Hello there! I'm fine with people venting to me :)----She/her, 20s----Currently writing a book. (ik this bio is so random but idk what to write lmao) hmu?
taking a break from the sticky icky verse to talk about hybrid shifters and the 141. let’s do price first
bear!price who’s quiet and looming, and big, you can see that he’s big of course he is he’s a bear hybrid, but you don’t realize that that’s him not even standing at full height, not even standing with his tired shoulders straight and broad, and when he does, when he unfolds into his true height and breadth, he’s so fucking big
bear!price who by far prefers nature to the city, solitude to crowds, and takes every opportunity he can on leave to go camping somewhere, his favorite places are far flung and often cold, and he finally decides to pull the trigger, buys a patch of land in the middle of nowhere, builds himself a self sustaining cabin (all the necessary luxuries like hot water, old man like him needs it, and it’ll serve as a good safe house if he or the team ever need it so it’s a good investment)
bear!price who prefers to hunt his own food when he can do so, rather than just go to the supermarket or a restaurant like other hybrids nowadays, he likes the hunt, likes to be responsible for his own meals, and one day at that Alaskan cabin he’s out by the river for salmon, and when he reaches in for a fish what he hauls out is an otter, which quickly shifts in his heavy hand into a woman, soaked and shivering in the chill air, her little round ears flat to her head and thick, furry tail wrapped around her long legs
bear!price who brings her into his house, sets her in front of the roaring fire with a plateful of salmon and gently pulls her story out of her: she’s not wild, not feral, she just got lost on a hike a few days ago and as an otter hybrid she’s warmer and safer in freshwater than out in the wild…even if it means she’s floated down the river while she slept and now she doesn’t know WHERE the hell she is
bear!price who feeds her and puts her in his clothes (she lost hers in the first shift poor thing) who has to carry her around the cabin because she’s so clumsy on land, and wraps her in his blankets and can’t stop looking at her. can’t stop rubbing her soft little ears between his thumb and forefinger, making her blush and shudder, can’t stop petting her tail tucked beside her on the one chair in his cabin that he insisted she take
bear!price who, when she says that she’s still cold that night, takes great pleasure in wrapping her in his arms and pressing her down into the bed, who swallows each of the adorable little squeaks she makes as he nuzzles her throat, forces her thighs wide to fit his hips, and forces his cock inside
bear!price who’s too big for a pretty little otter like her but makes her take it anyway, crooning that she can take it she’s doing so good just hold out a little longer he just needs to fuck his scent into her so she smells right and he can sleep, licks her tears off her cheeks when she cums as his cockhead rams up against her womb, little claws raking ineffectively at his skin never able to break through
bear!price who decides mid fuck that she’s the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever felt and a pussy that tight can’t walk away from him. he deserves something soft to come home to, something to take his cock and cry about how big it is and just be so fucking sweet and soft for him. decides he’ll keep the little stray after all, now aren’t you grateful sweetheart? he’s gonna be so good to you, why don’t you thank him by taking his load?
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imagine if Nikolai, methodical and calculating to a T, met someone who's forgetful, chaotic, and just fully disorganised at a coffee shop or something when they tripped on their own foot and spilled their overly sweet (thankfully cold) drink on his clothes and they're so flustered and embarrassed and he's jyst thinking "aww, poor thing needs me"
ANYWAY NO PRESSURE BYEE
UM YES ABSOLUTELY I LOVE (also sorry this took me literally forever to get to, i had to exorcise graves from my brain first haha)
lets break this down, shall we?
nikolai has one true vice. sure he smokes, and he fucks, and he drinks, but he doesn't treat any of those like vices, like things that if he were denied he'd tear apart entire countries for. no. his vice is control. and he controls everything around him. and he can't understand, doesn't even bother to pretend to understand, why other people don't get the same satisfaction out of it he does.
nikolai is careful. he's smart and he's careful and he uses both of those things like weapons, because in his business if you're not careful and smart you're dead. it's second nature to him now, the methodical sweeps of all rooms he enters (only after he's researched the building it's blueprints and history and ownership etc the night before), the triple checking of intricate locks (that he made with his own hands or under his supervision because there's no such thing as too careful), all of it.
nikolai has every moment of his life planned out, every year, every month, every day, every minute. and he likes it like that. he's got built in failsafes for when those plans get shot to smithereens, especially as situations develop and blow up in his or the 141's faces. but that's only to be expected, in his line of work. he prepares for multiple possible shit shows, he's got plans for a hundred different types of apocalypses, the man views life as a chess game, one that he is indisputably winning.
nikolai loves a routine, and especially he loves his new morning routines when he turns into his coffee shop and finds a new face tucked away in the corner of the shop at four forty each morning, studying on a lilac ipad with matching headphones and an external keyboard. she's fascinating, because it just took one morning for him to realize she was his exact opposite. the papers she pulls out from her bag are crunkled and crumpled and disorganized. her pretty hair is always slipping out of the haphazard knot she's stuck it in on top of her head. and she's clumsy. she got up to ask for a refill the first morning he noticed her. it wasn't a tiny shop, and there were just the two of them in there, if he hadn't known better to pay attention to her hands he would've thought she was just a pickpocketer when she tripped over nothing and landed hard against his chest.
nikolai might have a new vice. because it's plain to see, watching her shuffle anxiously through her papers and try to find hastily scrawled sticky notes she's left for herself (the one she's looking for at the moment is stuck to the bottom of her shoe), that she needs some order in her life. that she needs discipline. and nikolai is going to give it to her. going to fill her life with structure, not to suffocate her, sweet little chaotic whirlwind that she is, but to give her the proper environment to truly blossom. to ease that tearful panic in her face when she realizes she can't find the note, that vanishes into a blinding smile when he offers it to her between his fingers after a careful extraction.
nikolai definitely has a new vice. because she likes to fight his changes to her life. his being in it permanently, for one, was something she tried to fight, though it lasted an amusing six minutes before he had her cumming on his fingers. she's a stubborn, willful thing, but that just makes it so much sweeter, so much prettier when he can get her to bend to his will. and he always, always gets her to bend. at least when it's important. the other things, like whether or not she can keep her own apartment after they're married, he lets her have free rein over. it makes her happy, and it's not like she's going to be spending any time there anyways. not when he's got her addicted to the taste of his praise on her tongue as he forces her tight pussy to take his fat cock for the third time in a row.
Nikto fucking you in the hallways of the base, just to prove to you that no one gives a shit about you or the fact that he’s kidnapped you and keeps you on his cock even when you cry “no” and “please stop”. König comments on how pretty you look when you cry and Roze and Stiletto both take the time to suck and pinch at your nipples. But Krueger? He just unzips his pants and tries to nudge his cock up right against Nikto’s, laughing at the way you cry harder and cling to your kidnapper, begging him not to let Krueger do this to you.
kidnapper!simon riley when you warm up to him.
cw: kidnapping and stockholm syndrome
simon was a selfish man, a pure debauched and corrupt soul with immoral fantasies. none of which he had acted out, because no one had satisfied that one itch he couldn't scratch, until he caught eye of a sweet thing like you.
met purely in passing, not sparing him a second glance as you ushered by. he wasn't surprised, a pretty thing like you wouldn't dare pay mind to a sickening man such as himself, even if you hadn't known it in the moment.
but he knew he had to have you, oh, you were such an enigma, one he wanted to pry apart himself, crack you rib by rib until your heart laid unprotected to him. such a pretty thing he wanted to have.
oh, and even prettier you are when you cried, thrashing and writhing against him. you fought hard, harder than he expected for a little darling he painted you to be. his dark voice cooed in your ear, asking, almost sweetly, for you to calm down.
how could you, though, as he took you far from the city, a little cabin in the woods with smoke billowing out of the brick chimney. homey, almost, if it weren't for the fact he dragged you through the forest, hauling you roughly over his shoulder the more you struggled.
he kept you in the dark, dingy depths of the cellar, your soft sobs causing his skin to crawl. sure, he felt bad at your broken cries, but he wasn't plagued with guilt, or remorse, it didn't keep him up at night.
he was a poor man, a social reject, and the fact you treated him as such is what kept him up. he was gruff, blunt, unwanted and cryptic. it didn't stop him from fucking his fist, rough palm tightly wound around his aching, meaty cock drooling with pre. head thrown back and pupils blown as he imagined your tear-stained face before he came on his soft stomach, cleaned himself up, and rolled over in bed.
but he took care of you, or at least he tried. you didn't eat the food he beared, in fear of poison, or wear the clothes he provided, because maybe that would be acceptance. it caused a frown to watch you grow thinner.
he watched the way you recoiled from his dirty hands, stained and tainted, even he was hesitant to touch your pure skin, but after a while, he realised you might never come around, and he couldn't let you starve. not after all his effort.
sure, you were squirming under his muscly arms, nails digging into his flesh as he gently spooned food to your lips, holding you against his broad chest. it was a slow process, but the more he managed through to your throat, the more you relaxed.
your body remained tense and poised, but at least you were no longer fighting him and now eating. admittedly, it tasted good, and maybe that's where everything turned around, he thought.
because now the house was free-reign, no longer did he keep you in that musty cellar, but he did proof the house of any escape. with this new space, unbound, it was like you had reverted to your old behavior, until eventually, your old habits began to die.
you didn't know why or how it had developed, but now you had such a deep yearning, an insatiable want, for domesticity that you'd start lingering by his side, like a rough shadow, but you'd still stumble back if he turned too sharply, or took a step too quick.
he didn't mind, though, he just hadn't expected it, not after you'd put up such a fight when he first took you, but he remained cautious. maybe you'd become a fawn, appeasing him until he had given you enough freedom to slip from his grasp.
but you looked to him with doting eyes as you slipped under his arm, face nuzzled into his broad chest, hearing the way his heart thumped. it made you feel warm, and fuzzy. you couldn't help but feel bad for simon, depraved and socially excluded, a truly sick man. maybe it was best to give him what he wanted.
the wooden floors creaked barely under your weight as you carried yourself from the uncomfortable couch in the living room, the flames in the fireplace burning out as night began to settle. simon lay in the haunting dark of his bedroom, blankets lazily thrown over him as he laid in his cold, lonely bed.
his ears perked at the sound of movement, hairs raised on the back of his neck, and he held slight fear that maybe you'd come to stab him in his sleep, but all worries dissipated as the bed dipped, sheets ruffling as you tucked yourself into his chest, leeching his warmth as he held you through the night. pressing a kiss to your temple at your acceptance, that you were now his.
Price loves to overstimulate you until you're in tears. Pussy sore and throbbing. His fingers deep inside you, massaging your insides until you cum again and again while your moaning and whining. He holds you down to get every last drop out.
Soap is an absolute pussy eater at heart. He'll dive down for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He especially loves it when you're freshly out of the gym or work and he smells how musky and sweaty you got. You get embarrassed but he tells you it adds "flavor."
Gaz likes to hold your hands, his fingers slotted between yours as he gently fucks you into the mattress. It makes it so much more intimate to him. And he whispers sweet words and encourages into your ear to send you over the edge.
Keegan loves making out with you the entire time. Teeth biting your lip and tongue, his own tongue deep in your mouth like he's trying to reach your throat. He likes to hold the back of your neck and control your angle to his liking.
Ghost loves to caress every inch of your body as if you're made of glass. Sliding up your sides to squeeze your breasts, then down to hold your hips and massage them, moving them to his rhythm.
Königs favorite is the stretching to get you to fit him. The man is atleast 9 inches long with the girth of three to four of yours fingers. An absolute monster. But he loves to watch you squirm and writhe as he spreads his fingers to get you nice and loose for his cock. Murmuring about how you can take it.
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your vocabulary is like a teenage boys'. the word 'fuck' is thrown between like, every other word.
the guys think its hilarious. you're this tiny, angry little spitfire, swearing like a sailor.
for some reason though, it really bothers Price. the other guys swearing doesn't really bother him all that much, but with you... it makes him twitch.
maybe its because you're considerably younger than the team, still a grown-ass adult, but maybe he still sees you as a little kid. especially when you talk like one.
Price has tried to ween you off of it slowly, incorporating a swear jar that started to fill alarmingly quickly, (he had to force all the guys to use it so that you wouldn't feel targeted). its suspiciously gone missing though, he'll have to follow up on that.
after that failed to work, he implemented a new rule, swear during the day, and do that many laps around the yard in the evening.
it didnt work though, you've just got too much energy, you're zipping around the yard for fun, swearing more just for the excuse not to do it.
after all else fails, Price gives up on gentle parenting and corners you after a particularly bad bout of language.
he scruffs you by the back of your shirt and drags you to the sink. reaching into the cupboard, he pulls out a wrapped bar of soap.
you begin to protest, squirming in his grip and trying to break free.
its useless and before you know it his hand is forcing your jaw open and the bar of soap is placed on your tongue.
"hold it there until I say so" he says, and when you wine. "do you want to be sent to the corner too?"
deciding to forgo a second childish punishment you shut up, but it doesn't stop your silent pouting.
Price can't help but huff in amusement, ruffling your hair.
"its for your own good," he tells you.
an hour or so later, the rest of the force walks in to find you asleep, soapy drool down your chin.
you're leaning against Price on the sofa, he's got one hand stroking your hair, and the other cradling the mysteriously missing swear jar.
summary: the ED is overwhelming at the best of times. for a sensitive type-O coming up on their heat, it's unbearable. you try not to be a stereotype, but you can't help wishing someone would hold you. you don't expect that person to appear in the middle of an emotional meltdown - and you certainly don't expect them to be your boss.
a/n: i have boarded the omegaverse train and i'm not getting off. HEAVILY inspired by the incredible Did's 'take a sad song and make it better' series, which i recommend to anyone even if they aren't magnus archives fans - i'm near 100% certain they originated the subvocal trope in ABO so i think it's pretty fundamental. . GIF by @lauraneedstochill
It always frustrated you how easy it is for type A’s in the Pitt. Not even for the stupid gender bias (though granted, that resentment is always simmering somewhere) but for how naturally their subvocalizations fit into their work. Walsh can snarl out a back off whenever anyone’s crowding her during surgery, Santos can bark mine on any case she’s calling dibs on. Robby’s subvocals run like a motorcycle engine all day, get away and follow me and careful and I’m watching you rumbling out of his chest with every tiny problem.
… That’s a little unfair. Sometimes he makes nice noises - a gentle be brave for a kid getting their blood drawn, or an all safe for a panicking victim.
It’s usually the mean ones, though.
It’s no one’s fault. Sure, Robby could benefit from a psych consult, but what else is new? It’s emergency medicine, tensions are always high and personal feelings just aren’t as important as the patient coding in the trauma bay. Still, it’s difficult to manage, especially for people like you. You’ve always been sensitive. Maybe a little too sensitive for emergency medicine, though some might say that’s exactly why you should be here. Every doctor here loved to preach about how empathy and gentleness go a long way in the Pitt - shame the alphas never bother to take their own advice. Sometimes their growls get too deep and they snarl with a little too much teeth, and your stomach flares with the primal instinct to collapse and whimper I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m small I’m frightened forgive me protect me I’m sorry. But you’ve been in med school for years, a doctor for two and an omega for more than twenty - you’ve spent your whole life learning to leave your baggage at the door. To focus on your medical instincts instead of your physiological ones. You know how to puff out your chest and play with the big bad alphas in the trauma bays.
When you’re due for your heat though, it’s harder to keep up the facade. That’s why you’re here. Hiding in PPE storage during shift-change. You begged Shen to hand off your patients to day-shift for you - perhaps it was a little cruel to whip out the puppy-eyes for such a petty problem, but you blame those type-B instincts of his. As aloof as he seems, seeing a type-O in distress is always going to tug at his heartstrings. You don’t like to take advantage of that too often - usually when you’re due for your heat (or working through it on suppressants, which is a little bit frowned upon, but it’s not like anyone’s going to send a healthy doctor home from the ED) you can stick out the discomfort, the sweats and the sensory overload until you get home. The second your apartment door closes, you’re trilling up and down your pokey little walk-up, your subvocals singing like a soprano - Hello? I’m here? I’m small. Help me? Take care of me? Someone take care of me? It’s humiliating, bordering on masturbatory, but emergency practitioners aren’t known for healthy coping mechanisms, and you’re no different. You’ve learned this habit since you were young, smothering self-soothing purrs into your pillow at night, praying no one heard and thought you weak for it. It only got worse in med-school. Student doctors were sharks in the water, and if they smelled blood, their competitive instincts would eat you alive. So you’d sneak out of your dorm and onto the roof, in cupboards, even a morgue on one sad, desperate occasion. No need for anyone to hear. No need for anyone to see you as yet another helpless, hysterical omega who can’t hack it with the grown-ups.
Settled in PPE storage, you allow yourself to breathe. You’ve hunkered down between two compact storage shelves, the crank only pulled enough to make a space just barely big enough for your body, so the cool steel walls press flush against your sides. When your senses start getting overwhelmed, you need stability. Firm pressure locking you in place. Mel’s taken to asking Langdon to give her a quick squeeze between cases whenever she’s in need of grounding - not that they ever do it in the middle of the ED, of course. You only found out when you walked in on them in the stairwell, Mel tucked in Langdon’s arms, purring a happy tune of safe, warm, thank you. One warning growl from Langdon was all it took to send you turning tail back into the ED. But you never stopped thinking about it.
Maybe if you asked nicely, Shen wouldn’t mind helping you out. You’re sure it wouldn’t be the nicest - he’d probably give you a perfunctory two-second squeeze and send you on your way. Still, even if it’d leave you wanting more, it’d be better than nothing… You shake your head forcefully. No. You won’t do that. You’re not going to randomly interrupt an attending to ask for a hug, especially when you’re on your heat. Shen could make the process as clinical as possible, it’d still send the rumour mill flying. You dread to think what Princess and Perlah would say if they found out.
You sigh, letting yourself soak in the darkness. You turned out the lights when you came in, the fluorescence too much for your sensitive eyes - the only remaining light is the soft beam from the hallway through the glass pane in the door. You settle against the two shelving units, let the cool metal soothe your burnt nerves. On a deep breath, you relax the muscles in your throat. Your sub-vocal cords hum gently, a little stiff from suppressing them all day. Mel had once asked you if you worried about long-term damage, but you’d always found that to be a bit of an urban myth. Your cords were perfectly healthy - if anything, it was hard to stop once you got going.
A mournful little purr echoes from behind your teeth.
Hello? Is anyone there? I’m lonely.
It’s always embarrassing to do this. It’s so cliche. The sad little omega crying for someone to take care of them. Fuck, you could be the topic of some red-pill podcast - a case-study on type-O’s being physically unsuited to high-stress environments. It’s all bullshit, of course. You’re just as good a doctor as any type-A, sometimes better for your experience in type-O healthcare. But your success doesn’t free you from scrutiny. Only your failures.
I’m here. I’m alone. Someone take care of me.
You tilt your head into the pit of your elbow, trying to muffle the sharp, synthetic scent of plastic and disinfectant. You want warmth. You want a strong body holding you close. Hot tears prick your eyes - you sniffle into your scrubs. Fuck, you really are due for your heat.
Help me? I’m sad. I’m fertile-
Oh, definitely due for your heat-
-I’m a little thing. I’m soft. Someone touch me. Someone please love me.
A beat passes. You take another steadying breath. A few more minutes, you decide. A few more minutes and then you’re gone.
And then, distantly-
Hello?
You freeze. Your neck jerks upright, swivelling towards the beam of light from the hallway. Scrap the shelving unites and the brutalist architecture and you’d look like a deer in a meadow, spooked by its own echo.
Hello? Where are you? Are you there?
Except it’s not an echo. That is a rich, smoky subtone, low and gravelly and powerful - the total opposite to your soft type-O chirping. Worst of all, it’s the subtone you least want to hear right now.
In a moment of hormone-fuelled, pre-heat panic, you shove your body into a gap in the shelving unit - you’re sure a pile of blankets must’ve been there, because it still smells like stale fabric and too-much detergent, but it’ll make a suitable burrow for now. There’s no way to close the gap in the shelves without turning the crank from the outside, so all you can do is hide and pray that Abbot doesn’t notice the suspiciously person-sized space between the shelving units. Hope he just assumes someone left the crank open and leaves.
Are you there? I’m not aggressive. I’ll protect you. Are you okay?
The gentle rumbling warms you right to the chest, and that treacherous, unevolved part of your brain wants to cry out for him. You hold your breath, strangle your vocal chords tight, and curl tighter into your hiding place.
The light switches on. Fluorescence burns your eyes, the hum of electricity making your tender ears ache. Before you can stop yourself, a whiney squeak escapes your lips, an aborted little wait-!
Hello?
Oh, God damn it-
I’m worried. Can you come out? I’ll protect you. Where are you?
You squirm in your makeshift burrow. You can feel your pulse rabbiting in your chest. Fuck, you should’ve just waited until you got home. Now your attending is going to find you throwing the world’s horniest tantrum in PPE storage.
For a moment, silence. Your breathing almost evens. Maybe he left. Probably going to tell Ahmad that a type-O patient is freaking out in the storage room, so you have about five minutes to compose yourself before you get the fuck out of here-
You feel the resonance of a hand pressing against the metal - and your eyes catch on hazel.
“Oh,” Abbot says quietly. “There you are.”
Fuck. Fuck. He must think you’re absolutely God damn insane, but it’s always impossible to tell with him - he delivers everything with a gruff mumble and intense, deadpan stare. Nevertheless, you’re an R2 curled up on the PPE shelves and wailing mating calls into the early hours of the morning. He’s probably not thinking anything good.
“Heyyy…!” You smile weakly, a pathetic attempt to sound casual. Perhaps if Abbot’s feeling merciful, he’ll let you leave without much questioning.
This attempt is immediately undermined by the sub-audible squeak in your throat - nooo, leave me aloooone....
For a fraction of a second, Abbot’s nose scrunches. You scoot your sneaker against the metal shelf, trying to force yourself impossibly further back.
“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not - God, this is so unprofessional, it’s just - it’s around that - um - that time and I usually, I swear I don’t-“
Ahhhh leave me alone! I’m little! Don’t go! Hold me! Go away!
Fucks sake. This is why you wait until you’re home - it’s so hard to get it under control once you get going…!
Abbot frowns, but if he’s saying something, you can’t hear it. Your eyes, still hazy and soft from your tears, catch on the corner of his lips. Hm. Strange. Usually, he keeps his mouth in a flat, hard line - even when he’s smirking, his lips are always stiff, hard at the edges, keeping all those squishy parts locked deep inside. It’s still flat now, serious and stern, but… There’s a softness to it. A gentle downturn at the corners. Like a hunting dog holding game by the neck.
“Hey.”
You jolt, your head dinging against the shelf above you. You hate when he does that, when his subvocals go so low they mingle in with his regular speech. He never does it intentionally, it just comes with the territory for some type-A’s - still, it reaches somewhere deep and primal in your stomach, something that turns all you want to do into whatever he wants.
“I-I’m sorry, I-!”
“No, no, it’s okay-” Abbot flounders for a moment, his hands jumping towards you for a split-second before he shoves them back to his sides. You recognize that instinct - it’s entirely medical, a reflexive move from the trauma bays. Hold your hands out, stabilize the patient, grab that tube or that scalpel or to put pressure on the bleeding or whatever else. That’s Abbot, always reaching for something to save. You usually find it sweet. Evidence of the goodness he tries to hide. Now you find it deeply, deeply frustrating. “Can you hear me right now?” Abbot says tentatively.
“I’m type-O, I’m not useless,” You snap. Abbot frowns, and you realize once again that you are currently crying inside a storage shelf.
“… Right.”
He says, the same way he speaks to med-students when they suggest something totally fucking inane - perfectly deadpan, but dripping with bafflement. Your hormones flare, your subvocal suite descending into a total type-O tantrum.
Oh! OH! How dare you. I am small. I am a BABY. How DARE you!
Abbot holds up his hands placatingly, his eyes wide and sparkling with humour.
“Oh God, shut up,” you whine, more to yourself than to him. “If you say anything, I'm quitting!"
“I’m not.” Abbot says. Smiling. The dick.
“I mean it!”
“I’m not!”
It’s so hypocritical to get emotional when he raises his voice, because he’s not even really raising it - but your nerves are so frazzled, so sensitive, that it makes you want to cry all over again. Your voice hitches in your throat, and as you try desperately to swallow the sob, your subvocals wiggle through despite your best efforts to keep them quiet.
Poor me. I’m little and soft. Take care of me?
There’s a twinge of pink glowing on his cheeks.
“Um.”
“Don’t-!” You bury your face in your hands and groan. “I just - today was a lot and I - I need to go home and-!”
It’s okay.
You jolt at the noise, staring at him slack-jawed. He’s still got his palms up, his shoulders down, trying to look as small and unintimidating as is possible for a type-A veteran with biceps bigger than your head.
You’re safe. I’m not a threat. Look how nice and not threatening I am.
“Oh, don’t give me that-!” You snap - but his soothing rumbles reach a place deep in the pit of your stomach, and before you can stop yourself, your subvocals are crying out. Yes! It’s me! I’m little! Protect me!
His eyes soften, sweet and honey-toned - any humour he had for this bizarre situation has been replaced with the patented Abbot need to protect. To fix. He holds one hand out to you in a small, coaxing gesture. You want to be offended, you really do. You’re not an awkward teen going through their first heat. But he’s all big and nice and gentle, and his soft cooing is so soothing on your ears, and how long has it been since someone held their hand out to you without asking for a surgical tool?
You take his hand and crawl out from your metal burrow, pretending you’re only letting him support you instead of drinking the warm touch in like hot cocoa. You’re kneeling on the linoleum, and you feel a little pang of guilt that he’s had to sit on his good knee for so long trying to coax you out of your pre-heat blues.
“M’sorry.” You mumble towards his shoe. There’s a shift in the air above your head as he makes an amused exhale, the closest Abbot ever comes to laughter.
“It’s okay.” He says gently. “Today was… Hard.”
There’s something about the way that he means it, the way he’s not just placating you but really means it, that warms you inside and out. He makes to pull his hand away - because you’re still holding it, letting it hover above your sternum because you’re not weak enough to press it against your skin, but you’re not strong enough to let go yet - and you can’t stop the helpless whine that escapes you.
Please! I’m good! Aren’t I good? Won’t you hold me?
He makes a sound like he’s been punched. You drop his hand like it burnt you.
“I’m sorry!” You squeak. “I don’t - I swear I don’t mean to-!”
“Would that help?”
Your head jerks up, your eyes meeeting his - and that’s the trap, really, because once you meet Abbot’s eyes, it’s impossible to break his stare - and God, you must look pathetic, because he’s looking at you half-amused and half like you’re breaking his heart.
“What?” You say weakly.
“Holding you.”
You swallow, thick and heavy. You think back to Langdon and Mel, snuggled in the hallway. The way you burned with envy for the rest of your shift - not over Langdon, but over the enviable knowledge that there was someone who protected her. Someone who would shield her from all the hardships of this place. You’d never wanted to be a cliche - the wimpy little omega in need of someone big and strong to protect her - but you couldn’t help pining for that kind of trust. That safety. You ached for it.
He’s your attending. Your alpha attending. The one who flirts with anything that moves and still goes home alone every day.
He must sense your hesitation, because he holds his arms out loosely, an invitation and not a command. He rumbles, quiet and confident-
Come here.
You scramble into his lap like it’s the safest nest you’ll ever find.
It’s possible you’re a little too enthusiastic. He wobbles backwards with the force of it, but only a little, enough to plant himself properly on the floor and let his legs splay out around you, his good knee guarding your back and his impaired leg stretched out in the space between the shelves. He curls his thick arms around you, holding you steady, and you nuzzle into his chest like it’s a pillow, letting his gruff rumblings wash over you.
Oh. Baby. Poor baby.
“I am not…” You whine, but it’s hardly convincing. The low vibrations in his chest press against you like a cup of tea against your palms, and you feel more than hear yourself chirruping in response. Yes! It’s me! Take care of me!
Good omega. Sweet little thing. So brave for me.
“Stop that,” you mumble, your words so weak that he’d be able to tell you didn’t mean it even without your subvocals crying yes! Me! I’m here. I’m soft.
“Getting mixed signals, here.” He murmurs, his smile pressed into your temple. You huff out a breath, but that does nothing to help - it only fills your airways with his smell, all smoke and pine and resin.
Mm. Alpha. Nice alpha.
The rumbling beneath your cheek stutters for a moment. Fractionally - only by a degree, really - Abbot tips his nose towards your temple, brushing over your hair. His rumbling comes back like the roar of an engine.
Hush. All’s well. I’ll protect you. You’re safe.
Finally, your frazzled nerves feel soothed. Like your whole body’s been rubbed with balm. Your vocal chords, tired from going from underuse to sudden overuse, murmur a weak little mmmsleepy, and then go quiet. There’s a beat of silence, neither of you quite sure where to go next. Truthfully, you don’t want to go anywhere at all. You would live here if you could, swaddled in Abbot’s arms.
“Did that… Help?” He asks tentatively, his voice still rich and crackly as he transitions from his subvocal apparatus to regular speech.
“Mhm.” You nod, but you make no effort to separate yourself. Not yet. He doesn’t try to leave, either. He just holds you. Lets you pull yourself back together at your own speed
In stiff, jerky movements, you pull yourself out of his lap. He follows you at the pace you set, never moving too fast, always hovering nearby, just in case. You try not to scoff at him - you want to tell him that it’s not like you’re going to collapse, but considering what he’s seen in the past… Ten minutes? Twenty? It’d make sense if he thought you were going to.
“I’m, um.” What do you even say? You’re sorry? Thank him? What is the rulebook for dubious-consent-based pre-heat-meltdown-induced snuggling? “I’ll… See you tomorrow.”
Good enough.
“Yeah.” Abbot nods, his tone suspended in the same way a dog holds a wounded paw. “See you.”
You nod awkwardly. You move left at the same time he moves right, then vice versa, then you just force your way past him and beeline for the door, ready to pretend this whole wretched morning never happened.
“Let me know if you need that again.”
You pause, your hand resting on the doorknob.
”… What?”
Abbot looks caught for a moment, then coughs, clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck. His short sleeve lifts with the movement, catching on the bulge of his bicep. You privately thank whatever God is out there that your vocal chords are too shot to say anything about it.
“Yeah, just… Y’know. It gets overwhelming in here, especially when you’re - um.” There’s a pause that lasts the same length as the words in heat. “Yeah. So… If you need… Help,” his jaw ticks as he says the word, “then I can do that.”
You… Don’t know what to make of that. Part of you wants to shut him down entirely. There’s plenty of gender bias in medicine before bringing secondary genders into the equation, and you don’t want to be known as the resident playing packmates with your attending. On the other hand… You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so safe before. So protected. You can’t remember the last time all those base survival instincts - run, hide, get to safety - just washed away.
And that’s all it is, isn’t it? Just instinct. Soothing those old impulses left over from years of evolution. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
“Um. Yeah, maybe,” you say hurriedly. “I mean, I - today was a bad day, I don’t know if I’ll, um - like, if I do need it, I’ll ask, but I probably won’t, so don’t - don’t expect me to-“
“If you need it,” Abbot says firmly, his eyes locked on yours, “you’ll ask.”
Strong and steady. Everpresent. There to fix those who need it. Classic Abbot.
“Yeah,” you whisper, your voice suddenly lost to you. “Sure.”
You throw the door open and scurry through the hallway, clocking out and racing into the cool night air.
It’s just a precaution. That’s why he’s asking. Just in case. Because he’s Abbot, and he always wants everyone to be okay. If you need it, you’ll ask, but you won’t need it. Not because you’re not grateful, but because this was very much a one-time thing.
When you get home, you bury yourself in blankets, pillows, plushies. You even dig out an old sweatshirt an ex left and hold it under your nose the whole night. You put on one of your many type-A audio porn recordings and try to let the vibrations take you somewhere else… But after Abbot - after that closeness, that safety - you’re not sure they’ll ever satisfy you again.
i’ve never read a/b/o with the subvocalizations thing before but im obsessed and this is so perfect… the way he’s just a bit teasing and she’s so unwilling to accept help UGHH IM OBSESSED
also the kingdon mention??? and the way jack is looking for her and calling for her, not even knowing it’s her and just wanting to help whatever scared omega it is??? HNGGGH
౨ৎ — after you let it slip that the vibrator you just bought can’t get you off, bsf satoru gojo is more than happy to help || MDNI, smut. 1.6K words
inspo from this post by @blkkizzat. love her sexy brain.
there’s nothing quite as thrilling as having the man you told your exes not to worry about perched right between your legs.
you lie on your bed, naked from the waist down while your best friend sits fully clothed and examines your vibrator like he wishes he had a microscope to give him a better look.
he moves it from one hand to the next, the very picture of indifference when he switches it on.
satoru shakes his head when the toy quickly spurs to life and fills the room with it’s constant hum, “there’s no way wanted to throw this away,” he starts “seems perfectly fine to me.”
your eyes narrow the tiniest bit.
“well, you're not the one who has to use it.” you grouse defensively.
and maybe you were a little more pent up than you thought, because the image of him doing just that starts to take shape. the man practically lives in sweats, so you’ve caught the print of his dick more times than you’d ever care to admit.
and in your mind’s eye, you can picture him rubbing the vibrator against his tip then all the down the thick veiny length. white lashes fluttering and neck muscles bulging as the vibrations made him twitch in need—
cerulean eyes flicker to yours, and satoru smiles like he knows exactly what you're thinking. slow, full of teeth and boyishly sexy.
“you’re totally thinking about me using it, aren’t you?”
you forcibly expel the image away with a shake of your head.
“you wish,” you smack his arm a little too hard, and it has him groaning between a chuckle. ignoring the flush in your cheeks, you raise an eyebrow at him, “i still can't believe you offered to do this by the way.”
“i can’t believe you agreed,” he quips just as quickly and well…fair enough. because you couldn’t either.
satoru readjusts so he’s on his knees and dips his head, his eyes following the length of your body until they land right between your legs.
you watch them dilate until only a thin ring of blue remains, and the longer he stares, the more heat rushes south. cool air feathers over your cunt and the achy tease of it, coupled with the weight of his rapt attention, have your legs trying to close again.
satoru doesn't let you get far though. he grumbles his disapproval, freehand spanning over the plush flesh of your thigh and spreading you open again.
“don’t go shy on me now.”
your hips shift a little. “you’re staring.”
he huffs out a laugh, hand spasming over soft skin, “can you blame me?” he asks with a good helping of reverence and not a lick of denial in the question.
his eyes never stray away and fuck, you don’t even think he’s blinking.
“almost want to take my time with how pretty she is,” his chest rises with a deep inhale, like he’s trying to breathe you in. “wet too.”
one look at your face lets him know that you would walk out if he tried, and he has to stifle a grin.
“maybe next time,” he decides, and when he sees you about to tell him there won't be a “next time”, he lifts the vibrator and presses the tip of it against your clit.
and for someone who claimed it didn’t work, the effect it has on you is intense. your breath hitches, body bucking up, and he groans at the sight of your tits bouncing under your shirt.
he nearly dropped to his knees in anguish when you refused to take it off, but the way your nipples stiffen under the fabric almost makes it worth it.
“oh shit,” the moan draws his attention away from your chest, and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth at the fucked-out look on your face.
satoru drags the silicone toy along your slit, and while glittery wetness immediately drenches it, it’s not nearly enough.
so he rears back and draws his cheeks in. when his lips part, a fat blob of spit splatters onto your clit. your hips pitch and the mess drips all the way down to your ass.
satoru watches your head roll against your pillow. hair splaying out messily and eyes a little too glassy, “toru,”
“too pretty for your own good, ” he husks quietly. as if it was only meant for his ears.
he presses himself against your thigh. cock thick and hard as it strains under his jeans, and you clench around nothing. suddenly painfully empty.
with how easy it is for satoru to map your reactions, someone would think this wasn’t the first time the two of you were doing this. it's like he can sense what you need long before you do. so, when your lips part to beg him for something your mind can barely string together, he's already nudging the vibrator against your entrance and slowly pushing it inside.
he pumps it in and out of you in deep, teasingly slow strokes that make it impossible to bite back your moans.
they sound embarrassing to your ears. all too high some moments and wavering into soundless gasps in others, but satoru clearly doesn't share the sentiment. he grinds his cock against your thigh harder, and it pulses with each sound that pours out your mouth. he feels them wash over his back and light up the base of his spine in a white-hot beam.
“you’re so fucking hot,” the vibrator is turned up a couple notches, and you freeze when you feel it.
you’re close.
a broken gasp escapes, then you react how you always do.
you run from it.
panicked and restless when your hips shift back and each pulse has you squirming.
you only get far enough to make an inch of the dildo slip out before a hand curls around your waist and holds you in place.
“where are you going?” gojo tilts his head at you and you think his eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen them.
slowly, something clicks into place behind them, and a huff of laughter bubbles out.
“wait…don’t tell me you're a runner,” he's so tickled you're tempted to hit him again. but it's impossible to do anything but jerk when he plunges the toy to the hilt again. “well shit, baby, no wonder you thought it was broken.”
his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you would’ve found his wide grin cute if he didn't turn the intensity all the way up.
he lets the toy buzz inside of you and when you recoil, both hands grip your hips and swiftly tug you back.
“nuh uh, we can’t have you running away when you’re so close.”
“f-fuck, i can’t,” you whine. head shaking from side to side, and he coos.
“of course you can, pretty,” satoru drapes his body over yours, one burly thigh snug between your legs to keep the toy in place. and to keep grinding against your soft thighs.
“you’re doing so much better already,” he murmurs quietly, hips already moving against you. “just need me to hold you down and make you take it, hm?”
he phrases that like a question but slants his lips over yours to muffle your answer. satoru groans into your mouth, tongue swirling around yours and teeth sinking into your bottom lip.
your fingers twist into the sheets, clutching at them as if they would ground you. it proves useless because the filth coming out satoru’s mouth is clearly trying to leave you wrecked by the end of this.
“god, the sounds you make around fake cock,” he grunts against your jaw, hips shuttering for a moment before rutting harder. “should’ve—shit—just offered you the real thing.”
arousal pools around the vibrator to drip down onto the sheets below and it takes everything to keep your eyes from rolling backwards.
“oh my god,” you whimper, and he licks up the seam of your lips.
“be a good girl and stop holding back. let yourself feel it,” your hips roll upwards and his chest rumbles with a sound that doesn’t even sound human anymore. “yeah, there you go, fuck yourself on it.”
he was delirious. blabbering almost as much as you were, but at least he was halfway coherent. your limbs seal around him. legs coiling tight around his trim waist and hands sneaking under his shirt to scratch at his back.
your nails must dig in a little too deeply because a hiss is punctured against your lips. you draw back, scared you hurt him, and he shakes his head.
“do it again,” he pleads. palming your clothed tit. “like you mean it this time.”
a shocked huff leaves you, “jesus, you’re insane.”
the unhinged laugh that echoes through your room only proves your point, but you oblige. your nails rake over his muscled back, and the sound he makes makes your clit pulse.
“oh, c’mon baby harder,” you cut into skin, and he chokes. “ah—fuck yes!”
satoru doesn’t bother holding himself up anymore. he just lets all his weight bear down on you, basically trapping you under him.
he drops his head to the swell of your breast, and your back bows when he latches onto your nipple through your shirt, sucking it into his mouth and wetting the fabric.
“cum for me,” he hums against the peak when you tense under him.
you have a brief moment of panic when your breath gets stuck somewhere in your chest. it wracks with a broken sob, and even when you go limp with your release, the vibrations between your legs don’t stop.
satoru shudders not long after you. moaning between your breasts while his cum makes a mess of his briefs. it spurts onto material in thick pulses and you swear you feel it on your skin. warm, sticky and sleek.
he stays on you for a second longer, then lifts himself onto his elbows so he doesn’t accidentally smother you.
it’s only when he slides the vibrator out that air returns to your lungs. tension leaves your body and your spine loosens again.
your eyes flit over to him and they bulge when you see him raise the toy to his mouth. glossy lips wrapping around the silicone, as he sucks your arousal and cum off of it.
the slurping noise he makes while he keeps his eyes on yours has liquid heat building up in your belly again, so intense it’s like you didn’t cum seconds ago. he releases it from his mouth with a pop and grins widely.
“see? works perfectly.”
you had a total psycho for a best friend, and whatever craze that infected him had to be spreading. because when he parts your legs again, murmuring something about making you squirt with round two…
note: hi this is a scheduled post. period cramps currently have me on my ass but i’ll be back online as soon as i can. lmk if you saw any errors okay? okay.
ps: @rambld see what other best friends are doing? lock in.
“mph! ‘toru, please. . .” your legs shake with each slap to your cunt. satoru’s grinning from ear to ear, enjoying every little noise you make as his palm pats your pussy lightly. he’s going so slow—trying to get on your nerves by not allowing you to cum just yet.
“‘toru, please’,” satoru repeats your words in a high-pitched tone. he snickers at his own tease before planting a sweet kiss on the side of your chest, glazed over eyes still looking down at your cunt.
your juices are coating his slender fingers and it takes every ounce of his strength to not lick them off. to taste the sweetness.
the slow slaps and the time interval between them drove you to insanity. the pleasure comes and goes—it’s torturous. satoru pouts as you pout, mirroring your actions with a shit-eating grin, “patience, sweetheart. just a few more, i promise. i’ll fuck you reaaal good afterwards.”
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ˬ
does it when you least expect it, because that man loves to catch you off guard.
he can be gentle or rough about it—depends on his mood. if he’s in a good mood, the little slaps are meant to stimulate your clit for your own satisfaction. if he’s in a shit mood, the firm slaps are meant as punishment.
tags \\ cws. p in v. doggy style. condescending tones. nicknames used ‘princess’
“what now, princess?” suguru murmurs right into your ear. his chest is pressed against your back, one hand slithering down your waist to hip and between your legs. you’re whining, unlike before, when you had the audacity to hold back your moans and act like you didn’t like what he was doing.
“where’d that attitude go, hm?” suguru grunts, clicking his tongue.
you’re bratty today, but he has the solution to fix that. he pulls his hard cock out of your pulsating cunt and leaves you empty. the tips of his fingers glide over your labia instead. you try to grind back against his digits, though was met by a harsh slap instead.
your body jolts at the unexpected slap. not a moment goes by and a second one hits your pussy lips firmly. your moans are muffled by the pillow you’re biting into.
suguru sees you struggle to keep your moans to yourself and chuckles deeply. his jaw clenches and his hand lands harshly on your puffy cunt once more, “keep that attitude up and i’m not stopping until you’re screaming for mercy.”
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 ˬ
does it gently, but is so so nasty about it. wouldn’t be surprised if you came just from him slapping your cunt a couple times.
loves to do it when you have your panties still on. that way he can see your wetness through the fabric.
“now now, love,” kento kisses the side of your neck gently, urging you to stay still. your back is against his chest and your legs are spread with your skirt flipped up. it’s an embarrassing situation—especially because you’re in his office with your lace panties on display.
the wet spot on the fabric only grows bigger and bigger with each gentle tap of your lover’s palm. kento’s slaps are painfully soft. he knows that it’s agonising for you, but it’s a complete turn-on for him, “you’re doing so well. getting so wet and ready for my cock, mm?”
your eyes roll back from the combination of dirty talk and praise. kento chuckles, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. his fingers come in contact with your clothed clit and it makes you squirm. each little slap made you needier. kento drags his fingers up and down your pussy before slapping it again through your panties;
“if you stay still for me, i promise i’ll give you what you want, okay, angel? for me?”
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ˬ
is pretty harsh when doing it. might use his cock to do so too.
loves to do it when he’s eating you out—gives a couple slaps in between, here and there. right on your clit too.
tags \\ cws. cunnilingus. degradation. reader gets called ‘little girl’.
“nasty fuckin’ pussy. look at her,” toji scoffs once he pulls his mouth away from your messy cunt. he’s been lapping up your juices for a couple minutes now, the clear fluid smeared all around his lips.
the tip of his tongue drags up and down your slit—tracing circles around your clit. your hands grab onto toji’s black hair, gaining a deep grunt from him. he lifts his hand and slaps your pussy in response, “hands to yrself, little girl.”
you want to comply, but the extra stimulation your body got from that slap only urges you to grip his hair tighter. toji curses under his breath, removes his head from between your thighs and makes it seem like he’s finally going to fuck you—his leaking tip suddenly placed right at your entrance.
well, you guessed wrong. toji’s veiny hand wraps around the base of his cock, only to slap it down on your sensitive clit. you moan at the contact and he answers by doing it again, “hah. thought i was gonna fuck you? nah, ‘m not doing any of that until ya know y’r place.”
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ˬ
makes it nasty by spitting on your cunt before slapping it. loves to see the mess the fluids form on your pussy lips.
has you counting the slaps probably too. if you lose count or get it wrong, he’s starting over.
does it again and again until you’re in absolute tears.
tags \\ cws. true form!sukuna. over-protectiveness. mention of murder. dacryphilia. spit. reader gets called ‘brat’
“what’d i tell you about hanging around with that lowlife?” sukuna grumbles, clearly pissed off. he spits on your cunt that laid open before him. he’d ordered you to wait for him on his bed with your legs spread while he took care of some ‘business’. which was killing that man who dared to speak with you.
“fuckin’ brat. you never listen,” sukuna continues.
two of his hands hold your thighs in place, another one rubs his spit all over your aching pussy. he delivers a firm slap to your cunt once it’s coated in his saliva. you whine and whimper, but the king of curses could not care less.
you know what you should do; accept and count the amount of slaps. you do exactly that, though the harsh slaps are too overstimulating for your poor pussy, causing you to sob. sukuna’s eyes have a dangerous and sadistic look in them—clearly enjoying your tears and suffering.
the sounds of your wet flesh getting slapped repeatedly echoes throughout the room. your tears, whines and bodily reactions drive sukuna absolutely insane. he breathes heavily and stops the slaps, “on all fours. now. i’m not repeating myself.”
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ simon walked through the door already tugging at his uniform, kicking off his boots. he had probably one of the worse days he’s had in a long time and all he wanted to do was see his beautiful wife.
the two of you had been married a long time, no doubt inlove. but seeing your face everyday after work, it was like his love for you left and came back at first sight.
and don’t let anyone bring up food, your cooking was a taste that might’ve aswell put him to sleep like a newborn baby. you’re his wife in every lifetime.
and boy did he remind you of it.
while still stripping off his clothes he walked to the kicthen, stopping in the doorway. there you were, his beautiful wife cooking at the stove in a navy blue apron saying wifey. the matching ones you both got as a wedding gift. though something was off, oh yeah your clothes.
you stood in that apron and only that apron, he could see the tie behind you threatening to burst as the plump of your ass, your thin nipples peaking through the front like an added decoration.
“all f’me?” he came up behind you, hands slipping under the open back to hold your bare hips. you jumped before giggling, “didn’t think you’d be back yet, wanted to surprise you with your favourite.”
“you’re my favourite meal swee’heart.” he hummed, putting his head on your shoulder as he watched your slender fingers stir the food.
his fingers danced around, the access from no undergarments was like a reward — only until you swatted his hands away and said profusely “not before dinner!”
he gave you an unimpressed look, tugging your hips back. “food’ll take long, we have enough time.” you held a hand up, shooing him away.
fine, see how you’ll like it.
he walked away, not being giving you a smack on the ass to get undressed into his classic — wife beater and grey sweatpants.
dinner was amazing, as usual. by the end of it though, something was off — your clothes!
simon bent you over the counter just as you turned to leave the kicthen, tugging at the tie of the apron. “damn tease, you like teasing your husband, huh?” you tried to squirm away, contesting how you needed to do the dishes but one smack to your cunt? you’re as silent as a mouse.
“all this complaining .. but you’re dripping for me love — you can’t resist your husband.” two thing digits plunge into you, knuckle deep making you gasp everytime even when you were so familiar with it.
“you love me, yeah? show me.” you arched against the counter, body moving on its own. back and forth, back and forth. god how easy you were for your husband.
after a few orgasms at the counter from his fingers, your complains about the fact you’d both have to eat there after were getting loud.
so he picks you up, not bothering to go upstairs — too much time and effort and went to the stairs. you were on your hands and knees on two different steps, perfect level for him.
you watch from over your shoulder as he pumps his cock, pre-cum dried around his mushroom head. you couldn’t help but whine, the sight turning you on. “such a slut, huh?” he positions himself, one leg up on the step beside your head, your opposite leg lifted up to his hips as he thrust in you at an ungodly speed.
his “slow” pace wasn’t your slow and it showed.
so you fucked, different positions not leaving the staircase — easy clean and easy positions, is what he said after your shared bath which led to more rounds.
simon can be an ass, but he’s your ass and you wouldn’t change that for anything.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖
my first fanfic, dont judge !!
also my first time writing smut, i hope it’s not sounding stiff 😑
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c/w: fingering, edging word count: 500+ a/n: for my angel @tojiskutie who suggested this, ps sorry its been a hot minute since I posted
Your make up was ruined, mascara running down your damp cheeks. “Please, ‘Gumi.” You whined, bucking your hips up, “I need you so bad.”
He only sighed, leaning further back into the chair he’d placed at the foot of the bed. “I told you, I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks, and you have to learn how to do it yourself.”
You threw your head back in frustration, “I can’t,” you pouted, “it only feels good when you do it.”
He was silent as he took in the sight of you, your naked body splayed across your shared bed, one of your small hands buried between your thighs, your fingers mindlessly rubbing your swollen clit. “Try one more time for me, hm?”
You nodded and let your eyes fall shut as you tried to focus on the feeling. When you finally felt the pleasure building up in your stomach, your opened your eyes, looking into Megumi’s, hoping it would finally push you over the edge.
A sob escaped you as you failed to reach your peak once again, “Please,” your brows were pulled together in a frown, “you’re being so mean. Please, ‘Gumi, please.”
“Come here,” he beckoned you towards him with his fingers. You were quick to make your way into his lap, his legs spread to accommodate your body that was now slotted between them, your back against his chest. Megumi grabbed your thighs, hooking your legs over his, spreading them apart to open you up for him.
He let go of your legs, wrapping an arm around your bare waist to hold you in place while the other hand slipped between your thighs to where you needed him most. A gasp left you as he finally thrusted two of his long fingers into your aching cunt.
You tried to arch your back when his fingers curled, finally hitting that gummy spot inside you, but his arm held you in place. While his fingers were buried knuckle deep inside of you, he used his calloused thumb to rub calculated circles on your throbbing clit. Your head fell back against his shoulder as you moaned his name.
“Feel good?” His voice was low and deep in your ear. You could only nod, babbling incoherently. “Aw, is someone’s head feeling all fuzzy?”
Again, you were only able to muster a nod in response, your heart beating quickly in your chest. “Need to cum.” You were breathless as your spoke.
“I know, but have you earnt it?” You nodded, muttering that you did. But Megumi shook his head, tutting, “No. You didn’t do as I said, did you?”
“Please,” you cried, “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good.”
He stayed silent but kept his fingers moving inside of you until you were right on the brink of an orgasm, the muscles in your body going taut. Then suddenly he stopped, his fingers stilling inside you.
“Wha-“
Megumi interrupted you, “I gave you a chance to cum, and you couldn’t do it. So now, you’re gonna have to wait till I get back from my trip.” He pulled his fingers from you and brought hem to his mouth, licking them clean, humming at the taste. “If you’ve figured it out by then, maybe I’ll reward you.”
"Shut that fuckin' mouth for once, Jesus." Price huffed, stuffing your own panties in your mouth. "Christ, be quiet."
You sob into the gag, thrashing against Price's hold. Price just sighs, like you're being an inconvenience.
"Stop fuckin' strugglin', kid." Price grumbles, forcing you down onto his bed face-first. You kick and wail into the gag. "I said stop, bitch. I'll fuckin' break your neck, got it?"
You freeze. Price makes a pleased sound, his huge palms spreading your ass cheeks. You expect him to go for your pussy. But Price doesn't.
His thumb rubs over your asshole. You gasp, looking over your shoulder with wide eyes. You whimper softly into the gag, confusion etched across your tear-stained face.
"What?" Price taunts, pressing his index finger into your ass. "This hole's gonna be much tighter than your slutty cunt."
Price stretches you out quickly. He goes from one to three fingers in what feels like the blink of an eye. Before you know it, he's lubing up his cock and notching the head of it in your ass.
You know it's a small mercy that Price even used lube.
"Oh, fuck yes." Price groans, "Tight as a fuckin' virgin."
You sob weakly into the gag in your mouth. It hurts. It fucking burns. Yet, your clit still throbs.
Each thrust drags and pulls, forcing pained whines from your throat.
"Christ, your cunt's wet. You're a fuckin' whore, gettin' off on this. Pathetic." Price scoffs, his fingers briefly feeling your wet pussy.
It doesn't take long for Price to still inside of you, hips stuttering as he came. You felt strange. Warm, deep within you. Unimaginably full, too.
Price pulled out roughly, making you sob again. With a soft pat on your head, Price says, "You're fuckin' lucky I took ya first, kiddo."
You squealed loudly as you came again. Ghost's teeth were buried in your shoulder, leaving dark bruises.
"That's it, come for me again." Ghost growls into your skin, thrusts not slowing or ceasing.
Your whole body's covered in bruises. Teeth marks cover your neck, collarbone, and your shoulders.
There are handprints on your inner thighs, deep nail marks in the wake on his touch.
Your throat his hoarse and sore from all the screaming you've been doing.
Ghost doesn't let up. Not when you're sobbing and not when you're squealing. He doesn't care that his cruel hands have left your nipples inflamed and raw.
Ghost doesn't care that your clit hurts. All he cares about is making you cum again.
"C'mon, pretty girl, you can do it." Ghost groans, hand resting on your bare, delicate throat. "Cum for me. Just a couple more."
"I can't!" You sob.
"You can, and you fuckin' will." Ghost hisses, his free hand coming down hard on your ass. When you cry out, Ghost spanks your clit.
He revels in how tight you get around him and the sweet, sweet screech you let out.
"Yeah, that's it. Fuckin' scream for me." Ghost groans, hips stuttering. His harsh hands grow rougher the closer he gets.
You're forced to cum another three times, practically within seconds of each other.
You sob in relief when Ghost fills your pussy with his cum.
You know you'll feel this for days. You don't mind.
It started that morning — Rafe waking you up with lazy kisses on your neck, his hand sneaking under your oversized t-shirt, palming between your legs with a sleepy, possessive groan. He didn’t even make you come. Just got you soaked and aching, then whispered,
"Be good for me today, angel. Save it for me."
And like the obedient girl you were, you did.
All day, you followed him around like a shadow — sitting at his feet while he played poker with his boys, fetching him drinks when he barely nodded at you, your thighs pressed tight together, desperate for friction you weren’t allowed to have. Rafe didn’t even have to say much. Just those dark eyes on you, that slow, knowing smile, kept you compliant and messy, nerves wound so tight you thought you'd snap if he even breathed on you too hard.
By the time he dragged you into the bedroom, you were already crying — overwhelmed, overstimulated without even being touched properly.
Rafe chuckled under his breath, looking you over like you were a present he couldn't wait to rip open. "You been cryin' all day for me, huh?" he murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers. You nodded, tears spilling over, bottom lip trembling.
"So fuckin' pretty when you cry," he muttered, right before he kissed you — hard, bruising, like he was starving for you.
You whimpered into his mouth, pliant, soft, letting him do whatever he wanted.
You always did.
He didn’t waste time. He shoved you onto the bed, climbed on after you, big hands pushing your legs apart with rough, greedy palms.
You could barely hold your own wrists behind your back when he barked a low, "Hands, now." But you did it anyway — the need to please him burning hotter than anything else inside you.
Rafe groaned, one hand locking your wrists together, the other grabbing his cock and lining it up with your dripping entrance. "Been savin' this sweet little pussy for me all day, huh?" he rasped. "Good girl. Best fuckin' girl in the world."
You sobbed at the praise, arching your back instinctively, offering yourself up.
The first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs — brutal, unrelenting — and your whole body jerked forward.
Rafe didn’t let up. Pounded into you with filthy, relentless strokes, keeping your arms trapped behind your back so you couldn’t do anything but take it.
"That's it, baby," he panted against your ear, voice thick with need. "You cry all you want. Still gonna be my good girl, aren't you?"
"M-mhm," you gasped, tears soaking the sheets beneath you.
"My fuckin’ angel," he groaned, biting down on your shoulder, driving into you harder, deeper. "Nobody better than you. Nobody."
ꮼ heian!sukuna fucking the sanctity of marriage into his pretty wife.
ᦸ he's big ⸝⸝ p in v ⸝⸝ cervix kissing ⸝⸝ rough sex ⸝⸝ creampie ⸝⸝ req ⸝⸝ not proof read ⸝⸝ art by hunnismokah
You knew you were fucked the moment you uttered "my lord" in the presence of your husband.
The unfortunate habit you'd carried into the marriage from the days of being one of Sukuna's many concubines—when the thought of him choosing to marry one was purely blasphemous.
One that you deeply regretted the moment your beloved husband dragged you back to your shared chambers, already grumbling about how he's talked about this before—many times.
Though that regret quickly subsided the moment that sweet sting of him sinking each thick inch of his length into you came.
"I've told you multiple times. It's—fuck—Sukuna, or Ryomen. No lord, master, or king of curses bullshit." He hissed out, a particularly mean thrust bringing his angry tip to prod against your cervix.
Ryomen's mouth buzzed against your throat—leaving biting kisses on your flesh as your cunt tightened perfectly around him, it felt like a pitiful attempt at milking him.
"M' sorry, baby, it won't happen again, I promise." You whined helplessly into his ear, very aware of the way your hips were bucking up against his with the cruel pace he maintained, "Was jus' an accident."
Your nails instinctively curled against the hardened muscles of his lower back as he gripped your hips, tugging them flush against his.
It took everything in him not to grin at your gasp—or the way your walls fluttered around him.
"Yeah, I'm sure; you've used the same excuse for months," he rasped, dragging his hips in a slow circle. "Remember it this time—" He paused, drawing his hips back with a glint in his eye. "—It's your husband fucking you like this."
Before you could even fully process his words, he was already setting a new ruthless pace, pistoning his cock in-and-out in a way that felt like your body was levitating rather than being pinned by him.
"C'mon pretty, who is it fucking you s'good?" He purred in your ear, nipping slowly at your earlobe.
"My—ngh—my husband?" You forced out, eyes fluttering at the familiar heat of your lower stomach coiling itself up, ready to give any second.
"There's my good girl. You got it right for once." He mused, pressing a single hot open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Do you think you deserve a reward? Hmm?"
"Yes. Yes, I did good. I deserve a reward, Ryo." Your quick answer made his cruel thrusts slow enough to give you both more comprehensive pleasure.
"Oh? Baby wants her treat, huh? Well... who am I to say no?"
With one final, deep thrust, he came. Pouring deep in your thoroughly fucked-out cunt, white-hot pleasure ripping through you both, the mutual orgasms feeling heavenly.
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꒰ ℬ𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 :: hi everyone !! this is part 2 of my recommendations !! part 1 was getting a little too long so i decided to split these two posts up. this included the non-jjk fics that i reblogged, though there are a few jjk ones in this as well because i forgot them last time >.< make sure to check all these wonderful writers out !! sorry if you were tagged in the first part !! one more of these will be coming out soon with all the fanart i had reblogged !!꒱
꒰ 𝒟𝐂 𝒞𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒 :: ꒱
cockwarming with clark kent | @fear-is-truth
cowboy clark kent | @pittsick
soft clark headcannons | @dcorensupez
something like a 'yes' - clark kent | @iipxilf
anal with clark | @aurelissima
clark and his shy girl | @luveline
quiet mornings in smallville | @borderlineex
perfect night - bruce wayne | @mooncleaver
man on willpower - bruce wayne | @murdock-slvt
older bf!bruce wayne | @pluvoia
bruce wayne and his needy wife | @dollyivy
tired older!bruce wayne | @/dollyivy
bruce wayne and crybaby!reader | @/honey-bees-and-snails
dick grayson and his loser girl | @babyurlovebitten
jason's girl is quiet during sex | @spoookyraccoon
gamer boyfriend jason todd | @patientofarkhamasylum
you try to take red hood’s helmet off during sex | @stamor
acts of service - jason todd | @maid4love
tall jason todd | @wingfleur
hot things jason todd does | @orchidsarchives
jason can't just kiss you once | @honey-bees-and-snails
batboys getting a blowjob from shy!reader | @redr0sewrites
batfam x crybaby!partner | @latedeparture
switching positions for you - multi | @sweetlikespresso
need - multi | @froggibus
need part 2 - multi | @/froggibus
꒰ ℒ𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝒟𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 :: ꒱
xavier is really in control | @3ardnpc
bf!xavier is jealous of caleb | @/3ardnpc
cockwarming xavier | @nightplvmes
your light - xavier | @pockyncoffee
roommate xavier | @colonelkaboom
xavier watches you while you put on make up | @bronzealchemy
asmr boyfriend xavier | @luvinbloom
mornings with xavier | @v3nu5asab0y
using your safeword with sylus | @sugarplumpearl
sleepy sylus | @catcze
roommate sylus | @/colonelkaboom
puppy coded!caleb | @rokiibrok
caleb teaching you how to kiss | @swanlikely
little comforts with the lads li’s | @loveandpeaceanddoughnuts
love & deepspace men when you’re on your period | @syncaleb
pink matter - soft sex with the lads li's | @princessxmin
pleasure bot lads li's | @spacekittiesmeow - i gen love this one soooo much i reread it often
꒰ 𝒞𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝒟𝐔𝐓𝐘 :: ꒱
sick!soap | @codbeforeu
sheepdog hybrid!soap x lamb!reader | @/dvg-tvgs
being hybrid!tf141's little bunny secretary | @citrusandsage
the fox and the farm dogs masterlist | @/dvg-tvgs
bartender!reader x tf141 | @ohclaire
simon riley's autistic wife | @dvg-tvgs - my go to cod fanfic writer
simon at christmas time | @guppybibi
lsg!simon x sheep!reader | @keeiv
puppy hybrid! rookie reader x lt ghost | @sheepispink
johnny has a pretty neighbor. simon scares said neighbour | @yenhan
tf 141 with newbie! reader who's got the hots for them | @kill3ill
cod men x virgin!reader | @bumblebee5514
cod men x sick!reader | @pluiexx
꒰ ℐ𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐔 𝓚𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 :: ꒱
gojo makes his shy girl ask for it | @sweetieelilii
scissoring with bimbo!reader and roomie!shoko | @heaveninruins
reader who can’t stop humping her older bf toji | @qoins
the jjk men with a shy girlfriend in bed | @himelaces
꒰ ℳ𝐈𝐒𝐂 :: ꒱
resident evil men x selective mute!reader | @sadgirlnamedmaria - selective mutism rep yayyyy
you have me, yeah? - leon kennedy | @blythedolly
art donaldson x clingy!reader | @tearsandtechno
dante sparda in a rut | @strawberrystepmom
dante sparda x closed off!reader | @dissolved-g1rl
dante sparda x sick!reader | @/dissolved-g1rl
making out with nero sparda | @noctunis
arthur morgan is a sentimental lover | @threadbearsweater
matt murdock teaching you boxing | @starlord3000
the little things they do for you that just make you fold | @reaperexe
domestic dominance headcanons I can’t stop thinking about | @/reaperexe
gentle dominant things they do when you argue | @/reaperexe
soft dominant things they do that just make you melt | @/reaperexe
he’s clingy when you ride him | @kissbabie
praise me | @sytorusdoll
love ur writing! could you do vibrator play with rafe??
"c'mon, baby, keep 'em open for me."
rafe was stretched out at the end of the bed, shirtless, his strong arms keeping your legs spread as he pressed the vibrator against your soaked cunt.
your back arched as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you, your fingers gripping the sheets in a weak attempt to ground yourself. but rafe? he was relaxed, propped up on one elbow, eyes flicking between your flushed face and where the toy was pressed against your clit.
he turned the setting up a notch.
"fuck—" you gasped, thighs trembling against his hold.
his smirk deepened. "s’too much already?" he cooed, tilting his head. "thought you said you could take it, sweetheart."
"i can—" you sucked in a breath, every nerve in your body on fire. "i am—"
"yeah?" he pressed the vibrator harder against you, watching with dark amusement as your body jerked. "then why you squirming so much?"
your hands flew to his wrist, but you both knew you weren’t strong enough to push him away. not that you even wanted to, because fuck, the way the vibrations sent wave after wave of pleasure through you had your mind going completely blank.
rafe chuckled, moving the toy just enough to tease. "feels good, huh?"
all you could do was nod, whimpering when he finally let the vibrations hit your clit again, pushing you right to the edge.
he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. "better hold on, baby."
and then he cranked it up to the highest setting.
you were shaking.
your back arched off the bed, fingers clutching the sheets so hard it felt like you might tear them, but rafe didn't let up. if anything, your reactions only made him worse.
"look at you," he murmured, pressing the vibrator even harder against your swollen clit. "so fuckin' needy. you were beggin’ for this, weren’t you?"
you tried to shake your head, tried to deny it, but the way your body betrayed you said otherwise.
rafe just chuckled, shifting so he was fully between your legs, keeping you completely at his mercy. his free hand trailed up your stomach, brushing over your heaving chest before wrapping lightly around your throat.
"words, baby," he coaxed, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. "or do i have to turn this off and leave you all worked up?"
"no!" you gasped, eyes snapping open to meet his. "please, rafe—"
"please, rafe what?" he mocked, tilting his head like he wasn’t absolutely wrecking you right now. "i told you, baby. you gotta tell me exactly what you want."
your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the pleasure was far too overwhelming for you to care.
"want to cum," you finally admitted, voice soft and desperate. "need to, rafe,"
his smirk deepened. "atta girl."
and then he really started playing with you.
he tilted the vibrator, dragging it in slow circles around your clit before pressing it directly against your entrance, teasing you, watching you lose your mind under him.
your hips bucked against it, trying to get more, but rafe was in charge here.
"nah, baby," he tutted. "you take what i give you."
your whole body jerked as you let out a strangled moan, hands flying to grip his biceps, nails digging into his skin.
"fuck, rafe, please—"
"please what, sweetheart?" he mused, lips grazing your jaw as he kept up his torture. "wanna cum for me?"
"yes, yes"
he grinned against your skin, watching your body tremble beneath him.
"then cum, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple as his fingers tightened around your throat. "cum nice and hard for me."
and just like that, you shattered.
@ rafesbows
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