Aurelius

Well, he doesn't do aftercare for himself. John has the decency to wipe you off and make sure you're okay, you wouldn't keep coming back to him otherwise, but when you try to look after him? Complete shut down.

"C'mon, sir, let me take care of you—" you beg for the third time, giving price your best pleading eyes. You run your hand over the hair on his chest, one leg hooked over his waist in that way you know he secretly likes.

"I'm fine." He grunts, shutting down already. Tensing up, about to push you off and escape like he always does when you lean foreward.

"Awww, no fun, sir. At least a kiss?" You pout, holding his jaw and pressing your lips to his. The faint taste of smoke and whisky on his tongue, mixed with the flavor of you.

Price jolts suddenly, pulls back, eyes narrowed "what the hell did i just swallow?"

Your delighted smile is the last thing price sses.

....only to wake up...still in bed? But, no, the sheets have been changed, and price feels different. Mouth minty, teeth brushed when he runs his tongue over them. He smells clean, too, as if he took a shower. Not to mention how for once his knees don't ache to the core.

He narrows his eyes at the ceiling. His wrists are cuffed to the bed.

...there's a weight on his chest, fingers curling into the hair between pecs.

"Glad you're awake, sir. Have some soup cooling off for you." Your voice drifts up.

Really, price should have expected it. That the one person willing to sleep with him consistently is also willing to fucking drug him for the sole purpose of aftercare.

I remember being there. Hating the gender you belong to is exhausting. It’s worth deconstructing I promise, even just for your wellbeing. Here’s a start:

Manhood isn’t inherently tied to misogyny and violence. Misogyny and violence are choices. Just choices that men are disproportionately conditioned into making. Men can and do rewrite that conditioning all the time. Manhood isn’t the problem. The problems are misogyny and violence. You’re not a bad feminist because you let go of the hate you have for the manness of yourself. Your manness doesn’t make you violent or misogynistic, being violent and misogynistic make you violent and misogynistic make you violent and misogynistic. Testosterone HRT doesn’t turn you into the archetype of male violence. Testosterone isn’t the driving force of misogyny and violence. Do you understand what I’m saying? Misogyny and violence are not inherent and inescapable to anyone, regardless of identity. Being a man doesn’t make you evil.

Treating misogyny and violence as inherent to manhood excuses men for being violent and misogynistic. Accountability is real hard when you consider doing bad things a fundamental nature tied to an identity. If men are sexist, can you blame this man for being sexist? That’s just how men are. Do you see how this is boys will be boys hidden behind a couple layers of pseudo feminism?

I spent years dancing around manhood because I believed the second I labeled myself a man I was the enemy. The number of ways I found to describe my masculine identity that weren’t man. The number of times hearing ‘at least you’re not a man’ set me back. The number of times I came so close to manhood, but ran into an explicitly trans inclusive ‘I hate men’.

I think the best word for how manhood feels to me is settled. Being a man feels like home. Masculinity feels so gentle, in a big ol’ teddy bear sort of way. Growing a beard and letting your little cousin stick flowers in it. Making sure none of my students think it’s okay to make fun of the kid who cries a lot. Answering ‘boys don’t cry’ with ‘I’m a boy, and I cry every single time a dog in a movie is sad’. I want to be so kind. I want to be the man someone chooses to start working on their dog’s fear of men with. I want to be trusted to watch a drink and to walk with people to their cars at night. I want them to find a cure for cat allergies so I can get that patting-tiny-animal-with-hairy-hands gender euphoria without eye irritation. Cardigans and top surgery scars. Wrinkled hands injecting testosterone. My dream life closes on sweet if eccentric old man.

He's never had a mate during hibernation, and as a result his instincts are screaming at him to prepare you for the colder harsh winters as well. Price spends more time in the kitchen than out, meal prepping and planning dishes for the both of you.

"You did this to me, john..." you groan, crawling into bed, slow and lethargic, one hand cradling your stomach. "I'm going to die...and you did this...."

"I told you not to eat so much, runt." Two large hands scoop you up into prices lap, tugging you closer while you whine. "Yer not made for it, hm? Too full now."

Price presses against your bloated stomach teasingly, only for you two whine and turn, tucking your face into his neck. That earns you more coos, more amused at your predicament than apologetic. price leaning back so you can properly lie on him "shhh, it's okay cub. I'm sorry for teasing."

He doesn't mind when you keen and knead at the fat of his chest or belly, your own discomfort turning you into a needy cuddle bug. Price is warm and soft and you can almost forget how you'll throw up if someone presses too hard on your tummy right now.

It's something you and every omega is trained to handle, yearning for a nest and fighting off instincts during prolonged stress. Usually it's fine, nothing you can't handle, but something about this op has your hands constantly shaking and every small thing setting you off.

Were it not for the blockers price is sure your sour scent would be enough to set off any alpha.

"Alright, c'mon runt, that's enough." Price grunts when you pace the length of the safehouse for the tenth time without sitting to rest. He gently grabs the back of your neck, thumb brushing over the blockers and against your gland soothingly "lets get you settled, hm?"

"What? No, sir, it's fine–" you try to assure your pack leader, but the warm scent he pushes off has your own instincts melting at the prospect of something that smells so similar to your nest.

"No, runt. Yer pacin' is throwing off the others. No need to act all big, it's only natural." He attempts to soothe, forcing you to the one semi-decent couches in the house. You notice the other's jackets are piled on it, no doubt the best approximation of nesting materials price could think of. "Alright, you know what to do."

Which is how price ends up smothered under purring omega, with your face shoved into his neck and little claws kneading his chest and arms.

Not only are you surrounded by the scent of your pack, you're also surrounded by softness.

It makes your instincts delighted, all that stress you've been keeping pent up melting away until you pass out on top of your pack beta.

beat the shit out of each other in an empty parking lot at 2 am (in a sexual way)

play any car racing game for 8hrs straight, eat instant noodles and fall asleep tangled on a couch together

become a priest and fuck his throat in a confessional

go swimming at midnight, try to drown each other - great for bonding if you end up saving his life (learn first aid beforehand)

run away together, become cowboys

sneak into a medieval castle and fight for dominance with big ass swords (the winner gets to fuck the loser with his sword) (the actual, metal, covered in warm blood sword)

I just did it for the first time today and oh my god. It does make my hips less obvious, when I raise my arms and my shirt lifts, my belt is visible, I don't need to wear cropped shirts for that, I got plenty of room for my imaginary dick, my belt isn't digging in my stomach when I sit down.

You're enamoured with the guy, or at least the idea of him. Following ghost around with stars in your eyes. It's obvious by the way people eye you two in the halls that the expect him to snap in anger eventually.

They don't know just how amusing you are to ghost.

"Mmghh– fuckin' perfect, runt." Ghost groans, cum spilling onto the floor, a few strands hitting his boots. You kneel obediently in front of him, a load already drying uncomfortably on your clothes, the same ones you'll have to walk through base in to change out of.

You never complain, even beg for more on good days. In your eyes ghost can do no wrong to you. Just the thought of how he could make you do whatever he wants has his cock throbbing again.

Ghost gives you a bored look, nodding down to the cum on his boots. "c'mon runt, clean it."

You only hesitate for a second, though ghost savors watching you fall deeper into the depravity he asks of you. Salt and dirt cover your tongue on the first lick. The weather has been aris all week, leaving the dirt of the base loose and dry, dusting a fine layer over shoes and cars.

"All of it, sergeant. Don't want you leaving a job half-done. Dirt too." Ghost languidly strokes himself, watching such a promising little sergeant lick every seam and crease of leather just because he's the ghost. Doubts he could get it up again, would love to paint your hair too if he could. "Passed all those courses just to be nothing more than a cum rag. Feel worth it, runt?"

When you're done, ghost doesn't even need to kick your face against the floor for you to move onto the small pool on the floor with a grimace.

Leon Kennedy x ftm reader. Man is just eating you out like he’s starved and dehydrated. As always, this is 18+ not meant for minors! Eh, hope this is good. Dick and entrance are used in this… uhh squirting. Yeah.

“Eyes on me, don’t look away, darlin’” Leon grumbled, his words muffled by the hot flesh between your thighs as he lavishly lapped and sucked on.

You were sprawled out on the table, legs spread wide open with Leon in between them. You whined and cried softly, attempting to not look away from the man pleasuring you but also the man who’s denying you an orgasm.

Leon gave special attention to your throbbing dick; licking it, sucking on it, even giving soft nibbles that sent shockwaves all over your body. His tongue would lap around your entrance, drinking the essences between moving further down to tease your tight asshole — rimming the ring of muscles before moving back to your entrance and dick. His slight stubble rubbing against the skin of your thighs and dick, adding a fuzzy feeling.

“Please… let me cum… wanna cum…” You cried softly, begging Leon to give you the sweet release you’ve been craving — aching — for! The man had already ruined two previous orgasms by pulling away. You could see the evil, satisfying grin on his face before he dived back into your thigh to continue his attacks.

Leon didn’t respond as he was too focused on your dick. Nibbling and sucking on the swollen thing. “Should I?” Using the essences your entrance produced, Leon lathered his fingers with the substance and slid them into your tight ass.

You cried and screamed in pleasure, thrusting your hips into Leon’s face and rolling them in his face. The man grunts as he grounds your hips, wrapping his one of muscular arms around your waist and yanking you closer to him. “H-holy shit… oh god…” you were starting to feel dizzy, your head spinning with thoughts that you couldn’t comprehend. Your toes curled up, thighs squeezing Leon’s head, fingers digging into the wooden desk.

“L-Leon…” You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. All you could was tremble and moan as the older man hit all of your pressure points. His fingers stretch your ass opened, his attention then moving to your entrance while his thumb squeezed and rubbed your swollen dick.

Leon wasn’t going to give up until his boyfriend was crying and shaking from his ministrations. The older man was lost in the sauce, ignoring his throbbing cock as he sped his movement. The tacky, wet sounds of your holes filled the room. The familiar tension returned; the tingling sensation in your stomach began. The older man was determined to bring you to a full orgasm.

“G-gonna cum…” you whined. Your back arching and hands finding Leon’s head, digging your nails into the man’s scalp. You turned away for just a second, but the older man didn’t care. He wants to taste you, see you collapse into a mess, hear you scream his name as you cum for him.

Leon grew relentless. Not stopping for one bit. The pleasure so good, so intense that it hurts, burning hot, but Leon refuses to let you go. The older man could feel your entrance spasming and clenching… your asshole clenching around his fingers…

Shaking and spasming, you let out one last scream — screaming Leon’s name. Crying his name with every breathe as the words devolved into short babbles and cries. The world turned white as the rushing feeling finally released — pent up after being edged for hours. Your holes pulsing as stream after stream shooting obscenely out of your entrance, soaking Leon. The older man didn’t pull back but latched his mouth, wanting every drop of you.

You choked, withered, and groaned, relieved that it was over… sadly. The corners of your eyes blurred, tears welding in your eyes as you collapsed against the hard surface. You couldn’t breathe, it was too powerful. The world then went dark.

“Hey, you alright?” Leon asked after a couple of minutes. There was no response from you as he got up from his position. You had passed out. The older man felt pride swell in his mind, knowing that he brought you to such an orgasm. No one else, not another man could bring you to an orgasm like that.

He loves his boyfriend.