#like he doesn’t even need to do anything special

[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand. 

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring. 

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re- 

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast. 

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again. 

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck. 

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to. 

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand. 

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts. 

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt. 

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

-

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled. 

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust. 

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you. 

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[delulupunk]

How the batboys would react to anniversaries!

Dick Grayson

He really tries his best to spend the day with you or carve out some time, but if you’re a civilian then it’s hard. He’s got to lead the titans, stop Mr Freeze, make sure Bruce doesn’t adopt anyone else, stop Mr Freeze again!

When he finally gets to you he makes it well worth your time. He’ll confidently give you your favourite flowers because he knows exactly which ones they are.

Dick is a diehard romantic so he’ll bring you back to where you had your first date, or wherever you first met depending on how memorable the moment was.

“Sooooo, I’m assuming you remember this place…” He’ll say with a cheeky smile- nervously he’ll add, “You do like it right?”

Expect a lot of nostalgia to the early days of your relationship, which will lead to you two falling in love with each other again.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the entire World.”

Jason Todd

“Well… do you want to celebrate our anniversary?”

Jason doesn’t believe it should be any different from any other days in your relationship. Sure he wants to commentate and appreciate your time together, but you two shouldn’t be doing anything drastically different right? After all you both put a 110% into your relationship naturally.

He’ll definitely buy you a very thoughtful gift, most likely a book that reminds him of you. However Jason doesn’t have the confidence to give it to you in person, because he’s scared you’ll reject the idea or throw his affections back in his face.

Instead he’ll leave the gift for you on the beside table with a note. Which is short and to the point, but again he’s worried that he may be overestimating how much you truly care for him, so he acts aloof.

“For you, happy anniversary.”

Tim drake

He’ll probably be a few minutes late to the date looking totally disorientated. Shoving your favourite flowers into your hand he’ll breathlessly give you an apology.

“Sorry-“ pant, “riddler,” pant, “is crazy,” wheeze.

Tim is looking for more of a casual day rather than a massive extravagant event. He just wants to spend time with his lover and feel free to be himself.

The pair of you will go on a date doing something that you both find equally enjoyable so the day isn’t solely spent on one of you.

Tim’s definitely bought you something expensive to give you after the date is over. It’s something that reminded him of you when he walked past a store in the diamond district a few weeks ago and he couldn’t resist. Secretly he hopes you like it, one because his bank account took a bit of a dent, two the store doesn’t do returns and three he’ll be scared he doesn’t understand you properly.

“It suits you perfectly.”

Damian Wayne

You and Damian have dinner at Wayne Manor, which sounds very simplistic, but the little details are what makes the anniversary special.

Either you or Alfred will make the dinner, while Damian goes patrolling. This means he has the entire night to give to you and not Gotham.

You both dress up as if you’re going to a fancy gala and insist on no interruptions.

It’s just you and Damian with the fireplace silently rustling behind you and the opulence of Wayne Manor to embrace you.

The affair is quiet and romantic, not overstated and tiring. It’s just the right pace for you and Damian.

No words need to be said at the end of the meal as you both stare into the fireplace, save for a previous statement.

“Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Duke Thomas

“No it’s next week right?”

Duke is so sweet and loves you to the moon and back. Unfortunately he’s a bit forgetful. Duke however makes things up for you in an impressive fashion. If there’s one thing Duke knows it’s kindness.

You’d think he hadn’t even forgotten considering how he takes you to all the right places and says all the right things. The day goes by so quickly but it’s completely jam packed with activities.

“I know you always wanted to, so why not today!”

Since he forgot the anniversary he doesn’t buy you a specific gift, but to you the day in itself is a gift. He completely forgoes patrol all together for you.

“Please forgive me, I love you too much to let you go.”

[aizenify]

[💌] AIZEN SŌSUKE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS

[NOTE]: Aizen has a variety of character arcs, so this won't be limited to any specific one. I do plan to create a more detailed version covering the different Aizen arcs in the future, but you're welcome to request any specific one in the meantime.

[ ☕️ ] My ask box is open! If you have a specific prompt you'd like me to write about—whether it's relationships, everyday activities, or anything else—don't hesitate to ask! I encourage you to suggest whatever your heart desires.

TW: none!

This will be split into 2 sections

What does Aizen look for?

— If you were Aizen’s partner, you’d definitely be someone very special to him. Looks wouldn’t be as important; rather, it would be your personality and ideologies that matter most.

— For instance, Aizen values someone who enjoys challenges and is willing to take risks. He’s all for that, but, of course, you’d also need to be cautious at times.

— Aizen greatly appreciates a deep understanding of the world. I like to think that he and his partner would engage in philosophical conversations daily. He’d want someone to explore the world with, to venture into new places, and try new experiences. Aizen definitely strikes me as the type to enjoy travel.

— He would want someone who challenges him. Given who Aizen is, he wouldn’t be interested in a partner who is passive or follows the crowd. He wants someone who will challenge his ideas, his ethics, and his worldview. He seeks someone who is on the same intellectual level, someone equal to him, or perhaps even better. This is something he has always longed for.

— I believe Aizen is sapiosexual, meaning he is attracted to people with high intelligence, and also likely demisexual or somewhere on the aromantic/asexual spectrum. He deeply values intelligence and personal space. For him, the sexual aspects of a relationship would not be his focus; instead, he values the fundamentals. His understanding of "love" is more complex than that of most people.

— Building on what I mentioned about his view on love, you would also need to respect his needs and be patient. Trust is essential here. Aizen doesn’t easily trust anyone, so the idea of him loving someone would make him feel extremely vulnerable. While he views trust as a form of reliance, his approach to trust in relationships is different. His way of showing trust and love will likely be expressed through his actions. Perhaps after Muken, Aizen would become more open and free. Muken Aizen, after all, is much more carefree and relaxed.

I’ll keep this section as is since it’s getting long. I’ll leave the rest for another day!

What will Aizen be like with his S/O?

— Aizen would likely ask for your thoughts on his plans or if you have any alternative suggestions for execution. He enjoys the sound of his own voice, so don’t be surprised if he rambles on about his strategies or just shares his thoughts from time to time.

— He will shower his partner with gifts and words of affirmation. Aizen is incredibly attentive and will take note of even the smallest details about what you like, even if you haven’t explicitly told him.

— Quality time will be very important to him as well. Despite his preference for solitude, having someone by his side will be a refreshing change. After being alone for so long, it’s natural to crave companionship. Aizen will likely plan a variety of activities for you both to enjoy together, whether it’s shopping, cooking, or simply taking a walk. Every moment with you will be meaningful.

— Physical touch is something Aizen might find unfamiliar at first. He’s used to being cautious with those around him, especially with anyone who gets too close. However, I think he would offer hugs from time to time as a way to show that he’s there for you and cares for you. If he knows you enjoy physical affection, he’ll make an effort to meet that need, even if it takes him a while to become fully comfortable with it!

— Expect a lot of playful bantering. Aizen seems like He enjoys a bit of lighthearted back-and-forth.

— Aizen will take you out on extravagant dates or to fancy venues. He is undoubtedly classy and chivalrous, he will treat you with the utmost respect and make sure you always get the best of everything!

That’s all for now! Thank you for reading!!! This is my first published hc 🧡🤎☕️

[falcado]

Stully NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Billy: Not very affectionate, but if he feels Stu needs care, he can be protective and warm, hugging him to keep him from feeling cold.

Stu: A sweet mess. He jokes to lighten the mood but can surprisingly turn tender if Billy needs it.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Billy: Likes his own hands because he feels they give him control, plus they’re naturally long and slender. On Stu, he probably adores his neck since it’s thin, long, and easy to mark.

Stu: Loves his legs because of how they look in any position and because his height makes them long and lean. On Billy, he probably loves his intense, dark eyes (and maybe his teeth, though he wouldn’t admit that to Billy).

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Billy: Doesn’t mind getting messy, depending on the situation, though he doesn’t enjoy swallowing during oral sex and prefers to spit.

Stu: Has no filters and finds it amusing, sometimes even overly theatrical about it. Doesn’t mind swallowing.

D - Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

Billy: Sometimes fantasizes about things involving blood, especially knives. He’d love for Stu and him to carve each other’s names into their arms or bodies after sex.

Stu: Has lots of fantasies, mostly related to masochism, whether spanking Billy or the other way around.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Billy: Calculated and knows what he’s doing, aware of exactly where to kiss and touch, though not as experienced as he pretends to be.

Stu: About the same level of experience as Billy, maybe slightly less, but the main difference is their distinct approaches to sex.

F - Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Billy: Prefers being in control, in a position where he can dominate and observe Stu entirely. Likely enjoys being on top while maintaining eye contact.

Stu: Loves anything involving lots of physical contact. He’s more flexible and enjoys experimenting, though he doesn’t mind being on top occasionally.

G - Goofy (Are they serious or humorous in the moment?)

Billy: Serious, though not necessarily cold or overly rough since it’s someone he loves. He’ll adjust his pace if Stu asks.

Stu: Impossible not to laugh or make a joke. Sometimes he does it to annoy Billy or because he’s nervous and doesn’t want to feel sad during such an important moment with him.

H - Hair (How well-groomed are they?)

Billy: Always well-kept because he likes taking care of his hair, though he probably has a lot of pubic hair due to his perception of masculinity (in my headcanon, Billy has some internalized homophobia).

Stu: Likely grooms himself a lot, maybe even more than Billy. Unlike Billy, he shaves in the “bathing suit” area and likes being smooth everywhere.

I - Intimacy (Romantic aspect)

Billy: Struggles with being romantic, but if he feels connected, he can have deep and vulnerable moments, especially if he’s stressed.

Stu: An emotional whirlwind, putting all his energy into making Billy feel special. If Billy doesn’t reciprocate, he might feel discouraged but won’t show it.

J - Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Billy: Methodical, only doing it when he feels the need. Likely uses it as a stress reliever.

Stu: No filter, sees it as natural and even fun. Likely fantasizes about Billy a lot.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Billy: Bloody kink, dirty talk, impact play, and knife play.

Stu: Roleplay, praise kink, and possibly some interest in blood (though he jokes about it more than he genuinely enjoys it).

L - Location (Favorite places to have sex)

Billy: Prefers complete privacy, not interested in taking risks.

Stu: Anywhere, anytime. He enjoys the adrenaline rush of potentially being caught.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Billy: When Stu is vulnerable with him or says sweet things (might also have a praise kink).

Stu: Seeing Billy relaxed or angry (any intense emotion) drives him wild.

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Billy: Can’t stand feeling humiliated or losing the control he deems necessary, such as being tied up.

Stu: Anything excessively painful (physically or emotionally). He jokes about it but has his limits.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Billy: Skilled but does it more to please Stu than for his own enjoyment. Prefers receiving oral over giving it.

Stu: Loves it. Enjoys both giving and receiving, though he can be a bit rough or use too much teeth due to his enthusiasm.

P - Pace (Fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Billy: Slow and calculated but can speed up if the situation calls for it.

Stu: Unpredictable. Starts playful and fast but adjusts to what Billy needs.

Q - Quickie (Opinions on quickies)

Billy: Tolerates them but doesn’t prefer them. Likes planning everything out for the best outcome and gets frustrated if it doesn’t go as envisioned.

Stu: Lives for quickies. Finds them spontaneous and exciting, loving to catch Billy off guard.

R - Risk (Do they experiment or take risks?)

Billy: Only takes risks he feels he can control but is more daring with Stu.

Stu: All about risks. Finds it thrilling and fun, though he can get nervous and back out midway.

S - Stamina (Rounds, how long they last)

Billy: Can last a long time but doesn’t like dragging it out unnecessarily. Might do two or three rounds if motivated but prefers one well-executed session.

Stu: Infinite energy. Always wants more, even if Billy is done.

T - Toy (Do they own/use toys?)

Billy: Practical but curious. Has probably researched but not purchased.

Stu: Likely has a hidden collection, many of which he bought as jokes initially.

U - Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

Billy: Fair but enjoys building tension.

Stu: Playful and annoying. Stops at the worst moment just to hear Billy complain.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Billy: Quiet, mostly grunts or heavy breaths, though he might let out an occasional moan if Stu is on top.

Stu: Constant noise—talking, laughing, or moaning—regardless of the position.

W - Wild Card (Random headcanon)

Stu convinced Billy to try Ghostface roleplay before the killings began, with Stu as the killer and Billy as the victim. Stu was terrible at dirty talk, and it was a disaster, but they laughed so hard it became a cherished memory.

X - X-Ray (What’s under the pants)

Billy: Prefers comfortable, loose underwear and always keeps clean.

Stu: Sometimes wears underwear, sometimes doesn’t—it depends on his mood when he wakes up.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Billy: Linked to stress or repressed emotions. When aroused, he can be very insistent.

Stu: Always ready. His energy level makes him insatiable, though he’s less pushy than Billy.

ZZZ - Sleep (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Billy: Gets up almost immediately to clean himself but doesn’t necessarily leave.

Stu: Falls asleep like a rock, especially after multiple rounds. Always snuggles Billy before knocking out.

[officials-of-hell]

One of the funniest things about my relationship with my partner ( @eternalparadisesys ily <3 ) is that in all technicalities, we don’t actually love each other. Let me elaborate on this

I have NPD and he has ASPD. We’re both autistic and due to those specific disorders, we both are incredibly low empathy. It actually cannot even feel sympathy, that’s how low empathy xe is. On top of that we’re both aromantic and acespec. So there’s not really any emotional love, romantic love, or even really that much sexual love between us

However, we still love each other in a practical sense. My partner cannot function on its own. He is incredibly high support needs due to multiple physical and mental disabilities. So our relationship provides xem with a caretaker he can trust. Whereas I am provided with a companion and a partner in crime. I am low support needs myself, but even then I couldn’t really live alone. However due to my lower support needs, I’m able to care for my partner while it provides me someone to talk to and keep me company

I also get a lot of supply from my partner. He provides me with the attention my NPD and HPD (killer combo right there ☠️) crave

And on top of that, my partner is the reason I will be able to ultimately pursue a service dog of my own one day. Xe thinks I could benefit from one and his special interest is dogs, more specifically working dogs. As a handler itself, he knows a lot about them and wants to help me acquire one for my own disabilities

Ultimately, to the public we do come across as a very loving and doting couple. Especially if we both have certain people fronting (yes we’re both systems). But in reality, that love cannot be defined by traditional means, and I think that’s beautiful

I talked about this with my therapist and her immediate response was “well that’s why the Greeks had multiple words for love” and you know what? She was right. Our love cannot be defined by eros or agape or anything like that, but pragma? Pragma defines it well

We stay with each other because there is mutual benefit to our relationship. I think that’s beautiful and we should normalise relationships forged out of mutual benefit. It’s a unique kind of bond and I would love to see it more

I guess you could call us queerplatonic but that doesn’t seem to fully cover it in my eyes. If anyone knows a better term, please let me know

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Stranger Holidays

Some happy holiday Headcannons for our two favorite stranger things boys. To get you through the holidays. Maybe I’ll even do some more for other characters this afternoon. @loving-and-dreaming

Happy Thanksgiving

Steve Harrington

Steve’s own family is… not exactly perfect.

His concept of Thanksgiving was a dry turkey, store bought pie and silent dinners at home just before his parents leave on another trip, and he doesn’t see them again until Christmas.

But then there’s you

You and your large family, and yeah, maybe you don’t get along with all of them, but the house is still full of life and people. And for fuck's sake, better food.

You get so nervous about it too, you and your mom bicker because her and her mom are bickering. The crazy uncle who brings up politics and fights with the very obvious gay emo cousin. The wine aunt who complains that nothing was cooked right, but she only brought napkins, so everyone just rolls their eyes at her.

Steve loves all of it, though, but when he finds you stress hyperventilating in the hall bathroom, he’s quick to pull you into a big hug.

“Going to be alright. It’s just dinner.”

“I know Stevie, but why does it have to be just SO much? It’s like this every year, it's just too much.”

“That’s only because you build up the Holiday to be so important. It’s ok, it's only dinner. Not everything’s going to be perfect, but it will be ok nonetheless. Breathe, breathe babe will get through this I promise.”

And from then on, he would be with you through the whole thing. Holding your hand at the table, standing behind with an arm over your shoulder. Sitting on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

He’ll make sure you always have a filled drink, make sure you get a slice of your favorite pie. And once everyone’s settled down and the turkey is making everyone sleepy, he’ll be cleaning up and loading everything in the car to take you home.

From there, it’s time to cuddle all day Friday and eat only leftovers. No need to do another single thing except be with you

Which is all he ever really wants.

Eddie Munson

Thanksgiving with Eddie is not traditional in any conceivable way. Eddie doesn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. His uncle always got them some sort of ham or turkey to eat with some canned green beans or some mashed potatoes. Nothing fancy, but it was nice for the two of them.

Now with you, Eddie wants to make it special. He knows you're sad you can’t go visit your family for the holidays, but he wants you to enjoy it nonetheless.

So he works hard, in his tiny little trailer kitchen. Ask Steve and Robin for help on how to make a turkey.

It’s just a small thing, something he was able to scrounge up with some extra money he saved up.

He cooked all the traditional sides he could afford to get, and then put them all in the best-looking containers he owned.

He set the table like one of the classic 1950s posters of a nuclear family enjoying a meal. He’d never been prouder of himself than when he saw your face light up when you saw the table.

“Oh babe, this is perfect. Have you been cooking all day?”

“Actually, I’ve been cooking the last two days, but I would have worked for a week straight to see that smile on your face.”

You smiled and leaped into his arms burying your face in his neck.

You kissed him on the cheek, “I would have loved it even if you had just bought a pizza and some beers.”

“I know, but you deserve the best and that’s what you're going to get.”

He pulled out the kitchen chair for you to sit, he’d light candles on the table. And he'd even reach across it just to hold your hand while you two ate.

“What did I ever do to deserve a boyfriend as perfect as you?”

“Oh please, we both know some cosmic miscommunication occurred for me to end up with a princess like you.”

He laughed, but you'd know you’d never be more thankful for anything more than you were for Eddie.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hey, I'm feeling very awkward about this but I love love lovee your writing so here are the fics I'm looking forward to the most:

🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️

⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

(i know I've put too many of each but i kind of lost track)

Thank you so much! Take care.

Omg you DO NOT need to feel awkward! I love getting these and am so happy to receive them, so please! Also, THANK YOU! You are so kind!

48 for 🧜🏼‍♂️

---

“I’m Buck. Your dad’s friend from work.”

“Dad, you have friends?” Chris asks, not trying to be cutting, but just being blunt the way kids do. 

“Hey!” Eddie complains as Buck laughs. 

“Oh, yeah,” Buck says. “Your dad is super cool, Chris.”

Chris laughs. “Okay. I believe you.”

He believes him? Fine. Whatever. But then Eddie realizes, of course Chris is surprised. Eddie usually avoids bringing people around who aren’t family. Tries to keep his personal life separate from work. Yeah. It must seem to Chris like Eddie doesn’t have friends. And, honestly? Since leaving El Paso the way he did, he doesn’t. Except, now, for Buck. 

That friendship just sort of escalates after that night. Completely organically. Buck’s desire to help provides Eddie with a sort of relief he’s never really had before. Never really thought he could have. Someone trying to support him with no judgement, no ulterior motive. No suggestion he’s not cut out to raise Chris alone. He’s there with Eddie when Abuela breaks her hip. He’s there with Eddie when Eddie doesn’t have childcare for a shift, arranging with Bobby for Chris to come to the station. He helps connect Eddie with resources Eddie needs in the form of Carla, someone he met through an old friend, apparently. He’s kind of a godsend. And Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Eddie tries to give back as much as he’s getting, but it’s sort of hard. If there’s something Buck needs help with, he doesn’t seem to show it as much. With the exception of helping his sister move into a new apartment. Which seems like a small thing in comparison. Eddie is strong. He can lift some boxes and a couch no problem. It still doesn’t feel the same. 

What Eddie thinks he might be able to do, though, if he’s right about Buck, is maybe be someone who can uniquely understand him. That’s something valuable. Something special. Maybe even something Eddie himself craves pretty frequently. So over the course of those first few months of getting to know Buck, he tries to dig for information. Just subtly. He needs confirmation of his suspicions before he can reveal himself in turn. 

---

48 for ⛅

---

Christopher doesn’t look convinced. He takes a moment to think. Buck holds his breath. 

“What’s Nico’s birthday?” Chris asks after a beat. 

Fuck. 

Buck looks at Eddie for help. But why would Eddie know any better than him? Neither of them knows the answer to that. 

“Oh my god,” Chris accuses. “You don’t know.”

“Listen,” Eddie pleads. “Chris…”

“It’s June 15th,” Chris interrupts him. “Right before yours, Buck. How don’t you know that?”

All Buck can do is shoot Eddie a little frustrated glare. 

“I warned you this might happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie hisses back. “I didn’t think it through! You were right!”

“Tell me the truth,” Chris says. “Seriously. What the hell is going on?”

Neither Buck or Eddie says anything for a second. 

“Alright,” Chris says lowly. “I’m calling Bobby.” 

“No!” Buck more or less yelps. “Don’t-don’t do that. Okay? It’s okay, alright. We just… We woke up here, and-and we don’t know what’s going on, but-”

“Buck!” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t need to worry about this!”

“He already is!” Buck protests. “He’s clearly already freaked out!”

Eddie looks betrayed. Like genuinely hurt that Buck would tell the truth. Buck doesn’t understand why. Why would he want Buck to lie to Christopher? Especially an adult Christopher who can presumably handle the truth. 

---

48 for 🔼

---

Jane is born nearly two weeks early, in the middle of the month. December 16th. Which is probably a more convenient birthday than her actual due date, but nevertheless, Shannon isn’t expecting it. 

She’s at Eddie’s house, with Maddie and Christopher. She and Eddie have been slowly moving her into his house in preparation for the baby. The plan is that she’ll stay there for a few months, so Eddie can be around to help. Her apartment is too small for the four of them, so this is the best solution. 

So Maddie is over, helping her set up some baby things while Eddie is at work. Not because Shannon and Eddie really need help with the baby stuff, but because Maddie sort of needs someone to talk to. She’s on suspension from work. Not ideal. And the situation is sort of wild, Shannon won’t lie. But she’s empathetic towards Maddie, understands why she did what she did. And she’s sure as hell going to be a listening ear. 

Or, at least, she’s going to try. Her water breaking mid-conversation was not on the agenda. 

This didn’t happen with Christopher. He was late and she had to be induced, and nothing felt sudden or spontaneous. It was slow and horrible and… Well, neither she nor Chris made it out of that without consequences. Shannon had sort of expected this time to go similarly. She’s honestly been dreading the whole thing. 

And now it’s, apparently, here.

“Fuck,” Shannon exhales when it happens, standing in the hallway outside Eddie’s - temporarily Shannon’s - bedroom. 

Maddie gives a tiny gasp. “Well, look at that.”

“Shit,” Shannon continues cursing. “Maddie, I’m not ready. I’m supposed to have more time.”

Maddie sort of transforms into nurse mode. Shannon knows this is in her career history, obviously. But she hasn’t actually seen it. Apparently she frequently uses this tone on Buck, though. 

“Well, you don’t have time. I’m sorry, but it’s okay. We’ll get you through this.”

“Damn it,” Shannon groans. She hasn’t felt any contractions yet, so this could still take a while. If it goes too long, they’ll induce her again… She can’t do that. Not again. She thinks she’d rather have a c-section. “My body… It’s not good at this. I’m… I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Maddie says firmly. 

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 Adam chuckled to himself, he guessed that maybe having someone be able to play with them, other than Adam improved their attitude. Later that evening as Adam laid in bed, his children sound asleep in their nursery and the baby in his cradle. Adam had gotten the chance to read this romance book Angel suggested to him months ago. However, he never got the chance to read it as he’d been so busy and tired. Not only that but he just didn’t have the energy to want to read it. Like so many other things that he found enjoyable.

Now that he was managing better he was taking in more of his hobbies. He even took up his guitar yesterday and rocked out in his office that he hadn’t been in since Eden was born. He even had a couple ideas for a new song! Just like the guitar this book made him fill with joy, he guessed it was just the little things he missed. Even though the plot of the book was as intriguing as it was steamy.

He heard his husband enter the room and hummed a greeting, not looking up from his book. Soon Lucifer laid next to him and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. That made him put down his story and turned to the devils soft smile.

Lucifer: Hi Addie, how was your day?

Adam: Good, and you?

Lucifer: It was a bit hectic with paperwork but I’m looking into getting an assistant for that.

Adam: That’s a good idea sweetie. You need as much help as I do. With an assistant maybe you’ll get more time with me and the kids

Lucifer: Sounds fantastic babe, oh speaking of I was thinking this weekend we can take a trip to Lulu world and stay at one of the new hotels I told you about.

One of the things Lucifer had been so busy lately with were the chain of hotels that was surrounding his park. He thought it was a good idea to give the opportunity for families to stay for more than one day. Adam had to admit it was a nice idea. Adam: I certainly like the idea of having a little family vacation. I don’t think we’ve been to Lulu world since I got pregnant with Damien

Lucifer: Yeah! This will be Dami first trip so obviously I’m going to make it a special one.

Adam: I don’t doubt it for a second. Hey we should also invite Charlie, Vaggie is also coming since you know she doesn’t leave our girl’s side for nothing.

Lucifer: (grins) That’s a great idea! Oh should we also bring Mindy along?

Adam: hmm, I guess to help when you and want some alone time. We can even let her check out some stuff at the park when we don’t need her.

Lucifer: That, sounds like a plan. (Yawns) well I’m beat, you need anything Adam?

Adam smiled while shaking his head. He felt Lucifer gently grab hold of him and bring him closer to his body as Lucifer snapped the lights out. Adam hadn’t felt so close to his husband in so long and it felt amazing to finally feel the warmth of his angel. Sure they would still have troubles in the future and the darkness in Adam would never truly ever go away but they would handle it, together.

The End💗

The Hollow Beast

@things-arent-what-they-seem66, here's that post-partum Adam au we talked about! Hope your prepared for some pretty heavy angst.

(This is just a warning for anyone who has suffered post-partum there can be a few scenes in this where it could be triggering for some readers so if that's not for you then you should probably steer clear of this, other than that enjoy readers)

An ear-piercing scream jolted Adam awakes. As it had been for the past month and a half. He groaned before turning to shake his husband awake.

Adam: Luci, Luci please get up for once.

All he received was a snore from the left side of the bed. Adam sighed heavily as he pinched his nose in frustration. He wanted to simply ignore the screaming creature in the cradle by the foot of the bed but and go back to sleep but knew it would be in vain. So slowly but surely, he made his way out of the bed and walked over to the cradle that held the little screaming beast he called son. Damien, their recent child had not only been the most difficult of their children as an infant but had also been a nightmare of a pregnancy.

Adam was constantly sick all the way to the end, his back hurt all the time, and he was even put on bed rest during the sixth month of pregnancy. The birth itself was horrible to say the least. Their son was a twenty-seven-hour labor where eventually Belphegor had to perform a C-section. But it was all worth it when their son was safely delivered into their arms, with only a few minor health issues.

Or at least that's Adam kept telling himself.

Lately he has been feeling the strain with not only one baby who was endlessly crying whether that be day or night but two. His second oldest daughter Eden was two years old, that meant she was at that stage of the terrible two's. Let him tell you was not an easy stage. Her tantrums were incessant, and she constantly wanted to be near her mama, while he was dealing with Damien. His other toddler Mallum, who was four, wasn't so bad besides him constantly running around bothering anyone who would look in his direction to play with him.

Especially his father, Lucifer who stated that he was all so busy nowadays performing his kingly duties. Apparently so much so that he couldn't perform a single act of his fatherly duties or even his marital duties. But that was neither here nor there, Adam simply focused his attention on his baby who after a whole damn hour he managed to somehow get him to sleep. Gently as he could he placed his son back down and quietly crept back into bed. He rests his eyes for a single moment before he felt Lucifer rustle against him and felt him laying on top of him. He opened his eyes and groaned internally when he saw a very familiar look inside those yellow, red orbs

Lucifer: Hey, you awake Beautiful?

[edwinisms]

see I can’t accept charles’ comic background and socioeconomic status as canon for the show because if I did that would mean the whole group would be a bunch of rich kids and that’s a horrifying concept

[quietwingsinthesky]

Still bothered by Azazel possessing a reaper. How tf did you do that, old man.

[wolke17]

I know gege has an in-universe rule that encourages the deliberate revelation of your cursed technique to your opponent. but man, sometimes it’s the strategically smarter move to shut up and surprise your enemy. especially since you already introduced a narrator that can explain the technique for the readers/viewers instead

[9trixieturner6]

Oh yeah no I get that enjis wasn’t a persona he was just a standoffish dick. I was saying if he had more knowledge in how to handle people or work a crowd he could have done that encounter wrong. And yeah in the future there may very well be a mistrust against rough and tumble heroes we don’t know, given how the biggest focus wasn’t even on what endeavor did to his family but more that he was related to a villain I can’t really say what the general audience reaction is gonna be in the future. Maybe they’ll just think bakugos rude.

Once again could be we don’t see what dropping is, does dropping mean wow he went from fourth to fifth or seventh to fifteenth or seventeen to twenty eight or to a hundred and ninth.

That one is a rough one since it is subjective, unless specifically told something like horikoshi saying yes X and Y were intentionally done and mean this you can take anything done in the story a lot of ways. And even if he does come out and says something like that nothing is stopping people from viewing it another way if they want to it’s one of the best things about art, it’s subjective so anyone can take it how they want.

As for not being brought up again that’s all how you wanna take it, author bias and just not showing what’s going on in the background or is the author showing it isn’t happening anymore. It’s in the tone of how it’s presented too, a lot of people call bakugo an angry Pomeranian lightheartedly cause horikoshi has been showing his personality more for comedic effect since the school festival arc. You can take that as just ignoring the problem or showing it’s not a problem anymore and just a gag. Nothing wrong with either view it’s just a matter of perspective.

Do you mean how he fails for his bad bedside manner? Cause yeah by that point that’s where his biggest weakness was, that’s why he failed it while kaminari and kirishima passed just by helping those two people.

Yeah that one is a mixed bag that falls into the shonen logic cycle. Since this is the main characters test it doesn’t fit the same mold as everyone else’s test. More than being a test against all might it was pretty much just an excuse to start building the bridge between them and honestly it could have been done at any time it didn’t need to be here.

Yeah all might even has that line of working together was a prerequisite not something special, but again that’s on the author giving the test special treatment cause it’s major characters. Just like with shotos and momos, it was more for their growth than to be a true test.

Oh for sure I one hundred percent get that, horikoshis writing falls into that weird space between show don’t tell and keeping the status quo. He likes to have these big moments that show growth or change and has characters point it out to say see this is a bullet point in their growth, instead of more slowly integrating it and letting it slow burn in the background. It’s like he does with deku and aoyama, we really don’t get any build up just all of a sudden they’re friends having this big bonding moment, then it’s completely gone and ignored till it needs to come up for some reason like the traitor plot.

What bothers me the most about Izuku's character is that it seems like he can't feel anything, like because he can't be angry with what happens to him, you know why he can't have negative feelings towards Bakugou? This admiration he has for the bomb boy is not normal and healthy, it reminds me of Stockholm Syndrome. Bakugou stans say that Izuku is boring, but when talking about this thing about him not being angry with Bakugou, they keep saying that we don't understand Izuku's character. What's your opinion? Am I exaggerating?

I don't think you're exaggerating. In fact, I think it's deliberate on Horikoshi's part.

I began to realize Izuku's character was regressing the minute I first came across this scene:

This is the only scene I can justify hating Izuku's character because it was such an out of pocket line coming from him. And it kind of stuck in my head for weeks because it felt so OOC. Like, Izuku of all characters pushing for Todoroki to forgive Endeavor? It made no sense to me.

But do you see how it pans to Bakugou?

To me, this is Horikoshi indirectly attempting to absolve Bakugou. Izuku's line here is trying to communicate that that's how he feels about Bakugou.

Similarly to All Might saying Izuku doesn't hold what Bakugou did against him, this is another piece of plot manipulation from Horikoshi. Bakugou's redemption is pushed through the words of others, not through his actions. Especially when it comes to how he treated Izuku.

If Izuku, at any point, was still upset or noticeably traumatized by Bakugou's actions, Bakugou couldn't have been reasonably redeemed. Because there would be no feasible reason to even have him around Izuku and the only reason Bakugou's even relevant is due to Horikoshi sticking him onto Izuku in every arc

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[yanderenightmare]

TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

fem reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[yowlthinks]

Also, and let us not forget this in a hurry, it is sexy as fuck.

Crowley exposing his neck in Aziraphale's presence

Exposing the neck: If a person makes an attempt to elongate their neck or expose the side of their neck to you, it may mean “I feel vulnerable” or “I'm flirting with you.” Neck exposing is more common among couples early in a relationship.