#Arteris Plus

[healthywealthypvk]

Arteris Plus: Natural Blood Pressure Support Supplement

Maintaining healthy blood pressure is crucial for overall heart health and well-being. Arteris Plus is a natural supplement designed to support healthy blood pressure levels and promote cardiovascular health. Formulated with a blend of herbs and plant-based ingredients, Arteris Plus helps regulate blood pressure while providing long-term heart support.

Key Benefits of Arteris Plus:

Supports Healthy Blood Pressure: Arteris Plus contains ingredients like Hibiscus and Garlic that help maintain balanced blood pressure levels.

Promotes Heart Health: With ingredients such as Hawthorn and Green Tea, the supplement supports overall heart health by improving circulation and reducing cholesterol.

Reduces Hypertension Symptoms: Arteris Plus helps alleviate symptoms of high blood pressure, such as headaches and dizziness.

Improves Blood Flow: The natural blend works to improve blood circulation, promoting better oxygen and nutrient delivery to the organs.

100% Natural Formula: Made with natural, non-GMO ingredients, Arteris Plus provides a safe and chemical-free approach to blood pressure management.

How Arteris Plus Works:

Arteris Plus combines powerful herbs and plant extracts known for their heart-healthy properties. Ingredients like Olive Leaf Extract and Buchu Leaf are rich in antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds, which help reduce oxidative stress, improve artery health, and promote normal blood pressure levels. The supplement also helps regulate nitric oxide production, aiding in blood vessel relaxation and better circulation.

Why Choose Arteris Plus?

Natural and Safe: Arteris Plus is made from 100% natural ingredients, making it a safe option for long-term use without harmful side effects.

Scientifically Formulated: The blend of herbs and plant extracts is backed by research to help support healthy blood pressure levels.

Convenient Capsules: Easy-to-take capsules make it simple to incorporate Arteris Plus into your daily routine.

Conclusion:

For individuals looking to manage their blood pressure naturally, Arteris Plus offers a safe and effective solution. Its unique blend of heart-healthy ingredients helps support normal blood pressure levels, promote circulation, and maintain overall cardiovascular health.

[sonavelusa]

Arteris Plus: Unlocking the Potential of Cardiovascular Health

Arteris Plus is a revolutionary supplement that aims to promote and enhance cardiovascular health. Developed by a team of experts in the field of cardiology and nutrition, this cutting-edge formula combines scientifically proven ingredients to support the optimal functioning of the heart and blood vessels.

One of the key components of Arteris Plus is its powerful blend of antioxidants. These natural compounds work synergistically to combat oxidative stress and reduce inflammation, which are known contributors to cardiovascular diseases. By neutralizing harmful free radicals and protecting the delicate lining of blood vessels, Arteris Plus helps maintain healthy blood flow and lowers the risk of developing conditions like atherosclerosis.

Moreover, Arteris Plus contains a unique combination of vitamins and minerals that are essential for cardiovascular health. These nutrients play vital roles in maintaining proper heart rhythm, regulating blood pressure, and supporting overall cardiac function. By replenishing the body with these essential elements, Arteris Plus promotes a healthy cardiovascular system and reduces the likelihood of heart-related complications.

Notably, Arteris Plus is backed by rigorous scientific research and manufactured under strict quality control standards. Its formula is designed to be safe, effective, and suitable for long-term use. Additionally, the supplement is conveniently packaged, making it easy to incorporate into your daily routine.

Take charge of your cardiovascular health with Arteris Plus. By nourishing your heart and blood vessels with its unique blend of ingredients, this remarkable supplement empowers you to maintain a healthy and vibrant life. Prioritize your cardiovascular well-being and unlock your potential with Arteris Plus today.

[fireladybuckley]

Sometimes doing things you need to do for yourself is really scary. 😫

[jwowwsboobs]

i don’t understand the vitriol metalheads hve towards anthrax like grow up. accept tht anthrax is better thn slayer. “woughhh but reign in blood!” no🩷 listen 2 possessed or venom or something no more excuses 4 copy paste riffs n faux deep mediations on evil lyrics

[universitypenguin]

I’ve worked in a trauma center long enough to have seen someone get stabbed directly in the heart and still survive because of how quickly they were treated. Even if an artery is cut, tourniquets and a vascular surgeon can work wonders. There’s literally like four or five places on the body that could result in an injury serious enough to kill someone (assuming they had prompt access to first aide and got treatment for the wound in a reasonable timeframe.) A portion of people who are stabbed in those vulnerable places do end up with life altering physical damage, but they still survive.

Writers who are looking to make their stories realistic should be aware of this, but it’s not common knowledge outside of the medical field.

one of my greatest pet peeves in fiction, and it is truly stupid I know, is that no one seems to understand how genuinely hard it is to kill someone via stabbing. stab wounds have a mortality rate of like 5%. especially abdominal stabbing. tv shows and movies show dudes getting stabbed one time in the lower abdomen with a tiny knife and then they fall over. like what did he die of precisely. that man died of Small Knife

[cadaverousdecay]

☠️ creaky-freak Follow

i get d/newlyturned can be useful but why are there vamps asking the stupidest questions like how to bite….. even humans know that u just open your mouth and close it on something… not that difficult.

⚰️ draculabitme Follow

I’m so tired of this new generation of vampires. Back when i was turned, if you didn’t know how to hunt, you starved. These fucking babybats with their bloodbags and willing victims are defanging the name of vampires.

🧛🏻 garlicker Follow

why are these vamps asking deaddit anyway, shouldn’t they be learning these things from their sire???

🦇 batty-betty Follow

hey, biting correctly can be tricky to master! and some vampires don’t have a relationship with their sire where they feel comfortable asking for advice. when i was turned, my sire was my former master and it took awhile to feel like i could talk to her freely. plus, most fledglings are abandoned by their sires these days. i think it’s great that these babybats have a place to figure these things out.

🧛🏻‍♂️ snacula Follow

op left out the full screamshot anyway

he’s having trouble sucking enough blood from the wound, which is something most fledglings struggle with tbh.

tip to all the babybats: if you feel you’re not getting enough blood you probably aren’t sucking hard enough. you gotta really work at it. it takes time to build up the muscles to drain someone within minutes. and if you really want to puncture an artery go right ahead, just prepare for things to get messy haha (and don’t expect your victim to live through it)

and here is a site made specifically for newly turned vampires, it’s got all you need to know as a fledgling

🪦 f34st-of-bl00d Follow

reblogging for that last bit, i struggled with sucking when i was a fledgling and i had no sire to tell me why.

another tip: bite the chest when starting out. you can move on to the neck once you’ve gotten a hang of that. and i wouldn’t recommend the wrist or thigh as a convenient bite

🧛‍♂️ fresh-blood Follow

saving this post for later

[critterbitter]

The twins and their starters may have grown slightly taller, but their love of shenanigans have tripled, no, quadrupled in size.

On that note did you know Eelectrik has a glow animation?? Perfect nightlight eel. Absolute gold standard for creature. Click here for the masterlist!

Bonus shitpost under cut ft @birdsaretoddlers’s incredible take.

(plus a fanfic drabble that birds did while we were discussing in chat! Check out their funny writing @birdsaretoddlers) “Lam lam pentttt. Lam.”

“Language. I am not calling them that. This is a civil discussion about the capacity of a 284 Berkshire’s firebox, not a playground argument.”

“Lammm Pent.”

“If you possess my phone I will have to put you in time-out in your ball, and neither of us will like that.”

The argument over a literal online flame war was cut short by the door flying open, one of the hinges breaking off with the force and flying somewhere into the aether, never to be seen again. Or at least, not without a strong magnet.

Emmet stood there, proudly, holding his newly-evolved Eelektrik, his grin a mile wide. Ingo picked his heart up out of his femoral artery, where it had lodged itself, and gently removed Lampent from where she hid, hanging over his shoulder. Emmet stood there, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to perform the coveted Bit. Ingo opened his mouth, got halfway through a word, and his twin took the proffered delight of cutting him off.

“I am Emmet and I discovered something INCREDIBLE. INGO LOOK.”

Ingo looked, because what else was he going to do? He would allow his twin to complete his circus act, it was only proper and polite. Eelektrik trilled with delight. Emmet twirled like the best of Nimbasan runway models, clearly wrestling his eel, cooing platitudes to it as he writhed and squirmed to get it into position.

“Me beautiful slimy baby, my beloved pool noodle, my beeesstt conductor!~” Doing something that could generously be called ‘dislocating his shoulders’, Emmet managed to get his eel flipped up and around his neck. He flopped forwards, bonelessly, tipping his hat and giggling madly. He was grinning harder than normal. Ingo was a little scared.

“But now, Eelektrik can do MORE. OBSERVE.”

He threw his shoulders back, standing up as tall as he could, somehow not throwing himself ass-first onto the floor as the fifty pounds of eel he was currently deadlifting remained stationary over his neck. Emmet’s arms flew upwards and out, rocking back and forth in jazz hands. Eelektrik frilled its fans, made another happy little buzz and-

"Eelektrik boa."

“DRAGONS ALMIGHTY. THE EEL GLOWS.”

There it was, clear as day. Eelektrik flashed it’s spots in natural bioluminescence, blinking like a neon sign. Bright beautiful yellow and clearly charged, Emmet’s hair stood on end, pushing his hat an inch off his head. They blinked in a rhythmic, pulsing manner. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, in a way. Ingo snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth had dropped open and Lampent had ceased questing for his Pokedex. Recognizing Emmet was looking for a response, he threw his arm out in a thumbs-up so fast his arm hurt, snapping his suspender against his neck.

“Brrravo! Ten out of ten! Majestic eel scarf!” He praised, Emmet’s expression only growing further full of himself and his achievement, which was well deserved. Lampent echoed the sentiment, flashing back at Eelektrik in response.

Now that both Pokemon could glow, they’d never have a problem in the caves again!

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ brief suggestive content

"Why are we stopping here?"

Vacation was great. It was everything you needed, he needed, a perfect slice of memories now engrained in his brain, moving pictures tucked away for him to think about when he's trying to fall asleep alone on a cold, threadbare safehouse mattress.

Not to mention the hundred photos he took of you in that bikini.

But now, it comes to an end. Now, he's about to blindside you with painful, shocking reality.

He didn’t plan it like this, not really. The town is outside of the place he chose for vacation, but not close enough that it’s in a travel path. It’s far enough away from town, tucked into grassy hill, but still close enough to civilization. He’s not a monster, after all. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate being cut off from the world.

Plus, Price and his wife live a few clicks to the east.

"Simon?" He finds your hand, shutting the passenger door and leading you to the walk. “What is this?”

The words stick in his throat, and you watch him warily. “It’s… let’s just go inside.” The keys feel like an anchor in his pocket.

“What?” Your face twists in confusion. “Go inside?” You let go of his hand, and the sapphire sparkles in the sunlight. He reaches out of instinct.

“Mama-“

“Don’t ‘mama’ me… tell me what is going on.” You shirk out of his grasp.

“This is our house.” Your jaw drops.

“What?!” You shriek. “Our what?”

“Our house. I bought it, for us. F'you, and Orion.” You're standing a pace away from him now, too far for comfort, shuddering. When you clap a hand over your heart, his body goes cold. Stress. Stress can exacerbate your condition. "I need to keep you safe."

"I... I don't know what to say. You bought a house without asking me?" You're waspish, and he's too fast for you, too tactical. You're in his arms in a second, his fingers pressed to the artery below your jaw. It's too fast.

"Take a deep breath." He murmurs. "Try to calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"No!" You jerk backwards and he lets you go, bereft at the loss of your warmth against his chest. "You don't just get to blindside me with this and then think everything is going to be fine."

"I know. 'm sorry. I just... I need to keep you safe, sweetheart. You and the baby. Your flat is great but-"

"But nothing." You hiss and stomp away, before turning back, slicing through the air with an open palm. "My flat is great. It's my home! Mine and Orion's." You sniffle. "I thought it was yours too." Fuck.

"It is. It has been. But it's not safe. It's too exposed, there's no security, your windows face the street. The neighborhood is too difficult to disappear into and away from. It's too populated."

"Gaz and Cami live there." Not for long. He doesn't tell you about Gaz's long term plans, the ones that involve a house just over the hill. He doesn't think it would do him any favors right now.

"Will you just come inside and look at it, at least?" You shake your head. "It's not a bad drive to the beach. You could take Orion as much as you want. Teach him to swim. We could take as many vacations as you want, as a family. Please, give it a chance. That's all I ask." You cross your arms over your chest, but after a minute, nod.

"Fine."

The house is a blank slate. He didn't have time to get anything done, but he tries to pitch it as a selling point. "You'd be able to do whatever you want." You raise an eyebrow.

"Like paint the kitchen pink?" He swallows.

"Sure." You're trying to test him, punish him, but he's not upset. He can already tell you're starting to entertain it all. The house is triple the size of your flat, with three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, even a garden.

He follows you around, your finger trailing over the walls, window sills, trying to hold his tongue, allowing you space to work through it in your mind. "What if I have to go into the office?"

"You said you never go into the office. You're completely remote." You glare.

"And how are you going to get here? It's so far from your base."

"There's a small airport to the east. We'll get in and out that way. It will be quick."

"We?" Shit.

"Ah, Price and his wife live, kind of close by." You blink, and then laugh out loud.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is this your plan? Some sort of weird commune for special task force wives?" It's the first time you've said, called yourself his wife, and his cock swells beneath the zipper on his jeans, possessive instinct flowing freely. "Don't."

"Don't what."

"I know that look." Still, you don't move as he stalks closer, close enough you're backed up against the windowsill in the master bedroom.

"What look mama?"

"The caveman look you get. Me husband, you wife." You try to imitate his accent, and he chuckles.

"I love you." You roll your eyes.

"I'm pissed at you." There's fire in you, one that burns too bright to be quelled by most, but he's made it is business to know you so well, he can tell when there's something simmering beneath the surface.

"But you like it." Your skin is satin soft, and he strokes your cheek.

"I do. I'm really mad, but I do like it. You... you did a good job."

"Gonna forgive me?"

"Depends." You smirk. "Are you going to earn it?" He presses himself to the inside of your thigh.

"How can I do that?"

"Want to christen our new bedroom?"

[healthcar]

Arteris Plus Reviews: Blood Pressure Support Formula Really Work or A SCAM?

Maintaining a healthy heart and optimal circulation is essential for overall well-being. However, factors like poor diet, sedentary lifestyles, and stress can take a toll on our cardiovascular system. In recent years, natural supplements have gained popularity as a potential aid in promoting heart health. One such supplement is Arteris Plus. In this comprehensive review, we will delve into the key features, ingredients, benefits, and potential drawbacks of Arteris Plus to provide you with an informed understanding of its effectiveness in supporting a healthy heart and circulatory system.

Understanding Arteris Plus

Arteris Plus is a natural dietary supplement formulated to enhance heart health and improve circulatory function. The creators of Arteris Plus have developed this product to address common issues related to cardiovascular health, such as high blood pressure, cholesterol imbalances, and poor blood circulation.

This supplement combines a unique blend of scientifically backed ingredients, carefully selected to promote cardiovascular well-being. Arteris Plus is designed to support the reduction of arterial plaque buildup, regulate blood pressure, improve blood flow, and enhance overall heart health.

Key Ingredients and Their Benefits

Hawthorn Berry: This powerful antioxidant-rich ingredient has been used for centuries to support heart health. It helps improve blood flow, reduce blood pressure, and strengthen the heart muscles.

Garlic: Garlic is known for its ability to reduce cholesterol levels, lower blood pressure, and improve overall cardiovascular health. It also has anti-inflammatory properties that can support the reduction of arterial plaque.

Hibiscus: Hibiscus is a natural vasodilator that helps widen blood vessels, promoting healthy blood flow and lowering blood pressure. It also possesses antioxidant properties that may protect against oxidative stress.

Green Tea Extract: Green tea contains catechins and antioxidants that contribute to better heart health. It helps reduce cholesterol levels, promotes healthy blood pressure, and enhances blood vessel function.

Vitamin C: This essential vitamin supports collagen production, which contributes to the health and flexibility of blood vessels. Vitamin C also acts as an antioxidant, protecting against oxidative damage.

Benefits of Arteris Plus

Enhanced Heart Health: Arteris Plus provides a holistic approach to cardiovascular health, addressing multiple factors that contribute to heart-related issues.

Improved Blood Pressure: The ingredients in Arteris Plus, such as hawthorn berry and hibiscus, are known for their blood pressure-regulating properties, potentially aiding in maintaining healthy levels.

Reduced Cholesterol: With the inclusion of garlic and green tea extract, Arteris Plus aims to help lower cholesterol levels and reduce the risk of arterial plaque buildup.

Increased Blood Flow: By promoting healthy blood vessel function and vasodilation, Arteris Plus supports improved blood flow, ensuring vital organs receive the necessary oxygen and nutrients.

Antioxidant Protection: The presence of antioxidants in Arteris Plus, including hibiscus and vitamin C, helps protect against oxidative stress and potential damage to the cardiovascular system.

Potential Drawbacks and Precautions

While Arteris Plus offers several potential benefits for heart health, it is essential to consider certain precautions and potential drawbacks:

Individual Results May Vary: The effectiveness of any supplement can vary depending on individual factors such as lifestyle, genetics, and overall health conditions.

Allergic Reactions: Some individuals may have allergies to certain ingredients present in Arteris Plus.

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[lunarw0rks]

Too Old For You // Part Two

Summary: You've been crushing on him for a while now, even going as far as taking a stab for him. But it isn't enough for him to notice you; you're too young, too nice for someone like him.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), strong language, age gap [reader is early twenties, ghost is mid/late thirties], mild injury/blood, sexual harassment, hurt/comfort, smut, oral sex, face sitting, p in v sex, unsafe sex, oral fixation, medic!reader, fem!reader

Word Count: 5.5k ˖⁺‧₊˚ A/N: This took FOREVER, but I think it's worth it. Not Proofread! ₊‧⁺˖

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX | AO3 VER | PART ONE .ˎˊ˗

To be honest, you were making your best effort to forget about yesterday. Sure, it was a loss of your dignity to be rejected — but you hadn’t done anything truly wrong. What could he do to publicly embarrass you? Tell everyone he walked out on the person who took a knife wound for him? What a prick he would be, then.

Plus, Simon was never the type to air out his dramas. Especially involving you, who deserved to move on and find someone better. If only it were that simple.

There was little time to dwell — a trauma was coming in.

The second you were focused on a patient; any other life problem was pushed to the back burner. After the other day, that was a blessing. Sure enough, seconds after you got the comm, the infirmary doors swung open. It was a typical sight; the wounded soldier fighting the aid of the medics, on the verge of being sedated to ensure his care was given without mistake. You sterilized your hands briefly, finding the nearest box of disposable gloves and slipping them on. Whatever happened to the man, it sounded agonizing.

However, the grunting and complaining sounded familiar, too familiar. It was Simon.

That sentiment about forgetting about your problems when tending to a patient? It vanished at the speed of light when you peeled back the curtain, seeing that it indeed was him bleeding out on the table. He didn’t want the help, but he needed it.

Maybe he really didn’t want to see you — to the level of finding hemorrhaging more preferable than letting you tend to him, let alone speak to him. Though, it seemed more likely he could not show weakness, even when he had a bullet in him.

You peeled back the privacy curtain, greeted with a well-acquainted scowl of distaste. He didn’t want you here, to see him like this. Unlike him, you could separate personal feelings from your work. Simon should know how to do that by now, but it’s clear he doesn’t.

“You need to relax and let me help you.” He rejected you — doesn’t mean you’re going to take pleasure in watching him writhe. It was your sworn duty to treat everyone, unfortunately.

Simon wanted to argue. It was obvious with the way the fabric of his mask moved, failing to conceal the clench of his jaw. You sat across from him, wheeling one of the trauma case carts beside you, “I need you to relax.” His heavy breaths weren’t from pain, he was cursing himself for catching a bullet and ending up here. He was more enraged at himself for forcing you into tending to him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now… right?

Oh, how he despised being vulnerable, even when there was no other way. With a sigh, he removed the hand putting pressure on his shoulder. He was extremely fortunate — it had missed his arteries, and from what you could see, had an exit wound.

By the time you had your eyes on the hole, you had inserted a local anesthetic to keep the area numb. Strangely enough, Ghost flinched more when you leaned in to inject the needle than when you touched the tender area. He recoiled but wasn’t going to decline medicated relief.

“Can you feel that?” You asked, pressing the pad of your gloved fingers to the outer edge of the wound. It seemed that even if he did, you wouldn’t have gotten an answer. With a shake of your head, you merely began the routine of disinfecting the wound to start. Though you were careful, you wanted this ordeal to be over.

Once you moved on from dabbing at it with swabs, you met his gaze again, finally reciprocating the stare that hadn’t broken. “You’ll be fine.” You said, moving with haste as you got a suture kit ready. Any other day, the stare would send chills up your spine. Not today.

“Not why I was looking,” Simon grumbled, now instead watching the needle thread through his flesh. You didn’t even try to hide your eye roll at the sudden mood change. It wasn’t endearing anymore; it was irksome. Your sutures were about halfway done on the entrance wound, and you couldn’t have been more thankful for that.

The med bay went silent again, except for the occasional hiss from his clothed lips, or the creaking on the stool you were sitting on. The area around the wound was pinkish and inflamed, but not a tear, luckily. If he took his antibiotics, you wouldn’t have to see him much after this. You eventually found yourself behind him to examine the exit wound, a rinse and repeat of disinfecting and then stitching.

Only, this time, the infirmary wasn’t silent for long.

His words came after the last stitch when you placed a bandage over the now-healing wound, “look, ‘m sorry for yesterday, alright?”

Simon watched your scowl intently. It wasn’t one of distaste, not even irritation — it was loathing for yourself. You didn’t deserve to feel that way, especially at his expense. But no apologizing would make the initial sting of rejection go away. You weren’t a child, nor were you a fool; you wouldn’t have pursued him if you weren’t sure of what you wanted.

With a small ‘hm’ in response, you finished the last of his dressings, ripping the disposable gloves off your hands and tossing them into the trash. Your feet darted across the tile floors as you disposed of the contaminated linen and instruments, merely moving around the Lieutenant like he was an object. An inconvenience, for making you want him so badly. You voicelessly went over to the counter in the infirmary, resuming the charting you were occupied with before he was rushed into your care. Still, with your back turned to him, his eyes were boring holes into you. He didn’t need to be there; he was free to go. But he didn’t, and it was aggravating.

One minute you were beaming for the exit, the next his hand clamped around your arm, preventing you from making your exit. “Just… stop. For a minute.” He says, releasing the hand when you look down at how tightly he was gripping you.

“Hold this against me all you want, alright? Hate me, I don’t care.” Simon sighed, rolling his injured shoulder slightly from the strain of getting up too quickly. His feet dragged slightly as he made his way toward the door, standing by the exit of the med bay.

“One day you’ll wise up and realize I’m not what you need, Kid. Think about it, at least.” The door to the infirmary came to a slow close behind him, a disheartening contrast to the slam he left you with yesterday.

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』

Weeks passed and the initial sting of the Simon situation had begun to dilute itself.

You spent most evenings passing up a night out; instead, you were working on the piles of charts that needed filling out, or something as mundane as taking inventory for the infirmary. Tasks that are mind-numbing enough to keep your mind on work, and only work. If your goal was to forget your feelings, you failed. If it was to spend enough time alone to truly know what you wanted, you won that one.

For the first time in a while, you were caught up on the workload. The bliss of free time wouldn’t last long, so perhaps that’s why you decided to go out for drinks. Maybe you just wanted to wallow in self-pity; the root explanation didn’t matter.

It was the least they could do — considering how often you’d kept an artery from spurting blood or the number of times you’d had to fight their squirming while attempting delicate sutures. Sergeant MacTavish especially, if you were being honest. He was the worst of your patients, except for the obvious masked brooding one.

Now, you found yourself perched on a bar stool, where you’d remained stoic for about two hours now. So deep in focus, you didn’t even recognize the drink in your hands. One of the guys had asked if you wanted one, you nodded, and now here you were. On your third one. The third time you merely took what was slid across the bar top and sipped on it, no matter how much the bitter taste made your taste buds cringe.

“Can I top you off?” The bartender made his rounds again, using a rag to wipe off the surrounding countertops. Your eyes looked off to the side, observing different levels of intoxication from both the 141 and the other rowdy patrons.

The night was coming to a close, another drink wouldn’t be wise. You weren’t here to get hammered; you were here to be somewhere other than a sterile room. “No, thank you,” you slid your empty glass in his direction, then a healthy tip for the good service. He didn’t once ask why you weren’t interacting with the party you came with, or why your eyes barely looked up from the varnish on the bar. To explain to him why would be downright mortifying, and you were never good at coming up with believable excuses. Therefore, he’d earned the cash tip and then some.

Price and Gaz were the first to leave, after neatly stacking all the empty glasses that covered their booth, of course. Next, the very drunk Sergeant stumbled out of there, making the short walk to his flat to sleep off the intoxication. Surely, he’s going to require a banana bag at the base tomorrow. Around them, the servers had begun stacking the chairs and collecting the tickets to finalize the rest of the unpaid tabs. The perfect time to slip away — right when the mob of drunks huddled around the front door. No questions, no awkward conversations about carpooling; no chance of being in a cab with him again.

The universe must’ve been on your side because there was no sign of Simon currently. Not that you two would have interacted, but it was much easier to walk by an empty seat rather than one occupied by him. The warm lighting dimmed slightly as the lights in the pub were shut off one by one, prompting you to scoot off your stool and get going finally.

Behind you, the door to the men’s room closed with a small squeak, and there he was. His frame cast a large shadow over the dim light the dated sconces produced, as the two of you made brief eye contact. It wasn’t a returned gaze of unnerve or upset, just… nothing. That’s what prompted your final exit from the bar, pushing open the glass door and starting down the pavement. You didn’t mind the walk, either, not after nearly an hour and a half of sitting motionless on an uncomfortable stool.

The streetlights were faulty and had a constant dim flicker. Your only guide was the lights of the few businesses still open and the cool-hued moonlight casting feeble rays on the damp streets.

Your coat was wrapped around you tightly, yet it did little against the chill in the air. So bitter, it felt like it was seeping into your bones. Paired with the unsavory anticipation of walking these streets at night, no amount of warmth could reduce the unease.

From the depths of the darkness, came an unwelcome sound — the crude whistle of a passing car. Your heart skipped a beat, the pace of your steps quickening involuntarily. The eyes on you were that of a malevolent force, one that quite literally came from the shadowy roads around you. As the car crept with wheels at a crawl to remain alongside you, you dared a glance.

A trio of jeering faces with smirks plastered across their lips like badges of dominance. One in the backseat with his upper body hanging out, the man in the passenger seat the worst of them all. Every remark, every innuendo reduces your already fragile sense of security. Your arms folded across your chest as you kept your head down, watching your legs carry you in any direction to get you out of this, no matter what road you ended up on by the end of it.

The harsh glare of the car’s headlights felt like a spotlight, illuminating your vulnerability. In a matter of seconds, you had been reduced to an object. Merely an unwilling participant in their twisted game.

Click—click.

The distinct sound of someone racking the slide of a pistol immediately behind you. “Piss off.”

His familiar voice rang stern and commanding. Your head turned to face Simon, seeing his gun indeed unholstered and held at his side, paired with his puffed chest and furrowed brows. The car's windows rolled up immediately, followed by the whiz of it speeding down the street. Simon watched until the headlights were no longer visible, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

One minute, the echo of words and phrases you never wanted to be repeated. And now, nothing but the woosh of the wind and his heavy labored breathing against his balaclava. For just a moment, nothing that happened between the two of you mattered.

It was just you, astounded and allayed, and him — the savior who wouldn’t have hesitated to crack skulls against the pavement.

“You alright?” He asks, though his eyes remain glued to the sketchy streets around him, searching for any sign of threats. You merely nod, following the motion of his fingers as he flicks the safety back on, placing the piece back into his jacket holster. Nothing sobers you up like the sight of a loaded gun, that was obvious.

It wasn’t exactly your first ordeal with predatory men, but this instance was particularly bleak. Perhaps it was your buzz, perhaps it was the sight of Simon with his pistol at the ready, perhaps it was your adrenaline.

That was just a series of questions better left unanswered.

Silence was the best conversation for someone like Simon, especially given the circumstances. Neither of you was going to complain, nor were you going to force the clichés of fussing over the other. His hand found the small of your back, steering you in the direction of his hotel. He didn't have a flat in town, his only homes were the base or moderately priced suites.

Tonight, it was the latter — the room he booked in anticipation of a night of heavy drinking, even a hookup if the events of this evening were less grim. Though, he hadn’t drunk much of anything, which was rare for him.

The light buzz was the only component you two seemed to have in common, at least from what you could take note of.

His shadow was a looming one; large and overtaking yours as he took meaningful strides down each street, still a guiding hand either hovering or clamping down when you crossed the street. You could protest and insist that you stick to your original plan of walking back to the base. But it was a futile argument to have with Simon, not after the sickening degradation you made it through.

Those men were nothing but large shadows emitted from small men. They would’ve driven away, most likely. However… something happening to you while you’re in his sights? That’s not a gamble the Lieutenant had to consider for long. The only reason he hadn’t stepped in sooner was because you had made it so far down the street in an attempt to avoid him. But when he heard the engine slow to a hum, observing how it matched your speed, those were his brief moments of thought.

Seconds following, the echo of their voices dripping with violent, impure implications — he had unholstered his pistol and power-walked down the street before his mind could catch up. There wasn’t a moment of it he’d do differently.

Not even now, as he’s approaching the door to his room. Not as he’s ushering you inside, espying as you shiver from both the cold and the unease of it all. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were walking that distance.

“The bed’s yours,” Simon mutters, slipping his jacket off his broad shoulders. Though, you’ve made no effort to respond. You’re too lost in focus, palming the icy zipper of your coat and slowly splitting it open, until the weight of it is off you. It’s tossed onto the floor, a defeated crumble — as if even your wardrobe is mocking your numbness.

Your head finally perks up at the sound of Simon sliding the keycard along the oak entry table, followed by the sudden realization that he had said something to you. “I’m sorry, what did you say before?” You sigh, eyes squinted in forced attention.

His head nods in the direction of the bed; plush white sheets that were still fresh and untouched. “I can take the pull-out.” It wasn’t a suggestion, either. Though his tone is as blunt as ever, his gaze is uncharacteristically amicable.

“It’s your room, Ghost. I’m not taking the bed.” You let out a scoff, pulling off your shoes next. The pity wasn’t necessary, nor was it going to be accepted with eagerness.

He let out a lengthy sigh, cringing when you used his callsign. Mainly at himself for being so sharp with you weeks prior and insisting you refrain from using his name. “Don’t argue with me. Take the bed.” He shuffled over to the nightstand, collecting the few belongings that were resting there, then placing them on the entry table.

Well, you had your orders, and you knew by now it was easier to follow them.

Your eyes scanned the suite in front of you; beige walls throughout, a small kitchenette in the corner, one bed and couch, a dated box TV posed in front of the space, and of course, a bathroom. It was clean, which was good enough for both of you. Especially you, right now. “I’m gonna wash up first,” you set down your bag and trudged to the washroom, letting out a defeated exhale when you were finally faced with the reflection in the mirror.

Eyes glossy and foggy with melancholy, hair askew from the unforgiving breeze outside, fingers still shaking as they grip the faux-marble counter.

After wetting a cloth and running some cold tap water along your skin, it was the spark your senses needed to realign. With a deep inhale and exhale, you exited the bathroom, wearing the hotel robe as your nightwear.

“How’s the shoulder?” The question came suddenly, but there were very few topics to discuss with Simon. You stood in between the bed and the pullout couch, the one he had yet to make with the spare sheets. And he, who was in the kitchenette pouring himself a glass of whatever from the fridge's pitcher.

Within the time you were washing up, he had changed into his version of nightwear — sweatpants and a charcoal athletic tee. “Healed just fine. You did well.” Simon makes a show of it, rolling and stretching the shoulder that was once tender and inflamed.

His praises fell short when masked with his scowl. No matter his bluntness, you still felt like an intruder in his evening. He was never one for company, especially in his private space, but here the two of you were. It was a toss-up; should you mention the obvious? Could things get much worse between you and him, by this point?

You leaned against the closest wall. “I’m not a child, you know that right?” Though it sounded confrontational, it was merely a nonchalant utterance. All frustrations spilled out nearly as a defeated mutter.

Simon scoffed heavily; eyes hooded as he blinked a few times to ensure he would articulate himself properly. He lifts his mask and takes a sip of his water, shaking his head as you continue to stare him down. You were persistent, that was apparent.

“You’re right,” he set down his glass, taking a few steps closer. “But you’re a good person. A good doctor.” His hands cupped your cheeks tightly to shake some sense into you. His last-ditch effort to convince you to move on from your feelings. You felt a rush of emotions pumping through you at once, watching intently as he spoke with such vigor. A potent mix of tenderness and firmness — all embodied into one man.

“You can find so much better than me, than this place.” Your lips slumped into a frown as his words persisted as if letting them bounce right off of you. There were so many parts of you that he saw in himself, so violently he couldn’t stay frustrated. “Quit getting in your own way, and you might see it.” His thumbs gave a small caress, and then his eyes glanced you up and down with softness. The irony of it was striking, considering Simon was his own worst enemy, especially right now.

His calloused fingers were like your own personal rush, palpable enough to make your hair stand up. “There’s nobody else I want, Simon.” You replied with a match of firmness, yet your expression was anything but frustrated.

The close proximity was saccharine and keenly awaited by both of you, though only one party was making an effort to show it.

Simon shuddered slightly, his hands running from your cheeks to the base of your neck, then back up once more. “That want is going to be the death of both of us, love.” He said softly as if he was finally accepting the reality of his feelings.

The wise decision to break it off wasn’t weighing on him anymore, not even a little bit.

You stared at him through your lashes, a hint of a smile on your lips, “I’m used to death, Lieutenant, aren’t you?”

This generated a small snicker from him, this time one you could actually see. There had been plenty concealed by his mask over the months. Every bit of you was screaming to lean in, but the longer this banter went on, the better for him. There was no sense in rushing an act that didn’t need to be rushed, especially if it was doomed to happen at some point.

“I wouldn’t even know how to… You— you haven’t done half the things—” His fingers tightened around the base of your neck slightly, head tilted as he made his best attempt at retorting. For someone with such conviction every other time, he was noticeably beating around the bush. It was amusing, to say the least.

He mutters something under his breath, something of an expression of defeat, then leans in until his parted lips are an inch from yours.

“Then teach me.” You breathed, finally allowing your hands to hold onto his wrists as he cupped your face. Simon’s eyes blazed as they met yours — smoky with the intense burn of lust.

Within seconds, his lips found yours with brazen desire. It was everything you pictured it to be and more; every last bit of ego-driven pettiness fizzled out at once. The scent of his last cigarette, his aftershave from that morning, the faint stench of bourbon on his breath — all surrounding you like an enslaving cloud. His fingers roamed again, this time from your shoulders down to your waist until he could fumble with the tie of the robe.

Simon’s feet gave yours a nudge in the direction of the bed behind you, a silent guide until the backs of your knees finally found the edge of it. An arm snaked downward until he could lift one of your legs around his waist, settling his weight on the bed so you were on top of him. Every action was mended with a prolonged, calculated kiss on his end.

The robe had opened entirely, revealing you in nothing but your panties underneath. With more movement, it drooped down your arms until it was eventually thrown off in haste, the same quickness when you slid your undergarments down. But Simon was in no rush, at least not while he was savoring the foreplay. “Scoot up for me,” he mutters, nodding his head upwards subtly. His request is met with a look of confusion, but you do as he says, shifting upwards until you’re straddling his upper torso.

“No. Up.” Simon clamps a hand around your hip, maintaining eye contact as he readjusts you further until your bare cunt is hovering over his face. Now, the realization of his idea strikes you like a bolt of lightning.

There was nothing to be embarrassed about, but that didn’t make the request less daunting. “No one’s ever…” You whisper it as if attempting to admit it without him actually hearing you. But he did, and it made your face head up. Especially now, seeing the mouth to match his eyes — even the tip of his nose, squished slightly from the fold of the fabric.

“Ever what, sweetheart?” He bites down on his bottom lip lightly, rubbing circles on your thighs. Though his eyes are darting from yours to your heat, back and forth as you feel a desperate shiver consume you.

You gave up on answering him, which was only met with a playful scoff. “Relax, and sit.” Once again, instead of letting you move, he’s taken matters into his own hands. There would be no debate about his airflow or whether he could handle your weight on his head. Simon pushed you down until you had successfully straddled his face, slick pooling against his tongue.

Your breathing hitches as he so suddenly thrusts you upon him, wasting no time to lap at your sex. He begins by circling your clit slowly, eyes fluttering shut in focus so he can maintain a pattern. Second by second, you’ve produced more than enough slick for an audible squelch with every plunge of his skilled mouth. It’s a new feeling to get used to — plagued by pleasure and reliant on every flick, yet you’re in the position of power. Bucking your hips against his tongue, using the headboard to brace yourself the longer this goes on.

By the time your breaths have gotten heavier and the moans have escaped you, Simon began delving his tongue inside you for a few turns, before devouring your nub once more. It was methodical, every switch of his pace, every roaming digit heightening your pleasure. He cupped your breast, thumbing your hardened nipple with every grind. The other hand maintained its tight grip on your thigh, merely to keep your trembles under control — which were only increasing as your climax approached.

Your nails scraped against the wooden headboard, until your tensed fingers finally found his ashy blond locks, gripping his scalp for dear life. When he hummed against you, there was an involuntary spasm of your hips, unleashing the minutes of swirling in your abdomen.

His tongue bullied you through your climax, and then some. His slobbers turned into minute licks, merely playing with the wetness coating his chin and reddened lips. When you recuperated enough for the grinds of your hips to slow, you ascended your weight off his mouth — ogling a string of spit and arousal still connecting the two organs, until it eventually snapped and soaked into his shirt.

Simon pants for a moment as his lungs take in the air again, and then his fingers start circling your hips. “What did we learn, love?” He asks with a hint of bluster, both in his oral skills and his callback to you saying ‘teach me’ while eye-fucking him. Just like before, he wasted little time answering his own questions, only this time your excuse for lull was bouncing back from the orgasm of a lifetime.

“Next time I tell you to sit,” he flips the position so you’re flat on your stomach, “you’re going to sit, right?” Simon whispers into your ear wantonly, all while his fingers find the waistband of his sweats and briefs at once, rolling them down to his mid-thigh.

You turn your head to the side against the mattress, letting out a slight chuckle. “I’ll never make the same mistake twice.”

He chuckles dryly, taking note of your coy attempt at humor. “So you’re sayin’... we’ll be doing this again?” He’s leaned closer now, warm breath tickling your earlobe. In your blind spot, he’s lined up with your entrance and palming himself. The prospect of getting together again wasn’t one he was going to refuse, perhaps even after he was done thinking with his dick. It was apparent even this early on that it wouldn’t be a series of dispassionate hookups, not with you.

“Maybe,” you retorted, nibbling on your lip, “think I should be the judge of that?”

“You’re right,” Simon replies, slowly inching his way inside of you with little verbal warning. But, judging by your mouth agape in rapture, he has done something right so far. He lets out a guttural moan, bending one of your legs slightly to get better access. His whole weight is practically pressing on you, containing your urge to twitch as his thrusts become mindful and calculated.

His hands haven’t left you once; whether they’re gripping your hips, your shoulders, or the nape of your neck. “Oh, fuck.” He quakes, slowly rolling his head to the side as your walls tense around him with each deep grind. By now, he’s bottomed out inside you — a sinful, tight compress of your pussy that almost restricts him.

He’s not rushing now, either, but every rock of his hips does gain some intensity. They’re well-spaced enough to keep you on your toes, yet quick enough to make your eyes roll. By now, the sensitivity of the first orgasm is spilling over onto your second like a violent riptide jostling your senses around. Every urge to savor this moment, to let your body take its time, is utterly abandoned. 

Simon leans forward and begins nipping and licking along your shoulder blades, making a pattern of it. Jawline, to nape, to the blades — coated with a line of his saliva and teeth marks. It’s the only humane way he can keep himself contained.

Your walls are clenching around him rapidly now, once he’s teased that gratifying spot deep within you, “gonna cum for me again, sweetheart? Keep takin’ me so well?” His words are nearly more addicting than his cock; the British rasp that gets thicker the closer he is to finishing.

The nod you supply is pathetic, at best. It earns you a few fingers in your mouth; hollowing your cheeks and slobbering as you sob around them from your fast-approaching climax. The pace is agonizing, but enough when he uses his other hand to thrust your body onto his length, angling your cunt in a way that finally hits a bullseye on that spot.

Your throat clenches, as does the rest of your muscles when you dissolve into pleasure. What was once a tight coil of tension in your abdomen, was now waves of ecstasy coursing through you — prolonged by his now sloppy thrusts. You go limp against the mattress as he rides out the rest of his, your ears feasting on the curses Simon’s muttering.

With a halt, the fingers in your mouth are withdrawn. Both of his hands reside on your hips, holding you in place as he drains every last drop of his orgasm within you. For a few seconds, all you hear are his quivers and the shuffle of the skin-to-skin.

Then, every ounce of his restraint shatters once the climax passes. About half his weight lands on you as he slumps forward, pulling his length from you and wilting against the creased sheets. “Was that a yes?” He asks, snaking an arm around your shoulders until you roll over to face him.

“To what?” You huff a few times whilst running your fingertips along his arm scars. To say you were in shock, was an understatement. He was everything you were expecting—and more—in the sack. All the pandering, all the ‘getting in your own way’ on both sides erupted into a climax. Or multiple, for that matter.

“Doin’ this again?” Simon replies, pushing your head against his peck.

“Hm, I think I might need a few more test drives before I come to a final decision.” You say, raising your brows to match your playful tone. It was a stark contrast to the weeks prior, even if the events leading up to sharing a hotel room with him were less than pleasant.

And to him; he lost all sense of control when you took a stab for him. He just had a way of hiding it—the keyword being; had.

At the thought of it, his thumb finds the now healed scar where the knife penetrated, reflecting in his mind about all the events that led up to this. Two different bodies, two different ages, two different persons, yet both are thinking about history.

“I think that can be arranged, Doc.”

TAGLIST: @hyperfixationwhore @starlettemoony @sapientiia @igotmajordaddyissues @kyuupidwrites @ansaturn @bb-ss-ll @delilah-grimes @ajordan2020 @certified-lana-del-rey-lover (it won't let me tag some of you properly)

[prentissluvr]

love you again — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied exes to lovers, canon typical injury and blood, hospitals, pet names (honey, sweetheart), 2K words. requested !

summary : you and sam have a past that’s rekindled during the panicked moments where he finds you bleeding out on a hunt.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

sam was thinking about you yesterday, again. he’s been wondering how you are, wondering if you’d hate a text from him, wondering if you’d pick up a call. he’s been wondering a whole lot, and it’s mostly about you. some about himself. he wonders how to apologize for growing distant, he wonders if he’d be better for you if you gave him the chance. he wonders if you blame him and hopes that you don’t because he doesn’t blame you. it was his fault for letting things start to fade out first, but for a while it stung that you never tried to bring him back to you.

back then, it was what he needed. someone that would hold his hand tighter were he to loosen his own grip. and he supposes you needed someone who was already sure of things, who wouldn’t pull away in the first place. so, he doesn’t blame you.

sam also wonders about silly little things. like how you might’ve reacted to your favorite west coast family diner shutting down. he was disappointed when he found out, but he was downright sad for you. he wonders about what kind of hunts you're going on and he wonders if you still carry that little old silver blade that desperately needs replacing.

and since he was thinking about you yesterday, that means he thought about you this morning, in the hazy moments between waking and getting up and going. since then it’s been all research and interviews and cracking the case the second day in town. before you cross his mind again, he and dean are in the impala on the way to take out a nest of vampires.

but of all the many times that sam has thought of you since you parted, not once did he envision finding you like this.

sprawled out on the dirty ground in a pool of blood.

certainly, he’s thought about you dying and how completely horrifying that would be. how sad and heartbreaking. all of the things he’d never get to say to you. but he always thought he’d hear through a mutual hunter friend, never that he’d be the one to find you bleeding out.

the moment he realizes the body on the floor is yours, all of the blood drains from his face. he gasps out your name and tuckes his machete away as he drops to your side. your eyes are still open, and your breath comes out with a horrid, shuddering sound.

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he assures you, immediately locating the wound on your neck and pressing a steady hand against it to slow the blood. your eyes are already fluttering, and you look like you’ll pass out any moment now. “stay with me, honey,” he says, voice both stern and soft. the sweet pet name slips out on instinct. you’re his honey, even now. maybe especially now.

“suh-sam?” you rasp out, fighting for breath. you can’t even figure out if he’s real. maybe you’re delirious as you bleed out pathetically. you killed all the vamps except the one that got to you. that one fled when car headlights filtered through the drawn blinds of the room, before it could fully sink its fangs into your neck. if it had gotten to your artery, you’d probably be dead already, and that’s the only thing that gives you hope. plus, you realize that the headlights of the car must have been sam, and most likely dean too. that means it must really be him, after all this time.

“it’s me,” sam assures you. “i got you. just keep your eyes open, okay?”

you let out a shuddering breath in response. “th-there’s j-just one more,” you grunt out, “h-he r-ran.”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. dean’s got it,” sam hushes you swiftly, confused for a moment before realizing that you’re talking about the vamps. “don’t worry about talking, alright, honey?” he won’t be able to stop calling you that, not when he could lose you, in a far worse way this time. “just keep those eyes open for me, and you’ll be alright.”

while you almost want to protest, to say something to him, anything, you stop trying to talk. it’s taking far too much effort. you really wish you could comfort him, tell him that you’ll be alright. but in this state, you have to opt for bringing your shaking hand up and wrapping it loosely around his wrist. you give it a small squeeze to show him that you’re there, you’re trying so hard to stay awake just for him.

his heart aches as he feels your weak hold around his wrist and understands its meaning. sometimes he forgets how well he knows you, and right now, it sends a pang of desperation through him.

“i really need you to stay with me,” he says, mantaining that soft and steady tone to keep you grounded. you want to stay with him too, you really do. you want to keep looking at his face, even though it’s blurry and frowning. though, while you do prefer his smile, you’ve always thought that he looks beautiful no matter what. it’s probably cruel of you to find his distressed expression attractive right now, but it’s also true that you’re a little delirious and maybe bleeding out, so you don’t suppose you can be blamed.

it really bothers you that you can’t talk. more than anything, you want to reassure him. you also want to tell him that he’s been sorely missed, that his hair looks very nice like this, and that you really don’t want to die because that means you won’t have the chance to kiss him ever again. maybe you should just say that you’d like the chance to kiss him again. or that you don’t want to die. you’re not really sure.

“dean!” sam yells suddenly, voice gruff and loud and tinged with panic. if you weren’t slipping away, you’d have flinched. things begin to blur then; sam picks you up and practically cradles you in his arms. he’s so soft and he’d be shaky if he could afford to be. but he absolutely can’t, so he’s unwavering instead.

“jesus,” mutters another worried voice, distant, but assumed to be dean’s. you try to focus on the feeling of your head on sam’s shoulder. he’s so solid and broad and that might be the only thing keeping you from just floating away.

everything fades in and out. sam’s big, encompassing hand pressed against your neck. so big that it overflows and his thumb pushes into the flesh of your cheek. your head’s still on his shoulder, but you're in the car now, slumped against familiar leather seats. the sound of the rumbling engine fills your ears and then you’re glad to hear sam again.

“we’re almost to the hospital, sweetheart,” he tells you gently. you grunt out in acknowledgment, soft and quiet. you can’t remember ever hearing his voice like this before. all panicked and sweet and tender. when dean gets hurt, his voice gets all gruff. with you, it’s this never ending gentleness, edged with sharp fear.

in your position, sam or dean probably would’ve made it to the hospital without passing out. but you’re not good with blood loss, even when it could’ve been far worse. you’re scared of dying, as always, but when your eyes flutter closed and your consciousness tilts into darkness, you feel so secure in sam’s arms that you figure you’ll be okay. it’s a strange feeling, and you likely won’t recall it when you wake up.

sam himself is far less calm than you when your head lolls forward.

“hey, hey, hey. honey, please don’t,” he urges, helpless at this point. his plea falls on deaf ears, of course. dean steps on the gas, driving far faster than is safe. it’s late though, and the roads are mostly clear.

sam keeps you close. sam has trouble parting from you at the hospital, but the doctor needs to treat you. everything’s a bit better when he’s told that you’ll be just fine after proper bandaging, rest, and a blood transfusion and iv. everything’s a lot better when he’s back by your side and holding your hand in his.

looking at your face now, cleaned of blood splatter and relaxed in sleep, he’s able to really take in the ways you’ve changed physically. you do look different, but not by too much. he’s mostly just enthralled with how beautiful you are.

there’s also the feeling of the jacket you were wearing, folded nicely across his lap. he’s not really sure why he put it there, instead of leaving it on the bottom of the bed where it was first laid out. but he picked it up, for some reason or another, and felt a lump in the pocket. he knows he probably shouldn’t have looked at your things, but he felt like he had to. sliding his hand into the worn fabric sends a rush through him. once, you held hands in your pocket when it was cold outside. he always runs warm, so you had decided to tuck his hand into your pocket like your own personal hand warmer.

in the pocket, he finds that old silver blade that he thinks about sometimes. it’s even more worn now, and he shakes his head at you softly, affectionately. he bought a new silver knife recently, and if you let him, he’s going to give it to you. then he sits in the chair by your side, placing the jacket in his lap before he takes your hand in his.

the first thing that you feel is a big hand wrapped around yours. and as you draw in a long breath, you know that it’s sam’s. that means that when you get your eyes to open—it’s a little hard right now—you’ll get to see him. another deep breath, and your eyes flutter open.

sam’s grip on your hand tightens a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your form, looking for discomfort or a way to give you his love. your own gaze settles on his face; his worried brows and small frown and pretty eyes.

“hi,” you whisper, voice hoarse and tired. you squeeze his hand back lightly.

“how you feeling?” he asks softly.

“i’m okay,” you offer, giving him a small smile. you’ve been far worse in the past, you’re just groggy and a little sore. honestly, it’s rare to be this well cared for after getting injured on a hunt, and with sam by your side, it’s sort of nice, even.

sam, of course, considers asking how you really are. but with the way you’re looking at him, all soft and… well, how you used to when things were uncomplicated, he accepts your answer. 

“good. you need anything? water?” he still needs to take care of you somehow.

you can’t help but smile at him again. “water would be nice,” you admit, knowing that it’ll make him feel better to be able to do something for you. that, and your throat really does burn with how dry it is. the gruffness of your voice reflects that. it’s oddly intimate when sam opens the water bottle at your bedside and brings it to your lips, ever careful when he tilts it and lets a bit of water flow into your softly opened lips. it’s intimate enough to make your face all warm with rushing blood.

you still love him. you really do. or maybe you love him again; you can feel that he’s different, and you know that you are, and somehow it feels like his hand fits in yours better tonight… or maybe it just feels more right now.

the time apart was needed, the way it happened still stings a little, and the way that you found each other again was less than ideal. well, sam certainly hates how it happened much more than you do. he had to do all the worrying, all the saving. you got to feel him holding you and hear him calling you honey and see him caring about you so much. so now, you’re just glad for the chance to kiss him again, because it’s that easy to tell that you have it.

[sammyluvr]

love you again — sam winchester

cw :gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied exes to lovers, canon typical injury and blood, hospitals, pet names (honey, sweetheart), 2K words. requested !

summary : you and sam have a past that’s rekindled during the panicked moments where he finds you bleeding out on a hunt.

sam was thinking about you yesterday, again. he’s been wondering how you are, wondering if you’d hate a text from him, wondering if you’d pick up a call. he’s been wondering a whole lot, and it’s mostly about you. some about himself. he wonders how to apologize for growing distant, he wonders if he’d be better for you if you gave him the chance. he wonders if you blame him and hopes that you don’t because he doesn’t blame you. it was his fault for letting things start to fade out first, but for a while it stung that you never tried to bring him back to you.

back then, it was what he needed. someone that would hold his hand tighter were he to loosen his own grip. and he supposes you needed someone who was already sure of things, who wouldn’t pull away in the first place. so, he doesn’t blame you.

sam also wonders about silly little things. like how you might’ve reacted to your favorite west coast family diner shutting down. he was disappointed when he found out, but he was downright sad for you. he wonders about what kind of hunts you’re going on and he wonders if you still carry that little old silver blade that desperately needs replacing.

and since he was thinking about you yesterday, that means he thought about you this morning, in the hazy moments between waking and getting up and going. since then it’s been all research and interviews and cracking the case the second day in town. before you cross his mind again, he and dean are in the impala on the way to take out a nest of vampires.

but of all the many times that sam has thought of you since you parted, not once did he envision finding you like this.

sprawled out on the dirty ground in a pool of blood.

certainly, he’s thought about you dying and how completely horrifying that would be. how sad and heartbreaking. all of the things he’d never get to say to you. but he always thought he’d hear through a mutual hunter friend, never that he’d be the one to find you bleeding out.

the moment he realizes the body on the floor is yours, all of the blood drains from his face. he gasps out your name and tuckes his machete away as he drops to your side. your eyes are still open, and your breath comes out with a horrid, shuddering sound.

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he assures you, immediately locating the wound on your neck and pressing a steady hand against it to slow the blood. your eyes are already fluttering, and you look like you’ll pass out any moment now. “stay with me, honey,” he says, voice both stern and soft. the sweet pet name slips out on instinct. you’re his honey, even now. maybe especially now.

“suh-sam?” you rasp out, fighting for breath. you can’t even figure out if he’s real. maybe you’re delirious as you bleed out pathetically. you killed all the vamps except the one that got to you. that one fled when car headlights filtered through the drawn blinds of the room, before it could fully sink its fangs into your neck. if it had gotten to your artery, you’d probably be dead already, and that’s the only thing that gives you hope. plus, you realize that the headlights of the car must have been sam, and most likely dean too. that means it must really be him, after all this time.

“it’s me,” sam assures you. “i got you. just keep your eyes open, okay?”

you let out a shuddering breath in response. “th-there’s j-just one more,” you grunt out, “h-he r-ran.”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. dean’s got it,” sam hushes you swiftly, confused for a moment before realizing that you’re talking about the vamps. “don’t worry about talking, alright, honey?” he won’t be able to stop calling you that, not when he could lose you, in a far worse way this time. “just keep those eyes open for me, and you’ll be alright.”

while you almost want to protest, to say something to him, anything, you stop trying to talk. it’s taking far too much effort. you really wish you could comfort him, tell him that you’ll be alright. but in this state, you have to opt for bringing your shaking hand up and wrapping it loosely around his wrist. you give it a small squeeze to show him that you’re there, you’re trying so hard to stay awake just for him.

his heart aches as he feels your weak hold around his wrist and understands its meaning. sometimes he forgets how well he knows you, and right now, it sends a pang of desperation through him.

“i really need you to stay with me,” he says, mantaining that soft and steady tone to keep you grounded. you want to stay with him too, you really do. you want to keep looking at his face, even though it’s blurry and frowning. though, while you do prefer his smile, you’ve always thought that he looks beautiful no matter what. it’s probably cruel of you to find his distressed expression attractive right now, but it’s also true that you’re a little delirious and maybe bleeding out, so you don’t suppose you can be blamed.

it really bothers you that you can’t talk. more than anything, you want to reassure him. you also want to tell him that he’s been sorely missed, that his hair looks very nice like this, and that you really don’t want to die because that means you won’t have the chance to kiss him ever again. maybe you should just say that you’d like the chance to kiss him again. or that you don’t want to die. you’re not really sure.

“dean!” sam yells suddenly, voice gruff and loud and tinged with panic. if you weren’t slipping away, you’d have flinched. things begin to blur then; sam picks you up and practically cradles you in his arms. he’s so soft and he’d be shaky if he could afford to be. but he absolutely can’t, so he’s unwavering instead.

“jesus,” mutters another worried voice, distant, but assumed to be dean’s. you try to focus on the feeling of your head on sam’s shoulder. he’s so solid and broad and that might be the only thing keeping you from just floating away.

everything fades in and out. sam’s big, encompassing hand pressed against your neck. so big that it overflows and his thumb pushes into the flesh of your cheek. your head’s still on his shoulder, but you’re in the car now, slumped against familiar leather seats. the sound of the rumbling engine fills your ears and then you’re glad to hear sam again.

“we’re almost to the hospital, sweetheart,” he tells you gently. you grunt out in acknowledgment, soft and quiet. you can’t remember ever hearing his voice like this before. all panicked and sweet and tender. when dean gets hurt, his voice gets all gruff. with you, it’s this never ending gentleness, edged with sharp fear.

in your position, sam or dean probably would’ve made it to the hospital without passing out. but you’re not good with blood loss, even when it could’ve been far worse. you’re scared of dying, as always, but when your eyes flutter closed and your consciousness tilts into darkness, you feel so secure in sam’s arms that you figure you’ll be okay. it’s a strange feeling, and you likely won’t recall it when you wake up.

sam himself is far less calm than you when your head lolls forward.

“hey, hey, hey. honey, please don’t,” he urges, helpless at this point. his plea falls on deaf ears, of course. dean steps on the gas, driving far faster than is safe. it’s late though, and the roads are mostly clear.

sam keeps you close. sam has trouble parting from you at the hospital, but the doctor needs to treat you. everything’s a bit better when he’s told that you’ll be just fine after proper bandaging, rest, and a blood transfusion and iv. everything’s a lot better when he’s back by your side and holding your hand in his.

looking at your face now, cleaned of blood splatter and relaxed in sleep, he’s able to really take in the ways you’ve changed physically. you do look different, but not by too much. he’s mostly just enthralled with how beautiful you are.

there’s also the feeling of the jacket you were wearing, folded nicely across his lap. he’s not really sure why he put it there, instead of leaving it on the bottom of the bed where it was first laid out. but he picked it up, for some reason or another, and felt a lump in the pocket. he knows he probably shouldn’t have looked at your things, but he felt like he had to. sliding his hand into the worn fabric sends a rush through him. once, you held hands in your pocket when it was cold outside. he always runs warm, so you had decided to tuck his hand into your pocket like your own personal hand warmer.

in the pocket, he finds that old silver blade that he thinks about sometimes. it’s even more worn now, and he shakes his head at you softly, affectionately. he bought a new silver knife recently, and if you let him, he’s going to give it to you. then he sits in the chair by your side, placing the jacket in his lap before he takes your hand in his.

the first thing that you feel is a big hand wrapped around yours. and as you draw in a long breath, you know that it’s sam’s. that means that when you get your eyes to open—it’s a little hard right now—you’ll get to see him. another deep breath, and your eyes flutter open.

sam’s grip on your hand tightens a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your form, looking for discomfort or a way to give you his love. your own gaze settles on his face; his worried brows and small frown and pretty eyes.

“hi,” you whisper, voice hoarse and tired. you squeeze his hand back lightly.

“how you feeling?” he asks softly.

“i’m okay,” you offer, giving him a small smile. you’ve been far worse in the past, you’re just groggy and a little sore. honestly, it’s rare to be this well cared for after getting injured on a hunt, and with sam by your side, it’s sort of nice, even.

sam, of course, considers asking how you really are. but with the way you’re looking at him, all soft and… well, how you used to when things were uncomplicated, he accepts your answer. 

“good. you need anything? water?” he still needs to take care of you somehow.

you can’t help but smile at him again. “water would be nice,” you admit, knowing that it’ll make him feel better to be able to do something for you. that, and your throat really does burn with how dry it is. the gruffness of your voice reflects that. it’s oddly intimate when sam opens the water bottle at your bedside and brings it to your lips, ever careful when he tilts it and lets a bit of water flow into your softly opened lips. it’s intimate enough to make your face all warm with rushing blood.

you still love him. you really do. or maybe you love him again; you can feel that he’s different, and you know that you are, and somehow it feels like his hand fits in yours better tonight… or maybe it just feels more right now.

the time apart was needed, the way it happened still stings a little, and the way that you found each other again was less than ideal. well, sam certainly hates how it happened much more than you do. he had to do all the worrying, all the saving. you got to feel him holding you and hear him calling you honey and see him caring about you so much. so now, you’re just glad for the chance to kiss him again, because it’s that easy to tell that you have it.

[perseephoneee]

blood sharing (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: blood sharing (obvs), allusions to sex, female identifying reader

a/n: this is purely self indulgent. i'm not good with smutty things, but it's kinktober, so here's the only thing i can contribute. anywhooo. enjoy?

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

He was hungry, and you could tell.

The way he stood as far apart from you was the first sign. Then, the veins under his eyes that he tried so desperately to hide by turning his face. The clenching and unclenching of his fists, like he fought the urge to run across the room and suck you dry.

"Go and get food," you said, arms crossed uncomfortably as you took in the starving vampire.

"I can't leave you, darling," Kol cooed, looking up at you. "I'm supposed to stay in this room and protect you. Brothers orders." "And you listen to your brothers?"

"For pretty girls, I'll listen to them," Kol flirted, but you could tell it was forced. He hadn't had food in a while, and he was in here because of you.

Guilt gripped your heart, as well as morbid curiosity. You harbored a school-girl crush on Kol, and the cheesy novels you read always made you wonder what it would feel like to be the victim of a vampire's appetite. Plus, you felt bad that he was struggling. At least, that's what you told yourself.

"You can feed on me," you whispered. Kol heard you, though, his head immediately shooting up to look at you.

"Bad idea, luv."

"I trust you to not, uh, kill me," you chuckled nervously. Kol dared take a step closer to you, and you fought the urge to step back. He was intimidating, albeit a cheeky bastard. Your heart raced as he approached you, towering above your smaller form.

"Is this out of the kindness of your heart or some other need?" Kol murmured, reaching up to play with a strand of your hair. Your breath became shaky as you dared to make eye contact with the original vampire. His eyes were darker than usual, and his gaze was fixed on your mouth, on the way you licked your lips. "See, darling, I think you want me biting you, taking you as mine." Kol circled you, standing behind your form as he pulled your hair away from your neck. You gulped, your eyes fluttering close as his fingers traced over your carotid artery. His other hand traced up and down your forearm, creating goosebumps in his wake.

"I don't think you have the guts to bite me," you whispered, challenging him. The reverberating dark chuckle told you that you were stepping into dangerous territory.

"Is that what you think?" Kol mumbled into your ear, his breath hot on your cheek, his hands gripping your arms. "I'm happy to prove you wrong."

He didn't give you any warning before biting into your neck. The pain that flared was nothing compared to the pleasure you derived from feeling his fangs. God, you were such a masochist.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, a shaky breath leaving you. His arm wrapped around your middle, holding you to him. The warmth and icey fire surging through your body was nothing you felt before. Kol pulled away, licking over the wound before kissing it better. He bit his wrist, blood welling up as he held it to your lips. You wanted to moan as the saccharine blood touched your tastebuds. You grabbed his wrist close to you, and he didn't bother stepping away from your form. When you removed his wrist, you dared turn and make eye contact. Kol's gaze was nothing short of lustful, and your inhibitions were already low. You kissed him, enjoying the growl that left him as he turned you in his arms to hold you better. Somehow, the kiss made you as high as sharing blood. Pulling away, you didn't dare go too far as a coy smile danced across your lips.

"I have an idea of what we can do to pass the time," you smiled, looking up at him through heavy lashes. Kol grinned, leaning down and picking you up in one fell swoop.

"I like where your head is at."

[thebiballerina]

Yes, that's how my dad got arterial bleeding that one time.

the first bite of an apple feels so good and the next few bites are good too but then the rest kinda suck just trying to avoid the core. in my perfect world i would eat the first bite of every apple and leave the rest for someone else

[siblingskissing]

BNHA Couple Kissing Aesthetic

As always- this is a post of some of MY favorite BNHA Ships (aka the first ones i thought of) so if you don't see your fave/ don't like these ships- feel free to request!

EraserMic

These two kiss slow and passionate- being pro heroes, plus teachers (and in Yamada's case- a DJ), you don't have much energy or down time with your partner, so they make the most of it by giving as much attention and energy to each other as possible. Sometimes these kisses lead to more, but more often one or both of them fall asleep kissing- waking up with each other's morning breath. They both find it gross yet never seem to care by time they meet again that night. They're a gross old man couple <3

TodoDeku

(I think I did well finding a gif that looks exactly like them) These two are very touch starved- so when they kiss they both put their all into it. Shouto especially. He loves to hold Izuku's face and practically absorbs him every time they kiss. Doesn't matter if they're at home or in public- he is going to make sure Izuku feels everything he feels whenever they touch. Izuku just wishes they didn't have so many headlines with photos of them practically undressing on battlegrounds

BakuDeku

Like TodoDeku- both Katsuki and Izuku are prone to heavy and heat filled kisses. And with these two's history? Who could blame them? Katsuki likes showing off that he had Izuku- that Izuku belongs by his side- neck and neck with him- and Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't adore it. So much missed time between them also fuels this passion- both so desperate to have as much of each other as they can because they both know their jobs are dangerous. They don't want to regret not having enough

ShinDeku

Sort of like EraserMic- these two are very low energy when it comes to kisses. That's not to say they aren't passionate- but with Hitoshi's low energy levels from insomnia and Izuku's caring nature- they both have found ways to show affection without causing the other to fret over nonexistent relationship problems. During the day it's no uncommon to see Izuku plant kisses on Hitoshi's cheeks- or for Hitoshi to stop him and kiss the closest piece of skin he can (the most common is Izuku's knuckles or his shoulders). But when they're alone its usually slow and sensual kisses.

KiriMina

These two are the Paparazzi's favorite pairing- It's not rare to find photoshoots of these two being affectionate- whether they're in a relationship or not. Before they ever got together they were touchy- Eijirou always holding onto Ashido, touching her leg, her hands, once they had a photo go around of him holding one of her horns as she was interviewed for her latest takedown. Kisses were not uncommon either. Cheek kisses, kisses on the lips, foreheads, hands, the leg if it's close- these two were so confused when people assumed they were dating despite how affectionate they were in school. However when they began dating it only got worse. Now if Eijirou or Ashido even think there's a camera they'll be making out.

KiriBaku

What do you get when you mix and unstoppable force with an immovable wall? You get some of the meanest kissers you've ever witnessed. These two are not afraid to get concerningly into their kisses- I'm talking teeth, blood, spit and sweat. Katsuki isn't afraid to cut his lips on Eijirou's still unbreakable lips and Eijirou isn't afraid to taste blood. They get called the Hannigram couple because of how often they accidentally lick each other's blood and they only greet it with laughter.

TogaChako

Did you know there are two arteries that run across your forehead? Himiko does- and so does Uraraka now as they start dating. I know we all adore the vampire symbolism that comes with neck kisses- and trust me, they do too, but necks aren't the greatest spots for blood flow- foreheads however- foreheads are great spots to feel for arteries and veins. Himiko loves kisses over the Supraorbital Artery since it falls right by the eyebrow- a romantic spot already to kiss- but because of her blood based quirk, she can actually feel the pulse of her heart easily from the artery. She will kiss there whenever she is anxious- or two remind herself that Uraraka is alive and healthy. She also likes feeling her pulse quicken whenever Uraraka gets embarrassed.

DabiHawks

These two are used to quick and short flings with one another- its apart of their jobs. They both know if either side found out about them that it'd be taken from them- either by a decaying hand or by corporate measures. They know their relationship is dangerous- not only for the other but themselves too, so they keep their kisses to the confinement of their midnight meetings. Always in hidden shadows- alleyways and trees that Hawks flies them to. They kiss with everything- often with Hawks knocking his teeth on one of Dabi's staples or his piercings if the kisses travel. Dabi is often the reason why Hawks carries Chapstick- because when you're kissing for hours at a time, it gets dry fast.

TodoShinDeku

These three are kiss fanatics. Mixing Shouto's need for affection, Izuku's tendency to care for everybody at once, and Hitoshi's love for witnessing his partners- you'll often find them tucked away like these. Shouto and Izuku usually lock lips, while Hitoshi is usually late to join, but just as happy to kiss at the skin available to him. That isn't to say he never gets to steal lips for himself- but he's often just happy to watch the two of them, touching their hands and shoulders to show his appreciation for the view. That often earns him a hand in his hair, or fingers on his biceps as the two open their eyes to watch him in return. They make it a show- just for him and they all adore it