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a-little-unsteddie · 7 months

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stuck in your throat || a/b/o

hi so today is @lexirosewrites’s birthday today and like,, idk three or so weeks ago she followed me (hi lexi <3 happy birthday <3 hope today has been fun <3) and to celebrate both of those things i started writing an omegaverse fic, and i wanted it done by today but it is grew a mind of its’ own and now it’s much bigger than i thought it’d be so instead of the full fic, have a snippet <3

again, happy birthday lexi <3

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t <i>really</i> go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just <i>who</i> he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

#whdbehsh i literally screamed when you followed me lexi #and then showed it to everyone i’m friends with in steddie #and was like ‘well now i GOTTA write an omegaverse fic’#snd they were like ‘well you don’t gotta’#and i was like ‘no i do. and i will.’#and then i did 😌#steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #eventually eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #pre steddie #tw a/b/o #tw omegaverse #oh heck also #mentions robin buckley #stuck in your throat #unsteddie writing

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cherryflavoured7777 · 6 months

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you sitting on hazel's lap doing her makeup and she's letting you because she's so down bad

i <3 your writing :))

TYSM!! ily. I'm sorry this took so long. I am obsessed with this idea <3

“Babe, you’ve got to stay still if this is going to look amazing. My makeup skills won’t shine if you’re moving all over the place,” you insist.

Hazel smiled up at you, pure adoration in her eyes as you straddle her lap on the couch. Your movie was quickly abandoned when you asked her if you could do her makeup. She groaned at first, hesitating, but the excitement in your eyes convinces her to give in.

“How can you expect me to stay still when I have the prettiest girl in the world on top of me?” Hazel said as she leaned forward to kiss your neck again, her strong hands making sure you don’t fall backwards. “I’m not a robot,” she mumbles against your skin.

“Okay, I know you’re trying to get out of this but cheesy compliments aren’t gonna work on me.” You try to sound stern but you laugh as you reposition yourself, holding a black eyeliner pen in your hand.

“This part is crucial, and if you make me mess it up I will beat you up,” you warn.

“I think I’d be very into that.” Hazel remarks.

“Hazel!” you playfully scold her.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” she chuckles and shifts slightly beneath you. Her warm hands on your waist keep you steady.

You gently brush her hair out of her eyes and lean closer, she can feel your breath fan over her face as you slowly glide the black ink over her lash line.

In reality, Hazel could stay like this for hours, studying every curve of your features as you carefully apply the products to her face. She loved watching the way your brows knitted together in determination for such a simple task.

You drag your thumb under the wing of the eyeliner, cleaning up the edge to make it sharper. “Perfect,” you say to yourself, smiling proudly.

You reach back into your makeup bag for your liquid blush, you dab it lightly across her cheeks and blend it in.

“You have really soft skin, you know.” you say, your thumb slowly swiping across her cheek.

“Yeah?” she asks, her pupils huge as she looks up at you.

“Yeah.” You tuck her hair behind her ear. “It’s perfect.”

Hazel’s eyes shift to your neck.

“Wait a sec, can you pass me that?” She says, pointing to your concealer.

“Why? I already did that step.” You say.

She reaches beside you and grabs it, putting the bottle between her teeth as she opens it. “You have a little something,” she laughs softly as she pulls down the neckline of your T-shirt, revealing a small hickey she gave you the night before.

“You know, you have to be more careful where you let people put their mouths, honey.” She says, dotting the concealer on the bluish purple mark.

You can feel your face turning pink. You hated how easily you melted under her touch.

She loved it.

“I don’t get the point of you covering this up when you’re probably just going to mess it up later.” You say.

Hazel fake gasps.

"Who, me? I would never do such a thing.” She screws the bottle shut, and her lips attach themselves to your jaw, a heated trail of kisses igniting a tingling sensation down the side of your neck. Your fingers instinctively find her hair, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to meet your gaze. There's a brief, charged silence before she speaks.

“Does it look good?” her question is sincere, earnest. Hazel never wore makeup. Her hands slowly traveled up your back as she gazed up at you, you can sense a tinge of insecurity in her eyes. You couldn’t have that.

You wipe at her bottom lip with your thumb where you had applied a layer of lipgloss.

“You look so pretty, baby.” You whisper as you lean forward to kiss her cheek, your heart swelling with emotion. “My beautiful girl.”

She grabs your face before capturing you in a kiss. It slowly becomes more heated, and you know she was trying to distract you and ditch her makeover. You let out a soft sound against her mouth as her hands start to tug at the hem of your shirt.

“Not yet, we still have to put on your lashes.”

“Alright,” She effortlessly lifts you, her arms sliding under your thighs, before gently placing you on your back. “That’s where I draw the line, absolutely not,” she declares, her words laced with playful resistance. Before you can protest, she leans back in to kiss you. You let out a contented sigh as you feel her smile against your mouth.

“Okay, you win.” you laugh, finally surrendering to the warmth of the moment.

#hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan fanfic #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #sapphic #hazel callahan x you #ruby cruz #bottoms hazel #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan oneshot

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Different

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're different from the other kids

To your Mam, it was like the end of the world.

To you, it was something you had seen approaching from a while away. You'd never been the most coordinated of people. Your spatial awareness was terrible and it was like your limbs applied what your brain told them with a five-second delay.

You'd known since you were little that you were different.

You think your Mam knew too.

You'd never really been able to play football with her, no matter how hard you'd tried when you were younger. Sports weren't your thing.

You knew that she was disappointed in that but she'd tried to find different hobbies for you.

You had cried after your third guitar lesson, your fingers making it difficult to pluck the strings, and you felt the same way about art.

It was only a matter of time that something like this happened. Honestly, you think it should have happened long before that.

Your teachers had always been willing to sweep your bad handwriting under the rug. They had always written it off as you not caring enough or having no interest in the lesson. You were scatterbrained at times and got easily distracted when you were bored. Your hands shook at the idea of catching a ball or using a paintbrush.

Everyone had just put it down to being a slow learner with low self-esteem.

Nobody ever realised you had never really improved.

Except for your math's teacher.

He had noticed the signs this year when he took over your class.

So, here you were, sat in the canteen at Arsenal with hunched shoulders as your mother ranted and raved to the others.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Katie denied as she paced back and forth in front of you. "Who the hell does he think he is? Saying there's something wrong with her?"

"He actually said that?" Leah asked, eyes wide.

Katie dropped her arms. "Essentially! He said that it was in her best interest to get her tested! There's nothing wrong with her!"

You held your tongue. There was something wrong with you, you thought. You knew you were different to the other kids. You'd made your peace with that a while ago.

You had your exams next year and you dreaded it. It took you nearly a full week to write essays. You didn't know how you would cope if you had to write them under exam conditions.

You clutched at your school report, willing yourself not to cry. It was all the same, each and every one of them.

Homework Performance: Below Average

Assessment Performance: Below Average

In Class Contributions: Average

Overall Grade: F

Comments: y/n is a very bright girl in one-on-one or class discussions but needs to apply herself more in her written work

It was the same thing over and over again. You could do nothing right when it came to written work. You could barely hold your pen or finish off your thoughts within the time frame of your mocks.

"How dare they!" Steph continued, jumping in on what your Mam was saying. "She's very smart! Katie, you can't let them treat her like this!"

You blinked away your tears as Beth ran a soothing hand up and down your arm.

"I'll be having words!" Katie insisted," There's nothing wrong with her! It's not her fault they're not teaching her properly!"

You loved your Mam, you really did but you could never get a word in about this stuff. It had been a constant problem that started all the way back in Year 2 when your teacher brought up serious worries.

'She's just a slow learner' your Mam had insisted. 'She'll get there' she'd promised.

Only you weren't a slow learner and you never did get there.

It was like the rest of your classmates had left you behind in a marathon and you were sprinting just trying to catch up. They had left you behind in the dust until they were nothing but specks in the distance while you had already collapsed from the exhaustion of it all.

You never even crossed the starting line.

More tears fell onto your closed fists. It took everything in you not to cry out loud.

"It's okay," Alessia said softly to you," Katie'll sort it out."

You didn't want Mam to sort it out. You didn't want this to be swept away again.

Your exams were next year and you just wanted someone to fix you. You wanted someone to tell you what was so fucked up in the head that holding a pen in your hand was your version of playing against prime Barcelona for the rest of your life.

"Hey," Leah said. Her hand was on your shoulder now and you tried not to flinch away, hunching your back so you could curl into yourself. "This means nothing. You're so smart and if those teachers are grading you unfairly then Katie's gonna let them have it."

"They're not grading me unfairly," You choked out," I just can't write. Leah, I can't write anything."

"Your handwriting's a little messy," Leah tried to soothe you, not knowing that her misunderstanding of the situation was making everything worse," But that's okay. You've got plenty of time to work on it."

Your eyes flicked to look at her, red and puffy as you beseeched her to understand," I've been working on it my whole life, Leah. I can't write."

"You can."

"Thanks but I need realism right now. I'm failing. Because I can't write during an exam. GCSEs are next summer. I'm screwed."

"It's plenty of time!" Leah said, still trying to hype you up," You'll get there."

"That's what everyone says," You grumbled. You tucked your school report back into your bag.

Your Mam had been writing those off for years, adamant that the teachers were just harsh on you, that slow and steady wins the race. But the race had been long over by now and you were probably closer to the beginning than the finishing line.

"Don't listen to that stupid man," Mam said as she came closer, cradling your cheeks in her hands," He doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing to test you about. You're perfect."

You certainly didn't feel perfect. You felt like your world was crumbling and your hands were shaking too much to haul yourself to safety.

You sighed and finally spoke," I want to be tested."

Mam's face turned thundery. "You've no reason to be tested. There's nothing wrong with you."

"There is Mam!" You weren't usually one to shout but this had gone on long enough. "I know it and you know it too. There's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong. You're just a bit different but that's okay."

You pulled yourself out of her arms. "I want to be tested. I'm different to the others and I want to know why."

Mam looked like she wanted to argue but someone came to your rescue.

"Katie," Kim said," Get her tested. I know what you're feeling like but, seriously, get her tested, if only so you can be right and you can yell at more teachers. But, if there is something that's affecting her, surely, you want to get support for her?"

Mam sighed, looking over at you as you sobbed in Viv's arms.

She'd known you were different when you didn't hit your milestones as a baby. You were slow to crawl and slow to walk. She knew you were different the moment you let her throw a ball in your face instead of trying to catch it. She knew you were different when you came home in tears at age five because you couldn't write properly or when you got teased at school because your shaking hands couldn't control the paintbrush either.

Katie knew you were different but that didn't mean you were broken. Being tested for something made it seem like there was something wrong. There was nothing wrong with you and Katie would kill anyone who insinuated otherwise.

"Katie," Kim said again," She wants to be tested. Her teachers think it's a good idea. She needs this if only to be a bit more settled."

Katie looked back at you as Lia and Laura offered you food and drink to refuel from your impromptu public breakdown. She sighed.

"I'll...I'll call her Maths teacher back, see if he says any recommendations for where."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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fourohfourlifenotfound · 2 years

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Getting to go to pride my first day in this city, sponsored by the biggest company in the city

Getting dead named multiple times by that company the very next day when I am seen as an employee and not a consumer

#im also a fucking intern and theyre supposed to be convincing me to apply for their other positions in the company #goes who really doesnt wanna do that now #its DAY FUCKING ONE BITCH #normally deadnaming doesnt hurt me this much #ig because i expected them to honor my preferred name it hurts more?#normally i hold no expectations so my hopes cant be let down haha #alyx ik you already had to see this from me earlier sorry you gotta hear the rant again #im just torn between throwing hands with hr screaming crying and watching rocky horror or beetlejuice (whichever is more available)#also going back to the bad shit: i got extra deadnamed more than the other trans people because theg put it on my sticky name tag :)))#i borrwed a pen to cross it out and im now putting a sticky note over my security badge

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bungalowbear · 9 months

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a little bit of self-care with husband!nanami

cw: implied nudity (reader takes a bath)

wc: 500

The floral scent of oils and bath salts you put in the tub waft through the air. You sigh as you lower yourself further into the warm water, settling in as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

The door creaks open and the soft falling of feet against the tile lets you know your husband has entered the bathroom. You can picture him walking up to the mirror over the sink, leaning forward and inspecting his handsome face. You hear the clinking of glass as he’s most likely inspecting the skin care products lined up on the counter. It’s an impressive array, and most might assume the majority of them are yours, but the truth is that you only have him beat by about one or two bottles. So when he speaks, voice rich and deep, you’re not surprised at his question.

“How about a mask, darling?”

“Wonderful,” you say.

Nanami washes his hands as you gather some water in your palms and splash it over your face. When he approaches, you feel his presence beside you when he kneels down and uses a small towel to dry your face. There’s a gloopy sound when he scoops some of the creamy mask with his fingers and then he begins applying it to your skin. He works silently, making sure it spreads evenly. The relaxing motions of his fingers pull an involuntary sigh from you.

“Turn your head for me, please.”

You wordlessly oblige, allowing him better reach to the other half of your face. When he’s finished his hand gently turns your face forward again. But before he moves away your hand lifts from the water to take hold of his wrist.

“You’re doing it, too?” you ask with open eyes.

“Maybe.”

You poke the tip of your tongue out between your lips to tease him. He smiles, placing your hand back into the bath water, and stands. You close your eyes again and the room is silent for a few seconds before you hear the bottom cabinet opening and the sink faucet running.

Peeking an eye open, you grin at the sight of your husband rinsing his face at the sink, cotton headband around his head to keep his hair back, and patting his skin dry. You watch as he applies the mask to his sculpted face. He catches your gaze in the mirror and mimics your earlier gesture and pokes his tongue out at you, making you giggle.

Once his face is identical to yours, he puts the pot away then leaves the bathroom with a soft spoken promise to be right back. He’s away less than thirty seconds before he returns holding a sudoku book with a pen hooked in the spiral binder and his phone.

“Relax now, darling.” Nanami sits on the floor with his back against the tub. “The timer is set. I’ll wash us off when it’s time.”

You thank him, eyes drifting shut to the sound of pen against paper.

#catalog #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #husband!nanami

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foldingfittedsheets · 3 months

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My first job was working at a dog kennel. It was a boarding facility so folks could leave their animals while they went on vacation. I always loved animals so I was stoked to apply, but I was less thrilled with the reality.

The owner operated the kennel on her personal property and was a tyrannical micromanager. For instance: she could see three of the play pens from her front porch. If you had a dog that did not in fact want to play with you, a stranger, and would prefer to sit quietly getting petted she would come out onto her front porch and yell at you.

The correct procedure in her mind was to play fetch by yourself which was just throwing a ball, going to pick it up, and throwing it again, over and over, to entice the dog. I quickly learned to never pick those pens. Even the small gravel play pen behind the building by the dumpsters was a better bet. There may not have been grassy fields but the miasma of dog waste meant less getting yelled at.

My time there colored my perception of certain dogs. To this day I disdain retrievers. They can be fine on a case by case, and ultimately my dislike isn’t their fault. But 75% of them weren’t potty trained and had never walked on a leash. They also had a brain just big enough to fixate on a tennis ball which was really annoying when trying to manage toy buckets and they’d just body check you cause they saw green.

Poodles and Dobermans were top tier, generally extremely obedient on leash and with their manners. This certainly says more about the owners inclined to get certain types of dogs than the breed itself but I remain fond. Pitbulls were similarly well mannered.

The craziest motherfuckers were Shiba Inu’s. It says a lot that these dogs rarely ended up on my schedule, despite the high proportion we had, because snappy dogs always went to the leads. It really didn’t help that we didn’t leave collars on the dogs. (I think it was a safety thing? It was weird). We slipped collars over their heads, and the shibas fucking hated it. They’d scream their little heads off and fling themselves around on the leash like a wild animal.

Hands down the worst dog I had was a beagle though. I still remember that horrible little man. He had been checked by the vet and was fine but he acted like each time he put his foot down it was landing on shards of broken glass. So each step was a tiny tentative affair, mincing and ready for the ground to suddenly rise up against being walked on. And god save you if this animal felt the slightest pressure on his collar he would shriek with ear piercing hysteria that you were trying to murder him. He walked the shortest circuit we had and it took as long to finish as the longest circuit twice over. I watched his owners pick him up once and he just trotted happily like a normal fucking dog.

My favorite animal however was this little Pomeranian with one eye. Easily the most friendly and well behaved of the dogs, big or small, he was loving life and everything in it. He didn’t yap or snap he just sat politely to be leashed and trotted along perfectly. He dashed after toys and retrieved nicely. I still think about that little dude sometimes. He was the platonic ideal of a dog.

But really the best kind of dog, the one we all wanted but never got, was one with solid bowel movements we could actually pick up instead of kennel induced stress soup, which is what we got.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #I’d give thanks every time I could actually pick up a poop #the rule was you had to at least make an attempt #if you couldn’t you kicked dirt over it #dog kennel #dogs

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lazyjellyfish300 · 5 months

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Blurred Lines❤️‍🩹

Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader

Synopsis: you and Miguel have a casual arrangement of just sex. You reluctantly agree in hopes that you can get him to fall for you. Unfortunately, it's not that simple. Word count 5.3k

Part 2

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(it's a little on the more mild side imo but P IN V, ORAL (F AND M RECEIVING), FINGERING), ANGST, CASUAL RELATIONSHIP, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, COLDER MEAN MIGUEL, SAD, LIGHT DV(HE PUNCHES A WALL AFTER YOU SLAP AND SHOVE HIM) IF ANYTHING LIKE THAT IS QUITE DIFFICULT FOR YOU, I'D RECOMMENDED NOT READING ❤️

SPANISH SPEAKERS, feel free to correct me. I'm SO sorry if I fucked it up. I hope y'all enjoy some more angsty Miguel. 🖤 This one is a longer one, sorry!

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You're a new lab tech at Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York and it's your first day. Bright eyed and bushy-tailed you, fresh out of college and not aware of what's about to hit you.

Until he walks by the pillar you're leaning against during your debriefing by Jessica Drew.

"Who's he?" you kind of softly squeak out as you watch the gorgeous man walk by. He's exceptionally tall and handsome, his chiseled features in a stoic expression, crimson eyes scanning his surroundings as he passes. He takes notice of you for a brief moment, then continues on. You shamelessly hold him in your gaze as he disappears down a dark corridor.

Jess follows where your eyes are looking and smirks. "That's Miguel O'Hara. He's my boss, actually. You won't have to worry about him except when you do blood samples. He mainly deals with the Spiders. If he gives you trouble, don't take it personally, it's just how he is." Jess leans in a little closer, speaking woman to woman now.

"Just between you and me, girl. You're gonna wanna stay away from him. Everyone here wants him. But he's emotionally unavailable. You seem like a nice girl. Don't waste your time. Trust me, I've seen it."

You nod slowly, somewhat discouraged by that. But, against your better judgement, you start coming to work in your cutest, sluttiest outfits that you can put together without breaking the lab safety rules. Thigh high boots, tight little skirts that hit you mid thigh, off the shoulder knit tops that halt just below the round tops of your cleavage, and skin tight dresses that hug you in all the right places.

Every week when you deliver the lab reports to Miguel, you have a different outfit on for him, hair and makeup done, flashing the most stunning smiles you can muster at him, staring directly into his eyes when he speaks, enthusiastically bobbing your head.

Week after week, Miguel seems to keep the same stoic disposition with you, not cracking under the flirtatious pressure you're applying to him with your overzealous attention and special outfits. Just how many layers to this guy is there? You wonder.

One day, about a month later since you started, Miguel is in the middle of a rant about the lab department and their tardiness on sample readings as of late, expecting you take his feedback to your supervisor when, you slowly bring your pen to your mouth, biting the cap ever so lightly while staring at Miguel's lips, not even hiding the fact that you've stopped paying attention and are focusing on more... intriguing matters.

Miguel's flow of speech stalls for a minute as you bring the pen to your mouth. He snaps out of it and continues on, then pauses again. He looks away from you and his jaw tenses. "Mierda(shit)..." he mutters.

Your face gets a little warm, but you smile, keeping the pen in your teeth. It would seem that your efforts this time were paying off.

"I forgot where I was going with that..." Miguel says, still turned away from you. "Never mind, you can leave now," he says cooly.

Your eyebrows raise a little bit, surprised he's just dismissing you like that, but you don't argue. You turn on your heel and walk away, heels clunking on the floor. Meanwhile, Miguel grabs the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white.

---

Next week, you head for Miguel's office again, carrying the stack of weekly reports. You're wearing a new long sleeved black dress under your lab coat, channeling your inner Morticia Addams. You're feeling a little more excited this time, wondering if he'll act as flustered as he did last week when you teased him with your pen in your mouth.

You approach Miguel, his back turned to you as he stares at several yellow-orange surveillance holograms at his desk. He recognizes the sound of your heels on the floor but doesn't turn around.

"Happy Friday, got your reports right here!" You announce in a whimsical tone.

Miguel sighs and turns his head, looking down. He then turns to you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he takes the stack of papers in his hand, scanning the top page. After a moment of silence, he moves his head, motioning to a hallway that leads to the archive room.

"Come with me," he says nonchalantly, already walking towards the hallway. You raise an eyebrow but follow after him, stuffing your hands in your lab pockets.

Once you're down the hall, you enter a room which is a maze of filing cabinets, most of them even towering over Miguel, who's 6'9. Miguel takes a few sharp turns, leading you deeper into the maze then finally stops at the one he's looking for. He throws the stack of papers in the cabinet with a slam and an echo off the empty walls and looks at you, crossing his arms and leaning back against the cabinet.

"You look beautiful today," he says in a soft voice.

You freeze, alarmed by his casual demeanor he seemed to pull out of nowhere.

"Um, thank you..." you feel your cheeks get hot and your stomach squirm with excitement and fluster. You only daydreamed of this happening, your gorgeous work crush finally noticing AND complimenting you in the same day.

"Is that a new dress?" His crimson eyes are roaming you up and down as he approaches you, caging you in against a tall cabinet behind you.

Your stomach leaps up to your throat, your breasts heaving.

"Yeah..."

Miguel's eyelids flutter a little bit at your breasts moving against the fabric of your dress as you became more flustered.

"I like it," he whispers.

Then, he's pinned you against the filing cabinet, attacking your mouth with his lips, his hands flying to both sides of your throat, his thumbs smoothing into your cheeks, his hips pressed against you.

"Ugnhh..." your hands fly to his hair on their own accord, your fingers getting lost in his chocolate strands. You kiss him with everything you can, sucking and biting his lip. He's a damn good kisser. Each stroke of his lips is sending you into orbit as you feel growing warmth in your core.

"Keep walking in my office dressed so slutty every week, hmm? Thinking I wouldn't notice?" He groans into your mouth. He grabs your chin in his fingers, forcing your head back. He leans in and begins kissing your neck, relishing the way you begin to shiver, making soft pretty moans for him. He makes his way up your neck, pausing at your ear, dragging your bottom lip down with his thumb.

"Wrap your legs around me," he whispers.

You jump into his arms, winding your thighs tightly around his waist, seizing him as tight as you can, even adding a little roll of your hips, hungry for friction.

Miguel grunts at your eagerness and uses the cabinet behind you to pin you up against, still keeping you wrapped around him. He uses one hand to guide your dress back up and over your thighs, groaning when he realizes you went commando today. He gives you his fingers, causing sharp, high pitched moans to escape you.

"Monta mis dedos, hermosa."

(Ride my fingers, beautiful)

-----

Now, when you eventually did your walk of shame back to the lab, your first time having sex with Miguel seemed like a blur, but in those heated moments during that encounter, they seemed endless and mind-numbing. The pleasure was damn near overwhelming.

No man's fingers sent you into orgasm as many times as his did. No man's tongue ever explored and lapped you up as intimately and expertly as his did.

And no man's cock was as fucking addictive and dangerous as his was.

You were now his little slut and you loved it.

Even though you didn't really confide in any of your co-workers, people around HQ seemed to put two and two together that you were the one to be envied, the new woman occupying Miguel's bed and attention.

After the second time you guys hooked up, you laid in his bed at HQ, the Queen sized bed seeming almost not big enough to hold his enormous size as he pounded you relentlessly into it. Hours passed until you both were covered in sweat, fully coated in each other's slick, the comforter and top sheet cast to the side, since the heat you generated during the rounds you two shared was more than enough to keep you warm.

You panted, staring at his ceiling, absolutely hammered with satisfaction.

He sat up after a few moments, rubbing the back of his neck. He got up and went into his bathroom. You heard the sounds of him relieving himself and then a squeak from a faucet as his shower turned on.

You come out of your daze after a moment, confused. You feel a slight tug of worry as you see him turn on the shower immediately, occupying himself right after you fucked and can't help but feel a rush of insecurity in what you thought was a pleasurable experience for the both of you.

He just seemed to need to rinse off as the water shuts off only after a couple minutes. He walks out with a towel around his waist, water dripping from his body, creating little pools on his tile floor, digging in his dresser drawers for some underwear and clean clothes.

"I have a meeting in about a half hour. You're welcome to rest for a bit longer, though. I trust you to lock my door on your way out?"

You blink rapidly, taken aback by his shortness with you. But, you realize you don't really have a good reason to be upset right now. You two certainly aren't dating. You haven't even had a long, meaningful conversation or got to know the guy yet. Just one, now two, steamy hookups at work and that's it.

You nod with a tight lipped smile, trying to hide your disappointment. Miguel nods back in acknowledgement and goes back to drying himself off, resting a leg on an armchair in the corner, still butt naked.

You just watch him, captivated by his beauty. You realize that you're not going to get clarity on what this is between you two unless you speak now.

"Miguel....?"

His name sounds innocent in the way it leaves your lips, despite the filth they were committing on his genitals just an hour earlier.

He looks at you, not pausing his task.

"Yes?"

You hesitate, scared of his reaction to your next question.

"Um, what are we, exactly? Or, rather, I guess, what is this we're doing?" You gesture between yourself and him.

He finally stops and looks at you, his brow furrows.

Your heart drops, realizing you might have spoke too soon.

But his brow softens, just a little bit. It was only a natural question to ask, after all. What kind of ass would he be for being upset at you for asking? But unfortunately, at this time, what he has to offer is probably not what you're hoping for.

"Well...," he says quietly, thinking deeply. "I think we definitely have strong physical chemistry together. I'd like to have more of these experiences with you, if you're up for it."

You nod, slightly encouraged by the news but wanting more.

"And so...are we exclusively seeing each other?"

Miguel doesn't answer right away, but then he says firmly after a beat, "I don't date."

You feel a knot in your stomach. Not what you wanted to hear, for sure.

"But, I do think us limiting or having no other sexual partners while we're seeing one another is a sensible thing to do," he says. "Out of respect for you and I, either one of us should let the other know if we begin seeing someone else, or if we wish to terminate the relationship."

You sit, slowly processing his words, pulling the top sheet over your legs as the heat from your encounter has now worn off.

"So, you'd like to have just a physical relationship with me? Like friends with benefits?"

Miguel nods slowly. "Yeah, you could call it that, I suppose."

Your mind races, you already know this is a horrible idea but here you are contemplating it anyway.

"Just sex, but we're only fucking each other, and either one of us can end the relationship at any time? No feelings involved?"

Miguel gives you a little grin. "Sounds good to me. But, I do want to heavily emphasize the last part. No feelings involved, please. If you don't think you'll be able to do this, there's no shame in letting me know."

You swallow. "Any, um...reason why you're so against dating or having any sort of emotional commitment?"

Miguel blinks. "I'd rather not get deep into that, but, I suppose to make myself more understood: I avoid emotional affairs, mainly due to my work and because of the lifestyle I lead. I have tremendous responsibilities and I can't devote time to nurture a relationship like a normal person would. Does that answer your question?"

You fiddle with a strand of your hair. "Yeah...that makes more sense."

You look off, still deep in thought. You're at the ledge, almost about to jump, despite the obvious pain that would inevitably become yours when you hit the water, the sharp rocks of disappointment and heartache would become your bed.

"I would like to be friends with benefits with you, on one condition," you say.

"What's that?" a small smirk appears on Miguel's face, a little excited now at your willingness to give him your body on a regular basis.

"We spend at least 30 minutes after the deed holding each other, just as part of normal aftercare."

Miguel raises his eyebrows, a quizzical look on his face. He's been out of the dating game for so long. He had to relearn how to be soft and let that side of him through again, and it didn't come naturally. But it sure doesn't mean that he's changing his mind on wanting to be something more than fuck buddies, he still wanted to stay away from the unpredictable tides of human emotions at all costs.

"Very well, fair. I don't mind a little cuddle afterwards, for your sake. If that's all you need?" He asks.

You nod silently, hoping your modest request isn't turning him off.

He walks over to you, getting back on the bed, putting an arm behind his head while you scoot closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder, sighing in content. He wraps his free hand around your shoulder, closing his eyes, allowing the time to pass in silence.

The silence is a little uncomfortable, but at least he's holding you. After some time, Miguel gives your shoulder a squeeze and sits up. "Perdóname(forgive me), I really do need to get going now. Take your time, though you know. And lock the door behind you on your way out please."

"When would you like to do this again?" You ask.

"Tomorrow, at 11 am," he answers. He looks at you with a small side smile. "I'll clear your schedule with your supervisor. Don't worry about it."

You shoot a smile his way, excited about playing hooky tomorrow to fuck Miguel instead. And the best part was he was in on it too. Even if you couldn't be his girlfriend, this was the next best thing, or so you told yourself.

-----

The next day at 11 am, your third physical encounter is well underway as you're on your knees under Miguel's desk, sucking him off during one of his virtual meetings. Peter B is rattling off, throwing in some painful dad jokes which makes Miguel roll his eyes. You stuff more of him in the back of your throat, forcing his attention back you.

"Carajo (fuck)....keep doing that," he mutters to you. You moan in response, your mouth full of him, throwing everything you can into each flick of your tongue.

Miguel groans and grabs a fistful of your hair. "So fuckin pretty," he coos quietly to you.

"What's that, Miguel?" Peter asks through the meeting speakers.

"Shut the FUCK up Peter," Miguel hisses back, moving your head with his hand.

"Okay, so anyway, like I was saying...." Peter continues.

Miguel shuts off the meeting with a short grunt.

-----

The 4th time, you find yourself fogging the windows in his car as you straddle him, moving your hips in toe-curling circles, edging him closer to combustion in his backseat.

The 5th time, your legs are on his shoulders in his office again. The 6th time, he's between your legs at your apartment, gently coaxing the soul out of your body with his torturous tongue. You glance down at him and he's looking up at you, intoxicated with the taste of everything you're excreting onto his perfect face.

You melt at the sight and realize when you're shaking afterwards that your worst fear is becoming a reality. Your fucking is turning into lovemaking, expressions of lust giving way to affection, the passion molding into adoration.

You clinged to the breadcrumbs he offered you, your delusion fueling the belief that over time, they could sustain you. Any praise he offered you when he was rutting into you, you collected in the empty pockets lining your heart, not knowing you were building your own Roman Empire. The naive architect over your own demise. His crimson eyes your downfall.

The part of your brain you thought you could shut off while you let your body do the talking was in fact alive. Somewhere along the line, one of the hundred deadly thrusts of his hips was responsible for flicking the switch.

Letting him in was like your own version of a Trojan Horse. His troubled soul and enchanting voice pulled and tugged at your trustful and altruistic nature until he lowered your guard. Soon, he was laying siege and attacking the city of your heart, carelessly laying waste to the very walls that welcomed him...not caring that you were drowning in your own blood you shed at his expense, his own confession of love for you the only antidote for your suffering, which you only hoped to God existed, possibly harboured somewhere in the far down recesses of his mind that he didn't dare open.

The 7th time, you're having sex in your bed again. He's on top of you this time. And you're not sure if it's the delicious way he's groaning when you say his name, the tender way he's cupping your face and not letting you look anywhere else but him as he rocks his full length into you, but it causes you to blurt out,

"I love you, Miguel."

He pants, and stops moving, hanging his head with his eyes shut. He holds the position for a moment then climbs off of you, rubbing his face and temples as he sits on the edge of the bed. You sit up too, wishing you could reel your words back into your head as quickly as you said them.

"I'm sorry...," you bite your lip. "Please don't stop..."

After a beat, he stands up and begins to look for his clothes. "It's fine." He says simply.

You look at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

"I made it very clear from the beginning. I don't do feelings. I don't do relationships. This is why I steer clear of this bullshit all together, because it always ends up being my fault!" He snarled, stuffing his clothes into his hands and hastily throwing on his shirt.

Your jaw falls open, it was though he did a 180. In place of who you thought could be a caring and attentive man who made you feel beautiful and spent hours learning your body and pleasuring you in ways you never thought possible, it was Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll, callous, cruel, and indifferent to your feelings. The version of him who only cared about getting off, not minding that he willingly went down this road with you, and only after causing you to fall did he take a turn, leaving you stranded.

He sighs deeply. "Look, I think we should take a break. It's not over, we can maybe resume at a later time. But it's clear you need space, and I need space too." He puts his pants back on. "I just need you to understand that no matter what, I'm not going to allow you, or myself make this into anything more than what we agreed upon in the beginning: just sex, that's it."

Tears begin to fall down your face, your heart beginning to ache in your chest from the sword he just planted in it.

"Why don't you let anyone in? Is it that crazy that maybe a girl like me actually gives a shit about you for once and isn't out for your money or your looks or to break your heart?!" you spit your words at him, coated in anguish.

He's facing away from you, fully dressed now, and deep down it kills him to see you like this, but he's too prideful and too much of a fucking coward to let you see that it does.

"I'm leaving..." he says quietly. "I came here to fuck and enjoy my time with you, not have my head examined. I'll see you around." He leaves your room, walking to your front door.

Rage is seething out of your eardrums. You scream after him,"DON'T BOTHER! LOSE MY FUCKING NUMBER!!! Fucking asshole..."

You hear a click as your front door closes and you collapse into a fray of heartbreak on your bed, your tears driving you to sleep.

--------

The next few weeks are torture as you do everything you can to forget him. Pretend as though nothing happened. Pretend as though he never ravaged your body like he did. Pretend like he never broke you apart with his tongue. Pretend like he didn't snatch your heart from your chest. Pretend like he didn't cause you to fall in love with him only for him to leave you bleeding on the ground.

You start forcing one of the other lab techs to take the weekly reports to him as you don't even want to see his face. You're successful at avoiding him for the most part, until you catch him out of the corner of your eye talking to a Spider-Woman, craning her neck to look up at him as she batted her doe eyes and pouted her lip, green claws of jealousy sinking into you once more.

It was the night of the annual Spider Gala where the achievements of the Spider Society would be the highlights of the evening and various awards would be presented, with all employees expected to attend. You broke down and told Jess about your heartbreak from Miguel, and she managed to convince you to attend anyways.

"Show his dumb ass what he's missing out on."

And show him, (and all the male spiders), you did. Necks turned as you made your way across the room to the bar, donning a strapless black evening gown with a sweetheart neckline that kissed your breasts and held them up just right, and a mouthwatering slit in the right thigh. However, once you got your hands on the alcohol, you found it hard to stop throwing down one drink, after another, after another down the hatch. You took a shot each time you saw Miguel glowering at you from across the room, or each time a pretty new Spider tried to talk to him. Rational thoughts checking out for the evening and inebriation settling in.

You found yourself weeping in the bathroom, mascara running down your face when the voice over the speaker announces, "This year's Spider-Man of the year goes to...Miguel O'Hara."

An outbreak of applause interrupts your sobs and you hear Miguel's quiet acceptance speech, the inflections in his rich voice barely moving. The liquid in your veins suddenly inspires you to march back in to the dining hall.

Miguel is sitting back down and when he turns his face back to the stage, it freezes at the person and the silent death stare coming from their tear stained face: you, the woman he scorned, and he knew what the books said about hell hath no fury. Now, all of spider society had a front row seat.

You spoke in a cool tone, fire lining your pupils,

"And I'd like to take a second to congratulate Mr. O'Hara. Well deserved....You know what's so great about him? Just how hard he works. I mean, you couldn't find a boss like him anywhere with how dedicated he is to his work. Nevermind how many people he hurts to achieve his goal and toss aside like trash..."

A pin drops.

"But hey, whatever it takes to protect the multiverse, right?" your voice started to drip with forced sweetness.

The air in the room has become uncomfortably thick, but nobody dares interrupt your rampage. In the audience, Peter B. Parker looks at you sympathetically.

Ahhh typical Miggy, always breaking hearts. Not the first girl he's drove insane like this because he won't commit or let anyone get close to him...

You continue with your speech, "Because feelings are something to be ashamed of, right? Can't let people think you have a weakness or a soft side to you, because then they'll just use it against you. So, you gotta ruin every single good thing that happens to you, because when you lost it the first time, it nearly destroyed you, so you'd rather not have it at all."

The people sitting at Miguel's table give little shrieks of terror as he bolts up, knocking the table askew with his powerful thighs and swiftly walks out, his hands clenched in fists. You follow after him, feeling yourself becoming more and more unhinged.

"Get the fuck away from me," he scowls at you, his pace not slowing down as you pursue him down the empty halls of HQ.

"Just keep running huh, like you always do?" You spew at him as tears run down your face, your eye makeup dark like a raccoon. "How do I taste huh? How do you like me now? You like what you've done to me? You like torturing me like this?!"

You shove and slap him and he whips around, temper snapped, and lands a fist in the wall, the impact reverberating off the stone walls as the surface under his fist cracks slightly.

He pants, his shoulders tense, each back muscle defined underneath his black tux.

"You're done...," he says in a shaky voice. "I need you to stay away from me."

"Good, I'm fucking HAPPY to!!!" you respond sarcastically, throwing your arms in the air. "That's the nicest thing you could do for me at this point!

His back is still turned to you and he leaves without a word.

-------

That same night

You're perched on a lab table, sobbing in the empty lab when a tall figure approaches you, holding a glass of ice water. Your face shoots up to see who it is, only to be let down when it's not Miguel.

"Peter?"

Peter B. Parker walks in, his bowtie hanging undone from his dress shirt collar.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay." He offers the glass to you and you take it, nursing a few sips.

"I'm...I'm fine...," you sniffle.

"Hey, come here..."

He takes his handkerchief from his tux pocket and dabs at your tears, taking care to not press too firmly into your face and ruin your makeup, despite the fact your tears already have.

"So beautiful..."

He studies your face, and you look back into his, his brown eyes filled with concern, the five o'clock shadow of his face contrasting with the dim light from the only desk lamp in the room, making him look oddly inviting.

He brings a hand to your cheek, running it gently along your chin and starts pulling you closer to him.

"Pete, what..."

He crashed his lips against yours aggressively, the stubble from his face tickling your skin.

"Peter!! Pete... stop...," you gasp in surprise, but then you go numb when he begins kissing your neck.

The way he's kissing your neck is dangerous. He doesn't try to be clean about it, either. His lips are soft and messy, leaving a trail of wetness along your collar and making his way to your chest.

You start to buck your hips, your body responding eagerly to the special attention he's paying to it.

"Pete...no...you're married...."

"We're separated," he mumbles, throwing your dress over his head.

"But I....ohhh....God...," you groan, pushing your back against the wall closest to you, your fists flying to his hair to keep him locked in place as he laps at you from under your dress.

Peter smiles devilishly.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me," he says softly.

You shudder.

"Oh, you like that baby?"

You nod eagerly, his tongue on your body plus the liquor in your system catapulting your mind into a state of intense pleasure.

"That feels good. Fffuck Peter.....," you moan breathlessly.

"Mmmm you're sexy when you say my name like that. Miguel doesn't know what a fool he is, passing up a pretty little thing like you...," Peter groans, adding two of his digits this time, his slick covered handsome face coming up to stare at you come undone in his hand..

"Peter...Peter, oh God...."

That's all he needs to hear from you to convince him you're ready to be fucked. You two mess with his belt buckle and soon he's snapping into you deliciously and deep, your nails in his back.

"That's it baby, let me fuck you....urgh, tell me, baby, did he fuck you like this? You're gonna forget about him when I'm done with you. Gonna make you crave this cock instead."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let him have his way with you for the rest of the night.

-----

Peter was a good fuck...and boy he did make you feel good for a few hours. But when you awoke the next morning in Peter's bed, Miguel still stayed in the back of your mind. If there was anything else you could have done to get Miguel to be totally turned off from you, this would be it. Winding up in bed with one of his closest allies.

At work the next few weeks, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a scarlet letter A on your chest. Whispers and eyes followed you, conversations shifted in every room you entered. It was beginning to be too much. The occasional time you were unsuccessful at avoiding Miguel's presence, you wanted nothing more than to just cease to exist in that moment.

Your performance slipped and your supervisor took notice. One day, you went into his office and explained you were putting in your two weeks except you wanted to take your leave immediately. He couldn't help but nod and agree. He took pity on you after Jess explained the situation to him and arranged it so you would receive severance pay for a few months after you left. An unexpected fortune admist the sea of misfortunes you were being dealt as of late.

You packed up your desk that afternoon, a twinge of sadness sank from your chest to your belly as you prepared to leap into the unknown as you took one last look at the place that swallowed you up and spat you back out.

There was nothing left for you here. Miguel's face flashed across your mind one more time as you stepped across the threshold. The door closing on your past, the promise of healing hanging in the rays of sunshine that hit your cheeks.

----

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #miguel o'hara smut #peter b parker #peter b parker smut #miguel o'hara angst

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theres-a-body-here · 8 months

Text

Scumtober- Day 18 (Medical Play)

SCP-049 x Male!reader

"Now, now," said SCP‐049 calmly, raising a hand to wave vaguely at the array of tools. "Let us begin. First things first – tell me how you've been feeling recently?"

You snapped out of your trance. You were busy looking around the containment room. Right, you're here for a checkup. You've recently been feeling under the weather, which is concerning considering you're an Euclid class SCP. Even more ironic, your abilities pertain to human diseases and ailments, more specifically, spreading them on an unprecedented level yet remaining immune to them. So its not hard to see why the Foundation would be interested to know what exactly is infecting you.

"Ive been feeling strange.....melancholic" you say softly as you glance at his medical tools curiously. The doctor nods as his hand goes under his chin as if in thought. He motions for you to continue. You look through your memories. "I saw one of the assistants whispering to one of the researchers the other day. She laughed and I felt....left out"

The Plague doctor stops pondering as he internally facepalms. You're just lonely. He could cure this in his sleep.

SCP‐049 leaned against the table, his mask's beak pointing at you. "Ah yes, the Pestilence of loneliness," he mused. "A most insidious affliction indeed. But fear not," he purred, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. "For I shall be your... cure."

Without warning, SCP‐049 pulled back suddenly, revealing a syringe in his gloved hand. Before you could react, he pressed it firmly against your neck and pressed down on the plunger, injecting you with an unknown substance. As he did so, he continued to speak in his smooth, almost hypnotic tone. "There now, that won't do. Let's see if this helps clear up those pesky blues."

He removes the syringe and starts cleaning up the spot where he injected you. Within minutes you start to feel a warmth traveling from your chest to your groin. You blush as you start to visibly tent up. You move your hands to cover your boner. The doctor huffs and shakes his head as he gently grabs your hands to pull them away. You groan but let him since you want this funk to end already, no matter what crazy ideas this loon has.

As SCP‐049 began examining you, his movements became increasingly sensual, his fingers tracing along your inner thighs and brushing against your growing erection. "Tell me, mon cher," he whispered behind his mask. "Have you ever considered... exploring your own desires? There's no shame in wanting pleasure, after all."

Your mind swirled with arousal as you tried to focus on answering him truthfully. Finally, you managed to stammer out a response. "I... I haven't really thought about it much."

He simply gives a hum in response before tugging at your pants. Your blush darkens but you let him, he's the professional after all....you think. The doctor pulls down your pants and underwear as he carefully folds them and places them on a chair besides the trolley holding the tools. You shiver as your bare ass touches the cold metal of the exam table. The doctor reaches over to the trolley and pulls it closer to the table. He picks up the clipboard.

With practiced ease, SCP‐049 spread your legs apart with his free hand, exposing your genitals to his gaze. He hummed appreciatively at the sight of your throbbing member, eager and throbbing. He tilted his head as he ran a finger lightly along the sensitive skin of your balls. You let out a soft sigh at the contact. Your cock flexes and twitches.

"Interesting..." he murmured, jotting down some notes on his clipboard. SCP‐049 moved closer to you, pressing the tip of his pen directly onto the slit of your penis. At the slight pressure, you let out a surprised whine, involuntarily thrusting your hips towards him. This elicited another low hum of approval from SCP‐049 as he went back to writing more notes.

He suddenly puts the clipboard onto the trolley. He picks up a thin metal rod and applies some lubricant to the end of it. You raise an eyebrow as you try to guess where its going. With deliberate slowness, he placed the lubed end of the rod against the slit of your penis. You sharply inhale as you wait, shaking with nerves.

"Relax, cherie," he crooned, running a gentle hand across your stomach. "This won't hurt...much."

Slowly, oh so slowly, SCP‐049 pushed the sounding rod into your urethra, making sure to apply just enough pressure to keep you aroused without causing pain. As he worked, he couldn't help but marvel at the way your body responded to each millimeter of intrusion – your breath coming faster, your cock growing harder, and your eyes widening in anticipation.

Finally, with a satisfied grunt, SCP‐049 reached the desired depth and held the rod steady, taking great satisfaction in hearing your whimpers. Placing a small clamp near the base of the rod, he secured it in place, ensuring that it wouldn't slide any further into your urethral tunnel. Satisfied with his work, he returned to his clipboard, scribbling furiously as he documented everything he observed.

You whimper as he takes his time. "Please....I need more" You moan out desperately. The doctor rolls his eyes and sighs. Being a doctor can be so demanding sometimes. He shakes his head as he lubricates his gloved hands liberally.

"Oh, very well," SCP‐049 sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his mask. "It seems our dear patient requires additional stimulation." He presses his fingers against your puckered hole, inciting a soft moan from you.

With expert precision, SCP‐049 inserted two fingers past the tight ring of muscle guarding your entrance. He scissored them open once inside, stretching you wider. Each movement was accompanied by a keening cry from you, your voice hoarse with desire. Your hips buck and your cock bounces, causing the metal rod to slide a bit in and out.

"Subject exhibiting signs of extreme arousal. Penis fully erect, testicles drawn up close to body. Vocalizations indicate heightened state of excitement. Shall proceed with next phase of experiment"

As SCP‐049 spoke, he removed his fingers from your hole and replaced them with three – one middle finger sandwiched between two index fingers. Your body writhed helplessly on the table as you let out guttural moans.

SCP‐049 grabs hold of your shoulder for support, using it as leverage to drive his digits deeper still. His fingers move with a cruel rhythm, plundering your depths ruthlessly until you felt like nothing more than an empty vessel begging to be filled. You grasp the edge of the table for support as he abuses your prostate. The sounding rod bobbed maddeningly inside you, adding yet another layer of sensory input to fuel your impending climax. Already, you could feel the telltale stirrings deep within your core as your orgasm approached.

Desperate to reach release, you claw at SCP‐049's robe, searching for something solid to anchor yourself amidst the storm of pleasure. Without warning, he yanks the sounding rod out of your urethra in one swift motion, sending a geyser of hot semen shooting forth from your dick. It splatters across your torso and chin, leaving you utterly spent and trembling with post‐orgasmic bliss.

"Magnifique!" SCP‐049 declared triumphantly, moving back slightly to admire his handiwork. "But I fear our session has only just begun, ma cher. We have much more ground to cover if we are to rid you of your loneliness."

With that cryptic statement, he began to undo the fastenings of his robes.

This was going to be a long visit to the doctors.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

#scp foundation #scp 049 #scp x reader #scp 049 x reader #plague doctor #plague doctor x reader #scp fandom #medical kink #urethral sounding #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #scumtober 2023 #scumtober

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hitomisuzuya · 6 months

Note

HI SUZU I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL!!

can i request a nsfw scara x needy reader where scara hasn't been giving us a lot of attention and we're just completely touch deprived and begging for his attention?

xxx

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Cunilligus. Orgasm denial. Pussy drunk Scara. Brat taming. Masturbation.

Sorry this took me a bit to get to, dear❤️

Being a Fatui Harbinger kept Scaramouche busy, and you knew that. You'd hardly seen him at all lately besides a few kisses in passing. You missed him. Your body ached for him.

You were sitting in his office, watching him work. Enough was enough. Scaramouche was going to give you attention, even if you had to annoy it out of him.

"Scara, is there anything different about me?" You suddenly asked. You stared at him, waiting for an answer. Your lower lip trembled when he didn't even look up at you.

"Hm?" He said, not even a pause in his writing.

"Do you notice anything different about me?" You really enunciated some of your words.

Scaramouche sighed, flicking his eyes up for a moment. "Your hair?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Nope," You countered quickly.

"Your perfume?" He tried again.

"Nope." You shook your head. Scaramouche looked annoyed.

"New jewelry?"

"Nope."

Scaramouche looked really annoyed. You played with the ends of your hair nervously. "So it is your hair?" Scaramouche said, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Now he looked really annoyed, pressing his pen a little rough on the paper. A few moments later, your fingers plucked his pen out his hand, brushing his papers aside you proceeded to sit on his desk.

"Listen, brat--" He began but you cut him off. "All I want is your attention, Scara," You pouted your lower lip out at him for a moment.

Honestly, Scaramouche did miss you too. But there were a lot of preparations he that had to be done before he went to Inazuma. He just had a harder time expressing it sometimes than you did.

However, you needed to be put in your place. He knew what he needed to do. You sounded so pathetic that it made him weak in the knees.

Scaramouche put a hand on your thigh, seeing you visibly shiver. "Oh? Is that all you want?" He taunted, his hand traveling further up to cup your cunt outside of your panties. He rubbed his fingers around on your clit.

You let out a shaky sigh. He applied more pressure with his fingers. Moans bled into your sighs, seeking more friction from his fingers as your clit started to throb. He took them away, laughing when you whimpered in protest. "Why did you stop?" You whined a little.

He glared at you, bunching your skirt up your hips and spreading your legs. "Brats need to learn their place, kitten. You wanted my attention, you are at my mercy now," Pushing his chair back, he dipped his head between your legs.

His tongue prodded your sensitive clit outside of your panties. He groaned as his tongue further soaked your panties with saliva. His hands tightened on your thighs when you squirmed. "Stay still," He growled, licking a line down your cunt and back up again.

Reaching down, you pressed his mouth onto your cunt. He vibrated a moan on your clit, swirling his tongue around it, enjoying every twitch and whimper of need from you.

Scaramouche is incredibly good at building up slow, toe curling orgasms with his tongue. He kitten licked and sucked your clit until your fingernails dug into his scalp from how intensely your orgasm was building.

He had you right where he wanted you. He knew you were close when your moans turned high pitched. He merely smirked at you when he suddenly stopped his ministration again. "Sc-Scara!" The moan you let out was so desperate.

He batted your hand away when you started to pull your panties aside. "Please," You coaxed, stroking your fingers through your hair to tempt him further. He hastily tugged them off, spreading your legs more before sloppily working his tongue on your cunt again.

It wasn't long before he was building your orgasm back up, somehow tighter than before. "Don't you dare cum until I say you can," He moaned into your cunt.

Scaramouche couldn't stand the aching in his cock anymore. Keeping one of your legs held open, he unbuttoned his shorts and took out his cock. Squeezing the leaking tip, he groaned drunkly into your cunt as he pumped his hand.

You were choking back sobs of pleasure between your moans. Your cunt clenched, your walls squeezing around his tongue as he swirled it between your walls. You held his face against his cunt, rolling your hips into his mouth.

"C-Can I cum, please?" You begged. It was no surprise to Scaramouche when the question tumbled out of your mouth. You had been absolutely aching to ask it.

He didn't answer you, latching his lips around your clit instead. You cried out, your legs shaking as you writhed on his desk. It was clear that he was eating you out for his own pleasure now.

You couldn't help yourself. You'd missed him, his touches, his attention, his dominance so much. You ached for him every second you were apart from him. You sudden squirted on his tongue, whimpering apologies between cries of pleasure.

Scaramouche plunged his tongue inside you, lapping up your release. He vibrated moans on your cunt, rutting into his hand until cum spilled warm onto his hand.

He nursed you through your orgasm, licking and sucking your clit. He gave your clit one final kitten lick after a few long minutes. "Now, be a good girl and let me finish my work. Feel free to play with yourself until I am," He teased as he wiped his mouth.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche imagines

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riiwrites · 5 months

Text

“beauty takes time!” - c. nakahara

pairing : chuuya x fem!reader

summary : when you and chuuya are set to have a date for a specific time, both of you realise time has never been on your side when it comes to getting ready.

a/n : readers relatable, reader is me.

genre : fluff, drabble

wc : 1k

“Doll?” A faint voice is heard from downstairs as you’re concentrating on your eyeliner, your tongue sticking out just a little bit as you carefully apply the pen. His voice catches you off guard just a little bit as your expression softens and you stop your movements, looking over your shoulder and hearing his footsteps making their way up your stairs.

“Chuuya!” Your expression lightens up, getting excited at the sound of his voice as you turn back to the mirror, now speeding up your process as you try and finish your eyeliner wing just before he makes it through the door.

He opens your door, raising an eyebrow as he does so and looks up at your back as you’re too busy being preoccupied by your vanity table and makeup, he can’t help but snicker at the sight.

“You wanna turn around for me, beautiful?” He asks with a smirk, watching in the mirror as your face turns into a little pout as you spin around to face him in your chair.

“Hey gorgeous.”

“Hi!” You exclaim joyfully at first, then begin to pout as you see how well your boyfriend has been dressed for what looks hours now.

“What’s got you pouting now?” He playfully asks, walking over and crouching so he can tilt your chin up to look at him.

“I’m not done yet!” You exclaim again, your expression turning frustrated as you see him all dressed in black in the finest of all suits.

“I can see that, considering how long I had been waiting for ya to text me..” He chuckles. Your expression however deflates as you scramble to find your phone on your vanity, looking at the time.

“Oh sh- we’re going to be late!!” You shout as your hand slaps over your mouth, eyes wide with shock as you bounce your leg up and down to which Chuuya places his hand on it to prevent it from shaking so much.

“Hey hey, no worries, we can just get the next one.” He reassures, smiling at your pout and saddened eyes.

“Noo..” You cover your face with your hands, groaning and mumbling profanities. Chuuya stands up and places a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair as he hugs you to his chest.

“Its not like I paid for anything yet, it’s just the reservation.”

“But I’m wasting your time..” You mumble.

“Hey.” His eyebrows furrow as he crouches down again to make eye contact with you, his expression now serious.

“You never waste my time, kay?, you make my time more valuable than you could ever imagine.”

Your heart flutters at his words as you nod slightly, pouting again as he smiles once more, stealing a peck from your pouting lips as he stands back up, now walking over to your bed with hands tucked into his fancy trouser pockets as he sits on your bed, looking at your reflection in the mirror again.

“But, doll, remind me why you applying makeup takes about half of your damn day?” He asks as he places hand elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his palm.

“Because, Chuuya, beauty takes time! You can’t just rush eyeliner, or putting on lashes..it takes effort and time, lots of it.” You explain with a cute little smile as you finish the second wing on your eyeliner, now turned to the mirror again. He nods in understanding, looking off to see all of your plushies you have placed on shelves that were originally meant for books, but clearly you had priorities.

“Right, yeah I know that, just..you know you’re beautiful to me right?”

You pause at this, your smile fading as you turn to look at him.

“Mhm.” You respond.

“Yeah? You positive?” He asks, wanting to be certain of your knowledge on this.

“Mhm..” You say with a bit of unease which he spots instantly, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay okay! Maybe sometimes I do find myself taking a bit more effort for you..but it’s not just that! I really enjoy doing my makeup I do! I just want it to be perfect..” You explain, turning back to the mirror again to finish the touch ups. Chuuya now stands up as he makes his way over to you, placing his hand on your shoulders and staring at you in the mirror.

“Yknow, im already looking at perfect, she’s sitting right infront a’ me.”

You let out a little smile as you tilt your head far back, looking at him from above you and he leans down and gives you a longing kiss on your lips, pulling away as he watches you touch up your last bits of makeup.

“I could just stare at ya for hours, ya know that right?”

“No you couldn’t, you’d get bored by the time I had finished my base..” At this he can’t help but laugh, stroking the top of your head as you go to check your phone again.

“Well..we’ve definitely missed our reservation..” You pout, eyebrows furrowing once more.

“Like I said, we can get the next one, doll.”

“Mmm..” You mumble, then that’s when you get an idea, smiling as you turn to look at your slightly confused looking boyfriend.

“What..?”

You hold up a makeup brush, smirking as you wave it infront of his face and you watch it change from confused to absolute mortified.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on Chuuya pleaseeee?” You furrow your eyebrows at him as you plea and whine, bouncing your leg a bit.

“Doll, we can just get the next reservation.” He says with more clarity in his voice, beginning to back away from you.

“This is such a perfect way to pass time thoughhh!”

“No, I’m telling you no.” He says more sternly, squinting his eyes as you slowly get up from your seat and make your way over to him, almost as if you were a cat about to attack it’s prey.

“Doll.” You don’t answer.

“Doll, don’t. you. da-“

That’s how Chuuya ended up in his current predicament. Him, not looking too pleased as he holds your waist as you sit on his lap, legs at either side of his to cage him in your wrath as you add the blush to the apple of his cheeks.

With a sigh, he looks at you with a raised eyebrow as he asks for the third time in the past 20 minutes : “Ya done yet?”. He lets out a huff as you shake your head, but he can’t help but crack a smile as he thinks seeing your pretty smile makes it all the more worth it.

“What about the reservation?” He asks another time, rubbing his hands up and down your waist as your gaze falls to the side, trailing off in thought.

“Well..beauty takes time..so, it’ll need to wait.” You say with another smile, placing the blusher brush down to turn apply some lipstick, to which his eyes widen as he backs away.

“I agreed to everyone thing but that.” He clarifies. You pout.

“But-“

“No buts, princess. ‘m sorry.”

You let out a sigh as you then have a lightbulb moment, smirking cheekily as you look at him, puckering your lips and closing your eyes, he can’t help but smirk back.

“You want a kiss, baby?” He asks as he leans in and kisses you, pulling away after a few seconds as you begin laughing, he furrows his eyebrows.

“The hell ya laughing at?”

You stop laughing to wipe your thumb across his bottom lip, smearing the transferred lipstick off his lip and onto his skin as his eyes widen in realisation.

“You little shit..” He grumbles, beginning to grab your face and pepper it in lots of kisses, making you laugh from how ticklish his lips felt on your skin.

Yep, you two had definitely missed that second reservation. But Chuuya couldn’t care less. Not when you were giggling like this and had a smile that made his mafia heart melt into a puddle.

One thing you were good for was savouring your time, so Chuuya was going to make sure he savoured every moment of this memory and make it linger in his mind for as long as he’s alive.

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101

@reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi @silverbladexyz @inojuuy @boarcide @poedostoevsky11 @kissesmellow21 @star-light18464 @aliyahgracedrawing @chuuyathehatrack @boredwithwrath @akutagawasimp87 @rainy-dazie @lone-ray @ishqani

white = unable to be tagged :(

@/riiwrites reblogs are appreciated as always ❤︎︎

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #fluff #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader fluff #chuuya fluff #chuuya x you #chuuyabsd #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x y/n #bsd fluff #i love chuuya #riiwrites

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starrierknight · 7 months

Text

𝟎𝟑𝟎. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

You did his eyeliner and one thing led to another. Who can blame you, though? He had it coming (pun intended).

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 3.5k

pairing— soft dom!gn!reader x sub!getou

cw/tags— mirror sex, mommy kink (only by name, reader is otherwise gn), S&M, ruined makeup, dacryphilia, handjob, edging, orgasm delay/control, praise, humiliation, restraints (belt), dry humping/frottage, porn with feelings, plot what plot, petnames (pretty/sweet boy/thing), aftercare

The world was dark; the lights were low, and Suguru was where he should be—at your mercy.

You were straddling his lap, your fingers gently cradling his face while your other hand intricately applied dark eyeliner to his eyes. He reclined against the headboard of the bed that the two of you shared.

“All done,” you smiled, tossing the eyeliner pen elsewhere. You brushed a thumb over his cheekbone, admiring your work, as his inky black eyes fluttered open.

His eyes were framed with luscious, dark eyelashes. They're like midnight and seemed to swirl like pools of ink; The subtle swirls within them add an element of dynamism, as if they hold secrets waiting to be discovered. They have a hypnotic quality to them, as if luring you to come closer and drown, tempting you to see just how deeply you'll sink, how far you'll fall into their depths.

“How do I look?” he asked lightly, enjoying the way you drank in his appearance like this.

“Gorgeous.”

His silky hair was undone, cascading down his shoulders and a tad messy where you’d held it previously to keep his head still. Suguru (to most people) was all severe edges, all strength and hard stares; But for you, he was weak.

“Yeah?”

Responding with a soft and affirmative hum, your unoccupied hand glided along the surface of his T-shirt's lightweight cotton sleeve. A knowing smile played on your lips as you noticed the subtle tensing of his muscles beneath your touch. Suguru raised an eyebrow in response, intentionally tracing his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Oh, he knew what he was doing—it was safe to say that you both had each other figured out.

His hand, which had initially been placed on your lower back, sinuously moved to grasp your thigh. In the subdued light, he gazed at you, the shadows lending a glint to his eyelashes. Inclining his head slightly, he swept the tip of his index finger along the edge of your mouth.

He gracefully shifted away, putting on an act of feigning unawareness to the searing intensity of your stare fixed upon him. He flashed you a lopsided smile, bringing his forefinger and thumb together.

“Glitter.”

Despite Suguru's move away from you, the proximity was still compromising. He returned his attention to your face, noticing your eyes had darkened from your interaction, your jaw clenched. Blowing the speck of iridescence from his thumb, he shut his eyes, making a wish. He raised his gaze leisurely to meet yours, yet your focus remained captivated by his lips. Those gentle, rosy lips of his held an irresistible allure—he couldn’t suppress the smile that curved them. Testing the limits, he snaked a hand around the back of your neck and, just under your jaw, dragged his thumb along the line of your jugular vein.

“Suguru,” you rasped, tone of voice laced with warning.

He traced circles into your skin, touch so light it was barely there. But you were aware—so painfully aware—that it was, and that he was taunting you. His hot breath feathered the base of your throat, and you swallowed harshly at the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Something wrong?”

Fuck.

Snatching his hand away, you gripped the flesh of his arm so tightly crescent indents from your nails embedded themselves into his skin. You didn’t like being teased.

“Suguru,” you said again, voice low and dangerous, ”You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I don’t.” He toyed with the hem of your top, daring you to inch closer. “So, why don’t you show me?”

Swearing under your breath, your hand that originally rested on his cheek laced into his hair. You allowed him the liberty of a free hand, and his immediately smoothed down your back to the curve of your ass. He leaned forward, eyes closed, ready to feel your lips on his, only to meet the palm of your hand instead. He gave you a betrayed look. You smiled, eyes flashing appreciatively at the twinge of frustration that crossed his face.

As you twirled a lock of hair that framed his face around your forefinger, your attention was drawn to the shallow huffs of his breath escaping him. You trailed your fingers down the length of hair, kissing the tip before letting it go. The edges of your knuckles skimmed down his neck, past the crevice of his torso—satisfied with the wince he made as you adjusted your sitting position on his lap.

“Is that it?” He groaned, voice strangled with need. He wanted more—fuck—he needed more. Your lips on his, your hands on his skin—more.

Your amused hum rang through his body, spreading heat to the core of his abdomen.

Tugging his hair, you forced Suguru to expose the vulnerable parts of his neck to you. You ground downwards onto him through the material of his pants, peppering his jawline with open-mouthed kisses as he let out a breathy groan; starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck. Biting down lightly, you ran your tongue over the sensitive skin, earning a gasp from Suguru. His fingers dug into your hips—painfully, almost—leaving his own bruises on you to match.

So possessive.

Pulling away just a fraction, you caressed the bruised flourish with your lips, blowing a cool puff of air against the hot skin.

“Please,” he shivered; but God, revenge had never felt so sweet.

A feverish rush of heat surged through his veins, igniting a fiery lust. His stomach coiled and knotted with a mix of excitement and nerves, creating a swirling whirlpool of anticipation. At that very moment, there was nothing he wanted more than you.

With your lips still brushing the base of his ear, you murmured, “Please, what?”

“Please, mommy… just touch me, already.”

And you complied.

A tortured sound clawed its way out of his lips, a strangled moan that carried the weight of his desperation. He couldn’t take it anymore, your continuous teasing crumbling his old bravado.

“Finally,” he mumbled against your mouth, causing you to laugh into the kiss.

His large hands pressed against your lower back, pushing your hips against him. For a second you broke the kiss, tugging the soft flesh of his bottom lip before soothing it with your tongue. Your chest was flattened against Suguru's defined muscles, and you were sure Suguru could feel the frantic beat of your heart through your ribcage. Eventually, the both of you had to pull away, taking in deep inhales of air.

Grinding down lazily on his crotch, making a pitiable whine escape his lips, a sound born of both frustration and intense focus. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his face contorting with longing.

“Needy,” you teased, pulling yourself closer to him.

You nudged his legs open with your arms around his shoulders and neck, slipping your thigh between his. His breathing stuttered as your leg brushed against him, nudging his bulging cock constrained by the prison of his clothing. A tremor coursed through him, causing his body to shudder involuntarily. His nails scratched a path along your lower back, leaving behind a trail of sensation that mingled with a soft, needy whine escaping his lips.

You guided him steadily along your thigh, humping your leg, and he sighed, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair as a shiver ran through his body. As you lazily ground your knee up against him, his hips rutted up, thrusting aimlessly, desperately searching for friction. His hand descended to the thigh suspended by his hip, fingers exerting a gentle yet possessive pressure as they made contact. Simultaneously, his other arm enveloped your waist, drawing you snugly against him, creating an intimate connection between your bodies.

He gasped and let out a hoarse groan as he used you to try and reach his high, burying his face in your neck and tightening his arm around you, keeping your upper body immobile. Your breathing was uneven, and your hips skittered along his thigh.

“Please, fuck—oh,” he groaned, and you felt his cock twitch in yearning through the material of his pants.

“Stop.”

“Wha–?”

You pushed him back by the shoulders to see his face clearly. “I have an idea.”

“Seriously? Now?”

You rolled your hips once, and whatever he might have said next got caught in his throat. “Maybe you can’t take it then.”

“I can take it,” he said through gritted teeth.

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

The buckle clinked as you secured it around Suguru’s wrists, supple leather of his own belt binding them behind his back, and he’s left helpless. You smoothed your hands up to his shoulder blades, resting them there as you placed your chin on his shoulder, looking at him in the mirror opposite.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands tied behind him and stripped from head to toe in front of a full-length mirror, with you kneeling behind him, thighs pressed on either side of his waist. His eyes were set resolutely on the floor, pointedly looking anywhere but at his reflection, or you.

“Is this okay?” you asked. He mumbled something so hushed that even from your seated position, the words remained unheard, carried away on the air before they could reach your ears. “Suguru?”

“It’s okay.”

You slowly kissed down one side of his neck, your hands running down his back and smoothing to wrap around his middle. You felt his muscles tense up under your touch, and goosebumps erupted on the surface of his skin as your breath fanned against it. You sensed his muscles coiling with tension beneath your fingertips, and a ripple of goosebumps surfaced on his skin, stirred by the caress of your breath. You held him steady in your arms, taking your time to worship him, and although he relaxed, he didn’t move.

“Then why won’t you look?”

His body seemed to sag slightly as he sighed. “It’s… embarrassing.”

“We go as far as you want, my love.”

It’s almost as if you could hear his thoughts slotting into place before he answered. “No. I want this.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” he answers, eyes lifting to meet you in the mirror.

The expression he’s wearing makes your heart jump—it’s earnest and nervous, and full of adoration for you. You tilted his head towards you, capturing his lips in a searing kiss; a reminder that the risk was worth the reward, and a reminder that he was trusting himself fully to you.

Simultaneously, one of your hands travelled down his body to his already hard cock, slowly stroking it to build up a comfortable, but intense, pleasure. Suguru moaned into your mouth, breaking free from the kiss, and pushing his hips into your hand just slightly, knowing you’d pull away if he was too insistent. His eyes had scrunched shut, and his body leaned into you, searching for the pressure of your chest against his back.

You slowed your hand a fraction, your lips attaching to his neck as you sucked another dark bruise onto his skin, and you licked the new blemish, making him exhale as you bit down on it with your teeth. You continued to leave a trail of lovebites and kisses along his neck, noticing his breathing getting increasingly laboured, and you loved the way his body began to twist and push into your touch. Slowly but surely, you had built him up so that satisfaction had morphed into desperation.

You slowed your hand until it was barely moving. “Remember what we agreed?”

Your other hand raked its nails up the smooth expanse of his thigh, sinking into the plush flesh as the other suddenly quickened its pace. Suguru couldn’t help but sail into the stream of release, hips bucking upward, and so, so fucking close, your title on his lips. Right before the pleasure could roll over him, you pulled your hand away from his cock, and it was ruined.

He choked out a whimper, chest heaving with exertion as his body shuddered involuntarily.

“Keep your eyes on me, and no matter what, no cumming until I say your name. Got it?” He whined a weak ‘yes’. “Remember who you’re speaking to.”

“Yes, mommy,” he relented.

“Look up.”

“I can’t.”

Tender kisses dotted his shoulder, soft nips eliciting a gasp here and there. You knew exactly how to drive him mad with need, but he wouldn’t give in that easily.

“Oh, but you will, sweet boy.”

The soft pad of your thumb teased his slit, swiping across the aching head of his dick. It was just the smallest taste of what you could do—of how easily you could bring him to bliss. More kisses and bites marked his now burning neck and shoulders, the tiniest pressure of your fingers torturing his sensitive length.

Finally, instinct took over, and his eyes shot open the moment you stroked his dripping dick again.

“Follow my hand, baby,” you whispered.

He dragged his focus to your other hand, which was lifted just above him in the mirror.

With a deliberate slowness, your touch maintaining its gentle rhythm, you eased your hand downward to cradle Suguru's jaw. His resistance melted as he was compelled to confront his own reflection, captivated by the connection between your touch and his gaze—all desperate and needy for you.

The eyeliner you’d previously done for him was smudged, and the mascara on his eyelashes had dampened and clumped together with tears. He whined, eyes glistening, and the raw emotion on his almost painfully grimacing face had you enchanted for a second. His body had a thin sheen of sweat that gleamed in the low-light. His chest heaved, and he was arched into your hand as he searched for friction. He truly looked so beautiful like this, and you’d do whatever it would take for him to see that.

“Keep your eyes open, pretty boy. Don’t let them leave your reflection even for a second.”

You gave him a wicked grin before your hand pumped the fastest it had done yet, grip on his jaw tightening when he closed his eyes for just a fraction of a second. You stopped your movements, and he hurriedly opened his eyes for you again.

The cycle would continue, and each time he closed his eyes, you’d stop. Every time he corrected himself, you’d slow your pace as punishment, and every time he kept them open for a long while you’d speed up as a reward.

It was maddening, and nowhere near over.

“Where’d that attitude go?” you asked faux-sincerely. “You can take it all, can’t you, pretty thing?”

“Please, mommy,” he whimpered.

Thick, pearly tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in his pretty eyes as they smudged the black makeup, and rolling down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered and streaked his face, baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead, brows knitted together and the frustration just kept building.

“Look at yourself, baby. Look at how starved you are for me. Look at my hand between your thighs—your cock’s weeping—it’s aching for my touch. Look at your face, c’mon now. See it? You’re crying for me—such a pretty mess—you’re so gorgeous when you feel good. So perfect like this.”

“Please!” he cried out, “J-Just say it!”

You reached down, cupping his heavy balls, giving them a gentle squeeze and his mind goes blank. His mouth fell open with a silent moan, spit dripping from his lips down his chin.

“Won’t you put on a show for me, sweet thing?”

“I can’t—fuck—please. Please, mommy, I can’t t-take it,” he manages to moan out.

Your hand returned to his length, and your grip is feather-light. It’s moving at a torturous pace, barely even moving and yet he feels everything, though it’s not enough. Another cascade of tears spilt from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks, and a bittersweet ache coursed through him as the overwhelming intensity of pleasure bordered on aching bliss.

“Please, cum for me,” you moan sweetly, lips brushing against the shell of his ear and contrasting so greatly with the cruel smile you’re wearing.

“No, I c-can’t. Not until you–”

“Please, sweet boy, won’t you be good for me?” your deceptively saccharine words cut him off.

It provoked a near visceral reaction from him—shoulders drawn up as a chill ran down his spine. It’s like every one of his nerves was on edge, burning up from the release you kept denying him. Another broken sob escaped him.

“Just say it—please, mommy.”

“Doesn’t the suspense make it worth it, though? Isn’t it more fun to wait?” mockery dripped from your honey-like tone, the sadistic spark in your eyes glinting as he bucked into your hand.

The room seemed to pulsate with a heightened temperature, the atmosphere electrified. He felt like he was white-hot, a sensation akin to being searingly alive, as though your influence possessed an unnatural hold. He found himself incapable of resistance, unable to deny the power you exerted over him.

And yet, what if the punishment was worth it?

“I’ll leave you like this,” you chuckled, reading his thoughts. “Would you like that?”

“No! Please, I… I–”

“Beg for me one last time.”

The pressure had built so incredibly sweetly, and finally, you weren’t letting go.

“Please, s-say my name, mommy. I can’t… fuck, I can’t take it,” he sobbed for you, the words broken with gasps and moans.

“Cum for me, Suguru.”

You saying his name tipped him over the edge, squirming as he rutted shamelessly into your hand. Unintelligible thanks spilt from Suguru’s bitten lips, face contorting in ecstasy as he let out a guttural moan. His body seized up, legs trembling, and tears streaming down his face when he finally let go, and you held his chin to make him watch his reflection.

Thick spurts of cum coated your hand, and he’s moaning your title over and over like it’s all he can think of, watching himself come apart so easily for you and it just feels too good to be true.

“Fuck,” he panted, aftershocks washing through his body slumped into yours, too exhausted to continue.

“You did such a good job for me,” you murmured, brushing the hair away from his face. “Now just let me look after you, okay?”

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

The water sloshed around you both as you reached for a washcloth. Suguru was sat between your legs, full weight pressed against you as he leaned into the warmth of your body.

You cupped his face with one hand as the other gently wiped away the ruined makeup that stained his cheeks. His eyes were closed, and he rested the weight of his hand in your palm, enjoying the closeness.

“Suguru?” He hummed but made no move to speak. “I just wanted to say that I’m really proud of you, you know.”

He slowly opened his eyes, face softening at your genuine expression. You looked at him as if he were some precious gem, holding him so carefully as if he might shatter, like glasswork.

“Thank you for everything,” he said quietly.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before reaching over for the bottle of shampoo. You rubbed the liquid between your hands until it frothed, then weaved your fingers into the locks of Suguru’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly as you cleansed it.

“You’ve got Satoru’s birthday party coming this Tuesday, right?”

“I’ll be home late, then,” he sighed.

“Don’t worry about that,” you said, ”I was just thinking… you might have some issues covering up the marks.”

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned, remembering that you had indeed barely left a square inch untouched from his neck down.

“Again?” you snorted, and he felt you shudder with laughter at your own joke.

“You’re gonna have to hide them for me.”

“Oh? And what if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Could be worse,” you muttered, before tilting your head to brush your lips against his in a soft kiss.

He caught your chin in his hand, cradling it with his index finger and thumb. The feather-light touch tickled ever so slightly, and you could feel him smile briefly as you ran a hand through his hair. His fingers slid along the curve of your neck and threaded into your hair as his thumb caressed your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps rising on your arms, and he only took it as an invitation to lean in more. His hand stayed on your chin, tilting it towards him for easier access. A minute, an hour. All he knew was how soft your lips were against his own.

Eventually, his lungs burned for air and you broke the kiss, still so close that you murmured sweet nothings against his lips as you pressed your foreheads together.

Then finally, you barely catch it but it’s there, you hear in the barest of whispers—

“The water’s going cold.”

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