#tag: afab character

[mysticdoodlez]

interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Watcher Noah Sebastian x oc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/n: so up to around chapter six, I was up in the air over whether Taylor would a) start a relationship, and b) go with Nick or Noah. The interlude was bare bones until Taylor made up their mind, but I always had in my drafts a version where they went with Noah. Some talks on the discord happened and I just went "fuck it we ball" and I expanded the draft to a full-blown one-shot. Also: I KNOW ANTLERS AREN'T SENSITIVE LIKE THAT, BUT HE'S A DEER GOD. THE RULES DON'T APPLY TO HIM.

In other news, I tried to write without limitations like last time, cuz non-binary folk who are okay with their body parts and being called "good AGAB" exist out there too, people! So, if mentions of female body parts or female terminology shuts you down, then this won't be for you.

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here.

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up.

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him.

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was.

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked.

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine.

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked.

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back.

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting.

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head.

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were.

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark.

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized, despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me. I didn't know how dizzier I could get.

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted.

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time.

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good. Off,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans.

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been wet this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into my pussy and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my slit. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good.

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips and then I heard,

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD.

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat.

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me.

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips.

“Noah, please I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Pray for me.”

“Please, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes, it was him shoving his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was.

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed two fingers up and down my still-slick folds. He slowly pushed them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up.

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed.

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he too was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna… I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue, or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily.

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise, as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 5

tw: explicit content, noncon/heavy dubcon. 4k+ words. Satoru/Reader/Suguru poly. afab!omega!reader, alpha!gojo, alpha!geto. yandere gojo and geto.

mind games, de-socialization/infantilization, caregiver/dependency kinks, piss kink, humiliation/control, captivity, stockholm syndrome, physical restraints, force-feeding (briefly), restricted bathroom access, suggestions of heat/breeding/pregnancy, reader has a panic attack.

Prompt: An omega is made to regularly piss themselves to show submission to the alpha(s) around them.

It’s for different reasons that Gojo and Geto force you to piss yourself during your captivity, but it always ends the same.

Laughter in your ears. A teasing joke – kinder, if it was from Geto – and perhaps they force you to sit there, soaked, for a few minutes until they tire of taunting you and carry you to the bathroom to wash it off.

They never leave you in there unsupervised, so it’s not like you’re ever relieving yourself without either of them present, as awful as the thought is.

That had happened only a couple times, early on.

Gojo had snapped that if you wanted to be left alone so badly, then he’d do it, even as Geto frowned in disapproval.

He’d continued to deliver you meals but otherwise went along with Gojo’s plan… even though you were chained to the bed, unable to so much as go to the bathroom on your own volition.

It was in part due to your own pride that you didn’t ask one of them to help you. You held it as long as you could – surely Geto would have to know.

He’d even asked if you needed anything one day in, and you were just about to ask him to take you to the bathroom when someone – Gojo, presumably – dragged him away.

Then you’d been left in the humiliating position of being forced to soil yourself. Literally, there’d been nothing else you could do.  

Afterwards, you’d gone on something of a hunger strike. Couldn’t have your bodily functions and sanitary conditions held hostage if you didn’t eat or drink, right?

You would have been proud of how long you lasted, were it not for how it ended.

It was hard – very hard – to keep on declining food after Gojo started to get desperate, realizing that you really were starving yourself.

He started bringing you offerings of all the best food and drink you could think of. Tempting you with a picnic on the balcony, what would’ve been the first fresh air you’d gotten since they kidnapped you.

That might have been his rut coming on, which would explain his shitty attitude. Being possessive over Geto, over you.

Wanting to provide for you, feed you, growing utterly distraught that you refused to eat the food he presented. Going through a thousand options to please you, like you were his mate.

He was scary. Gojo had always been scary, so upfront and outright with his desires, so unwilling to ever hold anything back.

And it pleased you, somewhere in the dark part of your heart, to make your displeasure – your rejection – so plainly known to the alpha before you.

Later you'd realize that Geto was the scary one. He’d come in one last time, made a final offering and a strict but firm warning.

You turned him down again and he’d returned with a cloth soaked in chloroform.

When you woke up, it was to a tube down your throat and your arms and legs strapped down.

Geto waiting patiently at your bedside for you to wake up, shushing you as you struggled and tried to choke it out, holding your head down gently so you didn’t hurt yourself.

He cooed that you were just so helpless, you couldn’t take care of yourself, couldn’t even eat without being made to, so you absolutely needed to be taken care of.

Couldn’t you see? This was for your own good. You were literally starving yourself, and for what?

Geto reeked of alpha pheromones, which was worse. While Gojo had been inconsolable, seeking your approval and acceptance, Geto’s scent was all delight and satisfaction at having given you what you needed.

Your alpha who knew what was best for you, better than you did yourself, and he was easily able to wrestle his stubborn little omega into submission.

It hadn’t been all his patronizing rambling and smug proclamations.

It had been the fact that you were physically incapable of talking back, telling him he was wrong, telling him you were starving yourself because they did shit like this and you didn’t want to fucking LIVE LIKE THIS –

The fury had choked you, leaving you coughing around the tube for Geto to fuss over you some more, inordinately pleased with the situation.

He’d left you with the tube for two days. You’re sure he would have done it longer, would have left you miserable and uncomfortable like that, forced you to soil the special bed padding made for elderly patients, forced you to endure even more sponge baths like you were an actual invalid.

But Satoru whined about how lame it was to have to change and clean and check your tubes instead of sharing a nice meal together, how boring it was that he couldn’t speak with you, that you’d definitely learned your lesson now, right? Right?

You weren’t even embarrassed to nod as they both stared at you. Look me in the eyes, darling. You wouldn’t put us through that again, right?

Put THEM through it. Like you weren’t the one starving, locked in a room, treated like an actual fucking animal for not wanting to be cozy with your captors.

It’s worse because it plays into your instincts. That’s why they have these expectations, why they go along with all these insane things.

At first you’d been angry, as reluctant as any abductee would be, but the longer you were exposed to their scents, the more you grew accustomed to them.

The more they tried to take care of you, the more you wanted to let them. Two beautiful, strong, lovely alphas who wanted so badly to be good to you, isn’t that what any omega would want?

They knew it, too. That was the worst part.

Your heat was coming up, the first since they’d taken you away, and you weren’t proud or delusional enough to think you’d make it even a day without begging one of them to knot you. If Geto wanted to hold out, you knew Gojo would give in, all you had to do was whine for him.

It fucking stung, the fact that you’d already thought about it so thoroughly. It stung to know their plan was working, that you knew and expected yourself to fuck them during your heat, even as sexual encounters with them became more and more commonplace.

None of them were really consensual, but you weren’t confident calling them rape, either.

Not when they always did stop when you’d asked them to, even once or twice when you’d wanted it bad so so fucking bad.

Pheromones hot and sticky in the air, the scent of pleasure and desire tugging you in. Making everything perfect and right and safe with your alpha for just a few precious moments.

Just by his scent, you knew the alpha was just on the cusp; it was the most arousing thing you’d ever felt in your fucking life and everything inside you screamed to make them cum and give you more of those comforting, arousing, pleasurable pheromones… and you’d told him to stop anyways.

Just to prove that you didn’t actually have any power, this was all because of them. They were in control and they’d fuck you whether or not you wanted them to.

But they did stop.

Even when Geto’s impeccable self-control was in tatters, even when Gojo had gone feral with need fucking you hard; if you told them to stop, they would.

If you told them to get off you, they did. If you said not to touch, then they wouldn’t. At least, not for sexual purposes.

It didn’t stop either one from jerking themselves to completion in front of you; your alpha moaning and whining with a flushed face as he locked eyes with you.

What a tease, Geto would say, Needy little omega wants me to put on a show?

Gojo was no better, Fuck, babe, you kill me, you really do… but what my omega wants, my omega’s gonna get.

Utterly unfazed by rejection, by denial. It wouldn’t even stop him from cumming, from finding release as he gazed at you. The scent of his arousal was more than enough to keep you hot and wanting, hand moving to rub yourself without your permission at the sight.

Sometimes the other one would come and help your partner out, drawn in by the heated noises and obvious arousal thick in the surroundings. Eager to assist with a warm hand or a wet mouth, even locking eyes with you while he did it.

Something dark and possessive flaring inside you at the sight of the alpha that had been inside you seconds ago brought to completion by another. 

Something almost worse filling your core with heat at the sight of your alpha being ravished, and another alpha your alpha fluttering his lashes at you as if to say don’t you want to be next? Next to cum, next to us? Inside us, around us, a part of us, like we’re entwined now?

Insane. Insane insane insane they’re driving you insane with this behavior. This façade of care and consideration.

Like you’re really lovers except for how you’re not allowed to choose what room you want to be in at any given time.

You can’t go to the restroom without permission. Can’t eat except for what they feed you. Can’t pick what show to watch, can’t go on the internet, can’t read a book or do anything to entertain yourself without their say-so.

They’ve arranged it somehow so that one of them is always with you. Even your bedtime – in the king-sized bed in the main room of the penthouse – is determined by them. No doubt they schedule it intentionally, so that if they both need to be gone, you’ll be asleep.

You can’t choose anything for yourself, but that’s not an omega’s place. Your alphas will present you with everything you need or want. It’s their duty to know you well enough to keep you satisfied always.

And when you do need to make a choice, when you need that element of control, they’ll give you the options to pick from, so you don’t get too overwhelmed.

Fucking archaic. No one thought that way about omegas anymore. No one treated omegas – anyone ­– like that anymore.

Nobody but Gojo and Geto, the only alphas in the world with both the power and the perceptiveness to provide so perfectly and so thoroughly.

But even those little moments where they offer you some choice, something they’ll actually follow through with, where your opinion truly counts – even that is just the illusion of power. They decide what to give you, when to give it to you.

And they do what they want, ultimately, hence the current situation. They like to make you drink, bring you glasses of water throughout the day for you to finish, “keep you hydrated”, and it’s laughably transparent what it’s in the service of.

But what can you do? They’ve proven they’re not afraid to force things down your throat. This is infinitely more comfortable than the alternative.

Sometimes if you complain enough they’ll bring you something other than water. Once or twice, Geto would let you pick – “Apple juice or orange, darling? You can always still have water, if it’s too hard to choose.” – and to your utter despair, you felt grateful.

Gojo, you think, genuinely gets off on the scent of your piss.

He’s a bit of a freak, though you’d known that from the beginning. Prone to nuzzling into the scent glands on the side of your neck while he took you from behind against some surface.

Inevitably, he pressed you into it, hard enough to pressure your lower abdomen. Between the pressure of his cock filling you entirely, and the press from outside your body as he fucked you against it, all you could do was whimper.

“S-Satoru,” He’s nicer when you call him by his first name, “Satoru, please, please, I – I have to go – ”

Another thrust, hot, heavy, harder than the rest you think, a grin you can hear, teeth against your ear, “I’ve got you, baby.”

“Eugh – please Satoru I can’t hold it – ”

“If you gotta go, baby, go,” He purrs into your ear, “Just follow your instincts. You can do that, right? Just let go.”

His words make it all the harder to hold back, the innate desire to please an alpha surging through you as your release approaches.

And you’re close, too, about to cum even as you can feel the urge to pee swelling with it. It’s gross, it feels awkward, but you just want it to be over –

“Aww, little omega needs some help? Let alpha help you along~”

Fingers trace over your clit and you squeak, Gojo just laughs while he rubs tighter against you, bringing you all the way over the edge. You cum with a cry, a shudder, clinging to him at your involuntary, humiliating release.

“That’s it, there you go, baby,” He pants, deep breaths as he thrusts his own release into you, “Piss all over my cock. Mark your territory. I can smell you.”

Heat shoots up your body, your cheeks. A sigh of relief as your bladder empties itself. Burning shame. It roils, churns; your thighs feel sticky with more than just cum.

You quiver, burying your head in his neck to avoid the smell. Gojo’s scent is sweet with delight as he rides you through the aftershocks.

He strokes your back while he coos, “There you go, wasn't that nice, baby? Didn't that feel good? Don’t worry, just leave the rest to your alpha.”

He made you do this. But it’s no use getting angry, tensing up or doing anything, really. Your omega instincts are telling you to give in, go limp and obedient and he’ll take care of you.

And you do. It’s either that or soak in your own piss. Gojo’s breaths are deep and he hardens inside you at the scent in the air, and all you can do is whimper.

You don’t complain when he fucks you again in slow strokes to avoid overstimulating you. When he gets fully hard again, you’re starting to clench against your will, and he starts pressing into your clit again in short circles.

His fingers are wet, warm, and it’s not long before he brings you to another peak, warbling high, soft noises while he purrs in satisfaction.

You try not to think about the mess on the inside of your thighs, on his cock. Gojo brings his finger from your clit to his mouth. Blue eyes boring into yours, grinning, while he licks it clean.

So you wait a little while before you whine at Gojo, “Bath,” leveraging the alpha’s need to coddle you.

It usually works. You’re usually only made to sit in your disgust for a few moments of hot, sticky, uncomfortable pleasure before he scoops you up and takes you to the bathroom.

You have a surprisingly thorough skincare routine. Geto likes routines, you think, and Gojo likes sweet-smelling soaps and lotions, and they both like pampering you.

Pretending that you’re their sweet little omega girlfriend they spoil rotten instead of a prisoner who can’t leave.

It could almost be nice. Gojo’s large form in the tub beside you as he carefully scrubs you clean, massages his favorite fruit scented shampoo into your hair.

Grooming you with a diligence that you wouldn’t expect from him, all soft hands and gentle circles. Rinsing everything out.

Your tongue darts out over your lips, purely reflexive, as he cleans you up. For his part, Gojo doesn’t even try to resist the desire to lick over your scent glands when he towels you dry.

You smell like him, after. It makes him hard, but it’s easy to make Gojo hard, like that’s his default state whenever you’re around.

Your bare neck does things to him, you think. It’s stranger that smelling Gojo on you makes Geto hard, when he comes in to make sure he's following your routine correctly.

Gojo kisses at the corner of your mouth before he pops out the cleanser. You sit down obediently for him as Geto walks in, like he can tell you’re going to be put to bed soon.

They fuss in unison; Geto wants a leave-in conditioner for your hair, Gojo thinks that’ll weigh it down. Taking turns massaging your face, your hands, with one product or another. You feel like a doll sitting there – they certainly treat you like one.

Neither of them ask for your input on anything. Gojo styles your hair as he likes, using the hair dryer on you. The one time he hadn’t, Geto threw a fit, saying you could catch a cold.

It feels nice. Hands running through your hair, brushing it. You could almost catch yourself purring. And then Geto will mention a trim, of Gojo will suggest some styling, and you’ll remember with frigid clarity that it’s not really your hair anymore. Just the hair on their pretty little omega doll.  

Frighteningly, the thought makes you wet, sometimes. Sometimes you think you’re conditioned to get wet when you feel helpless, because that’s the only useful thing you can do. Get wet enough to make one of your alphas purr and kiss and fuck you into blissful comfort.

Gojo thinks it’s cute, thinks it’s darling, he’ll usually give in to you right away.

Geto actively tries to make you feel helpless. You think that’s what it is, when he makes you piss yourself, that’s what he gets off on. Making you drink more and more, knowing you can’t really refuse. Asking you to hold it just a little longer.

“Come now, we don’t want to make a mess, do we? Just another minute, little omega.” Geto likes it when you make a mess.

Or rather, he likes when you need him to clean you up. When you need him, in general.

“Needy little thing.” He sits you on his lap. The arm wrapped around your waist pressing against your abdomen. “One more minute, love, then we’ll head to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t encourage you like Gojo, but he wants the same thing. You’re not sure which one you hate more. He’s only pretending to fix your hair. Gojo and him are the only ones who see it. It’s not remotely critical, not like your bodily needs –

But you don’t get to decide what’s important. Geto does, and he says you stay here, even when you desperately, desperately need to go.

“Suguru,” You whimper, squirming. You just want it to be over. “Suguruuuu.”

No pretense, anymore. His hand that isn’t constricting your middle darts down between your legs. Rubs your clit over your underwear.

Rock hard. You can smell the arousal on him. But Geto’s worse than Gojo, because Geto doesn’t always care about getting off. Sometimes he’s happy just to finger you. Sometimes he either jerks himself or gets Gojo to get him off. Sometimes he’ll eat you out for hours, claiming you were too fussy, and if he puts his dick in you, you’re not awake for it.

The scent of his arousal has you dripping quickly, it’s not even worth it to stave it off. The best you can do is get him to do it faster, and even that’s not really up to you.

The pleasure comes beneath his fingertips, but it’s sharp, tapered by friction, and he keeps a steady pressure around your abdomen that has the pressure building in your bladder. It’s a painfully familiar feeling.

“Hold it.” He commands, your alpha, and you do, you really do. You don’t want to piss yourself, but you know he does, and he’s just fucking toying with you while he gets you there. “Hold.”

It’s hard, hard, pulling against the tide, fighting the promise of release that swells beneath his touch. You can’t do it long. Full to bursting.

“There you go, just a little more.” He finally drags his fingers beneath your panties. You’re ready to start crying. “So wet. You don’t want to make a mess, do you? Just wait a little longer.”

Lying lying he’s lying and the thought makes it so much harder to control but you don’t WANT to. You don’t!

You really do cry, a sob that catches in your throat when he dips a finger into you and you feel a dam begin to swell against the increased stimulation.

“What a good omega,” He purrs, like he’s noticing your discomfort and trying to relieve you, instead of enjoying it, “Hold it. Hold it.”

Another finger in. So full, you’re so full, it’s like his cock is inside you, there’s so much that it hurts, you just want to let go. He starts rubbing faster against your clit, a sweet friction that you have to fight not to buck into, muscles spasming, control faltering.

“Suguru,” Reduced to pitiful mewls. Just how he likes you.

“Hold it.” He says, and he knows, he fucking knows, he must know –

Fingers darting deep inside you, arm clenching violently against your lower half. Squeezing, squeezing, so hard, all while he pinches tightly at your clit. White hot pleasure pours through you, heady, flooding, and all you know is relief.

“Oh,” He says, like he’s surprised, even though you can feel his smile widen against your neck, “Oh, poor little omega. Had an accident, have you? It’s all right. It’s okay.” He prods tenderly at your clit, nursing you through it.

“I know how it is. You can’t help it, can you, baby?” He kisses against your neck from the left. “Poor thing. Don’t worry. Your alpha will take care of it. It’s only natural, silly little thing like you, you just couldn't help yourself.”

It’s a constant refrain they both like to repeat. Not to be ashamed of your instincts, your body, your needs.

You know why. To your great misfortune, you were born an omega, and so once you go into heat you’ll be struck with the insatiable desire for their knots, and it’s in their best interest for you not to resist that.

The less you resist, the better the chances their claiming bites will stick. Gojo already loves to chew at the glands on your neck – you think he’s even ‘called’ the right side, gnawing at there lazily while Geto is in the room.

For Gojo, it’s just dirty talk, but Geto likes to lecture you. There’s no one in your tiny world who has any level of disgust for your bodily functions.

They’ve seen it all, seen you helpless, sick, all kinds of messy, and they loved you, loved taking care of you. It was an honor for them to see you so vulnerable, an honor only your alphas deserved.

Sometimes he calls it desensitization training, like there’s a purpose to making you piss yourself besides getting high on control and making you humiliate yourself into submission to their whims.

But you do think there’s more to that for Geto.

If they had their way, you’d be a complete degenerate, an invalid, helpless by choice and totally disinterested in changing that.

A spoiled, mewling omega just a few steps away from ferality. They already don’t let you do much on your own, attending to even the simplest things all by themselves.

Knowing only to whine for your alphas to entertain you, provide for you, comfort you, because that’s all you ever needed to do. Utterly incapable of functioning in normal society, and unable to see anything wrong with that.

It’s coming. Soon. You know it is, and you’re sure they do, too. Geto in particular probably knows your body better than you do; probably tracks your hormones and cycles, may even be feeding you suppressants or stimulants.

You can only pray he’s bothered to give you contraceptives, too. Gojo’s a lost cause, he’s probably chomping at the bit to put a baby in you, but Geto would at least be concerned with the implications.

They’d chained you to the bed and locked you up for a couple days alone but they couldn’t leave you alone if you were pregnant. Their instincts just wouldn’t permit it.

Thinking about it makes you shake, uncontrollably. In your shared bed, in their arms, even with their voices cooing in your ear and their purrs and cuddles desperately soothing you.

Your heart trembles. Your heat is coming, it’s coming, and after that you could get pregnant.

They couldn’t leave you alone if you were pregnant. No alpha would ever be able to tear themselves away.

Alone, alone, locked in that tiny room. Chained up. You couldn’t even relieve yourself. Stuck in your own filth, abandoned by your alphas, the ones who were supposed to love you, protect you, provide for you.

They couldn’t, they wouldn’t. No alpha could abandon their omega. But they had once. They had once. They do whatever they want with you, no matter how much you hate it.

You tell yourself desperately you don’t want to be bred, and even you can’t tell if you mean it, excuses flashing back and forth in your mind.

What if they got you pregnant and decided you didn’t deserve their company? Decided you weren’t grateful enough for the calming presence of an alpha during your most vulnerable time? What if they thought you’d look cute, all pregnant and desperate and crying for them?

There’s no fix for this, nothing you can do about it, they’ve taught you that you can’t control anything in your life anymore.

Realization after realization crashes down, each little thing, can’t stop them from leaving, can’t stop them from breeding you, can’t stop them from fucking you in your heat, can’t do anything can’t you can’t you can’t –

They’re going to leave you. You’ll be heavy with child, longing for comfort and affection.

They’re going to make you need them. They’re going to make you weak in the worst possible way. They’re going to use it to hurt you.

Jerking, sniffling. Someone comes closer – it’s warm, paler, probably Gojo – but the shivering just gets worse.

Come closer, leave you alone. They’ll do whatever they want to do. You’ll just have to accept it.

They’re going to leave. Leave you alone. All alone. All by yourself. Locked up, in chains, unable to do anything. They made you need them and they’re going to leave –

Wetness pools in your eyes, and you blink it away without really trying, without noticing so much how the tears roll down your cheek.

The numb terror overwhelms everything. Cold, it’s cold, and somehow so hot. Your heart is trying to bolt out of your chest.

A name you distantly recognize as yours rings in your ears, but you don’t notice, don’t understand.

You’re too busy trying to breathe through all your panting, all the adrenaline rushing through you with the panic.

You feel helpless, completely helpless. Pinned between the two of them.

Larger, stronger, alphas who can subdue your resistance just by existing, emitting pheromones that send you into dizzy complacence or heady lust.

Alone. Alone, alone, they’re here now but it’s not because you want them they don’t care what you want they do what they want you can’t have anything can’t do anything you can’t you can’t you can’t.

The thoughts coil endlessly through your mind, spinning, spinning, spinning in place. A hand rubs against your back, a desperate purr in the distance.

Background noise. You're alone, trapped in your head, trapped with thoughts that won't stop coming.

Spiraling despair that just goes deeper and deeper, new fears unearthed with every thought.

You feel like throwing up.

Would they feel like cleaning you up? You’d be at their mercy, caked in your own vomit.

You feel like you’re dying.

Maybe you are. Maybe this is how they kill you, from the inside out.

[mrshargreeves]

reading gender neutral fanfic totally not cause every afab fanfic makes you read ten chapters solely focused on the readers pussy

[missjasmine98]

• RESIDENT EVIL HEADCANONS | ALBERT WESKER ON A SHOPPING WITH YOU •

-> I was in the mall today and really huge wave of delulu hits me so this is all of the stuff that sitting and drinking tea in my head about wesker and you on the shopping. Also im sorry for any mistakes english is not my native language but i love Albert so much and trying here my best... enjoy babes!! <-

༺☆༻

• Let's be honest with the fact, that mans hate being in a mall, especially with a woman who has to visit every single store. So do it Wesker, but your company makes it more comfortable to him.

• You are trying some dresses and showing yourself to him while he is sitting in front of the changing room and looking at you with tiredness hidden behind his glasses.

• I think we all can agree that our Albert isn't very good at being romantic in public but still wants to show everyone that he's the luckiest man here having you, so when you both are walking through the mall he holds his hand on your lower back and holds you close to him.

• You're quite a really energetic and happy person which is opposite to his calm and serious character. You'll like to show your life on the insta stories and show your man on it.

•Albert doesn't like that at all because he rather stay unknown one when it's comes to social media. He would hide his face or taking your phone away.

• Your relationship with him is 50% love and 50% bullying (ofc in that good way we don't like toxic relationships right???)

• You would jumping around him and teasing him all these long hours of shopping yapping about everything and anything.

• He allows you to spending his money on things and clothes that makes you happy because he loves when you looking at him with those smile of yours or gives him a kiss on the cheek.

• You never forget about buying something for him. I mean some clothes like classic T-shirts or sweatpants for lazy days at home when you both don't have to go to work (IM SURE HE IS WEARING THAT TYPE OF CLOTHES WHEN HE DOESN'T HAVE TO GO OUT ON PUBLIC)

• You always trying to make sure he's comfortable or how he's feeling and if he's tired you always offer to sit on a while.

• He would carry your shopping bag for you.

• Wesker picked up one of the violet lace bra's from the little table "What about this one?". You turned to him and moved your way closer "Uh I don't really know now, its so many of this stuff, everything is pretty here" You took the bra from his hands and looked closer with a grimace full of indecision "Allow me to help you, doll" He gripped the bra from your hand and brown one from the shelf you were looking at earlier and headed towards the till grabbing your hand.

• He also always making sure you're not hungry and takes you to the restaurants or cafes.

[checkeredscarff]

AAA MITSUKI X READER WHOS LIKE REALLY NICE AND SWEET AND STUFF BUT IS ACTUALLY REALLY TOUCHY AND CLINGY!!! And like loves kissing and being affectionate (not freaky trust)

YESYESYES GAAAH I have no idea if you wanted hcs or not but I'm gonna do hcs-

-ˋˏshᥱ ᥣooks jυst ᥣιkᥱ ᥲ drᥱᥲmˊˎ-

┆Mitsuki x Clingy! reader

-ˋˏWarnings┆none!ˎˊ-

-------------------

Reader is gender neutral but afab! I AM SOSOSO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON :((( Aya is just Mitsuki's bestie in this but it's not important! Reader is refered to as pretty! Reader isn't the toxic kind of clingy just very touchy and affectionate :3 Mitsuki is a bit shy. May be OOC...

Not proofread cuz I suck :(

-♯ mі𝗍sᥙkі k᥆gᥲ

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Don't get her wrong- Mitsuki LOVES how affectionate you are but she's a bit nervous about being public about it. Ahe doesn't mind hand hding but hugs and kisses in public turn her unusually red. She gets used to it after a bit though!

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Her favorite thing to do is just stay at either of your houses and cuddle all day. These count as dates by the way! So don't ask her to take you on a date after 3 days in a row of you guys cuddling all day! Just kidding! She doesn't mind :3

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Absolutely loves being drowned in your kisses. Just those fun little moments where you kiss all over her face. They make her face flush and get her all giggly like a highschool girl-.. wait a minute..

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Loves when beg to match outfits with her or when you ask to wear some of her clothes if you have a different style! She loves showing you off, (not in like a 'ooo look at my trophy wife lozers) it makes her feel so cool having someone so pretty on her arm as a rock girlie.

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ She got the idea from your outfit matching but if she gets you to like any songs or bands, she asks to get you matching keychains of your favorite songs or albums from the band(s).

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ She loves just resting her head on your chest when you guys cuddle up BUT ONLY IF YOU'RE OKAY WITH IT OFC cause y'all are teens n sometimes it hurts 🥀

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Likes it- no scratch that- loves it when you ask her to make a song about you or your relationship because it reminds her of how supportive you are of her passion for music.

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ She feels like a freak but she loves telling people you guys are dating when someone mistakes you for friends. It feels like such a win for her. You're like.. a gift from the Gods to her she honestly cannot wrap her head around how on gods green earth she pulled you and got you to cling to her so tightly.

⋆ ˚🪻 ⁀➴ ꒰ Very big on carrying you if she can in private tho. She loves just lifting you up bridal style and carrying you around like a damsel. She can tell you love it too. Also just a little thingy I stole from my ocs but she likes playing and fidgeting with your ring finger <333

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated! -🪻

[catwouthats]

…. What do you mean many other trans people don’t like the idea of Skyrocket or Gal Gardner…

I feel so alone.

[sophiethewitch1]

Maybe it's the gender is an illusion or a spice of life in me but I gotta say the gender bends are transphobic discourse stuff sounds a lot like nonsense to me. Before you shoot me between the eyes I use they/them pronouns so therefore I am allowed to have an opinion about this lmao

[aceyanaheim]

idk like this is something I've been thinking is like I've actually Constantly defended shonen as having it's place because I was raised in toxic masculity and happen to think telling boy children that it's okay to be emotional and cry and have faith in your friends is incredibly Incredibly needed in a way that yes is More needed than for girl children because boy children are treated. I stand on the fact that shonen needs to exist and target boy children for those messages.

It's just that I also think showing boy children that girls aren't that different from them ( that they shouldn't be Leered at bc "funny" ) that they can be capable and win fights but also don't have to be tough to be worth something I just think that's just as important too?? LIke boy children being told that would be very good actually might even be super important and significant?

And then there's also the fact that just because it's targeted ot boy children it doesn't mean girl children don't watch it.

[angrelysimpping]

The (Night) Hunter: Collab'oween Day 25

Night Hunter x AFAB Reagent (they/them pronouns) 

the only prompt that wasn't mine that i actually got a chance to write for ><"

Warnings: noncon; anal; piss; weird ear stuff (thanks inky); mentioned wound fucking; violence; off screen character death (two reagents enter the trial and…..its questionable if even one leaves, actually); he’s huntin’; mentioned cum eating; a lot of crying; set in program three

Words: 2239

“Run! Hide!” He laughs as the pair scamper back around the corner, sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the orphanage bathroom. “Make this fun for me.” 

He lets them get a head start, smile curling across his lipless face, before taking off after them. The two have already made it through the laundry room, but they’re not fast enough. No one ever is. One of them makes it out of the room by just a hair before he enters. So close he can almost smell them, stale clean Murkoff soap and the metallic stench of fear. 

They won’t make it to the courtyard.

They don’t even try.

The utility room is empty, doors untouched.

Hiding vermin, like rats.

“Oh, sure is dark in here.” He shuts the door behind him, the gas trap re-setting with a soft twang as he giggles. “What a shame.”

The air is dead still, almost unsettling silence. It lays thick on his skin, an oppressive blanket that would make anyone else squirm. 

Not him, though.

“You can’t hide,” he half sighed, half sung. With heavy, sure strides, he makes his way across the room. “You sure can’t hide.” A soft, stifled sound - a sob - from under the desk. “From the man with the x-ray eyes.” 

He reaches under the desk without warning, grabbing a fist full of hair and yanks. The fucker screams, sound mixing with his harsh laughter as he flings them across the room. 

A man. He stares up with wide, unseeing eyes, night vision goggles knocked from his face. He’s dazed, sprawled out on the floor. 

Glorious sight, the fear, the fucking terror.

“I’m gonna watch you bleed.” Almost delicately, he nestles the tip of his machete between the man’s thighs. Like any caught vermin, he tries to squirm back, but there’s nowhere to go, breath stuttering as he presses the blade against groin. “And then I’m gonna watch you die.”

The brick hits him in the face. 

He topples to the floor with a thud, metal scraping against concrete as he tries and fails to keep his equipment from taking any damage. A whoop of delight echoing around the room as he crashes.  

“LITTLE SHIT!”  

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he’s back on his fleet in a flash. He’s up faster than they expected. He can tell from the way they freeze, smile dropping and breath hitching as he lunges for them and, for a second, they seem to shine brighter for him than before.

The other little cunt running around in the dark, trying to save their dumb friend. 

“That fucking hurt!” 

Hand clamping around their forearm, they squeak, wrenching back. But his grip is iron, holding on as they scramble towards the light, the courtyard, safe haven from his x-ray eyes. 

“No you don’t, slippery little glow worm.”

But they do, near falling into the light and dragging him along.

“Shit!” 

Those damned lights were too much. Blinding, burning his eyes, scorching out his brain with their intensity. He couldn’t even blink thanks to the way those doctor fucks had made his goggles. ‘Great bird of prey,’ bah.

They don’t get far, stumbling, panic blinding them nearly as complete as the light blinds him. A desperate attempt to vault a crate is their folly as he fights to drag them back. 

And it’s so easy to pin them over the edge of the crate. 

“Got ya now, shiny worm.”

They writhe under him, bucking and twisting. Any other time, he’d gut them with his machete and move on. But, they’re squirming, their ass grinding against his dick, and god when was the last time he-

The whine of the gas trap triggering scatters his thoughts. Muffled thud of the spike impaling flesh, panicked sobs. Ah, the man from under the desk, the one they were trying to protect. 

Now getting gassed out of their mind, having opted to run away instead of help.

“Looks like your little friend tried to sneak away.” Idly, he rocks his hips forward, letting them feel how hard their struggles made him. “Gonna just be you,” he grips his machete tight, bringing the tip to the hem of their pants. They freeze, a whimper building in their throat as he takes his time, cool metal kissing their skin. Hooking the blade into the ragged material, the cloth all but falls apart on contact. “And me,” he finishes, wild giggle bubbling up from his chest as their pathetic attempts to escape redouble. 

“Aw, little glow worm, what’s with all the fuss?” With practiced hands, unseeing, he drags the waistband of his pants down, freeing his aching erection. They still again as his cock caresses the curve of their ass, hot and hard, before a small sob leaves them. “Oh, wanna play nice now, do ya?” 

A broken, moaned no that he barely hears, too enthralled by grinding against their ass. Shifting his hips just enough, his cock angles down, sliding between sweat slicked thighs and-

“Ah, feels like you’re wet, like your cunt is starved for-fuck off!”

He should have expected the kick. Little fucker had put up a hell of a fight, much more than he’d ever expected from such a feeble looking worm. Why would they have stopped now? Just roll over and give up because he’d slid between their lips? Become a silent, submissive little pup because his tip had bumped into their clit? 

No, and they wouldn't be nearly half as fun if they had.

Before they can kick out again, he grabs them by the back of their head, dirty nails digging into their scalp as he yanks them back. “Do that again,” his tongue lulls out from his destroyed mouth, hot muscle trailing up the side of their neck, “and I’ll take you apart piece by piece.” Caressing the shell of their ear, they squirm, but not there’s not as much fight as before. “Even those bastards won’t be able to put you back together again.” They go stiff as his tongue wiggles into their ear canal, a small sound of discomfort escaping them. 

But, they don’t move.

Not even as he withdraws his tongue, gnarled teeth catching on their earlobe. Steadily adding pressure, they shudder under him, but they don’t try to squirm away like before. 

"Good mousy."

Blinded still, he nearly impales their hand as he embeds his machete into the crate, a pathetic hiccuped whimper making his dick jump. Another tiny giggle leaves him as he press their head down with one hand, grabs their hip with the other, and starts to rut against them. 

They don't move, don't try to stop him as precum smears against their skin. Good enough for him. He can't see their eyes dart around the courtyard, a group of white coated "doctors," or whatever they liked to call themselves, gathered at an observation window. 

He wouldn't have cared if he had. Might have even gone on to put on more of a show, even. But, no, not right now, not this time. Right now, all he can think about, all he can care about, is the warm body beneath him. Of their soft grunts, their attempts to keep quiet and not attract any other attention. Of the way their body responds, even if they don't want it to, slick gathering on his cock, precum mixing with his own and making his movements easier. 

Of the tight hole that the head of his cock catches against as he repositions himself.

They stiffen under him, rigid as he slows his thrusts, grinding the tip of his dick against the spot where their body fights to keep him out. “What we got here, huh?” 

“D-don’t.” Their voice is so soft he almost doesn't hear it, lost in his heavy breathing and the buzzing of the lights. “N-not…not there. Don’t. P-please.”

“Not here?” He presses forward a fraction of an amount, fat head pressing against the tight ring of muscles. Their breath catches in their throat, and he can almost taste their desperation, thick like battery acid on his tongue. “Maybe if you'd been a good lil mouse from the start,” he pants, reveling in how their body is slowly succumbing to his will even as they beg for him to stop, “I’d be able to find the right hole.” 

“Go back. W-we can g-go back. Into the d-dark.” Their voice is higher pitched than before, all broken, stuttered words and pleading tone. Not the same little shit who had the gall to smash his face in with a brick only moments ago. “I w-won’t r-run.” He can hear their suppressed sobs, leans down to swipe his tongue over their cheek. Salt, tears and sweat. They shudder as his tongue traces the curve of their neck, tucking his face into the joint between their neck and shoulder. Inhaling deep, he catches the same scent as before, chemicals and fear and, under it all, the faint trace of their own scent. 

Delicious. 

He doesn’t say anything, and maybe they know the answer from the way he smiles into their skin. They sob as his cock slowly pries open their rim, losing the fight to keep him out. 

He can’t help himself after that, glorious tight heat enveloping him. Hips jerking forward, they scream as he impales their ass in one brutal thrust. Friction almost painful, he laughs into their neck, wild giggles and labored breaths as he starts to pull out. They’re still screaming, sound no longer ringing in his ears as much as before but still a persistent annoyance as he snaps forward again. 

“Might wanna shut your yap, mousy,” he growls, teeth scraping over the tender skin of their neck, tongue flicking out to swipe over a pulse point. “Unless you want Goosberry to give you a new hole for me to fuck.” 

They move, twisting under him. For a second, his hand goes for his machete, before they settle again. He can’t see them, can only feel them: tight around his cock, trembling back against his chest around his battery, wild hartbeat against his teeth, surprisingly soft skin of their hip in his scarred palm, head still pressed down and forcing their cheek against the harsh wood. He doesn’t know how they’ve moved to bite into their forearm, dampening the sounds of their sobs and screams as he starts another torturously slow withdrawal. But he notices the muffled sounds, their attempt, their promptness at his threat.

The cackle he lets out almost rivals their initial scream as he’d forced them open. 

“Good mousy.” Punctuating the sentence with a particularly brutal thrust, he’s greeted with the smell of bleach. 

He stays buried deep as a hot gush of liquid splashes against his thighs. His grins grows even wider, biting down into their shoulder lightly, almost teasingly, as he rocked forward, making sure his cock pressed hard against their insides as they pissed themself. 

“Ay, watch the equipment.” 

They only sob harder into their arm, body shaking and burning as he abandoned his slow, deliberate tempo and starts a punishing pace, fucking them into the rough suerface of the crate. “Filthy little thing, aren’t you?” The words are murmured into their skin where he keeps his face shielded from the light. If they respond, he doesn’t hear it, his own harsh breath loud in his ears as he pistons into them. It’s easier now, lewd squelch every time he slams home and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the courtyard. “You bleeding sweetheart? Helping me fuck this ass open?” Another stifled sound of misery, and his cock twitches dangerously. “Bet it’d taste good. Wouldn’t have to carve you out with my tongue either. Loosened your ass up real good, wouldn't be able to keep it in, would ya? Messy little mousy I caught, huh?” 

Their mouth leaves their arm. He can tell instantly, their sobs unfettered, copper tang of blood on their breath as they turn as much as they can to face him. 

“P-please.” It’s a pathetic little whine, almost lost amongst sobs and broken up by the force of his hips meeting their’s. There’s a buzzing in his brain, balls tightening. “J-j-just cum. Please.”

Electricity races up his spine, and he rips out of them. Letting go of their hip, he takes his cock in hand, blood and precum smeared along the shaft and coating his palm as he pumps himself to completion. A small hiccup escapes them as his hot seed paints their abused ass. 

“Don’t worry,” he pants, his own voice sounding harsh in his own ears, heavy with his accent and a barely restrained smile. “Don’t worry little mouse, my little glow worm.” They stiffen as his thumb hooks into their puffy asshole, tormenting the already tender muscles. “You were begging for me to fill you up, weren’t you nasty little worm.” They try to push back against him, try to scramble away, but their entire body shakes at the effort. Another one of his wild giggles escapes him as they collapse back against the crate. 

That must be when they feel it, how he’s already hard again, leaking new precum against their thighs. It’s in the air, the renewed fear, the electric iron taste on his tongue. 

Slipping his thumb free, he lines himself up, can feel their hole fluttering against the tip of his dick, begging for him to fill it again.

[keeps-ache]

ooooh this is such a scam [<- looking up references]

[invinciblerodent]

.

[mvrders-are-okay]

the fact that female readers are so normalized that the authors don’t have to put the gender on their tags, only using, “x you,” “x reader,” “x y/n,” …sigh.

I SAY, YOU, FEMALE READER WRITERS, OUGHT TO STOP DOING IT AND PUT THE SUITABLE TAGS INSTEAD. PUT THE READERS’ GENDER SO THAT NO ONE WILL ASSUME.

you all get me?

[diah-the-demon]

Why are so many of the fucking hsr fics meant for afab readers

[starship-of-death]

Wow I really do live in an imaginary Tumblr world huh

A character has a complicated idea of gender, the idea of being a woman feels like a cage and the idea of being a man feels like playing a part. I think, foolishly, that they will be predominantly written nonbianary and occasionally portrayed as a butch woman. I actually go into this feeling vaguely optimistic about finding fics using all pronouns!

I have found maybe seven of the top 40 fics use they/them and about three use he/him??? Most use he/him only until the Reveal that they were born female????

Which is fine, thats how it is in the canon! the character seems outwardly apathetic about how shes perceived and usually presents masc for convenience, so I don't think he'd care really. but the way that everyone looks at a person born a woman, lived most of their life as a man, hates the idea of being someone's wife, who tearfully confessed to being a 'liar' about his gender to their mentor, and almost stabbed the first person to call them a girl- overwhelmingly write her as a butch lesbian? It's odd. Not like, morally reprehensible or anything, but like. Hm. Just odd I guess.

[pikkukuutamo]

New pet peeve unlocked: self insert fanfic writers saying the pairing is [insert character/person here] x afab!reader, when it means nothing

[morallygay]

I mean it is a problem that in fandom fans often exclude female characters for the sake of male ones. Misogyny is a thing and it’s present in fandom spaces.

But that’s.. unrelated to the question of there being x amount of m/m works vs f/f works on ao3. The first option is absolutely right too. The manipulative guilt-tripping based on a false dichotomy of this post is honestly disgusting.

It doesn’t please me that there are 6x as many m/m works as f/f works. I wish it was more equal. I wish wlw had more. I feel the poller’s frustration but this doesn’t solve anything because it isn’t the problem, you’re just attacking laterally for no reason.

But on an individual level, it’s not a personal moral failing to have a preference for m/m over f/f. And it’s not their fault or responsibility if they are more numerous than ppl with a preference for f/f in those spaces.

We can talk about misogyny in fandom based on male vs female characters in non-ship fanfiction! There’s bound to be interesting and actually meaningful stuff there. But using ship fanfiction to make this point is disingenuous. People don’t write/read predominantly m/m or f/f because they’re prejudiced towards one gender over the other, it’s because of their (morally neutral) personal preferences…

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).