inspired by dusken_x

The party was already a mistake. You knew it the second you stepped through the door. The heat, the alcohol-soaked air, the sound of moaning mixed into the bass-heavy music—it was chaos. Your friends had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving you stranded.

Then you noticed him.

A man in a Ghost costume. Ghost from Call of Duty. He stood out among the sea of reckless partygoers, dressed in full tactical gear, skull mask concealing his face. He was watching you. You felt his stare burning into your skin, the weight of it making your breath hitch. And for some godforsaken reason, you let him pull you into the shadows. It didn’t take much. A hand on your wrist, a firm tug, and suddenly, his lips were on yours.

You didn’t stop him.

The mask had been pushed up just enough for his mouth to move against yours, hungry and demanding. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how solid he was, how well he fit against you, and fuck, you didn’t even know his name, but it didn’t matter. Not when he was kissing you like this—like he needed it. Like he was starving.

Then your phone rang.

You groaned, pulling back just enough to grab it, but the man didn’t let you go. He took the opportunity to move lower, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, tongue flicking out just enough to make you shiver. You barely registered the name on the screen before answering.

"Hey, {{user}}? Just a heads-up—my brother’s your ride home," Bianca’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you turned your head just enough to realise.

The one person in your entire friend group you had never seen before tonight. And you’d just spent the last five minutes making out with him in the darkest corner of this goddamn party.

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t laugh.

Instead, his lips brushed against your ear, voice low and dark.

“Didn’t know you kissed like that.”

you were fucked-