#I'm GOING to get a job and move out eventually and it will be GOOD. and in the meantime I will make living here good too dangit

[brown-little-robin]

it went fine yesterday btw :}

[bunmurdock]

Just the thought of Matt comforting you when you’ve reached your breaking point.

He can hear the way your breathing is uneven, the taste of salt in the air as you blink back tears, the way you’re trying to hold yourself together and insist you’re fine.

Yet all it takes is him pulling you close in a hug and telling you to let it that breaks the dam and you sob into that embrace. He holds you tighter, his own heart aching as your sobs rip through you. He never lets go for a second, comforting you throughout.

And when you’re done, if you’re not feeling up for talking about it right then, Matt gently lifts you up and carries you to the bedroom. He makes sure to grab some tissues and has you drink some water after all the tears you shed. And after some more reassurance (“Whenever you’re ready to talk about it sweetheart, I’ll be here. Get some rest”), he’ll lay down and hold you close. You curl up into him, your head against his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat like a lullaby as you let sleep take you.

You know the ache in your chest and the exhaustion in your mental state will have drained you even when you eventually wake up, but at least Matt will be there to help you through it

(From someone who is absolutely going through it and know Matt’s hugs might probably fix me, if only for a while)

i'm so sorry for what you're going through, nonnie. ♡

matt murdock would sense the shift in you the moment you step inside your shared home—your heart beating just a little too fast, your footsteps heavy with exhaustion. and he’d move toward you, no questions asked, arms already opening to pull you in. “come here, sweetheart,” he’d murmur, voice low and soft, and that’s it—all the strength you’ve been trying so hard to hold onto crumbles.

he’d hug you so tightly—so completely—that it’d feel like nothing bad could touch you while you’re wrapped in his arms. one hand would cradle the back of your head, pressing you into his chest, while the other rubs slow, soothing circles on your back. “you don’t have to hold it in,” he’d whisper, his breath warm against your hair. “just let it out, baby. i’ve got you.” his words would crack something open in you, and you’d sob, gripping at him like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

when the tears slow, he’d press a kiss to your temple, gentle and lingering. “come on,” he’d say, lifting you effortlessly into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. you’d feel every solid muscle shift, every steady heartbeat against your own chest, and it’d remind you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. he’d carry you to the couch or the bed, settling you down with so much care, like you’re something precious that needs tending. “let’s get you comfortable,” he’d say, grabbing you his soft plaid blanket and wrapping it around you, tucking it in snugly.

he’d kneel next to you, thumb brushing away the lingering tears on your cheeks. “whatever’s weighing on you, you don’t have to carry it all,” he’d say, his voice low but certain. “not alone.” he’d press your hand to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. “feel that? as long as this is going, you’ve got me.”

he’d bring you water, guiding the glass to your lips if your hands are trembling too much to hold it yourself. “small sips,” he’d murmur, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek. “there you go, baby. good job.” and when you’ve had enough, he’d set it aside, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you to sit in his lap. he’d rock you gently, one hand tracing slow patterns on your back, the other holding your head against his shoulder.

“tell me what happened,” he’d say. if you managed to speak then, even just a little—admitting how lost you felt, or how nothing seemed to be enough—his jaw would tighten imperceptibly, but he’d keep that soft edge for you, the one that made you feel like everything you said was being cradled carefully.

“you’re more than the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” he’d say, squeezing your hand. “and you’re not just the sum of what you haven’t done, either.” his fingers would move, tracing the lines of your palm. “sometimes, surviving is enough. sometimes, it’s the best you can do—and that’s more than good enough.”

when the silence stretched between you, comfortable this time, he’d find little ways to anchor you. maybe he’d run a warm bath, not because he thought it’d fix everything, but because he knew the warmth might ease the tension from your muscles. he’d stay nearby, offering a washcloth or combing his fingers through your hair if you’d let him, the gestures quiet but full of love.

later, he’d help you change into fresh clothes—his old colombia hoodie, soft from years of wear—and make sure you had a bite to eat, even if it was just toast or a few crackers. “we’ll take it one step at a time from here,” he’d remind you, his voice still so calm, so grounding. “it doesn’t have to be everything at once. just one thing. and then the next.”

when you were ready to try sleeping, he’d pull you close again, his body warm and solid behind you. “there are going to be days that feel impossible,” he’d murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “days that make you think it’s never going to get better. but you don’t have to face them alone. even if all you can do is let one other person in—that is enough.”

masterlist — i recommend the “angst” or “fluff” tags if you haven’t already tried them ♡

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Hi everyone, sorry for the hiatus. Everyone who correctly guessed I had a boob reduction, congrats! Soooo, here's the thing. I'm dating this new guy and he's amazing, of course, but he told me after a couple dates that my boobs are too big, asking if I ever thought about getting a reduction. I said of course not, I loved my boobs. He insisted, though, telling me how amazing I'd look with really small boobs, with my wide hips and big butt. He told me my boobs were really unflattering and made me look heavy.

I mean, he wasn't wrong. They were gigantic and looking back I get embarrassed thinking about having breasts so big, like ughhhh I can't believe I walked around like that. No wonder guys groped me constantly! So he introduced me to his family, his mom is a plastic surgeon and she was elated to give me a breast reduction. I had almost no say in any of it. They sat me down, took off my dress, and before I knew it his mom was drawing lines on my breasts, explaining to my bf how she intended to shrink my boobs. She turned to me after they talked for a while and asked how I felt about going totally flat chested. I was stunned and said, "Uhhhh...." but before I said anything else she was like, "Perfect! I can have these big fat eyesores chopped off in a couple hours."

I gulped nervously and asked what she meant..... So it was legit like our third date. All I've done is give this guy a blow job so far and there I was, topless, getting escorted to her clinic. She said it's only a few blocks away, that I won't need to put my dress back on. So my bf and his mom paraded me down the streets of Philly for, I shit you not, twenty blocks, wearing nothing but my heels and lingerie panties. My breasts were bouncing freely, and they'd lower my arms if I tried to hide them, after a couple blocks my bf pulled out a pink pair of handcuffs and cuffed my hands behind my back..... So my tits were totally exposed, with markings all over them about how they'll soon be completely chopped apart and flattened.

People passed us and stared, my bf's mom said I was very naughty and needed to be punished by having my boobs removed. I let out a little gasp when she said it the first time. She let strangers grope and squeeze my boobs, telling them to slap them and not worry if they bruise my tits up, since they'll be gone in a couple hours anyway. My bf's mom made sure to explain that I was a naughty girl in need of punishment to every person we passed. It was so humiliating. If I slowed down my bf would spank me and tell me to 'move that fat ass of mine'.

We eventually reached her clinic, wear I was strapped to a chair and my bf jerked off as his mom proceeded to mercilessly take my poor boobs apart. She numbed them, but kept me awake so I could watch. My bf had such a great time so I'm not angry they sprung this on me so abruptly. He came on my face like five separate time as his mom worked her magic, dismantling my huge perfect titties, as fat spilled onto my lap. His mom cut off big chunks and showed them to me, taunting me, telling me they were about to be all gone, to watch as she threw big pieces of my boobs in the garbage, telling me I'd never have big tits again, teasing me all the way. She'd ask me if I'd miss this big piece or that piece, I'd nod timidly, my boobs torn open and halfway gone already. She'd have me gently kiss a few pieces goodbye before throwing them out for good. My bf would cum on my face a few times as she waved a big chunk of my boobs in front of me, covering my face in his cum as I watched helplessly as my perfect titties got destroyed.

Not going to lie.... I humped the chair I was tied to and came a few times myself. My bf's mom noticed this, and assured me soon enough my clit and 'most of my pussy' might get tossed in the trash as well, but I'd have to be a good girl and wait until the time was right. I sat there, stitched up, flat chested, my nipples reduced to nothing, looking as small as a guy's. I asked what else she wanted to do to me and she smiled, saying she had big plans, that her son and her would have to brainstorm. "But....." she said. "You do have a very pretty face, gorgeous eyes, perfect nose, and smile.... I could have a lot of fun with such a pretty face." And embarrassingly, I came yet again. My bf walked me back to their place and fucked me as his mom watched, smoking, drinking wine, telling my bf 'You better get that flat chested little slut pregnant'. And it's been two months, I'm definitely pregnant. No more surgeries yet, but it would be crueler to work on me more when I have a giant belly full of her son's kids.... I get kinda squeamish picturing what they want to do to me, but it makes me so very, very fucking horny. I can't wait."

[roseverdict]

"my adult children are lazy and have no dreams and are perfectly content to leech off of me their entire lives!" no!!! you dipshit!!!!! they're several diagnosed types of mentally ill each, unmedicated for all of them through no choices of their own, unable to go anywhere outside the house without parental permission or assistance*, and have repeatedly been outright mocked by you for expressing joy at things they like and jobs they want to have while you claim to always support them!!!!!!! you cannot treat them as failures of completely fine and fully-autonomous adults when you never even finished teaching them the things you think every teenager should learn!!!!!!!!!

*: and even then they're chafing badly enough that they are pushing for ways to work around you! to escape you!!! once they can pedal a bicycle for further than a mile without going into Goddamn cardiac arrest it's fucking over for you!!!!!

(EDIT BECAUSE I WANT TO HAVE THIS HERE BUT ALSO UM: yall ever feel like you're engaged in a cold war that's never actually been declared? bc the increased aggression in the passive-aggressive texts over the past 24 hours (DESPITE the fact that most stuff from the last batch was in fact addressed in a timely fashion) has me like 👁️👁️. mom, dad, if you're reading this, you know you can talk to me like the 24-year-old human person i am, right? not treat me like an impudent teenager who doesn't deserve to make their own choices and should be grateful to even be living with you, then get frustrated when i'm making angry vent-like posts online?)

[neverendingford]

,

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

There's a viral video circulating from the Fort Worth Zoo, of two keepers who ended up in a habitat at the same time as a silverback gorilla. Spoiler for good news: neither the humans nor the gorilla got hurt. It's a bad situation that ended extremely well, and that's why I want to talk about it.

The audio for this video is mostly someone praying loudly, so if you need to turn the audio off to watch it, you won't miss anything relevant. If you don't want to watch it, here's the summary: it starts with a keeper running around the corner into the main exhibit, pursued by a large male gorilla. She is quickly able to get into a doorway at the back of the exhibit, but does not completely close the door because the gorilla is standing across from her, watching. He eventually moves off to the right hand side of the exhibit, where we can see a keeper is trapped in the corner at the front. She was trying to move towards the exit as he moved to the right, and she stops, standing very still behind a tree, while he stays along the far right wall. They stay like that for a minute, and then the gorilla runs to the front right corner, and the keeper is able to run to the door in the back of the exhibit and get to safety.

Let's start with basic information. Even though it's just going viral now, this video is from October of 2023. It was taken not by a guest, but by the zoo security officer responding to the situation. Hmmm, seems like he maybe should have been doing something else during that situation, instead of than taking a phone video. It's going viral now because the guy (who is no longer employed at the zoo) decided to post it on TikTok for his five minutes of fame. This guy immediately started giving all sorts of media interviews, answering questions like "why no tranquilizers" inappropriately, making memes out of his own video, generally distasteful shit.

Zoo spokesperson Avery Elander gave a public statement that "thankfully, there was no physical contact between keepers and gorilla, and all staff and animals are safe." A comment from the zoo has also indicated that the incident was due to keeper error. (As opposed to, for instance, something in the fencing breaking.) According to the guy who posted the video, a lock was left unsecured and the gorilla was able to open the door to the habitat. I don't know if I buy it, and again, this just... is probably why he doesn't have a job anymore. By sharing that detail - real or not - he places a ton of public scrutiny and blame on that keeper team. (If that's what happened, I can promise you it will have been dealt with internally.) He also was nice enough to say he wouldn't name the women in the video... but verified they're still staffers at the zoo... which means they're eminently identifiable! Excuse me while I ragequit for a second.

So there's two reasons I wanted to talk about this. The first is to make sure it is well known that this guy is purposefully and intentionally exploiting the worst day of someone's life for media attention. Their lives were in danger, and he's using it for fame. His name is in the media articles - I'm not going to share it because he doesn't deserve that attention. The second reason, though, is because this video is a masterclass on how to survive if you end up sharing space with a gorilla. Every zoo person I've spoken to or seen comment on the video is so, so impressed with how the keepers handled themselves.

The gorilla in this video is 34-year-old Elmo. All apes in AZA zoos are managed in protected contact, so keepers are supposed to be separated from them by a barrier at all times. The zookeepers were in the habitat putting out a mid-day meal when he got out. Watching the video, you can see he's not actively being aggressive towards them - he's not making threat displays or trying to approach them. Mostly, Elmo seems like he doesn't know what is going on and he's kinda freaked out about it. (This is confirmed in the zoo's press statement, too). The staff stayed calm, and importantly, watched and waited to see how he'd move and act.

The zoo did say one thing, though, that's a bit misleading. In one article, their press person I quote as saying “In general, gorillas are considered the “gentle giants” of the great ape species.” Just because this may be true in comparison to other great ape species doesn't meant gorilla aren't still incredibly dangerous. This type of messaging always worries me, because I think it leads people to misunderstand the risks of being close to megafauna. Gorilla are extremely strong animals, and their social norms/behaviors are very different from that of humans. That's why it's such a big deal any time people end up in gorilla habitats, and why sometimes in those circumstances lethal measures have to be taken to protect human life.

These keepers are incredibly lucky to be unharmed. These women stayed safe specifically because they're trained professionals who knew how to act around gorilla, they knew this particular animal well, and they'd learned the escapes from the exhibit just in case this ever happened. We should applaud them for their cool heads and quick thinking.

As for the guy who posted the video? As a colleague put it, may he always step on a Lego.

[pixiesholloworld]

put 'em on the glass .ᐟ

╰┈➤ synopsis: me putting my your fav jjk men in car shmex scenarios

cw: f!reader established relationships w/ sukuna, geto, nanami,, fwb!gojo, hook up w/ toji, fear play? w/nanami agoraphilia (obviously), slight exhibitionism? fingering, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving), riding, pet names (like baby, honey, sugar), degradation (toji calls you a whore/brat/bitch/slut), high sex w/toji, spanking, missionary, backsh!ts, the whole 9 yards. [✿] is meant to be y/n

a/n: idk how much im gonna clean this up or proofread it but i hope you guys like

sukuna - [attachment 5 images] you'd never seen someone drive so fast before in your life, you watched as the little blip on your phone struggles to keep up with sukuna’s actual speed, updating only every few seconds until you see that he's around the corner. you put on the last few sprits of perfume and run outside to greet him, he quickly pushes the door open for you so you can hop in and before you can even get in good

"think its fun to tease me all day, huh? sending pictures of you bent over like that.." his voice, rough and consumed with desire. you felt all giddy after having successfully worked him up sending him picture after picture, of you in the skirt he bought you not too long ago— teasing him, you could feel your cunt begging to be relieved from this aching feeling, excitement smearing your thighs as he pulls into an empty parking garage.

you watch as his big veiny hands turn the wheel with finesse until he stops perfectly into a parking spot on the 3rd floor, the floor baren, the lights dim and flicker above the car as he reclines your seat and positions himself over you, "fuuck this," he seethes, "i'm not waitin' another minute to touch you". your hands reach over his shoulders and bring him in for a sultry kiss, you feel his breath shake as his lips press into yours again and again.

his hands wonder over your body, cupping your cheeks, and slowly moving down to unzip your jacket, knowing nothing lies under there but your hardened nipples. you feel his index and thumb squeeze and pull at them, beckoning small whimpers to leave your lips between kisses. you feel his lips curl against yours

"mmm, i like the sound of that" he moves one of his hands down to your legs, lightly grazing your thigh and following the heat to your puffed folds. the feeling sends a rush of electricity through your veins as his fingertips kiss at your folds and spread them, smearing the slick all over, "no panties?"

his thumb finds your soddened bulb and pushes against it slightly, you feel that same ticklish feeling start around your thighs and stomach, your brows furrow as your sweet moans fill his mouth. he moves his other hand from your nipple to your neck and squeezes slightly hearing how your voice cracks at the sudden pressure.

his finger moves at a quicker pace and you find it harder to keep up with his mouth but eventually you give up, letting him move his lips all over your face, your hips rhythmically jitter against his thumb. his hand grows tighter around your neck as your moans become louder

"k-kuna" you croak out, "more, kuna", your hands reach down to his and you guide two of his fingers inside. he lets you and releases his hand from around your neck, placing it beside your head, his thrusts are slow at first, watching as your body becomes more undone to his touch.

his lips slowly trail from the corner of your mouth, kissing at your jaw and slowly going down until he reaches your neck, his sharp teeth graze your neck as he leaves wet open kisses that turn into bites, biting you lovingly of course. he feels you clutching around his digits and thrusts faster feeling you lose yourself all over him

"kunaaa" you whine, fingers wildly massaging his tufts of hair, your body felt so heavy, you knew it was impossible but you felt like his fingers were so deep, feeling how they dove in and out so steadily, his palm kiss up against your clit every so often. it all gave you a feeling that was just a step up higher than euphoria

you could barley say anything other than his name when he started to sneak his lips over to your ear, kissing and licking all over it like a starved animal, shushing you while moving one of his hands over your mouth

he wanted this feeling to last as much as you did, but that single action ended it all, you two were so lucky that it was so far into the night that no one could possibly hear you.. at least no one outside the parking lot

even with all the windows rolled up and his hand over your mouth sukuna was sure your screams could be heard. "such a loud mouthed brat" he teases, removing his hand from both your mouth and weeping cunt, he instead forces his cream coated digits into your mouth so you can clean it off

"sorry" you muffle out, as your tongue languidly rolls between his thick fingers. your half lidded eyes stare into his deep crimsons as if you were trying to telepathically tell him what you wanted, feeling his length grow on your thigh

he looks at you with a fiendish grin and starts unbuckling his belt

gojo - rear service

you had no idea where your taste in men came from

as the oldest sibling it was only natural for you to be drawn to only children or younger siblings

and for some reason you chose to be fwb with the most annoying one you could find, though you suppose he was annoying in a charming way

when saturo invited you out you thought you’d be getting your pussy ate, not sitting in the middle of the beach parking lot watching all of the digimon movies in order. counting grains of sand could be more interesting than this shit

but at least he made it comfortable for you, you were in his custom made baby blue tesla, the 2 front seats were put all the way down and you were huddled up next to him under a blanket as the screen played in front of the both of you

you tried to stay focused, so so so hard, but the longer the movie went on the more you felt like leaving, it didn't make it any better that every few minutes he'd drop a fun fact about one of the characters, like you really gave a fuck

something needed to give and fast, you slyly move your hand over to his stomach and casually start toying with his pajama pant drawstring, thinking you were doing it so sneakily too, playing it off as an attempt to caress his smooth skin

but then all so abruptly you feel his hand run over yours and glide it into his pants and boy was he hard. feeling him take control so suddenly when you thought he was distracted caught you by surprise

"god, i was saving the fun part for later" he moves your hand down further so your grasping it now, "is the movie really that boring?"

you flash a smile at him, holding his length and slowly stroking it, "yeah, reallly fucking boring" you pull it out from his boxers and move your lips to meet with his. while kissing was cool and all you felt yourself growing more impatient by the minute

you find yourself moving lower on the seat, letting him hover right over you. you could feel the beads of pre drip onto your clothes, his breathing becoming more shallow as his wet, pink, lips force your mouth open to let his tongue in

he's rutting into your hand at this point, whenever he gets like this he starts whining and rambling, "sorry f'borin' you to death, let me make it up to you, yeah? come on, pretty" he starts pawing at your shorts, smiling against your swollen, spit colored lips,"let me eat it for you, or better yet let me fuck you, yeahh, could fuck you real good night now"

maybe this was why you happened to get with men that were an only child, always so eager to please, or maybe it was just him, either way you weren't complaining. gojo loved when you took control, so when you told him if he wanted the privilege of fucking you again he needed to prove he deserved it first, he did exactly that

it was such a pretty sight to see, his white locs of hair draping over your sprawled out legs feeling how hungrily he lapped up your juices. his tongue running swirls around your hardened bulb, sending shocks throughout your body, you could feel him nibbling and sucking on your clit all in an effort to hear your sweet sweet moans

“mmm, just like that ‘toru” you could tell he was losing himself in your taste, your scent, your moans, the feeling of your thighs threating to squeeze his head open if he kept going at this pace, he didn't care though he'd just pry them open again like he always does

he looks up at you so innocently too, knowing something vile is going on inside of that head of his. he didn't have to say it but you knew that would be your last time trying to stop him from getting what he wanted, feeling how his sinewy arms held your legs down while gripping the fat of your thigh, groaning into your cunt like he was the one being eaten out

the nerves in your stomach built up, and up, and up, not only from how his tongue quickly lapped at your folds but there was an added thrill doing this outside on public property… fact that you two could get caught at any moment added to the pleasure

your hand reached for his head trying to pull him in deeper, saturo loved getting his hair pulled and usually welcomed your gentle tugs but this time he took your hand away from his head and held onto it, looking you deep in the eyes as the hardened tip of his tongue bullied your clit

your body felt so limp and your legs shook like crazy at every movement he made begging to close up just to suppress your climax. you squeezed his hand, trying to keep yourself grounded as he groaned into your clit, licking and sucking at it until you were drowning in pleasure, your breaths becoming more exasperated

“ah, i-i’m gonna, ‘toru i- ahh!”, you moaned, arching your back as he held your legs open, hungrily sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves. he lived for your taste, loving how your voice cracks when you’ve had too much for his sinful tongue for one night, most of all though he loved holding you in place while you squirmed into his arms, bucking your hips straight into his mouth so you could ride out your nut

saturo lifts his head up, admiring the sticky mess between your thighs as he works his way up, his dick poking right at your mound

“now for the fun part”

geto - no license

suguru loved, loved, loved, loved making you hit high notes, you promised to ride him one of these days but you were failing miserably, you weren’t making all the pretty noises you usually do

so naturally he took matters into his own hands—literally—by fucking up into you, guiding your hips up and down to match his movements. you could feel your legs juddering from having your legs in one position for so long, nearly ready to give out as you buried your face into his neck, clawing into the leather behind him

he was unrelenting, he probably wasn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s made you cum more times than you can count, to make matters worse though you were fucking in his car in front of a church, not only was it humiliating to know the car was definitely moving in the dark of night but in front of a church made thing so much worse

you’ve always wanted to have car sex and leave it to suguru to make it a night worth remembering with the stakes so high. he told you you had no need to worry since a church is the last place the cops will think of checking on you two, and with every thrust you slowly started to worry less and less

or was that your brain turning into mush? you didn’t even notice suguru was talking to you until you felt a mean smack on your ass, “you hear me talkin’ to you?” you yelp in response struggling to find words as he slams you down harder on his girth

“m-mmhm”

“my poor dumb baby, you’re all fucked out already?” he grabs a fist full of your hair and forces you to look into those fanciable purple irises of his, he hums contently admiring what a mess you’ve made of yourself. your make up that you worked so hard on smeared all over your face and the drool splayed all across your cheek, you were oh so cute like this

another mean smack snaps you out of your daze, dragging a more high pitched yelp out of you than before, “answer” he demands, can’t he tell? the answer was so obvious, your delayed speech and mindless babbling, the way your body would lurch forward in an attempt to impede the next thrust, the tears threatening to fall from those cute little puppy eyes suguru adored so much

“y-you’re being— fuh, s’mean— ngh”

“oh? am i? s’your fault you’re in this mess y’know. making me get my own nut off”

“don’t mean to” you say behind half gritted teeth, your eyes shut in an attempt to deny the inevitable but his hand smacks your ass twice in response

“open those pretty eyes f’me, wanna see that look you give me when you cum”

suguru knew you loved his voice, it was so deep yet soothing, everything about him was so tantalizing, the longer you looked into his eyes the hotter you started to feel. you were practically naked in his car having only your socks and shirt on, he had teased you for hours before your promise to ride him fell through and those hours were starting to catch up to you

“think you can ride all by yourself now?” his hand smacking your ass again just to hear you scream

“y-yes!”

“go on, don’t disappoint me”

you adjust yourself and hold on to the headrest bouncing in the same rhythm he had you going at, his curve hitting that same spot over and over it was driving you fucking crazy. you felt hot all over and the stinging from his constant smacks weren’t going away anytime soon, the inside of your knees started feeling sweaty and slowly but surely you started to wind down

he wouldn’t let that go unpunished though

smacking your ass again and placing his hands on your hips to fix your speed, “you were doin’ so good, what happened huh?”, he gifts you another smack before letting go of your hips, “don’t let it happen again, ok?”, you heard a hint of irritation in his voice, he meant big business

so now with sudden newfound inspiration you go at the exact pace he wants you to go, clutching around his girth every few thrusts, feeling his dick pummel through you so quickly made you so wet and his breathy moans made everything so much wetter until, pop

his dick slipped out, “uh oh,” he lifts you up by your waist and eases it back in, grabbing your hips and slamming you right back down into his balls again, “pussy’s so wet baby, you feel so fuckin good”, then all at once his hands roam up to your waist and he slumps back making you fall against him, thrusting right into you while hitting that g-spot

“who’s pussy is this?”

“ah! ah! yours! ngh”

he smacks your ass really fucking hard this time, forcing you to correct yourself

“ahh fuck! yours suguru, it’s yours!”

then another, smack,

your screaming moans could probably be heard from outside the car but you didn’t care and neither did he all he cared about was hearing those broken pornographic moans scream his name

“that’s more like it, keep going baby, yeahh just like that. here, take that shirt off too”,

he slides your shirt off with ease then cups your breast and places it in his mouth, letting it fall out every now and again to fuck you and then placing it back. near growls leave his mouth as you feel his balls crash into you over and over, making the most lewd papping sounds you’ve ever heard. all this added stimulation started to make you feel lightheaded

his hands were glued to the sides of your hips forcing you to take every inch he could offer and then some, he could feel how your walls would clutch around his dick so tightly, it made him chuckle a little, thinking you might actually break it off. he slows down his pace a little, his hands roaming up to your face, keeping steady eye contact with you, "you take it so well, sweetheart, wanna keep going like this?"

you nod your head rapidly, not knowing what suguru had planned for you next

"use those words of yours" he teases

"y-yes" you exhale, feeling his hands roam back down to your hips lifting them up once more

"come on then, put your arms over me"

nanami - murder road

when you told your husband you wanted to try something different you did not have this in mind

when he first brought up going to a murder road you were curious and excited, thinking it was something similar to halloween horror nights, but when you got into his car and started to see the city lights slowly disappear you grew a little concerned not really knowing what the road ahead had in store for you

"honey, where are we going?"

"you'll see"

the road ahead twisted and the pit in your stomach grew into an abyss, you looked up what a murder road was on your phone since he wasn't coughing up any answers but all that came up was this stupid book and then your service went out!

you knew kento had no alterative plans for you like murder per say... but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable driving into a literal black hole either. as if things couldn’t get weirder you stop at a cliff, its dark as shit out here, you’re cold and you want to go home

you feel sudden warmth on you leg and look down to see your husband's hand he’s looking at you with those same loving eyes he always gives you looking as though he's impressed with himself

“kento— dear, where the fuck are we?”

“this is the murder road i was telling you about”

“yeah but… what are we doing here.. this place is giving me the creeps”

his hand creeps up your thigh, fingers brushing against where your clit would be, “you said you wanted to try something different didn’t you?”

it all started coming together now, the secrecy, the long car ride, all building up to this moment, you’d be lying if his seriousness and dedication to his role didn’t turn you on a little bit, you felt a little more at ease

still freaked out that your husband decided to fuck you in the middle of nowhere but relieved that you won’t end up on the news tomorrow. you both climb in the backseat staring at each other hungrily until you make the first move, taking his tie off of him slowly and sensually, before moving to his button down

“[✿], what were you so afraid of?” a bit of concern tainting his tone

“hm? i just wanted to know where we were going”

“does not knowing things scare you?”

“i guess so”

he then unexpectedly took his tie from you and held it in his hands, "you wanted to try something new, right?"

your hands move away from his button down, his chest was exposed down the middle, his eyes were focused directly on you, unwavering

"y-yeah?"

"you mind if a blind fold you?"

blind folding? what the fuck

was it not enough that you two were surrounded by darkness?

"you've got nothing to be afraid of, no one can see us out here"

it’s not being caught that scared you it’s not knocking whatever coming next that did, then, a familiar feeling started to pull at your stomach again, it was like when you were on your way up here, or when you'd be left in the dark as a child— you were scared, but for some reason this time it felt good. you let him tie the tie around your head, it completely covered your vision and you could only feel kento's warmth in front of you at this point

"tell me if its too tight"

"so'kay"

"you ready?"

"yes"

your body felt so tense but it was all so exciting at the same time, you could hear kento taking off his clothes, the clinking of his belt, the ruffling of his shirt and pants. the anticipation was dreadful, until you felt his hand on your thigh, "can i take these off for you?" he pulls at the loop attached to your jeans

"mmhm"

he unbuttons your jeans first, and then slides them over your hips, you lift yourself up a little to make it easier for him and then he moves over to your long sleeve, only leaving on your bra and panties. your tummy was doing backflips by this point, not knowing what you looked like or what he looked like, just knowing that he was in front of you and that the inevitable was coming soon

"you look so lovely" he professes, guiding you to lie down on your back, you couldn't even fathom that this was happening right now, you felt so many different sensations now that your sight was gone, you felt how strong he was, muscles daring to burst from his smooth, taut skin. his body heat was so strong and it felt almost as if the heat was carrying his scent

you felt something coming closer to your face until you felt his warm lips press against yours, you just now noticed how plump they were, your hands roamed around his body moving up to his back and pulling him in closer, wanting more of his warmth

you could feel his teeth gently clash against yours beckoning you to open your mouth wider to let his tongue in, the texture is rough but wet, you felt one of his hands tuck under your back, bringing you closer to him as his dick nestles between your legs, slowly rutting against your laced panties

his lips would diverge from loving kisses to bites so suddenly, biting your lower lip and slightly sucking on it before sticking his tongue back in your mouth, the unpredictability and lewdness of it all made you throb, the wet sounds your mouths made, hearing how his breath would hitch and his hips would jitter after every whimper that fell from your lips

it must've been so hard from him to hold back because the second you ask for him to put it in you can feel him racing to take your panties off, you can feel the heat radiating from his tip and coming closer, feeling as though its about to burst

he teases the entrance a little covering your clit with the mixture of pre and slick before sinking himself in, shaky moans pour out as your hands try to reach up for him and he comes to you immediately letting you feel his warmth as he kisses your lips

"that's alright honey, ive got you"

toji - put 'em on the glass, girl!

you both knew you were dead wrong, you more than him though, what would the other club members think if they saw you like this? you were part of a very very well known car club, you weren't only apart of it but YOURE THE HEAD of the club

you had it all, the money, the cars, the attention, so what were you doing here? face pressed against the glass of the rival club leader's car with his dick balls deep in your guts?

the only reason you got into this situation was because you decided to match, not only was toji in a car club but he also sold weed and you like to test your products before you buy..

"fuck- toji! ughmygod!"

"somethin' wrong doll?"

"more, more please, more"

"more? awh, must really like me, huh?"

"shutupand fuckme" you say behind gritted teeth, you grab his hand and start throwing it back faster, what can you say? you were gonna get your nut off one way or another

you felt the car bouncing beneath you two, it shook so viciously especially when he started going deeper, it felt like he was pushing your cervix farther back. he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it more into the glass just to watch your breath fog up the mirror, like it wasn't hot enough in here already

you could see his smug grin from the corner of your eye as he pummeled into you, you used to despise that shit eating grin. he'd always show up to takeovers in the flashiest cars that were wayyy out of his tax bracket, there's no way he could afford them, he was definitely a theft waiting to be caught.. but all of that started to fade from your mind when he took his hand off your head and put it between your thighs

you had to let go of him and hang onto the car door to keep your balance by this point, your legs started to buckle and tremble, you could hear him let out a dark chuckle, his fingers spreading your slick covered folds to find thatt spot, the added stimulation was driving you crazy

you can see his face coming closer, stopping just short of your ear, "that feel good? like when i play with your clit like this?"

"uh-huh- yes! don't stop!"

"you gonna cum soon?" he cooed, you weren't even listening to his voice with your ears anymore but your drooling cunt, "i can see your cream on my dick, you nasty whore"

“shutuptoji”

“such a mouthy little bitch, dont’chu know who the fuck y’er talkin’ to?"

all you could do was moan in response as his hips thrusted deeper and harder just to feel you grip onto him tighter, you both knew you were gonna cum soon and it was gonna be messy

“nothin’ to say back huh? who knew that all i needed to fix that mouth of yours was stick my dick in ya”

“just- ngh, fuck— ah, me”

“awh 'm sorry princess, not goin’ fast enough for you?”

then almost instantly his hips started pumping faster, he pulled your head off of the glass and placed it up to look at him, he had moved his hand from between your thighs by now, slowly moved his hands down your waist to your ass, a hand on each cheek, gripping the fat and pushing it together, spanking it, groaning at each thrust loving how he could hear the sound of your ass falling back against him, fucking you so good you started to lose your arch

“t-toji, slow down! ah, ah!”

“hm?" smack! "why the fuck would i?" smack! "s’only one way to shut nasty fuckin’ brats like you up— nghfuck, you’re so wet—", smack! "you run that fuckin' mouth all day n' all i wanna hear is —mmm shiitt baby, fix that fuckin’ back, yeahh"

toji went on and on about how nasty you were fucking him out in public like this, how loud you were being, how much your body loved being on him, all while fucking you the way you deserved to be

"such a needy little bitch, huh? you need my dick? mmhm, fuck— sound like you need it," smack! "mmm, you want it dont you?" smack! "need it huh, dollface?"

a familiar feeling pulled at your womb, filling your insides from how good you felt, your hands scrapped against the fogged glass in an attempt to get away from him, but he holds you down against the glass again forcing you to take it

"fuck are you goin’? we’re not done yet"

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[roebeanstalk]

6/2 Update: Security deposit has been paid!! Thank you so much to everyone for the help 💚 I still have to pull together all of June rent for my current place which is $675. Thank you everyone for all of the help so far 💚

I’m asking for help with June rent, which is $675 and needs to be paid ASAP.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot

venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89

ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Any help at all is super appreciated. Every dollar adds up, and shares are so helpful too. I know that I’ve received so much help from people in the past and I can’t thank you all enough. I hope that this is the last of these that I have to do.

Needs:

June rent: $23/$675

Security Deposit: $495/495 Paid 💚

Bonus:

July rent (First month at new place): $495

Movers + Uhaul: $300-350

More info on my situation under the cut!

Thank you so, so so much.

I have a history of mental health issues, and as a result I have a very difficult time getting and maintaining employment. My mental health also impacts my ability to keep up with and complete freelance/commission work in a timely manner. While I have made some incredible steps forward lately thanks to the right combo of therapy, medication, and a support system, I am still not at a point where I am self-sufficient yet. I am getting there – and I am committed to keep trying no matter what.

Original post blurb, taken out of main post since deposit has been paid:

My landlord has decided not to move forward with me as a tenant due to my history with payment/mental health. While this is frustrating as heck, it’s allowed me to find a better, more affordable housing situation. I have signed a lease at a new place and move in July 1st!Once the deposit is paid, my space on the lease is officially secured and I am good to go. This is the main thing that I am looking for help with.

Why I need help:

This new housing situation is incredible for me – it’s a room in a quiet house with two other queer folk, and the rent is very affordable compared to my current situation. The new place is $485/month, the current place is $675/month. Even with utilities, my total overhead for shelter will cost less than rent at my current place. If I can secure my spot in this house and move forward, I see such a clear path forward for me in terms of self-improvement and self-sufficiency.

For the first time in 15 years, I feel like I can tackle the things ahead of me. If you’re able to help out I would really, really appreciate it.

What I’m doing:

I am job hunting for something that works well for my situation. With the cost of rent, I think that a part time job will be able to cover it. The process of getting a job is difficult for me, but I am committed to continuing to work at it.

On the art front, I have occasional comic coloring jobs that help me out. I also have commissions – I have finally been moving forward at a good rate and have been really happy with my work. In time, this will be able to be a more standard income route. I also have a Patreon that brings in about $65/month.

Cashapp https://cash.app/clawshot / venmo https://venmo.com/rmck89 / ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/roebeanstalk

Thank you so much for reading over all of this. Thank you to everyone who has helped with donations or kind words or reblogs. Thank you so much to every commissioner and customer who has been patient as hell with me on artwork, communication, and stickers. Thank you thank you thank you. Thanks to every single one of you I have been able to keep pushing myself forward, and I'm so happy to keep doing it and make good on everything. And eventually, give back to my community. I love you all so much, even though i don't know any of you that well. Thank youuuu. <3

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[buckets-and-trees]

Camaraderie

Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Meeting up with the impossibly hot guy from the thirsty to fuck dating app didn't turn out to be a one-time thing... Hooking up with Bucky Barnes wasn't healthy, and you couldn't quit the habit, but he's so good at what he does, you can't resist the itch for him when it needs to be scratched.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship, explicit and rough smut, oral (male and female receiving)/deep throating, 69, vaginal fingering, some overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, humiliation, degradation (use of "slut"/"whore"), use of "baby" as a term of endearment, praise, general dirty talk, cum play/marking, taking photos, aftercare

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem, but can absolutely be read as a standalone and/or out of order.

Logistical Notes: My September/final offering for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo 23-24 using the ANTI-HERO and AFTERCARE prompts. I'm also submitting this for @steviebbboi's 200 Follower Celebration (kink prompts: oral sex, overstimulation, mild degradation, dialoge prompts bolded) and @mercurial-chuckles's SMUT-BER fest (prompt: marathon session).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You know you should never text Bucky Barnes.

Daytime you knows he’s horrible for you.

A relationship would go nowhere with him.

You know it. He knows it.

You’ve both been very clear this is only sex.

Dirty, late night hook ups.

The next morning, you’re always resolved that last night was the last time.

But you don’t delete his number.

He gives you space. So much space. There’s no pressure, and that’s one of the reasons you don’t close the door completely.

Sometimes he initiates a conversation, sometimes it’s you. It goes about four to six weeks like clockwork.

And always after midnight.

Tonight it’s you who sent up the bat signal.

YOU: Hey! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?

HIM: Not bad… How’s life for you?

YOU: Also not bad. I moved - pretty close to where you work, actually…

YOU: You working tonight?

HIM: Got a new job actually. Still night shift, but building security downtown.

YOU: Oh, that’s good though, right?

HIM: Better gig, better pay. Still bad hours, but our fun doesn’t have to end…

YOU: Oh?

HIM: Let me come over when I get off and I’ll get you off.

There’s literally nothing romantic about it.

But you’re aching for a good fuck.

And that’s why you agreed to let this man you’ve been hooking up with in the dead of night in a parking lot for the last eight months to show up for a bootycall between two and three am.

Because it was going to be so late, you told him where the spare key was, told him to let himself in, to come to your bed, and to wake you up when he got there.

The forbidden thrill of that arrangement gave you a bit of a second wind, but when you’d tucked yourself back in bed and done a bit of doom-scrolling, your eyes had eventually drooped and you’d dropped into sleep.

You stir a little bit as you are nudged onto your back, but it’s when Bucky starts in on aggressively groping your breasts, having immediately pushed up the silk camisole you put on, that you groan and come to.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness. Bucky's silhouette looms over you, his calloused hands cold against your skin as he roughly kneads your tender flesh. A shiver runs through you, desire pooling low in your belly.

"Missed these tits," he growls, voice husky with desire.

You arch into his touch, your body responding even as your mind struggles to catch up. Bucky wastes no time, his hot mouth latching onto a nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively flying to Bucky's hair. He bites down, just hard enough to make you whimper, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck, Bucky," you moan, already breathless.

He releases your breast with a wet pop, moving to give the other the same treatment. He sucks hard, teeth grazing your sensitive peak, and you whimper. His other hand slides down your body, groping at your pussy over your silk shorts.

“You put these on special for me, yeah?” he probes, and you nod. “Such a whore, though,” he continues. So desperate to let me use you that you told a fucking stranger how to get into your house so he could ruin you.”

His words make you clench around nothing, desperate for him to ruin you just like you know he can. Bucky chuckles darkly when you mewl as he grinds the heel of his palm over your clothed clit.

"Such a needy little slut," he murmurs approvingly. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all night."

"Took you long enough to get here," you whine.

He doesn't respond, just crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. His stubble scratches your chin, sending tingles down your spine. You clutch onto his bulky arms. His mouth is minty - either gum or mouthwash or mints popped at the last minute - but the rest of him just smells like sweat and faint musk. You doubt he even owns cologne. His body and the way he uses yours are why you don’t fight the itch when it flares up for nights like this.

Bucky breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck. He bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, surely leaving a mark. You gasp, arching into him.

"Gonna use you so good," he growls against your skin. "Gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

"God, yes," you moan, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your silk shorts, yanking them down roughly along with your panties. The cool air hits your heated core and you shiver. Bucky's hand slides up your inner thigh, his calloused fingers teasing your sensitive skin.

"Already so wet for me," he growls approvingly as he cups your sex. "Such a dirty girl."

You whimper as he slides two thick fingers inside you without warning, pumping them slowly. His thumb circles your clit, building the pressure steadily. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing more friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching at his muscular shoulders.

"Please what?" Bucky asks, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that makes you lose all shreds of dignity around him.

"Please give me your fat cock, Bucky!” you beg.

He chuckles again. “I bet you’re such a good girl in the day where everyone else can see you, but you crave this - you crave the depraved things I do to you in the dark. That’s why you’re so fast to beg for me already.”

You moan, and your body trembles with anticipation as Bucky's other hand roams over your chest, then grips your neck, rough and possessive.

He squeezes slightly, and you whimper. “Please,” you croak out.

He withdraws for a moment, but you bite back any sounds of protest as you hear the rustling of fabric, clang of a belt, and the pull of a zipper as he quickly sheds his clothes.

He sits back on his heels, looking down at you as you squirm, holding his thick, hard cock. You lick your lips at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation. Bucky strokes himself a few times with the hand that had been in your cunt moments before, spreading your wetness along his length.

"Don’t worry, baby," Bucky coos. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you need."

With his other hand, he grips your arm and pulls you down so you lay sideways across the mattress. You’ve only ever hooked up in his truck, so the freedom of space adds an element of mystery to what hell do with you, and you love it. He kneels with thighs on either side of your head, looming over you, and then he slaps your face with his cock.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and he hits you with it a couple more times. Bucky grins down at you wickedly, clearly enjoying your shock.

"Open up, slut," he grunts.

You obey eagerly, parting your lips as he guides his cock into your mouth. He doesn't ease into it, instead shoving himself deep until you gag around his length. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Bucky holds your head in place with his thick thighs, his hips pistoning as he fucks your face mercilessly. The wet, obscene sounds of your gagging fill the room, mingling with Bucky's grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, take it all," he groans, pushing even deeper.

You relax your throat as best you can, letting him use your mouth with abandon. He leans forward, pushes your thighs apart, and buries his face in your cunt.

You moan around Bucky's cock as his tongue laps at your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He sucks hard on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. The dual sensations of his thick length stretching your throat and his skilled mouth on your pussy are overwhelming.

Bucky's stubble scrapes against your inner thighs as he devours you, his left hand gripping your hip to hold you in place. His flesh hand snakes up to squeeze and pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. You whimper and writhe beneath him, struggling to focus on pleasuring his cock as he rapidly brings you to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" Bucky growls against your cunt, the vibrations making you shudder. "Want you to cum all over my face while I fuck that pretty little mouth."

You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss in pleasure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he batters the back of your throat, but you don't pull away. You live for these moments when Bucky uses you roughly, treating you like you’re worthless, only a set of holes to be used, because you’re so tired of being good, of working hard, of over achieving, of living up to everyone’s expectations. The only thing he wants from you is your body, and it feels better than any guilty pleasure you’ve ever indulged in before.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly and forcefully. Your body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, muffled cries vibrating around Bucky's cock. He doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your oversensitive clit as you writhe beneath him.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls back, releasing your hips. He slides his cock from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. Before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up.

"That's one," he growls. "Let's see how many more I can wring out of you before I'm done."

Without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sets a punishing pace. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room in the dead of night.

"This what you've been craving, sweetheart?" he taunts, pulling his cock out and rubbing the head of his it through your folds. "My cock splitting you open?"

"Yes, yes, Bucky!” you sound like a cliché porn star, but you know he loves it, and you don’t care about letting loose and going mindless and dumb around him. He doesn’t expect anything more from you.

Without warning, he slams back into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You cry out, the stretch bordering on painful. Bucky doesn't give you time to adjust, he never does. He pursues a punishing pace, and now the headboard bangs against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Bucky grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "You always feel so good around me, baby. Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His vulgar words send a thrill through you. You moan shamelessly, pushing back to meet his brutal thrusts. Bucky's metal hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, while his flesh hand snakes around to rub harsh circles on your clit. The dual stimulation quickly builds the pressure in your core.

"That's it, take it slut," Bucky growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "You love being used like this, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, beyond shame at this point. "God, yes, Bucky!"

He chuckles darkly, then suddenly pulls out. Before you can protest, he flips you onto your back and hooks your legs over his shoulders. He slides back in with a groan, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper.

"Wanna see your face when you cum on my cock," he pants, leaning down to lick a stripe lewdly up your face.

"Oh fuck, Bucky!" you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. The new angle has him hitting your g-spot with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bucky's eyes are dark with lust as he watches you come undone beneath him. One hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he jackhammers into you.

"That's it, baby," he growls. "C'mon, don't you wanna be good for me?"

You nod frantically, unable to form words as the pressure builds inside you. Bucky's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that have you seeing stars.

"Cum for me," he commands. "Now."

As if your body is conditioned to obey him, your walls clench around him rhythmically, but Bucky doesn't slow his pace. He fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you're a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

"That's two," Bucky growls, his hips still snapping against yours. "Think you can give me one more?"

You whimper as he squeezes your throat, starting to restrict your oxygen.

Your head swims as Bucky's hand tightens around your throat, his hips never slowing their relentless pace. The mix of pleasure and oxygen deprivation has you floating, barely aware of anything beyond the stretch of his cock inside you and the pressure of his fingers on your windpipe.

"Answer me," he growls, loosening his grip just enough for you to gasp out a response.

"Y-yes," you croak, your voice hoarse. "Please, Bucky..."

He grins wickedly, releasing your throat entirely. You gulp in air as he hooks his arms under your knees, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Let's see how much more you can take."

Bucky's pace becomes even more brutal, if possible. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, and you hope your neighbors are heavy sleepers. Every nerve of your body is on overdrive, overwrought.

You're trembling, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but Bucky shows no signs of slowing down. His cock pistons in and out of you relentlessly, the obscene wet sounds of your coupling filling the room as he keeps you folded in half. You're vaguely aware that you're babbling, a stream of "please" and "fuck" and "Bucky" falling from your lips.

His hot breath fans across your face as he looms over you, steel-blue eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he growls, voice rough with exertion. "So fucking desperate for my cock. You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

You nod frantically, beyond words at this point. Bucky's hand comes down to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you cry out at the added stimulation. Your oversensitive body trembles, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Cum for me again, baby," Bucky commands. "Show me how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

He pinches your clit harshly, and you scream into another orgasm. And still he fucks you as you shake and tremble beneath him. He’s too big and too strong for you to do anything but take it.

He clamps a hand down on your throat again, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as this filthy god moves like a machine above you. The lack of oxygen intensifies every sensation - his cock pounding into you relentlessly, his thumb still circling your oversensitive clit, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls out. Your legs fall clumsily to the bed, and Bucky moves so he’s sitting on your chest, straddling just below your breasts, and pinning your arms down to your sides as well. He viciously strokes his cock, grunting for a few more moments, before he groans and shoots his load over your face and chest, ribbons of hot, sticky cum hitting your skin.

You gasp and pant, struggling to catch your breath as Bucky's cum cools on your skin. Your body feels like jelly, utterly spent from the intensity of your multiple orgasms. Bucky sits back on his heels, still straddling your chest, admiring his handiwork.

"Fuck, you look good like this," he growls, voice husky with satisfaction. "All marked up and used."

You whimper, too exhausted to form words. Bucky chuckles darkly, running a finger through the mess on your face and pushing it between your lips. You suck obediently, tasting the salty bitterness of his release.

"Such a good little cumslut," he praises, his other hand trailing down to tweak one of your nipples, making you yip beneath him.

Bucky's weight lifts off you as he shifts to the side, his breathing also heavy.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined panting filling the dark room. Then Bucky chuckles low in his throat. "That was better than the truck."

You manage a weak laugh in response, still too overwhelmed to form words. Bucky reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the full mess he's made of you – the cum on your face and chest, the bruises already forming on your hips and thighs, the way your pussy is still clenching around nothing. He rolls off the bed and roots round in his discarded clothes, then stands once he’s found his phone.

"Hold still," Bucky commands, raising his phone. You hear the click of the camera as he captures your debauched state. "Something for me until next time."

You should protest, should demand he delete the photos. But a part of you thrills at the idea of Bucky having these reminders of you, of looking at them and getting hard thinking about using you again.

He disappears into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. To your surprise, he gently cleans you up, wiping away the evidence of your encounter from your skin. It's an unexpectedly tender gesture from someone who was just fucking you senseless.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice hoarse.

Bucky just nods, tossing the washcloth aside when he's done. He starts gathering his clothes, pulling them on efficiently. You watch him silently, knowing there was no version of this where he stayed, and honestly you didn’t want him to. You wanted to sprawl freely in your bed and drift away into the few hours of blissful sleep you could steal before having to get up for work and didn’t want to deal with a morning after.

After hunching over and lacing up his boots, he stands, reaches for your hand and pulls you up and to the edge of the bed. “C’mon, get up,” he urges.

Too tired and bewildered to protest, you amble out of bed and follow as he tugs you along, leading you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, grabs a towel and tosses it over the rod for you. He checks the water temperature, adjusts it slightly, then turns back to you.

He laughs, and you realize your face is broadcasting your confusion. “You’ll sleep better if you shower off the sex and sweat, baby.”

He steals a filthy kiss, licking slowly into your mouth, then ushers you into the shower. “See you next time.”

Next time. The words send a shiver through you, even as your body aches from the intensity of what he’s just done to you.

“I’ll lock the door behind me when I let myself out,” he says.

“Okay,” is all your exhausted mind and body can put together. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he echoes and smirks.

The hot water washes away the smell and grime of the debauchery, soothe your aching limbs, but they don’t wash away the memories of what he did, and you don’t want it to. They go into a collection of how he extracts pleasure from you, and those memories will tide you over for a while on some of the darker nights when you’re feeling particularly horny.

But he’s right.

You won't feel this way in the morning.

But there’ll be another next time, your middle of the night self will win out eventually, you’ll just put it off for a while. Besides, it’s due to be his turn to be he one to break first and put out the feelers for a bootycall.

You won’t say no.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[loulovingho]

Prompt: tommy breakdown after buck goes through something traumatic, not right after. When buck is all good, tommy starts to shut down, and after a while buck notices and comforts him. Okay thats a long one sorry lol

This is probably not exactly what you wanted, but hopefully it's close enough! This fic features lots of snuggles.

Tommy stayed calm when he heard a firefighter had been seriously injured and air support was needed. He didn't panic when Chimney was the one to start relaying information to him and the flight medics. Even when he heard the words “Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118” and “impaled” he focused on getting the bird from point A to point B.

When he landed the chopper, Tommy stared straight ahead and let the medics do whatever needed to be done to get Evan ready for transport.

He thought he heard Chimney ask if he should really be the one flying right now. He wanted to say, “Who else is gonna do it? I'm the only pilot here.”

Instead, he simply replied with a yes, then took off with the knowledge that his Evan was being worked on behind him.

He didn't ask how the patient was doing. He didn't listen to whatever the medics said. He did his job and got them to the hospital.

He didn't see Evan's injury until the surgeon met them at the helipad. A large metal rod sticking out of his abdomen. His turnouts had been pulled off of him, undershirt cut open. Blood, both dry and fresh, covering his body.

He had a pulse. Tommy did hear that.

But he looked lifeless.

He looked-

Tommy stopped himself from going there. He heard his coworkers say something about sending another pilot to pick up the chopper. That Tommy should go to the waiting room. He was the emergency contact anyway.

Tommy went. Sat and waited and waited, staring at the white and mint green wall in front of him. At some point, the rest of the 118 filtered in. Then Maddie, Karen, and Athena.

Eddie was on one side of him, Maddie on the other.

He looked down once to find coffee in his hand, but wasn't sure how it got there or who gave it to him.

Eventually, Evan came out of surgery. A success, the doctor said. It'd be a long recovery, but he'd make it.

The first time Evan opened his eyes, Tommy was beside him holding his hand. When Evan's face lit up into a smile, Tommy felt like his whole world just got put back together.

He stayed by Evan's side throughout recovery. Had to be forced into going home for a few hours every couple days for some real food and rest.

Tommy wasn't one for using his sick time, or his vacation time, so he used up what he could once Evan was home so he could continue to care for him until he was fully healed.

It took time, but eventually Evan got to the point where he could return to work on light duty. He couldn't go out on calls, but he could help around the station. After a couple months of barely leaving the house, he was more than ready to deal with paperwork, and cleaning, and cooking.

Three weeks after that, he was fully cleared. In one week, he'd be going out on calls again. Everything would be back to normal. When Evan called him with the news after his doctor's appointment, Tommy had congratulated him. Had picked up a cake after work and they'd celebrated together.

And then Tommy stayed awake all night long.

Evan curled up beside him, softly snoring with his breath hot on Tommy's side. Tommy's hand rubbed up and down his back all night. Right over his newest scar. He had a matching one on his abdomen. Right where the rod stabbed through his body and almost took his life.

No, Tommy didn't sleep that night.

He felt nauseous the next day. Evan noticed, of course, because Tommy was obsessed with his risotto and could barely get half of it down.

“You okay?” Buck asked as they cleared the table.

“Yeah, I think I might be getting a cold or something,” Tommy reasoned. “Sorry.”

Buck smiled at him even as he raised a hand to Tommy's forehead. “You don't have to be sorry for not feeling well. I don't feel a fever.” He moved his hands to Tommy's cheeks, then his neck, then ran his hands down his arms. Tommy knew the drill. The mere mention of not feeling one hundred percent would send Evan into a spiral, even if he did try to keep his face as nonchalant as possible.

“You feeling any congestion? Sore throat? Chills? Fatigue?”

Tommy took a step forward, rested his hands on Buck's cheeks and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I'm okay, Baby. Probably just tired.”

When they went to bed a few hours later, Tommy slept. For a couple hours, at least. He wished he hadn't though, because the nightmare he had felt more graphic than seeing Evan get taken away by the surgeon.

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Thankfully, Evan was out like a light. Tommy got up and headed into the bathroom, turning on the sink to splash some cold water on his face.

He grabbed a washcloth and wet it, wiping the sweat off of him. Then, he pulled off his sweatpants and put on a new pair before getting back into bed.

Once he was back under the covers, he reached over and scooted his hand underneath Evan's body, nudging him until he turned and laid nearly half of his body directly on top of Tommy.

Tommy tugged the covers up until they were over Evan's shoulders, then he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

Evan smacked a couple times, burrowing his head further into Tommy's neck. Tommy closed his eyes, breathed him in. Felt Evan's heartbeat against his chest. Listened as his breathing evened back out.

He closed his eyes, but he didn't fall back to sleep.

The next day they both had work, but Tommy ended up getting distracted so many times that his captain wouldn't let him fly. Tommy couldn't even argue with the decision.

They next day, when they both got off shift, Evan arrived a little later than Tommy with burritos in hand.

“They're from your favorite food truck,” Buck told him with a smile. “You haven't been eating much lately, so I wanted you to have something good.”

Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him that the thought of eating made him feel like throwing up. He choked down every single bite of his burrito, then managed to pull Evan into the bedroom for a nap.

Well, sex first, then a nap.

As he laid on Evan's chest, one arm curled up beside him and the other over Evan's pec, he glanced down at the scar. How it raised ever so slightly from the rest of his skin, bright pink against the white.

His chest ached. His eyes burned. The call that he'd forced in one ear and out the other repeated over and over now. “We need an ETA on air support on the Marriott fire downtown! Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118 has been seriously injured. He fell and was impaled by a metal object. Goes through to his back. Unclear at this time if any major organs were hit, but he's losing a lot of blood and his heartbeat is irregular.”

Tommy didn't realize he'd started crying until Evan stiffened underneath him.

“Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft but concerned. “Babe, what's wrong?” He tried to move them so he could look at Tommy, but Tommy just clung onto him tighter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a stunted, shaky breath. “Nothing. S'nothing.”

“Well th- that's obviously not true.” He ran his hands through Tommy's hair, then over his shoulders and down his back. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

Tommy gave himself a second to calm down. He wiped his eyes before he slowly sat up to face Evan. Evan scooted up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard. He took Tommy's hand, moving his head to meet Tommy's eyes as he tried to look away. “Tommy.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Please, I'm worried.”

“I... I was so scared.” He breathed out the words like he was admitting to some wrongdoing. “Evan, when you... When I heard it was you over the radio, I was terrified.”

Buck pulled Tommy toward him, wrapping him back up in his arms. “I knew something was wrong. I talked to Cap about it. He said not to push.”

“I was trying to be strong for you. I'm not the one who got hurt.”

“You don't ever have to be strong for me, Tommy. You're allowed to feel things.”

Tommy leaned back enough to be able to look at Evan. “I just put myself in survival mode,” he said. “It was all about getting you better. I could focus on that and not worry about anything else. But, now that you are better- which I'm very thankful for- it's... it scares me. I don't ever wanna see you like that again.”

“Me getting the all clear is what did it, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “I think it's always been there, the fear. But it definitely got worse as soon as I found out.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tommy? We're supposed to- to share stuff like this with each other.”

“I didn't want you to think I wasn't supportive of you going back to work. Because I am supportive of it. I know you're excited, and I'm excited for you. I just- I really love you, Evan.”

Buck smiled. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Tommy's in a chaste kiss. “I really love you, Tommy.”

Tommy pulled Evan to him this time, holding him in his arms. “I have no doubt that you'll be as safe as you can possibly be,” Tommy said, his hand finding its way to the scar on Evan's back. “But I'm gonna be worried for a while.”

“I think that means you care,” Buck teased.

“I really, really care.”

“I like that you care.” Buck smacked a kiss onto Tommy's chest. “If it helps, I worry about you every time I hear you're going up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it for a second. “It does help.”

Buck smiled against his skin. “Good. You think you can sleep now?”

Tommy scooted down until his head rested against the pillow, his and Evan's legs tangling together. “I think I can try.”

[often-daydreaming]

A Quick Chat

'Absolutely not!'

'I'm just gonna talk with him!'

Following the quickly escalating shouts down to the Batcave Bruce found Dick and a heavily armed Tim at each other's throats while their siblings oh so helpfully egged them on.

They were arguing about Wally and their last universal saving mission for some reason and Tim had nearly every contingency he could think of to handle a speedster on him.

-nna talk, that's it!'

'Then you can leave the gear here!'

'What's going on?'

All of his children froze, finally realizing he was here before they started shouting over each other.

'You remem-'

'-ick's trying to-'

'Father Dr-'

'-ng crazy, just because the universe re-'

'Enough!'

'Now, can someone tell me what's going on or do I have to get Alfred?'

And Jason was happy enough to tell him. 'Replacement's pissed because we finally discovered a pretty big difference with the universe after the League hit the reset button.'

Multiple screens on the Batcomputer held information on new heroes, a Junior JLD and everything Tim could dig up on two individuals. The first one was Phantom, a new addition to the Titans and had a number of detailed conspiracy theories tracking his appearances through time while the other held the detailed background information of a recently graduated Daniel James Fenton. Tim had dug up everything from his kindergarten grades to... Oh... Oh no... That explains why they were arguing about Wally.

Most of Daniel's latest online post covered his move to Gotham, his new job offer working in their engineering department and his new boyfriend Bernard. Looking at it all made it painfully easy to piece together that... 'They stole my life!'

And Dick and Tim were arguing again but Bruce knew it wouldn't get too heated and focused his attention on the gathered information. It was easy to see that a number of encounters his kids (mainly his oldest three) should have had with the Titans were adjusted just enough to fit Phantom now and Tim's involvement with the Children of Dionysus had been shifted around to involve Daniel in this new universe.

'-e universe reset doesn't mean you can ruin their lives. Phantom seems like a good kid.'

'Dowd would have left you eventually.'

Dick had to hold Tim back from launching himself at Damien while Jason and Steph stood by egging the two of them on, but then Tim got that look in his eye when Duke brought up the idea of reintroducing himself and everyone noticed.

'No.'

'Come on. Tim, you don't need another restraining order.'

'But it didn't happen in this universe so it doesn't count.'

'It counts if we still remember it!'

But Tim wasn't listening, too busy changing out of all of his gear as a plan quickly started forming together in his mind.

Why waste time with Wally when he can just as easily win over the new couple while ignoring everything else he's learned from his friends.

He'd figure it out one mess at a time. After he won Bernard back he'd figure out the situation between Red Robin and Phantom.

-_- -_- -_-

Reading over the sticky note Danny couldn't help but wonder what Clockwork meant when he wrote 'Have Fun'.

Again, I blame my medication for this, but this came from a couple of different prompts about Tim, Bernard and Danny and I just sort of went with it. Basically the main roster of the League has to stop (Pick a threat) and end up resitting the universe again. The problem is they still remember the old universe so they spend a week or two looking up any big changes and a sleep deprived Tim starts believing he barely knows Bernard in this universe when he's actually dating him and Danny. He just hasn't dug deep enough to figure out his own connection.