple Pay, right?
The final push up the hill really did you in, leaving you panting and covered in sweat at the front door. You were dying to sit down and rest, but you wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so until you were inside. 
Seeing the building up close left you even more confused about whether or not the place was still running. The majority of the double front doors were stained glass with an apple shape in the center of each. It was quite beautiful. But at the same time, the edges of the frame appeared chipped and rotted, showing the building’s true age.
You were just thankful when the door creaked open without a fight. You didn’t want to resort to breaking in through one of those wonderful windows. With how loud it would be, you might as well scream out your arrival.
Aside from some of the detailed woodwork and repetitive apple iconography, the inside of the hotel was a bit sad to put it frankly. Little to no furniture. Cobwebs coating everything. The chandelier holding on by a thread (maybe the cobwebs were preventing it from falling). There was a minifridge, though!
You couldn’t imagine you would be lucky enough to find a cold bottle of water in there, but you decided to check to be sure. The cool air alone, wafting out as you opened its door, alleviated some of your discomfort. Unfortunately, there was no water or any beverage, for that matter. Inside were a couple of applesauce(?) cups and a styrofoam take-out container.
The fact that there was anything at all was concerning as it was a bit of confirmation there were already inhabitants. You would need to keep looking for a safe place to stay unless they ended up being the odd few in this town that weren’t out for blood.
On cue, cool metal prodded the back of your neck as you were closing the fridge, and you froze.
“What are you doing here?” asked the person behind you. Their voice was cold and harsh, and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. So much for going unscathed.
“I was just looking for somewhere to rest. I’m sorry for intruding,” you said just above a whisper, raising your hands instinctively. 
“You want to stay here?” a chipper voice cut through the air, echoing a bit in the large, empty foyer. They sounded almost happy you were trespassing. “Vaggie, this could be our first guest!”
“Babe, the hotel isn’t even open yet,” the first voice sighed before the metal was pulled away from your skin. You took that as an invitation to turn around.
Before you stood two young women–you’d guess late teens or early twenties. They were the most human-like people you had the pleasure of coming across since waking up in a hot pile of garbage. The only thing that threw you off was their grey and porcelain white skin tones. It was as if they were pulled out of a black-and-white movie from the ‘50s.
You’d take what you could get at this point. At least they didn’t have scales.
“We’ll just have to move up our grand opening then,” the taller girl sang with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. She bounded over to you, squatting down to meet you at eye level. “Would you be interested in a shot at redemption? It doesn’t matter what you’ve stolen or who you’ve murdered. Everyone deserves a second chance!”
Was this chick for real? What did redemption have to do with a hotel? And why would you need to be redeemed?
Your mouth hung open as your eyes bobbed between the two strangers.
“Wait a second…” The shorter girl–who you realized was the one holding a fucking spear to your neck–suddenly went wide-eyed. “You’re a human. Jesus, she’s a human!”
The blonde stared at her for a moment before turning back to you with knit eyebrows.
“Really? How do you know?” she asked with a tilt of her head as her eyes darted all over you, looking for some tell-tale sign of your humanity.
In what world is it surprising to see a human? You hadn’t been shipped to Mars. That you were certain of. 
Then you came to your own realization. 
Devon must have drugged you! That was the only way this could make any sense. Was it acid? LSD? You’d have to ask them after you sobered up. Or maybe after you wring their scrawny little neck, because the therapy you’d need after this was sure to cost a fortune.
The hand that landed on your shoulder caused you to flinch. The shorter girl–Vaggie–was kneeling in front of you now. Her touch was delicate as if she was worried she’d break you if she put enough pressure. A stark contrast to the way she treated you a minute ago.
“How did you get here?” she asked in a much softer tone than earlier.
You let out a huff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh. You smiled, shaking your head as your body slumped back against the fridge.
“I don’t even know where here is,” you laughed. “I was in my friend’s apartment one second and being hunted down by a mob of demons the next.”
The two exchanged a look before helping you to your feet. They settled you down on a couch, one of the few pieces of furniture they had, and got you a glass of water to sip on. The scrapes and cuts you had gotten during your chase, or possibly before it, were treated to, as well. The foot that lost its sock was particularly nasty.
They introduced themselves and explained that you were in Hell. You reckon you should have figured that one out from the big-ass sign you saw while running for your life.
In return, you told them the last few things you could remember before ending up here. Helping your friend with a demon-summoning ritual and getting dragged through a glowing hole in the ground as a result.
“Sounds like that backfired a bit,” Vaggie said. You couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah, a bit. That’s what I get for doing my friend a solid, I guess,” you shrugged, leaning back as you gulped down more of the water. 
“Oh, don’t say that. At the end of the day, you helped a friend, and you found us! And we’ll definitely make sure you get home safe and sound,” Charlie grinned as she gently placed a hand on your knee.
You gave a small smile in return. You’re not sure how much you believed in her words, but it was sweet of her to try to reassure you. Her hope was almost infectious, and you could use as much of that as you could get.
“Also, you’re totally welcome to stay here for as long as you need! We’ve got plenty of rooms, and I’m sure we’ll start getting more furniture soon, and if there’s any food you’d like us to get, we can–”
“Baby, slow down,” Vaggie chuckled.
“Sorry…I guess I’m just really excited. You would be our first guest, and I’ve also never seen a human other than my mom before, and even she’s a special case…” Charlie said, looking off to the side as she brushed a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.
“The only humans we technically have are the ones that die and are deemed sinners,” Vaggie explained. “But they take on a new appearance. Usually, it reflects something within their soul.”
Huh.
“That’s…interesting,” you said, eyebrows tightly furrowed together. What does being a lizard man say about that dude’s soul? And what about being green? Maybe it was his favorite color? Or maybe he was green with envy. Haha.
“So what do you say?”
You looked at Charlie to see her holding her hand out to you. If the two of you were making a deal, she wasn’t really getting anything out of it. It was pure charity work…
“Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you in return,” you said, taking her hand.
With that, the two young women gave you a brief tour of the hotel. It was still a work in progress, but you could see Charlie’s vision. If they just cleaned it up a bit and filled in the space, it would look livable. You would be more than happy to help with that if you ended up spending enough time there, though you hoped it wouldn’t take that long.
If you weren’t back soon, your place would start getting cobwebs. You also couldn’t miss too many days of work…PTO wasn’t infinite, and you had bills to pay. Your coworkers would also have it out for you if you left them short-staffed.
What if they started putting up missing flyers? Hopefully, they wouldn’t blame the coworker you convinced to go home early. She was the last person you were spotted with in public, after all. No one knew you were going to Devon’s, so it was unlikely they’d take the blame.
Maybe the guy you had been in a situationship with for the last several months would be their suspect. Most of your friends knew all about him (primarily because you’d bitch and whine so much), and it’s not uncommon for people to point fingers at the ‘partner.’
He raised a few red flags here and there, sure, but what man hasn’t? None of them were even close to kidnap-murder level. Mostly just picking his toes in public and swearing on his life that his exes were the crazy ones, not him. Nothing necessarily surprising.
You needed to stop worrying and start embodying Charlie’s confidence in the situation. You would find a way to get back. You would not be stuck in Hell long enough to raise alarm. You just had to manifest it!
Eventually, your hosts showed you to the room you could stay in. It was one of the few furnished ones besides their room at the moment. They also gave you a change of clothes after realizing just how dirty (and smelly) yours were after waking up in a trash heap. Plus, you had two socks again!
You met back up with them in the foyer when you were finished. They wanted to discuss possible ways you could get out of Hell, which you had absolutely no problem with. The two of them brainstormed for a bit while you just sat back and listened in. Vaggie brought up that some upper-class ‘hellborns’ had ways in and out of Hell, but she didn’t have any specifics.
You felt bad not contributing, but what did you know about traveling between the living world and Hell? Jack, that’s what. 
“Do you think your dad would know? He’s probably had to get to Earth for some reason or another, yeah?” Vaggie asked, but she was met with a grumble of a response.
“I don’t know…” Charlie said with a frown, all her hopeful energy zapped away in an instant. “He’s never been super helpful with stuff like this.”
“Come on, babe. If anybody would know, it would be him,” Vaggie pressed. “He’s gotta have something we could use.”
Charlie simply groaned as she threw her upper body over the arm of the sofa and sat like that for a minute or two. It was possible that she wasn’t on very good terms with her father. Or he was just exasperating to deal with.
You sent a worried look at Vaggie, because what were you supposed to do in this situation?
“Okay, yeah. We can swing by my old house tomorrow and poke around,” Charlie said as she stood up.
“Great, but you,” Vaggie jabbed her finger in your direction. “Get ready to wake up bright and early. We’ll have to make you presentable first.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Next Chapter
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fuwanek0 · 1 year
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airflyer149 · 3 months
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the (brain)rot is consuming
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starrierknight · 6 months
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⇢ ˗ ˏ ˋ ⋆ ✧ ・゚ 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
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wc— 240 cws/tags— AFAB reader, creampie, cum eating, finger sucking, gagging, dacryphilia, face riding
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thinking about satoru cumming inside you and he's got the stupid, self-satisfied grin on his face. so he rolls onto his back, preparing to just lounge with you in bed when you dip your fingers between your thighs, making them slick with that warm, sticky mess of your cum and his and shove your fingers into his mouth and down his throat. making him taste the mess he's left in you, pumping your fingers in and out of that pretty, pink mouth.
oh, and if it wasn't raw from screaming your name before, it is now as your fingers spitefully drag down the wet walls of his throat, making him gag and moan and sob. thick, pearly tears welling up in those pretty blue eyes as you force him to take everything that'd he'd just given you...
and just when he thinks he's catching a break as you retract your hand, and he gasps for breath—just before he can pout and bitch and moan about how fucking mean you are to him—you sit on his face.
watching with depraved interest as he's starved for air as you fuck that foul mouth of his, listening to those sinfully hushed moans as he laps his own cum from your pussy and swallows it. after all, how could you let him get away with making a mess if he wasn't going to clean it all up? not even a drop goes to waste.
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this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.
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bucketsofmonsters · 6 months
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The Witch's Apprentice - Part 7
cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, agoraphobia, depression, more tags will be added as the story continues
male demon x afab reader
Word count: 3k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
You woke up alone and felt anything but. The distant buzz of people outside, on the streets, bustling about the hallways of the inn, felt suffocating. It all seemed so loud now, so deafening. 
Lucien appeared in front of you, giving you a quiet “Good morning,” and suddenly, it wasn’t loud at all, his voice cutting through the hum that had seemed deafening moments before. 
“How’re you doing?” he asked as you blinked up at him from your seat on the bed. 
Was his voice quieter than usual? Or maybe that was just how people sounded with the constant buzz of a city in the background. 
“I don’t have any stuff,” you said. It was a trivial complaint, you knew that, but you wanted something to hold onto. Anything that was yours, that wasn’t so foreign. 
He laughed and it felt cruel. You knew it shouldn't, that he was trying to help, but it felt cruel that he was allowed to do that right now, while you felt like you’d been broken into pieces. “We’ll get you new stuff, don’t worry about that.”
Like it was that simple. Like you could just get new stuff and move on. 
It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. He was the reason you were still here. But some part of you; some unsnuffable, horrible little instinct; wanted to blame him. Without him, you would still be home. Without him, nothing would have changed. 
“I just���” you began, with no idea how to articulate any of this to him. 
And then, with the most distressed expression you’d ever seen from him, he interrupted you and said, “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
And that was it. He faded away and you were alone again. 
You hated the deafening roar of the city he left you with. 
At least when he was here, you could pretend things would be okay. 
You didn’t have anything left. Anything but him. At least when he was in front of you, you had something to cling to. 
Hours passed before he reappeared in front of you. When he did, you didn’t manage to get a word out before a string of curse words escaped him and he faded out of existence again. 
You barely even moved as you waited for him. What would you do anyway? You had nothing to do but wait, so that’s what you did, patiently and quietly, on the bed he’d found for you. 
It was a shorter wait this time, under an hour if you had to guess. 
“Where do you keep going?” you asked as he solidified in the space in front of you. It was slower without you summoning him, like he had to put real effort into coming to you. 
A pained expression flashed across his face, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “I’m being summoned.”
“So often? You’re a popular demon,” you said it with the cadence of a joke, but neither of you found it particularly funny. 
“Summonings go through phases,” he said with a sigh. “Names get discovered or obtain reputations. I was too nice for a while, people got comfortable, so I get called upon a lot these days. I’m rectifying my mistake. Hopefully, my name will start to come with a bad taste in people’s mouths in a few decades.”
“Oh. Good luck with that, I guess.”
“Thank you. It’s been going pretty well. Only one major lapse in my judgment,” he said with a pointed look in your direction. 
You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “I promise to tell everyone you were real mean to me. Very scary, the scariest demon you could imagine.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. “Good. My reputation may survive this little affair yet. Now, what have you been up to?”
Your eyes flicked around as you searched for an answer that wouldn’t sound horribly tragic. 
He didn’t wait for you to find one before butting in at your obvious distress. “Come on, you don’t need to wait around for me. You haven’t had the chance to do anything in years, go talk to someone or something.”
You shrugged. “I’m fine where I am.”
He looked you up and down, evaluating you as you shrunk away from him. “What is it? Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened. I’m just fine in here.”
His eyes narrowed and you couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe you. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to understand. Surely anyone would be hesitant to go back out into the world after being stowed safely away for so long. 
“Something happened,” he said, no longer a question and entirely incorrect.
“It really didn’t. Actually, as long as we’re talking about it, I was thinking. I probably shouldn’t be here at all. I mean, I’m not doing much here. I could always stay in hell with you. It would be easier that way.”
“No,” he snapped, and you flinched back at his harsh tone. “No,” he said again, softer this time, a quiet correction. “I will not let you just lock yourself away again. I will not be your new Eden.”
“I wasn’t asking you to be,” you lied, unconvincing even to yourself.
“You’ll be fine. Just go, talk to someone, get some fresh air. It’ll get easier.”
He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, just how impossible it was. 
“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about me.”
He gave you an unmistakably worried look as he said, “Alright, I won’t. I just think that… shit.”
“Is it happening again?”
“Just go do something. I’ll be back when I can.”
As you laid down in bed, with no intention to go out and doing anything, you wondered just how often he got summoned. You’d never really considered it before. You knew it happened of course, but you’d never put real thought into it past how frustrating of an experience it must be for him. 
What would happen if two people tried to summon him at once? Would it hurt? Rip him in two? You doubted that any of the witches summoning him had considered it either. 
And what other things was he being forced to do out there? Surely Eden wasn’t the worst witch he’d ever encountered. What other horrible things weighed on him every day, that he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for?  
As time ticked on, another thought wormed its way into your head. Maybe he wasn’t being summoned at all. He’d never had to leave this often before he’d helped you make your daring escape and now he could barely stay with you for more than a few minutes. 
It made sense. He’d done what he wanted to do. He’d freed you from the trap he was forced to lay. His part in this should be over, his guilt assuaged, if it weren’t for the way you clung to him like a lifeline. 
The thoughts swam around your head until he appeared once more, looking irritated, eyes distant and cold. 
The spark of insecurity in you couldn’t be snuffed out any longer, not even in the face of his bad mood. 
“Are you actually being summoned?” you blurted out. “Because if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.” You knew it wasn’t true, that you needed him, but still couldn’t stomach the idea of him forcing himself to be here. “I thought we were friends but maybe that was naive. Is it just guilt? Is that what all of this was?”
He sighed, his hands rising to rub at his temples. “It's not... I don't know. Maybe at the beginning. I wanted you to be bad. I needed you to be. And you weren’t and it was the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quiet and broken and completely genuine. 
“You really are, aren’t you? Sorry for what? Sorry for not being awful?”
“Well, not…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You just knew that you were sorry. “I just meant, sorry for making things worse for you. That’s all.”
“You didn’t make anything worse, not in the long run. I like you. I’m glad you got out of there. It’s just that right at the start I needed you to be a bad person so I didn't feel so fucking guilty. I hate doing this, you know. Being so cruel. Especially to people like you. But if I don’t things get so much worse.”
“You’re not cruel,” you said, knowing it was true and yet somehow, deep down, knowing it was the last thing he wanted to hear. 
“I didn’t used to be. That’s the rule. My new rule. No more being nice to the inexperienced ones. Witches like yours don’t give you opportunities to lash out so if you want to establish a reputation, you have to be cruel when you can be. Every single time they give you the chance. When the little witches summoning their first monster give you an opening, you strike. That way the next one thinks twice when they see your name in some summoning book.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Feels awful too. But nothing feels worse than being forced to do even crueler things so you do what you can. Lesser of two evils.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” you said, knowing exactly what crueler things were flashing through his distant eyes. 
“Maybe not. Still wouldn’t have happened without me. You weren’t the first, you know. You were the first victim she kept, sure, but not the first one who fell prey to that damn forest. You’ve probably seen what’s left of some of them, some bones and remains of them in various forms. She got plenty of use out of them, I’ll give her that much”
Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke and your mind pulled back to the various bones and bits of gore in jars that you’d tended to and organized for her over the years. You’d never thought about them before, not really. Even trying to remember them, it was like a haze began to form in your mind, a buzzing pain starting to settle in over the distant images. 
You started to fall to the side before the feeling of a warm hand on your arm brought you out of your head. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling back far too soon. “I’m sure she’s tainted most of your memories of anything she didn’t want you to see. It’s probably best to not try and look back.”
Now you had one more thing to mourn, even the memories of your home being ripped away from you. How cruel that you weren’t even allowed to keep those in this strange new place. 
“Right. I’ll do my best.”
He nodded. “I know you will. You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing really well.”
It was a kind lie. You appreciated him for trying to tell it.  
And then you were alone again. 
You did try leaving this place. You swore you did, despite knowing in the back of your head that you couldn’t do it. 
You peeked out the window on the tips of your toes down at unfamiliar faces on the street and stood at the door, pretending you knew how to steel yourself for the task ahead.
At the very least it was something to do with yourself when Lucien was away, gone to a summoning or back to hell or just living his life, doing things he refused to speak about with you, always keeping you at arms length. 
But that was unfair. He was there when he could be during the day, when some other witch didn’t whisk him away against his will to do whatever they pleased. 
He never spoke to you about it, about what they asked him to do. Every time you tried he got very quiet and then began to push back, asking you when you’d go outside. 
Nothing quieted you faster than that. 
At night he was always gone. 
At night you were small again. 
You hated sleeping, avoided it whenever you could. You were terrified of the dreams that might come. You’d honestly welcome a nightmare at this point. Your biggest fear was you would dream of home. Your biggest fear was waking up again after. 
Instead, you just stared at the wall every night, waiting for it to be morning so you could wait for Lucien again. 
A thud pulled you from your trance and your head jerked up towards the window just in time to see a bird falling to the ground below after having slammed into the glass it’s little mind couldn't comprehend. 
You were moving before you even had time to think. It was for the best, you weren’t sure you could’ve managed it if you’d had to think it through, to force yourself to get up and go check on the poor creature. 
You held your breath as you walked out the door of your room, freezing for a moment. You weren’t sure what you expected to happen. 
A woman walked by you, turning to the side and slipping by where you were blocking the hallway with a quiet, “Excuse me, love.”
There was a pressure building in your head, behind your eyes, closing your throat. This foreign air felt toxic, a bile rising inside of you. 
A gentle hand settled on your back and you practically jumped out of your skin to get away from it. 
You bolted at the contact, frightened, flighty. Darted not back inside but through the halls until you found a way outside, running around the perimeter of the building until you found it. 
It was a small, unassuming brown bird, crumpled on the ground, an injured wing tucked under itself. 
You picked it up as gently as you could, cradling it in the palms of your hands. 
Every instinct you had wanted you to run back and hide. Instead, you walked slowly, carefully, trying not to jostle the poor creature too much. 
The woman was no longer in the hall, having left at some point after you’d fled from her. Some part of you felt bad, hoped you hadn’t hurt her feelings or left her worried. 
Most of your attention was on the bird. 
You had no idea how to help it, would have to ask Lucien tomorrow. You were terrified to touch the bent wing, to make it worse than it already was. Even attempting to set it would hurt the poor creature and you couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of inflicting any more pain. 
You did what you could, forming a little bed to rest it in for the night, a little nest out of towels and pillows. 
It was almost funny in a way. A makeshift nest inside of your makeshift nest. You were no better off than this frightened, wounded little creature. 
At least maybe, someday, it could get out of here. 
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alaboadoa · 8 months
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yours, truly
pair. itoshi sae x gn!reader
content: suggestive but nothing explicitly nsfw! angst (kinda) and comfort, heavy narration, mutual pining (sae is bad at feelings lol), implied childhood friends to lovers
synopsis. sae was always afraid of those three words. he's broken, after all. how do you love when you are unlovable?
wc. 1.4k
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i love you should be simple.
unfortunately, loving a man like sae was never meant to be peaceful.
it was always catastrophic—the way fire licks skin, the place where lightning and thunder meet, the expansive sea opening up to swallow you whole.
he was just like that, you suppose. closed off from the world in a way that you could not heal even if you tried your best to kiss the wounds away. he was never the type to open up about feelings. and he's never been sentimental, either.
being touchy-feely and sentimental are signs of weakness. the last thing itoshi sae wants to be called is weak.
the first time he offered up his heart on a silver platter, beating and bloody and raw, it was trampled into the ground. stomped out by the heel of someone who had seen him in his most vulnerable moments. it was just some fling in spain; he's not even sure he can remember their face, but for some reason he wanted to throw up.
he told you about it once in passing, with a coffee in one hand and your groceries in the other (he always insisted on carrying them). and he said it so nonchalantly that you had half a mind to laugh in his face and say "yeah, good one, sae," until he looked at you with a sort of sadness in his eyes that you couldn't forget.
you've quickly learned how to tread on eggshells around him when he was in a bad mood; delicately balancing between his good and bad days—mostly bad, mind you.
you're too patient. too kind to a man so broken. but he's too selfish to care.
he's had his fair share of hardships, maybe more than the average person. definitely more than he could count on all ten of his fingers. and each time life snuffed out whatever little light he had left in him, he became more and more angry.
angry at what? angry at himself. angry at the universe. filled to the brim with this rage that he couldn't tame. it's made him cold and detached and starved for warmth.
it was the natural progression of life that filled him with this greed and hunger. he craved for something to finally be his.
he can't love without it being disastrous anymore. it’s almost as if he needs something to fill in the gaps in his heart where fate has so brutally stolen from him; his career, his dreams, his brother.
he was thirteen when he left japan. he was eighteen when he came home. he was thirteen when he said goodbye to you in that airport. he was eighteen when he finally felt like he could breathe again.
but even with your fingers in his hair and your lips against his and the world finally coming to a halt for the first time since he was a child, he couldn't say it.
i love you should be simple. it should come as easy as a heartbeat. for sae it’s agonizing. what right does a man so unlovable have to give love of his own?
being unlovable is a horrible, lonely thing. that's all he knows. that's all he allows himself to know.
it doesn't help that he's bad at it, too. he really does seem like a monster when he says things he doesn't mean in order to protect his own heart. but what most don't realize is that the world has been terribly, terribly cruel to itoshi sae.
now he's twenty-three and doesn't know how to do anything but love devastatingly. he’s incapable of being gentle.
it's constantly there, in the back of his mind. dancing just behind the barrier of his lips when you give him soft smiles and smooth out his jacket with your hands. the words are pounding on the cages of his throat as you climb into his lap and smear kisses along his jaw, breathy and whiny and sweet. but then he bites his tongue until he can taste the blood, and buries his face between your legs instead.
i love you should be simple. for sae, it's the furthest thing.
it's a complicated swell of emotions in him, melting his usual indifferent facade until he's a puddle in your arms. he's not sure what love really is, if he's being honest. it's not something easily defined in a dictionary. words can’t describe the turmoil inside of him.
whatever it is, he's convinced himself that he's in love with you—that he always has been and he always will be. but everything he touches he sets ablaze. you're the last person he wants to be collateral damage. he's so fucking afraid that everything will be too real once he tells you those three words.
he's lived in reality his whole life. he wants to live in a dream for once. just this once, in your arms. and selfishly.
and you must know that, too, because despite making him dinner every night and sleeping in his bed even though your name is not on the lease, you've never told him you love him, either. but he can tell by the way your fingers brush his knuckles when he reaches out to hold your hand in the middle of the night. and when you kiss him it lingers for a moment longer than would leave him sane.
there are words unspoken with every action: i love you.
and when sae finally cracks, because every part of him has always been brittle, he loves you wholly. destructively. like a flame raging through a forest—bite marks and promises whispered into your skin. there are words buried beneath all that, as well:
i'm sorry. please be gentle with my heart. the world has not.
itoshi sae doesn't know how to be loved. every part of him is rough around the edges. but there's something beautiful in the way you love him without reason. in the way you're so patient when he shuts you out like a child slamming their door.
you were kinder than he could ever be. you had so much love to pour out that he envied it. he remembers growing up and thinking it was ridiculous. now some nights it's all he wants.
sae is unlovable. that's what the world had taught him. but for some reason, it never seems to stop you.
it's supposed to be a sunday night like any other. you're complaining to him about something silly called the "sunday scaries" and how you were currently being put through the ringer at work. it's an english phrase that gets a laugh out of you. he adores it. he adores you.
you're stirring a pot of curry while you speak. he's standing beside you watching. you aren't dressed even slightly, your hair is all over the place. and you're talking about something entirely stupid, putting a name to the feeling of not wanting to go to work tomorrow.
there it is again; the complicated swirling of emotions etched deep in his heart. you deserve something better. you deserve normalcy. and itoshi sae is anything but normal.
and accompanied with this thought, for the first time in his nearly twenty-four years as a mortal, the idea of silence is even more scary than snapping out of this daydream he's living in and saying—
"i love you."
you blink at him, pausing in your stirring. "what?"
"i love you," he says it again. you've always known how to read between the lines with him:
i'm offering all of myself to you and it's fucking terrifying. don't just look at me like that.
he reaches over to turn off the stove because you're staring at him with your mouth opening and closing. and then he rolls his eyes as if he didn't just do the one thing he feared most.
you're not sure how you get pressed up against the counter so fast, head tilted back as he greedily devours your skin like he usually does when he doesn't want to talk anymore. you definitely don't mind.
there's more to the story. more he wants to say. but he's not good with words—never has been. so he only kisses you until you're gasping for air and laughing. until his heart throbs where it sits in his ribcage. until you tell him:
"i love you, too."
i love you is not something simple for itoshi sae. but with you, he's willing to learn.
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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rovermcfly · 4 months
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unironically tho, you need to fill your life with nature and exercise and reading and crafting and cooking and physically engaging with the world around you. the key to happiness is not in your computer screen, especially not if most of your time is spent looking at bad opinions and arguing with people. it sounds so stupid but you are an animal that needs enrichment. so take your meds, go outside or at least look outside and turn off the computer and phone more often. I promise you'll feel better.
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chubbyreaderchan · 1 year
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Pinky Promises | Michael Myers x F!Reader | MDNI 18+
A/n: Michael and (Y/n) finally passionately hug each other and mush bathing suit areas but it is marked where it starts if you just wanna know what happens next without the spice. 
Warnings: Canon typical violence with probably too graphic a description, size kink, p in v, allusion to oral sex f receiving, Michael Myers is a virgin, Y/n is not but he’s a big boy, he does not give a fuck, and charges on through, unprotected sex, uhhh the mask stays on, Michael cums a lot cuz i’m gross. oh and his favorite cereal is Sugar Pops because the 60′s had sucky cereal.
1, 2, 3, 4 (Release unknown if at all, lemme know if you want a part 4?) 
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With pinkies locked, (Y/n) felt like she did all those years ago with little Michael, her best friend. The one she had always wanted to be with. Here he was with her, blood coating her skin. His head cocked to the side and his breathing was shallow behind the latex. He was so close to her that she could smell the copper and the sweat that came off of the towering man. 
She moved her hand from his strong grip, rubbing the blood on the once pristine white towel around her body. Her mind was screaming at her that he was dangerous. That he would kill her. He was a monster covered in blood. 
But her heart still saw the eyes of the little boy she knew so long ago. (Y/n) still cared for Michael, perhaps she only cared for her precious memories. The words that fell from her lips felt foreign. They echoed as if someone else was saying them inside of her head. 
“Are… you going to kill me, Michael?” she said. 
He was a confused puppy as if he hadn’t heard those words uttered before. His head cocked to one side and then slowly to the other. He did not raise his knife to stab her, in fact, the voice in his head didn’t seem interested in killing her. 
Michael’s bloodied hand reached out and gripped her waist. His hand trailed up her body as if he was confused by the shape of it. Something in his mind snapped when his calloused fingers brushed the side of her breast. Something Michael hadn’t felt before, deep in his stomach, in his chest, and loins. 
“Michael, you can’t touch me there. I--” 
She grabbed his wrist and pushed him off of her torso. 
“I know I promised Michael, but I’m engaged,” 
(Y/n) swallowed, glancing at the knife in his hand. 
“Listen, why… don’t you clean up. I’ll get dressed and we can talk,” 
She expected him to stay in place when she moved forward but he sidestepped and gracefully slipped into the spot she was in. 
--
(Y/n)’s hands tremmored as she pulled night clothes from her suitcase. Adrenaline pumped in her body and she couldn’t decide if she should turn Michael in. Her soft nightgown cascaded over her body, and she could hear the water in the bathroom running. 
She was allowing him to wash off the evidence in her bathroom. (Y/n) fixed her hair for bed as it was needed before her heart seemed to race when she realized the water was no longer running. 
Her feet padded against the pea green carpet she both loathed and loved, out into the hallway. The bathroom door opened and steam fell out, clearly, he enjoyed the water unbelievably hot. His hulking figure stepped out softly, (Y/n)’s face burned at the sight. Only a white t-shirt and cheaply made tightly whiteys were on his body. A splotch of blood stained the collar and she had to admit he looked good from what she could see. He was raw muscle from head to foot. No matter her weight or size he seemed to engulf her like a solar eclipse. It was no doubt that he could pick her up and move her as if she weighed nothing. 
His hand clung to his knife, as a child would a favorite stuffed animal but in the other hand was something rectangular. 
“You remember that day?” she asked. 
He walked towards her, shame long forgotten in his years in a mental hospital. Or perhaps Michael wasn’t born with the feeling of shame. He held the picture frame up to her and she smiled a natural cheeky smile that made Michael’s chest hurt again. 
“We played knights! Remember?” she giggled. 
Gently she took the picture from his hands. “It’s the only picture of us I have anymore,” 
The frown on her face was something that made Michael feel the need to kill all over again. But not her. Never her. The shape wouldn’t touch her, not like that… at least not permanently. The same wetness he wiped from his own eyes days ago seemed to drip down her cheek. 
His thumb curiously rubbed the tear from her face and she flinched before leaning into his warm tanned hand. 
“I’m sorry Michael,” she said softly. “I just miss those days you know. Those are my best memories. But my fiance doesn’t want me to live in the past,” 
Michael was glad he killed him the moment he saw him. Michael didn’t know how to comfort her, but at least the source of her sad look was done. 
The Shape lifted the latex mask just enough to uncover his lips. His hand on her cheek lifted her chin and he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. It was small, childish, sweet, and similar to the one she gave him when they were children. The first and only kiss he ever had from anyone that wasn’t his mother. 
(Y/n) didn’t stop him. She leaned into him and enjoyed the warm chapped lips against her own. Then his tongue invaded her mouth like an aggressive intruder. Poking and prodding around her. Tasting every inch of her surprised mouth. Michael’s rough hand slid from her cheek to her throat, squeezing the pad of his thumb into the side of her neck. Firm but not choking. 
He pulls away and tugs the mask over his face quickly. Honey strands of saliva connected them for a moment before dribbling down her lip. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she knew it was awful but she wanted him to do it again to her. 
But she knew Michael. Perhaps she was the only one who knew Michael. He would do things only if he wanted to do them. Though, those things he was willing to do were often if she was there or if she was asking him to do them. 
“Michael, are you hungry? I didn’t have dinner,” she asked gently. 
-- 
It was hardly a dinner at all. It was a bowl of sugary cereal and milk. She had to dig around for the bowls and spoons and Michael watched her from the corner of the kitchen. 
“Do you still like Sugar Pops?” 
The only response she got was him sitting down at the small table. (Y/n) poured their bowls and sat down. 
It was fascinating watching Michael eat, he maneuvered around the mask as if he had it on his entire life. Not even a peak of his face could be seen as he downed bowl after bowl of cereal. (Y/n) only consumed the one, downing the milk and rubbing the milk mustache off with the back of her hand. She was enchanted with Michael. 
(Y/n) was always enchanted by Michael. 
The front door slammed open and shut again. (Y/n)’s back stiffened. 
“That must be Richie,” she stands up. “Stay here, Michael,” 
Michael’s hand went to his trusty blade that was set on the table. He watched her walk past him and leave beyond the kitchen. 
“Oh my god, Richie,” She said. 
He stood covered in blood and limping. 
“We need to get out of here, there’s a maniac out there,” he coughed. 
Crimson splattered from his lips and into the carpet.
“He tried to ki--” he froze. 
(Y/n) knew if she turned around at that moment she would see Michael’s looming figure. So she did. 
“Michael, please,” she said softly. “Go back into the kitchen,” 
“Michael?” Richie spat. “THIS IS THAT LITTLE BLONDE BASTARD I’VE BEEN COMPETING WITH ALL THESE YEARS,” 
(Y/n) flinches at the volume, and Michael takes several steps forward. Richie grabs (Y/n)’s arm and throws her to the ground. 
“Take the bitch, you bastard. Kill her, fuck her, I don’t fucking care. Just let me go,” he pleaded. 
Michael is frozen. Stuck between picking her up and stabbing him until he was sure he couldn’t get up again. But then she stands up, and the choice is made for him. A shadow in the night, he rushes Richie and stabs him in the chest. 
(Y/n) screams. 
“Michael!,” She calls, but she can’t seem to care. 
At least not about Richie. Her fiance’s bloodied hand reaches up and tries to gouge Michael in the eye. He fumbles, unable to find the socket through the latex of the mask. With a sickening crunch of skull and brain matter, Michael stabs Richie in the temple. Blood flies across the burnt orange carpet staining the shag forever. 
(Y/n) exhaled the breath she was holding. Relief seemed to flood her entire body, and endorphins caused her skin to produce goosebumps. The stress of an unhappy relationship was gone from her entire being and Michael was the one to do it. 
“What do we do now?” she asked softly. 
Her shaking hands returned. Michael as always, said nothing. He lumbered up the stairs and came back down them in his blue coveralls. He grabs Richie’s corpse by the ankles and begins to haul him off, somewhere she did not know. 
-- 
Hours passed and the night grew darker. (Y/n) worried he was caught. That somehow they’d track her down and they’d never see each other again. The stress bit at her skin with a swarm of mosquitoes that seemed to eat at her unless she was doing something else. 
The blood was cleaned from the carpet. Boxes moved and unpacked. Laundry was started in the basement and she put out some clean clothes, which were of course much too short for Michael, on the bed for him to sleep in. 
She suddenly felt like she was playing house with little Michael Myers all over again. Her final stop was the two empty cereal bowls that sat in the sink. She had no clue of the figure behind her until his large hands wrapped around her neck. (Y/n) gasped before she felt the large body behind her, soft latex pressed against her cheek. 
-SPICE STARTS HERE-
In the center of her spine, she could really feel him. Thick and hard, did murder excite him? His hips pushed forward pushing her into the sink, rubbing himself against her and against the fabric of his clothing. 
Her heart dropped into her warm loins and her eyes fluttered shut. The drag of rough cotton and clotted blood made her body tingle in such a strange way. (Y/n) wanted to turn, to see him but his grip on her neck wouldn’t allow her to move. 
“Michael,” she choked. “Bed. Please,” 
Michael pulled away, and for a beat, she thought she had upset him. Made him stop what he wanted, but then he lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His hand gripped the space where her buttcheek and thigh met, he couldn’t help but squeeze it as he did so. 
The Shape lumbered up the creaking stairs and into the master bedroom. He threw her down and she bounced slightly against the spring, the clothes on the bed flew off and Michael stared her down. The silky nightgown had dragged up her hips and revealed sweet cotton panties with growing dampness staining the front. 
He wanted to see more of her. Michael climbed into the bed on his knees, hovering above her body. Rough fingers dragged up her arms, covering her in fresh blood. His thumbs hooked over the thin straps of the dress and pulls them down until (Y/n)’s breasts were uncovered. 
Hot breath escaped the bottom of the mask, brushing against her skin. He stared, unmoving at the breasts that seemed to suit his wife so perfectly. 
Michael didn’t care for laws or technicalities. As far as he was concerned they had been married since the day she asked him. It only took time for him to finally be with her. 
His large hand finally moved from the place against her arm and down to her waist like he had before. Up her curves and squished anything he could before grabbing her breast in his hand. He ran a thumb over the hardened nipple and a soft hum of approval escaped (Y/n)’s soft lips. 
So he did it again. 
She hummed again. 
He pinched the nipple and she moaned. 
That moan sent a shiver down his spine and the fabric of his clothing felt suffocating. It was like she could read his mind, her fingers pulled the heavy zipper down his body. Warm hands traced his strained t-shirt and down into his underwear. Soft fingertips followed his long shaft to the tip and the way her eyes widened in fear caused a low grunt to leave Michael’s lips. 
His hips slammed up into her hand. The fingers wrapped around him and he grunted again and another animalistic hump into her palm followed. (Y/n) smiled at him, and her free hand ran up his chest and to his mask.
Michael grabs her wrist just before she could tug off the mask. 
“It’s okay Michael, you can leave it on,” she assured him. 
Her hand on his throbbing cock moved down his length, his pubic hair was soft against her fist. Up and down she pumped his shaft and Michael could hardly control his hips. But his own hands were now exploring her body as she touched him. 
He enjoyed the softness of her breasts but he soon found his way into the front of her panties. Blood leaving trails down her body and ruining her underwear. She hardly had time to care. Michael found her clit and touched roughly. A long moan escaped her pretty lips and he moved his fingers faster around the nub. Her hips lifted off the bed and she could feel an orgasm building quickly. 
“Wait,” she tried to slow him down and stop him but her body beat her to the punch. 
She came while being barely touched by him. Her scream was loud and he liked it. It was better than the screams of his victims. Much better than any music or cries for help. He didn’t even stop his fingers over her clit. Her hands were removed from his cock and now wrapped around his wrist. 
But he didn’t slow down the assault on her clit. He pushed her through a second orgasm and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. 
“Slow down Michael,” she begged. 
He grunted at the tone. He licked his lips behind the mask, his fingers finally leaving the sensitive nub. Michael inserted two fingers, and she jumped in surprise at the intrusion. Thick and rough in the best ways. The grip on his wrist loosened and he began pumping in and out of her, his head cocking to the side as he watched her face contort. 
The digits were removed just before she could reach another euphoria. He looked at the glistening on his fingers before slipping them under his mask for a taste. Michael groaned at the flavor and knew he would become addicted to her. 
His hands hooked around her panties and he ripped them into two. Then his jumpsuit was around his hips and his cock was released from its irritating prison. (Y/n) leaned forward from her spot on the pillows. He was huge, of course, he was huge. This and long, curving just right. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and she licked her lips. 
“Michael, you have to be careful, you’re big--” 
Words caught in her throat as he flipped her onto her stomach. He squeezed and smacked the meat of her ass before pressing against her body. He was prodding at her wet entrance. 
“It’s too big, Michael,” 
He huffed and roughly pushed into her, a yelp of pain and surprise at the stretch caused him to twitch inside of her. Michael’s hands traced up her body again, stopping to grab her tits and then around the front to her throat for leverage. His dull nails bit into her skin but it was nothing compared to the pleasurable burn of Michael as he began to rock his hips. 
It didn’t take long for him to find a wild, yet consistent rhythm. He growled and grunted like a caged animal and the burn turned into pure pleasure as his cock brushed against the pressure point deep inside her walls. 
“Oh, fuck Michael,” she whined. 
He rammed into her hard at that and she moaned. His fingers tightened around her throat, (Y/n)’s vision began to get hazy as he pulled her against his pistoning hips. Just as she was about to fall into the darkness he let go and he felt her walls flutter around him. 
“Holy fuck,” She whined as she came around his cock. 
The tight sensation was too much. Michael couldn’t hold off anymore. He came. Hard and thick ropes of cum from years of isolation and lack of sexual interest. He kept cumming, more than anyone she had ever been with. 
His body slumped heavily against her back as it finally stopped. He grunted into her ear from beyond the mask and his huffing hot breath brushed against her shoulder. (Y/n) had no choice, she lay with his weight on top of her. His cock pulled from her body finally, rolling to the side flat on his back. 
(Y/n) turned over and sighed. 
“I love you, Michael. I know you probably won't or can’t understand that, but I always have and I always will,” she said softly. 
(Y/n) leaned up and kissed the soft cheek of his mask.
As she turns to pull from Michael, he grabs her arm again. He lifts the mask with his free hand just enough for his lips to show. The soft pink lips crashed into hers with all tongue and teeth invading her mouth again. She welcomed it and he pulled away again. Instead of pulling his mask down, however, he began kissing down her body. Licking and tasting her. 
“Again already?” 
She jumped in surprise when his tongue licked over her folds. 
631 notes · View notes
cptnbg · 7 months
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I've been busy drawing art for my magic decks 😅
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I FIXED THE SOL RING FOR LEGIBILITY AND CAUSE IT COSTS 1 NOT 2 T.T
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lizaisdrawing · 13 days
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Your version of human frank please?
I swear he’s on the way 😭
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Sneak peak
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jacks347 · 2 months
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"Who are you?"
"I'm what you could've been. Should’ve been."
"What, alive?"
"Happy."
- Imperium and Prime, probably
(Also Albus to himself but there's no canon AU for that so shhhh, just keep that between the two of us)
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petals2fish · 2 months
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Pinky Promise (Tummy Hurts)
He’s in love with her. 
Lily Evans couldn't shake off the irritation that manifested as a clenched jaw as she observed the way James Potter gazed at Cassie Gregory during the first five minutes of the Quidditch game. She hadn’t been able to eat that morning, anticipating this scenario in countless ways in her head. It was worse in real life, and now anxious bubbles were building in her stomach, making her queasy.
Cassie Gregory was a remarkable blonde standing at an impressive six-foot-one, perfectly complementing James' towering six-foot-three frame. It was no surprise that she seemed to captivate him, she caught everyone’s eye. Lily observed Cassie's radiant golden locks glimmering in the sunlight as she confidently leaned on her broomstick, overseeing the Quidditch field with sharp, hawk-like eyes in pursuit of the elusive Snitch for Gryffindor’s victory. Cassie's determined jawline and flawless physique were evident even from Lily's elevated position in the stands.
Lily knew why James was smitten with Cassie, but that didn’t make the matter any less annoying. (Read on A03)
Cassie was older, a skilled Quidditch player, and embodied the attractive sports girl aesthetic. Despite her popularity, Cassie's leadership in the dueling club, coupled with a penchant for jinxing those who crossed her, revealed a somewhat narcissistic nature. 
Naturally, Cassie prioritized personal victory over the team's success. She wasn’t captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but she sure as hell acted like it sometimes. Even now she was shouting orders at Marlene, one of Lily’s friends, to stop missing passes. Lily half wished Marlene would tackle the blonde off her broom, but Marlene was better at self control than Lily was. 
“And Potter’s got the quaffle, he’s heading down the field!” The commentator announced loudly.
Lily looked through her binoculars and found James, leading a chase with the quaffle down field. His arm muscle flexed over the ball, and Lily felt her heart jump when he turned his head and she got to see his cocky smile directed at his opponent. She’d give anything to see that smile aimed at her, in a dark hallway. 
Sadly, they were just friends, and she likely couldn’t hold a candle to Cassie fucking Gregory. Lily was the opposite, as far as Cassie was concerned. Firstly, she was James' age; secondly, she did not fly a broomstick. To top it all off, her tits might be good to look at, but her arse was no contender as it was flatter than a pancake. At five foot two, she was tiny standing next to him and probably reminded James of a third year. Her compassionate nature and tendency to care deeply also made her quick to erupt into tears, thanks to her big heart. 
Good tits and a big heart, Lily had certainly thought that’d be enough until now. 
As James passed by Lily’s side of the stadium, a high-five exchange with Cassie ensued, briefly illuminated by the sun. Lily's discomfort intensified when Cassie blew James a kiss. Her face collapsed and anyone who actually cared about her, would’ve noticed she’d gone completely still. Stillness was never a good sign where Lily was concerned. 
She heard James’ laugh chase the wind, and she felt her knees weaken. He had the biggest, loudest, most intoxicating laugh she’d ever heard. Jealousy sprung into her throat as she realized he was laughing because of something Cassie had said, and that was not okay. Lily didn’t understand why it wasn’t okay, but Merlin, she’d love to block Cassie from even looking his way.
Lily sighed deeply.
"Ugh," came an agreeing tone next to her. "Two jocks flirting in mid-air. They're disgusting."
"For what it's worth, they'd make beautiful babies," she murmured to Severus Snape, her best friend, trying to sound as if she were casually discussing the weather rather than the stomachache she had from realizing she wasn’t even in James’ league.
"Yeah, and raise them up to be a couple of monsters like their mother and father," Severus rolled his eyes. 
“They aren’t monsters, Sev.”
"People as dimwitted as those two airheads shouldn't be able to reproduce."
“Cassie is the best dueler in her year, and James is—”
“A bully?” Sev counted off on his fingers. “A idiot, a showoff, a arrogant toe—”
“He’s all of those things,” Lily placed a hand on Sev’s knee to calm him down, “but Potter can still outpace us both in test scores.”
“He probably cheats,” Sev picked lint off his robes. “I’m sure he cheats, actually.”
“Okay, Sev.” Lily rolled her eyes, knowing for a fact James wasn’t cheating; he was just too smart for his own good. 
It’s what got him into trouble the most. 
It got Lily in trouble too.
Turns out, she had a type, and arrogant jocks with good grades were it. 
Lily chewed on her lip, her green eyes zeroing in on James, who had just captured the Quaffle from Ravenclaw. Actually, no, Hufflepuff was playing. Oops . Lily just didn’t really care to notice, given that she’d been fixated on the interplay between Cassie and James. She was obsessively trying to decipher if the rumor about them was true, and it was eating her alive inside. 
She hadn’t even been able to eat breakfast that morning.
Severus nudged her gently, breaking her concentration. "What's with you today?"
She tore her gaze away from James and Cassie, glancing at Severus with a half-hearted smile. "Just not in the mood for Quidditch, I guess."
Severus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You love quidditch."
Lily sighed, admitting defeat. "Not today, I don’t."
Severus snorted. "Well, then why did you drag me out when we could’ve been looking for bowtruckles for my potion?”
As Lily tried to redirect her attention to the match, her mind continued to wander back to the topic of James and Cassie. The Quaffle passed between players, and she half-heartedly cheered when Gryffindor scored. The game was fun, but Lily couldn't shake the knot in her stomach, wondering about the truth behind the rumors.
Everyone was buzzing about James Potter supposedly snogging Cassie yesterday in Hogsmeade. Lily had been occupied with prefect rounds and missed the first half of the Hogsmeade trip, while everyone else seemed to have witnessed it. Even her own housemates claimed to have spotted James Potter and Cassie Gregory engaging in a passionate display.
Marlene McKinnon had practically erupted in outrage when she returned, screaming at Mary MacDonald about the alleged incident. It wasn't necessarily because she wanted James Potter for herself; Marlene genuinely despised Cassie with a fiery passion. This animosity had ignited when Cassie 'accidentally' broke the rules at the dueling club to beat Marlene in a duel of charms. Anytime anything good happened to Cassie, Marlene took it as a personal affront.
Lily couldn't blame Marlene for her tantrum. She, too, had been furious. She had closed the curtains to her bed frame and cried into her pillow for thirty minutes after hearing the news. It felt like a knife in the back, as if she'd been betrayed by the young black-haired Quidditch star. 
After all, Lily had kissed James three weeks ago. 
The kiss had been a secret one.
But the fact was still a fact. 
In the quiet solitude of the library stacks, they had found themselves alone. Engaging in a casual conversation, the topic shifted to the revelation that neither James nor Lily had ever been kissed. James expressed his frustration, feeling out of step with their peers who had already experienced such things. In response, Lily shared her own apprehensions on the matter.
Lily, perhaps impulsively, had offered to be James's first kiss. 
Initially he had conveyed uncertainty. "I don't know if it's a good idea. I don't want to ruin our friendship.”
“I pinky swear it won't ruin our friendship.” Lily had stuck her pinky finger out, grasping it with his own.
His eyes were lighting up as she forcibly shook their pinky fingers together. “A pinky swear doesn’t seem legally binding.” 
Then he kissed her anyway.
Officially, he had kissed her more than once. After the initial kiss, neither of them had separated for more than a brief moment. It felt as if he were a magnet, drawing her in each time. She had even tried a little tongue on the last go, the way Witch Weekly said, carefully tracing his lip. That had only intensified his grip, keeping her securely in place.
As it turned out, Lily discovered that she liked kissing.
The sensation of their lips meeting was a delightful surprise, and she might have gladly continued the exchange if not for an unexpected interruption. James had pulled back, and had been touching her cheek adoringly. Then, in the midst of that peak romantic moment, Sirius Black stumbled upon them, catching them standing mere inches apart, their faces flushed with feeling.
Caught off guard, James hastily conjured a feeble excuse, claiming he was searching for a nonexistent quill mark on her cheek. The awkwardness hung in the air as he and Sirius hastily retreated, leaving Lily to stand in solitude for what had felt like an eternity, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and amusement. 
In that thirty minutes, she somehow became totally enamored with him. She loved the way he kissed her back so slowly, so methodically, she could practically hear his brain overthinking every move. She loved his hazel eyes, which were darker in the stacks, and held her with such an intense golden warmth. She replayed the meeting once, ten, or fifty times before heading back to her dorm for a long and hot shower. 
Having her first kiss at fifteen must have done something to alter her brain chemistry because she spent that night drawing hearts next to his name in her diary. She hadn’t done that since second year, and never in her life had she imagined doing it around James’ name. They’d been friends, always friends, and now she wanted him as more than friends. 
Sadly, the next day after their rendezvous in the library, James totally ignored her. 
Then the day after that, he acted like they hadn’t kissed behind the stacks at all. 
Lily felt a tinge of disappointment, her affection for him somehow deepening despite the letdown. She yearned for him from a distance, reluctant to jeopardize their five-year friendship over something as trivial as a couple of kisses.
Yet, the crush persisted.
With each stolen glance in his direction, her infatuation intensified—beginning with a subtle blush and escalating into a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. She found herself captivated by him, and was wondering if Severus was beginning to discern her secret feelings for him. Suspicious looks from Sev had become more frequent, especially when James lingered nearby. 
Even now, as she stared out at the field, Severus eyed her with suspicion.
“Go, go, Gryffindor!” the voices in the stands erupted, some cheering for James. 
Lily took a deep breath as James skillfully maneuvered his broomstick, tossing the Quaffle to Charity Jones. Unaware that Hufflepuff had caught the Snitch simultaneously, Lily's focus was on James, their eyes meeting in midair. He mouthed her name, accompanied by a wave. A rosy blush crept up her cheeks as she eagerly waved back.
Severus, reacting with disgust, lightly shoved her. Lily laughed, attempting to brush off her embarrassment as she watched James descend to the ground. The game had ended, but her heart continued to race, wondering if he was experiencing the same surge of emotions. The intensity was almost unbearable, leaving her jittery with unspent energy. She knew it was stupid, but the desire to kiss him in the stacks again greatly outweighed anything else at that particular moment.
“I can’t believe you waved back,” Severus muttered moodily as they stood up to join the crowd funneling down the stairs. "Do you like him or something?"
“James?” Lily feigned disgust a little too well. “Sev, he’s got a head so big, I’m surprised he can even fly a broomstick without toppling over from being top-heavy.”
Sev chuckled, tossing his hands into the pockets of his cloak as he responded joyfully, “he and Cassie have ego in common.”
“I just can’t believe he’d date her,” Lily remained even-toned, though the topic infuriated her.
“I know,” Sev let her through the stairwell door first before following with the quip, “I thought Black and he were a thing.”
Lily laughed out loud at that, earning an appreciative look from her usually reserved friend. “You can hardly see one without the other,” she commended, “but I can’t say either one of them has been caught snogging the other—unlike Cassie.”
Sev’s hooked nose scrunched up. “Why do you even care who is snogging who?”
“Because James is my housemate, he’s my friend,” she ignored Sev’s almost perpetual eye-rolling when James was involved. “And I personally think he deserves someone who’ll keep him humble.”
“Humble and James Potter don’t belong in the same sentence as the other.” Sev snorted as they both left the field and started walking back to the castle.
“You don’t know him like I—“
“Lily!”
The butterflies in her stomach had turned to lead weights. Her feet stopped dead in the frosty grass, her face heated back up, and her shoulders straightened. Severus was quick to disappear at the sound of the voice. Lily glared after him for abandoning her, but he just ignored her and fell into step with someone else.
“Lily!” James called her name again, this time he was closer, almost right on top of her.
Lily turned, and James was suddenly right there, inches away. He hadn’t changed from his Quidditch gear, and he had no glasses on, just his goggles pushed up his forehead. Lily eyed his wind-swept hair, admiring the twists it made on top of his head. His hazel eyes sparkled—no, they glowed with happiness at the sight of her.
God, she’s in love with him.
“Hi James.”
“Did you enjoy the game?” James asked cheerfully as students funneled around them.
Lily blinked widely before answering, “yes.” 
She would have liked to have said, ‘I enjoyed you,’ but that seemed a bit forward.
“Good.” He walked closer, damn him, and slung a confident arm around her shoulders, leading her in a walk back to the castle. “I saw you in the stands near the end; you look really pretty with your hair down today.”
Lily looked up at him, twirling one long red strand of said hair around her finger. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You guess?” He scoffed, “take a compliment, Evans.”
And then, because she was stupid, she blurted out, “how was Hogsmeade with Cassie?”
She hoped he looked like he was in as much pain as she was because he actually winced when she mentioned Cassie. “Oh, you heard about that, huh?”
“It’s all over the castle,” Lily mused, “I think the student population truly believes you two might be one snog away from bringing peace and prosperity back to our hallways.”
James pinched her shoulder. Hard.
“Ow!” She pushed him away. “That hurt!”
“You deserved it for that snark, Evans.” He rubbed his own arm as if she had bruised him.
Lily eyed him grumpily, noting that he shared her expression. She fell back into step beside him as they crested the hill, the castle rising up over the landscape. It was a rare moment alone with him, despite the sea of people. Lily was hardly ever without Sev, and James had his own ‘glued at the hip’ friends as well. 
She preferred them like this, alone, together.
“She’s pretty,” Lily commented, trying to keep her voice even again for the sake of prosperity.
“Who?”
“Cassie Gregory.” 
James’ hand reached for his messy hair, and he ruffled it as if agitated. “She is,” he agreed shortly.
“Do you like her?”
His hazel eyes skirted to her green ones. “Why do you care?”
Because I like you. She was too scared of rejection to say it out loud. “Because I’m your friend.”
James’ expression remained taut, and then he hip-checked Lily playfully. “Well, just like all my other friends, you’re going to have to wait for the details on my love life.”
“But you will tell me, right?”
“When I’m in love?” James asked with a sharp tone.
She held out her pinky finger to him, “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”
His smile widened, he was likely thinking back to their last pinky promise. She held his gaze, not for one second regretting asking him. She liked when she flustered James, normally it was the other way around. 
James’ pinky suddenly looped with hers. “I promise, once she’s ready, I’ll tell the whole school who I’m in love with because I won’t be able to hold it in.”
Lily's stomach fluttered once more as she recognized the sincerity in his words. He had that earnest gaze, the one he reserved for moments of honesty. Blushing, she averted her eyes and focused on her feet, feeling the nervous energy radiating from his intense stare. He held onto her pinky, only letting it go once they started walking again.
“Well,” she muttered, attempting to inject humor, “save me a seat at the wedding.”
James snorted, as if finding something ironic in her comment. “You'll be right up front, I don’t even need to pinky promise that.”
"I'm sure Cassie will love that." Lily said smoothly, pretending to check her nail beds to avoid looking directly at James. 
"As if I'd marry Cassie," he scoffed, and her heart flew joyfully at the words. "She's a sore loser."
"You said it, not me." Lily almost hugged him, she was overjoyed by the news.  
James grinned down at Lily perceptively, "I knew you didn't like her."
"I for one, am disgusted you didn't get my approval before snogging her." Lily mocked, her mood lifted by the turn of the conversation.
James laughed once, tugging on her red hair playfully with his free hand, "I didn't kiss her, it was just a rumor."
He didn't kiss Cassie. 
Lily allowed her grin to widen as they entered the Great Hall together. James was immediately bombarded by his friends, who had been searching for him, providing Lily the perfect opportunity to slip away before potentially embarrassing herself. She seamlessly blended into the group of girls near the doorway, stealing one more glance at James. She felt a surge of happiness when she saw him returning her look with a wink.
She waved.
He waved back.
Later that evening, during dinner, James took a seat beside Lily, and she ate everything on her plate. 
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claypigeonpottery · 6 months
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sold
do you pinky promise?
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busybecomingbones · 1 year
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softie (cod mwii)
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A/N: this was supposed to be something stupid so I could get into the groove of writing again but for some reason half way through I decided it would be a good idea to start like five other wips so this is coming out way later than I wanted
w.c: 1.6k
summary: obligatory cat fic I write for every new fandom
warnings: probably some swearing lmao, also my indecisive ass didn't know if this should be a ship fic or platonic so I tried hinting at ghost x reader but didn't commit
“This is the safe house?” 
Your tone is incredulous as you take in the house- no you think shack is a better word for it- in all its glory. The building is in the middle of nowhere, some abandoned acre of field, deep in the Russian countryside, and you’re surprised it hadn’t collapsed in on itself yet. Each plank of wood siding is a deep brown color that makes you think that all of them are definitely rotten, a few of the windows are broken in, and some of the roofing is no longer on the roof but is instead hanging off the clearly handmade gutters. 
Someone shoves past you and makes for the door. “It’ll have to do.” Ghost’s voice is gruff as he twists the doorknob and walks inside. He clears the entrance and signals for you and Soap to follow. You both pull out your guns from their holsters and trail after Ghost as he goes further into the house. As you all split up to clear different rooms, you let yourself feel a little relief since the interior isn’t half as bad as the outside. It’s dusty and cluttered, but you aren’t worried the floor is going to be falling from beneath you. 
It doesn't take long to clear the entire building. It’s small, one story with a wine cellar outside by the backdoor. You meet up with Soap and Ghost in the cramped living room. They come in together through an entrance in the front of the room while you enter through a small doorway on the side. Noticing the way Soap is beelining for the tiny, green corduroy couch, you vault over the arm and stretch your body across its entirety before he has the chance to claim a seat. The cushions smell somewhat of mildew yet you can’t find it in you to care. Its the most comfortable thing you’ve lain on in the past month. 
Soap immediately starts grumbling but switches course to the sunken-in recliner residing in the corner but not before muttering, ‘Fuckin’ roaster’ and settling into its beige seat. Naturally, Ghosts takes posts near the main doorway to the living room, where you assume he has a view of the front entryway.  
With the threat of Soap gone, you attempt to get comfortable. You roll onto your back and try to ignore the way the lumps and attachments on your tac vest dig into you. Despite the discomfort, your body seems to sag in relief as you finally allow the tension to leave your muscles. The mission had been kicking your ass from the get-go and you were going to savor every moment of peace you could get your hands on. As you feel your eyelids start to get heavy, you force yourself to move your head until you face Ghost. To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. If he’s in any way affected by you catching him he doesn’t show it. 
“How long are we gonna be here?” 
He breaks eye contact to glance out of the nearest window, there's a round hole in one of the panes from what you assume was a stone being thrown through it. Like always, his voice is gruff as he responds, “Until Bravo Team RVs here.” 
“So you don’t know.” 
“No.” He huffs. “I don’t know.” 
You only yawn in response. There's a few minutes of silence that follow, the only noise being the tinny sounds of metal hitting metal as Soap disassembles his handgun and cleans it. The quiet is broken when a dull thump sounds from the kitchen. It’s so soft that if you didn’t have years of experience being constantly on edge with your eyes and ears peeled, you never would have noticed. You’re not the only one who heard it either. Ghost’s posture stiffened and Soap halted his movements. There’s a pregnant pause before there’s another soft thump. This time you all spring into action. Ghost moves first, bringing his gun up and disappearing down the hall towards the kitchen, you’re quick to follow with Soap on your heels. However, you aren’t able to get very far because the doorway into the kitchen is blocked by Ghost’s hulking frame. 
“Ghost, what the fuck is it?” You hiss. 
His responce is a little irked. “There’s a buncha fuckin’ cats in here.” 
You and Soap are completely in sync as you lower your weapons and spit out a sharp, “What?” 
Ghost simply moves further into the tiny kitchen and slides to the right so you can get a better look. Sitting on the white countertop are four kittens that couldn’t be more than a month or two old and on the floor, what you assume, are their mama and another kitten. The two thumps you’d heard were probably from them jumping from the counter to the ground. The mom wasn’t very old either, scrawny but not mangy. Naturally, she seemed apprehensive of the three of you, her ears pulled back and tail puffed up slightly but she didn’t seem aggressive. Of course, that could change the minute any of you got closer to one of her babies.
“There's so many.” Fighting the urge to walk right up and scoop each and every little ball of fur into your arms is almost physically impossible. 
There’s a soft hmph from beside you as Soap puts his knife away, “How’d they get in?” He moves into the kitchen to stand beside Ghost. You don’t miss the careful way he walks, his steps are a little gentler than his normal stomping gait like he’s trying not to frighten the cats. 
Ghost nods his head towards a paneless window directly above the sink, “There. Reckon we can scare them off and board it up.”
You scoff. “Why scare them off?” In the time you’d been standing and talking, the mom must have decided that none of you were a threat because she’d shifted from a defensive position to sitting and eyeing Soap curiously. 
“They’re vermin,” is his deadpan reply. 
“It’s a litter of kittens, not a buncha rats. Besides,” you gesture towards the other man in the room, “Suds over there doesn’t seem to mind.”
Soap was leaning over and running his gloved hand along the older cat’s back, and you could hear her purring from the handful of meters between you. His attention is pulled away when he angles his face up to glare at you but he never stops giving the cat affection. Seeing that their mother seemed to trust the new strangers, her kittens jumped off the counter to investigate. 
Most of them made their way over to you, but the smallest one scampered over to Ghost. He merely glared down at its gray, fluffy face.
“Mom’s definitely a stray, there’s no way a feral cat would cozy up to someone like that. And I don’t think Soap is especially approachable.” As you speak, you bend at the waist and start pulling off your gloves. There was no way you were missing out on feeling them with your bare hands. “Babies are barely two months- their eyes are still blue.” After petting each- now incredibly rowdy- kitten, you take one in each hand and straighten. Immediately, you’re met with Soap’s quirked eyebrow and what you can only assume is Ghost’s stony expression. Your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “I worked as an assistant vet in high school!” 
The two kittens you’d left on the floor swiftly turn their attention to Ghost. His eyes harden again as they run over to him and join the runt who hadn’t left his side, meowing as loud as their little lungs would allow. 
Soap barks out a laugh at Ghost’s stiff posture. “You scared of a couple a’ cats L.T?”
“I don’t usually make it a habit to associate with pests.” The taller man eyes the kittens you’re holding. “Probably got rabies or something.”
You hold them tighter to your chest, at least as close as your tac vest would allow, like it’ll protect them from Ghost’s irritated glare. “Actually, it’s pretty rare for cats to-” 
It's then that the cats sitting on the ground decide they’re sick of the mask-wearing man ignoring them and promptly launch themselves upward and cling to the worn denim of Ghost’s jeans. They begin climbing him like he’s some incredibly stoic, aloof tree and he flicks his eyes between you and Soap. 
“Get them off.” He grunts. 
Humming, you meet Soap’s eyes and pretend to think about it. 
“No.” You and Soap say at the same time, once again in sync as you start to make your way out of the kitchen. Just as you turn on your heel to leave, you point at the ground near Ghost’s boot where the runt is still staring up at him, “And don’t forget the little one.” 
It’s only a minute later when you hear someone muttering under their breath and the familiar heavy stomps of military-issued boots. As you set some of your gear on the beat-up coffee table you see Ghost turn into the room out of the corner of your eye. You have to fight a laugh when you see the two kittens still hanging onto his pants. Except, when you study the rest of him you notice that something is missing and you’re instantly turning around to tell him off for leaving the other kitten. Before you can manage, you’re interrupted by Soap’s bark of laughter. 
“Never thought of you as a softie.” He says, a bit hypocritically if you might add since he has his now ungloved hand buried in the mom cat’s fur. She’d curled up there the second he had sat back down in his recliner. 
You inspect Ghost again and this time you see what you miss; a little gray face peeking out of one of the bigger pockets on the chest of his tactical vest. This time you do laugh but you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle it.
Ghost’s glare jumps between you and Soap, “Say a word to anyone and I’ll gut you.”
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hamspamandjamsandwich · 2 months
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I wanted to make a movie poster-esque cover art for my little passion project, Pinky Promise, a soulmates AU Kurahi fic...so I did.
You can read Pinky Promise here on AO3
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