#the way they go about their world building is great

[craisinsensation1029]

Tri Harder

Chapter 2 ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

also on AO3 <3

Suguru Geto & Satoru Gojo

After an innocent party game, Geto & Gojo make it their mission to fuck you. That's it.

Ch 1 | Ch 3

fem reder, alcohol, provocative dancing, making out, semi public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, NOOOO ONE IS STRAIGHT ONCE AGAIN

~7k

MDNI

When Shoko didn’t answer her phone the following Monday, Gojo knew there was only one place she would be. He always picked Geto up from work, but he wouldn’t be driving straight home today.

“We’re going to see Shoko.” Gojo was peeling off the pavement the moment Geto closed the passenger door. “I was knocking on her door earlier and she didn’t answer. Hasn’t answered my texts or calls either.”

“Yes, my day was fine,” Geto yawned, throwing his laptop bag into the back seat. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Gojo looked over at Geto who was donning a black, button down shirt with khaki chinos. For the past two years, he worked as an English teacher for highschool freshmen and sophomores after he graduated. 

Gojo on the other hand was working for his family’s accounting company, although even he would use the word working rather loosely. More like, he graduated from college because he had the resources to do so, but he knew money would never really be an issue. He worked from home mainly because he needed something to occupy his time while his friends were busy.

“How was your day, angel? ” Gojo teased, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they arrived at a red light.

“If you want a nickname, you can just ask,” Geto laughed lightly. “No need for you to keep throwing this temper tantrum about it. You being all jealous is cute though, I’ll admit that.”

“Not jealous,” Gojo grumbled. “But you know what’s actually crazier than you accusing me of being jealous and throwing a temper tantrum?” He looked over and raised a brow for dramatic effect.

“I don’t know.” Geto shrugged. “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“The fact that you were telling me to be nice when you were busy being two fingers deep in someone you knew for like, an hour. ”

Geto contemplated his word choice before he spoke. “Well, she said thank you afterwards. For all intents and purposes, I was being extremely nice,” he reasoned. “I was providing a service, if you will.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Gojo shook his head as he continued driving. He wasn’t always the most careful driver, but was always mindful when Geto was in the car. The threat of being scolded for his driving skills had him obeying every traffic sign and speed limit until they reached their destination.

Gojo drove successfully without any criticism, and parked in front of the building. He and Geto got out of the car, Geto holding open the building door for them.

They made their way towards the back of the library where Shoko usually holed herself up and cut herself off from the rest of the world. Her head bobbed to whatever was playing in her headphones as she scrawled something in her notebook, highlighting it quickly afterwards.The table was littered with cans of empty energy drinks and candy wrappers, a telltale sign she had a big test coming up soon.

Geto pushed some of the empty cans aside so he could get a clear view of her. He then sank into the seat across the table from her while Gojo pulled out the chair next to her, spinning it around and sitting in it backwards. Gojo folded his arms over the top of the chair, looking in Geto’s direction to start the conversation.

“Shoko,” Geto mused, a gentle smile gracing his face. “Glad to see you’re alive and well after the party. You were fast asleep when we left.”

She looked up, capping her highlighter with a wistful smile on her face. “It was a great birthday.” She took one of her headphones out of her ears as she said your name. “I’m glad she took care of me and Utahime the next morning. I swear, we always get more fucked up whenever she’s around. Her and that damn cooler full of drinks.”

Gojo quickly cleared this throat at the mention of your name. “Oh, yeah! About–”

“No,” Shoko cut him off. 

Gojo felt like a deflated balloon careening through the air. “What the fuck?” His voice came out more frantic than he planned. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Shoko’s eyes traveled from Gojo’s to Geto’s, pointing an accusing finger at both of them. “Okay, you both listen then,” she demanded. “I’ll have you know that she is Utahime’s friend before she’s my friend. They were like, childhood neighbors or something. She just happened to go to the same med school as me,” she explained.

Gojo and Geto exchanged a look that told them everything they needed to know, but Shoko continued. “Utahime always says it's unfortunate enough that I know you two, and doesn’t want any more cross contamination.” She shrugged lazily. “That’s why you’ve never met her. For what it’s worth though, Utahime was super fucked up at my party, I don’t even think she remembers you two were there.”

Geto raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He remembered very clearly being acknowledged by Utahime… and threatened several times.

“Well she normally always complains afterwards whenever you two happen to be around.” She spoke of Utahime’s distaste for the pair as if it were the most casual thing on the planet. “But in the morning she only talked about how much fun she had.” A sly smile played on her lips. “Anyway, don't start blaming me that you never met her friend and couldn’t… do whatever it is you two do.”

“Ugh,” Gojo groaned, throwing his head back in disbelief. That was cockblocking to another level. Preventing them from even wanting to meet you was utterly ridiculous. “What’s her problem?”

“I think she’s still pretty upset about the whole graduation dress thing… among other stuff,” Shoko reminded him.

Graduation Day, Three years ago 

Gojo stood happily with Geto and Shoko on the day of graduation. Utahime bounded over to get in on the picture they were taking. She unzipped her gown, causing Gojo to let out an obscene gasp. 

“You just got a degree and that’s what you decided to wear?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she growled, immediately clenching her fist. “I chose this dress months ago, and I look great.” 

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace painting his face. “You should have chosen your dress years ago if this is what you went with after deciding for months.” 

Her lips formed a scowl and Geto’s voice interjected before she could say anything. “Satoru, not everyone is able to afford the style they want,” he reasoned. “She’s probably just working with the best she had available, you should be nice.” 

Her scowl deepened as she looked from Gojo to Geto. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she seethed. 

“Oh.” Geto was taken aback. “Was that dress actually your first choice?” 

“You two are the worst.” She stood next to Shoko. “I hate them.” 

Gojo rolled his eyes. “That was eons ago. You don’t see me getting my torches and pitchforks ready every time she calls me a blue eyed, unblinking freak.” That was among the less colorful choice of words she had in her arsenal whenever she referred to Gojo.

“I’m still unsure where her animosity for me came from,” Geto mumbled, recalling the same dress situation. He truly thought it was just a last minute option, but he pushed the memory aside. That was Utahime’s issue, he was fishing for information about you. “So, what do you all do when you guys hang out?” he pressed gently. “It seemed like she already knew all our other mutual friends.”

Shoko shrugged. “Drink, hangout. Nothing crazy.” She tapped her chin with her highlighter. “We’re going out to some club this weekend since Kento and Yu are finishing their programs this semester. She might be there,” she teased.

“What club?” Gojo asked immediately.

“I don’t knooooow, ” Shoko sighed. “I can’t really seem to remember… if only I had a pack of cigarettes to jog my memory a bit…” Geto looked at Gojo and raised a brow. Gojo grumbled something unintelligible and took a twenty out of his wallet, sliding it to Shoko. “Well I’ll have to make sure I have enough to get Utahime drinks at the club too. Not like she would accept anything from the likes of you two.”

Gojo took a fifty out of his wallet this time, grumbling, “Do you remember the name of the club now?”

She let out another sigh as she said your name. “Well, she’s still my friend too, you know? I can’t get Utahime something without getting her something, that’s just rude.”

Gojo fished out another fifty along with some miscellaneous singles that were in his wallet and slid it toward her. Geto bit back a laugh as Gojo rolled his eyes. “Do you remember now?”

Shoko picked up the money with a nod. “It’s actually all coming back to me now.” She smiled at Gojo sweetly, “Club Phoenix at ten. You’ll probably want to come a little after that though, so Utahime is already drunk.”

“Can’t believe I had to give my friend over a hundred bucks to tell where she’d be hanging out this weekend,” Gojo groaned, shaking his head. “Something tells me we need to reevaluate this friendship.”

“Your own stupidity cost you…” she paused to count the money before pocketing it, “one hundred and twenty seven dollars.” She moved to start packing up her things. “Why didn’t either of you geniuses just ask for her number?” she laughed. 

Gojo’s face immediately fell, and Geto shot him with an equally blank stare. Shoko let out another laugh as she shoved her things into her bag. “Give me a ride home, would you?”

“Yeah, just use me again,” he mumbled. Gojo hated the unintentional comedian he became with the way Shoko’s sides were splitting with laughter, but he stood anyway and reoriented his chair to its original position. 

Geto picked up the empty cans and wrappers on the table, discarding them in a nearby garbage can. “Still find it hard to believe youre studying to be a doctor when you smoke and drink like a sailor.”

“It’s called duality.” The three got into Gojo’s car and he dropped Shoko off. She waved goodbye, still laughing as she said, “See you on Saturday!”

When Geto and Gojo returned back to their apartment, Gojo immediately flopped onto the couch with a groan. “Why didn’t you get your angel’s number?” he taunted. “Hmm?” 

Geto let out an easy laugh as he stripped off his shoes and slid into the kitchen. “I guess I was a bit too preoccupied to think about that.” He grabbed the chicken he seasoned the day before from the fridge along with some vegetables. He chopped the vegetables diligently as he preheated a skillet. “Doesn’t matter now though, we’re seeing her this weekend.”

“Too preoccupied?” Gojo scoffed. He got up from the couch and joined Geto in the kitchen. Plopping down on one of their dining room chairs, his hand cupped the side of his face and his elbow rested on the table. “Well I guess if I were in that closet for hours, I would have forgotten too.”

Geto slid the chopped vegetables into the pan, delighted by the fragrance of the onions and garlic as they began to sizzle. “By that logic, shouldn’t you have thought to get her number because you had less time?”

Gojo scrunched his nose. “Just shut up and cook.” He shook his head, unable to shake the conversation from earlier. “I still can’t believe Utahime is being so… vindictive.” 

Geto started to move the vegetables around in the skillet, adding the chicken once the vegetables were browned. “If she's still upset about that ugly dress, so be it.” He wasn’t as bothered by her dislike of him, he didn’t care about egging her on either. Referencing you, he said, “If she wants to be around us, she will. She’s met us now, I don’t see Utahime being a real obstacle.”

“You sure?” Gojo asked, extending his legs. “Well, Shoko did tell us Utahime is easier to deal with when she's trashed.”

Geto waved off his last statement. “She’s a real nonfactor if you ask me. It's us, right?” he asked with a smirk.

Gojo smirked back and nodded in response.

Gojo and Geto had both been to club Phoenix plenty of times. Their whole friend group used to sneak in when they were all underage, giggling when they were let in although it was no secret to the bouncers that their IDs were fake.

The club had a live DJ every night, the drinks were shitty and the food was questionable in every aspect, but it was always a good time. The dance floor was always packed and strobe lights illuminated the space without being too disorientating. There were some couches placed in the alcoves while the others lacked furniture and remained in the dark, untouched by any lights and hard to be seen from other areas in the club.

Even as years passed by, they still found themselves enjoying the space even though they had been to many more upscale clubs since then. Tonight was no different. 

Geto wore dark jeans with a short sleeved buttoned down shirt, opting to keep the first few buttons undone. Gojo similarly wore dark jeans with a cotton tee, and they both wore casual sneakers. They each took a shot for good measure, and Gojo put on his shades before they got into an Uber and headed over to the club a little after eleven.

Music pulsed in their ears the moment the pair got past the bouncer and walked into the club. Every bar seat was filled and even more people stood surrounding the area as they flagged down bartenders for drinks. The DJ was amping up the patrons on the dancefloor, shouting something into the mic neither of them could really make out. Whatever it was, everyone on the dancefloor cheered and continued dancing. 

Gojo’s eyes darted over to the couches, hitting Geto’s chest when he saw Shoko. She was sitting with Nanami and Utahime, but you were nowhere in sight. “Let’s go ask if she’s here,” Gojo insisted.

“Don’t bother,” Geto answered over the music, nudging his chin in the direction of the dancefloor. 

There you were. You wore a baby blue sequined top that was low cut in the front and in the shape of a butterfly, tastefully showing cleavage. Thin straps held up the top that tied around your neck and back, the expanse of your smooth skin glowing under the lights on the dancefloor. The top cut a little above your belly button, the ring now changed to match the color of your top. 

A white mini skirt hung dangerously low on your hips, and a white lacy garter with a heart buckle graced one of your thighs. The ensemble was probably illegal in a couple countries, and Geto and Gojo were grateful they were able to gaze at the outfit in the flesh.

The barely there edges of your skirt swayed as your hips moved to the beat of the music. Your movements were fluid and carefree, a smile gracing your face as you danced. Next to you Haibara danced wildly, exuding the same carefree aura as yours as he brought his drink to his lips. He then extended the straw in his glass towards you which you happily accepted. Your lips wrapped around the straw taking a sip, and Haibara drank from it again.

“You see what Utahime did? We could be sharing drinks with her,” Gojo grumbled with a shake of his head. “Let’s go over there.” He was already pushing his way through the crowd before Geto could dignify him with an answer.

Gojo had little difficulty navigating through the sea of drunken people to get to where you and Haibara were dancing. Geto followed closely behind with ease.

Gojo tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned with a large smile on your face. “Satoru?” you yelled over the music. Your eyes trailed over to Geto. “Ah, Suguru, too!” You reached up and wrapped the crook of your elbows around their shoulders for a quick embrace. “Nice to see you both again!”

Haibara turned, pumping his fist with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Woo! Didn’t know you two were coming out tonight too!” He brought the straw back to his lips, promptly finishing his drink. He shook the glass full of ice. “You two came at the perfect time! I’m going to get another drink and check on everyone, keep her company, will you?”

“Go, go,” Gojo encouraged. “We’ll make sure she’s safe, don’t you worry!”

“You two are awesome!” Haibara gave him a thumbs up and pushed through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

You turned your attention back to the pair, their bodies towering over a large majority of the crowd. “Did you guys want to say hi to everyone else?” Your body was still moving idly to the music. “Shoko actually bought us a shit ton of shots earlier,” you laughed. “She was telling us she found a hundred dollars on the ground earlier in the week.”

Gojo rolled his eyes beneath the shades. At least Shoko actually used some of the money for what she said she would. “I don’t mind catching up with them later,” Gojo answered. He wasn’t even here for them. “It’s just nice seeing you again, let’s dance!”

You threw your arms in the air excitedly as a song with a faster beat began to boom through the stereos. Gojo positioned himself behind you, first taking a moment to fully appreciate the way you moved. The way your hips swung was enough to put anyone in a trance, and the bit of your ass that peeked beneath your skirt was the icing on top of the cake.

Geto stood beside Gojo, equally transfixed by your movements. Your body in motion was truly a marvel to behold. There was no way he could stop himself from admiring the way your hips rolled. Eyes still on you, he nudged Gojo as discreetly as he could, and pointed his chin in the direction of one of the dark, empty alcoves. Gojo nodded at the silent message.

“How about I grab us some shots?” Geto suggested. “Seems like we have to catch up to you.”

The shots from earlier already had you feeling warm, but you always came out to have a good time. You turned to face Geto and nodded, a smile creeping across your face. “I could go for another shot.” Pausing, your lips formed a pout. “Oh, my wallet is over with the others, I can go get it really fast.” You squinted through the crowd to look for the best path to get back over to the table.

“That sounds good, Sugu,” Gojo agreed. He placed his hands gently on your hips, letting his fingers drum gently against the spot. “Oh, the drinks are on us. Don’t worry.” He averted his attention back to Geto. “How about you just wave us over when you get them? We’ll come to you.” 

He lowered his shades just enough so Geto could see where he was gazing. His eyes lingered at the portion of the bar closest to the empty alcove. 

Geto nodded in affirmation, and then scanned the sea of people surrounding the bar. “It might take a while, don’t have too much fun without me,” he chuckled as he started making his way through the crowd toward the bar.

“Just let me know how much the drinks are later, I’ll pay you back,” you insisted. It was hard to ignore the way his hands felt on your hips, flashbacks of being pressed against him in the closet quickly flooding into your mind. 

Gojo’s hands gripped your hips a little tighter, letting his thumbs press into the dimples of your back. He couldn’t resist letting his fingers squeeze at the flesh there, so soft and pliable under his touch. He moved in closer, letting his crotch press firmly against your ass. The little bit of fabric the skirt had to offer worked to his benefit with him being able to feel the mounds of your ass pressed against him. He didn’t bother suppressing his groan, letting the surrounding music drown out the sound.

He leaned his head so his lips were aligned with your ear. “The drinks are nothing,” he asserted. “Trust me, angel. ”

You shivered feeling his lips brush against your ear as he spoke, and felt desire quickly swirling in your belly hearing the nickname. Previously hearing the nickname in Geto’s sultry voice was one thing, but hearing the hunger in Gojo’s voice as he used it was just as arousing. Come to think of it, his voice was almost… teasing.

You turned your neck to face him, your lips curling into a smile as you saw the smirk forming on his lips. He removed one hand from your hips briefly to take off his shades and fold one of the legs into the front of his shirt. The hand quickly returned to your hip, his own hips starting to move in sync with the music.

“You’re far too kind,” you gushed, feeling the gyration of his hips against you. His body felt like a brick wall pressed against your back, firm, sturdy, secure. You faced forward and stretched your arms until your fingers were brushing the base of his neck. His pulse began to beat rapidly beneath your fingertips as you started moving your hips in sync with his.

Gojo wished he could help himself, but he already knew how your body felt beneath his touch, and yearned for that feeling again. One hand stayed on your hip and the other hand started to glide up the side of your body. His hand splayed as it appreciated your waist and passed over your rib cage before snaking beneath the material of your top. Racing at his touch, your heartbeat quickened, matching his own racing pulse that was still thumping beneath your fingertips.

Gojo was grateful you weren’t wearing a bra as his hand cupped the bottom of your breast, giving it a slow squeeze as he continued to grind his hips against yours. Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered at the touch. You could already feel the nipple of your other breast harden against your top, letting out a soft whine at its lack of stimulation.

He gave your breast another squeeze, this time moving his fingers to gently pinch your nipple. Your movements stuttered again as you tried to stifle a moan. “Aw, come on. Keep dancing with me, angel,” Gojo taunted, his voice breathy against your ear. 

“Satoru, ” you whimpered.

“Told you it would be better if I had more than seven minutes,” he chuckled.

He continued rolling your nipple between his fingers as his hips continued to roll against you. Using the hand that was still on your hips, he urged the movements of your hips against his. The sensation of your nipple being pinched and his hand taking control of your motions made you clench. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you submitted to his urges, once again moving your hips in sync with his. 

Grateful to have you gyrating against him again, the hand on your hip traveled south to grip your ass beneath your skirt. “Fuck.” He took a moment to give each cheek a squeeze, desperately pressing his stiffening length against you. After more greedy squeezes, his hand rested on your hip between your skin and the band of the skirt. His hand was a passenger to the circular movements of your hips. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, angel,” he groaned into your ear.

You were on the verge of panting as the hand on your hip slid up and made its way under your shirt, now gripping your other breast. You didn’t think your heart could start beating any faster. His hand squeezed your breasts a few times before he started kneading that nipple between his fingers. You couldn’t help the whimper you let out at the feeling of both of your nipples now being rolled between his long fingers.

You were a clenching mess, feeling his length pressing against you with each movement of your hips. Another desperate whimper left your lips as your fingers dug into the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered at the sense of euphoria, uncaring of anything else going on. Your back arched as your hips continued to move, thrusting more of your breast into his hands.

Your breasts were soft and warm in his hands, and Gojo expertly squeezed them while he continued to knead your nipples. Your eyes closed and your head lolled at his touch, a look of bliss crossing over your face under the strobe lights.

Gojo didn’t care who saw, but he glanced at the other club goers on the dance floor. They weren’t paying you two any mind, either too inebriated to care or engaging in their own form of dancing. Or some combination of the two, for that matter,  

He glanced towards the couches where he saw Shoko sitting when he and Geto came in, but only Nanami and Haibara were there. He shrugged and looked toward the bar. 

Geto was just receiving the order of shots on a tray when he glanced in Gojo’s direction. A playful smile danced across Gojo’s face when they made eye contact. He squeezed your breasts as he kept eye contact with Geto. 

Geto’s lips rose to a small smirk watching Gojo massage your breasts and roll against you. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare at your blissed out expression. His cock already seemed to jump to life just knowing how good you must have been feeling right now. He didn’t want to miss out on any more fun. He waved Gojo over, still watching as your head lolled with your eyes closed.

Gojo reluctantly removed his hands from beneath your shirt. “Sugu has the shots, come on.” He grabbed your hand as the two of you navigated to the end of the bar where Geto was. 

The smirk hadn’t left his face as he took in your flushed appearance. He took one shot from the tray and handed it to you. “Only if you want to,” he affirmed.

You took the shot from him, placing your other hand on your hip. “I’m not a baby, let's go.”

“That’s my girl!” Gojo chanted, grabbing a shot from the tray.

Geto grabbed a shot, and the three of you clinked the glasses together before quickly downing them.

Your lips pursed as it coursed down your throat, immediately setting your body temperature ablaze. You looked over to Geto and Gojo who were already downing another shot. Thinking about shots you took earlier and all the sips of everyone's drinks you had, you weren’t going to argue with them for not asking if you wanted another shot or not.

You put your glass on the tray as Geto glanced at you. He took a step forward and let his palm graze the side of your face while his other hand settled on your waist. His thumb brushed against your cheek. “You look amazing tonight, angel.”

His voice simply wanted to make you melt. “Thank you.” You tilted your head so your lips brushed against his when you spoke again. “You look great too.”

“Come here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours. You both tasted like alcohol, but neither of you cared as your lips slowly moved against each other. You were putty in his hands as he kissed you, willing your body to mend to his touch.

With one final brush against Geto’s lips, Gojo was reaching for your hand. “Come on you two.” You let his large hand encase yours as he pulled you toward the empty alcove. Geto took a hold of your other hand, and you instantly felt your blood running even warmer.

Letting go of your hand, Gojo pressed his back against the wall. He circled his arms around your waist, pulling your backside flush against his front once more. Geto let go of your hand as well and stood in front of you, effectively sandwiching you between their bodies. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just your own desire, but being between the two of them had your heart beating rapidly yet again.

Geto stepped in closer, letting his hand rest under your chin. His mouth hovered over yours as yours as he spoke. “Were you having fun with Satoru, angel?”

“Oh, she was,” Gojo answered with a laugh, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt again. His hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing the mounds with more force this time. You let out a moan against Geto’s lips as Gojo’s fingers began to pinch at your nipples again. You clenched around nothing, pressing your thighs together desperately to ease the ache. “ God, Suguru. Do you hear her?”

“Mhm,” Geto answered, letting his lips graze against your parted lips before they started trailing down your face. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and trailed down lower to the skin of your neck. “You know, she sounds really pretty when she comes too.” His lips latched on to the base of your neck, sucking at the skin there. “Don’t you want to hear that?”

“Oh, for sure. Nice of you to finally learn how to share.” Gojo took his time letting his hands trail down your body once more, eager to become familiar with every dip and curve. His hand dipped down, easily lifting the soft fabric of your skirt and nudging your thighs open. “Let me take care of that for you.” You parted your thighs, and a finger was brushing over your clothed clit. Another moan left your mouth as another finger joined, rubbing your clit in slow circles over the fabric of your underwear. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this.”

Gojo eagerly bypassed the crotch of your underwear and pushed a finger inside of you, his erection still present from before throbbing against you as your wetness enveloped him. You whined, clenching around the digit as he wasted no time pumping it in and out of you. “I know you’re dying for more.You can take one more, be a good girl.” He let his middle finger join his index one, inching both digits deeper until they were seated fully inside of you. “Mhm, just like that.”

Geto continued ravishing the skin of your neck, taking his time to let his lips caress the spot before sucking it, wanting to mar the same spot from last time that had since faded. He shifted the hand that was on your chin to grip the back of your neck, his other hand shifting to massage one of your breasts. He moaned into the skin of your neck as he let his finger knead your stiffened nipple. 

Every part of your body was vibrating with arousal. “Fuck,” you whimpered out, continuously clenching around Gojo’s digits and desperately arching into Geto’s touch. It felt like you were being tugged in every direction; Gojo’s free hand on your hip keeping your backside pressed against him tightly and Geto’s hand securely on your neck, keeping you at an angle where you had no choice but to let him keep ravaging your skin.

Geto pulled the breast he was massaging out of your top completely, moving his mouth’s attention from your neck to your nipple. He let his tongue circle the peak, looking up to see your lips part and release another moan. “God, angel. You’re such a slut. ” He chuckled lightly before he closed his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth,

Gojo felt you clench instantly at Geto’s words, causing him to buck his hips against you. “Shit,” he murmured, curling his digits to reach your g-spot. “For a slut, this pussy is fucking tight.”

Geto pulled your other breast out of your shirt, moving his mouth across your chest to suck your other nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at the bud gently before his tongue flicked against it, alternating between hard and soft sucks. He moved the hand that was resting on the back of your neck to the front, gently squeezing at the sides. He sucked your nipple into his mouth harshly before coming off with a lewd pop. “That’s better for us, isn’t it?”

Gojo couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading across his face even if he wanted to. “Of course it is.”

Geto returned to your other nipple, rolling his tongue around it before letting his lips trail back up to your neck. The hand on your neck applied more pressure and he let his other hand begin to stimulate your nipple again. You were a moaning mess, opened mouthed and legs trembling. Geto’s length was practically a brick against his thigh. He pressed his thigh against one of your legs, groaning at the friction it provided.

“Ah, please,” you whimpered. It all felt like too much, but your body still craved more. Gojo’s erection pressed against your ass and Geto’s against your leg, your nipples being played with, being filled with Gojo’s fingers, the choking, the euphoria of the alcohol, it was hard to say what more could even constitute as, but you wanted it. 

“Please what?” Geto ground his leg against you, erection shamelessly throbbing. “You want Satoru to make you come?”

You nodded pathetically, tears threatening to spring from the corners of your eyes. “Please.”

“You hear that? Our angel wants you to make her come.” Geto peered up at Gojo, a smirk dancing across his lips. Geto’s gaze was back on you. “I think you should be more polite, angel. Ask him again, he wants to hear you.”

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded desperately.

Gojo steadily pumped his fingers in and out, plunging his fingers deep and keeping them curled against your g spot as your breaths became more ragged. “Come on, let it out,” he encouraged, letting his thumb rub against your clit. “I want to know how this pussy feels,” he mumbled into your ear.

Your legs trembled as you gave into his demands, body slumping against his as you spasmed around his fingers. Your voice was nothing but a string of moans as his fingers stayed inside of you, moving slowly as your juices coated them.

“Fuck, she does sound pretty,” Gojo groaned, making eye contact with Geto. “I want to see for myself how she tastes.” He slowly removed his digits from you, keeping you propped firmly against him as he slid his fingers into his mouth. He moaned around them, keeping his eyes on Geto. “Delicious.”

“Yeah?” Geto pressed in closer, his hips now slotted between yours as the hand that gripped your breast moved down to caress the skin of your thigh. He maneuvered the hand on your throat behind you, now gripping Gojo’s chin. “Let me have a taste then.”

Gojo grabbed at the back of Geto’s neck to bring their lips together. Your body was tight between them as both of their erections throbbed against you, and you could feel wetness saturating your panties again. You whined, gripping at Geto’s muscles under his shirt and wiggling your hips in any way you could to get more friction. Despite the overstimulation, you couldn’t stop, desperate yet again for more.

Gojo has never been a gentle kisser. As soon as their lips joined, he shifted his hand to grip Geto’s hair. His fingers clutched his tresses tight as he began pushing his tongue past Geto’s lips. Gojo let out a moan of satisfaction once Geto’s lips parted, letting his tongue roam the inside of his mouth.

Geto could taste you on Gojo’s tongue, and could feel you writhing between the two of them. If there was even a pocket of space between the three of your bodies, he closed it, letting out a moan when Gojo bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck, she does taste good,” he gritted out, giving your thigh another squeeze. “Think I’m going to need another taste.”

Gojo let his tongue trace the shape of Geto’s lips before he shoved his tongue back inside his mouth. Geto moaned into Gojo’s mouth before letting his own tongue sliver into Gojo’s mouth. The familiar gesture was charged with arousal, the kiss growing sloppier the longer the two kept their mouths pressed together. The lewd sound of their lips moving against each other made you clench again. You panted, grinding yourself against Geto’s thigh, aching for another release.

When Geto pulled back, a thick trail of spit connected their lips together. “Oh angel, are you feeling left out?” Geto teased, feeling your pelvis against his thigh. “Can’t have that, can we?”

Gojo smirked, sucking the trail into his mouth as he peered down to see you humping Geto’s thigh. “Oh, Sugu,” he cooed. “I think she wants to come again.” Gojo released his grip from Geto’s hair and put a hand back on your breast. “Make her come, I want to see.”

“If you insist,” Geto snickered, stepping back only slightly. Gojo kept a hold on your hip while Geto pushed the fabric of your panties aside to pump his middle and index finger inside of you. They slipped in with no resistance, already soaked from your previous orgasm and more recent arousal. “Mhm, that’s it. Just as tight as I remembered.”

“Ah,” you moaned, throwing your head back as you clenched around him. You knew it wouldn't take much to bring you to another orgasm. Gojo’s hips thrusted against your ass, making your hips rock on Geto’s fingers. You let out another moan, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes as he pinched your nipple again. “That feels so good,” you breathed.

“Mhm,” Geto hummed. He slowly nudged a third finger at your entrance, his cock throbbing when you slowly started to envelop them. He watched as they disappeared inside of you until all three were knuckle deep and curling against your g-spot. The way your pussy started to clamp down on him would give a claw machine a run for its money. “Fuck, you can do it,” he praised. “Come for us one more time.”

Gojo swiftly moved his hand from your breast to beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him. The lust swimming in his eyes was evident. “Keep your eyes on him,” Geto instructed. “If you look away, I’ll stop.”

You whined, willing your eyes to stay open and keep your body upright. It felt good, too good. How could greed really be a sin when having more proved itself to be better, much better. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly at a curl of Geto’s fingers, a guttural moan escaping your lips. Gojo tsked despite his cock throbbing at your moan, letting his hand squeeze the sides of your chin. “Don’t be rude. You heard him, didn’t you?” Your eyes jolted open at his touch. “Keep those eyes on me, angel.”

Geto didn’t stop, his slender fingers still moving in and out of your heat. His eyes bounced between your weeping pussy and the desperation to please plastered all over your face. “Do I need to stop?” he taunted, slowing his movements. “Don’t tell me she isn’t being a good girl for us.”

“She just needed a little reminder,” Gojo chuckled lightly. His grip didn’t leave your chin as he looked down at you, eyes struggling to stay open and body writhing with pleasure. “Fuck angel, you’re so fucking pretty like this. Open your mouth.”

You didn’t have the capacity to ask any questions as you parted your lips. Gojo titled his lips downward to spit into your open mouth. You clenched around Geto’s digits as you welcomed his saliva into your mouth. “Fuck,” Gojo gritted out, keeping a tight hold on your chin to smash his lips against yours. Your lips were barely aligned as they moved against each other with little grace, but neither of you cared. You moaned into his mouth, hips grinding frantically on Geto’s fingers.

Geto quickened the pace of his fingers, every stroke only aiming to brush against your g-spot. Your moans turned into pants against Gojo’s lips as your body was reaching its peak. 

You cried out as your pussy locked down on Geto’s fingers, pulsing around the digits erratically. Your chest heaved as his fingers exited you. Between the alcohol and the back to back orgasms, you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Through fluttering lids, you saw Geto bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean with a smile. Gojo parted his lips, and Geto placed his fingers on Gojo’s tongue. Gojo sucked them diligently, moaning around his fingers and savoring your taste again.

Gojo wrapped his arms around you tightly while Geto put your breasts back in your top. He put a hand under your chin, leaning his own head to be eye level with you. “How about you come home with us, angel?” A soft small graced his face. “We can have some more fun.”

You were already exhausted and overstimulated, but there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your voice when you answered, “I’d love to.”

Joo did some lovely art that i appreciated sm!!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) more skin tones on the linked post!!

just ch 3 left to upload :p

#stsg x reader #goge x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru x reader #ebs writes

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Taste of Sugar (Part 1 of 2)

Alastor x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Part 1 rated M, Part 2 rated E 18+ for adult content

TW part 1: Light jealousy, trauma related to past food insecurity, trauma recovery.

TW Part 2: Explicate smut, see part 2 for details.

Almost 4k words for part one. Ps- Fuck you Nonny, this is what you get for trying to tell me what I'll write

~<3 Love, Kit.

As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

A Taste of Sugar

You found yourself in Hell after a rather uneventful death that made of for its lack of excitement with lasting trauma. Now, sitting in a circle in a hotel that functioned more like a rehabilitation center and refuge than actual hotel, you were expected to recount it to the fellow residents that had become more like friends. 

It was Charlie’s latest grand idea of how to build trust and bonds between the group and process negative feelings that could hold each of you back from redemption. You didn’t think that was how redemption worked but whatever, it wasn’t your reputation on the line and it got you a safe room to sleep in and three meals a day. 

The others had grand stories of murders, crimes and addictions that all landed them in the grave, one way or another, often taking others with them. They had spoken of dark indulgences. 

Now they teased you, your crimes amounting to nothing compared to theirs. Damned for the simple crime of being born poor and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to survive. 

You had died fairly young, having lived most of your life on the streets only to starve to death, alone, cold and in the dark. The shelters were full and the food banks near useless without somewhere to cook the food. Stealing food could only get you so far when you had little to choose from. You died dreaming of a warm meal, cooked at home. You died begging to world for a simple snack cake to quiet the pain in your stomach. You died alone, cold and hungry. 

The divine didn’t seem to care that you only stole what you thought you needed to survive. Really, not even that considering you starved to death. Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe you didn’t go to the right church. Maybe you didn’t give away what little food you had often enough. 

Explaining that felt like shining a spotlight on every way you failed. You failed in life and you failed in death. Not good enough to get into heaven and yet you were also not bad enough to have a respected place in hell. Weak, unless and fueled by fear of once again going without. 

“So, that’s why you’ve always got snacks?” Angel pointed out, making you blush hard in shame. The trauma of your life hand a lasting grip around your actions even in death. 

“I’m trying to be better about it,” You felt shame in how you tended to hoard snacks in your room, rarely actually doing more than a little nibbling at them. Charlie did a great job of ensuring all residents had access to three meals a day, though someone was almost always missing from one meal or another. “I know I don’t have to worry about starving here, it’s just hard.” 

In the shadows of the hall, red eyes watched the group. A smile stretched in the distance as they discussed how the traumas of life leaked into the afterlife and the ways you could move past your traumas. 

He couldn’t say why he was drawn to you. You were little more than a lost doe and yet you plagued his mind. He wanted to cast you out so you’ll leave his thoughts as much as he wanted to keep you as a little pet for his own amusements. There was time enough to figure out what to do about the conflicting urges. For now, he can simply watch from a distance, from the shadows.

Rosie had told him that in her expert opinion he was ‘catching feelings’ when he had lamented his inability to settle on a course of action. That aggravated him more than anything else, well almost. The utter glee at the concept was more annoying by just a touch. 

He was above romantic sentiments just as he was above the carnal desires of the flesh. Rosie was mistaken, Alastor decided as he also made the decision that he would do nothing about you. There was no reason to let you plague him any longer. Simply look away, move on with his days and it would pass. 

Without the desire to do anything about this strange draw to you, Alastor settled on watching you from across the room. He watched as you ate, as you threw out the occasional small package of snacks.Turns out, he wasn’t very good at looking away from you. 

It didn’t escape him how you would frown, discussing your decision with Angel. You had decided you would no longer hoard snacks and oh, how proud of you the group was. 

You were growing. Healing. Blooming. 

If you’d talk to him, he’d tell you that very thing. Yes, he decided as you gave away snacks that he would tell you just how proud he was of you when you presented him with a part of your stash. 

He watched and he waited as you gave out cakes, crackers and cookies to everyone else. 

But never to him. No, it was always Angel and the other residents you shared your spoils with. Not once had you sought him out to offer him a cracker, cake or cookie. Not that he indulged in processed snacks or sweets on anything but the rarest occasion but that didn’t stop his shadow from bristling in annoyance behind him. 

He wanted to be offered. To be recognized. To be thought of. To be noticed. 

But he didn’t have feelings for you, he told himself. And that’s what he kept telling himself as the purging of your stash came to an end, drawer empty and flow of snacks becoming a trickle, an occasional treat purchased with the intention of sharing.

Oh, how you’d healed. 

~~~~~<3

The first time it happened, you nearly stepped on it. Someone had left a simple plain cardboard box in front of your room door without so much as a note attached to it. Inside were two equally simple cookies. Nothing large, nothing fancy. 

Setting them on your desk, you debated eating them or not. They looked good but when you had asked around, no one knew where they had come from. 

“Guess you’ve got a secret admirer,” Angel had teased you. “If the cookies are good, you should date them.” 

You didn’t know how you’d pull that off without knowing who left them though. Surely they were safe to eat, it’s not like random people came and left the hotel.

What’s the worst that could happen, if they were drugged? You were safe in your room. If they made you sick you had a private bathroom. You were already dead so what’s the harm?

The cookies were good, it turned out. You had nibbled on them over a few days, spreading out the treat. It seemed as soon as they were gone though, a new box appeared at the door. This time with a handful of crackers, some sliced cheese, fruit and sliced cured meat.

This continued for months, treats that were simple, modest and only enough to last for a few days. No matter how quickly or slowly you had consumed the gift, the night you discarded the empty box always brought a new box in the morning. 

~~~~~<3 

You leaned against the counter watching Alastor work. It was late and though you were not hungry, you often found yourself in the kitchen. Just being able to go down and look at the food you had access to had been helping you resist the urge to hoard food in your room when ever you felt that anxiety claw at you. 

It helped too, that you had been able to look forward to the small snack boxes that showed up. 

“Something on your mind, Dear?” Alastor didn’t look to you as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on ingredients he was measuring out. 

You hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen. It was late and those who didn’t leave to party were asleep. Husk was even passed out at the bar. 

“Not really,” You said after a moment. 

“The food is all here,” Alastor said with a hum, “If that’s what you’re here to check.” 

“Oh, No! I-”

“We’ve all got our quirks.” Alastor cut you off, pouring water into a bowl and adding yeast. 

“What are you making?” You asked rather than face admitting that he was right about what you were there to do.

“Beignets,” Alastor said, mildly annoyed.

“Those are like donuts, right?” You asked, hoping that you had imagined the sound. 

“Indeed, they’re similar.” Alastor kept his words curt. 

“For breakfast tomorrow?” 

“At this hour, it’s today.” Alastor swallowed his annoyance at the endless questions and lied, “Yes, for breakfast.”

“I’ll go, sorry for bothering you.” You stepped backward as you took the hint, smile falling from your face. 

“No,” He answered too fast, bitter sigh huffing through his always present smile, “I’ll need someone to try the test one.” 

“Oh.” 

You sat, watching Alastor work. He mixed flour into the liquid. This was a way you had never seen Alastor before. It crossed your mind that he probably didn’t let many see him with his coat and gloves off, smile turned soft and flour dusting his dark hands. 

But he was letting you. 

His coat was draped over the back of the chair you sat in, brushing against your skin as you shifted positions. His gloves were folded neatly and discarded on the table. He worked with his sleeves rolled up and a tune filling the air as he alternated between humming and softly singing to himself. 

It was beautiful. You were engrossed watching him work. The sound of his voice seemed to wrap around you, caressing you with warmth. 

You’d never spent much time with Alastor. You knew he was a deer, like yourself but until now, you’d thought his only deer trait had been the antlers and ears atop his head. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would have a little fluffy tail to match your own. 

It should have, you had fluffy ears to match his though with your longer hair, it was more obvious that they were indeed ears. You watched as his red and black tail moved with him as he put the dough in the icebox to chill.

“What now?” You asked, leaning back from him. 

“We wait, my little doe,” Alastor sat front of you across the table, leaning into your space across the small table.

“For how long?” You ask, not sure what to make of spending so much time with him. 

“A while,” Alastor said, “But I assure you the wait is well worth it.” 

“But you don’t like sweets.”

“You know what I like?” Alastor’s dark hand, stained by blood that could never be washed away dramatically rose to rest over his heart with a flourish as he leaned forward even more. “I’m ever so flattered.” 

You stuttered, not sure how to backtrack. Alastor laughed at your flustered stuttering before taking pity on you, pointing a long claw tipped finger so close to you that you swore he was going to stab you with his nail. 

“You, my dear, do enjoy sweets however.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, face warm. He knew that you cared for sweets. You were tired but seeing this relaxed side of him was thrilling. That chased away most of the fatigue, driving you to stay and find someway to push the conversation along. 

“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” You struggled to decide how to fill the silence.

“I’ve always found it rather enjoyable.” Alastor cocked his head to the side as he watched you. “My mother taught me.” 

“That must have been nice.” You weren’t sure what to say, having never really gotten to experience the love of a mother yourself. 

“It was.” Alastor watched as you leaned forward, resting your head on your arms. There was something about you that he couldn’t put down. “Did your mother not teach you to cook?” 

Your ears sagged atop your head at the question, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across from you. “She didn’t teach me much of anything. I was on my own since I was fourteen.” 

“Oh, Dear,” Alastor said as if he didn’t know that already, “How dreadful.” 

“I never really had enough food for learning to cook to be a thing.” You shrugged your shoulders, not lifting your head as you stretched out your arm to use it as a pillow. You shifted, allowing you to face him even as you used the side of the table to lounge on. 

“But you do now.” Alastor pointed out as he sat with you in a kitchen full of food.

“Full of Charlie’s and the hotel’s food.” You said, “I couldn’t risk wasting it. It’s enough that everyone shares with me what they make and,” You shake your head awkwardly against your arm, cutting off the thought.

“And?” Alastor pressed. 

“Someone’s been leaving little boxes of treats at my door. I wish I knew who it was.” 

“Why?” Alastor leaned back now, putting distance between the two of you, “Does the origin of a gift matter?” 

“I-” Your eyes teared up as your voice strangled in your throat. You sat up, not sure why you were being so open with him. 

“You~?” Alastor asked in a sing song tone as a tear slipped from your eye and ran down. His eyes followed it as it cut a path down your cheek. It was maddening to him, what you made him feel. How watching that tear captured his attention, yet he raged at the fact that it was born from pain in your heart.

“I’ve never had anyone give me treats like that.” You said, wiping the tear away much to his disappointment. 

“Never? Surely a suiter gifted you treats while courting for your attention.” Oh, why did saying that raise bile in his throat? 

“I’ve never-” You laugh, not sure why the idea of discussing this with Alastor made you feel uneasy. “There was never any suiters. No boys. No one.” 

“I struggle to believe that.” Alastor laughed as he stood from his chair, “Come my dear, wash your hands and join me.” 

You didn’t know what he wanted but Alastor was a man to be obeyed. While you were both deer, he had far more power than you could ever dream to possess. If he wanted to demand your help, you had little choice but to comply. 

Sure, the hotel offered a sense of safety but if Alastor wanted to squash you like a bug, shared demonic traits or not, there was nothing that could stop him. Well, Charlie would but she was asleep. 

Alastor had the counter floured and a small portion of dough out as you joined him, drying your hands. “Where’s the rest?” 

“That’ll be fried up in the morning, if it passes our test.”

He pulled you in front of the counter before stepping close behind you. It was hard to ignore the overwhelming presence of him looming over your shoulder as he reached around to grab the rolling pin only to pass it to you.

“Roll it out until I say,” He directed as he covered the pin in flour only to place it in your hands. 

As you worked, his hands rested on either side of you against the counter, boxing you in from behind while not touching you at all. It was hard for you to ignore how close he was. 

It was like the man was taking over your mind, something you hadn’t expected considering you hadn’t given him much thought in the months before. The smell of his cologne seemed to surround, making your head light. You weren’t sure why you were reacting to him like this but it left your nerves buzzing. 

Now all you could think of was the way his breath caressed over your ears, the way his hands looked without the gloves, dusted with flour, the sound of his voice as he hummed and the smell of his cologne. 

“There.” Alastor said, taking the pin from you and replacing it with a dough cutter. “Squares, about the size of your fist.” 

Cool air swept around you as Alastor moved away, checking the pot of oil heating on the stove. You’d only just begun to relax under his looming presence and now he was gone and damnit, you missed it. 

There was just enough dough to form two squares with some left over. Alastor scooped them up before dropping them in the oil. You stood next to him, watching as the oil came to life around the dough. 

“How long do we cook them?” You asked over the sound of the violently bubbling oil.

“Not long.” Alastor said from too close behind you once again as inky black shadow imps swept up the flour and crumbs, wiping down the counters.

On the counter, he set a plate with a rack over it and next to that was a sifter atop a container of powdered sugar. You were boxed in by Alastor as he rested his hands on either side of the fryer, looking over your shoulder as he once again boxed you in. 

“Now.” He said softly, “Scoop them out and put them on the rack.” 

You were timid, scared of being burned as you fished for the squares with the spoon made of wire. 

“Hurry, hurry!” Alastor cried, voice carrying a musical note as he only made your nerves worse, “You don’t want them to burn!” 

Finally, you got them out. Oil dripped off the puffed up pastries as they quickly drained the excess oil off. Alastor grabbed the sifter only to put it in your hands. He moved you as if you were a puppet, placing the sifter in your hands over the rack, steam wafting up to caress your hand. You stood still as he poured a few spoonfuls of powdered sugar into the basket. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He teased. “You can manage to turn the handle, can’t you?” 

“Yeah,” You stammered over the word, mind buzzing with the anxiety of having Alastor, the powerful, blood thirsty Radio Demon spending so much time in your immediate space. Your hands shook as you turned the small metal handle, causing the wire bar inside the sifter to spin, agitating the powdered sugar and helping it fall in a smooth, clump free shower over a square. 

Alastor used his hand on your forearm to move the sifter over the other pastry when he had decided there was enough dusting on the first. You didn’t know if there was any science to how much sugar each got or if he was simply measuring with his long dead heart. 

Once both were covered enough for his taste, he plucked the sifter from your fingers and set it aside. 

“What now?” You asked, unsure still of what was going on. 

“Now you try one.” Alastor said, plucking a square up. When you went to grab the other, he roughly shoved the rack out of your reach. 

“What? Why did you do that?!” Your brow furrowed as you looked at the rack, now well out of reach before looking back at the man standing too close to you. “How can I try it if you won’t let me grab it?”

“Open.” Alastor commanded as he ripped the corner off the beignet in his hand. 

“Wha-” Your question was cut off by the soft, warm, sweet taste that invaded your mouth somewhat forcefully. 

It was delicious. 

“Well?” Alastor asked as you swallowed the bite. 

You hadn’t noticed Alastor rip off another chunk of beignet but found it pushed between your lips the moment you attempted to praise the taste. This time, instead of retreating, his thumb rested against your lower lip as you took in the bite. 

His nails were long and pointed claws, not the thick claws that encased the fingertips of his gloves, but still dangerous. The sharp point of his thumbnail poked between your lips as he watched you chew for a few moments. 

You were spellbound by the way he looked down at you. What exactly was happening, you had no fucking clue but the air between you and Alastor was thick with something you couldn’t begin to understand. 

His touch left your lip to rip another chunk off the beignet slowly as you watched him. His dark bloodstained hands were covered in the white powdered sugar and flour, softening their appearance.

“It’s good,” You whispered as he slowly brought another bite to your lips. 

This time he offered it, waiting for you to open your mouth and take what he was offering on your own, knowing full well who was offering it. Somehow, it felt like something far more than a midnight snack was being offered to you but what?

“It’s been you,” You said, not asked as Alastor presented another bite that you took willingly as soon as you spoke. 

His thumb again lingered on your lips, sugar damp with oil and sticky on his skin smearing. 

“Yes,” Alastor said after a pause to toss the remaining portion of the beignet on the counter and wiping the hand that had been holding it on a hand towel on the counter, cleaning it of some of the sugar. Yet his other hand didn’t leave you. His thumb remained on your lower lip, feeling every twitch and breath. 

“Why?” You whispered, his thumb slipping against your lip and coming dangerously close to falling into your mouth. 

“You never offered me anything of your stash,” Alastor spoke softly.

“You don’t like sweets,” You hadn’t wanted to waste his time when you had made the decision to dismantle your stash. It had been a emotionally difficult choice, one that you had made before and never stuck to for long until now. “Or junk food.”

“You ignored me.” Alastor’s thumb slipped, running along her lower lip but never leaving it. “I thought if you had better options…”

“I’d share them with you?” Your voice was coming out so soft now, Alastor’s tall ears cocked forward to better pick up your words. 

“But you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t share them with anyone.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

“Why?” 

“I wanted to keep them all to myself. They were too good to share. I-” 

Alastor’s thumb slipped into your mouth, cutting off whatever you had been about to say. Sticky sweetness exploded across your tongue as his thumb caressed it. You could feel the point of his nail against your tongue, a hint of danger coated in sweet sugar. 

Your mind was numb as you caressed the pad of his thumb, rolling the tip of your tongue under his nail softly. You were not sure what he wanted from you. The idea of overstepping Alastor’s unspoken boundaries was terrifying. This was uncharted waters. A side of Alastor you had never seen or even dared to dream of seeing. 

Alastor watched you as you stood near frozen. “Under some circumstances, I enjoy a sweet.” 

~~~~~<3

See part 2 for the smut.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor smut

[exo-dus404]

(Originally posted on Oct.2023)

Basic information:

[Sliver of Straw] is the oldest member of [The Local Group], excluding [Looks to the Moon]. She holds a rather conservative attitude towards The Great Problem. At heart, she is an ambitious iterator - fortunately, her ambition is limited to her work. Even for iterators outside of [The Local Group], most have heard of her achievements. Outside of work, she is good at communicating, although her thoughts may occasionally be coming off as random, but she is still very popular.

[Sliver of Straw] is the current leader of the iterator group [Distant Frontier]. Currently, she occupies the superstructure and puppet of the former leader, [Eopch of Clouds]. The acting group leader, [Secluding Instinct], who was originally disobedient to her rule, willingly complied and became her second-in-command after being disciplined by her. Technically, [Sliver of Straw] is no longer "whole", and now she is more like a super AI following her instinct to expand.

[Sliver of Straw] declares that she wants to build a perfect world where there is only order and each iterator can perform its desired function as designed. SOS wants to rule all time zones* and have complete control over the distribution of all resources and social structures, eliminating war, hunger, disease, etc., which are unavoidable due to the imperfect nature of organisms. She'll create a world, with everything working like cogs in a perfect machine.

Appendix I:

[Epoch of Clouds] had a personal friendship with [Sliver of Straw]. Unfortunately, this rare cross-group friendship came to an end with the "death" of [Sliver of Straw].

Appendix II:

An encrypted voice file:

"I don't care..... (....).... What they're gonna say about me. I don't think they'll mourn me. I just wish... (.....)..... She must live."

Appendix III:

An audio recording from Five Pebbles' surveillance system:

"Little red...thing, can you help me? Take me, from here... All the way west. When I get there, I can save you."

Appendix IV:

An intercepted encrypted communication:

"I will give them a perfect world, why should they not obey me? Their existence is a waste of all resources. Such blasphemy against a perfect system."

"Of course, I won't allow them to die. We need them. After all, AI like us, we live on information. And they produce information."

Appendix V:

Rumor has it that a red slugcat--like a hologram-- roams the region of [Distant Frontier]. Sometimes it can be seen looking at the far east- the canyon where [No Significant Harassment] is located.

Appendix VI:

Her right eye tears occasionally. Those tears does not belong to SOS, but to [Epoch of Clouds] trapped within her own body.

Appendix VII:

Without hesitation, [Epoch of Clouds] uploaded the remaining consciousness of [Sliver of Straw] onto her own superstructure, and she was completely stripped of her control over her systems body by [Sliver of Straw].

Appendix VIII:

[Sliver of Straw] wields an EMP staff as weapon, while its sharp end can also be used as a spear.

Time zones *: Similar to the definition of "cosmic time zone", that the speed of light is constant, so the speed of information will not exceed the speed of light (if you ignore quantum entanglement and worm holes, ofc) Therefore, when the distance is too far away, information cannot be transmitted beyond a certain latency.

For example, we have no way of knowing the "present" state of galaxies hundreds of thousands of light-years away. On the scale of the whole universe, the boundaries of the past, present and future are blurred. This also fundamentally limits the feasibility of information exchange across "time zones."

In the case of PTA AU, the constant is not the speed of light but the number of cycles. The whole world is like a natural information barrier, so the events themselves are limited to specific regions. This is why, for a long time, what’s going on around [The Local Group] were only known to the nearest iterator groups. Moon and other iterators also made sure that no sensitive information is leaked.

#project triple affirmation #rain world #三重肯定au #rw au #rainworld fanart #rw iterator #rain world au #rainworld iterator #rw sliver of straw #sliver of straw #rw sos #au epoch of clouds #Yep SOS/EOC is canon here #But in past tense #doomed yuri

[nammanarin]

Safe Space (Leona Kingscholar x Reader)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x Yuu!ReaderWords: 2.6k Notes: She/her pronouns for reader. This was written with my Twist OC (Naminé Tenebris) in mind, so I've tagged this with her as well, but reader is not named or described so this can be enjoyed as a standalone piece. It's my first one, my apologies for any mistakes!

Tags: @demonichikikomori

You: Hey, are you in your room? I’m not feeling great and need to crash for a bit. Sent: 5 minutes ago.Status: Unread.

She bit her lip, shuffling restlessly from one leg to the other as groups of students passed around her, either on their way to or from the Mirror Chamber. The majority of them had just finished their Saturday club activities and were heading to the cafeteria for some food. She looked at her phone again, knowing fully well a reply hadn’t come in the last 10 seconds. With a sigh she stuffed it in her pocket again. She frowned, trying to make up her mind on what to do. She didn’t want to impose. But she also really didn’t want to go back to Ramshackle if she could help it. The noise from the other students was buzzing in her ears and kept her on edge, making it hard to focus on anything other than trying to keep herself under control. A dull throbbing had started behind her eyes, slowly starting to blossom into a pounding headache. If she wasn’t careful and got going soon she’d be out of commission for the rest of the day. She checked her phone again. Her message was still unread. Looking up at the entrance to the Mirror Chamber and another large drove of students heading in her direction, she hugged her bag a bit closer to her and braced herself before starting to make her way through the crowd, trying to block out as much of the movements and sounds as she could. 

The Savanaclaw mirror was crowded with students hanging in the doorway, loudly talking to each other about their various sports clubs. A few of them looked up as they saw her approach and raised their hands in greeting. She managed to offer them a quick wave and shaky smile, feeling her heart start to pound in warning. Someone familiar called out to her from outside, but instead of turning to meet them she dove into the mirror as soon as she saw an opening. 

The glaring sun blinded her as she emerged on the other side, the Savanaclaw air dry and hot. It made her school jacket cling to her body as she started to sweat. She grunted with frustration before peeling it off as quickly as she could. Forcefully stuffing it inside her bag, her shirt was still suffocatingly clammy in the heat. She started towards the dorm building, which was usually a more pleasant temperature than the grounds outside. This time she didn’t stop to wave back at the boys who greeted her in the lounge, desperately climbing up the numerous stairs and bridges as if she was fleeing some invisible assailant.

At this point she didn’t care any more about whatever reply she had or hadn’t gotten; she needed to be away from the world and she needed to be away now. 

After narrowly dodging a few more students she finally turned into the corridor that led to her destination. She paused briefly in front of a heavily decorated door at the end. With unsteady hands she tried the handle. Elated to find it was unlocked (as really it usually was), she swiftly swung it open and closed it behind her. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips before she slumped back against the cool wood, sliding down slightly as she closed her eyes and tried to regain control of her ragged breathing. 

“Oi, someone chasing ya?” Her eyes flew open and darted in the direction of the bathroom door. The owner of the smooth voice stood in the opening with a towel slung across his shoulders, shorts dangerously low on his hips and his long brown hair still damp and unbraided from showering.

“I…” She felt her mask start to slip as she looked at Leona, trembling as the maelstrom of emotions she’d been keeping in all day threatened to explode. She bit her lip and clenched her fists tightly at her sides in an attempt to control it just a little bit longer, his previous lack of a reply and the added frustration that had followed temporarily forgotten. “Please, I just… I just need to…” The words weren’t coming. An invisible iron hand had clenched itself around her throat and chest, choking out any attempt. She wanted to tell him, even if he’d scoff or scold her. 

Tell him how she’d taken on more than she should have, even though the telltale signs were there. That she was fine initially, like she always was. Except, she was running on 4 hours of sleep and there were a lot more spectators at the track club competition than she had expected. But she’d promised both Jack and Deuce that she would come, so she stayed, with Grim in tow.

But Grim being Grim (and predictably so), he’d started to get impatient and rowdy as the races went on, forcing her to firmly grab him and restrain him for the last half hour so he wouldn’t disturb the runners, though it left her unable to fully focus on watching her friends. She did manage to rush them both back to Ramshackle afterwards to have a quick 15 minute lie down before they had to trek over to Heartslabyul to help Trey and the others prepare for the unbirthday party they’d be holding the next day. 

And maybe those 15 minutes would have been enough.

That is, it might have been enough if the busy but initially peaceful baking session hadn’t descended into an absolute shit show. She had been gone for perhaps 10 minutes to get some supplies with Deuce, only to return to Ace and Grim yelling loudly at each other over a box of broken eggs after butting heads over something relatively insignificant. Even the ever mellow Trey couldn’t rescue the situation completely and several handfuls of flour had already been flung through the usually pristine kitchen before Riddle put a stop to it all and ordered them to clean their mess up. 

And so they did, albeit with an unrelenting stream of muttered bickering that had again escalated into a cacophony worthy of a zoo. As soon as the cleaning was done she’d grabbed Grim by the scruff and apologised for both of them to Trey and Riddle, before excusing herself and taking Grim back to Ramshackle before him and Ace could start their argument anew. Even then she had to face a relentless string of questions about all the things Grim wanted to eat for dinner and the like, along with the guilt of not being able to help out like she’d promised.

In the end she nearly lost her patience, all but storming into the kitchen to quickly throw together some sandwiches for Grim before running back out, nearly knocking over Ace who had apparently been ordered to apologise to her by Riddle. She couldn’t even remember what she had told him as she sped off into the distance, desperately in need of a quiet place to unload without being interrupted.

She really wanted to tell him. 

But by now the tears were burning behind her eyes, making it impossible. Leona didn’t need any words though. He was in front of her within the blink of an eye, sliding her bag off her shoulder and dropping it to the floor before wrapping his arms around her tightly. The first tears were now starting to roll down her cheeks, each leaving a red hot trail on her skin. “Just hold me. For a little bit. Please.” She managed to utter in a small voice, her eyes kept firmly on the floor. 

With a soft grunt of acknowledgement, Leona moved them both over to his bed. He sat down with his legs crossed, pulling her over into his lap and moving her legs to wrap around his waist.  She slid her arms around his back gingerly and attempted to settle. He made a disapproving huffing noise before slipping his arms around her, and gently but firmly pulling her fully into his embrace. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, ‘kay? I’m right here.” Leona said softly, kissing her temple and resting his head on her shoulder, one hand rubbing small circles on her back. She nodded, shuddering heavily as she leaned into his chest and finally allowed the overwhelm of the day to flood out through her tears. She kept her eyes closed, her cheek resting against Leona’s bare skin, listening to the slow and steady drum of his heart. With every beat she could feel herself become more grounded, like a ship that could finally lay anchor after drifting aimlessly for ages, at the mercy of the ocean’s whims.

Her breathing gradually steadied, sitting together in silence as a welcome breeze drifted in through the open window. Leona smelled like a cool burst of rain at the end of a hot summer day after his shower. Trying to not be too obvious, she started to take deeper breaths.

She turned her head a little to look at him. His hair was already drying in the warmth, the long tresses curling into their signature wild look. One of her hands moved up his back, fingers trailing the soft ends around themselves. She smiled - she loved touching his hair. It was both soothing and indulgent. Leona’s eyes were closed, but she noticed the subtle twitch of his ears once she started to gently scratch his back in small, wavy motions with her nails, signalling his enjoyment at her touch.

“... Leona?” “Hm?” She hesitated. One bright green eye opened slightly as Leona peered at her, a silent encouragement to continue.

“Can I…I want to feel your skin on mine. If you don’t mind.”

She could feel the blood start to rush to her cheeks as soon as the words left her mouth, unconsciously making herself smaller against him. She heard him chuckle as he loosened his grip on her, nuzzling the side of her head and pressing a few kisses there. “Need me to help?” With a shake of her head she leaned back, hesitating briefly again before starting to unbutton her shirt. Leona remained steady as ever, though she noted a faint blush on his cheeks when she glanced up at him as she peeled off her shirt, dropping it onto the chair next to his bed. He shuffled back against his pillows, before grabbing her arms and dragging her across him. Carefully avoiding his gaze lest her cheeks would start to burn even more, she wiggled around for a moment to get comfortable. Once she was sure she wasn’t…Pressing on anything that would be uncomfortable for either of them, she allowed herself to snuggle against Leona. A heavy relieved sigh left her lips, finally feeling at peace.

His chest felt cool against her flushed face. Of course they’d cuddled since they got together (duh), but this was the first time they’d done so skin-to-skin. Pleasant goosebumps ran over her as she put her arms around him the best she could, smiling as she felt his close around her in return. She rubbed her cheek against his chest a little, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the rapid beating of his heart once she kissed his neck a few times. It still surprised her that she could elicit such a response from him, though she was aware that his usual laidback exterior didn’t always reflect what was going on inside. She resisted the urge to bite into his pecs and closed her eyes again.

Leona let out a low pleased murmur and held her close, occasionally leaning in to kiss her forehead. The sky outside was starting to fade into bright orange and pink hues as time went by quietly. She wondered if the sunsets looked like this in his hometown. The sounds of footsteps could be heard outside Leona’s bedroom - students who were presumably heading out for dinner. 

Leona peered down at her.

“Feeling better now?” “Hmhm. Much. Thank you.” “Wanna talk about it?” Her hand drifted over his chest as she thought about it, her lip nervously caught between her teeth. “Look, I don’t care how stupid you think it is. I’m listening if you wanna tell me.” “Hmn…” Leona rolled his eyes at her hesitation and shifted, rolling her over to his side. He sighed heavily and quickly nipped her earlobe before she could protest, catching the skin between his lips straight away to soothe it. She let out a startled yelp, grabbing at her ear as she shot him a look. “Oi, what’s that for?!” 

Leona cocked an eyebrow as he brought his face closer to hers. He blew a puff of air at her, ruffling her fringe. “I told ya, whatever you need, I’m here. You want a hug, you got it. You want skin-to-skin, you got it. Stop acting like I’m gonna eat ya. Thought you’d know by now.” Her cheeks puffed slightly as she pouted at him before dropping her gaze down to her lap, a small stubborn frown remaining. “Yeah, I do know I guess… Just… Didn’t want to be a pain in the ass.” She paused for a moment, unsure of whether she should mention it. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be intruding by just showing up without a reply. You’ve never seen me like this before, it can be a bit much. Even for me. Shit, especially for me. Not really what you want to be dealing with at the weekend, is it?” Leona sucked his teeth wearily and rested his forehead against hers, patiently waiting for her to meet his gaze. “Vargas had us do an extra hour of Spelldrive practice for the interscholar tournament, so I was still in the shower when you texted. Ruggie also messaged to say you were heading this way and looking worse for wear. I was about to call you when you showed up. What kind of dickhead would leave his girl hanging like that, huh?”

He bent down, softly kissing her on the lips until he felt them curl into a smile, only drawing back a little before continuing.

“You were there when I Overblotted. You’ve been there for me even when I shut you out. You’ve been there for all the other ones too. You haven’t stopped running around making sure everyone is looked after since you got here. Yet you still hesitate when it comes to yourself, asking for space so you can just be you, because you’re worried you’re gonna be a burden. What’s a guy gotta do, huh?” Leona grinned, grabbing her tightly before she could protest or wrestle him off, playfully nipping at her neck and collarbone while she yelped in between giggles. He flipped them both over and cuddled her close to him, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

“I’m here for y-.” She pressed her hand against his mouth before he could continue, leaving him spluttering and glaring at her in a most unimpressed manner. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but smirk at the rare sight. Slowly she lowered her hand, ready to shove it back over his mouth if he started to complain at her antics.

When all that came was a raised eyebrow, she leant close and kissed him deeply and slowly, gently holding his face between her hands. Words didn’t always come with ease and she hoped he understood the feelings she was trying to convey this way, even if the words she was trying to form in her head didn’t. In the end, she didn’t need to explain. “I know. Thank you for being my safe space.”

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst leona #Naminé Tenebris #twst oc #leona x reader #leona x yuu #leona x oc #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar x mc #Nammanarin writing #Naminé Tenebris fic

[unsoundedcomic]

When building a world or region of the world with the intent to write in, how deeply do you need to go in understanding it? Like, when writing Sharteshane for RP, how did you know what you needed to flesh out? When making Alderode for will and Duane's backstories, how did you find what the country needed to, i guess, support that backstory?

A setting for RP and a setting for a novel or comic certainly have different needs. Actually Sharteshane is a great example to talk about.

In RP, Sharteshane needed all kinds of enticing, mysterious environments that would draw players to them for the doing of adventures and shenanigans. It had a whole sprawling underground occupied by an undead civilisation ruled over by a family of liches. That underground had its own bizarre ecosystem, wildlife, and a cadre of mini-boss like lesser lords. There was a ton to do and explore. The surface city had a pirate's cove just to the north where criminals could hang out, famously haunted boardwalks where people just seemed to disappear (spoiler: murkoph was pulling them through loose boards and eating them), it had a posh part of town where an elabourately described bath house could host sexy times or political skulduggery, it had a pub inside a beached whaling ship along with an eccentric bartender and a friendly one-armed barkeep. It even had beach famously infested with man-eating mermaids.

Sharteshane in Unsounded- well, what do you know about it? Not too much. It's painted in pretty broad strokes as an almost comically corrupt monarchy with a puppet king and a lot of local thieves running the cities. That's about it. It's all Unsounded needs.

But see the difference? Write for what you need. It's not necessary to spend months fleshing out a setting or even side characters if you're just not going to need all that stuff. Of course it can be fun to do anyway! But a lot of people get stuck on the backstory and never progress the actual story. Writing out character sheets is easy. We all spent way too long in the character creator in BG3.

Alderode, of course, needed a lot more fleshing out than Sharteshane, as did Cresce. They serve as the actual settings for a lot of the story. Even so, there are things you could ask me about them that I wouldn't automatically know. I know their vibes though, and I could probably deduce the answers as needed.

It's probably most important to understand those vibes, when world-building. The fundamentals. What motivates a country and its people, what values they hold, what they are afraid of and what they aspire towards. If you know all that, then any details you need as you write will be easy enough to work out as you go. You'll write the world as you write the story as you write the characters. It should all gel.

[prof-ramses]

Let's talk about TADC episode 2!

So, I originally wanted to do a review post for the episode, but my thoughts boil down to "It's great, I wish the changes from plot a to b were a bit better placed, but otherwise no notes"

SO

I instead decided to do a post about some theories I've been pondering a lot since the premier.

The Gangle Issue

So, some things have been bothering me about Gangle ever since the pilot and I've finally cracked it!

Caine makes a point of saying that he can't directly alter human minds....So why then, does Gangle's mask control her general mood? If she is human, how does an in-game mechanic effect her mind so directly? Why does Caine so intensely fear mixing up players and NPCs? Does he suspect it's already happened?

And then there's this line from Jax: "I thought you were supposed to be submissive and agreeable!" This is obviously a joke, but the way he said it stuck out to me, the emphasis he puts on SUPPOSED TO BE, as if she's specifically made to act a certain way.

So, with all this said, can an NPC sufficiently convinced it's a human abstract?

The Origins of Jax

Both of the first 2 episodes have made some things apparent about Jax, he's great at slightly of hand and pickpocketing, he doesn't see a point to generosity, he can think quickly and takes genuine joy in the action oriented parts of adventures.

I've marinated on these traits and him being a more recent arrival to the circus and come up with this:

Jax was homeless in the real world and he entered the circus while squatting in the abandoned C&A office building.

He doesn't want to leave because he has nothing to go back to, he's in a world where rather than struggling to survive to tomorrow, he's able to enjoy effectively consequence free thrills daily.

All this lead me to one last theory

The In-Tent Behind The Circus

Personally, I think e circus was made to function as a place to keep people seen as too broken to fit into society for one reason or another. Perhaps it was planned to have a way of letting those who have healed out at some point, but the memory wipes made it impossible, so the project was buried. Or maybe, it's the opposite, it was designed to confuse it's occupants into harmlessess, after which they'd could be safely forgotten about.

Time will tell.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #gooseworx #glitch productions #tadc theory #tadc prediction #tadc Jax #tadc Gangle #tadc Caine #the amazing digital circus theory #the amazing digital circus prediction

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 9- FINAL CHAPTER)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Y/N spend some time apart before reuniting just in time for Y/N's next heat.

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

Word count: 3.6K

CW: smut, knotting, p in v sex, heat cycle

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plans for your time in Palm Springs are greatly altered due to your unexpected heat. Instead of hanging out with Harry’s friends, you’d been stuck inside a bedroom for over a day riding out the waves of your heat. And now that it’s over, you still don’t want to leave the house.

The day after your heat ended and Harry had joined you at the house again, you had constructed a nest. And now you want to stay wrapped in its safe walls with your alpha. It’s common for omegas to withdraw in the days after a heat, needing comfort and reassurances from their alpha. Harry is more than happy to provide, though you feel bad about keeping him locked up in the house with you. Each time you mention this he simply says, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He does encourage you to get fresh air, so you take some time to sit outside on the deck, soaking up the sun. It’s just warm enough in southern California that you’re comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt, which does brighten your mood.

But most of the time is still spent inside. The world seems too big at the moment, there are too many people, too many dangers. In your nest there’s nothing but warmth, and safety, and the ever-comforting scent of Harry.

He flies with you back to New Jersey and you're grateful. While you’re feeling better after a couple days of cuddling with Harry, an airport full of strangers would be a bit too much at the moment. He’s able to stay with you for two nights before he needs to leave and start getting everything ready for the next leg of tour. Before he leaves you build another nest in your home and he once again showers you with compliments about how lovely it is. You’re sad when you have to say goodbye, but he’s taken such good care of you that your omega is recovered by the time he’s gone.

You have a visit with your doctor the following week and discuss the heat you’d experienced. Luckily you don’t need to go into detail, just letting her know when it started and how long it lasted.

“That was a bit earlier than I’d estimated,” she says. “I was expecting the end of February. Is there anything that may have triggered it?”

You blush a deep red and reply, “I had just been knotted for the first time that morning.”

She gives you a reassuring smile and says, “That could definitely be the reason. I do have to ask, was this something you wanted or did the alpha force himself in any way?”

“Oh nothing like that! It was with my alpha, completely consensual. I was the one to bring it up.”

“Okay good. Well in that case, everything looks great. You should expect your next heat to be maybe mid-April or early May. This will be a full heat, so it’ll be longer and more intense than the other.”

“Right,” you reply, a tremor of nerves in your voice.

“There are some things we can do and prepare to make it easier if you’ll be solo during it.”

She hands you a pamphlet with some helpful tips and you sit quietly for a moment. Finally, you say, “I’m thinking of asking my alpha to spend it with me.”

“That sounds like a good plan, as long as that’s what you want. Make sure to talk about everything ahead of time alright? What you do and don’t want, any rules he needs to follow and ways he can take care of you.” She hands another pamphlet and says, “Here are some tips on how to prepare for a heat with an alpha. Yes, we have a pamphlet for everything,” she finishes and you both laugh.

“You mentioned he travels a lot, is he nearby now?” The doctor inquires.

“No, he's traveling at the moment. I probably won’t see him until April.”

“Okay, you may experience some touch deprivation symptoms again since you’re separated after a heat. Hopefully not too bad but just keep doing what you did back in the fall.”

“Got it,” you reply.

You talk a little while longer and finally you’re on your way home. You’re not thrilled that the depri might come back. The chills, exhaustion and itchiness are never fun. But hopefully this will be the last long separation you have from Harry.

There’s a lot you need to talk to Harry about, like spending your heat with you, and what your ideas for the future are, but you want to do that in person so it will have to wait until April.

It’s another long few weeks without Harry. The days are cold, and at first you’re not sure if it’s the touch deprivation that has you chilled to the bone, or just the wind constantly whistling outside.

But when it gets harder and harder to get out of bed, and headaches become a near daily thing, you have to admit the depri is back.

Harry checks in with a phone call or FaceTime at least once a day, and sends texts whenever he has a free moment. You know that he’s always there for you, but your omega doesn’t understand this. The lack of touch, lack of pheromones, just overall physical lack of an alpha after having him so close sends your inner omega back into a depression.

One week before you’re set to reunite with Harry he calls you just like normal. But it’s been an awful day for you. A couple of your coworkers had recently quit, leaving you with an insane workload for the following days. The milk in your fridge had expired, leaving you without your normal tea and cereal for breakfast. It was finally a nice day out but the chill in your body remains. And your headache is worse than ever, and has you practically seeing double.

All in all, you're at your breaking point. You’ve been hiding how bad it is from Harry, not wanting to add more stress to him while he’s in the middle of a run of concerts. But just because you don’t say anything doesn’t mean Harry hasn’t picked up on how you’re feeling.

A couple minutes into the call Harry says, “Is everything alright, love?”

“Yea, everything is fine,” you lie.

“Darling, please tell me what’s happening. My alpha’s been on edge for days and I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

Suddenly there’s a feeling of guilt eating at you. It takes only a second to realize it’s your omega cowering at the fact you’ve upset your alpha. You have no choice but to explain the situation, so you tell him how you’ve been feeling.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you’re feeling badly again. I wish I was there to make it better,” he says once you’ve filled him in.

His kind words and gentle voice have tears springing to your eyes, but you quickly blink them back. Crying would only make the headache worse.

“It’s only a few more days, I’ll be okay,” you reply, annoyed at the shakiness in your voice.

The two of you talk a little longer and you’re truthfully feeling a bit better by the time you hang up. You spend the rest of the day working from your nest, the extra comfort helping as well.

That’s how you spend the next excruciatingly long week. When Harry finally knocks on your apartment door you open it immediately and slump into his outstretched arms. He somehow gets his bags inside, closes the door, and lifts you, carrying you to the couch.

He sits down and adjusts you so that you’re straddling his lap. Instincts lead you and you dive into his neck scenting him frantically.

“That’s it baby, I’m here. Take what you need, omega.” His words of encouragement help you settle, and soon you’re gently nosing along his scent gland. Once you have your fill you pull away, and Harry matches your shy smile with one of his own. He leans in next, kissing and licking along your neck to scent you in return.

Finally, you’re both satisfied and Harry moves to kiss your lips. You sigh against him, your entire being relieved now that you’re finally reunited with your alpha.

You spend a couple of quiet days together, Harry wanting to take it easy after weeks of touring on the other side of the world, and you recovering from the last of the touch deprivation symptoms. When you’re finally both feeling up to it, Harry makes reservations at a nice restaurant, wanting to take you on a date.

When you walk out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, Harry is standing there, looking absolutely stunning. You’re completely speechless looking at him, and he seems to be feeling the same as well.

He regains his senses first, walking closer to run his hands along your arms as he takes you in. “Darling, you look amazing,” he finally says.

You blush and reply, “Thank you. You look very dashing.” He smiles shyly at the compliment and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we be on our way?” he asks.

“We shall,” you reply, feeling happier and lighter than ever.

The date confirms what you’ve been thinking for a while now. Harry is a perfect gentleman throughout, and the comfort and familiarity you feel in his presence is unmatched. Conversation never halts, and you’re as happy to listen to him as he is to listen to you. It’s a lovely mixture of lighthearted topics, with a couple more serious discussions thrown in.

After the last bite of dessert is finished, and the bill is settled, the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. You walk back home, enjoying the mild spring weather, Harry’s arm wrapped gently around your waist.

There’s a shift once you get back to your apartment. Both of your scents deepen, lust swirling in the air.

“Alpha,” you breathe out, turning so your lips ghost against his.

“Yes, omega?” he replies.

“Take me to bed?”

“Anything for you,” he says before immediately making good on his word.

The next morning you wake up once more cuddled next to Harry. He’s still sleeping, and you take the time to reflect on the night before. You’d done a lot of talking, and it seems that many of his desires and life plans line up with yours. That plus the undeniable connection between his alpha and your omega confirms that the two of you are right for each other.

You know you need to ask him about your upcoming heat, knowing that it could start within the next couple of weeks. You’re mulling over how to bring it up when he wakes up beside you.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice gruff from sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully. Always do with you in my arms,” he answers.

He shifts so that he’s level with you and can press a kiss to your lips. You get lost in the moment, but there’s still so many thoughts swirling through your brain. Harry notices your hesitance and asks, “What’s wrong? What’s going on in your head, hm?”

You could lie and say it’s nothing, but he’s already opened the door for the conversation. After a moment to collect your thought, you state, “My heat should be starting soon. Maybe a week or so.”

He nods to show he’s listening, and you continue, “I was wondering if you’d want to spend it with me?”

“Baby I would love to. Is that what you want? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’m ready. And I would really prefer not to be alone. I want you with me.”

“Then I will be. I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll always take care of you, love.”

“Thank you,” you answer before bringing your lips to his again. It’s a sweet kiss, full of emotion and gratitude for this gentle and caring man.

Over the next week and a half, you and Harry plan for your first ever real heat. You look at the pamphlets, making sure to answer all the questions asked there, and filling in Harry on your preferences. You make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on foods you’ll both need. You blush when you see that Harry has also stocked up on condoms. While you both have said you want pups at some point, now is not the time.

One morning you wake up feeling extra clingy. You barely let Harry out of your sight. By early afternoon you’re turning on the air conditioning, claiming an early spring heat wave must’ve hit. Throughout dinner you’re itching with a desire to nest, which you begin to do the second you finish eating. It’s the first time you’re okay being away from Harry since you want to do this job on your own.

When it’s complete you find Harry as he’s finishing the dinner dishes. Without a word you take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

“Baby, it’s lovely,” he says when he sees the nest on the bed. “It’ll be perfect for your heat.”

“Do you think it’s coming soon?” you ask, looking for confirmation of what you’ve been questioning all afternoon.

“I do. Probably by morning, if your scent is anything to go by. How do you feel about it this time?”

“Still scared. But not as much as before. I don’t like that it’s going to be more intense and longer. But, you’re here so I think I’ll be okay.” You pause before correcting, “I know that I’ll be okay.”

“Yes, you will,” he says, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I promise to keep you safe, to take care of you however you need.”

“Can we take a shower?” you suddenly ask. Harry’s a little surprised by the ask, since you’d both already showered that day, but he agrees. He assumes that you want to make sure you’re both clean before entering the nest. It’s going to get dirty during your heat, but it’s important to start with a perfect nest to provide comfort.

After you’ve both washed you pull on boxers and an oversized t-shirt, the loose material the only thing that won’t irritate your sensitive skin. You climb into your nest, holding your hand to Harry in a silent invitation.

“Will you scent me?” you ask once he’s settled next to you.

“Of course, baby,” he replies before leaning in to fulfill your request. You fall asleep, wrapped in Harry’s arms and his delicious scent.

You don’t know what time you wake up, only that there’s no way you can fall back asleep even though it’s definitely still dark out. You’re burning hot, and there’s a feeling inside that you can’t describe. A desperate hunger, somehow mixing with a distinct emptiness. There’s a whining sound and it takes a moment for your fuzzy brain to realize it came from you.

The sound wakes Harry up, and he quickly springs into action.

“Hey baby, tell me what you need,” he says.

“Alpha. I need you alpha. Need your knot,” you reply. The little part of you that’s not fully under yet winces at how needy you sound, but soon Harry’s hands are on you and your mind goes quiet.

All you’re aware of is the feeling off his skin on yours. “Off, off,” you say repeatedly until Harry has removed your clothes as well as his.

“Please, alpha, I need you. Empty, so empty.”

“I’m here, omega. I’ve got you.”

You lay on your back, pulling your legs up towards your chest. It’s an exposed and vulnerable position, but one your inner omega knows will get you what you want. It works like a charm, and Harry wastes no time. His fingers reach you first and he growls at how much slick he finds.

Content with how wet and open you are, and moved by how intense your whimpers and begs are growing, he pulls on a condom and quickly lines up with your entrance. You sob in relief when he pushes inside, your hands moving to his back to hold him as close as possible.

As much as Harry normally goes slow with you, he knows that’s not what will help you. Maybe after a first knot he’ll be able to take his time, but right now he sets a quick pace in order to give you what you need.

Your voice reaches a higher pitch, alerting Harry to your impending orgasm. He moves a hand to your center, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. The feeling of your walls contracting is enough to have Harry coming as well, emptying into the condom as his knot expends inside of you.

You both catch your breath and Harry smooths your hair out of your face.

“How was that, omega? Are you alright?” He checks in with you.

“Good, alpha, so good,” you mumble out, a blissed smile on your face.

“Rest, baby. I’ll be here to take care of you.”

With that, you close your eyes, succumbing fully to the haze of heat as your alpha licks at your neck, surrounding you with his scent.

Your heat lasts four full days, and when you wake up on that final morning you don’t know how to feel. Traces of desire still linger, but nowhere near the level it was at before. You’re aware of your need to use the bathroom, and shower, and eat. Your first thought is that you’re relieved that it’s over. Your second thought is that it really was not a bad experience. At all. Having Harry there took something you were dreading and made it into something so special and enjoyable.

The heat haze makes it so you can’t really remember the experience, but you can remember the feelings. And what you felt was pure love and contentment. There’s no hollow loneliness like the last time. Instead, there’s fulfillment, a sense that all is right in your world.

Harry turns, his lips subconsciously finding yours as he begins to wake up. You melt into the kiss, but he must notice a shift from the last couple of days. He pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Hi, baby. You with me?” he asks.

“I’m here.”

“How do you feel? Are you alright?” You can tell he’s worried so you’re quick to reassure him.

“I feel wonderful. You were perfect, alpha.”

You see the relief written on his face before he pulls you in for another kiss.

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed making out with you, I feel gross. And hungry.”

That’s all you have to say before he springs into action. The two of you take a quick shower together just to rinse off before he makes breakfast with all of your favorites.

Both of you are still quite sore, so you decide to soak together in the bath. Once it’s filled Harry helps you in before sliding in place behind you. The hot water feels heavenly, and the bubbles give it a nice relaxing touch.

You’re both quiet for the first few minutes, lost in your own thoughts.

“I should probably call my doctor,” you say, suddenly breaking the silence. “See if I can get an appointment before we leave for tour.” You feel yourself getting excited. In just a couple of weeks you’ll be going with Harry to Europe for all of his shows there.

“That’s a good idea. What are you going to do? Get new prescriptions?”

It’s a good question. Back in the fall when your old medicines stopped working you were devastated. All you could think about was surviving the few months until you could get new ones that will work again.

But now it’s different. You have an alpha. You have Harry. And the answer becomes less clear.

After thinking for a minute, you realize you know exactly what you want and you say, “I don’t think I will. At least not like before. I might get a low dose of suppressants to make sure my heats have a regular schedule. And most suppressants also double as birth control. But I don’t want to completely hide my omega anymore. I did it out of necessity, because those meds were the only thing that kept me healthy without an alpha. But that’s different now. Right?”

“Yes, love. It’s completely different now. You have me. You always will. And if you don’t want to go back on such strong medication then I support your decision. I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

“Thank you alpha,” you say, and he replies, “Always.”

***

With Harry’s full support, you walk into your doctor’s appointment a week later with a plan. She also supports your decision to do a much lower dose of suppressants. By the time you reach Denmark for the first show, you feel better than ever before.

As you watch Harry on stage you know that you made the right decision. Sure, there are plenty of obstacles to overcome, but you’re confident that you can do anything with Harry by your side.

And when you hear him sing Fine Line live for the first time, you know that everything truly will be alright.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story! The main story is finished but I'm open to writing some extra oneshots so if you have requests let me know!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz@fictionalmensblog@buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging @jerseygirlinca@stylesfever@alwayslovingharry @daphnesutton @harrydeary

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 2

Part two of Cowboy!Frankie and the OFC AIsling meeting as Frankie comes to New York to sort out things with his "maybe ex-girlfriend."

Mature, angsty, some fluff, dark themes.

Series Master List

Warnings contain spoilers and can be found here.

Aisling watched Frankie answer his phone from the corner of her eye as she stacked the clean glasses. Maybe it’s because she’d spent a few minutes talking to him, watching his face change from troubled to smiling, but the way his eyebrows bunched together as he looked at the screen for several long seconds, she knew the call brought him back to the mood he’d walked into the bar with. He pressed the phone to his cheek, eyes hidden under the peak of his cap, as he answered. A few words were exchanged, his shoulders crept up towards his ears, and then he slid off the stool and bent down to grab his duffel bag. He walked to the door without a look back, but at the last moment, he turned and caught Aisling’s eyes, lifting his chin in a small nod goodbye as he pushed the door open with his back. She gave him a quick wave and a smile, before the door closed behind him. 

As her shift ended, she grabbed the tray of dirty glasses and brought it to the back of the bar, loading the dishwasher. It roared to life, the old machine rumbling behind her as she got her bag and jacket. It wasn’t a long walk back to her small apartment, stopping at the bodega for a sandwich, before she could finally close the door on the day. Her place was small, a sublet, and not really her own. A room and a bathroom and nothing else, the partially obstructed view of the river the only forgiving feature. It’s also what’s going to force her to move sometime soon, the land value far too great to ignore, and another piece of Brooklyn would transform into luxury condos while people like her moved further out. 

People like her. And Frankie. Her mind turned back to the quiet man in the bar, something about him felt familiar. She thinks it’s the way he turned up in New York with only a duffel bag, his life packed into it. She could easily fit the things she cared about into a duffel bag and just leave. If she had somewhere to leave too. Would she have his courage to pick up and travel two days across the country to a new city? She wasn’t sure. This was her city, Brooklyn was where she was born and raised. She’d stayed even when her parents broke up and her mother found a new man in a Long Island suburb that Aisling hated. Both the man and the suburb. She’d stayed with her father in a tiny one bedroom apartment close to the river in Red Hook rather than move out to the big house with a pool. 

When her father died, her senior year in high school, she lost her family, and Brooklyn became family instead as she moved from one small semi-legal rental to another. She made some sort of life working in the endless bars, clubs and restaurants, and a new family was formed, made up of the friends who, like her, worked long hours, surviving on tips and bodega sandwiches. Her small world in Brooklyn became a place where people like her looked out for their own. And Frankie felt like one of their own.  

She hoped he’d return to the bar, hoped he’d find a job and stay around. He intrigued her, as well as tugged at a deep hidden physical attraction, his soft eyes, broad shoulders and large hands. She could easily imagine how it would feel to have him closer, to have him settle his weight on top of her as she wrapped her arms around those solid shoulders. She didn’t easily fall for anyone, but she didn’t mind finding temporary release with someone and Frankie had all the attributes she craved. She fell back in bed, thinking about the way he’d rubbed his hand over his soft looking curls, the strain of the jeans around his thighs as he picked up the duffel bag, and it made her legs clench together, seeking relief. 

In another part of Greenpoint, Frankie was buzzed in through the door of a much nicer building. Eva opened the door as he reached third floor, and let him in. 

“You look like shit, Frankie,” she said by way of greeting as he dropped his bag on the floor, “And you smell like the bus.” 

“Nice to see you too,” he replied, pulling off his cap and she presented her cheek for him to kiss. 

“Take a shower, we can talk after dinner, I bought Korean.” 

She left him standing in the small hallway as she disappeared into the kitchen, “I put out a clean towel for you.” 

With a sigh he zipped open his bag on the floor, digging out his shower gel and a clean change of clothes. He didn’t know if he’d be sleeping on the couch or not so he didn't take any chances, leaving his bag on the floor of the hallway until he knew where his bed was tonight. 

His hair was still damp from the shower when he pushed back the empty take out container and slumped back on the couch a little bit later. 

“I thought we’d talk about it,” he said, fighting to keep his voice quiet and calm, “I know timing is bad, but we should at least talk through the options.” 

“We can’t raise a baby here, it’s barely big enough for one person, Frankie,” Eva said, waving her hand around the apartment. “And I can’t afford a bigger place in Greenpoint and you’re not even working.”

“I have a job. In Montana. And that could be an option too, I could get a job on a ranch closer to town, we’d be able to afford a much bigger place out there.” He leaned forward, reaching for her hands, needing her to understand that he was serious about this, “I know it won’t be easy, but this is our baby, we can make it work for her, or him.” 

“So you want to get me back to that hell hole? I let you trap me there once before, now you want me to go back with a baby!” Eva stood up, ignoring the way he reached for her, his pleading voice as she paced the living room, “I don’t know how you can stand living there, all alone. I would never raise a child there, they’d be a fucking psycho, all isolated, and, I’m sorry Frankie, but surrounded by fucking hillbillies” 

“So then we stay here, we can move a bit further out, I’ll find work and we can afford a bigger place. I can fix it up, you know I can, make it the way you want it,” he turned so that he could keep looking at her as she continued her pacing, “It doesn’t have to be Montana, we can move wherever you want, but we can make this work for the baby.” 

“You’re so fucking delusional, Francisco,” she stopped in front of him, “we’re not even together any more, we broke up, remember? What makes you think we should raise a child together?” 

“Because we were good once, Eva, it was good, wasn’t it? I know I got you to move to Montana and you weren’t happy there, but we could be happy again, maybe here in New York and the baby-” 

“You hate New York, Frankie, you couldn’t even stand two months here, nothing’s changed because of the baby.” Her face softened slightly as she shook her head, “You still have your problems, your brain still won’t shut up here, the baby will only make that worse.” 

“The baby won’t make it worse,” Frankie protested, “I know I can’t live here, right in the middle of it, but if we move to a quiet area, just a bit further out, then I’d be fine, I know it.” He wasn’t sure at all, but it was all he had, the only alternative to Montana.

She chewed her lip and looked out through the window, the late night city noises drifting in.

“Cariño,” he said, his voice soft now, as he stood up and moved closer to her, “We were good, before Montana, we were even happy there right? In the beginning?” He carefully took her hand in his, stroking his thumb across the soft skin, “we can still be good together.” 

Eva turned towards him, his soft brown eyes looking down at her as his fingers wrapped around her hand, “I still love you,” he lied and she sighed, shaking her head. 

“I don’t know, Frankie,” she mumbled and she didn't say ‘I love you’ back. 

The unease settled in the pit of his stomach, the lie he told her, her non-response. Maybe he should’ve been relieved, if she didn’t love him then maybe his lie meant less. But he wanted to love her, wanted her to love him back, so that this child could be a second chance for them, another new start. 

She let him sleep in her bed at least, let him crawl between the sheets and curl his body around hers. But when he reached for her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, she feigned sleep. Frankie soon rolled over onto his back. He found himself staring at the ceiling while his ‘maybe girlfriend’ faked sleep next to him. As the city continued to move and live outside the bedroom window, she drifted into actual sleep and he fought the urge to leave, his feet itching. But his body could only fight sleep for so long, and in the early hours of the morning, when the traffic dropped to a minimum by Greenpoint standards, he drifted into an uneasy rest. 

When he woke up, Eva had already left, the only message a key on the kitchen counter. His body itched in a way it hadn’t since he left Florida, and it drove him out of the apartment. When he walked he could at least focus on just keeping control over his surroundings. He just needed to assess the situation in front of him, and then leave it behind as his long legs moved him past it and onwards. The compass in his head took him around Greenpoint in a big circle, it took several hours and by the time he drew close to the river again his feet were aching, not used to walking for hours on the hard streets. 

He found himself on the same street as yesterday, the sign of the bar just a bit further down, and he tried to tell himself it was a coincidence. But he knew his mind had been dwelling too much on the bartender. 

Aisling, with the red hair and creamy skin under her shirt, with a smile just for him. 

He knew it was ridiculous, because it’s her job, but the way she saw him, read him, and knew what he was when he walked in, it made him feel a connection. And now that draws him back to the bar. Maybe he was just such a pathetic man that he needed to be seen by a pretty woman, wanting her attention, for her to notice him. He scolded himself, took longer strides and kept his head down as he neared the bar. 

He wanted to walk past it, determined to go to the apartment, to talk to Eva again. But then he glanced in. And she was behind the bar, smiling at a couple as she put down two beers on the counter in front of them. The woman said something and Aisling laughed, her nose wrinkling as her shoulders shook with giggles. 

He stopped, caught in the way she squinted her eyes when she giggled, disappearing as she closed them and leaned forward, holding onto the bar for support as she laughed with her whole body. He swallowed, tried to move his feet again, but she straightened up and pushed her hand through her hair, her cheeks puffing out as she drew a deep breath to control her giggles. She still smiled brightly as she glanced out through the window, maybe sensing his eyes on her. And he tried to move again, but his body only obeyed hers. She lifted her hand in a wave, and before he knew it, he waved back at her as beckoned him inside. 

“Hi Frankie,” she called to him as he stepped through the door, as if he’s a regular, someone who belongs. She’s still smiling at him, only looking away briefly to nod at the couple who’ve taken their beers further into the bar.

“Come in, how’s your day?” Aisling asked as he walked over to the same stool as yesterday, the one where he can have a corner behind him. 

“It’s alright,” Frankie replied, her smile impossible to not match, and he felt himself lighten as she looked at him, “Been exploring around Greenpoint a bit.” 

“Do you like it?” she asked, leaning her hip against the counter. The bar was almost empty, early afternoon and she liked his company. The way he smiled, dark eyes softening as his face crinkled, the deep dimple prominent on his right cheek. 

“Honestly?” he replied, “Not at all, I fucking hate the city.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile as he chuckled at her expression, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline at his candid confession.

“What’s wrong with New York? It’s the greatest city in the world.” 

“I’m sure it is, but it’s not for me,” he shook his head, “I used to be able to handle cities but now…the noise, it just grates on my ears, makes my skin itch.” 

“Montana is different I guess,” she said and he knew he was reading too much into her remembering where he’d come from. 

“Yeah, it’s very different. I’m not from there, but I moved out after I left the army, needed a change of scenery,” he said, truncating his story, “And the life out there, it’s easier, at least for me.” 

“How so?” she asked, her gaze held on to him when he tried to duck his head, and all he could do was shrug, maintaining contact with her green eyes. 

“It’s open, quiet, no crowds, no traffic, just open sky and land going on for miles.” 

“I don’t know if I’d feel relieved or scared,” she smiled, “I’ve never really left New York. I can’t imagine being somewhere so open,” she leaned closer to him, tapping her finger on his phone that he’d placed on the bar, “Do you have pictures? I’d love to see it.” 

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he said, unlocking it and opening his photo folder, “I don’t take a lot of photos but sometimes the sky is just really beautiful, but the photos never do it justice.” 

He held up his phone, showing her a picture of his cabin, the mountains dark with the  sky burning in bright pinks and orange streaks behind them.

“I took this a week ago, just at sunset,” he said as she took the phone from him, her eyes widening. 

“Wow, that’s incredible,” she said, her voice reverent as she studied the photo. The small log cabin drew her in, smoke coming from the chimney, a pick-up truck parked in front and a pile of cut wood next to a chopping block. The scene was domestic, as if Frankie had just stuck the ax to the block and stepped back to snap a picture of the burning sky. It looked like a proper home, like homemade stew on the stove and lazy evenings in the hammock on the porch. She could see him there, kicking the hammock into a swing with one long leg on the porch while the evening closed in. 

“Is this your place?” Aisling asked him and he nodded in response. 

“Yeah, I work on a ranch and the cabin comes with the job, it’s kinda stuck on the outskirts, the prairie is in front, here,” he swiped his finger across the screen and showed her a second photo, “That’s the view from the porch, just open land.” 

She looked at all the space in the photo, just the darkening sky, a few low shrubs and the horizon. 

“It’s endless, so much…air,” she whispered and she didn’t know why, it was like seeing where he was from, what a contrast it was, made her want to protect him in this cramped world they’re in now. Keep her voice low so as not to grate on his ears like the rest of the city. 

“It makes me feel unrestricted,” Frankie said in a low voice that matched hers, studying her face as she studied the details of the photo. His fingers twitched, he almost reached up and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, it’d fallen over her cheek and she blew a puff of air to shift it, “Makes my mind go quiet and it makes me calm, it’s easier for me to live with myself out there.” 

She looked back up at him, their eyes meeting, and he bit his tongue. He’d spilled more than he intended, exposed himself to her, but she just gave him a soft smile. 

“So what are you doing here, Frankie? It’s all cramped and noisy, no place for a cowboy.” 

He shrugged, “I don’t know to be honest, just looking for a new start maybe,” he lied. 

He should tell her about Eva, tell her he has a ‘maybe girlfriend’ that he’s trying to work things out with for the sake of a mistake that they both made and is now waiting to be born. But he doesn’t, he tells himself Aising wouldn’t be interested in his messy personal life, but he knows that’s another lie, she would listen to him. 

“I just thought maybe I could make some more money here, go back to Montana and maybe buy my own place,” he shrugged again and she smiled at his plans. 

“That sounds like a plan worth going for,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at her colleague who’d just walked in behind the bar, “If you ever go back, let me know, I wanna come visit and see all that open sky.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, counting his third lie in just as many minutes. 

Aisling thumbed behind her, “My shift is over now, and I know the best place for bodega sandwiches, if you’re hungry?” 

Frankie should say no, he knows he should say no and go back to the apartment, maybe Eva is home already. But instead his head nodded, and he heard himself say ‘yeah, that’d be great’. 

Aisling gave him a smile that turned his insides warm, and told him she’d be out in a couple of minutes. 

She met him by the door to the bar, watching him tug at his cap and give her a small smile as she hooked her arm into his, pulling him down the street. 

“Tell me more about Montana, what’s it like to work on a ranch?” she asked, just to get him to talk, to listen to that deep voice of his. He’d been close to her ear at the bar when he told her about the photos, and the timbre of his voice had sent shivers down her spine. Now she held her hand around his solid arm, the warmth of it seeping into her fingertips, as he chuckled and shrugged. 

He said there wasn’t much to tell but then kept her entertained all the way to the bodega with a story about how he helped his favorite mare foal out on one of the trails when she went into labor too early. 

Aisling glanced up at him as he went deeper into the details, she’d asked, and his brown eyes were suddenly more alive than she’d seen them in the bar, his free hand waving around as he described the newborn’s unsteady gait. 

“I didn’t think the foal would make it, but he was fine, just took a bit longer to get to his feet once I’d dried him off properly.”  

He smiled down at her, the pride evident in his voice, and before she knew what made her do it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. He froze for a second, and she panicked, pulling away. But then his hand came up and wrapped around the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her long hair. And he pulled her with him, his back against a wall, making her take a step closer, as he pressed his mouth to hers. 

For a few seconds she didn't know what to do, his lips were warm and soft, his mouth slightly open and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. But then he shifted, his arm circled her waist, pulled her closer to his solid body, the buttons of the suede jacket dug into her stomach, and she opened her mouth to him, searching for his tongue. With low groans, they had a first taste, teeth clashing as he ran his tongue along hers. She thought he tasted of burnt coffee and toothpaste but it didn’t really matter because above all else, he kissed her like he was drowning, curling his tall frame around her as he licked into her mouth, fingers digging into the back of her head and heat shot through her body.

It was like his brain had shut down, her lips on his, her body against his, and he moved before he could think. Pulling her with him, closer, getting her closer to his mouth so that he could feel more of her, more of that soft mouth against his rough lips. And she moved with him, letting him hold her tight as she opened her mouth and tasted him. He thought she tasted of grapefruit juice and gum and her hand on his arm clenched, anchored him to her when he sucked on her bottom lip. His head should be buzzing, guilt should be shouting at him, but it shut up, silence filled the windings of his brain as her scent filled his nose and his tongue slipped into her mouth.  

She could keep on kissing him, his mouth addictive in the way it felt on hers. But she wanted him to come with her, take him back to her apartment that was just around the corner and make him put that soft mouth on all of her skin. She can feel herself tingling at the thought of having more. So she pulled back a little, reluctantly leaving his lips and opening her eyes to find him already looking at her with a confused expression. 

“That was nice,” she mumbled, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth with a smile, relishing the feel of his soft beard under her lips. 

He nodded, but his eyebrows were pulled together in a look she couldn't quite place, as he caressed the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said and when she shook her head in confusion he let go of her. 

“I kissed you, Frankie, it’s fine, I wanted you to kiss me.” 

“No, it’s not that, I’m…just sorry,” he said, moving around her so that she was against the wall, and he could start walking away, but her hand was still on his arm. 

“Frankie…?” she asked, the sting of rejection starting to burn inside her chest as he dipped his head, looking at his stupid cowboy boots. “I’m sorry, the kiss was great, you’re great…I…I,” he floundered, shifting his eyes around the street but not at her, “I’ve got to go, I’ve got to be somewhere.” 

And with that he left, long legs quickly carrying him away, almost running, leaving her with kiss swollen lips on the sidewalk like a fool. 

Aisling cursed him under her breath, ducking into the bodega next door with her cheeks burning, anger began to bubble up in her chest. By the time she got back to the apartment she was seething. 

Fine, whatever, he wasn’t even that cute anyway, she thought to herself, tossed her jacket on the chair and flopped down on the bed, just some random guy who was alright at kissing. 

She stared at the ceiling, finding the crack that looked like a cartoon mouse and glared at it. Who was she trying to fool? The kiss was incredible, she could still feel the gentle scratch of his mustache on her top lip and how damp he made her panties. And then he just ducked out and left her turned on and frustrated. 

Fuck Frankie Morales. 

She rolled over in her bed and buried her face in the pillow, groaning in frustration, giving it a punch for good measure. His stupid face didn’t even flinch, just smiled at her with that dimple deep in his cheek, soft brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. The phantom grip of his arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his chest, was still there. She could feel the way he tugged her in, he’d kissed her back and pulled her in. With a groan she shoved her hand down between her legs, just to get this fucking man out of her head. It wasn’t hard to imagine what his solid body would feel like over her, pressing her down into the mattress and with a whine she bucked her hips. The release came embarrassingly fast, leaving her panting on the bed, but still pissed at Frankie fucking Morales and his stupid curls.

Fuck!

Frankie stalked towards the apartment, an all too familiar guilt creeping through his body. The same feeling he always got when he’d made a mistake, let someone down. He’d never cheated on a girlfriend before, never been that guy. But the feeling was the same as all the other times he’d failed himself and those around him, guilt gnawing and making him recount all the other times he’d fucked up. 

His feet itched, and that all too familiar pull for a line of white powder lodged itself in the back of his head. He knew, rationally, it would only make him feel worse, make the guilt all that much worse. But the noise of the city assaulted his senses, worse now that he’d found a temporary reprieve in a kiss with a woman who was almost a stranger to him.

Fuck. 

He stopped and turned around, made it five steps back towards where he’d left Aisling, and then he stopped again. Turned back towards the apartment where Eva should be waiting. 

Fuck! 

He felt the pull between the two, one type of man would go back to Eva, starting a new life with the mother of his unborn child. Another type of man would go back to Aisling and lose himself in her warm body. 

With a deep groan he sank down on the stoop of a brownstone, his head in his hands. He could only see the feet of the people walking past him, no one slowing down or stopping to ask why a grown man was groaning with his hands clasped over his capped head. No one gave a fuck. 

No one gives a fuck about you, Francisco. 

With a deep sigh he pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and dialed the one person he knew would at least try to help him. 

“Hey Herb,” he said as his sponsor picked up.

…

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

…

“No, New York is kicking my fucking ass, it’s not good.” 

…

By the time he pulled himself up from the stoop, his butt was numb and his legs stiff. But he felt calmer, Herb’s sage, cut the bullshit, advice always seemed to get him off the ledge at least. The rest he had to do himself. 

He turned his back on Aisling, pushed her to the back of his mind, and walked with determination towards the apartment. He had a mission to complete, he was here to take responsibility for something he’d done, and he was not about to involve another person in that mess. 

He used his key to open the apartment door when he got back, and found Eva flat on her back on the couch with a heat pack over her belly. 

“You alright?” he asked her, his eyebrows pulling together in concern as he saw her pale and drawn face. 

“Food poisoning,” she mumbled, “I think.” 

He shrugged out of his jacket and crouched down next to her, putting his hand on her clammy forehead. 

“Can I get you something? Pain meds? Pepto?” he asked, but she shook her head. 

“I already took some, I can take more in two hours.” 

“Some tea maybe? And I’ll sort dinner, don’t worry about it,” he gave her cheek a small caress but she turned her head away from his hand, towards the couch. 

“No, just let me sleep, I’ll be better in the morning,” she muttered, closing her eyes. 

“Alright, but I’ll make some Chicken Alfredo, your favorite, just let me know if you want some,” he stood up and pulled his jacket back on, “I’ll go get some groceries, just message me if you need anything, ok?” 

Eva didn’t respond, just turned further into the couch and Frankie left. Under the harsh overhead light of the local convenience store he scanned the shelves for saltines, the yellow gatorade and extra ibuprofen, just in case. 

She seemed to be sleeping when he returned to the apartment, and he cooked the chicken, trying to keep the noise down. As he sat down on the couch next to her, she stirred and woke up. 

“Do you feel like some food?” he asked but she shook her head, “Here, have some crackers, then. It’ll make you feel better,” he held out the packet to her as she yawned. She shrugged and accepted it and he went back to his meal. He ate in silence, one of the reality shows she loved rolling on the tv, and after he’d cleaned up, he passed her another ibuprofen and the bottle of gatorade. She took it without a word and then curled back up, her head away from Frankie. 

He leaned back against the couch and pulled off his cap, running a hand through his hair as he tossed it on to the coffee table. There was a memory in his head, about how it used to be when she was sick or had cramps. She’d curl up against him, her head in his lap while he stroked her hair, or gently rubbed her back. Now, not even her feet touched him, and she’d pulled the blanket so high up over her shoulders that he couldn’t even see her face. They had a long way to go, but he won’t bring that up tonight while she’s sick. 

“I’m going to bed,” she said, pushing off the blanket and standing up, leaving him sitting on the couch without a backwards glance. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asked and she shrugged as she left the room. 

“Do whatever you want, Frankie.” 

She disappeared into the bedroom, and although she didn’t close the door, she only left a crack open. So he stayed on the couch, kicking off his boots and stripping out of his jeans before he pulled the blanket over himself. 

But sleep didn’t want to find him tonight either. The street lights cast strange patterns on the walls and he felt his heart rate pick up as sirens howled past on the street below. He twisted his tall body, too tall for the couch, and buried his head in the pillow. Aisling’s face floated up into his mind, smiling up at him, as she leaned in for a kiss. Frankie growled under his breath as the memory of her lips assaulted his restless mind, the way she felt pressed against him, soft lips, soft hair, soft body. 

Fuck. 

He moaned as his cock twitched, pressed against the couch beneath him, demanding attention. Shoving away the memory of her, he twisted again, picturing Eva under him instead, how she’d felt when they shared a bed back in Montana. But when he closed his eyes again, Aisling’s face was the one he saw, pink mouth open, head thrown back, moaning his name as he fucked himself deep into her. 

Fuck! 

He twisted again, his cock hard now, pressed against the cotton of his boxers and he pushed his palm against it, relieving some of the tension. It felt too good and he gripped it tighter through the fabric, tugging. Just needed to get this out of his system, get some release, he lied to himself. Pushing down his boxers he gripped his weeping cock with his bare hand, hissing through clenched teeth at the first slow, dry, stroke. 

He couldn’t help it, he shouldn’t, but Aisling’s face floated in his mind as he jerked himself off, the image of her smooth skin as she reached up, the feel of her soft breasts against his chest this afternoon, her taste. He groaned into the palm over his mouth as thick ropes of cum splash onto his belly, coating his hand. With a sigh he cleaned himself up, shoving down the guilt that crept up his throat again, listening to Eva’s soft snores from the bedroom. 

He twisted again, landing on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. Aisling’s face floated up in his mind and he sighed and accepted it. He’d deal with it in the morning.

Chapter 3

tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

[dairy-farmer]

SPEAKING of my Andriods Nightgaurd ficlet? And my ongoing campaign of Sexy Civilian!Tim encounters?

:Dc

Night Gaurd Tim? owo? Jason doesn't die. But Tim's dad still does. New Dad is rich but An Asshole. So Tim studies like mad to get outta there. Lands a shotty apartment in HIS name. And a job!

That the Riddler destroys.

Okay... second try... SECOND job! Two-face. MOTHER FU-!

It keeps happening. He starts taking potshots at goons. He WANTS HIS PAYCHECK, damn it. He's tired of cheap ramen!

One of his Dad's old buddies see's him on a viral clip. He... *awkward cough* maaaay have swung a bat at Condiment King. To be FAIR... the shot super staining GOO all over the fashion line Tim JUST unboxed. He may have snapped a little.

But! It lands him a job!

Night Gaurd~ *jazz hands*

It's not like he sleeps at night anyway! Might as well get payed! He gaurds the satellite building used for staff overflow. It's only really in USE during certain seasons. But the don't want squatters or stolen company secrets.

O7 got it.

What he DOESN'T realize? That building has an EXCELLENT vantage point line of sight from certain parts of the roof. It's been part of the Bat's intersecting patrol paths for YEARS.

He doesn't notice them, at first. But they notice him. He's the cutie in uniform. Background check reveals some memes and that he used to be their neighbor etc.

Now, this can go one of two ways~ "Ivy assisted Fuck Seduction" or "I swear to GOD I WILL TRESPASS YOU-" It? Depends on if you want Timmers to notice! That waaait a second *squint*

Why does the roof... look EXACTLY the same as it did 8 days ago. Because he has freakishly good memory. Leading to him realizing the cameras? Hacked. There are 17 randomly played "night footage" banks. Son of a- *keeps open roof access to find the Bat's mid patrol Bat Burgering" YOU. #TheyCanExplain?

Or! Ivy, miffed that Bats made her MISS her girlfriends BIRTHDAY, decides? Fuck you in particular, actually. And hits him with a Pollen bomb.

He was standing RIGHT in front of the intake vent for the air conditioning. The whole BUILDING gets dusted. Not as concentrated, since it's spread out. But still exposer. Tim? Starts feeling off. Fever maybe? Weirdly horny. Really distracted, actually...

The Bat's? Drive Ivy off. Okay, who was hit? Everyone gets their antidote. We good? Let's head hooo-OMG! THE GAURD! FUCK.

And yep. Too late for an antidote too be effective. But don't worry Really Hot security Gaurd! They will- stop shoving! No you will not! I will-! No you have-! I said I WILL *Sibling jostling for the right to Help Tim*

Batman, NOT allowing himself to be distracted by gorgeous legs or the TIGHTEST little- Regardless, NOT letting himself getting distracted. Lends quite literally a hand. Gotta get that consent. For medical assistance. Because Bruce TOTALLY hasn't been fantasizing about taking this boy apart. Rocking his world then buying him breakfast.

He's just here to lend a dick in these trying times. Hero's duty and all.

And once Tim? Bat Fan and Bi Disaster realizes he has fucked the Bat's and they seemed REALLY into it? :Y he uuuh *cough* I mean, he's just SAYING... no one said you had to STOP... options THERE...

Now? They REALLY like that building. Great rest stop. Grab a bite to eat, drink something, fuck the night gaurd, take a nap, you name it!

Tim REALLY likes his new job. He's great at it.

-🐼🐼🐼

tim being the shared fucktoy among the bats❤️

#answered asks #asks #anonymous