#anyways. going to get so so high and then maybe take my meds before I go to bed bc I kind of fell off from taking them and I need to bc it
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Paranormal II
summary: after your injury in the birthday party, Ghost takes you home, takes care of your wound - and finally gives you a night you’ll never forget… Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader
warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed
•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em
•part 2/3
an: here is part ii, and yes, yes, I know! It’s long overdue. You’re gonna have to forgive a girlie and her lack of awareness to the passage of time.
"I said go get him, not split yer head open. Ooch, lassie, look at ye bruising up. That's an ugly one."
Johnny hassled over you, thumbing your temples as he examined your wound.
Ghost had temporarily dropped you at the bar to go hunting for a med kit. When your gaze had arrayed the room, your best friend had caught your eye, smirking - only to then gasp and push his way to you.
"So what happened?"
"Mating dance," you retorted dryly.
You pressed the glove back to the wound when Johnny released you, leaning against the counter in a snort.
"Did he fall for it?"
"Hardly." Your shoulders slumped defeatedly. "I don't think he likes me very much, Johnny."
"That's Lt for ye, lass. Guy wears a skull for a face. Says he sleeps soundly in it. Shudders, I tell ye. You'd think that'd make ye think twice before approaching him, eh?"
"I think my brain short-circuited precisely for those reasons. I think maybe this hit to the head will remedy that. God knows I need to get him out of my system. A full-on purge. Like those, uh, uh, really intense only-water-for-dinner kind of diets."
"It's hard to get someone ye don't know out of yer mind."
"Exactly! Jokes aside, this is insane even by drunk me standards. Never thought I'd have a crush at this age, but, whelp, here goes nothing! Will get him out of my mind as soon as I stop gawking at those muscles, okay?"
Your friend chuckled.
Over Soap's shoulder, you caught sight of Ghost's form paving way to you, broad shoulders squared, back straight and gait commanding. And yet, there was an almost endearing swagger to his stride, subtle as it was, and it only added to the unmistakable confidence simmering underneath that quiet outfit.
Suddenly, you were air-headed. In the manner people jumped out of his path like he was the most lethal being they'd ever beheld had you seeing rainbows and hearing angelic hymns.
A stupid girl with her big, stupid crush. When was the last time you got one, anyway? High school, that's when. And you felt like a silly schoolgirl again, all those eighth grade magazines on how to talk to boys and attract your crush flooding back.
You wondered what three-way advice they would spell out for someone like Ghost.
Bathe in the blood of his enemies. A sexy look can go a long way!
Rip out the heart of his enemy and gift it to him. All men enjoy a sincere show of affection every now and then!
Take a bullet for him. Take several! Nothing says I have the hots for you like bleeding out in the arms of your crush!
When his eyes found yours, uncompromising and intense even from such distance, the choir increased until you felt like your chest might implode.
"Never mind," you dreamily sighed. This particular crush wasn't leaving anytime soon.
"Johnny," Ghost voiced, coming around the man. To you, he crooked a finger. "They got band-aids, but I need to stitch you up. We'll resolve the matter in your place."
Your head perked. "We will?"
Was your night actually going to end with Ghost in your apartment? Maybe even bed?
You looked at Johnny, Johnny looked at you - and you both raised your eyebrows in a knowing look.
"What the bloody hell you two peepin' at each other for?" Ghost growled.
"Peepin'? What's peepin'?" Johnny.
"We're not peepin'." You.
Eager, you hopped down - and immediately regretted it when your vision swayed. Whoops... You clutched your head tighter.
"Easy there," Johnny voiced, hands supporting your shoulders.
Once you righted, you looked up at Ghost. Expectant. Would he carry you?
You kind of, sort of, definitely desired his arms around you again.
As if seeing right through your needs, the muscle below his eye twitched. He set a challenge with his gaze, forcing you to admit defeat and walk a soldier's walk.
You faintly winced. Shrugged. "Owh, my poor head. I feel...dizzy. So dizzy. Don't know...might even trip in the rain. Get a concussion..." Another meek yet daring shrug. "So inconvenient, no?"
"Maybe ye need to go the hospital, lass - Umpf!"
You shut Johnny up with a backward punch to the groin, attention never wavering from Ghost.
There was a soft inquisitive sound, an arch of your brow, before he conceded with a weary blink of his eyes. You had to love the way his lashes fanned every time he did that. Long, thick, and softly curled, they might just make a girl jealous.
Internally, you performed a victory dance. Externally, you outstretched an arm.
His killer biceps bulged around your frame, tugging you close, as he lifted you off your feet. When you corded your arm around his neck and nestled your face on his pec, lashes batting up at him, Ghost looked like he was near to dropping you on your arse and dragging you by your heels instead.
"Don't get used to it, poppy," he grated low.
You wore a look of mock-surprise. "Never."
Gaze too slow to leave your face he spoke to Johnny next, "I'll meet you at the base." He strode past, strong legs falling into pace. "Don't be late. And for fuck's sake, Johnny, get some rest."
Johnny grinned, the act slightly laced with pain due to your earlier assault. "Ye got it, Lt." To you, he gave you a proud thumb's up.
Over Ghost's shoulder, you blew him a kiss and mouthed happy birthday, and I love you big time, you sucker.
When the bar door closed behind you, you pointed out to Simon that he'd forgotten your umbrella and proton pack.
For the umbrella, he said the rain might help sober you up. As for your proton pack, he didn't even bother providing an answer as he took down the street, all pleased with himself as rain mercilessly pelted your face.
When lightning crackled and thunder roared overhead, you thought you felt his arms slightly draw you closer, a bit nearer, but dismissed it, blaming it instead on your active imagination and stupor.
.
What the bloody hell was he doing, Ghost questioned, standing in your open kitchen and preparing tea for two.
Steam curdled up, obscuring his masked face as he poured green tea into two cups. Clasping the handles, he turned from the counter to place them on the marbled island.
Your abode was a spacious loft with four large windows peering out into the bustling city, the London Eye and the River Thames a distant view, with a ceiling that rose six meters high.
Before him was a sitting area with a comfortable couch, plush armchairs and a TV stand. Fully-stacked bookshelves flanked either side while pots of myriad flowers and wild ferns decorated the space.
A dining table perched to his left, a family photo and Mesopotamian antiques lining the dark cherry wood surface in display. He spotted Johnny in the frame, younger than he's ever seen him, dimples deep in a cheery smile, and he spotted you, hanging onto his shoulders with an eye-crinkling laugh of your own, also young and exuding innocence.
To his far right was your bed, propped against the wall and neatly made, accompanied by nightstands and a reading lamp. To its left was the entrance, separated by a narrow wall of stained glass depicting two mermaids frolicking about. By that, he clearly meant the large cock sprouting from the merman's groin and gripped by the mermaid's slender fingers, their tails entwining as deeply as their tongues, their bodies writhing in unabashed pleasure. It was beautiful, no doubt, made to come alive in colors coral blue, golden, and violet, but Ghost also knew it was custom made.
Anyone would've missed the unorthodox tableau at first glance, but he wasn't anyone.
You had wild fantasies, it appeared, and he wanted to bash his skull in for taking interest in that.
Just like he wanted to bash the mug of green tea in his hand because he couldn't will his feet to walk away.
Granted, you'd asked he stay, at least for a little while, to thank him for taking care of your wound, and sprinting to your bathroom thereafter for a quick shower.
It's been ten minutes now, and Ghost should've been long gone. He couldn't be here. He didn't do one-night stands. He had a number for that, a special visitor, that took care of his needs without him ever needing to undress. Left just as wordlessly when the deed was done. No unnecessary pillow talks, goodbye notes, or call me laters. No strings attached, just as Ghost preferred it.
But you...
The way you wanted him, the way you watched him, eyes growing dark and heavy with desire, it made him realize he'd never been pursued that ardently. Sure, he had instances where he attracted certain women his direction - any bloke with a look like his warranted that - but a simple glower from him had them scurrying off just as quick.
He should be scaring you off too, not exciting you.
Not making you out to be an intoxication he was uncharacteristically impatient to divulge in.
Hell, with his given background and formidable expertise, no one even dared to hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. When he talked, everyone shut up. His reputation preceded him. Yet you... Bloody hell, you not only held your ground, but also eye-fucked him every chance you got.
Ghost didn't quite compute; you were a perfect stranger to him, someone he met but once, and yet you had a face that could make a man happily dream into an early death.
God, there was something about you that made his palms itch for a touch...itch to wrap that hair of yours around his fist, lift his mask, and descend for a proper feeding. A sick, twisted part of Ghost perhaps wanted to see how good you could get him to pillow talk.
It was a passing thought, but chills abraded his forearms. The challenge in it gave him a heated rush of red.
What the hell was the matter with him? he questioned for the umpteenth time.
He shouldn't be wanting such nonsense.
He shouldn't be caring for it either.
He should walk away now. But...
The moment he chose to act, turning, the exit his target, the shower stopped running. The naked pad of footsteps resounded. A towel flapped open. More footsteps, and then -
You emerged from the bathroom, all robed and clean, leaving steam in your wake. It looked like you'd just walked out of a dream, cherub cheeks flushed pink and skin dewy, almost satiny, and - fuck. He internally groaned. He wanted to bite.
What in nine hells? He popped his jaw in frustration.
Upon spotting him, excitement flashed in your eyes, and you nearly skipped over.
"You stayed," you breathily commented, the towel you were using to dry your hair tossed atop the dining table. Traces of vanilla and coconut saturated the air, infiltrating his mask, and his mouth involuntarily watered.
He needed to call that special number tonight, he decreed, or else he wouldn't survive the coming days. Days? More like hour. Keep it together, soldier.
Such unpalatable delight seeped from you, he slowly shook his head.
If only you knew he sewed another man's skull on his mask, beaten to a pulp before stripped clean of all tissue. A constant reminder of what he’d lost. Who he'd lost. If only you knew he viewed the outside world from the eyes of a dead man. If only you knew poison swam in his veins, immortalizing the infectious ichor that damned any soul to near him. Touch him. You would flee the other direction.
You would curse at him, curse him, see him for what he truly was.
A rotting corpse unleashed to the world to haunt. To terrorize.
Would you crave him then, knowing those very hands you wanted wrapped around you had ended lives, and most not so humanely?
He wasn't capable of holding you without hurting you.
Anything good and decent in him had long ago been buried away, and in their stead festered rancid tendencies that worked his mind and body tireless.
Nothing survived him, and you would be no different.
Even tonight, his somber mood a result of the death toll that ripped through his heart, deadened as it was, when he heard - witnessed - the scream of little children blown to pieces by a human bomber he was meant to stop, was no coincidence.
His main objective was to retrieve classified documents, but it had come at a cost when the enemy understood they were compromised.
He had done a bloody good job clearing the entire building, knives soaked crimson, fists even more so, but he'd forgone the basement, a bunker where bombers kept their own hostage. It was a gruesome tactic the enemy utilized to throw their foes off balance. He had a moment's decision before the bomber pressed the button - shoot him with the off-chance of saving the children, get obliterated to pieces and fail the mission, or succeed.
It was either them or the classified intel. He’d ducked for cover.
Choices have consequences, he remembered telling Johnny once, and, fuck, if he didn't hate himself for his.
He tasted the sulfur, the clogging dust saturated with human remains, in the back of his throat. He couldn't wipe those deaths from his eyes no matter how many times he bathed, scrubbed, scraped.
So, no matter you being a perfect stranger, feeding him look upon look of insatiable hunger any man would gladly sacrifice a limb for, he couldn't go down that road.
Especially when you meant so much to Johnny, his brother-in-arms, a man with a heart of gold that reminded Simon of his own. He couldn't do that to him, to you. Christ, he couldn't walk through fire again.
He wouldn't survive it.
And - bollocks, he nearly chuckled - he never sounded more miserable. It didn't matter. He'd be dodging a bullet with you, all right. All his physical needs, he could deal with them like a grown man in the confines of his own four walls.
Besides, he was a goddamn mess tonight, his feelings and thoughts blown asunder. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and was in desperate need of some shut-eye.
"You look like you've just seen a ghost," your lilting voice broke through his thoughts. He blinked down at you. You shrugged, a small smile forming. "Funny how that works, don't you think?"
Maybe he should give you a taste of what it meant to know Simon Riley. Maybe then, and only then, would you understand the favor he'd been extending you.
Silently, he pushed the steaming cup of green tea your way.
A soft gasp. "A man after my own heart." Your fingers came around the mug, hugging it close to your chest and taking a cautious sip. "Mmm. Just what I needed."
"You feelin' better?" Christ, he might as well have spat out shards of glass with how rough he'd sounded.
You licked your lips, pink tongue darting out. "Yeah. Much," you whispered. "Thanks."
Your lips enclosed around the rim again, plump, red and eager. Red as poppies. He imagined them closing around something else, something harder, hotter, sweetened by your spit.
His muscles stiffened, the itch flaming his palms. Palms he then curled into tight fists - before releasing.
He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Right, then, you get that rest, poppy."
He turned on his heel, the exit never appearing more distant as he marched to it. At the end of the island, he'd left the box of med kit and his glove, and he reached for the latter as he bypassed.
A blur of white and he was staring down at your delicate features again.
"Wait, wait, you can't just leave. And you definitely can't take this." You snatched the glove from his grasp and quickly hid it behind your back. You pursed your lips at his quiet glower. "Because I'll, uh, wash it for you. More polite that way."
Bollocks. You meant to keep what was his, you wily little thing. He could easily wrestle it out of your hands, but he didn't want to give you more incentive to put your hands on him. Or, worse yet, his on you.
"You got somethin' you wanna say?" he roughed out.
"Only that I want to thank you. Properly."
"Properly thanked. Now out of my way."
He meant to sidestep but you halted him with a soft, warm palm on his chest. His heart, for the briefest second, quickened at the gesture. Didn't need incentive at all, it seemed.
You struggled for purchase. "Well - Well, what about your tea?"
"I'll live, poppy."
Another step, another pressing of your hand against his body. More adamantly this time.
Bloody hell, such a tiny thing, you were, but he'd never encountered a bigger hindrance. Especially when he was oh, so close to the exit. He was positive you were going to lock your door and swallow the key if he did not indulge you a moment's courtesy.
His abrasive exhale of defeat finally brought your palm down from his chest, and he - what? Wanted to beat your white-bricked walls in at the loss of contact? Absolutely not - couldn't have felt better.
His lids dropped, and his look of defiance rivaled yours. For a second too intense for his liking, both of you were stuck in a battle of wills.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four se -
Christ. That pulled a reaction from him, primal and almost aggressive. The kind that had the blood in his veins rushing hot and wild.
His low, grumbling voice, a contrast to the sudden, violent need unfurling in his lower abdomen, vibrated the still air between you.
"Properly thank me how?"
Of all the answers he could've expected, with how your teeth worried your lower lip, nibbling at the fleshly petal, or how your lashes fluttered, somehow nervous, or even with how your cheeks dusted pink in evident arousal, that is, a meek, "Biscuits?" was definitely not it.
His head jerked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Biscuits?"
He fuckin' loved biscuits.
"Yes. With tea?"
Hell, he loved that more.
He let your words sit for a while. Then, "You got any ginger nuts there, poppy?"
A bashful smile revealed a row of straight, white teeth. He wanted to scrape his own against them, his tongue coaxing in to steal a little taste of you. At the heady image, he tensed.
Growled.
You swallowed. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I've got them. Come on, then, I'll share my favorites with you."
In under five minutes, you had the Ghost sprawled atop your bed goddamn picnicking with a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in hand.
Having made away with his leather jacket, he leaned back into a heap of pillows you'd placed for him, and - oh, that felt good - his muscles hissed in pleasure at having finally relaxed.
He grunted, his lids threatening to drift shut. Your bed was warm, soft, and smelled of wild lilacs - all qualities Ghost was estranged to in the field, which happened to dominate the better part of his life.
"You'll love this," you said from your spot next to him. He'd momentarily slacked off, and your voice brought him back from the abating garden of flowers he was surrendering himself to.
He breathed in deep, pulling focus.
Having dimmed the lights to your loft, you wiggled to a comfortable position and succumbed to your own nest of pillows.
You smelled like a peachy sunset over a beach of glistening sands, and if he touched you, you'd feel even better.
And now he was turning into a bloody poet.
If 141 ever saw him like this, Ghost would never live it down.
He balanced his plate of biscuits and mug of tea on his lap, but when you pressed your shoulder to his, he nearly spilled the hot liquid over his pants.
It also chased the sleep from his burning lids, and, quietly, he suffered your presence.
His body seared where you touched him, but he made no show of it.
You outstretched your lithe legs, soft and enticing, over the bed, and crossed them at the ankles. At the movement, your white robe parted in the seams, revealing the supple flesh of your thigh, but you made no move to cover it. You simply lay there, still delectable with a kind of sweetness Ghost wanted to languidly lap at with his tongue.
So much so that the muscle now ached in his mouth.
He swore under his breath, his own legs shifting to distance his body from you. His booted feet, he dangled at the edge of the bed. He wasn't that barbaric.
"I thought you were the patient one," you chided, misreading his mood. In your fingers, you clutched some kind of a remote. It possessed two buttons. "Watch this."
You pressed the green one.
A soft whine reverberated from above, and then a portion of the sloped ceiling slid up to, inch by inch, reveal the thundering clouds in the sky.
Not many things had the power to surprise Ghost, but this... Well, suffice it to say, his jaw slightly slacked open.
Rain dazedly pelted the glassed frame, the droplets snaking down in rivulets, and distant strikes of lightning illuminated the cloudy world above, and in consequence, the dark room.
You dreamily sighed, sinking further into your pillows. You reached for the biscuits on his thighs.
Simon hadn't realized he'd placed them too close to his groin, and thought you went in for a different feeding, body abruptly tensing.
The faintest drop of your hand's weight on him had his throat contracting.
Subtly, he had the plate relocated to his abdomen. Much better.
"I had it installed when I moved in. It helps me sleep better at night. Oh, especially in such nights." You hummed out a chuckle and pointed. "Look at that cloud. Kind of looks like the head of a chihuahua, don't you think?"
Lightning crackled. The sky brightened in hues murky gray and electric blue - before plummeting into darkness.
He followed your finger, and released a contemplative sound. It was all he offered, but it seemed to be enough for you.
There was something about the sound of rain and your soft breathing that had Simon lulled to a cozy quiet. Snugged by the pillows, his weight sank deeper into the mattress, and he thought he was in a haven of your making.
This could put him dead out if it weren't for the tempting graze of your shoulder against his, forcing him awake ever time his lashes sluggishly fluttered shut.
You sipped your tea and reached for another biscuit.
Slowly, he lifted his own mask 'til his nose and watched, warily, if you'd sneak a peek. You did no such thing.
Ignoring the twitch in his brows, he bit into the biscuits. The tea smoothed them down his throat, and the warm nourishment felt good in his stomach.
All the while, you talked about your sweets and pastries, the corner shop you bought them from, and how it was your favorite with it having opened almost eighty years ago. And how he also should visit it once he gets the chance.
You finished your tea and placed the mug on your side of the nightstand. Brushing the crumbs from your fingers, you plopped back down, head on your pillows this time.
You still did not look at him.
Sober you seemed to have a few bit reservations than wasted you, it appeared, faintest traces of amusement pulling at the corners of his revealed lips.
Downing the rest of his tea, he put away the empty plate and mug to his side of the nightstand. With that, he masked his lips anew.
In the silence, the only sound the pouring rain, he dwelled in the dark with you.
Then, so softly, you said his name.
"Simon."
His breath hitched dead center in his chest. His eyes arrowed down at your lying figure.
You continued to look away, spiky lashes fanning delicate cheekbones.
"You can stay the night, if you want," you made out, swallowing tentatively and moistening your lips. With a tiny jump, you turned over - and finally tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. You cupped the underside of your cheek. "We don't have to do anything. Not that you - Not that you said you wanted to. I'm sorry. I only mean, it's late...and you must be tired." Then, oh, so gently, "Heard you had a long night, too."
Ghost remained silent for the duration of your speech, and at the last sentence, quirked a brow up. "Yeah? And who told you that?"
"Johnny," you murmured.
"Johnny," he echoed. A low crackling sound sizzled in his chest, but it dwindled out before ever reaching his throat. "You discuss me with Johnny, do ya now, poppy?"
Your eyes dropped from his masked face, and your fingers drew small circles into the pillow next to his.
"Sometimes, I do, yes." So effortlessly admitted. Fuck. "It was merely an evaluation of your person, is all. I could see it too. Your eyes are red. Bit groggy too."
He rasped out a low chuckle, if it could be called that, seeing as some sounds tended to get lost in the wide expanse of his chest. "That it, eh?"
A small smile crinkled the corner of your eye, and if he had a heart, he might've gone as far as to call you a darling right then and there.
You shrugged. "Yeah."
He ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth. Simon knew it was best he end the conversation now, rise from your bed, and exit your apartment. Your life. He got his proper thanks, after all.
But, like a damned fool he could only blame on his exhausted state, he stayed put - and probed further. "What else you bothered Johnny about me, mm?"
You licked your lips again, the tip of that tempestuous pink muscle wetting the seam, and he bit back a wanting grunt.
He'd never been more arrested by a mundane act.
Focus, soldier.
His eyes trailed the gentle curve of your jawline...and down your slender neck.
No, not there, you daft geezer. Away.
"Your mask," your tentative voice filled the room.
"What's wrong with it?"
Your soft hair rustled against the sheets as you shook your head. "Nothing. It's merely got something honest about it, is all. As paradoxical as that may seem, I realize now. It's pleasant."
Pleasant? That's a new one.
But he couldn't have you building false notions about him like that. Maybe it was time he warned you away for good.
"I have more blood on my hands than the one running in your veins, poppy. There is nothing honest about me," he coldly provided.
"Well, I think you're wrong."
Bloody hell, what would it take to dislodge you?
You moved, body climbing up the pillows until your head rested close to his shoulder. And then a little bit more, until you leveled with his face.
The sheer heat emanating from your skin traveled past his clothes, seeping into his pores.
Yeah, you were a darlin', all right. A damn appetizing one, at that.
You shifted slightly, weight on your left hip and bared legs so dangerously close to his.
Through the thick rim of your lashes, you regarded him. "Ghost," you said, and he nearly corrected you. "Would you like to know what else I discuss with Johnny?"
A burning sensation infiltrated his cheek, and he realized you were tracing your fingertips over his masked features. Carefully, cautiously, so as to not chase him away.
"For one, those pretty eyes of yours," you hummed lowly. On cue, you gently trailed a finger down his brow bone.
Heat speared his cheeks at that, and he was grateful for the coverage. Simon Riley, blushing. His lashes fluttered a bit, but other than that, you remained clueless as to his expression.
"And they change color every time I look upon you. Sometimes blue, sometimes silver, other times brown, like sweet caramel, and my favorite, pitch black. How do you do that?"
You studied him enough to have a favorite? At that revelation, his throat tightened.
Wordless, he performed a small, almost undiscernible, shrug, the pillows underneath shifting.
A slow, deep smile curved your cheeks. "You should let me study them in broad daylight. I'm sure I'll solve the mystery in no time." With a cheeky air, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.
Quietly, he watched your face, coal-dark eyes intent and focused, the only sounds from him his steady breathing.
"God, they're so black." Tenderly, you ran your knuckles across his jawline, angled your head, and then softly guided his face closer to yours.
Once, someone had told him he had no present, past, or future, and he'd told them that he'd see them in hell. Now, Ghost realized hell was here, in the breath of a space between you, where you sat so close to him, and yet he could not close it.
"None of that, poppy." He nudged your hold off.
Disappointment colored your eyes, drooped your shoulders, and brought those pearl-white teeth to gnaw at your fleshly lower lip. And with so much bite, he spotted teeth marks form.
"Easy there," he murmured, fingers acting without his explicit permission and pinching your chin.
At that, the discouragement washed away and your eyes clouded with something dark and promising, putting the storm outside to shame. There you went again with that look. If his career in the Special Forces hadn't driven him mad, this surely would.
Understanding that he shouldn't have touched you, he made to move away, but your fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him close - and sliding your body closer.
The second your hip meshed against his, his muscles seized up, locking tight upon his bones.
God, you were hot against him. Burning up.
Simon nearly bolted from the bed when he felt your legs entangle with his, the blistering tension having unwittingly made away with much of his resolve and rendering him stimulated in places he'd rather not feel stimulated in.
Your toes teased his legs, rubbing up against the coarse material of his pants. Then, they glided over them, finding purchase in his inner calves - and massaging. Up, up, they traveled, then dooown they dropped, creating a spine-tingling friction.
Ghost grunted, shoulders bunching before undulating. He straightened a bit. Good God. He was suddenly too aware of his own body heating up and all his intimate areas. All too aware of his blood pumping and where it was rushing.
"You better stop that before you get hurt, yeah, darlin'?" he grated past his teeth.
You sighed, no doubt relishing in his deteriorating strength. "A little pain never hurt nobody. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"
As you said that, you wedged your leg more firmly between his, parting them, and slid your knee upward to lightly grind it against his sensitive groin.
Christ. He grunted with less control now, the feeling slowly slipping through his fingers.
You shouldn't be using that kind of language with him. Shouldn't be talking in such a tone. Because addiction was another sin he didn't mind adding to the list.
His body sweltered from the inside and his heartbeat increased, beating in his ears. He had to leave.
Jerking slightly at another shiver inducing motion, he pushed at your leg.
A final, "No, poppy," scraped past his throat.
"Simon," you tugged at his wrist, voice hoarsely breaking at the end and so desperately, it nearly unmanned him, "I - I'm on fire. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Need... I need you. I can't stop. I don't know why I can't stop. I just - God, I've been needing you for so long now. Every night, I dream of you, do you know that? Every night. Please, please...I'm going insane. I'm - "
That did it.
With a ferocious snarl that was more animal than man, his arm shot forward, calloused fingers latching onto your cheeks and unchivalrously burying your head in your pillows with the abrupt maneuver of his body over yours.
His weight suffocated you into the mattress.
You gasped, eyes gaping wide in alarm.
His ire flared, his desire, even more so.
"Shut the fuck up," Ghost gritted in your face, now panting hot and fast. "Shut your fuckin' mouth now, poppy. Fuck. You ever heed a warning? You ever heard of using your own goddamn fingers? You ever use that pretty little head of yours? Bloody fucking hell, darlin'. Bloody. Fucking. Hell."
You squirmed under him, releasing small, breathless sounds.
The image of you rendered so helpless roused the most primal parts of him and his cock painfully hardened, straining against the strap of his pants.
It was blooming into an ache his hands alone wouldn't be able to assuage. Goddamit.
Your eyes searched his, arraying back and forth, attempting to grasp what just occurred within the span of a blink.
Then, they narrowed, pretty lashes fusing. "I have," you ground out, baring your teeth at him. "I do. But they're never enough." Fuck, you were talking about your fingers. You almost pouted insufferably. "Never what I want. Need. Crave."
"And I am?" he growled out, baring his own teeth. You seemed to like the intensity he exuded, even heatedly roamed your eyes over his masked lips, expression devoid of all fear.
You nodded eagerly.
Yes.
He cursed under his breath.
Lowly, lethally, "How hard did you hit that head of yours, mm?"
You bit your lips to suppress a moan, "Hard enough to get you in my bed."
"That mouth of yours is goin' to get you in trouble, poppy."
You keened at the warning. "Promise?"
At that, he couldn't will himself away even if he wanted to. Not even all the soldiers in his team combined could drag him away when you stared up at him so wantonly, so desperately, silently begging to make away with the terrible ache that shadowed over your every need.
So be it. You would learn your lesson.
"Open your legs," he growled - and slipped his hand underneath your robe.
an: i made it into 3 parts bcs, well, i just had too much fun writing ghost suffering in his self-imposed ✨ agonies ✨
suffice it to say, the next part will be pure filth. pinkie swear this time. strap your seatbelts, girlies, we’re going to the horniest, dirtiest bangtown.
on another note, if anyone is willing to chat/discuss fics relating to cod or any other fandom of their liking, I’ve created a new discord server and pinned it on my blog; all are more than welcome to join ✨
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#cod#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#john price#task force 141#Simon riley smut#smut#slow burn#slow romance#mutual pining#paranormal#paranormal part 2#Wolkoshka writes#when Simon’s so mean and intense i gush#uh i meant blush
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Thought about the concept of me either having children or not ever having children and both options make me want to cry
#I’m blaming this on hormones and my mother (what else is new)#she’s been trying to get me to apply to work at the ymca for kids summer programs and to volunteer at a local kids hang out spot and like#no thank you#I’m always told I’m good with kids and they naturally like me but also I am simply constinalty anxious around children and fold to their#every whim most of the time so like yeah of course they like me#but like idk. the idea of being anything like either of my parents makes my stomach hurt but the idea of my life ending with me kind of#freaks me out. but like I would 100% try my best and still be an asshole and the world doesn’t need another kid with a shitty parent who#doesn’t even know how they survived long enough to have kids#thinking about what I put my parents thru vs thinking about my own feelings and how my parents affected me and somehow I still feel worse#for my parents who would do the shitty stuff#me being like omg my mental heath problems really fucked with my parents :(( when I was literally like trying to die daily for YEARS#like hello!!! girl you are scarred by ur own mind and your parents and your brother and everything ever and you want to bring life into this#world you literally have yet to truly step up and try to be a person at all and you’re gonna be 20 in a year#me thinking I’m a failure bc I’m channeling my mother in my head#i literally be out here thinking about how I’m going to be a shitty parent if I ever have kids while still sleeping under my mothers roof#what is wrong with me#high shower thoughts really went he remember that person you don’t like anymore ti hey remebrr that you’re unlikeable and unloveable and#should never have any family of your own cause you’ll find a way to fuck it up haha yeah thanks brain#anyways. going to get so so high and then maybe take my meds before I go to bed bc I kind of fell off from taking them and I need to bc it#is obviously fucking with my headdddd#but when I take them I almost feel more anxious about my trip bc I’m worried about it going right but when I don’t take them I’m just like#vibing and I know I’ll be willing to roll with the punches better#but also I need to take them bc the idea of not being able to be out of my mind high all day every day for like two weeks is literally#terrifying to me#like what you expect me ti be alone with my brain in a car in the middle of no where and not fall asleep at the wheel or think about killing#myself ??!!?!?!? who do you think I am.#okay yeah going to take my meds. then start the living end. then get really high and maybe fall asleep halfway thru the movie#I am mentally ill 😭👍
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excerpt from the one where Tim Drake goes to an alternate reality and decides to get his other self laid via the local Kon's bisexual awakening:
"Hey, remember when you saved my life earlier?" Tim asks.
"Yeah, kinda," Kon replies in amusement. "Seeing as it was about two point five seconds after you rigged the evil alien robot army to self-destruct and helped save our entire literal reality's life, so I was definitely paying attention."
"Flatterer," Tim says with a smirk even as he waves him off. The self-destruct function wasn't even that hard to hack, comparatively. That time he'd downloaded Lex Luthor's active IP files from his personal office while the asshole had been on his damn computer–now that'd been tricky. Interdimensional alien invaders barely compare. And the Brainiac incident still gives him stress migraines when he thinks about it for too long.
Metropolis sucks and Tim frankly has no idea how his own Kon can stand the place.
But like, getting off-topic here.
"Well, I was gonna say you should let me pay you back for that," he continues. "But since you bring it up I'll also accept a show of gratitude on behalf of your reality, whichever gets you off harder.”
Kon laughs, because he is apparently adorable enough to have assumed that was a joke. Precious little moron, Tim thinks fondly.
"You know, you're a lot less uptight than our version of you is," Kon says, grinning down at Tim before flashing Tim's other self a smirk. "No offense, Rob. Dude's clearly just doing more yoga than you or something. Maybe drinking more tea? Taking the occasional bubble bath?"
"Silly me, if only I'd invested in more bath bombs in my life," Tim's other self says dryly.
"It's probably my sex life, actually," Tim himself puts in with an easy shrug. Turns out when you stop pretending you don't have a ridiculously high libido and actually just indulge the thing, a lot of life's little annoyances become a lot easier to handle. Go figure. "Plus my boyfriend Bernard is really great, just his entire existence does wonders for my mood in general and he also makes me eat real food on occasion and monitors my caffeine intake much more reliably than I'm capable of doing on my own. The man is a living antidepressant and I don't even mean that in a fucked-up way, he's just that good."
"Boyfriend?" Kon blinks at him, then puts on another grin. It takes, Tim cannot help but notice, exactly two beats longer than his real grin would've. "Ohhhhh, okay, so the problem is just that you're not getting laid hard enough?"
"It is not," Tim's other self says dubiously, watching Kon just a little bit warily and obviously worried about his potential reaction to the word "boyfriend". Well, Tim never claimed to be emotionally intelligent about Kon, so no surprise his other self is also a dumbass there.
"It kinda is, actually," he tells his other self. "I was tracking my cortisol levels the last time I went on a solo away mission and let's just say they were . . . concerning? Like really concerning. Like by the time I got back I was kiiiiind of convinced I was going to need to go on anti-anxiety meds again. But then I jumped my Kon in the Titans Tower med bay instead and that pretty much solved the problem."
Kon . . . pauses, sort of. Tilts his head. Tim's other self looks a lot warier.
"'Jumped'," Kon repeats carefully. "Like . . . what, you dragged him to the gym to spar or something?"
"Like I blew his back out so hard that when he came his TTK fritzed out and disassembled my recovery bed," Tim clarifies helpfully. "It really helped with the cortisol levels issue."
Kon blinks. Tim's other self looks pained, but also desperately envious. Tim would also be desperately envious if their situations were reversed and so does not blame him for said envy in the slightest.
"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" Kon says after a moment, sounding a little odd in a very telling way. Or at least very telling to Tim, anyway.
As is the way that he's not looking at Tim's other self at all anymore.
"Open relationship," Tim says. "Also Bernard thinks you're stupidly hot and really likes hearing about the kind of stuff you let me do to you. I've actually been debating inviting you over for his birthday so he can watch us live for once but I haven't asked you yet."
"What, so your Kon is the side chick?" Kon jokes, awkwardly putting on another just barely belated grin.
"More like my kept boy, functionally speaking, but he's having a 'weird about commitment' phase right now so I've just been making a lot of sugar baby jokes to soften him up," Tim replies with a shrug. It's only sort of been working, but it has been working, and he's willing to take his time on it. It's not fair to expect Kon to only be easy, after all. "Long-term goal is to marry Bernard and ideally get Kon to 'live-in boyfriend' status somewhere in there, but that would also require him not being weird about commitment and also figuring out how well he and Bernard get along in the same space, so we'll just have to see how that one goes."
"Uh," Kon says. "Why?"
"Because you are incredibly important to me and also look like a very horny Renaissance sculptor made you out of calacatta marble," Tim tells him matter-of-factly, gesturing meaningfully at him. "Frankly it's criminal that you ever put clothes on."
#timkon#tim drake#dc robin#kon el#conner kent#superboy#rinfic#wip: interdimensional whoring for timkon#long post#somehow I still haven't written any sex scenes for this fic#just a lot of Tim terrorizing his alternate self and flustering alternate Kon#'Tim'-orizing his alternate self?
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Hiiii, could you possibly do a Miguel O'Hara smut with some ✨BRAT✨taming in it ( if your comfortable with it ) the plot is up to you 🫶🏾😁
Brats Sometimes Need Taming: Miguel O’Hara x Reader
Prompt: You get hit in the face with sex pollen. Honestly it starts out that way but really it’s just luck because Miguel fucks you how you like. Hot heavy, intense.
Warning: Dudes this is straight up filth. There’s brat taming(main course), oral (F and M), edging, light very light bondage, choking maybe, pleasure Dom if you squint hard enough. Oh and Creampie
Iiiii hope this is up to your standards! This is my first smut so let me know if this is good enough to write more haha. Anyways I hope you enjoy it Anon and anyone else who reads it!
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Miguel had ordered the team to complete a task in another dimension that included all of you and himself. He would lead the group into a destroyed building many stories high. The objective was to stop a rather ugly looking creature from spewing out pollutants from its body. The creature wasn’t alone. There were many of them each with a different pollutant. They had already demolished half of the city you were in. It wasn’t until the end of the battle when you fought one particular monster at the top of the building while Miguel fought at the bottom. You were striked down; then you were falling off a nearby metal support beam. A cloud of colored pollutants floated around you and in the air. It even fell gracefully with you, but you were rendered unconscious. Miguel waited for you to use your webs to save yourself but you didn’t. As if time slowed down Miguel threw himself in your direction. Using his webs he flung himself under you capturing you in time before you could go no further and no closer to the ground. You both rolled on the ground of the next level of the building. The rest of the team took care of the creature while Miguel tended to you.
Your head lulled to the side, Miguel checked your vitals frantically. You were in fact alright but something was off. Your breathing becomes faster. He could feel the heat of your skin rise instead of cooling down, your skin began to sweat. Miguel scooped you up in his arms and opened a portal back to headquarters taking straight to the med bay. Still rendered unconscious as he marched through, he yelled at everyone to leave except for the doctor. He demanded answers and a way to save you. He had know idea what that pollutant was that struck you. He was worried that you might implode on yourself. As a bit morbid as that sounds but you burned to the touch and you were sweating profusely. The doctor could offer him no information without taking tests. Miguel threw items on the floor frustrated with himself for letting you battle that creature alone. But of course the doctor was right he needed to know what was wrong. Miguel had stripped your mask off so that you could breathe better. The doctor was gone and the privacy stayed between you both.
Miguel stared at your beautiful face, caressing your hot skin, by now he had removed his own gloves. His bare skin on yours was enough to wake you. Just as the doctor arrived your whining had begun. Doctor had explained to Miguel that you were infected with a type of substance that exposed you to a sexual chemical. It ultimately triggers you into a sexual frenzy. The doctor had no idea how long it would take for it to be satiated. As the doctor continued he explained that he needed time to figure out its formula. He had no idea if this process could be handled by itself if you waited it out or if you needed an antidote. During that conversation You were already eyeing Miguel’s massive figure. The way he leaned over the side of the bed his elbows resting on the mattress as he spoke with the doctor. His muscles stretched all the way down to his back, his wide frame making you want to leave marks on his skin if he’d let you. His hair looked soft to the touch you so badly wanted to twist your hands in his hair. To watch as his head dipped between your thighs. You moaned at the thought reaching for Miguel as you lifted yourself up kissing along his back and onto his shoulder.
The doctor cleared his throat and Miguel turned his head to look at you. You looked zoned out, your mind hazy and else were, and you smelt like arousal. Miguel firmly pried off your hands. Don’t get him wrong he loves to relish in the moment and be present as he watches you squirm, and moan under him. Right now though, you were sharing sounds that he wanted no one to hear but him You were kissing his body as if it were just the two of you in the room, again those were not for the doctor to witness. Miguel gave you a look that held the meaning of. Knock it off. Miguel had moved slightly away from you so that he could focus on what the doctor was saying. It wasn’t until you moved toward Miguel again; you were pulling on his suit nipping at his clothes skin on his back. He could hear your quiet hum. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the doctor who tried his hardest not to pay attention to your actions but failed.
The doctor cleared his throat to ask if he should leave when Miguel’s stone filled expression became grave and dark. He looked pissed to be quite honest. Miguel becoming irritated by your needy behavior he turns quickly to face you and with just one hand both wrists pinned to your chest. He pushed you back down on the bed pinning you there. Your breathing became erotic, your head rolled to the side on the pillow, your legs propped up on the bed you were about to rut into the air when Miguel slammed another hand down on your hips. You were beyond turned on and burning with desire.
“ You need to wait” he warned you.
“ Miguel I-I can’t. Let’s go home!” you whined. Your body melting and folding under his touch, he was driving you insane. You just needed to feel him. He didn’t even need to do anything. Miguel rolled his eyes at you before looking at the doctor. His hands stayed where they were holding you down. He continued to listen to the doctor, completely deciding to ignore you. To be honest the doctor was the furthest thing from your mind. You could’ve sworn he wasn’t even really there. Which he only distracted you for a minute before your eyes landed back on Miguel. Oh Miguel. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together hoping that maybe it would ease the burning need but it doesn’t.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He side eyes you before heaving a sigh of his own, with a few curses. Miguel had told the Doctor to keep doing his research and look for an antidote in case you continue with this behavior. Miguel had reached for you in the hopes of picking you up bridal style but you managed to already wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his hips. Thankfully the doctor couldn’t see you, as you bit into Miguel’s ear lobe. You didn’t bite hard but you pulled on it slightly before kissing it. You could feel his clothed erection growing. It made you that much more excited. Your insides scream for him, yearning to be cock drunk and filled to the brim.
Miguel growled in your ear as he whispered “ You’re being a brat.” Miguel wasted no time as he jumped out the med bay window swinging his way back to your shared apartment. He refused to risk anyone else witnessing you in this state of mind. The doctor seeing it was enough for him. As soon as you landed in the apartment Miguel had stripped you of your suit. You had lost your balance in the same process but not before he webbed your hands together. You fell towards the floor not exactly hitting it but instead you were pulled back into his hard body. Miguel lifted a hand and gripped your jaw firmly planting a much wanted and much needed heated kiss. Your lips, tongue and teeth fought for dominance. Miguel instantly shut down the thought as he pulled away abruptly. You chased after his lips only for him to move back once again
You whined again. “ Miguel you’re being mean” you tried to wiggle out of the webbing itching to grab Miguel. He shook his head tsking at you.
“ What a shame. Hmm you being all whiny and needy in front of the doc too. You just can’t seem to control yourself” He taunts.
“ Miguel-“ you were about to begin your begging when he turned you around so your back pressed into his front. You were beginning to feel everything ten times worse, the way his tall frame curved into you, the way he was pressed against you. The way his breath fanned across your ear and cheek as his lips grazed your skin. The way his rough hands gripped and touched your body, slowly massaging each part until his hands stopped where you needed him most “Fuck, please, please”
“ Poor Y/N, look at how desperate you are. You want it so bad but you haven’t earned it” he whispers to you. He frees one hand so it slides up in between the valley of your breasts and up to your throat. He only holds it and never squeezes. Without so much of a warning his other hand dips into the place where you needed him most. You were drenched, covered in your own arousal. Miguel’s fingers glided through your sensitive folds. He had no intention of stroking that bundle of nerves or your hole just yet. Your legs buckled slightly and with your hands webbed together you couldn’t reach for Miguel. It didn’t help that he had you pressed to his chest either. His finger runs through your folds barely touching your clit, with each nudge it sends a jolt through your body. His finger inches closer to your own circling around it as he quickly inserts a finger. He leaves it there. He doesn’t move, he waits to see your reaction. He was testing you.
“Miguel you’re being mean” You hiss at him. Your body is too needy with an arousal. Your body rocks against his finger. You moan at the sensation, how good his finger feels down there. How it rubs against those spots you could never reach only Miguel. Miguel oh Miguel. He inserts another finger, adding a much needed stretch. He let you fuck yourself on his fingers. He let you enjoy it for the time being. His fingers pick up the pace, pushing deliciously hard into you hitting everything but that one spot. You began to whine, he may not have been hitting the place you wanted but you were so sensitive that it felt so good. You twist your hands in the webbing to try and break yourself free. You wanted to touch him, to feel him. Miguel had noticed and whatever orgasm you were about to feel vanished. He pulled his fingers out of you leaving you feeling empty. Your legs feeling like jelly you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Miguel with his hand on your throat he leaned down capturing your lips with his. His tongue stroked the inside of your mouth. He pulls away biting your lip with his sharp fangs before devouring your lips.
His hand that was once inserted now rubbed furiously at your clit, your whines, the back into moans. He made quick work with your clit but as your orgasm grew closer he managed to pull away just in time. Edging you every chance he could get. Honestly you wanted to cry, it felt so good and it hurt so bad. “ I told you to wait, didn't I? This is one of your punishments for being a brat-“your hips pressed into his ass rubbing against his clothed cock. He takes his finger from your cunt and shoves them in his mouth. He licks your slick clean from his fingers as he pushes you off him. He pushes you towards the couch not caring if you make it to the bedroom. He makes quick work taking off his suit. His toned body is on display for you. You were practically drooling out the mouth not to mention you were drooling elsewhere. As if you couldn’t get more turned on. Miguel grabbed ahold of your ankles pulling on them so that you neared the edge of the couch. His tall figure looming over you. He smirked as he grabbed your legs and bent them towards your chest. He slowly dropped to the floor on his knees, his own mouth watering. Your breathing picks up as you feel his breath along your hot skin. Miguel turned his head to the side and kissed your inner thighs, then your outer lips, then your folds. Not wasting any time he lapped at your folds licking long strips from your hole to your bundle of nerves. A loud pornographic moan leaves your lips. He shakes his head to the side as he licks, at one point he starts nipping at your folds pulling on them, tugging. Your hips rocked into his face, you so badly wanting to thread your hands in his hair. Your webbed hands stayed near your chest but those waves of hair were calling to you. You watched him as your mouth hung slightly open. Hisses leave your lips when his long tongue enters your hole and his nose nudges your clit. Tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. You wanted to reach your orgasm but the closer you got Miguel would know. He pulled away but not before giving your clit a hard suck and then a smack with his hand making your body jolt at the feeling.
Miguel leaned toward you, capturing your lips again with his. He let you taste yourself on his tongue not before pulling away from you, his hands pinched your little nubs on your breasts twisting and pulling on them. He kneaded them as he gave each one a kiss. Standing up he pushes your legs down grabbing your throat he pulls you forward so your face is in front of his dick. You bit your lip, Miguel removed his hand from your Throat reaching for your hair he held it back in a ponytail for you. His other hand lifts his cock so that its tip slaps your lips. “ Open” he demands. It was long and thick, his tip already covered in precum. You lick his cock tasting him. before you do as he says. He slips his cock into your mouth, he groans the feeling of your warmth around him. He guides your head back and forth, sucking him off. You let him abuse your mouth. You hum on his dick enjoying the taste of him, the vibrations hitting Miguel he moans.
“ My little brat likes that. So desperate for my cock” he pushes you head further on to him the sounds of his wet dick in your mouth turning obscene. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you continue to suck on him. You push back slightly going for his tip again knowing he liked when you did that. You kissed his tip as you opened your mouth letting your tongue lick it. Your lips wrap the edges sucking on it letting your tongue trace his slit. Miguel growled at the feeling and sight of it, your mouth sinked in further stroking him at a slower pace. Honestly you were driving him mad. Your mouth couldn’t fit all the way around him but you took what you could. With your hands still bound together you desperately wanted to break loose. The more you stroked him and the faster his hips snapped into your mouth you knew you were close to getting what you both craved. Though you needed a final push. You took a deep breath through your nose as you pushed him further into your mouth so that your nose hit his hip. You slowly bobbed your head, you changed the pace and movement making it difficult for Miguel to hold on to his release that he saved for later. Miguel pulled you off of his cock glaring at you as he tsks at you.
You stood up so that you were more or less face to chest with him. You wrapped your webbed hands and arms around his neck. Pulling him in your lips, taking his, you pressed your chest into him. As your tongue fights him for dominance. You pull back biting on his lip tugging at it then diving back into him. His hands gripped your back before sliding down and kneading on your ass. The two of you grope each other in a heated back out. In the process however you “sneakily” turned Miguel around so his legs would bump into the couch. He knew what you were doing and before you could even attempt to do anything else he pushed you off of him. You broke the webbings on your hands within mere seconds Miguel had you pinned down on your side on the couch. He turned you so that one leg rested on the couch while the other was held up by his hand. You watched him as you pressed the side of your face into the couch. You were so excited you couldn’t wait for him to get inside you. You began to whine encouraging him to enter you. You were throbbing, needy, hungry for him. He was depriving you as he watched your body beg for his.
“ Someone needs to learn patience.” He tells you as he slowly glides through your extremely wet folds slipping into your tight entrance. You both moan at the feeling, he inches himself further into you so that he bottoms out. Miguel stayed still, he hadn’t thrusted into you yet, making your body feel every curve and inch of his cock. You were beyond overstimulated and extra sensitive you mewled in protest. Then he does. Miguel pulls his cock out all the way before slamming into you hard. You both yell out a curse. He sets a pace, on that hit the one spongy spot inside you. His hips slamming into yours at an intense pace. His large hands holding your thighs open. You reached behind you to place a hand on his wrists holding him. At this point he no longer cared that you got out of your restraints. His cock was starting to kiss the tip of your cervix. Moans flew out of your mouth some lewd, some pornographic, some with all the air leaving your body. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, the smell of sex undeniable.
“ Miguel-“ you moaned his name like a mantra or a prayer that would set you free. The force he was putting into you made your back arch and the breath leave your lungs. Miguel pulled out for a second so that he could turn you over onto your back. As he sat on his knees, he entered back into you ramming into you harder than before. You proppeped yourself up, placing a hand on his stomach as he slammed into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting up and he wasn't going to either. He leaned forward trapping you underneath his body. He locked your hands into your chests as he bounced downward into you. Both of your orgasms were beginning to build up and you could feel the familiar knots build in your stomach.
“ Mig-Im-close-fuuuck”
“ Come on mami, give it to me” he encouraged you as plowed into you profusely. Your orgasm came quicker than you had expected, your come flowing out of you, your body shaking, as the spots filled your vision. Your ears ringing, Miguel hadn’t finished yet he chased after his high still ramming into you. Your body began struggling to keep up. By the look on Miguel’s face he was about to reach his climax and you were about to reach your third or fourth. You weren’t sure how many times he made you come but what you did know was that you were about to do it again.
“ Fuuuck I’m about to come” Miguel’s hips sputtered as his set thrusts ram into you. You reached up caressing his face burning your hands in his hair. Your walls clenched down on him telling him to let go. With a final hard snap of his hips he releases into you a deep moan sounds from his chest. He body slows down riding out his own high before he pulls out of you. Sweat covered both of your skins. Your cream mixed with his as it trickled out of your hole. You prop yourself up on your elbows. Miguel is already eyeing your hole again. His fingers dip inside pushing your mixed back into you. You pushed on Miguel’s chest with your foot to move him away from your overly sensitive body. You were trying to regain your breathing and let your body catch up with your mind. Miguel caught your foot and pulled you towards him.
“ I can’t” you shook your head “ it’s too much”
Miguel’s eyes connected with yours “ You should’ve thought about that before you started acting up like the brat you are.” You could’ve sworn he was the one who got hit with the pollutant instead of you with the way he was acting. You’ve never seen this feral side of him before this was new territory you both were about to explore. You’d be lying to yourself about how incredibly turned on you were again. Round two was definitely underway.
#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderverse#miguel x y/n#miguel smut#miguel o’hara smut#miguel x you#spiderverse smut#x poc reader#x y/n#fanfic#fanfic readers#x you#bipoc writers#poc reader#imagines#x reader#smut
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au Joel eating Doc out as she vents about her day at the hospital watching her slowly forget about it
👁️🫦👁️
OMG Hi Bestie!
This ask was DELICIOUS OMFG and soooo Joel coded. Just so so so so so Lavender AU!Joel coded. I love him so much and I just know he's done exactly this for Doc so many times over the years. Girl works a stressful job, she needs some release, after all.
Anyway, I hope this fits what you're looking for! Thank you so much for reading and for asking for this! Love you!!
Long Day
Joel takes care of you after a hard day at the hospital. A one shot set in the universe of the Lavender No-Outbreak AU.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Lavender AU Female Reader
Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Oral sex (F receiving), unprotected P in V sex. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.
Length: 2.9k
Remind me again why I wanted to be chief of pediatric surgery?
Joel wasn’t surprised to get your text when he took a minute to check his phone while on a job site. You’d been up late the night before, preparing for a presentation to the hospital board to get more funding for your department. Some kind of new equipment that you desperately wanted and gushed about at every opportunity that Joel could not understand at fuck all. The curse of falling for a woman so much smarter than him, he supposed.
Because you’re nothing if not a high achiever, he texted back. What’s going on, Baby?
I hate the bureaucracy of this, you replied. One of my favorite kids came in today, her mom is beside herself, and am I with them? No, I’m walking some asshole through the surgical wing of the peds floor.
“Hey Miller!” One of the site managers called to him. “Got a question for you!”
“One sec!” Joel yelled back before he texted you back again.
Think you can make it home at a reasonable time or are they going to chain you to the desk?
Only thing that would keep me here is the inside of an OR, you wrote back. They’d better deal.
Joel smiled a little at that. Back in your residency years, he’d have resigned himself to not seeing you on days like today. He’d take care of Evie and worry that you weren’t eating enough or pushing yourself too hard or crying in the car from stress before coming inside so you didn’t freak out him or your daughter.
He’d caught you doing that once, the car parked on the street as he walked back from loaning a tool to a neighbor down the road. He was so excited to see you that it took him a moment to realize you were crying, your forehead against the steering wheel, your whole body shaking with it.
He opened the door, making you jump and start trying to dry your your eyes before he could notice.
“Hey now,” he said gently, leaning into the car with his arm propped over the door. “What’s goin’ on, Baby?”
“Nothing,” you sniffed. “Just a really really awful day, I’ll be fine, it’s fine, I’m just not used to it yet…”
Joel frowned.
“Used to what?”
“All of it,” your voice was shaky. “Just all the stress and the exhaustion and I keep getting more attached to patients than I should. I had a kid today who was in a car accident and he looked fine so I was joking with him when doing the initial exam trying to keep him calm and the next thing I know he’s crashing and we couldn’t get him back and it just really fucking sucks sometimes, Joel. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this…”
“Hey,” he gently reached out and cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this. I’m sure of it, never been more sure of anything in my life. Except maybe loving you but that’s an extremely high bar.”
You laughed a wet little laugh and sighed.
“Do you still want to do this?” He asked, frowning slightly. “Because you don’t have to, Baby. Don’t care that you went to med school, you don’t have to be a doctor if it doesn’t make you happy.”
“No, I want it,” you nodded once, more to yourself than anything else. “If I’m strong enough, I want it.”
He took you inside and sent you to go shower, picking up your scrubs off the bathroom floor and putting them in the washer. He set out your favorite swimsuit and made you a frozen margarita before moving the boom box to by the pool and putting on your favorite Beatles album. He grabbed the book from your bedside table and set it next to the margarita just as you came outside, already looking more like yourself.
“Oh Babe, you didn’t have to do all this,” your hand went to your heart and, for a second, Joel was afraid you’d start crying again.
“I know,” he said. “But I wanna take care of my girl. Feeling anything for dinner? I can order Chinese or pizza or make you something?”
“Can I get Mongolian Beef?” You asked, taking a sip of the margarita. “With an obscene amount of egg rolls?”
Joel smiled a little.
“Of course Baby,” he said.
Joel took care of Evie so you had space to relax but you pulled her onto your lap and held her close while you ate, your nose buried in her hair while she told you everything about her day.
When he took you to bed, he had every intention of keeping his hands to himself. But you had a different idea. You kissed his shoulder, his neck, over his jaw.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Don’t push yourself…”
“I’m not,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “Want you, want to feel you…”
He kissed you, gently at first, but your fingers knotted in his hair, pulling his mouth tightly to your own. Your hips ground against his, your breasts flush against his chest. He clutched onto you and moaned into your lips.
“Make me forget it all,” you said softly. “Please, Joel. Just for a bit.”
He moved you below him and took you slowly but firmly, like he was fucking every ounce of love he had for you, for the family you’d made together, into you until that was all that was left. There were no insane hours, no one you couldn’t save, no life or death stress. There was just you and him and how much he loved you.
The next day, he called in sick and kept Evie home from school. The three of you snuggled in bed until you needed to go to the hospital that evening.
“Thank you,” you said as you kissed him next to your car, the same place he’d found you crying the day before. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“I’m so proud of you Baby,” he held your face in his hands. “My girl the doctor.”
After that, Joel always knew exactly what you needed after a rough day at the hospital.
He texted Ellie to see if she could go to a friend’s place for a while after school - something she was thrilled about - and he stopped by your favorite BBQ place on the way home to pick up all your usuals. He opened a bottle of your favorite French wine and had a plate ready and waiting for you when you walked in the door.
“Joel,” you smiled, coming over and dropping your forehead to his chest. He smiled a little and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Yes,” he said. He felt you laugh against him. “But don’t mind hearin’ it again.”
You vented a little over dinner and the two of you polished off one bottle of wine before you moved to the living room. Joel opened a second and put on your favorite movie and held you on the couch, his hand tracing the contours of your body as he held you close.
“Ugh, you guys are gross,” Ellie said when you didn’t bother to separate from him at all when she came in the front door.
“Love you too, Gremlin!” You called after her as she went to her room. Joel laughed.
“Why do we keep endin’ up with teenaged girls?” He asked. “That’s the hardest age but I swear we’ve had a teenaged girl in this house for 20 fuckin’ years.”
“Gluttons for punishment,” you said, a smile on your voice.
“Doin’ any better?” He asked, fingers trailing through your hair against your scalp.
You sighed.
“A bit but…” your voice trailed off. “I’m so sick of this part of my damn job. There’s only so much board member ass I can kiss before I want to throw up. I got into this to take care of kids not deal with bureaucrats, you know?”
“You are helping kids by dealing with the bureaucrats,” Joel kissed your temple and gave you a squeeze as the credits to the movie ended. “C’mon baby, let me take you to bed.”
He got up and, before you had a chance to follow, he scooped you up off the couch. You let out a little shriek, your arms flinging around his neck and he laughed a little as he carried you to bed.
“Isn’t your back getting too old for that?” You teased as he set you gently on the bed.
“More worried about my knees,” he smiled a little. “Good thing I’m married to a doctor. Damn good one at that.”
“Not so sure about that last part these days,” you sighed and he leaned over and kissed you, gently, your face delicately in his large hand. His fingers tangled in your hair and he lay you back in the middle of the bed until you were stretched out below him. He pulled his mouth ever so slightly from yours, making you whimper.
“What were you sayin’ Baby?” He asked, his nose brushing your own.
“Uh,” you closed your eyes for a second. “I… I’m not sure…”
He kissed you softly for a moment before pulling away again.
“Good.”
He kissed down your body, unbuttoning your shirt as he went, until he got to your pants. He recognized them, you called them your ass kicking pants. You wore them when you wanted the extra confidence, wanted to feel like you could take control of anything. Joel just loved the way they made your ass and thighs look. He took a moment to appreciate the view, pressing a kiss just above the waist of your pants, his eyes running up your body until they met yours.
“Tell me everything botherin’ that pretty head of yours,” he said before kissing your stomach again. Your fingers twisted in the duvet. “C’mon baby. I want to hear you.”
“I had to show around Anders, that one board member who really sucks,” you said, voice a little breathy. Joel opened your pants and hooked his fingers around the waistband of them and your panties. You whimpered.
“Why’s he suck again?” Joel asked, sitting up enough to start pulling your pants down. You raised your hips off the bed to help and he pulled the clothes over your hips.
“You know why,” you were fully panting now.
Joel did know why. That wasn’t the point.
“Remind me.”
He pulled your pants off completely and climbed between your legs, settling between your thighs. He pressed a kiss to your mound and you moaned at his touch.
“He’s all about profit,” you said, voice tense and needy. “He loves plastics because it’s a money driver, always wants them to get the newest technology, everyone else always gets the…”
You cut off with a quiet gasp as Joel pressed his tongue to your clit, licking the sensitive nub firmly. He smiled a little and kissed you there, sucking you into his mouth for a moment before licking up your seam back to your clit.
“Fuck, Joel…” you were panting below him now. His hands went to your thighs, holding them to his head.
“What else, Baby?” He asked, kissing your clit again. “Tell me every little thing making that beautiful brain of yours work overtime.”
“There’s… Um…” your head dropped back onto the bed. “There’s that clinical trial that’s starting in a few weeks…”
He slipped his tongue between your folds, the tip of him slipping into your tight hole, making you moan and your back start to arch. He pressed deeper.
“I lost… I lost a day of work on it today and…”
His nose brushed your clit and you turned your head to bury your mouth in the mattress as you fought to not cry out in pleasure. His tongue opened your tight little hole for him, stretching and reaching deep, parting your walls. You panted and your channel coated Joel’s tongue in more slick, the flavor of your passion smooth and musky and slightly sweet. You rocked your hips against him and he smiled against your mound, his tongue stretched so the tip of it brushed the soft place inside of you that he loved.
“Keep goin’, Baby,” he said, pulling his mouth from you when you’d been speechless a little too long. “Tell me all of it.”
You took a moment, gasping and panting for breath.
“I didn’t get to spend time with Kaylee and her mom, Cara, today,” you managed. “Cara gets worried and I know she trusts me…”
Your voice broke as Joel thrust his tongue and a finger inside your tight hole, pressing deep into you and finding the places that he knew made you fall apart below him. He ate at you, his nose buried in your seam, brushing up against your swollen clit, tongue working you, finger stretching you. You let out a strangled little cry as your channel grew tight around him and he moaned against your pussy, starting to rut his hips down against the mattress. But he didn’t want to distract you, this was about you forgetting, not about him. You ground your hips against his face, unable to stop yourself anymore.
He licked into you, nose working your clit, finger hooking into your inner wall until you came over him, Joel lapping up your wetness as it spilled onto his tongue and his lips.
“Joel!” You gasped, your whole body arched for a moment as you throbbed around him and then collapsed back onto the bed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing against his tongue.
He waited until your body was loose on the bed before he pulled his tongue and finger from you. He wiped his mouth on his arm and crawled up your body to where you lay, panting and pliant below him.
“What else is botherin’ my girl? He asked softly, his fingers in your hair.
“I… um…” you were breathless. “I don’t remember.”
“Good,” he said softly, leaning in slowly to kiss you gently.
He stripped off his clothes and put one of his hands against your pussy, tracing your dripping seam, while he worked his cock for a moment. He kissed you, took your hand and lined his thick cock up with your entrance and pressed into you slowly, until he was deep inside you.
“Joel,” you breathed, your eyes searching his.
“Baby,” he nuzzled your cheek, savoring the feeling of you below him and around him, how tight you were, how warm, how soft. “What do you need?”
“Just you,” you said softly.
He kissed you again and started to move inside you, slow but firm. He thrust deep inside you until the tip of him was pressing against the place inside you that made you start to tighten around him before pulling back slowly. His head caught on every ridge of muscle inside you and he savored that feeling, this part of you that felt like it belonged to him. When just his head was left in your tight, grasping sex, he thrust back in you hard, hard enough to force the air from your lungs.
“Fuck, Joel,” your hips pressed up into him as you started to tighten around him. “Joel, please…”
“Anything else on your mind, Baby?” He panted. You whimpered and shook your head quickly. “I want to be the only thing in this pretty head, want to be the only thing inside of any part of you.”
You arched into him, your fingers digging into the flesh of his back as your pussy got even tighter around him.
“That’s it Baby,” he managed, his own orgasm getting closer. “C’mon, come all over me. Come all over this cock, I’m so close Baby, want you to milk me dry, c’mon Baby…”
You buried your face in his shoulder and thrust your hips up against his as you came around him, your channel throbbing fiercely over him. He only lasted two more thrusts before he pressed himself deep and came in you, filling you with rope after rope of his spend.
Your orgasm outlasted his own, your body pulling every last drop of come from his own and he collapsed as you went limp below him. Joel rolled onto his back and pulled you with him, so you were loosely draped over his body, his cock still deep inside you. He ran his hands slowly over your back as the two of you came down from your shared high. After a moment, you pressed a kiss to his chest and he felt you smile against his skin.
“What?” He asked.
“Definitely doing better now,” you said, teasing a little. He smiled.
“Good,” he kissed the top of your head. “Gotta do whatever I can to take care of my girl the doctor.”
You laughed a little.
“You take such good care of me,” your fingers traced little paths over his chest. “Think I can do anything as long as I’ve got you, Joel.”
He smiled and rested a hand on the small of your back.
“I think so, too.”
#fanfic#kit answers#send asks#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#lavender#joel miller x oc#joel miller smut
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~Intro Post ~
Hi everyone!
Long time cardiophile in the community but just discovering tumblr for the first time. Please bear with me while I work this out 😅
About me:
My first memory was me, maybe 3 years old, with my head on my Mums chest asking her what that was. Ever since then it’s always been a thing I’ve been fascinated in.
My cardio-interest can be many things and have evolved over the years. I have the curiosity about what certain things make it do. How it reacts to exercise or caffeine or nicotine or standing different ways. How holding your breath makes it skip and slow down. I love seeing the reactions to different things. This was the era I started in.
Then there is the emotional side. The heart can’t lie. If you had a stethoscope on my chest right now, while these words could be trying to portray confidence - you you hear her thrashing in my chest with nervousness / excitement. (Talking about hearts, even anon, gives me anxiety). It’s one of those things that in my real life I would love to be more open about but the level of trust to do that is something that needs to be earned.
And the dark / …. Adult side… if you asked me years ago I would have said hell no. It depends on the day, month, mood, etc. I’m more open to it these days. Electro, breath play and cpr is what I would lean into, but I’m either in the mood or definitely not. There’s no in between.
RP / Messages - I’ve never RP before. Maybe I want to try? I’m not sure. I need to be comfortable to talk about hearts so it would have to be a slow intro into it. I also never know how to answer a blind message saying “how’s your heart?” It kinda feels intrusive and personal so unless it’s a comment about a post PLEASE just start how you would any message to any friend 😊
About my heart
My heart wasn’t all the exciting. Sleeping she gets into the high 40s - low 50’s. Just sitting around working she’s chill around 68. It’s the exercise that gets her. I’ve been a smoker for about 16 years (the last 3 of those vaping instead). When I exercise she shoots up and stays in the 170-188 range on a run. Her recovery is ok considering nic. Slows down initially pretty quickly but says just about 100 for a while. She doesn’t throw many skips and I can induce a couple from a breath hold / push but usually will just beat really slowly after that.
… well all that was until 6 month ago. Yo girl was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult and started on stimulants. Now she feels completely different. I needed to go through the full heart check prior to this, I wanted so bad to see the ECG and see her beating but I was mentally not in a good place and didn’t get to.
They say that Dexadrine is meant to only increase your resting by 5-7 beats. I would end up sitting at my desk and her beating away happily in the 90s. I haven’t exercised yet but when they wear off at night I can definitely feel her pounding a bit harder and faster than she used to. I’ve now noticed late at night she will occasionally get skippy and throw 5 or 6 beats in a row. But only occasionally and then goes back the normal pounding rhythm.
Last night I wore my chest strap to bed to see how she was behaving. When she would usually be around 50, last night she didn’t get lower than 65. Today I decided to test her and record her without getting up and taking my meds. A true resting test. She was steady around 68 for 45 mins. Then she increased to about 72 as they kicked in. So maybe they weren’t lying. Maybe just being up is enough to jack her up into the 90s 🤔 she is pounding really forcefully though. I think I’m going to continue monitoring and see if this the norm.
Anyway, you’ve made it this far you probably deserve some of her sounds. After she didn’t take off into the 90s like I thought she would I decided it was time to have my morning nicotine. This is where the changes took place. A short sound for you to hear hear speeding up. This is before I’ve stood up still.
What do you hear? How fast is she beating? What do you think she’s feeling?
Soon I’ll try some exercise and we will see how that goes. 😅
#cardiophile#pounding heart#cardiophilia#fast heartbeat#beating heart#female heartbeat#self stething
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High with my lover
Reader X Conrad Fisher
mostly fluff (Spicy fluff but still fluff) may or may not write a smutty part two
Reader and Conrad wake and bake.
-
-
It was a cool summer morning in cousins, you had been up all night tossing and turning thinking about Conrad.
So before sunrise you hurried down to the beach in your Pajamas and a jacket you found hanging up by the door.
As you near the end of the path, you notice a familiar tawny head of hair.
"Conrad what are you doing up so early?" You say with fake shock in. your tone.
He gives you a sassy look before responding
"I couldn't sleep"
you two really were like two peas in a pod.
"What's on your mind?" you ask softly
"its not important," he replies quickly.
You decide to leave it as there was a sense of seriousness in his tone, that softly told you to drop it.
You plop down next to him and silently sit in each others presence for a few minutes, before Conrad pulls out a joint and starts trying to light it.
"Dude it is 5:45 in the morning are you serious?"
"What its summer, It's not like I have anything better to do anyway." He defends himself
"Fair enough" you say and pull out a blunt of your own.
"What the fuck, since when did you start smoking y/n???"
"Pretty recently, it has the same effects as my anxiety meds without the horrible side effects." you shrug
He just stares at you for a minute as you light up and take a hit.
"Our moms are going to fucking murder me if we get caught." Conrad grumbles.
You just shrug once again and offer him a hit, he just chuckles and takes a long drag.
You can't help but stare as he exhales, there's something so sexy yet so wrong about watching your childhood best friend smoke.
"What, are you going to take a picture or something?" Conrad jokes
"Oh fuck off." you laugh and take the joint back.
Suddenly you get a brilliant idea. May it be the haze starting to wash over your mind? Maybe but brilliant none the less.
"Do you want to try something?" you ask
"Depends on what you have in mind..." He trails off
"Do you trust me?"
He just nods in response, his red eyes wide with anticipation.
You take a long drag from the blunt and Then kiss him while blowing the smoke into his mouth.
Conrad groans in appreciation and kisses you back, before exhaling through his nose.
"That was so fucking hot,"
He takes the blunt from between your fingers and does the same to you. He inhales the smoke and then grabs the back of your head and kisses you roughly while exhaling the smoke into your mouth as you had done to him seconds prior.
As you exhale the smoke he pulls you onto his lap.
"You know I think that was one of the best ideas you've ever had" he says in a raspy voice
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your head in the crook of his neck to hide your blushing face.
"Don't get all shy now you started it Y/n." Conrad teases while pulling you back to look at you.
Your cheeks had gone vermillion at that point. You glance up into Conrads eyes and kiss him once more, this time he takes control and crawls over you, carefully laying your head down in the sand.
He gasps when you start to kiss his neck, and abruptly pulls back.
"Are you sure you're okay with this we don't have to do anything" Conrad states with a worried look in his eye.
" Believe me I want to, are you okay though?" You ask
He pulls back and sits next to you, "Okay promise not to laugh at me" He pleads
"Why would I laugh at you Conrad?" you say in a serious tone,
"Okay, this is sort of cheesy but I've wanted to do this for a really long time and well as hot as that was I want us both to be totally sober for this. I want to remember every single second of this"
you were too stunned to speak. Literally.
"Please say something you're freaking me out." Conrad says and pulls you closer.
"I feel the same way.. I love you Conrad.'
the two of you sit in comfortable silence and watch the sun rise the rest of the way before going back up to the house...
the end.. maybe. Let me know if you want a part two.
#conrad fisher#conrad x y/n#conrad x reader#tsitp#the summer i turned pretty#jeremiah fisher#conrad fisher x you#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher fanfic#team conrad#tsitp s2
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08. reunion day
“c’mon yn, stop being such a pussy.” tighnari sigh as you two entered the restaurant. ever since you got into the car and left, you’ve been gripping on your friend (tighnari)’s sleeve. “nari that is a lot to ask from me-” “ah! yn, tighnari! it’s good to see you two again!” nilou ran towards you two. she saw you holding onto tighnari’s suit sleeve and chuckled. “so… yn… are you and tighnari toget-” “no!” you both exclaimed in unison. “yn and i are just good friends that met during the med program,” tighnari explained. “anyways, let’s get to the room, shall we?”
walking towards the reserved room, you realized how many people were invited. seeing the people that were your former classmates made you… anxious? “i wonder if… if kaveh and haitham’s here.” you muttered in which nilou picked up on. “oh yes! they are! i saw them and talked to kaveh around a few minutes before you two arrived.” “ah, i see. thank you nilou.”
entering the room, your eyes lay upon the back of two familiar-looking individuals.
“for fucks sake yn, get your phone.” tighnari scolded you. “it’s been barely a minute since we sat down and you’re already on your phone… please have some control.”
“i’m sorry nari, i was texting kuni about-” “of course you were,” he laughed. he knew that you and scaramouche had a close relationship, in fact, most if not all of liyue knows.
“yn! nari!” you two hear a voice. “dehya! we’re glad you’re here! come sit beside us.” “so yn, what’s the plan with al haitham and kaveh?” deyha asked you, smiling. “i think i’m going to just walk up to them and say “hi” you know?” “sounds about right. they’re right over there, go do it right now!” tighnari and dehya pushed you off your chair, making you stand up and walk towards the two.
you took a big breath in and then went towards them. “hey pretty boy,” you said tapping kaveh’s shoulder and grinning. “sorry i’m- yn??” “the one and only” “oh my god YN!! i missed you so much holy shit, it’s actually you.” kaveh exclaimed, pulling you two a big hug. “i missed you too kaveh… i’ve never imagined that you’d be the type of person to grow your hair out- is that haitham beside you?”
“oh yeah that’s him. wait give me a second, he’s wearing noise-cancelling earbuds.” kaveh tapped on al haitham and then pointed at you. he shrugged and took out his earbuds. “i’m sorry, do i know you?” he asked cocking an eyebrow. “haitham it’s literally yn. you know like the one we were talking about-” “nice to meet you, yn. have we met before?” al haitham said, cutting kaveh off.
you were shocked. does al haitham really not remember you? maybe he has bad memory…? “ahem, anyways, yn. i’ll bring you back to your table.” kaveh said, interrupting your thoughts.
“i’m so sorry about him, yn. listen i think he’s just having a “bad memory moment” or something. it happens a lot when he takes my keys.” kaveh sighed, walking you back to your seat. “no it’s fine! i understand. like two years is long, isn’t it?” “yeah it is, but not enough to forget you… by the way, could i have your number- haha i mean like only if you’re comfortable. i wouldn’t want to-” “kaveh, of course, you can! here, i’ll write it down for you.”
you wrote down your number on a napkin, gave it to kaveh then sat down. did your friend, al haitham really forget about you…?
CULT OF DIONYSUS ❀ prev ✿ masterlist ✿ next
al haitham x reader x kaveh
SYNOPSIS kaveh, al haitham and you are close friends and went to the same high school. but after your junior year, you left them and sumeru behind for liyue’s 2 year med school exchange program. now you’re back in sumeru for a class reunion and attending sumeru akademiya.
#⁺◟✿ cult of dionysus : al haitham x reader x kaveh#al haitham x reader#al haitham smau#kaveh x reader#kaveh smau#al haitham x kaveh#genshin smau
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Cold Confessions
Reader is sick, swearing, kissing, friends to lovers, fluff, food, sorry for any mistakes!!
"Delivery for N/n, your best friend is here with food!" You heard Changbin exclaim from outside the door to your apartment.
"Binnie.." You whined as you opened the door.
"Oh my poor sick baby." He pouted, rushing forward to give you a hug.
"Mm, you'll get sick." You warned, letting him hug you anyway.
"Ah, I need a day off anyways." You giggled as he pulled away to shut the door.
"How do you feel? Hot?"
"Thanks for noticing." You winked, lifting your leg a little.
"Okay, so definitely a high fever.." He teased, laughing when you flicked his arm.
"I do feel warm, maybe it's because I have a sweatshirt on though." You noted.
"Well take it off- Is that my sweatshirt?" He paused as he looked at the design.
"Yeah, you left it here last week." You said.
"Ohhh, I thought I'd lost it, you little thief." He said, bringing you in for a slightly aggressive back-hug.
"Finders keepers." You said, wiggling out of his hold, making both of you giggle.
"I'll make dinner, why don't you start a movie of something?" He offered, causing you to hug him again.
"I love you." You smiled at him.
"Mhm, you love food." He rolled his eyes as he said it, making you giggle as you walked back into the living room.
.
"Shit.." You moaned, turning away from the tv's bright light.
"Migraine?" Changbin asked, immediately turning off the tv, glaring quickly at the device that had caused you pain.
"Yeah, I feel nauseous." You furrowed your brows as you felt your stomach churn.
"Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Changbin asked, standing up, ready to help you if need be.
"No..Can I be a boring host and lay down though?" He smiled at your weak tone, before nodding.
"Yeah, do you mind if I lay with you?" You nodded your head.
"If you don't mind me getting even more sick cooties on you." You said. Changbin internally cheered at the fact that you still had a sense of humor, usually when he was sick he got annoyed easily.
"Here, and I'll go get a few things." He said after helping you to your bed. He disappeared for a minute before returning with a trash bin and some medicine.
"Open your eyes for a few seconds and take these meds, and the bin is here if you need it okay?" You nodded, taking the medicine he'd offered. You were already half asleep by the time Changbin had changed into some extra clothes he'd left there, and crawled in bed.
"Hey bin..?" You whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I love you, so much." You smiled sleepily, reaching up a bit to kiss his jaw. He smiled softly at you and gathered the courage to tell you how he felt in the morning. The last thing you remembered was a warm feeling on your shoulder before you drifted off.
"Night pretty girl." Changbin smiled, nuzzling into your shoulder, he'd noticed you were cold and wanted to cuddle you in order to help warm you up.
.
"Morning Binnie." He smiled as he saw you walk out of the bathroom.
"Feel better?" He asked and you nodded, walking up and back-hugging him for a few seconds.
"Thanks for taking care of me." You smiled, shyly.
"It's what best friends are there for." He said, noting the way your eyes darted to the floor before coming back up.
"Yeah, best friends.."
"Except, you don't want to be just friends, right?" He asked cautiously.
"W-Huh?" Your head jerked up.
"Oh..please tell me you meant what you said last night, or did I just completely ruin our friendship?" He asked, seeming panicked.
"Oh God, what did I say?"
"You loved me." You felt your heart stop for a second, seeing the vulnerable look on his face.
"..Do you?" He asked, his tone softer.
"That depends on what your response would be.." You glanced back to the floor, not noticing Changbin getting closer until he was right in front of you. He brought his hand up to you cheek, bringing you closer to him and kissing your deeply.
"I'm so, so in love with you, Y/n." He whispered after pulling away, only to be pulled back in by you for another kiss.
#skz#skz imagines#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz felix#skz hyunjin#skz minho#skz i.n#skz fluff#skz seungmin#skz x you#changbin#changbin x reader#changbin x you#skz x reader#skz imagine#skz scenarios#skz fic#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagine#stray kids x reader
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Been thinking about childhood best friends Simon and reader in their late years of high school, and one night Si calls reader in the dead of night asking them to pick him up from who knows where cause he got into a fight and needs a ride (and some patching up), could you maybe do something with that?
Bandages
warnings: injury, gn!reader, platonic relationship, comfort
You picked up on the first ring, of course. It didn’t matter that it was two in the morning, you were up anyway. Besides, you would always answer for Simon. He was your guy.
There was silence on the other end, and then heavy breathing. You kept quiet, he would talk when he was ready. It was five minutes before he finally spoke.
“Could you pick me up?” his voice was soft. A tone he only used for you and Tommy.
You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, of course. You at your house?” Not home. That place was never a home.
He grunted, “No, I’m at the corner of 29th-“ why was he there? “-bring the back up med kit will ya?”
“Mhmm, I’ll be there in a few,” and then he hung up.
Sure enough, he was sitting on the curb when you pulled up in your worn down car. You couldn’t see the state he was in since his hoodie was pulled up over his head, but if he called for help it must be bad.
He stood up when you slowed to a stop in front of him, and he climbed into the passenger seat. You started driving the moment he was bucked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.
“So, gonna tell me what all this is about?”
“No,” you sighed, accepting his answer, or lack thereof.
You drove in silence after that. The air was tense and you could feel emotions radiating off of Simon.
Anger. Annoyance. Disappointment.
You pulled into an empty parking lot. You turned to your best friend, frowning “get in the back so I can do my patchwork?” He nodded, climbing back, and you followed suit.
“Take off your hoodie so I can asses the damage,”
“First you get me alone, then you get me to undress, what’s next?” Simon deadpanned and you glared at him, making him laugh as he stripped his shirt.
If you hadn’t seen Simon beat up and bloody before you would have gasped at the sight. He has bruises up and down his chest and on his left cheekbone. His right lip was cut and bleeding, and he had a gash on his left shoulder. And he looked exhausted. Dark purple eye bags dripping onto his cheeks. It saddened you to see him like this.
You weren’t sure how you ended up with a best friend who always got into fist fights, but you were not going to complain. He got enough of that at his house.
You grabbed a med kit- a plastic bag filled with band-aids, stitches, bandages, gauze, cotton balls, and hydrogen peroxide.
You dabbed the liquid onto the cotton balls, before pressing it to the gash on his shoulder. The cotton ball soaked with blood fairly quickly, and you had to
use several of them to thoroughly disinfect the wound. The you grabbed other materials to stitch him up. He didn’t say or do anything to make you believe he even felt the needle repeatedly pierce his skin. The only recognition you got from him was a grunt as you applied gauze and wrapped a bandage around the wound.
Due to where his lip was busted, the most you could do was disinfect it, and then put a band-aid on.
All finished, you smiled at Simon, “All better. Anything else I can do for you?”
He paused for a moment before answering, “Let me stay with you?”
You nodded, “Sure, Si,”
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© xxshadowbabexx 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#call of duty x reader#ghost cod#simon riley#ghost mw2#mw2 ghost#simon ghost#simon riley call of duty
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Hey so uh
If you want a small peek into the American healthcare system
I currently make about $18 an hour before tax. That’s much higher than the minimum wage in my state, which is $9.65.
I have ADHD, for which I am medicated. I take 20mg of Vyvanse (lisdexamfetamine). I still use my parents’ health insurance, because it’s MUCH better than anything I could get. Under their insurance, my monthly prescription is $30. Less than 2 hours of work for me, or just over 3 hours for someone at minimum wage.
Without my parents’ insurance, that same ADHD medication at that same dosage would be $454. Over 25 hours of work for me, or 47 hours of work for someone at minimum wage in my state.
Federal minimum wage is $7.25. Without insurance, that person would have to work almost 63 hours for one month’s worth of Vyvanse. That’s almost two weeks of full time work (assuming 32 hours a week is full time) going just to one medication, every month, before tax.
Thankfully, I can manage okay if I don���t take my meds. I don’t get significant withdrawal symptoms, maybe because I’m taking such a low dose and I frequently forget to take my meds anyway. If I don’t take them, I struggle more to focus or take care of myself, but I won’t have a medical emergency or worsen existing health issues. This is not the case for everybody! Think of how many different health conditions require continual maintenance and medication, such as insulin injections for diabetics or blood pressure medication for those at risk of stroke. Even for just my medication, not everyone gets so lucky. Some people experience significant withdrawals when they miss a day, like my cousin, who gets migraines if she forgets her meds. Some people would have serious consequences if they forgot to take their meds; I know of people with ADHD who can’t cook unmedicated because they’d burn the house down. If you can’t maintain enough focus to cook or grocery shop, how can you eat?
Point being, medical costs are so hecking high, and I am terrified of turning 26.
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Yesterday was ok, today anxiety's been awful again...
(rambling abt anxiety and nonsense venting below)
felt dizzy/bit of vertigo throughout the morning and when I checked my BP it was 154/108 so that scared the shit out of me... I took a bit of propranolol and that seems to be helping but I'm worried bc when I asked about what a dangerous BP was my stepdad said 160 and up and that's uncomfortably close. The last time it was high it was only like 140/90 so this was really scary
I called the number the crisis ppl give me from a resource sheet on friday again since I never got a response after leaving a message on monday but this time they told me to call yet another number and they said I couldn't get any kind of help till I came to their office to fill out some forms and like??? I CAN'T LEAVE MY FUCKING APARTMENT
Do these people never get ppl with severe agoraphobia?? The last time I had a full-on panic attack I screamed at the top of my lungs and had to call 911 to get ppl to calm me down so I'd stop hyperventilating, you want me doing that in public again??????
Anyway she told me I can call the supervisor and see if she could make an exception in my case BUT ofc she wasn't available and I had to leave a message, no clue when I'll hear back and when I do I doubt she'll even be able to help me
I fucking hate this system. This is why so many people kill and hurt themselves. When they are lost, when there's nowhere else to turn. When the crisis ppl come they give you a whole list of resources but what is there for people like me who are stuck at home, broke, unable to work bc they literally cannot function like this when it gets this bad every couple of months (sometimes more frequently)
it's either go to a psych ward where they'll pump you full of meds that'd just give me the same "locked in" panic attacks which trust me are far worse than toughing it out at home where at least it isn't bright and loud and horrible or face shit on your own
I thought it was starting to get better, yesterday I cooked 3 meals for myself, I went outside and sat on the step for 5 mins, today I can't get out of bed bc every time I try the room spins. Even when I'm laying down like this it's bad. Even if I close my eyes it's bad... I slept better last night and I thought I was doing well but no, midway through the day everything's horrible again. I keep feeling out of breath no matter how many deep breaths I take... other times I feel like there's "too much air" and I'm breathing too fast and can't slow it down... how do I even describe it??
I feel like I'm going insane but at the same time I know it's been this bad and worse before. I remember my childhood. I remember laying on the floor struggling to breathe, alone. I remember begging god to take this sensation of dread to go away, or to just let me die. Anxiety has a habit of always seeming... idk unfamiliar? No matter how many panic attacks you have, they always feel new
and what's worse is I can't even remember how I eventually always overcome these phases bc I ground rule growing up stemming from OCD I had at the time was I wasn't allowed to write anything in a journal bc it was "bad luck" or something (at the very least my OCD isn't nearly as bad these days) Idk if it takes days, weeks or months to get better. If I spend half a year or longer just waiting for things to get better then like um... it kinda becomes a quality of life issue, doesn't it?
Idk maybe it's the weather. It's 65 rn, yesterday it was mid forties, so maybe that's it. Well then I'm fucked bc it's only gonna get warmer as it approaches summer, and ya know climate change and everything wooooo
Doesn't help that the past two times when my stepdad witnessed me having those really bad attacks he said I should go to a padded cell or something... I know where he grew up there was no such thing as mental illnesses or therapy, only "crazy and not crazy", but damn it hurts. At least my bio dad understood what was going on to some extent. He knew anxiety was out my control, that I was going through it but that it didn't make me "crazy", just that my body was reacting physically to something seemingly unsurmountable on a mental level.
My stepdad was even surprised when I told him anxiety is the second most common mental illness nation-wide. I've talked to many other bad anxiety-sufferers, the reason you don't see us outside a lot is bc most of us are inside afraid to leave our houses! We're literally just trying to survive in bodies with malfunctioning nervous systems and in a society that literally is built around causing stress on a daily basis- on normal people, so just think about how that is if you literally have the being-stressed-out disorder my guy
it also seems like whenever I talk to my mom about this she tries to immediately talk about something else. Like I messaged her earlier today and when I brought up feeling dizzy and having a high BP she just said "Sorry you're having a challenging day! We're at the library getting library cards. Libraries are nice!" like sure some ppl like talking about light hearted stuff to distract them but sometimes I just need someone to be there and listen, you know? All it does is make me clam up and bottle all my emotions in, which ofc makes it worse.
I'm scared to check my BP again. I feel like there's something terribly wrong with my body but it's not as if I can see a doctor if I can't 1. afford it till medicaid processes or 2. fucking go to the doctor. You want me to have another one of those soul-crushing panic attacks and shriek around some stranger in an uber?? Hell no
So yea idk what to do. I have a math test this weekend and I've barely studied at all, can't get myself to focus on anything. I can't drop out again, I've already failed this class twice. I don't think they'd let me take it again and I'm pretty sure I've run out of financial aid to pay for it
Ofc mom and dad are gone, my sister said she'd visit me the other day but "forgot" to, so I'm alone. Completely and entirely alone.
The one thing I have going for me is the PMDD won't start up for another week or two so at the very least I have a will to live rn. Anxiety and depression usually go hand-in-hand but since it's just anxiety atm I'm still able to have the motivation to cook and clean when I'm not ya know unable to get out of bed bc my heart is beating out of my chest
When it does come back, well... I'll keep those crisis numbers on speed dial. I've survived all this horseshit, I might as well make it worth something. Idk maybe the thing I'll keep living for rn is a fucking pet fish someday. I have to hold on to every tiny thing that gets me through the day bc there is a chance, even if extremely slim, that things will in fact get better
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"The Haunted Flesh Machine"
@plaguedghosts @iwrotesomeofitdown @notjustanyannie
Here is my slam poem. Thank you for the encouragement!
I'd like to preface this by saying it is a poem of my struggles and fears, and this should not be taken as the most mentally healthy or even correct writing.
CW: discussion of disordered eating, slight suicidal ideation, a little bit of internalized ableism
I’m losing my grip on reality. Each hour of the day slips from beneath my fingertips before I can even close my hand.
My motor functions are so much slower these days.
I walk through a persistent haze, going through the motions, but I am never present for them. My body acts on autopilot, but the battery is on low.
I’m smart—I always have been—I’m an engineer for crying out loud—but I don’t think I can access that anymore. My intelligence is locked behind a firewall in my brain.
Do you know how insane that is? Being unable to use your own mind?
All my judgments are tinted because the brightness is turned down. I think my brain is in battery-saver mode.
The fatigue is the worst because I can feel it all throughout my body. No amount of sleep seems to recharge me. I am perpetually tired and confused and dizzy and unaware.
I’m sure my eating habits don’t help. I’m just putting water in my gas tank. No amount of Fanta Orange and Lucky Charms is going to make up for the entire sections of the food pyramid I am missing. I try to start my brain up, but water isn’t quite nearly as combustible, and I end up with no output.
I want to be in control. I want my body to work. I don’t want my vision to get darker with every step I take.
Another day, another near-emergency. My heart beats too fast, my blood pressure falls too low. Sometimes presyncope lasts for longer than it needs to.
Sometimes I change colors like a chameleon on its deathbed.
My code is flagging for errors, but I’m running it anyway.
I think my computer is getting overheated. My face is hot to the touch.
If this was the Victorian Era, my symptoms would be romanticized. There’s something poetic about wasting away.
I fear that I’m getting weaker by the week.
Another day, another new problem. Which diagnosis does it fit under? I’m too tired to make a spreadsheet, not that I could log it if I did.
What month is it anyway? How many months have I been here? It seems like an eternity when I’m in pain, but time passes too quickly when I’m not.
I haven’t taken my meds in a while. I’ve given up on them working. Neglect is also a form of control.
I’m rotting inside. I’m rotting in my bed. I hardly leave my bed, but when was the last time I slept?
Surely this will have no repercussions.
I’m smart for a day, so my expectations are high, and as a result, my workload is too. I’m a workaholic on the days I’m present at all.
That’s who they see when they look at me. They don’t see that I’m sick. They don’t connect the dots on the days I wear a little less makeup than usual.
They don’t even bother to look.
I’m fighting for control over my mind and my body, and they are none the wiser.
If I were underweight, maybe they’d care a little. Maybe they’d treat me with a little more care. It’s easier to tell when something is wrong when you’re underweight.
I could collapse in the middle of a busy street and no one would even give it a second glance. They might even walk over me, thinking I was part of the sidewalk.
On the off chance they did see, what a shame it would be, for the one time I'm perceived, I lack bodily autonomy.
Is it worth being noticed when you're unconscious? Is it worth it if the one time I am seen is when I have no control over whether my mouth is hanging open or my shirt is riding up? I've spent so long meticulously curating the way I look to others, just to be totally helpless when it matters.
I can change my wallpaper but that doesn't make my phone work any better. And people don't see the wallpaper first, they see the cracks in the screen.
Sometimes I am conscious but not responsive. I lie like a corpse, observing, but not interacting as they crowd around me. Observing as they look at me.
They could not provide the help I need.
They only see me when I'm outside my body—a freakshow display of my vulnerability.
Maybe if I hit my head next time, I'll reboot. I could use a factory reset.
I often think of what it would be like to have a better brain. I think mine is haunted.
Do you have to be dead to be a spirit?
My head is possessed by a ghost that lurks in my nerves tissue and flesh. I hear it wail whenever I move, mourning a loss I cannot understand.
A restless spirit leads to a restless night, and each night I can't sleep I blame the ghost.
I wish sleep could fix me. I'm so tired all the time.
The ghost must be what powers my perpetual motion machine. Inertia isn’t enough. I keep going and going until eventually I explode.
I don’t think I’ll make it to my 40’s.
My body will break itself down until it can digest me, and I’ll eat myself like an ouroboros.
I don’t want to die, I just want to rest.
If I sleep for a good year, maybe I’ll feel human again. I would like to feel human again.
I dream that one day I will collapse, and people will rush me to the hospital. There, the doctors will find out exactly what is wrong with me, and that it can be treated by taking a pill. And then, I get better.
My face will look a little softer, my eyes a little less heavy. I’ll walk everywhere I go, and I’ll stand up in the mornings.
Maybe food will be less of a battle when I’m healthy.
Maybe I’ll burn in the atmosphere before I crash down to earth.
Right now, my collision course is set toward hospitals, tubes, and wires. I’ll only have to sign away my autonomy when I check-in.
Is there early prevention for a trojan virus?
Did I ever have a chance? Fated to keep running on empty until there’s nothing left to run.
I have no salvation, I am just a machine.
There is no happy ending for me.
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State of the WIP Address
Okay, y'all, I've been in a really weird place where I've been avoiding...pretty much a lot of stuff. Dunno if I have to talk to my doctor about upping my meds or what, but this is why I actually went on them--my depression manifests not in laziness, but avoiding things I need to do and things I actually WANT to do. Then I don't do them and it all starts building up. And then the to do pile feels insurmountable, like I'll never get to finish all these wonderful things. So I just...freeze up and roll over. Like a fainting goat. You'd think I'd be like "yay! lookit all the things to look forward to! I have years ahead of me full of things I really want to do! I should never be bored again!" But no. Can't do them Right Now? Fainting goat. It's weirdo. We've all got our weirdo and this is mine.
I only mention it here because I do State of the WIP Address to be accountable. Now, the weird thing is, I don't actually expect anyone to read these posts--they're boring and personal and totally for my own motivation. I just know myself and know if I put something out there, I'll feel bad if I don't do it and that should motivate me to actually do it.
But here's the thing....it doesn't work anymore. I'm no longer fulling for my own snake oil. The placebo has run out. If I know it's inconsequential, then my brain tricks me into thinking that I'm accountable to no one. And, in reality, it's true that I'm actually accountable to no one so the trick doesn't work.
Anyway. Welcome to Adira's brain where she finds her own thought patterns a fascinating psychological study and the lab results are inconclusive.
So I'mma try to twist the experiment a bit. Rather than list the things I know I can't get to right this second and feel bad about it, we're gonna let promises go and do it this way. It's not interesting to anyone but me and anyone who nerds out on process. But rather than listing the things I'm not working on, I'll talk about the ones I am, how it's going, what's in my craw about it, and maybe in my ramblings I'll clear the gears to start rolling again.
This isn't interesting to anyone but me unless you really wanna see how seriously I take my fic writing. Cringe if you want. I'm just being honest with myself. My fic isn't high art, but as with anything I create, I can't half-ass it either. It's "be satisfied with it on my terms" or bust.
STATE OF THE WIPS
I have one million projects happening, but these are the pieces I'm actively thinking about and working on at the moment.
SECRET SANTA
Where it's at: I'm writing for someone I think is a wonderful person and want to do right by them, so the pressure's on. But at the same time, it's not. Because I know how accepting and lovely the person is and they gave me a lot of prompts and options and like a lot of the things I do and seem to like a lot of the types of things I like to write. I also know that this doesn't have to be over-complicated, that I can write my heart and it will please both of us. While I haven't actually opened up a doc to start, I know that it's the type of thing that if I have a little uninterrupted block of time, I can just sit down and it will flow. I won't say much about it here, but I will say that while it can 100% be read as standalone, it hits on a character/series I'm currently writing and acts as a kind of prequel, a reason for loving the reader as he does. It's something that is kind of missing in the planned series and I think this would be a nice opportunity to explore it before moving forward (and maybe helping propel that series a little) while also touching on one of the characters my giftee likes, a genre they are interested in that I hadn't considered with this character, and it will have a tone I think they'll appreciate. So while it's for them and being written with their likes in mind, I thank them, because it's also a little gift for me and my yearnings.
What's stopping me: Time constraints and general anxiety.
TROPE FIC: MODERN DOM!PERO
Where it's at: This one got a little sloppy and I'm working on it. I've been following @max--phillips' entries about what defines certain types of kinks and while my thoughts on dom!Pero started as true dom, they swung wrong when I started working on this, and now I'm just thinking myself back to the definition of dominant. And while I may still be missing the mark, it's helping me to think more about how I want to explore and frame this dynamic. It's also giving me a little trouble in that it's not coming out chronologically which causes me to waste time jumping around and retrofitting things.
What's stopping me: I put this one on hold to start prioritizing the Secret Santa piece.
TROPE FIC: SEX POLLEN!OBERYN
Where it's at: This piece is flowing chronologically. It's going to be longer than I anticipated and the first draft is about 1/3 done. I already know that after the first draft I'll have to do some shaping and I think maybe I got overwhelmed with the task I set for myself and that triggered my avoidance. I know where it's going, I'm excited for it, it will flow easily if I let it, I just have to do it!
What's stopping me: I put this one on hold because I got distracted by tasty Pero thoughts. I blame @perotovar for the thots, but not the stopping. That's all on me.
TROPE FIC: ALPHA!JAVI
Where it's at: I'm about 1/2 done with the first draft. Again, this one will be longer (and also more angsty) than I anticipated. I love love love where it's going though and reader and Javi's history is beautiful and sad and complex; I really love that half. I'm just now switching into the modern day section of it and have to make a few decisions about how I actually want it to go. My mind is over-complicating the story and I'm trying to wrestle it down a softer path.
What's stopping me: I got distracted by the Oberyn story which is why this one's on hold and now this is all Inceptioning on itself.
GOOD. THINGS. TAKE. TIME.
Where it's at: The asks are all sorted, there are only a few more sessions left before chapter 4. I just have to write it.
What's stopping me: Here's the thing about PATS. If I was out for notes, I'd be pounding on this series, because it's my most popular one. But... really, I'm just here to dream up stories I like to tell. I put PATS down not consciously and not because I don't love him, but I got excited by other ideas. I want to finish it because I don't like having a bunch of unfinished projects lying around, but I also don't want that to be my #1 motivator for writing him. I want to enjoy it. I did enjoy putting the latest installment out, but I also don't feel like I'm letting anyone down if I don't hurry it, just because engagement is low. Again, I'm not here for the notes, I truly love the connection and the squeeing and sharing a yearn. We're all so busy now that it's tough to get to everything and the mutual timing is a bit off. That's okay. It's planned out, it'll get done, I just have to do it when I'm feeling it.
LEAVE OFF YOUR WANDERING: WINTER
Where it's at: Finished plan. Yet to begin writing.
What's stopping me: I was wrestling with this one for a bit because I had two directions it could go--soft and fluffy without much meat, or weaving all the details together and serving a story that gets rather dark, a little sad, and serves as a fix it. On one hand, I felt like I would be betraying readers by not keeping the euphoric escape. But I would also feel like I built this whole backstory that needed to manifest itself in a test for Joel and Meadowlark, as well as the fact that--other than backstories--there hasn't been any canon hardship or violence displayed. It's like I'm missing a huge chunk of who Joel and Meadowlark are. In the end, that's where the story wants to go, so I'm going there. And I have to not think about what anyone else wants, just me. Not just for selfish reasons, but I know that's when I do my best. It doesn't mean there won't still be fluff and a happy ending. It just means I have to write darkness and perhaps it will serve me better to do it in the season in which it takes place.
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Hey same anon who has the narcotic plants special interest. I am sorry for a long ask
I wanted to tell you a brief story that you may find funny or sad. Or sad but funny. I once took an edible with my 2 cousins, it was 300 mg so we split it in 3, this was not a problem for me in the past so i take approx 100 mg.
Unbeknownst to any of us, this was artificial/synthetic THC
We had gone to the movies to watch Pirates of the Caribbean, we thought it would be fun to watch while high.
Something in the artificial THC kind of cramped my brain. And by half way through the movie I was practically blind from how high I was. This was extremely unusual and my cousins were having strange reactions as well, one fell asleep and was unconscious through the loudest movie ever and my other cousin was *ravenously* hungry, like, more than you get with munchies.
She said she felt like she was starving and no matter what she ate it couldnt satiate her for like 48 hours
For me though, I'm on psych meds. Antipsychotics, anti depressants, catalysts, and things for neurological problems which of course includes POTS and vasovagal syncope.
Anyway I decide to head out first before my family because I was half aware that I was severely impaired and I was in heels so i needed to see if i could walk straight and not right in front of my grandmother, we didnt want our grandmother to find out (it wasn't legal here in CA yet)
I head out of the theater and as i walk through the door, boom vasovagal response. Luckily I can tell when blood pressure drops so i know it's going to happen so I sat down and put my head between my knees.
that's the last thing I remember, but i was going in and out of consciousness and while unconscious, it felt like endlessly falling backwards. I was only aware of my thoughts for brief moments of clarity when I would wake up, but i would just pass out again
I do remember hearing the paramedics, when we arrived at the hospital, mocked me and said "i couldnt handle a little edible"
They did a bunch of tests and basically found that the edible's artificial THC was something actually ridiculous like my portion was the equivalent of 1,500mg of THC
Apparently during the time I was unconscious I was screaming (constricted vocal chords) and crying uncontrollably and proceeded to have a pretty bad seizure.
I was high from this for like a week straight and it wasnt the fun kind. It was the hangover type of high like, super bad headache, makes you feel like shit, tired, ugh i hated that feeling.
BUT! This event Gave me a super power
It made me immune to edibles. At least THC edibles. I am dead serious. I was afraid to try edibles again after this event but i went through with 50 mg.... nothing. 100 mg.... nothing. 150mg.... nothing. I dosed myself like this, waiting for it to kick in and it never would. So i decided to use a tincture to see how long it took until I felt something.
I gave up at 800 mg, I felt nothing, and im p sure 800 is enough to make someone uncomfortably high. it just. Doesnt work for me anymore
So. I have to inhale THC to get high now. I try to stick to dab pens but theyre no better on your lungs than smoking marijuana.
I hope this doesnt seem like trauma dumping or anything! i just wanted to share my superpower and story as well as maybe a warning for others if this is posted.
Anyway, so sorry to ramble, have the best night/day/afternoon you can <3
Wow, I'm really sorry you had to go through that shitshow! I have had Too Much Edible on several occasions, but never anything that extreme. Who the fuck even WANTS weed to do that kind of shit?! 😭
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As someone with clinical depression and bpd ++ some other stuff I just wanna say I absolutely understand the "wanting to get better but Knowing it won't ever end". Like, I am in a very similar boat where I know I'm never ever going to be able to be told I don't meet the criteria for the stuff I have. But god, one day, I'd like to say I'm not struggling anymore. That for a whole month I woke up GOOD. I didn't rot in bed for 5 hours. I did all my tasks and I only felt a little sad and when I felt sad I let it pass instead of it eating me up and ruining all my progress.
It's gonna get better for us both I think. The only way out is through. And I think we can manage a few more bramble patches. 🫂
I won’t go into my full list of diagnoses because it’s long and also incomplete, my therapist actually has told me that despite me fitting the criteria for a few other disorders, since i already have several disorders, it’s prob just best to identify what symptoms i deal with one by one than segment a whole mess of things into seperate disorders that interact anyways. but i deal with anything from dissociation to obsessive-compulsive thought proccesses to hallucination to delusion to periods of intense paranoia and agoraphobic tendancies, and it’s a fucking mess and i’ve been officially getting treatment for all that for like 11 or 12 years now, but the most consistant thing is my depression, which is given all those fun labels like ‘severe’ ‘treatment resistant’ ‘chronic’ and ‘high-risk’, and i’ve had that since i was about three years old (maybe before that, but that’s the age it started presenting/i can remember.) It’s rough to like. sum up the way it makes you feel when you don’t remember not dealing with severe mental illness, it’s just my life and what i know. I’m not asking for it to be gone, because i don’t know my life and myself without it. But i do sometimes dream that one day I will be able to leave it behind in another respect- that people will not worry about me constantly, that maybe i can wean off meds someday and learn to balance life without them, or be able to have a wider open schedule- i have had therapy no less than twice a week, at it’s most 7 days a week for a full decade, and i just sometimes want to know i’ll be okay if i stop active treatment someday. But i don’t, and that’s what makes it suck so bad!! I try to be open as i can about it but sometimes it’s difficult to explain to people with mental illness that sometimes people can’t get better and it’s not just ‘giving up’ or ‘excusing symptoms.’ I work everyday to be a better person but i’m aware that it’s not going anywhere. It’s endlessly frustrating that whenever my mental health dips i get told ‘you just need to continue the work’ because it’s true! it’s so true, i need to keep working. but the work is not curing me, it’s just sustaining me, and that’s difficult. I just sometimes want a good week and i want to know it will be good in advance so i can enjoy it. And I want to take better care of myself, i do, but it’s just that self-care for a person like me has a lot of obstacles in the way. And i’m just trying to get through. I’m glad you can relate. It’s really tough to be treatment-resistant or chronic with mental health because mental illness is often treated as a disability you can and will overcome, but it’s just not true for everyone, and it’s tough trying to come to terms with what that means for the future.
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