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gojorgeous · 9 months

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"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you��re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.”

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong.

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.”

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.”

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.”

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–”

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.”

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–”

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry.

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm?

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer.

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach.

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope.

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road.

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.”

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.”

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.”

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare.

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to.

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto.

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck.

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed.

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home.

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.”

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.”

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.”

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–”

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.”

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours.

��I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly.

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs.

“Feel anything?” he asks.

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter.

“Sleep, baby.”

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot.

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs.

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.”

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint.

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-”

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.”

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.”

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place.

“No, baby.”

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully.

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin.

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.”

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight.

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants.

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead.

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit.

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives.

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him.

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need.

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled.

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away.

“Gonna knot you good, princess.”

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes.

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk.

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.”

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss.

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything.

“Sugu–”

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling.

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens.

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness.

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that.

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…”

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much.

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine.

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.”

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams.

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.”

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it.

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…”

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl.

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised.

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

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diah-the-demon · 6 months

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You ever just get one of those late night moments where you are having a panic attack cause you are so overwhelmed with all the work you need to get done

#THERES SO MUCH SHIT BEING DROPPED ON ME #I DONT HAVE ENOUGH MENTAL (LET ALONE PHYSICAL) ENERGY TO HANDLE ALL THIS #i have 2 pieces of work due tomorrow for college which i havent finished (then given another cus fuck me right)#AND THEN ON THURSDAY I HAVE ANOTHER PIECE OF WORK I HAVE TO HAND IN (its just a draft for a presentation i have to do but i havent done muc #on that piece of work yet)#plus my class after that which i am prob gonna get an assignment for soon (this one is ok cus i like my teacher plus its easy but still)#not to mention my regular classes which include running college restaurant so we have to do prep one day and then cook and serve the next #oh and dont get me started on how i am planning to start the process of going private for hrt soon thats a whole other #can of worms that i haven't even opened yet #UGHHHHH WHY IS THERE SO MUCH HAPPENING RIGHT NOW #IM JUST A SLEEPY GIRL WHO WANTS TO PLAY GAMES WITH MY GIRLFRIEND WHY IS THE WORLD SO MEAN TO ME #vent #i just wanna crawl up. cry and disappear

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crushmeeren · 1 month

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omg but imagine secretly giving the mha boys aphrodisiac chocolate and seeing how they react..

No but you’re RIGHT…. ( ੭ ˙ᗜ˙ )੭

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Katsuki would stare at you with narrowed eyes when you hold your hand out and offer the piece of chocolate to him, your gaze wide and innocent until he pops the candy in his mouth.

Katsuki would be in a meeting not too long after, jaw clenched and teeth creaking when his uniform pants get too fucking snug for no reason. His cheeks will flush bubblegum pink, biting the head off of some hero he can’t remember the name of when asked what’s wrong.

Why the fuck can he only picture you face down and ass up in the air?

Why does he have to sink his nails into his thighs to hang onto his last thread of self control and restrain himself from palming his stiff cock when he thinks of your pussy split open for him?

Why the hell is sweat running down his temples and along his jaw like a goddamn river??

He doesn’t know.

What he is certain of, is his plan to tackle you to the bed as soon as he gets home. To cum the second he slides his achy cock inside your tight pussy, and then to fuck you until neither of you can stand to climax one more time.

Eijirou would happily accept the chocolate, humming in delight once he begins chewing.

Eijirou would then be relaxing with you on the couch, using every ounce of willpower to concentrate on the movie you’re watching together. His cheeks would turn as scarlet as his hair and he’d try to hide his face with the loose strands when you glance at him.

He’d squeak out that’s he’s fine when you ask if he’s feeling feverish. He’ll clumsily cover his cock with large hands, knees knocking into one another when he tries to close his legs.

Eijirou would whimper in your ear “fuck, I’m sorry baby, I need your pussy. I can’t stop myself,” as he gives in to the heat churning in his belly and bends you over the armrest of your couch to fuck you like a dog.

You’ll babble and gasp it’s okay, crying out his name when he makes you orgasm for what feels like the hundredth time — only for his dick to remain hot and full after he’s already cum inside you so much that you’re sure you’re going to get pregnant.

Shouto would take a bit more convincing. He doesn’t ordinarily eat chocolate, but he’s willing to try it if you’re the one presenting it to him.

Shouto would be leisurely walking alongside you in the grocery store, occasionally making noises of agreement as you tell him about your day.

Shouto would suddenly freeze mid stride, becoming rigid in the middle of the aisle. He’ll blink owlish eyes at you several times when you turn back to question what he’s doing.

You’ll snap your fingers to get his attention when he starts to stare at the swell of your tits for way too long instead of listening to you, cheeks filling out with a blush when he meets your gaze.

The next thing you know, your half full grocery cart is abandoned in the aisle and you’re yanked by the wrist back to your car in the parking lot.

Shouto would mutter breathlessly “sorry baby, I can’t seem to control myself,” when he gets your pants off, leaving the material to dangle from one ankle before tugging you down to straddle his lap in the backseat.

He’ll unbutton his pants and shove them down far enough to free himself, not bothering with your panties and sliding them to the side as he sits you down on his cock and let’s out a low moan.

Shouto will match your every move, thrusting upwards harshly each time you sit down. He won’t give a single fuck if someone walks past the car, he just knows he needs your pussy to keep swallowing his cock until the insatiable burn in his lower belly subsides.

It takes…awhile.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki smut #shouto smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto #kirishima ejirou #kirishima eijirou x reader #todoroki shoto smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bakugou katsuki smut #kirishima eijirou smut

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holyviolence · 11 months

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crazy how my dad is critical of literally everything i doooo :)

#i told him i applied for the SAVE plan for student loans which brings my monthly payments down by $200 dollars and he was like 'so you're #gonna be paying off your loans for the next forty years. nice' and i guess he just doesn't understand it!?? but that's literally not what im #doing. and i said Well i can't afford spending $300 a month on loans right now. and somehow that still wasn't enough to convince him?????#even though when i told him i got a job he said i'll need to get another because 'you're gonna run out of money soon' like GOD he can never #be satisfied with anything i do! i moved to an apartment and he just criticized the dirtiness and the area im in which has a 'concerningly #high crime rate' and 'that ep loans why the rent is so low....'#*explains #i just don't fucking get it. like i am just doing things that i think are best for me in my current situation and frankly i don't have many #options rn and he's sooo critical and it doesn't help anything. the only times he has not been critical are when i do exactly what he wants #me to do which historically has made me fucking MISERABLE and even then he would tell me how to do better #trying 2 be independent and faced with only criticism is so hurtful and disheartening and i hate it!!!!!!#anyway. im fine im just venting.

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zephyrchama · 5 months

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“Don’t,” you warned Lucifer. You saw that self-assured grin on his face. You knew what he was planning.

“What? I just came to see what you were doing.” He leaned on your shoulder with enough weight to tilt you several inches sideways, no matter how much you pushed back. “Don’t mind me, carry on.”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you retorted, but it was too late. The others were catching on.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?” Mammon came over and pushed against your other shoulder, tilting you back upright. “What are two of my favorite people doin’?”

You tried to shrug them both off, to no avail. “We’re not doing anything. We can stop this.”

You couldn’t stop it. Asmodeus was on his way and wasted no time crossing his arms over your back, happily leaning into you from behind. You tilted forward. “Hey! What’s happening here?”

You sighed, “we’re not doing this again.”

Asmodeus teased you with honeyed innocence, “doing what, hon? Something on your mind?”

These three demons thought they were so funny.

A passing Satan made eye contact with you. In that exact moment, you used every bit of imaginary telepathy you could muster. Surely Satan would understand. He could save you. He could free you before it really was too late.

He observed what his brothers were doing, nodded, and approached with a congenial grin. Mission failed.

“Traitor!” You regretted ever agreeing to join this exchange program as Satan slowly fell back into you. You didn’t even try to catch him, you were too busy trying to remain upright under the combined weight of four demons. They were hardly even holding back.

You couldn’t see who was running up, being too busy blowing Satan’s blonde hair out of your face, but at this point it didn’t matter. They were all coming for you.

“Let me in on this!” Leviathan said cheerily.

“Yeah!” “Come on!” Asmodeus and Mammon gladly made some room for Leviathan, which was difficult because you were sinking lower and lower, and you felt another weight pile onto your back as Levi cozied up to your torso. This scenario had played out enough times now that the brothers could somehow keep you from falling over like a Jenga tower, but it was still only a matter of time.

Belphegor squeezed his way in between Satan and Lucifer and wordlessly collapsed onto you as if overcome with narcolepsy. He sure looked cozy. He smirked while you lamented, “I’m never forgiving any of you, ever.”

“Beel? Are you coming?” Lucifer summoned the cherry on top of this ridiculous parfait. You braced as Beelzebub licked the crumbs off his fingers in preparation. He knew what had to be done.

“Are you ready?” At least he had the decency to ask, unlike six other degenerates. The six lumps of dead weight each grabbed a part of your body, shifting from leans to awkward hugs. There was no way to run.

With an exaggerated “hah!”, Beelzebub’s weight and outstretched arms were enough to send everyone crashing down. You were protected from any real damage by the shell of demon brothers, but they soon had you pinned down against someone’s chest in the world’s most embarrassing cuddle pile.

“Aren’t you guys too old for this?” you asked. “By like, ten thousand years?”

“We were just checking up on you,” Lucifer said.

“Yeah, how did this happen? Hmm..!” Asmodeus’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Satan draped his leg over yours and not-so-accidentally kicked Lucifer. “You should have told us what you were doing.”

“I think it’s fun.” Belphegor was the only one to admit the truth.

Hands were running through your hair and over your stomach. Somebody was pushing the edge of your mouth up into a smile with their finger. If these guy were so touch-starved, they could have just said so, like sane people.

“My! What do we have here?”

You groaned, partially because everybody was really heavy and partially because you really didn’t need Diavolo to arrive just then.

“My lord, it appears we have walked in on something quite interesting.” Et tu, Barbatos?

”Indeed! Is there room for two more?”

Your “no!” was drowned out by seven resounding yeses.

#cuddle puddle! cuddle puddle! cuddle puddle!#obey me swd #obey me scenarios #obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me headcanon #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me drabble #obey me brothers #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me brothers x mc #obey me mc #obey me brothers x reader

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bloomries · 4 months

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yeah so my husband— my husband?!

includes : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary : calling him your "husband" (even though you two aren't married yet) to see his reaction.

warnings : gn! reader. mention of marriage. suggestive (in asmodeus'). the word 'husband' will begin to look strange bc it's used so much, apologies.

LUCIFER

You just meant for it to be a harmless little prank, something to tease Lucifer with later when you two were alone, perhaps gauge his reaction to the idea, but after you said 'yeah, so my husband...' Diavolo's eyes grew as wide as the moon and you instantly regretted your prank idea.

Diavolo clasped a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, beaming. "You finally asked!" This statement went over your head as you tried to quickly take back your words, Lucifer's blanched face making it clear he'll definitely be scolding you later. "But it seems I missed the wedding? Oh well, I'll just host you another wedding so I can see it for myself!"

"Ah, L- Lord Diavolo..." Lucifer sends you a glare as you smile sheepishly. "We aren't- I haven't-"

"How do you both feel about a chocolate fountain?" Diavolo is already off in his own little world, imagining how he'll plan out your wedding. Lucifer decides he'll inform Barbatos of the prank, and have Barbatos deal with it- Lucifer already has his hands full with you. He pulls you aside as Diavolo talks to himself.

"Do you see what you've done?"

"Sorry..." You fake pout, batting your lashes up at him. "My darling husband will surely fix it though, right?" Oh, how can he stay mad when he truly likes the title so much. Perhaps this will make asking you to marry him easier? You surely seem to enjoy the title just as much.

MAMMON

Mammon is always trying to listen in on your phone calls, he's nosy and likes to know all the gossip. Today in particular though, he's trying extra hard to hear, clinging to you and making you unable to do other tasks whilst on your call.

Deciding to tease him a little, in hopes of getting him off of you, you sigh dramatically into the receiver. "I'm sorry, my husband needs my attention, one second."

And when you look down at him, his eyes are wide and shiny, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Him? Were you talking about him? He's your husband? A giant grin takes over his features and it seems your little prank has the opposite effect you wanted, as he takes the phone from you.

"Yeah, sorry, their husband- that's me!- needs 'em!" He boasts proudly before hanging up the call and clutching on to you tighter, burying his face into your side, his grin not changing in the slightest.

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. "Rude, I was trying to talk to someone, you know." Mammon shrugs, not a care in the world.

"'m your husband, I take priority."

"You know you're not officially my husband yet, right?" Shit, you're right. Well, that'll change soon, don't you worry one bit! Mammon knows how to take a hint, and there'll be a ring on that finger soon enough!

LEVIATHAN

You and Levi were playing an online game, chat on full blast, when you decide to tease him- because it's just so fun to see his flustered expression, and you have an inkling that this'll give him some motivation for the game. "Ah, hubby, can you help me with these guys!"

"H- Hubby!?" Leviathan's neck nearly breaks from how quickly he snaps to look over at you, you seem unphased though by the phrase- as if it came so naturally. His heart skips a beat, his grip on the controller tightening. "W- Where are you, I'll come help!"

His gaming friends are all blowing up the chat box, some getting on voice chat just to ask what that meant- 'was Levi actually married?,' 'He was a husband?,' 'Since when!?,' 'Congratulations!,' etc.

Levi would have gotten more flustered, had he been paying any attention to said friends, but he's much more focused on proving he'd make an excellent spouse by rushing to where you were in the map and one-shotting all the enemies that surrounded you.

The battle is quickly won thanks to Levi, who puffs out his chest with pride. You lean over from your gaming station adjacent of his, and press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, hubby~" His cheeks grow a rosy pink, and he pulls his headphones off to give you a serious look.

"Let's get married."

SATAN

"Oh husband~" You call, "Can you help me get this book? I can't reach!" Satan peaks his head from around the corner to give you a questioning look. Who were you calling husband? He watches you struggle, leaning his frame against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't remember proposing." Satan watches as you deflates from his lack of reaction to your prank. He sighs, walking over to you and helping you reach the book, tapping it on your head lightly before handing it over to you.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

Satan has a feeling this was definitely set up by one of his brothers, and he'll definitely be getting his revenge on them for making you do this (and for making his heart hammer against his ribcage uncontrollably). Still, he hates to see you upset in the least, so he lifts your chin with his finger and thumb and sends you that smile that sends shivers down your spine.

"Don't be upset, you'll get to call me husband soon, okay?"

And he truly did mean that, he already had a ring, which sat heavy in his pocket. He just wanted to make sure you had the most perfect proposal, something straight out of a romance novel- because that's what you deserve. Soon, soon you'll be able to lovingly call him 'husband' whenever you wish.

ASMODEUS

Asmo is live-streaming again, doing a little grwm-type video, with you off to the side/in the background. As he begins to do his skin care, he asks for you to take over and chat for a little while for him, so you peak your head into view and wave at his viewers.

"Hello everyone!" You smile, glancing back at Asmo who's behind you in the bathroom, doing his skincare. "My lovely husband is doing his skincare right now, it usually takes him about ten to fifteen minutes to complete it." You say, however you can see his head pop-up from the sink and he whips around to look at you.

"Husband?" He calls, and when you nod, confirming your words, he grins. "Oh my, is this a proposal?" He asks with a teasing lilt, and you joking go along with his words, nodding before reenacting the famous getting-down-on-one-knee. You open your hands as if you had a ring box, presenting it to him. He holds his hand out to you, "I do~" You pretend to slip a ring on to his finger and he admires the imaginary ring before leaning down to kiss you.

"Now," He pulls away, wiggling his brows. "Shall we get started on the honeymoon part?"

"Asmo, that's typically after the weddi-" Asmo reaches for his phone, waving and saying a little 'byeeee' to his followers as he ends the livestream with a giggle, throwing you a lil' mischievous smile.

"No harm in starting earlier, right?" And despite only being halfway through his skincare, and this not being a real proposal, the honeymoon was very nice indeed- he can't wait for the real one though.

BEELZEBUB

You had seen the trend, and wondered how Beelzebub would react. So, under the guise of trying some new food and giving it a review, you set up your camera and begin filming. "Hey everyone, me and my husband are going to be rating food from the new McDevil menu~"

Beel doesn't react at all, and you send him a quick glance before trying again- perhaps he didn't hear you? "I think the Sin-Fries are a solid 7/10, what about you, husband?" But again, he doesn't react to the word at all, instead giving his own rating for the new fries.

Is he really not realizing what you're saying? You decide to try one last time. "My husbands food always looks better than mine," You whine, peaking over at him to see his reaction, only to see him offering you a bite of his burger. You sigh, giving up and deciding to just enjoy your food. You take a bite of his burger, offering him some of yours. The review ends swiftly, and you turn off the camera.

As you two clean up from eating, you notice Beelzebub quieter than usual. You're about to ask him if everything is okay, his face becoming flushed, when he speaks up.

"Soon, okay?" You blink a few times, confused by his words. He bashfully looks up at you, and that's when you realize what he's talking about- marriage, he plans on proposing to you soon. Your own cheeks now grow unbearably warm. "I promise."

Your prank definitely backfired, as now you're the one trying to calm your racing heart (although Beelzebub is definitely just as flustered). Still, you're holding him accountable to his promise- soon.

BELPHEGOR

You're not sure how this little prank managed to get turned against you, but Belphegor has made it so that you're now his personal pillow- again.

"I'm just saying, if I'm you're husband, then that means you should let me use you as a pillow whenever I want." You open your mouth to retaliate, but he beats you to it, batting his lashes up at you. "Don't you want your husband to be comfortable?"

"I..." You falter. You regret deciding to call him your 'husband~' to try and get him to help you with chores. You thought maybe it'd motivate him, or maybe you'd just get to see his cute blushing face, instead you're suffering.

"Come on now, don't be shy~" He wiggles about, trying to grab you to pull you towards him, but he doesn't really exert enough energy to be successful. "Ugh, why... do you... do this... to me- to your darling husband!"

"You're anything but darling." You say, crossing your arms over your chest. "Last time I call you 'husband' or any term of endearment, I swear..." You grumble, turning on your heels to leave, disappointed your prank didn't work.

Belphegor grins, snuggling up to his pillow as he watches you leave. "That's what you think," he mumbles to himself, yawning, "when I finally get that ring on your finger, I'll have ya calling me husband again, just you wait~" He snickers, and a cold chill runs down your spine. You glance back to see him asleep, although you feel as if he's planning something- and you weren't sticking around to find out what!

#obey me x reader #om x reader #omswd x reader #obey me imagines #om imagines #omswd imagines #obey me headcanons #om headcanons #omswd headcanons #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #om fluff

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luveline · 5 months

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

You and Spencer finally find time for your first time. 6k

fem, afab!reader, mostly confident!reader, foreplay, oral sex, p in v sex, lovey dovey tender loser sex, established relationship, pet names, aftercare, requested here <3

cw for smut, minors do not read or interact, 18+ content

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

“Can you stay still?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Spencer climbs further toward you on the bed. “I’m trying to help. You’re no good at buttons.”

You’re no good at buttons because your fingers shake whenever you and Spencer get close like this, and with these intentions. You’d always thought he’d be the shy one —sometimes you take his hand in the back of the work car to watch his cheeks go a rosy, unignorable pink. He’s the more introverted of the two of you and he always has been, so why does his touch have you trembling already?

Excitement, you decide, heart in your mouth as his fingers begin to pop your buttons through each matching slit. This is exactly what happened last time you and Spencer tried (and were sorely interrupted). You’d been out of breath and in his lap, too excited to see to his buttons, too busy kissing him to take much notice as he’d taken care of them himself. And then work called, your plans were cancelled, and he’d promised you that you’d get to do this soon.

“I’m good at buttons,” you deny, leaning back on the palms of your hands as his pinky’s brush up, the sides of your shirt falling open.

“Oh, you’re back,” he says. He’s teasing in bed. You aren’t expecting it. “You went somewhere else for a few seconds, you okay?” That’s less teasing, more sweet.

His hands pause just under where your bra begins.

You take a breath. “I’m okay, I’m thinking about last time.”

He leans in for a kiss, a quick but steady catching that has your face following him as he pulls away again, and undoes your next button. “Which part?”

The part where he’d insisted you’d be laying down for this. The memory alone inspires heat, pleasure and wanting from the depth of your chest, your stomach, ever lower.

“Did you lock your door?” you ask.

Your phones are off. The door is locked. Spencer promises as much in your ear as leans in closer to you, crawls that last few inches of space to have your legs tangled atop his white sheets, his hand disappearing under the open sides of your shirt. The other hand works the last few buttons, but you don’t get to watch him do it, distracted by his fingers hot on the small of your back and his lips as he pulls you in tight for another kiss.

This one’s slow. He holds you like he’s worried you’re gonna slip out of his arm where it curls behind you, cool air kissing your chest as he gets the last button by your neck and encourages either side away from you. You lean into him and shake your shirt down the lengths of your arms, finally shirtless in front of him again after days of trying. You try to keep up with his kissing, he’s intense, he’s everywhere, but you run out of breath.

“Oh,” you say uselessly, your cheek against his as he kisses your jaw.

“What, angel?” he asks, breath warm to your skin, “What’s up?”

“Nothing… I wore my nice bra for you.”

“You did?” He promptly pulls away. His face is pinking, but it’s so warm you can’t blame him for it. You’re sure he’d feel a furnace under your skin if he touched your forehead. Spencer’s gaze falls down to your chest, where it stays, his own rising and falling with a noticeable sharpness. “That’s pretty. You’re pretty.” He swallows as he looks up. “Your nice bra? Just one?”

You cover a breast with your hand and push it up ever so slightly. “This is the one I thought you’d like most. You like blue.”

“I love blue. I love you, I love you,” he says, leaning around you to move your discarded shirt to the floor. “Can I take it off?”

You nod with a stupid smile. Fond and too eager. “Please.”

“How many tries do I get?” he asks, grabbing your sides in two gentle hands, pulling you forward into a hug as he reaches behind you for the clasp.

“You can do it one,” you promise, voice a murmur now he’s close to you.

You let your hands rest on his hips as he pinches the clasp and pushes it together. Like magic, it comes apart. Spencer holds the unclasped sides to your naked back for a few seconds, his breath loud in your ear, before he sits back to look at you.

You push the straps of your bra down, let the support of your bra fall away. You ball it up in your lap, sitting there bare-chested and smiling, waiting, hoping you’re as beautiful to him as he’s always made you feel.

His hand climbs your arm. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “can I–”

“Yeah, please. Please.”

His thumb rubs a short line from your navel to the skin just below your breast. Your chest feels suddenly heavy, the half-lidded set of his eyes on you like a weight, but it’s one you realise you like as he rubs the indent of your bra. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb pressing into the underside of your breast, kind but undeniably there, and your body reacts to his touch, which is another thing. He doesn’t coo, but it’s close. “How does that feel?” he asks quietly, drawing under your nipple with his thumb.

“Can you kiss me some more?” you ask, breathless in a way that’s almost painful.

Spencer clutches you by your sides, unafraid to play with you, pressing you down into the bed as his hands traverse up. You shuffle back into the pillows and let your eyes shutter closed, his nose pressing hard into yours as your lips meet again. He kisses hungrily. He’s treated you to a few heavy kisses in the past, nothing compares now to the open crescent of his lips and the feeling of his hands. His tongue is hot where it touches your lips, wading in. You sigh into his mouth and feel his own sigh in return as he breaks it.

“Fuck,” he says, his breath coloured by pleasure. He’s practically moaning in your ear as a big hand squeezes your chest.

You can’t take this. You lift your hips and graze against him, rushing to reach down and slip your skirt over the curve of your ass and over stocking clad thighs. You try to push them along at the same time, breathing hard.

Spencer notices what you’re doing and reaches to help.

“Your shirt,” you argue, faces close, his confusion an inch away, as are his pinked lips, “take your shirt off, Spencer, I can do this myself.”

“But why should you have to?” he says, though he listens, making quick work of his button up.

You kick your stockings off of your feet and lay there, warm, overwhelmed but desperate at once, watching him on his knees as he manages his last button and peels out of his shirt. You cross your legs tightly against the achy heat blooming in your cunt, uncharacteristically shy.

His chest is pale, without a freckle nor beauty mark, but he’s shapely. You've kissed him so much these last few months, traced the hills and rigid muscle of his front with an adoring hand under his clothes, but the two of you being similarly bared is different.

It’s worse when he reaches for the button of his slacks.

You bite your lip. “Spencer, can I do it?”

“Yeah.” He swallows again. “Of course you can. Don’t ask me.”

He’s getting warm, curls of his hair falling into his eyes, his breath a constant huff. The bulge of him through his slacks draws your attention. You crawl toward him where he’s kneeling, checking his face. When he nods, you rub the very pad of your thumb against the line of his cock, feel it jump at your touch. Your heart jumps in a similar place.

“This okay?” you whisper, your touch light enough that you’re surprised he can feel it.

“Please.” He says your name like you’ve hurt him. “Please. Take them off.”

“I can’t believe you’re like that just from kissing me,” you say sincerely, a mumble as you pop the button and dig your fingertip under the zipper, which you pull down in one smooth line. There’s an immediate release of pressure against his cock. You blink. It’s so warm in here. “Spence, can I–”

“Please.”

You nod to yourself and shift onto one elbow, shocked and even warmer when Spencer plumps a pillow behind you. Your anticipation is an ache that won’t ebb, hands trembling again as you pull the band of his pants down his hips and expose a pair of white and blue boxer briefs. A darkened patch of material rests against the tip of his cock, the curve of him ever harder as you touch him.

He sucks in air through his teeth.

“Aw, Spence,” you say, pressing the length of your thumb to his cock and breathing out as you ride the curve of him up to that wet spot. “Sweetheart… Does that feel good?”

He closes his hand on top of yours and holds you there. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I think I gotta kiss you first,” you say, eyes on his straining boxers. “Think you might need one.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ll ruin everything before we’ve even started, you can’t kiss me like that.”

“Are you sure? I can make sure you’re ready.”

You’d never force him into anything. You’re letting him know it’s alright. You’re not gonna push him over the edge before he’s done, you just wanna do all the stuff with him that you’ve been dreaming about for a while now. You have a feeling he might enjoy it.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you need me to,” you say softly, feeling his cock twitch in your hand at the mere sound of your voice. “I wanna see you.”

He laughs infectiously, almost drunkenly, the two of you giggling as he shifts your hands. He doesn’t say anything more, only moves your hands down over the softer base of his cock to encourage his pants out of the way, and then his boxers.

His cock is pretty like he is as he pulls it out. You knew it would be. A little taller than your hand, he tugs it toward his stomach and you watch in delight as a string of precum catches the light, wetting his palm.

You’re patient. He lets it stand without help and you curl your hand where his had been at the base, his cock shining in lines, that welling of precum spread messily around and worse when you give a soft pump. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, shuffling closer to you on his knees, his hand leaping to your shoulder. “Oh, god.”

You tilt your head. “How’s that, baby?”

“Please, angel.”

You lean in for a kiss.

Just a kiss, but your lips part, your spit ready on your tongue and slick in a heavy line up the side of his cock. All you can think of in that moment is how much you want him, how gentle his hand is on your shoulder despite the wounded little breath he lets out, and the stickying feeling of wetness that grows between your thighs, your underwear damp at the very centre and clinging to you as you crawl as close to his front as you can get. You kiss and kiss up the side of him, not silly enough to love on his most sensitive skin at the head, not after his warning, though the idea of his cock shuddering against your lips and tongue makes you squeeze your eyes closed.

You kiss shy of his tip and tilt your head back to look at him. He’s already watching you, squinting with a palpable agony.

“Are you okay? Is that alright?” you ask, loosening your grip on his cock to draw a loving, sweet line down, and down.

He catches your wrist. “You can’t do that again,” he warns gently, hint of a smile in his eyes. You beam at him adoringly. “Lay back? There’s something in my way.”

“In your way,” you murmur through a smile, laying back in the pillows as he’s asked you.

Spencer sheds his slacks and boxers. You pull your legs up to give him room to kneel on the bed by your legs, pulse like a constant humming ache against your cunt as he takes your calves into his hands and presses your knees together. “You’re not gonna say please like I did, are you?” he asks.

“Do you need me to?” you ask, teasing him with your own hand, letting it travel from the base of your throat and over a tightened breast to your stomach, then your underwear. You flick the waistband. His eyelashes flare. “I can say please, Spence, I’d love to say please for you. Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don’t ever want you to say please, you know that.” He encourages one leg flat to the bed. The other, he pushes up, fabric of your underwear tight to your warm cunt and heartbeat surely taking up station in your throat. “Maybe I can say please.” His hand coasts down your thigh. “Would you like that?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t say please, or don’t touch you?” he asks, stopping his squeezing.

“Spencer!” you laugh, moving your hips ever so slightly, raising them in hopes of his understanding. “This is cruel, I didn’t tease you.”

“You’re nice,” he says, again pressing your leg up toward your stomach, eyes on the bump of your cunt as he begins to lean down. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a surprising kiss to your soft inner thigh. “So perfect.” Closer now, nose skirting toward the elastic of your underwear. “Please, can I?”

You press your shaky hand to your lips, palm out. “Please,” you say into your skin. “Yeah. Yes, you can. Can you?”

A kiss to the skin beside your cunt, his free hand riding up to squeeze the bump of it, his thumb pressing against wet heat, your breath caught. He rubs a line up from the wet to your clit, and he smiles when he finds it, though that smile is swiftly overtaken by parting lips as he kisses a mixture of skin and fabric and starts to suck. You hiccup at the feeling.

“You sound cute when you’re happy,” he says into your thigh. He turns his head slowly, looking up at you, his thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly at the sensitive little hood of your clit, your nerves all over the place. He’s giving you the puppy eyes, big and brown and in sickly love with you.

“Happy’s not the right word,” you breathe out.

“I should fix that, right?”

Your stomach does a hard flip. “Yeah.”

Spencer isn’t as timid about it as you’d imagined he’d be, his reality better than any fantasy, his hands kind but quick where twists his fingers into the waistband of your underwear as he begins pulling them down.

He lets out a long breath as the air kisses your cunt, his eyes trained obviously on one spot in particular as he takes your panties all the way to your feet. He rolls one leg off, leaves the other hanging at your ankle as he grabs the soft underside of your knee and encourages your leg up.

You can feel your cunt spread, feel the wetness that had been growing dribble from you. “Ah,” you say, more breath than word while he holds your leg in place. “Spencer–”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, I just need you to touch me, please, I–”

He says your name, says, “Hey, don’t talk like that, I’ve got you, I’m gonna touch you, just needed to know you’re okay–”

“Spencer–” you squirm with wanting.

“I know,” he says, the tip of his cock turned impossibly red where it’s resting against the heaving of his abs, “trust me.”

He reaches for your abdomen, his palm resting lovingly on the pudge of your tummy. You squirm for it lower. “If you think I’m not gonna give you everything you want, you're crazy. When don’t you get your way?” He leans down, and to your relief, your little gasp of breath, he kisses your naked cunt. “When don’t I want to give it to you?” he asks into your skin.

Every word he says is heat and movement against the nerves that make up your clit. You practically shiver as he lets his lips part against you and kisses all over, unafraid to feel every little bit of you, his tongue pressed wet and flat your softest parts. You spread your legs in anticipation of him, his thank you a kiss that lights up every nerve ending you have that stems from your hips, the breath racing out of you and moans not far behind. He rubs the length of your leg, his fingers trailing towards his kissing. The hand that isn’t up to something just loves on your skin. The hand that is pauses shy of your cunt’s wet hole —you can’t help letting out a choked moan as he sucks on your clit and the skin around it, sudden, the feeling of hot slick dripping from you worse as he pulls away with a quiet pop.

His lips shine in the lamplight. “I’m gonna start getting you ready, okay?” he asks, a small smile somewhere in the midst of a gaze that’s otherwise laden with lust. His fingertips tease your entrance. “What do you think, angel, can I do that?”

You might need a kiss to get through it. You can’t decide whether you want him to keep eating you out like that, like you’re water to the famished, like he’s worried he’s not quick enough to get every bit of you where he wants it, but you’re so desperate to be fucked by him that you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. “Spencer, you need to kiss me,” you decide.

“I am–”

“No, come here. Need you on top of me. You can get me ready,” you agree, eyes peculiarly damp, “but I really wanna kiss you right now, baby, please, please–”

He’s on top of you by your second please. You gasp at the rigidity of his cock pressing to your cunt and find it lost in his mouth, his fingertips wet with sex pressed to the side of your face. He remembers himself, kisses all the same but hand moving down again, turning his weight onto the bed and off of you as he feels at your cunt. His fingers slide through hair and wetness alike to tease at your cunt. You can feel wet on his fingers as he pushes in just a centimetre, again on his thumb when he circles your heat carefully, and all the while he’s kissing you like he’s been starved of you. He’s saying angel and so pretty against your stinging mouth.

It’s strange when he pushes two fingers in, but not bad. You’ve never done this with one another, and it takes him a few careful thrusts of his fingers to figure out where he should be directing his motion, and what to do to make you happy. You nod into his mouth as he finds a sweet spot and presses into it, quirked fingers quick to the very last knuckle, his pinky and index fingers sliding without resistance against the wet mess on either side of your cunt. “There?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, pulling his face closer to yours, your hands twined deep in his hair.

He digs around against your walls, to your abject joy and something else, some emotion you can’t name, the want to be touched everywhere by him, to be the kind of full of him where you can’t breathe.

He presses his fingers inside you, undulating against the gum of your walls, and groans into your lips as you pull in a shivery breath. His hips jerk hard, his cock sliding against your stomach hot as a brand.

Spencer pulls up. You’re in the throes of one another, but his eyes are clear. “How do you want it?” he asks tenderly. “Can I stay here, or should I move back?”

“Just to start, it’s always tight–” You catch your breath now he’s paused, stroking curls away from his flushed cheeks. “I’ll sit up a little and you can still hold my hand,” —he doesn’t question this even for a second— “just so you can see what you’re doing, and then–”

“It’s okay, we can work it out,” he interrupts. “I’m not gonna rush and hurt you.”

“I didn’t think you would,” you whisper, cupping his face in your hand.

He ducks in for a slow, chaste kiss.

“I know you didn’t,” Spencer says. He takes another kiss, pressing one to the top of your chin.

Then he’s shuffling backwards and off of you, and he’s grabbing your hips, lifting you up as he positions himself at your cunt. You shuffle back in the opposite direction to wedge yourself firmly in his pillows, knees up and heels either side of his lap as he moves in. His cock rubs against your cunt by accident, then quickly again with a deliberateness, like he’d felt you and couldn’t help himself.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he says. His eyebrows pinch together in a glare, his thumb pressing to your clit. There’s no purchase there anymore, your wetness having made its way up, but he rubs it nonetheless. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You grab his hand. Twine your fingers into his. “I love you, Spence,” you say easily. “Don’t be shy.”

He’s giving you that Can’t believe I’m with you look that he often does. It reminds you of the first time you met when you’d called him beautiful without knowing he’d mean this much to you one day, because he really was gorgeous, everything you’d ever want in a guy and lovelier after. You flirted your way into being his friend, and one day your hand-holding was hugging, your friendly cheek kissing turned to lazy hickeys, and he’s still giving you that look. Like he doesn’t deserve you. Like you’re gonna disappear.

You reach between your centre and his to nudge his hand down, guiding him into place. “Say you love me,” you request in a murmur.

“I love you,” he says, head of his cock against your opening. He abandons your clit, to your disappointment, but he’s grabbing the rump of your ass and hip to hold you in place.

He is achingly, achingly slow. He’s so gentle with his thrusts that you feel like you could love him twice as much as when you started, his wrinkled brow, his eyes flitting between your face and the stretch of your cunt to check on you as he goes. He reaches a natural resistance, nothing he couldn’t push past if he didn’t want to, but he doesn’t have to —he’s not fully sheathed and yet you’re aflame with pleasure. He’s at just the right angle. All he needs to do is move.

“There?” he asks softly,

“Please, right there.”

He pushes forward and a breath leaves his lips like you stole it. “You’re tight,” he says, “I knew you would be at first, but I didn’t expect– do I need to stop?”

“No, no, that’s the best part…” You close your eyes. If he weren’t holding your hand you’d cover your face. “Spence, it’s supposed to feel like this, baby. You just find the way you like it and I’ll tell you if it’s not right.”

“Promise?”

“Promise– oh.”

The fronts of his thighs press to yours, his cock flush to your walls and digging into something sweet and sensitive enough to make your thighs shake. Good luck, you think, for the two of you to fit together like this, for his cock to fill you without hurting or leaving you wanting, even though he’s just a little over half inside. He goes slow, almost repetitive, his thumb drawing dedicated half circles into the back of your hand where he’s securing it to your hip. Breathe, you think, I have to breathe. There’s nobody here but Spencer. You can show him exactly how this is making you feel.

“Fuck,” you say, letting out a little moan, worried it won’t be something he likes.

“Fuck,” he echoes emphatically, “does that feel good, angel?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. His chest shines with sweat, his cock driving in, all his touching and adoring drawing a litany of your most vulnerable sounds, hiccups and whimpers, beggy breaths that plead for him to do exactly what he’s doing until he can’t.

“Can you keep your leg up?” he asks.

“What?”

“Can you lift your leg, angel? I need my hand.”

You nod hurriedly and hold your leg aloft as he’d been, not pretzeled but giving him the room he needs to drive forward. He’s swift in his intention, pressing his free hand to your cunt, unabashed, marriage and middle finger slippery against the head of your clit and drawing precise circles. After a few timid thrusts of his hips, he matches speed. Every thrust met with a circle of your clit, his face dipping down to kiss your leg.

“There,” he says to your knee, “I got you, I’ll get you there.”

“I don’t wanna cum yet,” you confess.

“No, I know, but you have to feel good, I need to touch my girl.”

You don’t want to argue with that. He’s never said something like that.

He goes on. “You’re so pretty, I don’t know– I don’t–” He gives a tight smile, “don’t think you know how beautiful you are, you feel–” He moans, then, like he’s pleading.

You don’t expect to be close this soon. It had to be the way he’s talking to you, or his lazy mouthing at your cunt before you’d started. “Wait! Wait, Spence, don’t,” —you grab his hand to stop him from drawing anymore circles— “I have to do it, or I’m gonna cum already.”

He says fuck, thrusts in just a little deeper than he had been, head of his cock kissing just the right place, “Show me how to do it the way you need it.”

You play on the edge of your orgasm for long, long minutes, your hand over Spencer’s drawing the smallest of circles, your nerves aching, the pressure of it like his hands pressed to your tummy. Spencer fucks you, fucks into you, ruts into you when you give him a flirty smile, angling his hips a touch to the side.

You usher him down to you, craning your head up to his. “Can I have a kiss?” you ask with a voice stretched to gossamer. You’re in love with him and you could cry for it as he fucks you, but you try not to. Not yet.

Spencer licks his lips. “You can have everything.”

He slows his thrusts to a drag. Slow drag out, full push in. His hips press to yours and you squeak as he fills you with every inch he has, his hands vying for your clammy face.

He can only thrust slowly from there, though it feels like it’s hitting somewhere new, if not deeper. Shifts of his hips against yours, a mess of slick between you and the friction of his skin. You kiss and pant into each others mouths, spit stretching like a string from his lip to yours that he promptly kisses away. It’s everything you needed it to be, and you can’t hold off much longer. “Wanna cum,” you tell him, stroking the skin under his eye, his gaze aligned with yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can you– like before–”

Spencer understands. He sits back, drags you by the hips onto his cock, and set about fucking that dedicated pace, three fingers pressed to your clit. He goes as slowly as you showed him at first, and that in time with his thrusts sends a pleasure through you that makes you gasp. He speeds his hips at the same time as his fingers, your skin so wet that it requires dedication to wind the coil, but he does wind it, over and over and over again until your walls are rigid tight and your hips are working desperately to chase the feeling. He’s pushing you to the edge.

You cum, and your breath gets caught. You force out a breath and you keen in the feeling, covering your face with both hands as Spencer pushes you through it with a few last teasing circles and a couple of quick thrusts.

Spencer knows without asking to slow as you come down. You laugh into your hands.

He doesn’t quibble when you let your legs fall flat around him, only strokes your thigh, paused half inside of you to offer you one of his shy smiles. “You even sound pretty,” he says.

“You think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He takes a measured thrust. He’s not not confident these days, but you can see the man you adore now between your legs, in love with you but not sure what to do. “You can keep going, baby.”

“You sure?” he asks.

It’s gonna be intense, but you want that. “Come back,” you say, angling your tired legs around him. “Come lay on top of me… Please.”

It’ll be nice to hug him now. You whine as his cock slips out of you and again as he lays atop you and slides it back in, your cunt waiting for him and slick as anything as he settles.

“Is this too much?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

He rolls his hips demonstratively. You didn’t know there was anything left there to give him, but he can have it.

You wrap your arms around him, your forearms to the line of sweat on his back, and give him a hard hug. “You can have everything,” you utter, repeating his earlier promise to him with the same encapsulating love as you cling. “Fuck me however you want.”

When it starts again, chills ride up your spine. Spencer finds a place you didn’t know you had and fucks against it with love, so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, his nose rubbing harshly into your cheek. He squeezes your shoulders tight in his arms and you’re sure you’ll never catch your breath again, and you don’t want him to stop. You’ve never felt this close to him.

Your naked chest rises uselessly beneath him as you fall into the whining, pleading bit of sex, your moans half gasp and lost in his hair as he burrows his face into the pillow by your head to hide his same desperation.

“There you are,” he mumbles, hips grinding into yours. He must say your name ten times in a row, each one more frayed than the last, until he’s lost it completely.

“Go faster, sweetheart,” you suggest, squeezing his hips between your thighs.

Spencer begins again in earnest, nipping crescent moons into the curve of your neck, thrusting fast until he can’t. You hear him trip into cumming like it’s an accident, his thighs go all tense and his cock throbs as he presses you flat, flat to the bed.

He gives a last few greedy thrusts before he calms, though he doesn’t stop moving. Spencer rolls his hips for a slow, languishing minute.

His hand finds your shoulder. His face turns to yours as you turn yours to his, two halves of a good kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He’s panting, but his reciprocation is immediate. “I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

Spencer lifts himself up enough to wrap his arms behind your head, almost framing your head where you’re laid underneath him. “Trust me, I do.” His eyes shutter. You close your own in wait of another kiss, but he’s sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. He draws a circle, draws soft lines over your cheek in zigzags.

“Tell me what to do now,” he murmurs.

You scratch his back lightly. “Aw, Spencer, just keep doing this.”

—

Spencer cleans you up and you finally cry, a couple of tears you’re hoping he won’t notice as he drops the towel on your leg. He holds you with his hand behind your back and murmurs words too nice for such silly tears into your cheek, before asking, scared, if he’d hurt you.

“No, no, it’s like the most intense relief in the world!” you tell him, selfishly basking in the muscle of arms where they’re wrapped around you, and his silky hair whispering over your ear. “I feel amazing.”

“I didn’t think you’d be one of the women who cry afterward,” he says. He’s not judging you, simply sharing an observation. It makes sense. You’re not usually emotional in such an unconstrained way.

“I’m really happy.” You pinch his chin mildly.

“Your legs are hurting.”

You let him go. “Yeah, a bit. It’s a nice hurting. Like we went for a really long walk.”

He takes your face into both hands and tips your head back. You’re slouched forward, he’s straight-backed, and he’s taller where he’s grinning at you. His hand comes to rest against one of your breasts, giving it a little cup before he presses it flat over your heart. “I thought you were never gonna calm down.”

“You have that effect on people.”

“Maybe that’s true for you,” he says, tapping your nose with his, encouraging you to lift your chin. “But only one person’s ever made me lose my breath like that,” he adds, your lips touching, not kissing.

You could keep him forever. “Think we should turn our phones back on?” you ask.

“When I’ve made you something to drink, sure. And found you something to wear, right? It’s too cold.”

You’re still hot enough to cook an egg, but you let him take care of you. It’s as good as being fucked, being adored when it’s done. He gives you underwear first, a soft tank top and a pair of panties you’d left here before and he’d washed and pressed, your sweetheart. You’re surprised he doesn’t help you into them, but you notice with fond bemusement that he’s cringing as he steps into a fresh pair of boxers.

“You okay, handsome? Did you tweak something?”

He’s in pants before you realise, standing shirtless with sex-tousled hair. You could ask him back to bed if you weren’t exhausted. “I’m not in shape.”

“I could say otherwise.”

Spencer’s on top of you again in an instant. He sits on your naked leg and pulls down your rising tank top before twinging your hands in his. He’s practically in your lap as he kisses your chin. It’s that earnest you end up giggling, lovestruck, two idiots holding hands. He steals a couple of lazy kisses. You can’t remember how many you’ve had anymore.

“You’re contrary,” he says as he pulls away.

“Can’t you be nice to me? You were acting so nice.”

He slides off of your leg. “You’re my best friend. I hope we’re this happy for the rest of our lives.”

You fist your hand in the rumpled sheets behind you. He’s apparently unaware he’s said the most special thing he could’ve, opening his closet door to retrieve your pyjamas from the shelf he dedicated to you the first time you slept over. You are best friends, is the best part. He’s not exaggerating.

Before he’d ever kissed you, you were in love. You’ve been in love for years.

Spencer drops your pyjamas next to you on the bed. “You want me to help you put them on?”

You have no reason to need help tonight, but you want it. “Yes, please. Can you rub my back after?”

“Yesss. I’d love to rub your back. If we maintain our physical connection after sex, it enhances the relaxing factor but it also prolongs the effect of the oxytocin and dopamine your brain would’ve released when we were–” He picks up your sleep shirt and shakes it out. “Well, you know.”

“Any more sex facts for me?”

Spencer has the nerve to blush, considering the way he’d spoken to you only ten minutes ago. “An orgasm as a woman can lower your risk of heart disease, breast cancer, and depression.”

You smile at him sweetly. “No kidding. How much to get that risk down to zero?”

He kisses your cheek. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“We can still try.”

“Um. Can I have a banana first?”

“I’m kidding!”

“Oh.” He gestures for you to put your arms into the sleep shirt. “Well, maybe you can have a banana too and we’ll see how we feel.”

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

Thank you for reading!!!!! I hope you enjoyed it! please reblog or let me know what you thought if you have the time, but I hope you enjoyed regardless!

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