#continuing the cycle that he goes through again and again and again

[gojorgeous]

"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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[tojirights]

Honestly think you're one of the best writers for Alastor in this fandom! Your stuff is always brilliant and the characterisation is perfect!

Had the idea last night: Alastor and reader going multiple rounds, and reader still wanting more and being full of energy but Alastor being absolutely out of it and completely shattered, so he uses his tentacles instead, because what kind of gentleman keeps his lady wanting?

Just an excuse to request tentacle sex with everyone's favourite "deer".

a/n: im gonna be so real with you, im not really sure if the tentacles are like, real apendages or if they're part of his shadow soooo i wrote them as the latter. hope it makes sense!! thank you love :') y'all are too nice 🩷

if there was one thing you weren’t expecting to still have in hell, it was your damn hormonal cycle. you didn’t necessarily have a period, but by god, you swore you still ovulated. it felt even worse than before, the primal need threatened to burn a hole through you. you always felt like a bother to alastor during this week of the month, begging and pleading for him to fuck you for hours. but, alastor never turned you away.

today though, you were especially needy. alastor had already made you cum a handful of times and had cum twice himself. he was exhausted. yet, there you were at the edge of his bed, eyes still filled with lust. “my goodess…” alastor chuckles, shaking his head. “i’m not sure i have much left in the tank, darling.” he cups your cheek, watching tears well up in your eyes. “i-i’m sorry-” he shushes you before you can continue. “did i say anything about stopping? i’d never dream of leaving my lady hanging when she needs me.”

“but…” you frown, watching alastor’s smile turn to smirk. “i have a few tricks up my sleeve, my dear. lay back.” your eyes widen as there’s a flash of green light, followed by five tentacle-like appendages sprout from alastor’s back. “w-what?” adrenaline surges through you as well as a mix of excitement and nerves. “you’re gonna… use those?” you gulp, watching the tentacles slither towards you. “why of course!” alastor snickers, seeing your apprehension. “don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours." he coos, watching with hungry yet tired eyes.

the shadow apendages wrap around your thighs, cold to the touch but not unpleasant. as they slowly spread your legs, another slides between them. it's almost embarrassing the way your legs shake with anticipation, the cool tip of the tentacles swiping up your slit. "o-oh, that's..." you sigh in relief when you're suddenly being filled. "how's that darling?" alastor hums, watching as you open wider around him. "that's... oh god alastor..." you pant, every slow thrust of his tentacle-like shadow making your head dizzy.

the foreign feeling of being stretched so wide has you already teetering on the edge. without warning, alastor curls the apendage while picking up pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. "gonna-" you mewl, hips arching off the bed with every thrust. "k-keep going please. 'm gonna cum." every whine makes alastor almost wish his cock was back inside of you, knowing just how hard you're clamping down on his shadow.

but the sight of you writhing, gripping the sheets like you're life depended on it was something he's grateful to be seeing from afar. the buildup to your orgasm comes strong, the coil in your stomach snapping from the tension and- "oooh, you really liked that, hm?" alastor's voice is heavy with arousal, pulling you back to reality after cumming. your vision slowly returns, heavy breathing filling your ears. you barely register the soaking mess you've made on the bed. "oh my god. did i..?" your face goes red, embarrasmemt setting in once again. "yes, my sweet. you did, and made quite the mess for us to clean up."

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[hannieehaee]

Hi! I love your work I was hoping I could request something? this may be a little nsfw but I was wondering how SVT would react to having a girlfriend who likes to cockwarm them? like even after they’re done she just wants them to stay inside her like she could literally go to sleep like that. I just think it’d be interesting! you don’t have to do it though!

18+ / mdi

reaction to you liking to cockwarm them

content: afab reader, smut, cockwarming, mentions of riding, etc.

wc: 966

a/n: thank u for requesting!! i hope i did this justice <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

this wouldve become a common occurrence during his hiatus from seventeen. due to his injury, you'd have to ride him whenever the two of you wanted to have sex. at some point he wouldve dragged you back down as you moved to slip him out of you, pleading with his eyes to stay around him. would probably be unable to control himself and eventually try to fuck into you, not caring for the pain he'd bring himself.

jeonghan -

smirks to himself any time you whine at him when he goes to slip out of you after you're both done. the moment you showed any indication that you wanted to cockwarm him, he'd to squeeze your hips and feel up your ass and back rather than remove you. would entice you into another round after some time, hoping to create a vicious cycle in which he fucked you and you cockwarmed him, only for him to fuck you again.

joshua -

he'd wanna take care of you in any and every way, so if you were too sleepy after sex to get up from his cock, that simply meant you'd be going to sleep with his cock still buried deep inside you. it was a win-win situation for joshua. he'd have a restful sleep with the prettiest girl he'd ever held in his arms, and he'd probably get to fuck you just as the two of you woke up. there were no bad sides to the situation.

jun -

a little caught off guard the moment you simply pressed down against him after both your orgasms had subsided. regardless, he would understand you might be tired and just hold you as the two of you fell asleep. the next morning it would click that you'd slept literally wrapped around each other all through the night. that might've been one of his best sleeps ever, making him want to do it again and again.

soonyoung -

practically becomes hypnotized the moment you bring up cockwarming, now obsessed with the idea. he'd be so giddy every single time the two of you had sex right before going to bed, knowing he'd get to go to sleep while your arms held onto him and your pussy held onto his dick just as tightly. this would become his new favorite act of intimacy to do with you.

wonwoo -

would naturally happen one day in which you rode him while he was gaming. you'd both finish and you'd simply fall limp against him. after a few moments of no movement, he'd ask if you wanted to just stay sitting on his dick (not complaining! just wondering, he'd clarify). after your tired affirmation, he would smile and hold you closer, continuing to game but caressing your back every so often, adoring the intimacy of the situation.

jihoon -

it kills him every time you insist on letting him stay inside, face scrunching up in pleasure at the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him in such an intimate way. would insist that you can only do it for a little bit, knowing he'd probably cum the moment he grew hard again.

dokyeom -

would reluctantly agree, wanting nothing more than to be as close to you as possible, but knowing your cunt would overpower his senses at some point, which would probably make him beg you to fuck him in the middle of the night. the obvious would end up happening, making you ride him in the early hours of the am, only to cockwarm him again all the way into the morning.

mingyu -

he'd nod in agreement so fast his neck would hurt. holding you in his arms after sex? hell yes. being inside you as he held you in his arms as you fell asleep? nothing sounded better to him. would probably underestimate how pussydrunk he could get and beg to fuck you halfway through the night and then proceed to fall asleep buried deep inside you, only to fuck you again in the morning.

minghao -

he'd be a lil flustered at the bold way in which you simply tightened around him the moment he tried to slip out, wordlessly allowing you to lean against him as he stayed buried in you. would easily fall into the habit of you cockwarming him, now looking forward to that part of the day every single day. would feel most relaxed in those moments, feeling a level of intimacy with you he had never before.

vernon -

he'd insist you cockwarm him. after cumming you'd both probably be super spent and wanna rest, so he'd ask if it was okay for him to just stay in your cunt as the two of you cuddled and eventually fell asleep. this would prove to be a bit of a challenge, as the pulsing of your cunt and softness of your walls would probably take him a bit to get used to.

seungkwan -

he would also fall asleep right after sex, only waking up a few hours later to realize you were still wrapped around him as the two of you cuddled. his heart would swell at the warmth he felt both from your embrace and the tightness around him. he'd want this again and again, wordlessly begging you day after day to please give him your warmth as he slept.

chan -

he'd thank god under his breath as soon as you brought it up to him. he'd have wanted to try it out, knowing how warm and cozy it'd be to have you wrapped around him as he held you in his sleep, but he wasnt sure if you'd be into it. would probably underestimate how good itd feel, making him not realize how hard it was going to be to not fuck into you as you slept in his arms.

[ddejavvu]

hiii!! can i suggest some hotch x bau!wife!reader where reader is pregnant and she doesnt know, but at work she goes on about how she doesnt know whats wrong with her lately and spencer suggests that she might be pregnant and then she find out that she is!!

I love your writing sm btw😚😚😚

i think i might finally have enough time to write whole blurbs again :'))

--

"No flamin' hot for you today, Mrs. Hotchner?" Derek eyes your bag of plain cheetos where they lay open on your desk, and you grimace at his phrasing.

"God, no," You groan, "Don't make me sick."

"You love those things," His brows furrow, and he leans on the edge of your desk with one hand, his thick fingers splayed out over the wood, "I'm pretty sure your tongue is permanently stained red by now."

"I like them when I'm not in the middle of some weird stomach bug," You admit, "I woke up sick. I don't know what did it, but it was probably something Jack brought home."

Derek pointedly removes his hand from your desk, but he's kind enough not to tell you that he thinks you're contagious.

"Feel better, mama." He offers with something that you're sure is supposed to be a sympathetic smile, but looks a little more like a wince. Emily isn't so easily scared off, though, and she continues munching on the carrot sticks she'd brought for a snack.

"You look tired," She comments, and you almost want to take offense, "You were up all night with your stomach thing?"

"No, just when my alarm went off," You hum, swallowing a bite of your sandwich and trying not to heave at the texture, "It was nice enough to let me sleep, but-" Your sentence is cut off with a well-timed yawn, "I feel like I've been awake for days."

"Probably just your period," Penelope hums softly, trying and failing to keep your menstrual cycle a secret, which isn't surprising considering her track record with secrets. Everyone is kind enough to ignore the information she revealed, but when you shake your head and grumble, 'I'm late.', Spencer snaps to attention.

"You've missed a menstrual cycle, you're feeling extreme fatigue, and you're experiencing morning sickness?" Spencer verifies, and it's only with his discerning brain that you feel a weight sink in your stomach - preferably not your unborn baby.

"Oh my god," You breathe, your hand coming subconsciously up to your stomach, "Oh my- oh my god! Aaron, Aaron!"

Aaron rushes out of his office with the combined urgency of boss and husband, his eyes locking on you sharp with concern.

The air between you is thick as the members of your team grin up at Hotch, leaving you the silence to cheer, "I'm pregnant!"

His eyes are no longer viciously worried, their sharp edge melting into something far softer. His lips part, barely enough to let air through, until they crack and curve upwards in a dazzling smile that the bullpen doesn't often get to see.

"You took a test?" He confirms, but when you shake your head, he dims slightly.

"Reid said I am," You offer, and his zeal is back. You're sure he wishes he could wrap you up in a truly breathtaking embrace, complete with kiss far too passionate for your work environment, but you'll save it until you're at home, away from prying eyes and phone cameras. Regardless, you can feel his exhilaration from where you stand, and you're already planning out a nursery in your mind.

"He's probably more trustworthy than the plastic stick," Derek claps Reid on the back, and the doctor looks like the wind was knocked out of him. They're both smiling, though, and you feel JJ's hand on your shoulder, squeezing happily.

"Congratulations," Rossi pats Aaron on the shoulder, much gentler than Reid had been subjected to, "But a word of advice, Hotch? Don't have any more. If I have to split my inheritance another way, it won't be worth killing me over."

[spicyspiders]

could i request a bottom male reader whom uses that trending pheromone perfume to seduce miguel, and because his (miguel’s) power comes from him splicing his dna w a spider’s he goes absolutely crazy for it? won’t leave reader alone which leads to smut? love your works and would understand if you’re not feeling this <3

Thank you! I've never heard of that perfume, but I hope this story did it justice.

If anyone asked, you did your best to try and keep your room clean and tidy. You were okay with small piles, but those messes were always quick to overwhelm you so you would try and keep your space clean. 

This could mean that there were times that you had difficulty finding certain things in your room if they were lost in those piles. If it could be difficult for you, you couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for someone unfamiliar with your space. 

That’s why it confused you to come into your room to see Miguel throwing things around, obviously looking for something. 

“Miguel?” You asked and watched as his back stiffened. 

He turned to face you in a flash, frustration evident by not only his stiff posture, but the intense look in his red eyes.  “What’re you doing?”

“What am I doing? I should be asking what you are doing, because it looks like you’re trashing my room!”

Somehow even quicker than he had turned to face you, he had your body pressed up against the door, holding you by the arms in a tight grip. 

“Do you know what you’ve been doing to me?” Miguel asked, a wild look in his eyes. He leaned down and dragged his nose up the column of your neck. 

You knew Miguel wasn’t necessarily a vampire, but it felt like that rumor was always spreading at least every few months. You knew it wasn’t true, it was just a silly rumor after all, but right now, you were beginning to second guess. 

“I thought it was the injections at first, but then when I would take another dosage, I learned that you had locked me in this cycle,” Miguel said, pulling his face from your neck when he was done talking. Up close, you could see that his red eyes were nearly black, his pupils nearly swallowing up all of the color. 

“Cycle? What’re you talking about?” You questioned, trying to loosen your way out of his grip. 

Miguel’s fingers only tightened around your arms, his claws digging into the skin, “your smell,” he growled. “I nearly wore down the soles of my suit trying to track down where it was coming from. 

“It’s the cologne I bought,” you tried again to wrestle out of his grip, but your efforts were in vain, “I can go wash it off-”

Miguel cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. The hot press of his lips catches you off guard, making you gasp, which gives Miguel the perfect opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you, and then I’m going to fuck you in the shower until that cologne is gone from your skin.”

You nod quickly, feeling a small shiver go through your body at the dark look that falls over Miguel’s face. “The only thing you’re going to smell like is me. Like you’re mine.” Miguel says, his fingers finding the zipper of your suit all too easily. 

Once Miguel has the top half of your suit joining one of the piles on your floor, his hands are running a warm path over the skin. His fingers find your nipples to tug and tease until they’re hard and sensitive. 

You let out a whine when one of his claws gets dangerously close to one of the nubs. Fortunately, Miguel’s fingers leave so they can continue their path down your body. 

When you’re down to your underwear, Miguel still hasn’t shed any of his suit. It’s something that you try to open your mouth and protest about, but you find yourself with his lips on top of yours, halting whatever you were going to say. 

Miguel’s tongue finds yours as it licks into your mouth. It maps over the space, from the roof of your mouth to your back teeth. He breaks the kiss after backing you up until the back of your knees meets the edge of your mattress. 

Flat on your back on your bed, Miguel still isn’t naked, but you’re down to your underwear, your hard cock straining against the fabric. Your mind goes blank when Miguel makes his way between your legs and grinds his hips down, and you can feel that Miguel is just as hard as you are. 

You gasp into his mouth when he presses his lips to yours again, this time you bring a hand to his hair so you can hold him steady and push your tongue past his lips. Just from looking at them, you knew his fangs were sharp, so you take extra care when running your tongue over them. The action makes Miguel whimper, the noise going straight to your cock. 

Your eyes fly open when sharp claws find their way to the last article of clothing you have on and shred the material enough that they can join the pile your suit made. You always found yourself throwing something away from the piles when you would finally clean your room, and this time, the underwear would join whatever else you would throw away. 

With your neck craned over to look at once was the underwear you just had on, Miguel took that time to kiss and nip with his lips and teeth at the sensitive skin of your neck. He made sure to soothe over the skin his teeth went over afterward, no doubt leaving a mark that you both knew would heal quickly. 

When you turned your head back to face Miguel, the sight of his naked body was what greeted you. His suit left both little to the imagination as well as a craving for more. There was no doubt that Miguel was attractive both in and out of his suit. What once covered his broad frame was now all gone, leaving you with the difficult choice of when you wanted to put your hands first. 

Your hand left his hair, leaving it messy as your hands made the short path down until your reached his broad shoulders. The skin underneath your fingers was warm, making a comfortably warm path down his arms. The valley of his abs was one you hoped to find yourself familiar with as you went there next. Starting from the hairs below his belly button, you made your way up his chest. 

Just like he did with you, you tease at his nipples. Whereas he only used his fingers, you had your tongue and teeth to the mix. You nip at one bud before running your tongue over the hardened skin. Once you’ve moved on to the other, Miguel is panting, and when you pull back and open your eyes, you see his have gone half-lidded and dark from the pleasure. 

“Tell me you’ve got lube,” Miguel groans, grinding his hips down so your hard naked cocks can rub together. 

It’s one of the things you knew the exact spot of in your room. You don’t want to move away, but you knew the few seconds of distance would all be worth it. 

Your stomach jumps in anticipation and fear when one of his lubed-up fingers makes its way between your cheeks when you come back to the mattress. Thankfully, his nails are now smooth, perfect to get you ready. 

You don’t know how many kisses are exchanged as he prepares you. They vary in intensity based on what you need. When one of his fingers brushes against your prostate, the kiss that accompanies it is wet and messy. When a second and third join to get you open, Miguel showers your face in soft kisses as you occasionally let out little noises of discomfort from the thickness of his fingers. 

“Please,” you beg over the noise of his three fingers pumping in and out wetly. You aren’t really sure what you’re begging for, but you’re pretty sure it could be an end to the intense pleasure he’s giving you. For Miguel to finally push you over into orgasm with his fingers. Or it could be for his cock, the sight of it you’ve caught glimpses of ever since his suit was gone. 

Just the sight of it was intimidating, but you still let out a punched out noise when Miguel nearly folded your body in half so he could rub the head of his wet cock against your hole. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, digging your heels into his back to try and spur him on. Your head fell back onto the bed when he finally pushed inside, Miguel’s hips falling forward until he was all the way inside.

You felt impossibly full, the thickness and length of his cock carving out a space deep within your body. 

You raised your head from the bed, feeling sweat drip down your neck. Miguel’s tongue followed the bead of moisture, panting wetly against the heated skin of your neck. He tried to kiss you, but all you could give back was drawn-out moans that he chased with his tongue.  

Opening your eyes after the kiss was done, Miguel watched you with an expression full of lust, his red eyes nearly black. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, sweat that was threatening to cause the grip of your legs to loosen from his hips.

When your legs began to actually fall, Miguel caught your legs, holding you down to the bed with a tight grip on your thighs. He kept his eyes on your face, watching as your expression morphed from discomfort to bliss as he pulled out and began a steady pace. 

Holding you down, Miguel thrust forward, again and again, your noises of pleasure being pulled from your body as his cock nailed your prostate. His heavy balls smacked against your skin, the noise of the motion filling the room as your sweaty skin made contact over and over. 

Your cock leaked against your stomach, making a messy puddle of sweat and precum. Your body felt tight like a bowstring, like your cock was ready to spill and coat the rest of your stomach with your cum. You knew you were close, not only from that feeling, but also the physical sensation in your gut, a warmth that was steadily spreading as your orgasm approached. 

“Gonna pump you so full, everyone will know what we’ve done. You’ll fucking reek of me, of my cum.” Miguel said, his voice gruff and deep, full of an intensity that you knew only he could deliver. 

The words sent you over orgasm, your back arching off the bed. Over and over the aftershocks ran through your body, sending sparks of pleasure from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. 

Afterward, you could only lay there as Miguel used you for his pleasure. He held you in a bruising grip to create the perfect channel for his cock to fuck into. It was almost too much, stars of overstimulation bursting behind your eyes when he finally came after a few stuttered thrusts. 

You knew the ache in your body wouldn’t last, but you still couldn’t help the whimper that came from your throat when Miguel let your legs go. He maneuvered you around until his softening cock could slip free and he was able to wrap his body around yours. 

“You’re throwing that cologne away after I fuck you in the shower when we wake up,” Miguel said, and though he was tired, his voice was still full of the command that you were used to. 

“Maybe I should keep it know what it-”

Miguel runs his sharp fangs over the back of your neck, his claws once again making their presence known where his arms are wrapped around your waist. The prick of them cut off your words, but you can’t help the snicker that comes out. 

Nearly on the edge of sleep, Miguel pulls you out, “did you buy it on purpose?”

You let out a yawn before responding, “I wasn’t trying to seduce you, Miguel, I just liked the way it smelled,” you said, hoping that he wasn’t able to hear how your heartbeat stuttered from the lie. 

[smuttyaf]

The Business

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

wc: 4.9k

i made harry v manipulative, ik i need help, i’ll see my therapist this week

“Don’t worry it ain’t mine.”

He makes his way across the room dumping the pile of red and green bills into the sink, his forehead glistens with sweat sweeping over his face, curls sticking along his temples as blood stains cover the white button up.

“Oh my god,” You gasp, fingers dropping the Vogue magazine nearly tripping over your feet rushing towards him. You lean over the island with mouth agape looking at him switch on the facet and begin washing his hands, droplets of blood running down the sink.

“Harry, what happened?” He’s tugging off his ruined blazer, hands going to roll up his sleeves while looking at the money.

“It was fucking unbelievable baby, lemme tell you,” He fumes, pushing away from the sink to cross the room towards the bar.

Harry is ranting about what he’s covered in, hands grabbing the bottle of dark whiskey to pour a glass. The clashing of the cups have your gaze turning away and towards him. The navy tie you wrapped around his neck this morning is drench as he swallows the liquor, his hands shaking with adrenaline, pupils dilated, and breath drawing out heavy; the only thing you can do is rub his shoulders looking up at him with concern eyes.

“Look at this shirt! Look at it, it’s fuckin— ruined!” He takes a swing of his drink. “It happened so fast… Shelly took us to the money… and I’ll tell you something, Mickey he knows his shit, he does!” You back away from his raging tone, fingers wrapping together in front of you listening intently.

“So Shelly takes us to the money, right, it’s in this safe and we have him on his knees when he opens it,” He pauses drinking the rest of his whisky in one go before pouring himself another glass. “I’m looking at this guy thinking to myself holy fuck! How the fuck was he able to do this, steal two million right from under our nose when bang.” He slams the bottle of whisky down hard on the counter beginning to faintly laugh at what happens.

“Johnny caps him, he caps Shelly!” He’s shouting, body turning and stepping towards you with free hand making drastic gestures. “Blood goes flying everywhere! All over me! All over the money! I have no idea if this is even all of it.” Harry swallows back the alcohol while your watching him with heavy eyes crossing your arms over your chest, you can’t help but think to yourself how when even upset with neck going red and thundering voice, Harry still looks so handsome.

“And right then, I go through the roof and punch the dumb son’ of a bitch! I punch him Y/N, right in his dumb fucking face, I didn’t give a shit whose son he was! I just wanted to hit him again, smack some sense into the idiot,” Your eyes immediately look at his bruise knuckles covered in dried blood.

“I mean look at the shit that I gotta fucking deal with now!” He continues, walking off with drink in one hand and other pointing angrily at the money in the sink.

“What are you going to do with it?” You ask turning around, your heels click against the floor boards as Harry begins going through the cabinets.

“I told them to run it through the cycle ya’ know but no! Mickey calls up the old man and he has no other plans so he wants to pick up the money tomorrow night!” Your heart picks up with eyes going wide, Lorenzo coming over tomorrow! You follow over to Harry crouched under the sink. “Where’s the laundry detergent?”

“It’s in the linen cabinet.” You say, eyes floating back to the pile. The sound of him walking off to retrieve it sounds in your ears while you never take your gaze off what sits in front of you.

Two million, all in hundreds, just there. It was alarming that this is where you found yourself six months into your relationship with Harry. You knew from your friends at the gentlemen’s club that he was part of a certain ‘business’ but, once you saw him actually taking the relationship serious and begun confiding, you found out that he had serious connections, and it was clear then what your options were; stay at Jaspers or be a good little doll and spend the rest of your time by his side.

You’ve experienced crazy shit in the last six months together, but nothing like this. The rest of your night was spent cleaning money; soaking it in laundry detergent, hanging them as if they were on a clothing line, Harry would then press them out with an iron before running it through the money counter. That’s all you heard that afternoon, the sound of money. Eventually, six months turns into four years and what you experienced that night didn’t even shake what you’ve seen for the remainder of your relationship. It use to be easy; being able to block out the blood, the screaming, the fighting; you remember not even flinching when waiting in Harry’s Rolls at the shed of light from the assassination outside the car. It weighs on your mind heavy that you’ve grown accustomed to the violence that you’ve begun questioning when you lost your humanity?

You remember feeling scared to shoot a gun when he took you to the range, and now you didn’t even budge. So many things became so normalized to you that in the last four months you were having a realization about the life you once lived and how you became so desensitized. You remember when all you would do is relax: go to the spa, get facials, go shopping, weekly manicures and pedicures appointments until now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to have a night out with your girlfriends since you’re always by Harry’s side.

“Please! I’m sorry! Please!”

Lenny is screaming as the sound of his face smashing against the toilet thunders from inside the bathroom. Your heart is hammering in your chest, teeth biting down on the cherry stain flesh as you feel tears begin to swell your eyes.

“You want to fuck with him right, so now ya’ have to deal with us!” Johnny shouts over him with the sound of gargling being heard next. You immediately press the blend option on the margarita machine to drown out the screaming being heard through the door.

Moments like this make you wish you kept your little condo, how you would have used it for instances like this where Harry would bring someone over to interrogate. You loved the large windows and open living room, it was the perfect size for you. Remember having sleepovers with your friends or lounging in on a Sunday afternoon just in your oversized t-shirt and underwear. You missed your old life, the one that wasn’t filled with bloodshed.

The smell of Baccarat Rouge fills your nose with the feel of warm hands gathering your hair onto one shoulder before they’re trailing down your hips, lips pressing against the skin of your neck when he wraps himself around you. Sucking in a shaky breath, your fingers release the button causing the crushed ice to halt its movements.

“Harry, I’m leaving.” You state, eyes looking at the light green mixture as your fingers fall to the marble counter. You turn around in his hold with tears brimming your eyes, Harry looks at you with a frown on his face, the hands on your waist pull you deeper into him.

“What… why?” He questions, a smile soon shines. “I didn’t use the good towel.”

You roll your eyes pushing him away as you lace your arms together looking up at him upset. “I’m serious Harry. I can’t take this anymore,” You rush, brushing past him with beating heart as you begin making your way towards the stairs. The last couple of months you would tell him that this was becoming too much to bare; screaming men, blood stain clothes and white powder being the only thing you’ve seen for the last four years, you’re tired of it.

That makes him rush to grasp your hands in both of his, pulling you back into him with the sound of muffle crying ringing throughout the space causing you to break. Lonesome tears trail down your cheeks when he tugs you back into his chest, your swallowing quick breaths looking at the white door and the activities going on behind it.

“Why? Ah’ you see,” His hand tearing away from yours and going to wipe your tears. Just like always, the simple gesture has you remembering why you fell in love with him in the first place, not what’s partaking in the background. “Baby that’s what I love about you, you’re so sensitive.” Harry spreads his fingers along your heated cheeks to reach and cup your jaw in his hand. He’s holding you there just like when he rocks into your throat beautifully, he knows what he’s doing, knows that the thoughts that are flowing in his mind is also flowing in yours.

“But I like you here…” He says, stepping in with his lips brushing against yours. “I want you to stay.” His lips sink to touch, your eyes slipping shut as the delicious taste of him seeps in your mouth. The hands once tangled with his run against the material of his chest. Honey bourbon gracing itself on your tongue as he twists himself around you, only making you hum pleasantly before pulling away from him.

“You know… this is hard on me too,” He mutters stepping forward to rock you back and fourth, running kisses down the curve your neck as his hands leave their place and grip your backside. Harry knew what to do just to have you right where he wants, have you drunk off just the small taste of him.

“I’ll tell Johnny to shut him up okay? Is that okay baby?” He whispers in your ear. You swallow hesitantly while nodding your head. Harry reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet he takes out his credit card and waves it in front of your face, small smile on his lips while you have a straight one. “Even better get out of the house and go shopping.” He doesn’t even wait for you to react, he shoves it in your palm before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Pulling away from you his body turns to open the drawers few rows down, he’s grabbing a pair of clippers that make you look away from the metal and back to the melting ice. His footsteps echo against the wooden flooring as he opens the door to the bathroom, the cries are much louder with the shuffle of moving feet.

“Shut this guy up would ya’ Johnny.”

This was the routine lately, say you’re leaving and him winning you back with sweet words and his touch. Telling you to go shopping or on vacation if it was weighing down on your mind that much, this was how it always was now. Chauffeur, champagne, and spending your time in Saint Laurent just thinking about how you got here. If this dream life of being apart of the mafia was what you expected or what your friends gushed about.

You spent your whole evening stepping into each store and buying whatever looks good on you without checking the tag. It’s funny that was what you did now, you use to penny pinch and save your last by the time it was payday till you reached Jaspers. Now, you only shop at name brand stores and dine at restaurants you never thought you would be seated in. The reality of your dreams came true but to what expense? You didn’t have anyone to do it with but Harry. Friends beginning to feel scared around you, security becoming suspicious among normal civilians which leads you to the point where you’re here right now, drinking champagne by yourself in Vivienne Westwood.

By the time you made it home Harry was sitting on the couch, slouched over on his knees with the highlights of the baseball game this afternoon playing. His head snaps towards the elevator, smile on his face as you step through, the chauffeur politely placing your bags on the table next to the entrance before smiling to leave.

“Did you buy the whole store?” He chirps, lips widening as you make your way towards the sofa and place the rest of your shopping on the coffee table. You fit yourself next to him, your arm lying against the cushion while your elbow props up your head.

Harry turns towards you his eyes roaming amongst your face till they fall on the long sleeve black dress you ventured out in, his stare drinking you in as he looks at your lips longingly. You let him admire you through, remembering when he first saw you at Jaspers and he would look at you like this, trying to control himself from pining you down and having his way. As he cherishes your beauty you can’t help but do the same. His hair dishevelled with gel as loose curls fall across his forehead, there are buttons undone exposing his chest tattoos with his flesh red and cheeks glowing from the alcohol in his system, even in this state he looks so dazzling. Licking your bottom lip it breaks his trance, he reaches over and lights a cigarette as he leans back into the couch.

“I wish you would stop smoking those,” You say, hand going to the curls by his neck.

“I wish you would stop telling me you’re leaving.” Turning to look at you with liquor on his breath and eyes glossy, he draws in his cigarette. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you break the gaze and let them lead to the white and orange bags in front of you, fingers dropping from his neck you card them through your hair and shake your head.

“I don’t know when I became so use to it H. I —I feel like I’m not me anymore?” You confide, tone small while he nods his head, still looking at you when he’s inhaling as his free hand begins running up your thigh.

“I understand baby, you know I understand.” He coos, the smell of whiskey fills your nose as he moves in deeper. His addicting aura swaying you with the way his presence is so magnetic; he wasn’t even touching you intimately, yet already you were under his control.

“It’s hard sometimes but that’s why I do this job, right… and that’s why you,” He’s tearing the hand away from his lips and letting his thumb run against your cheek, your eyes move away from the bags and lock with his green ones. “You sit and look pretty, yeah?” He says nodding his head. You push your lips together, gaze dropping to the cross hanging on his chest.

“Is that all I am to you now?” You question. “Just a pretty face?”

His thumb doesn’t stop its movements and his gaze doesn’t wavier when he shakes his head either. He was so intimidating with his tactile actions and slow movements. It didn’t help that he was handsome too, because even when you’re questioning your place in Harry’s life your panties are dripping with the way he’s looking at you.

“You already know that but, you also know that I love you for reasons more than your beauty.” Voice deep and dripping in honey as he searches your eyes; like when he had you to himself for the first time, staring at you as if he could see right through, as if he knew every thought brewing. He’s taking the cigarette back between his lips to suck on the batch before throwing it into the ashtray.

“I know I haven’t been around here lately, know I’ve been out dealing with everything but I need you here, keep my bed nice and warm, right?” Nodding your head, you lean off your arm and take Harry’s hands into yours. Feeling over every prominent vein and bone, running the pads of your fingertips over his knuckles as his lips press into the side of your neck, cologne and smoke immediately overwhelming you.

“You love me?” You ask, his fingers intertwining with yours as he begins trailing his kisses to your cheeks.

“I love you like the moon loves the stars.” He breathes against your skin, his words sloppy and low that it has you moaning softly.

His lips slip onto yours, tongue delving into your mouth and wasting no time to lick into every part. Salvia dripping from his tongue and into every crevice as his hand spreads over your thighs, shoving your body deeper into the couch as he drinks you in. Muscles moving against each other, breathless whimpers escaping the space, your fingers trail to his broad shoulders as he presses against you.

You know he’s drunk, that’s all you taste on his tongue aside from the cigarette. He was rocking his hips into your heat steadily as your almond nails run up the hairs of his neck, your lips tearing away when you look at him. Olive pupils with bruise lips, the smell of him was everywhere, you couldn’t leave him even if you tried he was so addicting like the nicotine in the air.

“Hm, you’re gonna stay here with me,” Harry says, leaning back on his knees to unbutton the rest of his long sleeve as you open your legs up in front of him. “Keep the fire nice and warm.” He hush, his fingers sliding to your thighs and slipping under the material to feel against your skin.

You suck in a breath, watching him slowly as he hovers over you between your legs, one hand rubbing you over the lace of your panties and the other rubbing the skin of your neck. You love when he submits his dominance over you, how he’s staring at you daringly and never breaking eye contact as he touches the most pleasurable part.

“Harry,” You breathe, eyes fluttering when he slips his finger under the lace and begins to run the the pads of his fingers in heavy circles.

He hums at the expression crossing your face, watching the way your chest heaves up and down and hips twitch for sped up movements. Tongue escaping his mouth and running over his bottom lip, your eyes catch on the thickness bulging against his zipper. Your hand immediately going out and feeling over him. He was hard like when you danced for him the first time, your hips swivelling against his in slow movements as you rode him through his clothes. You felt how desperate he was begging to be freed and find himself buried in your walls, however that night he didn’t get access to what he has now. Only making the groan in his throat more drawn out as the pressure on your neck increases.

“Be my good girl, yeah?” He breathes, hips rocking in your moving palm as he slips his finger into you. Moans trail out as your gaze turns away from the black trousers and to pearly white teeth tucking his bottom lip away.

Nodding your head lightly you let your hands begin to undo the buckle of his belt, pulling down the metal zipper and retrieving the thickness that you want buried between your legs. Mouth watering at the sight, your tongue slithers out of your mouth to run against the skin of his head. Lapping around the girth till your running down the length, tastebuds coating him in spit as he stands angry and red before you.

You’re so caught up in the beauty of Harry, that the pleasure he sends your way is one of shock, his finger leaving your folds to skim against your clit to delve back in you again. Motions starting slow to soon pick up in pace as the palm of his hand rubs against your bundle of nerves, his middle finger sending arousal down your thighs. Moans of pleasure leave your lips when you look at him, one hand jerking off his cock while the other plays with the globes between his legs, you let your lips envelope him; plump and glossy expanding over every vein along his shaft.

He continues to let his finger slip in you so teasingly as you moan around him, gaze caught between his happy trail and into his green eyes, how they are focus on your lips wrapped around him that leave lipstick streaks in their wake. You’re tipsy off just the feel of him, his hand holding your neck as he rocks into your mouth happily, groans leaving him as he fits himself nicely in your throat.

Another digit joins his movements, walls dripping in your juices as they welcome the extra fit. A long muffle cry escapes you as he spreads your walls blissfully, your mouth stretching with each thrust of Harry sinking down while he has you completely spread open in the living room. His fingers curling deeply in your pussy as your chest heaves with every breath before he’s sliding back down your throat.

Skin begins to glisten with sweat, hands going sticky with spit as you stoke him, eyes fighting to look up at him and the tattoos peaking from his button up. You let your hips swivel against his palm, rubbing your clit deeper into his touch as he slides in, it causes your mouth to slip Harry’s cock out with a pleasurable moan with the way he’s driving his fingers into your heat.

He’s been watching you wither underneath him since he had you in this position, looking at you come undone with only two fingers. He loves the expression on your face; brows pinch together as your small hands glide up his shaft, pink roaming amongst your cheeks to your breast begging to be freed from their confines. Harry lets you get off in his hands, he likes the way you rub yourself in his palm, he likes the way your arousal is coating him, he likes how you’re so needy for him.

Mouth electing another moan at the feeling of him sinking deeper he catches your gaze, Harry gliding his thumb over your bottom lip, their smudge red from you running them all over his member as your fingers lazily stroke him, he’s following your motions with your hips only causing your head to lean back with pleasure.

“Fuck Harry,” You cry, hips runting deeper into him when he leans down letting his lips connect with yours. The delicious taste of him spreading over you as he licks his way into your mouth feels like heaven. Adrenaline courses through your body as you twirl your tongues against each other completely lost in the way he’s making you feel and running through your veins. He smells so good, taste so exquisite, why did you ever think you could just leave. The way he makes you feel is why you stay through all the fucked up things so, why even put up a fuss when you knew where you would be once the sunsets.

“Come here love,” Harry says, pulling his embrace away from you and making you stand up. You pull your dress over your head, letting your fingers teasingly remove your undergarments as you know Harry is watching as he tugs at himself.

He lets you lie with your back against his chest, head on his arm as he takes himself into his hands and begins to run his dick over your folds. Pleasant sigh leaving when you’re lifting your thigh up to angle with Harry’s hips just in the right moment to were he slips into your pussy. The thickness of him stretching you out has you moaning loudly with your head falling deeper into his touch.

Harry sinking into you for the first time will always surprise you, the way he fills you up so thick and heavy, drawing down your walls lazily till he reaches your cervix before sliding out and pushing back in. He was always so gentle before he felt you loosen up around him, feeling the way you drip down his length and quiver with each draw of his hips.

There was a mixture of moans, whimpers, cries and groans shared between you both and floating around the heated atmosphere. His free hand holding your thigh up as he picks up his paste graciously. He’s lunging into you, chest clinging to his button up that is soaked with sweat as he leans in and presses kisses into your damp skin. The hairs by the end of your neck cling to you as your body moves with every thrust.

“Who’s gonna make you feel like this?” Harry taunts, his cock driving down your walls angrily as he fucks you. You can’t help the whimper that travels out from his words with the way he’s burying you into the couch.

“Huh? Who’s gonna fuck you like this if you leave?” Voice in your ear so deep and sexy that it makes you take your hand away from the grey leather and run them through his curls, head turning as your mouth hangs slightly open as your body rakes with complete ecstasy.

“Mhm… look at your pretty face,” Harry says, dropping your thigh and wrapping his hand around your throat, only making you sigh out in pleasure as you feel rushed kisses and the sound his hips meeting your backside overcoming the interviewers on tv.

“No one can fuck you like this, right?” He’s huffing in your ear, grip tightening around your throat as your eyes flutter open, the burning sensation of your clit throbbing in pleasure tingling down your thighs. Shaking your head in between movements your fingers trail themselves out of his curls and to the hand on your neck, feeling over his touch as he pounds down your walls. His movements so deep and fast that you can’t even speak anymore, not even cry out in pleasure.

“That’s right, no one can fuck you like me, huh.” He continues, his teeth biting down softly on your cartilage as the vibrating feeling of your orgasm cashes down on you.

God, you hate that he was so proud with the way he can have you coming undone and knowing just how. The way he rams into your heat with such aggression that it has your eyes rolling back and nails digging into the skin of his hand, the grip he’s holding on your throat only making your motions escalate to your hips quivering away from Harry’s at the exploding feeling drumming in your core.

Chest heaves up and down as your lower half twitches against him, eyes fluttering up at the chandelier high in the ceiling to the oak spiral staircase, your mind in a complete haze as you shudder against Harry, his shaft still pumping away inside you as you try to collect yourself from the riveting feelings coursing through you.

“Look so sexy all over me,” He husks, your creaminess sliding down his cock as he releases the hold on your throat. His hand slips to your stomach burning in arousal as holds you there, his hips not letting up as he continues to fuck you into the sofa.

“Oh god Harry please,” You cry, eyes opening and following his movements as you let your hands trace over his and backside meet his movements. “Come in my pussy, please.” You whimper, his teeth tearing away from your ear and lips sticking to your temple as he hums to your words.

“That’s right baby. Only I can come in your pussy cause you’re all mine, right?” He utters, fingers dragging over the skin of your stomach as you nod your head softly.

“Yes all yours.” You sigh, teeth biting down on your lip as the feeling of him stretching you out has you lightheaded.

“Fuck you look so good like this,” Harry breathes into your warm skin, his hand wiping the strands of hair off your lips. He looks at the way your throat bobs with each lazy swallow, listens to the tiny whine you make when his balls press right against your folds, feels the way he slides into you effortlessly from the juices flowing out that he can’t help the long groan that escapes him when he feels his seed spill into your walls.

Your arousal mixing with his runs down your sweaty thighs while heavy breaths escape you, your version lies tirelessly on the packages in front of you while Harry’s hand goes to play with the hairs framing your face when you move around in his hold.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the television playing as he tangles his fingers through your locks and lets the other drape down the expanse of your stomach. The sound of his heart slows as does yours in the space between you both. Lungs finding balance with feet tangling together, the sound of Harry sighing behind you makes you turn your attention to him.

“I know you want to leave but just stay. Just for a little longer.”

[heavenlyvision]

Distracted

Pairing: Simon Riley (Ghost) x afab!reader

Wc: 1.3k

Not my usual content, I'm gonna apologise for this but I'm really not sorry.... so... sorry </3 Please don’t stone me, I just want to fuck the big, masked man :<

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, established relationship, vaginal fingering, p in v penetration, cockwarming, no use of pronouns or y/n, i think that's all !!!

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Simon coming home was always something you looked forward to, the days following where you get to spend time together in domestic bliss are memories you treasure when he inevitably has to leave again. It’s a cycle; one you have both gotten used to and never fully adjust to. For example, entering the kitchen and seeing him there makes your heart race with excitement and happiness to see him but also slight shock from forgetting someone else lives with you. Having him home is always better though, you wouldn’t trade these days for the world.

This time round, you had finally gotten him to cave into your will and watch one of your favourite movies with you. One you had seen so often that you could recite back monologues from it in your sleep. Normally, your eyes would be glued to the screen, ecstatic and waiting for each of your favourite scenes to play but you also wanted to watch Simon’s reactions to them.

This has created an unforeseen issue though because your boyfriend is so… distracting. He’s not doing anything, not anything outwardly but he’s in his casual clothes, legs spread wide on the couch and carefully watching the screen, seemingly intrigued by what you’ve put on.

Your head is clouded by thoughts of him, he’s been home for a few days now and you’ve still not been intimate. Too content to be in each other’s presence to have sex but you’re feeling it now. The need that claws up your spine, his absence always has you craving him but you usually calm down when he’s home and you can hug him, touch him.

Even though you’ve been together for a couple years now, you still hesitate to reach out to him, too afraid to upset him or do something wrong – you never have and he’s always been reciprocal to your touch but you still worry. Plus, he genuinely looks invested in the movie and you don’t want to start something when he’s having a nice time. That doesn’t stop you from subtly watching him or slightly rubbing your thighs together though, your need for him slowly overwhelming you the longer you take glances at him.

Simon sighs beside you, he doesn’t look at you as he asks, “What’s wrong, what are you fidgeting for?”

His deep voice shoots straight through you, your thighs clench together, “Nothing, sorry.”

He looks to you out the corner of his eye, his gaze runs over you for a moment, taking you in, observing your body language. He catches on fairly quickly, always knowing how you’re feeling just from a glance, “Come here.” His hand pats his lap.

You shuffle closer but hesitate to get on him, when you don’t immediately sit on his lap, his hands grab you and position you so you’re straddling him. His large hands skate up and down your thighs, caressing your skin.

They move higher, pushing the hem of your shirt up, revealing your lack of shorts. He doesn’t say anything but he smiles smugly and raises his eyebrow at you slightly.

You go to defend yourself, “I’m more comfortable like this.”

“I said nothing,” his hands move back down your thighs again, pulling at your skin as he goes.

You squirm against him, “I know what you were thinking.”

He breathes out an airy chuckle, “I’m certain you didn’t, love.” His fingers tickle against your inner thighs, trailing higher.

You sigh at his touch, “I missed you…”

“Mmm, I can tell,” he comments as his thumb presses into the wet spot on your panties.

A light gasp pulls from you at his touch, your hips stuttering slightly, seeking the friction.

He continues talking, his thumb putting minimal contact on your clit, “I was getting real into the movie, you know?” He says that but his eyes are glued to his hand playing with you through your panties.

You feel bashful, “Sorry…” He pulls his hand away and you want to complain but you feel bad for ruining the movie for him.

“Don’t need you to be sorry,” his tone is gruff, his hand reaches under his waist band and pulls his hard cock out, “Need you to sit on me.” He groans as his hand starts to stroke himself, his cock painfully erect, tip leaking profusely.

“Si–”

“–Lovie, need you to wrap your pretty cunt around me,” His eyes are dazed, not really focused on anything right now, too caught up thinking about your slick heat swallowing him.

You shuffle closer to him and sit up on your knees, his fingers push your panties to the side. He lets out a low groan as he runs his fingers through your wetness, they slip over your pussy, he’s distracted now, eyes intently watching your cunt and how you react to him. His finger slips into you with some resistance, the stretch eased by how slick you are for him.

You almost buckle over; your hands reach out to his shoulders to hold yourself up. He tries to supress it but you can see the smallest hints of a smirk on his lips, he looks to you, “Gone too long, was I?” It’s not really a question, especially since he’s not done talking, “Fuck– you’re so goddamn tight, Mm gonna have to fuck you open…” He trails off, not because he’s done talking but because he’s fucking his finger into you and has gotten distracted again.

The wet noises that your cunt makes for him is obscene, it has you shying away from him and wanting to hide but his hand speeds up, wanting to hear more. You’re whimpering quietly, trying to hold in the noises he’s pulling from you effortlessly.

You gasp out to him, trying to convey your desire, “I need –ah–”

He hums at you, “Mmm, I know…”

His finger pulls from you and you can’t help the pathetic whine the loss has you making, he doesn’t even try to hide his smile this time, shamelessly grinning at your need. You pout at him but that just seems to further his enjoyment.

“Go on, lovie, take what you need,” His hands hold onto your hips, letting you take your time.

You take him in your hand and his chest stutters slightly, your pussy hovers over him. You’re nervous to take him, it’s been a while since you last had him and it’s always a little daunting to take him fully after he’s come back. He’s being ever so patient though, his fingers dig into your hips but he doesn’t move you, he continues to let you do this at your own pace. 

You notch his tip at your pussy hole, your stomach flutters with anticipation, slowly you start to take him. It’s slow and it takes you a bit to take his tip, Simon is groaning under you, his fingers digging into your flesh, barely holding onto sanity.

“You need to relax,” his voice is strained, his thumb moves to your clit, rubbing circles into it, trying to help you take him easier.

You sigh on him, your pussy sinking down further, he chokes slightly at the feeling of your tight, hot cunt taking more of him. His head falls to the back of the couch, the way you continue to take him as him seeing stars, the last time he got off being too long ago.

You moan his name quietly when you take all of him, his pelvis pressed to your clit, you grind down into him, his hands facilitate you. Groans get stuck in his throat, his mind swimming with thoughts about you and how tight you are.

Suddenly, he stops your movements, hands holding you completely still on him, he looks you in the eye, “You’re gonna sit here and keep my cock warm while I finish this movie you love so much.”

You whine at him, “Wait, what?”

“Should’ve waited till it was finished, love,” he smirks at you but he’s one hundred percent serious.

He’s going to have you crying on his dick before the film is over, you just know it.

𖦹₊⊹

Thank you for reading :3 i hope you enjoyed (if you're one my mk followers, please be nice to me, I LIKE THE BIG MASKED MAN, SUE ME)

[slu7]

ᶻz﹒ dragon!zhongli & afab!reader ﹐

– cw﹕ zl having heat cycles · breeding kink · feral zl · jealousy becoming a sex drive or smt · non-con if you squint (not my intention) · overstim · creampies · use of the terms ‘cunt’ & ‘cock’ · etc. ✶

– an﹕ this has been rotting in my brain and i have no idea whether someone already wrote this or not,

B Ü T I M A G I N E ⁺ ☆

okay but imagine you being born and growing up in mondstadt but travelling to liyue only to end up marrying the geo archon himself. imagine if zhongli has heat cycles and you being his lovely little wife, you help him throughout every cycle he goes through. imagine him whispering how much he wants to fill you to the brim, fill you ‘til you're full of him and overflowing whenever that time comes. imagine zhongli not stopping even for a moment to give you a break after your nth orgasm because he's too lost in pleasure. him rutting into you as if he has been holding back his desire for the longest time.

all your pleas for him to go slower falls through deaf ears, your body shaking and walls continuously clenching as zhongli continues to pound into your sopping cunt. the combination of pain and pleasure leaves you babbling incoherent words, whilst deep grunts and curses leaves his swollen lips; words muffled as his lips are still attached to the nape of your neck. kissing, licking, sucking, marking you as his.

hours pass by but it seems that he's not even halfway done with you. you could always use your safe word, but the pleasure you're feeling is replacing your words with moans and whines. oh, how he loved how you're singing for him. zhongli fucked you with precision and it only made you see stars. his lips never leaving you as his hands fondles with you softly.

you're approaching, yet again, another climax, you writhed and squirmed in his hold. he held your hips and continued to fuck you with fervor. “fuck– oh lord barbatos,” you whined as you approach your high. his movements suddenly halting. you realized what you said and it was like digging your own grave. it took him only a few seconds before he continued to rut into you, with greater eagerness and passion. and it went on for hours and hours, he fucked you with vigor as if he was molding his cock into your walls, coming undone inside you like your heart constantly pumping blood. he wanted to show you that it was morax who was making you feel this good, not barbatos, not anyone else.

© slu7 · 2022

strictly do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my blog. reblogs, feedback, and hearts are highly appreciated!

[whiskeynwriting]

Pure Ecstasy and Delight

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

A/B/O dynamics, Alpha!Simon, degradation, mask kink, breeding kink, some spit, marking, biting, dry humping, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, brief oral sex (f receiving), lmk if I missed anything!

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A/N: First ever A/B/O fic goes to the one and only Simon “Ghost” Riley. I'm sooo so new to this, so pls be kind 🥺❤️

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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It’s not enough, and yet, you don’t do anything to stop it. You’re the one continuing, actually, the one who chose this, the one that shoved him down onto the bed and climbed over him. It was as if you couldn’t think, like you weren’t right in the head. That familiar, hazy cloud was blinding, and Simon loved taking advantage of it. 

Watching you move over him like this isn’t anything new, it’s how most of your cycles started, actually. Being as close as physically possible to him, rubbing your body on him, begging for him. And he was cocky as all hell when seeing you like this. Even now, he’s laying there, one arm curled back to support his head. Every now and then, you hear - feel, a deep chuckle rumble through his chest. He likes this, likes being there for you through this. 

Your rushed and sloppy movements are dizzying, trying to get as much friction as possible while both of you are still fully clothed. Huffing out an exhausted breath, you fall forward onto him, resting over his chest. But you don’t stop moving. If anything, the heat coiling in your belly only burns brighter, hotter, your hips in constant motion. You’ve already cum once like this, and you’re sure you can do it again. Lazily, Simon’s free hand comes to rest on your hips, moving with your body while you thrust yourself onto him. And it’s only when you begin to whimper, that he finally speaks. 

“Look at you…” Ghost grumbles, eyes already half-lidded with want. “My perfect bitch in heat.”

Lifting your head, you rest your cheek against the hard shell of his mask, whining. Opening your mouth, your tongue lays out, licking a small stripe up the side of that alluring mask. The wet muscle roams the curves and divots there, and you end up keeping your mouth open for so long that saliva begins to drip onto him. It’s sloppy, it’s shameful, and he fucking loves it. 

One thing Simon absolutely adored about you, was that you didn’t act like the typical Omega. Upon your first meeting, he’d almost believed you were an Alpha, even a Beta, at least. But the smell you exuded when he was in your presence gave everything away. Nevertheless, you’re a feisty little thing, you fight for what you want; and you impressed him. Upon your first few intimate encounters, Ghost discovered that instead of laying down to submit, like any Omega would, you presented yourself to him. You’d lean forward on your knees, shoving your ass into the air and spreading yourself, fluttering and just waiting for him. You were so eager to have him, eager for him to have you. And clearly, nothing has changed.

Simon’s smell saturated every one of your senses, filling your body with pure ecstasy and delight. His body tensed beneath you, trying to restrain himself, trying to let you do this before he shoved you down and fucked you dumb. That was inevitable, of course, and he knows it’s exactly what you want. But he figures he’ll let you get this out of your system, too. 

By the time he found you, he’d actually felt bad. You were wandering the base, looking for him. He knew when your heat was due and you were shocked to not see him anywhere near you, which usually meant something important was keeping him busy. And when you finally discovered that he was in a meeting with Price, you marched back to his room to sulk. 

Piling up Simon’s dirty clothes, you plopped them onto his bed, nuzzling into them, humping them. You paid no mind to the sound of your own voice, nor how high it was becoming while you whined his name, begging for him to come back. And when he finally did, walking in on you like that… was quite the fucking sight. Sure, you’d made a small nest of his things in the past, but never before has he walked in on you rubbing yourself over them. As soon as Ghost stepped into his room, he could instantly smell the heat on you, and seeing his Omega so needy for him made his pride shine. The decision to walk in and let you do whatever you wanted to him before he laid you down to breed your pliant little body, was both easy and quick. 

“Simon,” Gasping against his faux face, you feel Ghost’s free hand slide up to your back, rubbing it kindly. 

“I’m here, love.” And for the first time tonight, he finally moves, pushing his hips up against you. “Do what you want,” He encourages sweetly, quietly. Turning his head, he rubs his forehead against your own, inhaling deeply. “Please yourself… let me see.” 

Finding the junction of his neck, your teeth come out, digging into his gland. You’ve given each other these bites before, marking the other as your mate. But every time you connect, you can’t help but do it again, claiming the other so physically, so carnally. Simon tilts his head back when you do it, too, displaying his throat for you. And all you do is bite, bite into his skin and suck on it until it’s purple and red, inhaling his scent, wanting to forever wear it. 

“Mouth,” Comes your sudden, soft cry. “I want your mouth.”

Simon grins. “Then find it.” 

As soon as he gives you permission, your hands are scrambling up his chest and to his neck, finding the edge of his covering and lifting it. He allows you to remove it completely, smiling at you in the dimness of his room. But you barely have time to admire his beauty before laying your palms on his face and diving down. In an instant, your lips are on his, mouths opening and swapping spit. Ghost lifts his chin then, meeting your movements. Your kisses were always sloppy, always hungry; and Simon loved it. The feeling of his mouth on your own after not seeing him for so long while you’ve needed him so bad, it sets your skin alight, fire burning beneath your outer layer and shooting right to your very soul. This is your partner, your mate, the one you’re bonded to. 

Simon’s groans echo into your mouth as you slowly devour him, shoving your tongue past his lips while breathing heavily against him. It aroused you both, the way he allowed this, allowed you to act out these aggressive bursts of arousal before he took control again. 

A chuckle rumbles from his throat when you suck his tongue past your lips, pulsing your own around the wet muscle. Your lover grins, voice deep as he says, “You like sucking on my tongue?”

“Yes, baby.” It’s the crack in your voice, the slight whimper that it is… that so easily displays your submissiveness. 

At that moment, Ghost’s hands slide beneath your shirt, touching the skin along your hips. And the sensation forces a shiver through your center, immediately leaning in to shove your face into his neck. 

“When’re you gonna let me take you, huh?” He asks lowly into your ear. “When’re you finally gonna stop with these horny little actions?”

“Now,” Instantly, you’re wanting to please him. “W-Whenever you want.”

With a harsh grunt, Simon is forcing you back and off of him, turning to toss you down onto his bed. Standing, he stares down at you, calming his own breaths while removing his shirt. He’s all too eager for this. And with a single nod and you’re undressing yourself, too, following his movements. You mirror him, doing as he does, removing each piece in the same fashion. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Simon grins, shaking his head. “Doing whatever I do, whatever I want you to do.”

All your response consists of is a slow nod, alongside those sweet, charming, doe-like eyes. And that drives him wild inside. 

Staring up at Simon, at the broad, strong man that he is, all you can feel is an overwhelming sensation of gratefulness. You feel insanely, incredibly, undeniably lucky. Simon is an amazing Alpha - he’s everything you could ever want. Strong, tall and broad, high-ranking and respected. Simon commanded any room he walked into, and it made you nearly fall to your knees the first time you met him. Thank god it didn’t take long for him to catch on to your likeness. But aside from all that, he cared for you, he provided for you. With him, you never had to want for anything. With him, you were safe. 

Tossing his items down on the bed, he makes sure to scatter them, laying them out in your nest. He knows the best smell will come from the most recent clothes he’s worn. His shirt, his pants, even his socks and boxers, all slightly damp from sweat and he knows the scent is sure to drive you mad. 

“God,” Inhaling a sharp breath, Ghost dives down, hovering over you and grabbing onto your jaw. Dark eyes rake over your features, over your naked body. “I fucking love you.” It’s the last thing he says before crushing his mouth to yours, spare hand sliding up to your chest. 

Beneath his fingertips, the ones wrapped around your jaw, he can feel your heartbeat. Oh, how rapid it becomes for him. And he can feel his own picking up speed, as well. The blood beneath his skin runs hot throughout his body, rushing wildly in his ears. The constant, powerful thump in his chest, the thrum of arousal flooding his crotch, it consumes him.

“Baby, ple-please.” With how ravenous his mouth has become, you can barely get a word out, let alone a proper breath. It’s all spit and tongue, your teeth clashing every now and then. He just wants to ravage you, break you apart so he can put you back together again. His passion is also evident in the way that he grabs you, fisting your breast in his hand. 

Before ripping himself away from you, Simon’s mouth slides down to your neck, lips dragging over the delicate skin before he reaches the junction of your shoulder. As soon as he’s there, he’s biting into you, teeth digging into your gland while inhaling the beautiful aroma you exude. The pain fades when your hips cant upwards, just barely able to rub against him. 

“Turn over,” Simon finally decides, forcing himself away from your neck. With heavy breaths, he backs away, giving you the room to move. “Present for me.” Simon always liked having you bent over on your knees.

Quickly, you scramble to satisfy him, turning over with a wild grin crossing your face. The way you arch your back has him groaning, one hand lifting to lazily swat at your ass. And even that light of a hit shows you how much strength his body possesses. You’re more than aware of that, of how powerful Simon’s body is, and still, you choose to be at his mercy. You want to be. Laid out for him to admire, for him to take. This powerful killer, holding everything that you are in the palm of his hand, it’s exhilarating. 

Reaching forward, Simon finds one of your hands, pulling it back until it’s on your ass. His silent gesture is clear as day to you, your fingertips digging into the plump skin to spread yourself open for him. 

“Thaaaaaat’s it,” Shuffling behind you, his breaths are audible, arousal flooding his body once again. “Just like that, wide open for me.”

Grabbing himself, you can hear just how slick he’s become, the squelch of his prespend beneath his moving fist. You’d give anything to see him right now, the redness of his head, veins throbbing throughout his shaft. But you don’t have time for that, not when you’re so visibly in heat. 

Ghost’s tip spreads your lips from behind, his eyes trained on where you’re due to connect. Unlike his normal antics, Simon doesn’t make you wait, he doesn’t tease you or tell you to beg. Right now, his Omega needs him. And so, he slides right in.

“Simon,” Your one hand grasps for the sheets, feeling how heavy he is inside. Turning your head, your cheek rests against his pillow, forcing an overload of Ghost’s scent through your system. It’s now that you smell his dampened clothes, his shirt and boxers laying just beside your face. Eyes closing, an incredibly wanton moan floats from your mouth, simply from experiencing it. 

“Oh… Christ.” Bottoming out, Simon grunts quietly, throbbing against your walls. You’ve taken him so many times that it’s an easy transition, feeling him fill you. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t an incredible stretch, the pleasure burning through your system from it. 

The sigh you exude is one of absolute pleasure and relaxation, your need finally being sated - for now. But at the moment, you’re just focusing on him, how he feels, how he holds you, those broad hands grabbing onto your hips. Forcing his pelvis forward, Simon grinds into you, his own jaw dropping. Almost as if he can’t help himself, he’s falling over you, firm chest pressing into your back. He holds his weight above your own, keeping you safe and surrounding you in his scent. 

“Baby,” Reaching back, you find his hair, fingers tangling into the golden locks sweetly. “My Alpha…”

And that ignites something inside him. Tilting his head downward, he drags his nose up your spine, lips landing on your shoulder blade. His breath tickles your skin, his barely-there stubble. One, strong pulse then resonates through him, feeling your walls hold him tight.

“I’m yours,” Ghost promises in that deep, baritone of a voice. “I am… and you’re mine.”

He continues to move, tilting his chin upward so he can kiss the back of your neck, breathing against you while wrapping his arms around your midsection. 

“Please,” You’d been doing your best to be well behaved for him, to not outwardly beg too much, but you need this. “Please, Simon. You’re here, you’re inside me… I need you.”

A small snarl spills from his lips as he pulls out about halfway before shoving himself back in. And from the start, his pace is brutal, skin hot to the touch as it rubs along your own. His breaths are ragged and deep, eyes watching the way your backside bounces against him. Already, he can hear your panting, slithering a hand down to your clit so he can hear you whine. 

“That easy, huh?” He goads, feeling your body shake after only a few circles around the sensitive bud. “Perfect little slag.” Leaning in, Simon plants a sloppy kiss onto your cheek, urging you on. “Cum on me, love. Feels so good when you do.” 

“S-Simon,” It’s all you need to unravel, your thighs shaking from the pleasure and his brute force. He’s already punching himself against that pleasurable spot deep inside your walls, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. 

He can feel the way you spasm around him, can feel the slickness of your arousal coating his shaft. But he doesn’t stop, he rides you through it, fucking himself into you again and again. 

“Good little Omega,” Ghost purrs against your cheek, lowering his head to bite into your neck. 

Your eyes have rolled back into your head, pleasure reaching every one of your nerve endings. It washes over your body, through your hips, your limbs, up through your chest. It feels explosive, and satisfying, a start to fully satiating the primal need growing in your belly. 

With your body going relatively limp, Simon lifts himself from you, one hand staying on your hips to hoist you further into the air. And then his other is grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face into the mattress, into the wet clothes he’d added to your nest. The motion is surprisingly rough, igniting a new spark already licking up your spine. 

“Smell it.” Simon demands, pushing your face into the fabric. “Smell me - scent yourself with it.”

He can barely hear your moans, every beautiful sound and deep inhale muffled by the fabric. This is all you want, to be covered in it, in him. There hasn’t been a single day where you haven’t been elated to wear to his scent, to show the world you’re taken. And not just by anyone, but by him. 

“Listen to you,” He’s panting out every breath, pumping himself into your welcoming walls. “So fucking wet. How many times have you cum, love? Two, maybe three?” And then he finds himself overcome with the urge to taste, to lick up the arousal spilling between your legs.

“Baby,” Your whine is high and shrill, feeling empty without him.

“Hush,” Ghost returns firmly, pulling out and bending down. 

Little time goes by before your questions disappear, feeling Simon’s mouth connect with your pink lips.

“Oh…” Slumping down, you sigh, relaxing into his touch. 

Holding your hips, Simon presses his face into you, licking into your hole. He can taste the remnants of your orgasm, can smell your combined scent. The sloppy squelch of his insistent mouth against your sex can be heard throughout the room, forcing a delicious smirk across your lips. But the knot building at the base of his shaft forces him back up, diving between your legs once again. 

“G-Ghost, Simon!” With the combination of his mouth and cock, you’re near overstimulation. 

“It’s so goddamn easy,” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You cum so easy like this.” And when you’re in heat, how can you not? 

“M-More,” Your arms are trembling, feeling absolutely conquered by your mate. But still, you’re hungry, wanting.

“What? Has my sweet Omega not had enough?”

“I need more.” Groaning, you toss your head back, feeling Simon’s chest return. 

“I’ll give you more.” Simon snarls against your ear, biting into it. And then he’s returning to the marks he’s already made, teeth imprinting into your skin, blossoming bruises just beneath the surface. There’s one bite in particular that draws blood and has you shrieking, Simon’s tongue lapping at it shortly after. 

“I can f-feel it.”

“Yeah? You feel it growing?” 

“I want it.”

“I know you do, and I’m gonna give it to you. Fill you, fuck you full and plug you with it.” His promises are spoken through quiet gasps, his own high nearing. “Christ, I need this. Always will… gorgeous, wet fucking hole. I’ll always need you.”

Listening to him say he needs you, that he needs this connection with you, makes your entire head spin. Tears form near the lashes along your eyes, feeling safe and secure with him, wanted by him. 

“Simon, please. Give it to me.” Every vein, every heavy pulse, are all felt along your velvety walls. 

All Simon can smell is you, your sweet aroma. He salivates at the sensation of it, wanting nothing more than to claim it for himself. And he’s glad to do so, over and over again. It’s addictive - you draw him in like some seductive siren, appearing so charming and innocent. And to an extent, you are, until that filthy side comes out.

“Fuck,” Your lover grunts, voice slightly higher as he breathes out the word. 

The knot growing at his base is slowly but surely catching on the thin rim of your lips, the feeling painful but worth it. The heat radiating from your body spills over to him, warming him, telling Simon’s body that it’s safe to release. 

Hard and sharp thrusts burst from his pelvis, forcing his flushed cock into your slick entrance. It’s delicious, the euphoria coursing through him, his jaw dropping, eyes drooping. Now that he’s fulfilled your need, his duty to you during this time, he becomes selfish. Pressing himself flush against your plush backside, Simon stills, body trembling. His base swells, knot plugging your entrance while he floods your insides. Strong hips rock against your own, pumping his spend into you, feeling it rush from his tip. 

“Alpha,” It’s the only thing spilling from your lips, your sex throbbing fiercely around him. 

“G-Give it to you, I’ll give it to you. Keep you full, breed this cunt.” 

“Simon,” Crying out softly for him, you feel his body begin to fully relax, breaths puffing out of his chest. It feels warm, your insides coated in a thick layer of his arousal. 

“Mine, always mine. Always, love.”

“I know,” Nodding, you sigh out, feeling his lips kiss along your back. “Always.” 

At this point, you expect to rest, feeling his weight crush you comfortably until the swelling at his base subsides. But to your surprise, he pulls you back, maneuvering the two of you down onto the bed. Simon keeps your back against his chest, holding you from behind and finally allowing you to relax. 

Ghost knows you’ll need more, and he’ll give it to you when he can. But for now, he holds you, face dipping down to find the marks he’s left on your skin. With long, slow movements, he licks them, showing the slightest bit of remorse. 

“Was I too hard on you?”

“No, no, not at all.” A bright smile forms on your lips, admiring his gentler side. “You know I love it, Si.” 

“Mm,” Humming quietly, Ghost closes his eyes, keeping himself between your legs while mending the indentations he’s left in your skin. 

If anyone were to walk into the room right now, it’d wreak of arousal and sweat, of adoration and commitment. But neither of you have to worry about that, few people on base would dare to interrupt this. One of your most intimate moments, shared just between the two of you. Once again, you feel lucky, covered completely by your Alpha and his scent, filled with everything he has to give. 

“I’ll be here when you wake,” Ghost promises, kissing your neck, your cheek. “I’ll take care of you.” 

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move. 

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever. 

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes. 

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells? 

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes. 

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum. 

Or survival instincts. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . . 

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion. 

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still. 

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.” 

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person. 

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem. 

A serious problem. 

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?” 

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head. 

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?” 

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was. 

Flattering, but incredibly obvious. 

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.” 

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.” 

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves. 

Or a lot harder, sometimes. 

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . . 

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes. 

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside. 

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe? 

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone. 

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now. 

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.” 

Red Hood laughs. 

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!” 

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes? 

She spent way too long in Amity, yes. 

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake. 

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . . 

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . . 

Then again, her life is her life. 

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now. 

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.” 

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?” 

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling. 

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that. 

Hm. 

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies. 

Well, so is Amity Park, of course. 

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not. 

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances. 

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved. 

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells. 

Definitely inappropriate. 

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says. 

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means. 

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly. 

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.” 

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it. 

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment. 

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering. 

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?” 

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows. 

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . . 

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . . 

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.” 

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because. 

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way. 

“Are you sure?” she asks.

[grey342]

Daddy's home

baby daddy phil x reader

synopsis - phil picking up your daughter but his car breaks down and is insisting to stay the night.

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, masturbation (F), being caught, Oral (F receiving), P in V and slightly possessive!Phil.

authors note - *insert 'Hey Daddy' by Usher* - p.s this was waaay longer than i expected it to be so sorry not sorry :)

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

He's late again.

You'd think after nearly a year he would have the drop off and pick up times down to a tee but no.

Your daughter was sat watching her favourite tv show whilst you paced in front of your window, constantly checking your phone for any new texts or calls but that was wishful thinking.

This is always how it goes. He turns up late, blames traffic, flirts with you and he always tries to get his 'goodbye kiss from both his girls' whilst you’re shoving him out the door.

You and Phil have known each other since high school. You've always been pulled to each other like a moth to a flame. Always on and off, one week you'd be the happiest couple on campus and the next you were screaming at each other in between classes.

This constant cycle followed you all the way through college too until, you ended up seeing those two pink lines. When you told him he was over the moon. However, the novelty of family life wore off three months in and you came up with this co-parenting plan that you have to this day.

Being too caught up your thoughts, you didn't hear his car pull up on your drive. It's only when he knocks on the door you actually realise he's here.

"You're late. Again." You say opening the door.

"Aww, now that's not a nice way to greet me. Is it sweetheart?" He says looking you up and down, and licking his lips.

"Don't call me that and stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" He replies, changing his position to leaning on the door frame with his signature smirk plastered on his face.

You gulp and feel a shudder spread it’s way down your spine.

"She's waiting for you in the living room." You manage to get out, trying to avoid his gaze.

He chuckles and enters the house but not without "accidentally" brushing his hand against your arm. You take a deep breath in trying to compose yourself because you were not letting him know what kind of effect he still has on you. Even though, you're almost 100% sure he knows.

"Hey baby, ah daddy missed you so much. Have you been taking care of mommy like a good girl hm?" He coos to your daughter, looking straight into your eyes.

"Here's her bag," you hand him a pink bag with all of her things, "I need her back here by two on Friday. It has to be two it can't be any later." You declare.

"Yeah, yeah i know." He mutters still looking at you.

"Good. Bye baby mommy loves you so much, i'll see you Friday," you give her a kiss on the cheek, " be good for daddy." You hear him take a sharp inhale after that last statement.

He makes his way out the house and you stand in the doorway to wave goodbye. But when Phil tries to start the car up it backfires. You see his confused expression as he tries again and does the same thing.

After a couple attempts he opens the car door and makes his way to the other side to get the baby out.

"What do you think you're doing?" You shout out to him.

"I'm gonna have to spend the night," sensing you're about to retaliate he continues, "no one’s gonna come out this late just to check the engine. It's only one night. I'll sleep in the guest room and i'll deal with her if and when she wakes up okay?"

"Okay." You sigh, giving in.

"Good girl." He says walking past you and into the house.

It's gonna be a long night.

...

It's only when you hear your daughter go down for the night and the guest bedroom door close you can finally relax. You don't know how he does it but even after all these years, he still gets you hot under the collar. In more ways than one.

"Fuck." you whispered. All this time you were thinking about Phil and now your panties had a small damp patch. You decided to just ignore it and go to sleep but it wasn't that easy.

After lots of tossing and turning you chose to just give in. Reaching your hand down you began to rub slow circles on your clit through your panties, letting out a sigh of relief.

You began to think about Phil. Every little detail that you know and love. His soft hair that you loved to grab and slightly pull when he was eating you out. His beautiful ocean blue eyes that would burn holes into your back when he was pounding you from behind. His hands. God you loved those hands. The way they would be an expert at everything they did and the veins that lightly protruded through the skin.

You began to rub faster and harder. Panting now. But there was something missing. Without realising, you broke into a small chant of his name. Barely whispering it as if it were a secret you wouldn't even tell the devil.

"Phil.. Phil," they started to get louder and louder with each one, "Phil.."

"Yes?" A voice in the dark whispered back.

You squealed, immediately sitting up and turning your dim, bed side lamp on. Seeing him stood there with no shirt on and grey sweatpants with a growing tent in them.

"What the hell are you doing!" You spoke, not too loudly to not wake the baby.

"Oh baby, how iv'e missed those sounds God, you have no idea." he states walking closer to the bed.

"Phil, I-I can ex-"

" There's no need. Just," he takes a deep breath, "lift up the covers and let me see what we're dealing with mkay?" He says raising an eyebrow.

"Wha- What? No!"

"Come on, stop kidding yourself. We both know you need me and I need you. Just one more time hm? for old times sake?" He says now sat on the end of the bed.

The more you think about it, one more time wouldn't hurt. It would get it out of your system and maybe you would finally be able to move on from each other.

"Okay." You breathe out. He looks at you whilst licking his lips.

"That's my girl"

Wasting no time he instantly leans over connecting your lips as his hands find sanctuary in your hair and yours on his chest. He slowly moves forward laying you down in the process and began kissing, nipping and sucking your neck. Your breaths turning into pants.

You feel his hands pushing the bottom of your shirt up, indicating that he wants it off. You carefully lift yourself up and take the shirt off revealing to him that you are wearing no bra.

"Jesus fucking Christ" he mumbles, staring right at your chest. He looks up at you his eyes never leaving yours as he begins kissing your right boob with his hand groping the left.

He smirks when he begins to hear the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. He then takes your nipple into his mouth and began to lightly suck it, now pinching the other one with his index finger and thumb. He switches over repeating the process.

He slowly starts to kiss down your stomach and kisses the stretch marks that were left behind after your daughter.

"You're beautiful. Every single inch of you." He declares looking into your eyes. He goes further down until he kisses your clit through your panties.

You suck in a deep breath as he smiles looking at your face. He slowly pulls down your panties but then wastes no time latching on to your clit and sucking.

He lets out a deep groan and you give him a quiet moan in return. He then shoves his index and middle finger into you beginning to move them in and out of your sopping cunt.

"Oh fuck.." You whimper.

"I know baby, I know.. But I gotta prep you it's been a while." He murmurs back to you.

"Phil, please.. I need you," you sigh deeply, "now."

"Yes ma'am." He says whilst pulling his pants and boxers down. You sit up lightly and your eyes widen. You could never forget how big he is but it still takes the breath from your lungs.

He rubs the tip along your slit then slowly pushes himself in. You both let out a moan at the same time as he fills you up. He starts to move in and out of you slowly, testing the waters.

When he realises you're okay he starts to move faster and harder, knowing exactly what gets you going. Your moans, his grunts and the sound of skin slapping, being the only thing you can hear.

"Fuck what I said before," he says through gritted teeth, "i'm not going anywhere. Oh shit. You're mine and i'm yours."

"Phil," you moan, "i'm getting close." You wrap your legs around his torso and dig your nails into his back.

"I know, shit, me too baby. Me too." He brings his hand in between your bodies to rub your clit. You let out a loud whine in response.

"At the same time, okay." He stated.

He begins to rut into your faster, his fingers also speeding up. Your nails dig deeper into his back as he shoves his head into your neck. His moans and whimpers being right next to your ear.

"Oh fuck..Phil."

"Let go baby, let go." As soon as he says that your eyes roll back into your head, letting the pleasure take over you.

"Fuck." He drawls out as his cum fills you up.

He pulled your panties and pj bottoms back up and slumped beside you, tucking you into his side.

"I meant every word i said, i'm done with this bullshit we're meant to be together and you know it." He declares.

"Can we at least go out on a date first?" You question.

"Woah, that might be pushing it." He says, hiding his smirk.

"Phil." You scold.

"I'm fucking with you," he chuckles, "of course we'll go on a date." He finishes with a peck on your lips

"But you're paying" You slap him on the chest, trying not to smile, as he laughs.

[totem-but-shark]

interpreting foolish making a few of his own skins as qfoolish knowing how to sew and making his own clothes is one of my favourite headcannons because one of qfoolishs main ways of expressing his love and care is acts of service, he loves through actions. So it only makes sense that he might tend and care for the clothes of his loved ones too

imagine qfoolish sewing all of Leo's clothes, each new shirt or sock getting slightly larger than the last as she grows up before his very eyes, feeling immense pride as he goes from sewing tiny rompers to elaborate dresses that take days to complete and rolls and rolls of fabrics just to her liking all for his little girl. His heart melting ever so slightly as he starts all over again with a red and white striped scarf for a baby Pepito.

qjaiden showing her his wings and foolish immediately insisting she hands over every vest and shirt she has to add wing holes into the back so she never has to feel constrained and hide herself ever again.

For the longest time qroiers clothes were plagued with tears and gashes. Rips in his overalls after bobby passed, the gash in his hoodie from a friendship turned backstabbing. He can't find it within himself to fix alone, he hardly knows how. Until he's adopted, qvegetta and qfoolish taking him in with open arms and suddenly there's another hand steadying his shaking fingers because qfoolish cannot undo the hurt qroier has faced but with needle and thread he can help his son repair what he has

Mixing this with another headcannon, I like to think that the suit qroier wore at his wedding might've been one of qvegettas from one of his failed marriages. Knowing he'd never allow himself to wear it and let himself be hurt again and so instead wanting his son to have it and see it worn at a happy wedding, one based upon genuine love. Though he may never experience that moment himself at least someone he loves can, the cycle continuing for qvegetta but finally breaking for roier. But Vegetta is BUILT, broad as a brick wall and muscled like no other, and foolish steps in, adjusting the shoulders and waist and whatever else until it's perfectly tailored for qroier ready to walk walk down the aisle carrying the love of both his fathers with him.

[bratbby333]

even if it hurts

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ angst, kinda toxic, college au, 21+ warnings: language, alcohol consumption summary: unrequited love word count: 3.2k

“I just don’t understand what she sees in that guy,” Megumi thinks to himself. He watches you as you exit the library from his vantage point, seated by the window. You walk toward your boyfriend, who’s leaning up against his car. Megumi’s chest gets tighter the longer he watches you, wincing as your boyfriend pulls you in close, your lips connecting with his for way longer than Megumi can handle. 

“It should be me,” he sighs within, eventually turning away from the window, bringing his attention back to Yuuji and Kugisaki, the two of them oblivious to his mental anguish. But, of course they are, and so are you, his unchanging, neutral facial expression never giving away his true, tortured feelings. 

Then again, Megumi doesn’t know what you’d see in him, either. He knows everything about you; the good, the bad and the ugly, caring deeply for your well-being and happiness, but that doesn’t outweigh the negatives that come along with him. His lack of empathy, his overly analytical nature, his disdain for small talk, the permanent frown on his face. He hopes one day you take a chance after all these years and accept him in the same way he already accepts you; flawed, but so beautiful. 

“Aren’t they just so cute together,” Kugisaki gushes out, before looking to her friends for input. Yuuji smiles wide, nodding in agreement.

“They seem very happy together. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.” Yuuji adds, before looking back at his notes. Megumi glances outside again, observing that you’re now seated in the passenger seat. He stays quiet, which isn’t unusual for him. Neither of his friends bat an eye at his lack of commentary, chalking it up to Megumi being typical Megumi. He wishes he could rejoice on your behalf, to congratulate you on your new found romance without stifling a gag. Even if he could fake his way through it, his words would be coated in jealousy. Instead, he continues to retreat within. You’d see right through his bleak attempts to be supportive, anyway. So he packs his feelings up in a box, stowing them away on a forgotten shelf deep in the darkest corners of his mind.

Within his tormented psyche, Megumi is anything but his normal self. Looking down at his textbook again, he can’t comprehend a single thing in front of him. He stares longingly into the book, willing himself to read, but his mind can’t help but always find its way back to you. One of his best friends. Your cheery disposition contradicts his cold, closed-off demeanor. The way your perfume lingers on his shirt after a friendly hug, how your body feels pressing against his. The way your lips curl before you laugh, how you wrinkle your nose after someone tells a joke, or the soft smiles you always send his way. How your eyes gleam with excitement when you see him (well, not just him, but your friends, collectively). You’re everything he isn’t, and everything he wishes he was. You make his normally frigid skin run warm, feverish even.

He knows it will never be you and him. Like the sun and moon; coexisting, but never coming together, a constant, cruel cycle. You two meet briefly in the same sky, before you disappear under the horizon and his world goes dark. That part doesn’t hurt nearly as much as what the actual outcome is: You will always be in his life, just out of reach; so close yet so infuriatingly far. He will always be an outsider looking in; a friend. It’s a tortuous realization. But the moon cannot glow without the sun. So he wills himself to stay put. To watch you fall in and out of love, over and over again; listening to you rave or rant about your relationship, he inevitably being a voice of reason for you when you need advice, even if it burns his throat when his supportive words leave his mouth; and it will never be him. And he accepts that as the painful reality he’s condemned to live in. Purgatory. It would hurt much less if he wasn’t as close to you; if you were just a friend of a friend, or even strangers; an unknown face, a passing daydream. Someone easier to lose. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You press your hands against the metal bar of the library doors, sighing as you push against them. The setting sun dances across your hair, the warmth kissing your skin. You smile softly at your boyfriend, who always insists on picking you up after class. He pulls you into him, his lips meeting yours. Pulling away, you smile up at him before taking a step back, allowing him to open up the passenger side door for you. You turn your head back toward the library before getting in, looking through the window at the table you were just sitting at with your three best friends. Your eyes linger on Megumi, whose attention is back on his textbook. 

“I wish he was you, Meg.” You think to yourself, looking at the ground before sitting in the passenger seat. You’re quiet on the drive back to your boyfriend's apartment, thoughts utterly consumed by Megumi. But you know it will never be him. You’re too talkative, too excitable. Too different from him. With the two of you being such close friends, by the time you realized how your heart ached for him, it was too late. You don’t want to ruin what you have. You can’t confess. That would make the dynamic shift towards awkwardness and tension, possibly even destroying the friendships you cherish so deeply. So you stay quiet. You date other people in hopes that someone can replace him. But your attempts are all in vain. No one can replace Megumi. He knows everything about you, appreciates you for everything you are and accepts you for everything you’re not. But you know the deeper connection that you desire will never be reciprocated. He does all these things for me because we’re best friends, you rationalize.

You reconcile with the silver lining of it all; enjoying the time you’re able to spend with him, relishing in the jokes between you two, cherishing the glances you steal when you know he's not paying attention. You ignore the gnawing deep within you, the hunger for more. You cling to the way his smooth voice delivers eloquently thought out sentences to your yearning ears, the way your heart leaps when his deep blue eyes gaze attentively into yours. At least you can hold on to the notion that he will always be in your life, at the very least, as a friend.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You can’t settle for meaningless connections. You’ve decided that you’ll take Megumi however you can get him, the cards dealt to you leaning in favor of just being friends. And that’s okay. You’ll hold on to the hope that one day he’ll take the risk. Such a selfish desire, you acknowledge that. You refuse to fight these feelings any longer, the stark realization that it will never not be him coming to fruition on that fateful car ride, which is why you’re at your boyfriend’s house, sitting across from him, attempting to explain that it isn’t him, it’s you.

“I’m sorry,” you start. You can’t seem to find the right words that will soften the blow. Your mind is an endless sea of thoughts, a similar deep blue that you find in Megumi's eyes. Oh, his eyes. One thing at a time. 

“You did everything right, I promise. I just think we’re looking for different things.” You don’t have much more to say, tuning out your now ex boyfriend’s pleas and questions as you stand and walk towards the door, not uttering another word. Your movements shift to being calculated and emotionless; maybe you are more like Megumi than you thought. You take a deep breath once outside, pulling your phone out and dialing Kugisaki. 

“Hey, what’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be with your boyfriend?” she asks. She can hear the whizzing of cars in the background of the phone call. You walk along a busy freeway with no destination in mind. But your body knows where it wants to be; with Megumi. Your heart drives you with such conviction that you’re nearly running now.

“I was, yeah, I just broke up with him. Can we go out for drinks? Ask Yuu and Meg, too.” You reply. Nobara pauses, waiting for more information before realizing you weren’t interested in sharing. Your tone was emotionless and commandeering; very out of character for you. She decides not to pry. After a moment of silence, you hear the soft murmur of voices echo through the speaker of your phone, before she returns to the call, the plan being set to meet at a local bar just outside the campus at 6pm. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The study session is interrupted by an incoming call to Nobara’s phone. Megumi’s heart soars at the sight of your name on the screen. Kugisaki smiles before answering, but her twinkling demeanor drops almost immediately. He hears her ask a couple questions, but he can’t comprehend what was said over the loud roar of blood rushing through his ears. He doesn’t understand how you elicit such unusual responses from him. These feelings are getting harder and harder for him to fight. He snaps back to reality when Kugisaki relays that you want to grab drinks tonight. He’d do anything and go anywhere for you, jumping on the chance to be around you. Keep your composure, they can’t know. Megumi stoically agrees to the plans, as does Yuuji. The call ends a moment later.

“I did not see that coming,” Kugisaki sighs, placing her phone back down on the table. Megumi looks to his friend, anxiously anticipating her debrief of the conversation she just had. The possibility that you were hurt made Megumi want to jump out of his skin, to console you in a deeper, more intimate way that friends probably shouldn’t do. Kugisaki’s vagueness of the whole situation was making his nerves run cold. 

“It’s not unusual for her to want to grab some drinks…did something happen?” Yuuji asks, concern painted across his normally cheerful face. Kugisaki just glances between the two boys, her brow furrowed. Megumi’s blood is ice in his veins when Nobara finally tells them. He tunes out his friends, his mind inundating with possibilities, sending a silent prayer to the heavens that you’ll soon take a chance on him. He kicks himself for thinking that way, guilt soon replacing his desperation. How dare he attempt to take advantage of your pain for his own pleasure. What kind of man has he become? 

You want nothing more than to run into Megumi’s arms, to hold his face in your hands. You can’t help but feel sinful for what you’ve done. But being with someone when you crave someone else’s touch goes against everything you believe. Inauthenticity. It’s causing you more harm than good. You can’t stand it anymore. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry it didn’t work out…just earlier today we were talking about how happy you two seemed together. Can’t help but think we jinxed it,” Yuuji apologizes as he crashes into you, his arms constricting you tightly. Such a sweet boy. He holds you there for a moment, rocking you back and forth, before breaking away, Kugisaki taking his place. 

“His loss, you’ll forget about him soon enough. Let’s get drunk. Maybe you’ll find someone new while we’re here!” Nobara smirks. Megumi can’t help but cringe at that suggestion, the thought of seeing you engaged with yet another man, a man that isn’t him, shoots a lead bullet through his chest. He reaches his boiling point. He can’t patch up his wounds anymore. 

Megumi approaches you last, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, patting gently and saying nothing. Pretty on brand for Megumi’s way of showing comfort, but there’s something different behind his eyes; a new, unknown feeling that you can sense while looking up at him. You fight every urge in your body telling you to ask about it, to pry deeper into his mind, knowing he wouldn’t tell you, anyway. You desperately want to lean into his touch, electricity shooting through your body. You smile gently at his unreadable expression before the four of you head inside. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Seated at a table away from the bar, the four of you talk about the upcoming exams. You set plans for your next study session. Yuuji invites the group to a movie premier on Saturday night. Everyone reluctantly agrees, even though the premise of the film sounds dreadful. As the night goes on, the drinks keep coming, and you and your friends are properly buzzed, giggling and joking around. Everyone except Megumi, only offering the occasional smile and quiet chuckle. Everytime he laughs, your heart beats faster. Unbeknownst to the group, he’s clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, fighting every urge to spill his deepest, darkest secret. 

Your eyes trace lines along his face, taking in every curve and angle of his disposition. Something is bothering him. Your stare is burning holes into his side profile, and he shifts his weight in search of relief from your intensity. The sun and her rays. You’re snapped out of your trance as Yuuji stands from the table, pointing his finger in Nobara’s direction. 

“Nobara Kugisaki, I challenge you to a Skee-Ball tournament!” he shouts. The abruptness of his actions shocks the three of you. You glance at Kugisaki, who’s smirking at Yuuji. 

“You are so on.”

The two abandon the table, trash talking one another on their way to the machine, leaving you and Megumi alone. You feel elated at the time you get to spend one on one with him. He feels differently.

“It was for the best, he seemed like an ass anyway,” Megumi huffs out, avoiding your gaze as he takes another sip of his drink. His comment catches you off guard, but it leaps from his mouth before he can give it a second thought, as if he had been waiting the entire night to say that to you, only feeling confident enough to do so with the liquor in his system and the listening ears now on the opposite end of the bar. 

“Well, no, he was perfectly nice, Meg,” you retort, confusion painted across your face. This is so unlike Megumi, the man of few words.

“So why dump him if he was so nice? There must be a reason,” he challenges. Megumi has moved from denial, to bargaining, to anger in the span of a day. He can’t help but lash out. He’s bursting at the seams. Being near you is no longer enough, and his ego is his last line of defense before you fully break his heart without even meaning to. The constant torment he’s felt since meeting you has slowly been chipping away at him. All he knows is that he’s had enough. If you leave, if he pushes hard enough, he won’t hurt anymore. He will no longer have a constant reminder of what could be. He will finally reach acceptance. 

The hostility of his words bruise you, anger plastered across his face. Why is he upset with me? I did this for him, not that he’d ever know that. You brush off the sting from his comment. You’re just happy to hear him speak. You’d do anything to listen to him express whatever thought popped in his head, hanging on every word that leaves his lips, even if they send shards of glass into your heart. It aches so beautifully. You can’t muster up the courage to tell him that he’s the reason it didn’t work out. You’re exhausted from trying to force connections with other people in hopes that they could replace him, the constant back and forth leaving your life in ruins. You cut ties with perfectly good people because you know they will never be Megumi. So you cling to anything you can get from him, even if it destroys you.

“I…I don’t know, Meg. I think I’m searching for something else,” you reply quietly, your response insinuating much more than you intended. Your words float through the air so inaudibly that they are nearly drowned out by the music pouring out of the bar’s speakers. But Megumi hears you. He always does. His head snaps to face you, meeting your gaze. He feels his blood pressure spike. Is she referring to me? No…that can’t be what she means. She’s just feeling vulnerable right now. He maintains eye contact with you, looking past your eyes and searching deep within your soul, hoping something in there will guide him towards the answers he so hopelessly needs.

Your breath catches in your throat. Why is he looking at me like that? Did I make it too obvious? Did I ruin everything? Megumi’s eyes dart around your face, searching for something, anything, that would alleviate his pain. It doesn’t matter what you meant by that statement. He can’t stand this anymore, teetering on the edge of insanity. If I can’t have her, and I can’t stand keeping her around without torturing myself, then… fuck it. He decides to jump.

He grabs your face with both hands before crashing his lips into yours, a muffled yelp escaping you. Your eyes go wide, your body freezes. Time slows to an insufferable pace. You can’t comprehend a single thing, a part of you trying to convince yourself that this isn’t real; if it’s nothing more than a drunken kiss. But it’s real. It’s everything and more. You close your eyes, surrendering to this moment. You move your lips against his, desperate to savor him. He feels the exact way you imagined him to, the taste of him clouding your senses. You can’t get enough. The two of you fit together perfectly. You are utterly and completely consumed by him.

His heart races as he feels you reciprocate. His hands run up and down your body with urgency, trying to make up for years of wasted time. The loud bar fades to black as he pulls you deeper into him. All he can feel is you; you’re all that matters, that has mattered. Your hands meet his cheeks, moving to thread themselves in his hair at the nape of his neck. He groans into your mouth, his tongue battling against yours. You claw at one another hungrily. After years of starving, you are finally satiated. Every doubt that clouded your mind is cast to the wayside. All the pain and suffering has come to an end. The outcome that you both desired comes to fruition. 

“Fucking FINALLY!” You break away from one another, the sound of Kugisaki’s voice bringing you back to reality. She's standing before you two with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. Yuuji is positioned beside her, grinning from ear to ear. Megumi takes your face in his hands again, pulling you close.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers. 

author notes: if this seemed very unhinged and scatterbrained it's bc it most definitely was..and i tried to write this is in a specific way so that it bounced back and forth and contradicted one another and...u get it. im sure u do.

anywho, thank u so much for engaging with my stories...every like, comment, and reblog makes my little heart soar xx

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[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

can you give me a quick bio on ghost…his personality, how you view him canon and what not

Ghost headcanons

Ghost doesn't wear a mask in public. It's easier to maintain his anonymity that way because a skull mask/balaclava would only draw more attention. The only instances he might wear it in a public place would be if he's with people he doesn't wish to get linked to/associated with (like in the famous scene where he's at a bar with Laswell & co)

He doesn't have a home, not even a rental flat. He stays at the base, stays at motels, hotels, b&bs when he's in England. Partly because having anything stable in his life is dangerous, partly because his attachment issues are so severe that even owning a place will make him feel uncomfortable. Returning to the same, dusty place with only a tv and a fridge to keep him company is depressing.

He never visits Manchester. Too many sour memories and too many people who might still recognize him when he's supposed to be dead. There's no one there left to visit either, save for a few old friends who he can't keep in contact with because he wants to protect them.

He hasn't dated since he was 20-something. He doesn't want to take the risk of losing his loved ones ever again. He's had a few one night stands but disappears before dawn, hating the man he has to be in order to protect those who might otherwise steal their way into his heart.

He's considered using escort services instead, but even the thought leaves a foul taste in his mouth because of his childhood memories and the things his father did to women. He goes to strip clubs sometimes when he has a weak moment, drinks one whiskey and then goes to his motel room and jerks himself off, feeling lousy and even more depressed afterward.

If we ignore this man's attachment issues and complex trauma and imagine he would settle into a situationship or even a relationship:

Ghost is not mean, brutal or abusive. In bed or in any non-work related circumstances (Ghost would say he's not brutal or mean at work either: he's just efficient.) He can be rough if you want and even enjoys manhandling you a little, but he would have a hard time degrading you. He's a soft dom and a service top through and through and quite the gentleman at heart.

He has a lot of money. He's not a spender and has no kids so the pile of wealth he's accumulated over the years is quite enormous. He will spend his money on you though, take you out to dinner, buy you anything you need. He does it so willingly and effortlessly that you soon get a feeling that he's your sugar daddy or at least would want to be. He pays your electricity bill if he finds it on your table and sees it's overdue, doesn't even bother to ask for your permission. And oh, do you need a gorgeous dress for some occasion? Let him buy it for you. You need a car? Sure, no problem at all.

He's paranoid to the point of not telling you when he's about to visit you. He just pops on your doorstep, looking dog-tired and ten years older than he really is. The only thing he leaves in your apartment is a toothbrush and perhaps one of his sweatshirts (if you ask nicely.)

He seems to have a sixth sense, and is very superstitious. He thinks telling you he loves you is a perfect way to attract malevolent attention and bad luck upon himself, so he refrains from being verbal about how he truly feels. You think he's indifferent, that you're just a shag for this man, but in truth he's dedicated and devoted to you and sees no one else but you, thinks about you at work so much so that he already calls you a distraction in his mind. It's dangerous, his feelings are already bringing him bad luck, and so the cycle of silence continues…

He's an incredible hacker but uses old, foolproof technology to avoid being traced. You can never call him, he always calls you. If he even calls.

He's not a drinker and doesn't like to see you drinking either. He absolutely, vehemently hates drugs.

He's embarrassed about it but he has read like 5 novels in his lifetime. All other books have been non-fiction, manuals and the like. He says he hasn't got the time to read.

He loves to see you in ultra feminine underwear. Lace, stay ups, suspenders: he loves to undress you like you're a delicately wrapped Christmas present just for him.

He loves to eat pussy. He would eat you all day, every day, for the rest of his life if he could. He especially loves it when you ride his face and he gets to feel how your thighs start to tremble next to his face.

He loves missionary. Loves loves loves to spread you open and spread his religion. You even joke about it: that his ass is so fit because he fucks you so much, and he only smiles to himself because it's true.

Ghost wants kids, but would he ever tell you that? No. He never tells you anything. You know nothing of this man, not even his favorite movie or his favorite color (which is not black, btw).

He has a terrible praise kink. He loves praising you, teasing you, making you flustered while he's inside you – but if you ever tell him he's big? He's good? That you like it when he smiles? His brain goes full error. He fucks up the rhythm of his thrusts and has to gather his breath. (Then he ups the stakes and praises you even more. Because he also has to win. Always.)

If you ever tell him you miss him, that you can't sleep without him… He disappears for weeks. Then he suddenly comes back, more touch starved and desperate than ever. Your words have gone under his skin whether he likes it or not. You can't even tell whether he's fucking you or making love to you, but you're left feeling like you just got hit by the most loving, gentle bus. There's no explanation, and it's futile to try and pry what's gone into him. But just before you fall asleep, he ghosts his fingers down your arm and whispers: "Pet… I missed you too."