rav1377

[rav1377]

Remmick Masterlist

Crimson Moon

[rav1377]

Crimson Moon

Remmick x fem!reader

tw:blood, vampire, smut, oral, rough, spit stuff, blood stuff, reader uses knife, evil things, virgin reader, REMMICK IS A WARNING HIMSELF, uh inaccurate time stuff, mainly a fix to get the smut thoughts out, also has a bit of a plot, enjoy y’all! Takes place in Mississippi, 1932

the moon looked like blood as your feet scuffed on the dirt road. it lit your path, painted the dusty ground red. you gazed up at it as you walked, caught in its beauty. the crimson of the moon never looked so good. it seemed to change the whole Mississippi Delta, the woods in harmony tonight. cicadas chirped and whined with the rhythm of coyotes barking and trees swaying. the night consumed the land, yet you weren’t afraid. this was your home. you knew these woods, knew the rocks on the road and the moss on the trees. your heartbeat was slow and steady as you sang a low tune, a lullaby your mother would sing to you. she and your pa had passed when you were a teenager, taken by a fire at a cabin they stayed at for an anniversary. there was no one left for you now. no distant aunt or cousin. no estranged grandfather or godmother. so after the officer had told you of their passing, telling you to make plans for their funeral, you’d merely collapsed in the rocking chair on the front porch of the little home you’re family had. they were gone, and you were alone from now on. that had been years ago, and you’d adjusted quite well. you had a job at the grocer. you played your fiddle on Friday nights at a cafe for the older couples of the town. sang for them old ballads and waltzes. you came home, ate a small meal, and slept for hours. sometimes it was a peaceful sleep, sometimes it was fitful. but you often had these nights where you walked home alone, joining the sounds of the forest in a low tune.

a glint caught your eye up in the trees. a red glow, like the moon above. perched on a branch maybe six feet off the ground, was a man. he watched you, saw you turn and your eyes widen. “hello there, darlin’.” he murmured gently, dismounting the branch. you took a step back, clutching your fiddle case to your chest. his hands came up in surrender as you took him in. the pale skin, soft curve of his nose, those eyes glinting in the light. his hair, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. his clothes were ragged and torn, and you saw burn marks and scratches dotting his skin, like he’d been tortured. your heart went out to him, the nurturer in you wanting to clean those wounds, to help him regain strength. but your mind stopped you. this man was a stranger, hiding out in a forest no less. who knew what he could be up to. but something about him pulled you to him, drawing you in. you took a step closer when you came to the conclusion he was no threat. his eyes ran over your body, down your neck and to where your fiddle case covered your chest. “y-you alright there sir?” you ask tentatively. the man’s shoulders sag and he chuckles breathlessly. “been better. say, was that your pretty voice whisperin’ to the trees I heard?” he asks, lowering his arms. you keep your mouth shut, but your head nods on its own. he smiled weakly, like it takes a toll on him. a particularly nasty looking burn on his shoulder shows through his singed clothes. “do you need to find town?” you ask, lowering your fiddle case back to your side. the strange man shakes his head. “oh, no ma’am. but…a place to rest for the night, rest up? if you could tell me where I could find that, I’d be much obliged.” his words are like honey as they drip down your ears. they seem to go and curl right down your spine, releasing the tension in your shoulders. “well. towns another two miles thataway.” tour hand gestures to the beaten path from where you came. the man nods and hangs his head before looking at you. surely he won’t hurt you. he just needs a place to stay. but…something tugs at you. he’s off, something about him just not right. not human. “my homes not a half mile up the road. you can stay with me.” you say, facing the path again. his eyes widen and he begins to talk in that tempting voice again. “oh ma’am, I couldn’t intrude. a fine woman like you, I’m sure you got a husband waitin’ on you for your return.” he says, dropping his hands to his pockets. you shake your head and turn back at him. “no. just me. it’s alright, really.” you say, and begin to walk. for a moment, you don’t think he’ll follow, but his footsteps drag against the dirt road after you. soon, he’s walking beside you, gazing up at the moon. “crimson moon.” he murmurs, taking in a big breath with a grin. his teeth flash, and you swear they’re pointed, but it must be a trick of the light.

“can you play that thing ma’am?” his low drawl cuts through the cicadas as he gestured at your fiddle case. you nod and turn your head to him. “I can. please, don’t call me ma’am. ‘m not respectable anyhow, sir.” you say, giving him your name. he lets it roll off his tongue, and something in your falters, like loosing your balance. the first name, then the last. he repeats it again and a slight exhale leaves your lungs. “I ain’t respectable either, miss.” he says, tucking his hands behind his back. “not no more.” your eyes find his, searching to what he’s speaking of. this man’s been nothing but a gentleman, and a hurt one at that. “I didn’t catch your name, mister.” you say, eyes facing to the dirt road ahead that leads to your home. “Remmick.” he says, and you nod softly, committing the name to your memory. your thoughts get lost in your mind, and the gears start to turn of why he’s here, and what happened to him. why does he seem so different than others you have met? your feet catch a rock and you stumble forward, ready to hit the ground. but then, a pair of strong arms catch yours, holding your body up. Remixing cradles you against his chest, his hand dwarfing yours. his chest moves heavily and your eyes rake over his neck and the dirt and burns there. what happened to him? “ya alright there?” he asks, and you nod, but not pulling away from his grip, instead, leaning into it. your fiddle case has fallen to the ground but you don’t care. tracing his features up closer, you can see the slight stubbles beginning to grow, the freckles that dot his nose. the cracks in his lips. his eyes flit down to your own mouth that’s inches away from his, and are muck breathes in, not breaking eye contact with you. but then, he does. his eyes travel to your fiddle case on the ground, and he lets you go gently, like his hands are being forced from yours. “you dropped this, I believe.” he says, scooping it up in his grasp. a thank you escapes your mouth but he makes no move to return it, opting to carry it for you. so you lead the way, watching as your house comes into view. he trails behind you slightly, but with the way your cheeks heat you don’t dare look back until your feet walk up the porch. the river to the left of the house runs softly, the water trickling over the stones. your door is unlocked, and you hold it open for him, but he falters at the doorway. when you hear his footfalls stop, you watch him, see his form swaying in the red moonlight. his eyes glow red, and it’s not a trick of the light. spit drops out the corner of his mouth, wetting the skin as it begins to drip. he sees you staring, and is quick to bring a arm up to wipe his mouth, not breaking eye contact. the red dies down back to the normal dark color his eyes were. “what are you?” you whisper, walking to him until you’re a step away, blocked by the doorframe. “why’s it matter?” he retorts, the polite voice unchanging. “please.” you beg, voice dropping. Remmick sighs. “was really hopin’ you wouldn’t go askin’.” he murmurs, moving to rest a hand on the doorframe above him. “but. since you’re so kind.” his words are cut off as his mouth lifts into a grin, showing of his teeth. they are pointed. the canines are sharp and the teeth that surround them pointed as well. your mouth falls open slightly. “don’t worry, wouldn’t bite ya’.” he says, lips returning to that usual expression. no, you don’t think he would. but you’ve heard your share of stories. men warning you of demons like this. why don’t you need their warning. “you can come in.” you whisper it like it’s a prayer, and Remmick steps inside, right until your chest practically touches his. you feel his hand rest on your left cheek, and your breathing stops. “thank ya’, darlin’.” he whispers in return, pressing a feather-like kiss to your cheek.

a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaves you, and you pant out as Remmick places your fiddle on the dining table. you watch him as he looks over your home, running over every surface. your gaze drifts to one of his burns. “y-you should clean up.” you say, walking to the kitchen sink before grabbing a bar of soap and a rag from a small shelf. you hold it out to him before nodding your head to the window that overlooks the river. “waters cold and clean.” you say, looking at the floorboards as his body passes yours. your ears still crane to hear his footsteps, the unlacing of his boots and the sound of clothing on clothing. then the sound of water, running over and being moved. more heat rushes to your cheeks as you try to block out the thought of that man, the very handsome man, naked in your river. the planes of his chest and the toned skin of his arms. would the rest of his body have freckles like his face? would they even be down-your body trembles as you turn to the window above the sink. you can see his back, the toned muscles stretching and contorting as he washes his hair, running his hands through it, letting the water trickle down his skin. it looks like blood in this moonlight, and you suppose that’s fitting for what you now know he is. as if he can sense your gaze, he turns around, bottom half submerged in the water. his form is beaten, but no less attractive. he waves at you, of all things, teeth shining as he grins, like he knows what you’re thinking. you squeak and back away from the window, trying to clear the thought of him from your mind. retreating to your parents old room, your hands shake as you pull out one of your fathers old pants and shirt. he wasn’t as quite as big as Remmick in his older days, but you hope these older clothes from when he was younger would fit him. you grab a pair of suspenders as well, keeping them on the pile. you go to the porch once more, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you leave them in front of the door, where he’ll be bound to find them. then, as if running away, you wander to your room, sitting down on the bed. your hands shake as you clutch a pillow, eyes wide as the actions of what you’ve done sink in. you could very well die. he could kill you. leave your body here to rot. why in all that is good, would you choose to let him in? the way he held you? the way his eyes looked over you after you almost fell? the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket? then a knock on your doorframe, causing you to jolt. he stands there, shirtless. the suspenders hang on his sides as burns and cuts dot his chest, shirt in hand. “thank you. you’ve been kind.” he says, damp hair sticking to his scalp. you nod and look up at him, seeing the stubble on his jaw. “there’s a razor in the bathroom.” your murmur, rising. “do you…need something for your wounds?” Remmick shakes his head. “they’ll heal. one thing and one thing alone speeds it up but…” his words trail off and your lips part, speaking before you can think. “blood.” he nods, smirking at you again. “smart girl.” he says, moving to put on his shirt, doing up the buttons neatly. “w-what if you got that…the blood, I mean.” your words are whispered as you step closer, straightening his collar. you hear his breath quicken and see his eyes shut. “not a good idea, darlin’. not sure I could stop m’self if I got a bite of ya.” he says, and you shake in your place. your hands come down. “and if you didn’t bite?” you say, moving around him to the kitchen. you find a glass, placing it on the counter before reaching for a small knife that you use to cut up apples. Remmick’s followed you, and his eyes turn that dark red again. “just want to tempt me, don’t ya’?” he asks lowly, the movement letting spit drip out the side of his mouth, running over his chin. “how much d-do you…need?” you whisper, holding the knife over the pulse point on your wrist. “oh, one glass full should do just fine.” he says lowly, a new edge to his words taking hold. he pulls out a chair from the dining table, spreading out in it

you take a step back, standing by the counter before holding your wrist over the glass before slicing the skin, gasping when blood seeps out, pouring into the cup below. Remmick growls from his spot at the table, hands tightening. the cup begins to fill, and you drop the knife in order to pinch the skin around the cut, helping fill the glass. you turn your wrist away when it’s full, opting to press a rag to the cut. it stops the flow from the small cut, and you sigh before picking up the glass. the man at the tables eyes are lidded as he gestures at you to come to him with a clawed finger. you didn’t see that before. you’re standing in between where his knees are spread, somewhat hesitant. then, you’re pulled down, the backs of your thighs meeting one of Remmicks large ones. the hand that tugged you down holds you by your waist, rubbing circles onto your skin that’s hidden beneath your dress. his other takes the glass from your hands, moving to tilt the rim to his lips before locking eyes with you. in curiousity and a bit of horror, you watch as he downs the cup, drinking every drop he can. something throbs deep inside you, pulsing and drawing warmth to your womanhood. mouth parting, you watch as he takes a final sip before placing the cup on the table. his mouth and lips are coated with your blood, some of it dripping down his chin. your blood, fresh from your pulse. oh god, what are you doing? why can’t you stop yourself? your lips finally push against his, and it consumes you. he takes it as permission, and his other hand clutches your shoulder before he kisses you back harshly. your mouths stay like that, running over each other, tongues darting out to taste the other. you can taste your own blood on his mouth, the metallic tang to it, and you whimper. his hands tighten and he pulls away. “perfect darlin’.” he whispers, and you let your eyes flutter shut when his mouth traces over your ear, panting into it softly. he rocks you on his lap, keeping your body flush with his. you feel your hands betray you, reaching to hold his face as you kiss his temple, moving to the crown of his head. “gonna let me have ya’? hm? know ya’ want it s’bad as I do.” he says, and another gasp leaves your mouth as he stands, keeping your weight steady in his arms. walking to your room, your body is laid on your back, and his knees rest on either side of your hips as he presses kiss after kiss to your neck.

your hands drift to his chest, pushing against him and he relents, leaning away. you’re a mess, panting as you watch him undo his suspenders and the buttons on his shirt. he places them across the footboard of the bed before moving to shuck his trousers. shakily, your own hands come to undo the small buttons down the front of your dress before sitting up to pull it off your head. left in your underthings, Remmicks mouth clenches as a finger runs over your thigh, to where your girdle holds up the sheer tights you wear. the girdle wraps around your waist, right up to your brassiere, and that’s what he moves for first, tearing apart the straps before exposing your chest. you squeak again at the feeling of his hands on your skin, trading down to the cords that keep your girdle tight. he’s gentle with those, letting the nails run down your sides before undoing them slowly, like he’s loosening you, wrenching you free from a cage. then, his right hand comes to rest over your neck and collarbones, pushing you down onto your back. his eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls off the item, unclipping the part that holds your tights as well. left in only those sheer tights and the slip of your underwear, he drags a nail over the cotton fabric, tugging it down your legs. then your tights, draped over the footboard. you’re bare beneath him, and he’s left in only his underthings. blushing, your hands come up to lay over your stomach, and your head turns to the side. you haven’t exactly done this before. he seems to pick up on that, the pupils dilating as he smiles softly. “don’t worry. won’t hurt, darlin’.” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you again. there it is again, that feeling that you’re melting, the one that rolls your eyes back in your head and makes your hands dart off to hold his neck. you feel his hand drift to your thigh, and the claws retreating before they’re ordinary again. the blunt and soft edge of his finger tease up and up and up until it presses into the soft hair above your warmth. Remmicks eyes don’t leave yours as he grins, running his finger down to your sensitive nub, rubbing there. your hips buck, unused to the feeling of being touched by someone else. They continue their movements until you’re a whining mess, needing release. slick thoroughly coats you, easing his movements as the finger he uses dips down to your entrance to spread the wetness. you’re getting close, you can feel it. “R-Remmick-I ca-ngh-can’t, please.” you say, eyes screwing shut. your thighs try to squeeze together, but his other hand pins one of them, and he shifts so his knee blocks the other. it’s overwhelming and unyielding as he groans, seeing your form so blissed out just from his fingers. “oh, yes you can, darlin’.” his words drip down your spine and you start to tremble, gasping as his other hand comes to your warmth, his middle and ring finger pushing against your entrance before sliding in. a choked gasp gets caught in your throat when he’s down to his knuckles.

he expertly curls his fingers into you, pressing against the sensitive wall of your warmth, only adding to your pleasure. his other hand doesn’t stop his movements on your pearl, only keeping them constant to guide you closer to the edge. they occasionally slow and speed up, always keeping you on the cusp of your release. as the pads of his fingers drag on your walls, you can’t help but grip his shoulder tightly, forgetting about the wounds there. he merely hisses and clenches his eyes shut, causing his movements to stutter. you barely register it, keening lowly as Remmick pushes you closer to the edge. “c-careful there, darlin’.” he says, leaning down to kiss your neck. “sorry.” you cry, letting your hands fall against the sheets, gripping them. you’re so so close. the hand on your clit speeds up, and you gasp heavily, hips rising. Remmicks weight merely presses against your thighs as his nose digs behind your ear. “c’mon. you’ve been good. you can have it.” that’s what you need, his permission. finally, you come undone, letting out a stifled groan as muscles clench on him, trying to milk his fingers deeper. he chuckles breathlessly as he watches your walls pulse on him, even through your aftershocks. when he finally pulls out of you, your eyes are lidded and heavy, but his are wide awake. Remmick brings his slick-coated fingers to his mouth, shutting his eyes as he savors the taste of you on his tongue. your jaw drops, and a whimper escapes your throat. when he finishes, he removes his underthings, tossing them to the side before casing your body with his own. Remmicks tongue drags a stripe up the middle of your chest, from in between your breasts, up your collarbones, up your neck, and to your chin before coming to kiss your lips. you can still taste your release on him, and your body melts again his touch. you almost don’t register his hand spreading your legs, his hips leaning against your own as he guides his large member into your cunt, splitting you open. you gasp at the feeling of him filling you, allowing him to merely slip his tongue into your mouth before flattening his weight on yours. tears well as you try to fight past the burn, the sheer stretch wrecking you. he hums against your mouth as his teeth clack against yours. the salty liquid still runs down your cheeks when he finally bottoms out, unmoving. his lips move from yours and you let out a noise mixed between a moan and sob. his tongue laps up the tears, and a hand comes to hold the side of your face. “sorry, darlin’. couldn’t help myself.” his teeth flash as he smiles, and you figure, no, he really couldn’t. he doesn’t seem the type to stop himself when he wants something. only tries to hold himself back as much as possible when it happens. he does show you sympathy, feeling slightly bad that he’s hurt you. “ya haven’t done this, have ya?” he asks, and you whimper as he shifts inside you slightly, shaking your head. “mmm. s’alright, you’ll feel better soon.” he shushes your noises, and brushes away hair from your temple as you learn to accommodate his length that’s buried in you.

slowly, the burn starts to disappear as he lets you acclimate, grinding his hips into you occasionally. those movements make you squirm, the whole of him rubbing on your sensitive walls. his eyes have turned red again and claws emerged from where his hands rest, one on your waist and one cradling your neck. “smell ya’ bleedin’, s’all.” he groans when you ask him, feeling the claws rub on your scalp. still, moments later you beg him to move, beg him to make you feel good. and who is he to decline? Remmick starts slow, pulling out only slightly before pushing back into you. the breath seems to leave your lungs with every movement, pleasured noises leaving you freely. Remmick himself is struggling to hold back, the feeling of your tight warmth enveloping him going straight to his head and back down to his member. he growls as he hears your noises, the evidence of him pleasing you. it only spurs him on though, quickening his hips. he starts to murmur sweet nothing against your ear while his chest is pressed to yours and only his hips move enough to drive back into you quickly, like he can’t stand to be separated from you too long. he can’t help but mean the things he says, not when it’s you. how you’re so sweet and good to him. how you treat him so well. like you were made for him. that’s he’s been wandering the earth looking for you. he won’t be able to leave you now. and you? you don’t think you could let him leave you either. couldn’t stand not having this kind of touch after he’s given it so freely. you feel the coil deep inside you winding up again, and start to chase your release. “Remmick.” you say, gripping his waist with one hand as his hair with the other. he grunts your name back to you, eyes screwed shut. “need-oh! need to-“ your words are cut off as he nods and mashes his lips against yours, pressing his swollen tip deeper against you, driving it in to what feels like your cervix. there isn’t a part of him that’s not touching you, and when you tug on his nape, he groans heavily, hips twitching. but Remmick is nothing if not stubborn. he won’t let you come before him. so one of his hands squeezes in between your bodies to rub furiously at your clit, causing your limbs to twitch. I doesn’t take long before you unravel, clamping down on him with a wail as you release, creating a milky circle around the base of his length. all it takes is whispering his name gently, right against the shell of his ear, and he comes too, burying his hips deep inside you to spill his release. panting fills the room as your bodies recover.

he lays beside you, sweat pooling on your skin as the night begins to retreat. the moon loses its blood red coloring and you turn to him when light shines up the horizon. he looks out the window, then back at you. fear creeps in as he rises, and your eyes widen. “are you going to leave me?” you ask, fingers still gripping his hand. Remmick shakes his head and chuckles. the burn wounds and cuts have all but healed, and the pale coloring of his skin is back to its normal state. you were right, the freckles dot his torso and and shoulders, like stars on a cloudy night, when only the occasional bright one peeks through. “reckon I couldn’t if I tried.” he says, kissing your cheek softly. he does however, move to the closet door on the other end of the room. you watch him as he opens it. his body turns back to yours as he picks up his underthings and the trousers you left, keeping the shirt on the railing of the bed. “just gotta…stay out the light.” he says, flashing his teeth in a grin. you nod slowly, covering your bare chest with sheets before watching him close the door behind him as the light shines brighter. you wonder if the sliver of light that creeps through the bottom of the door affects him. you can’t bring yourself to fix it though as sleep drags you under. you’ll fix it later.

the day has dragged out, the Sun high in the sky when you wake again. you dress slowly, pulling on fresh underwear and your girdle before slipping a blue dress that was on your dresser over your head. your eyes drift to the closet, and you press your hand against the wood. “I’m going to go to town. do you…do you need anything?” you ask, voice soft. you’re relieved to still hear him on the other side, grateful he wasn’t just some dream. “just that pretty little cunt on my mouth again.” he retorts, and you can practically hear the grin in his words. you blush and glare at the wood before kicking it softly with the toe of your shoe. “hey now darlin’, that ain’t very nice.” rolling your eyes, you leave the house and head into town. you spend the afternoon there, wandering the stores and halls. you picked up a few essentials for the week before the fabric store caught your eye. and an idea appeared in your head. the storewoman comes to the front, smiling at you softly. “I need your thickest fabric. something dark, blocks out light.” you say, keeping your groceries close to you. she nods and turns to the rack of fabrics she has. “trouble sleeping at night? moon to bright?” she chuckles at her words before pulling down the fabric, thumping it on the table. “something like that.” you say, smiling back at her.

that night, when the suns retreated and only the blue and purple embers of the sunset burn, Remmick comes out. he’s shirtless, suspenders over his shoulders as he finds you on the kitchen, yards of fabric on the table next to a heavy pair of scissors. your eyes trace over his form, and his eyes that dance with amusement. “up for a bit of curtain hanging?” you murmur, taking a sip of coffee out of your mug. Remmick chuckles and steps closer. “you might just be the death of me, darlin’.” you look down into your mug. “thank that crimson moon that I like you.” a hand lifts your jaw, and you feel teeth run over your lips before they press over your neck. his lips come to rest on your pulse, tongue darting out occasionally. he’s dropped to his knees, better able to hold your thighs in his large hands. then, they drift to under your skirt, followed by his mouth. thank that crimson moon indeed.

[rav1377]

R and R

Sebastian Josef Krueger x Konig x fem!reader

Tw:fluff, sweet things, kissing, then SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral (f receiving), threesome, two in one, a lot of overstim, etc

Konigs calf rested over your stomach as your head laid on Sebastian’s thighs. It was one of the rare days the three of you all got to be together, and everyone wanted to savor it. the day had been spent sleeping on the couch together or watching some trashy movie, the perfect lazy day. Konigs leg shifted so he could sit up, leaning to press soft kisses on your neck. you sighed softly before reaching your hands down to tangle in his hair. Sebastian’s own hand traced the crown of your head, rubbing softly. the air outside drifted in, cooling the room. they needed this. you needed this. this peace and comfort that couldn’t be found in the field. Sebastian tugged on Konigs hair softly, a signal that his turn was over. then he shifted to where he sat up as well, being able to now kiss the shell of your ear. Konigs mouth drifted to your stomach, licking at the soft skin there before pressing soft kisses. Sebastian’s mouth traced your jaw, and you tilted your head back to allow him the space. with both their mouths on your body, their hands roaming the planes of your skin, it creates a dull sound in your head, tuning everything out except for the soft touches. little grunts and whimpers exit your throat, and you do nothing to stop them.

Konigs had drifts to where your thigh meets your pelvis, and he traces the skin almost reverently until the pads of his fingers brush the soft fabric your your underwear. then, they quickly hook into the band and yank down on the material, right down to your knees. it only allows the large man to bury his nose in between your thighs before he huffs a large breathe, inhaling your scent. Sebastian chuckles lowly and pulls away from your neck, and with the cool hair hitting your body, you can’t help but squirm. you feel Konigs nose dig into the soft hair of your mound before pressing deeper, nudging your nub. the touch send sparks of pleasure up your spine, and you squirm more, trying to lean back into Sebastian. but he’s not any nicer, merely wrapping a large arm over yours, pinning them to your waist, immobilizing you. his other hand comes under your hips to push them up, letting Konig have more access to your warmth. with the new position, Konig has no trouble letting his crooked and broken nose lay flat abasing your sensitive spot, letting his chin press abasing your entrance as his tongue runs over the smooth skin almost lazily. he’s so close to where you need him, but he won’t give it to you. wants to hear the words from his lips that you need, no want him like this. “think he’s waiting on something.” Krueger murmurs lowly in your ear as he watches the scene with hooded eyes. your body still twitches in his arms, and your chest heaves with stifled moans as you try to keep quiet. “Konig-please, w-want it…hah, please Konig, just a little bit, pl-nghhhhh!” the words are cut off as you feel his tongue finally dig into your warmth, rubbing on your walls and trying to itch deeper into you. Sebastian holds your body with both arms now, kissing your temple as Konig brings you closer to falling apart. a strangled cry leaves your lips as Konig nods his head, causing his nose to rub against your sensitive nub. combine that with his tongue deep inside you, and you’re so close. fingers twitching, Konigs hands dig into your hips as he eats you like you’re the best meal he’s had. it’s unforgiving and harsh, trying to savor every moment he has buried in your thighs. it’s all coming together, you just need one last thing to send you over the edge. Sebastian sees this, and removes one of his hands to travel to Konigs scalp, digging into the hair before pulling. “cmon. Give our girl what she wants. she did so well.” he says, and Koenig groans at the sensation of the throbbing pain. you unravel, feeling the vibrations of his mouth on your warmth, echoing through your body as your muscles loose control of themselves, becoming tense before going limp in Sebastian’s arms. Konig pulls away finally, mouth and chin glistening with your release as you both pant. Sebastian is the unfazed one, cooing at you and Konig in German, praising how good both you did. you see Konigs eyes go dark as he pulls you forward, chest to chest. then, as if communicating telepathically, Sebastian reclines on his back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

then, with Konig kneeling between Sebastian’s legs, he lifts you by your thighs, and you have no choice but to squeak and clutch his bicep. then, you feel another set of hands holding your waist, and your eyes widen as you realize what’s to come. “no! Seb, please, just five minutes, please!” you cry, fighting the strong grasps. but neither of them are having it, and your sensitive cunt is placed firmly on Sebastian’s face. your chest is still pressed against Konigs, and he grins before catching your lips in his to silence the howl of pleasure that you let out when Sebastian’s tongue runs over your clit. he flattens the muscle, and your hips buck from the sensation of fully being on him. the large man in front of you hums. “there..use him, he wants it.” Konigs encouraging words, paige with the large hands on your thighs, guide your hips into grinding on Kruegers tongue, letting the rough buds catch on your nub. tears pool in your eyes from the overstimulating feeling, and your tight hole clenched on nothing as your eyes screw shut, trying to make you come again. Konig doesn’t stop whispering praises in your ear, and you can smell your release on his chin. now you’re coating your other boyfriends face in it. the coil in your tightens again, and you try to buck your hips faster, unsuccessfully. so the two men help you out, working you in tandem and your legs begin to tremble, a sign of your release. “h-hah, Seb, yes! r-right there, nghh!” your words are garbled and halfway moaned as you ride his face, and he hums softly, egging you on. but it’s when his hands pinch your waist and trace over the soft and sensitive skin there than has you jumping, allowing him to pull you closer to his mouth before you unravel. Kruger smiles, letting his teeth press against your nub as you release with a groan. your body falls forward onto Konigs chest, and you’re lifted to only be placed on Sebastian’s thighs. you hear him lick his lips, smacking them for any remnant of your slick, causing blood to rush to your face. he sits up behind you, chest pressed against your back before tilting your chin to let his lips press on yours. the sandwich you’re in now, in between the two Austrians, has your body turning to jello, eyes drooping. you need them.

with fluttering eyes, your hand pushes Koenig until he’s flat on the couch, erection twitching under his boxers. swiftly, your fingers yank down the material to free his length, and you pull h the cloth down to his ankles. Sebastian’s hands hold your waist, and steady and guiding presence. Konig on the other hand is merely happy to be under you, under your gaze as your hips lift to let your warmth sink down on him. with a loud groan, the man beneath you twitches when you engulf him down to his hilt, aided by your previous releases. your cunt is filled with him, pulsing with warmth. leaning forward, you let your chest press on Konigs, exposing your back and holes to Sebastian. licking a stripe up Konigs neck, his adams apple bobs and his lashes flutter. your head tilts back to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “want you too, baby, please.” the words are hushed and low, and the other man’s eyes widen before flitting down your body. then, one hand tugs his boxers down while the other reaches to hold your waist, fingers plastered over where Konig holds it as well. his hand guides his dripping member to your tighter hole, teasing the entrance. he gathers a glob of spit in his mouth, ready to wet your hole, but your words cut him off. “no! S-Seb please, want you both.” he falters. both of them. at the same time. he thinks you’re past two orgasms must’ve made you delirious. him and Konig are not small men, both hard to take on their own, but both? still, he can’t stop how more blood rushes to his cock when he sees your warmth clenching on Konig, showing what little room is left. still, you’d stretch, right? that’s what he tried to tell himself as he lined himself up with you, brushing against Konig. he pushes in, an inch in, and you keen, muscles contracting against the intrusion. another inch and your face is buried in Konigs neck. the other man beneath you is groaning himself, feeling you tighten as Krueger fills you. the sensation of another cock filling you and rubbing on his own, he groans beneath you.

a pained whimper leaves your lips, the sound echoing in Konigs ear as Sebastian bottoms out. everyone’s panting, the feeling of three bodies this close is too much. you’ve throughly lost your mind, eyes rolling back into your head as little whimpers escape your mouth. you can’t even think straight, and yet Sebastian moves inside you, pressing into your sensitive spot. it pushes Konigs tip downward, against your walls, causing you to gasp. then, he starts moving. Sebastian sets a brutal pace that has you and Konig crying out, but at least Konig has the sense to stop your body from squirming, forcing you to take each inch that you’re given. Konig groans on a harsh thrust, and grips Kruegers arm. “Scheise! S-slow down, damn not so-ngh-not so, she’s squeezing so tight.” Krueger merely huffs and his grip tightens on your waist. he can sense you’re close. he is too, ready to spill into your stretched warmth. your words are muffled and slurred as your mouth and tongue laps at Konigs neck, so the man pulls you by your nape, lolling your head up. “p-please, Seb, ple-nghh, yes!” your words are garbled with pleasure as you release, squeezing the life out of Sebastian. he can’t take the pulse of your warmth clenching on him, and he comes with a low whimper, pressing his mouth against your shoulder. your muscles are limp beneath Kruegers weight, and yet, Konig bucks up into you, a whimpering mess as he’s near overcome with overstimulation. your warmth clenching and squeezing, then Sebastian’s length grinding on his own, adding an extra factor of stimulation. still, he’s so close to his release, and your mouth finds the soft skin of his neck, licking it delicately, causing him to moan out. then, Sebastian’s own mouth comes down to his other shoulder, egging him on in German, telling him to fuck you like he means it, to fill you like he should. then, Kruger bites into the pale skin of his shoulder, and Kongo comes undone, filling your creamy warmth with his white release. he pants as his arms go limp, letting you squirm. the three of you stay still for a while, enjoying the warmth and closeness. then, Krueger sits up, pulling out of you gently. his arms pull you off of the large man, silencing your whimpers with his mouth before cradling you in his arms. the mixture of their spend leaks out of you, and tears pool in your eyes as Sebastian carried you to the bathroom. Konig isn’t far behind, turning on the water for the tub, letting it warm.

they both care for you. they both please you however they can. why would you deserve the love of either of them. to have them so close to you when others out there don’t get their lovers to return from the battlefields. you can’t take it, and tears fall down your cheeks, sniffles clogging your nose. Krueger eyes widen as he holds you,and Kongo turns to shush you, looking down at your form that’s pressed against Sebastian’s. “what’s wrong.” he demands, stroking your cheek. you merely shake your head and turn into Sebastian. “just glad you’re here.” Konig looks up at the other man, but Krueger is just as helpless as the other Austrian in this situation. they both returned. safe and unharmed. Sebastian lowers you into the tub, and you sigh at its warmth. Konig follows, steeping in where his knees face yours. Sebastian sits on the floor beside the two of you, running his hand over your head. hell get his turn soon, when Koenig finishes. the other man tells stories of the deployment he just returned from, the jokes told late at night, the laughs that echoed in with the sound of bullets. the hot blood that coated his hands when one of his soldiers went down. their cries as he stroked their hand, accompanying them to their death. it was what happened. and you were going to be there for both of them when they came home. help them relax. help them recover.

[rav1377]

Remmick Fic

help, I started reading this remmick fic where reader was the preachers daughter and she met remmick in the woods one day but he didn’t touch her, and then she met him once more by a creek and then like she basically crept out to him when he was watching her from the garden, then she told him to come back the next night while her parents were at the church evening service? That’s as far as I got but it was some beautiful words and story telling, and I just KNOW that there was some horrendously good smut following, I just didn’t get a chance to finish the fic! So if someone could help me out I’ll love you forever 🥺

[rav1377]

Some Clear Night

pt.1 ——> Some Sunny Day

Don Hume x fem!reader

tw:smutttttt!smutty utty. Not insanely freaky, first times, unprotected, oral, sweet stuff, etc etc

“and through! and through! and through!” Bobby’s shout cut through the air like the husky clipper cut through the water. you looked up from your bench inside, seeing the boat move like it was the fastest thing in the world. they were running basic practice drills, supervised by coach Boles. Professor Ulbrickson came up behind you, sitting on the bench. “how do they look?” he asks, looking out at the water. you glance up as well. “what, the papers or the boys?” Ulbrickson looks down at the half graded English papers in your lap. “both.” you smile and turn to him. “boys look great, it’s the papers that could use some work.” Ulbrickson huffs. “well. good thing I got my assistant to save me from grading them.” you roll your eyes and go back to fixing grammar mistakes with a pen. Ulbrickson watches the boys disappear from view of the shell house. “so. you and Don, huh?” he asks, looking over at you again. your lips part slightly as you glare at him. “who?” you ask. Ulbrickson shrugs. “Stub let it slip.” rolling your eyes, you turn back to the papers. “that’s good. for you both.” Ulbrickson nudges your shoulder and a small grin creeps on your face, grateful for the approval. Professor Ulbrickson was your favorite teacher, and Dons coach. his approval meant a lot. even if you and Don had been together for months. you had to hand it to Stub, he could keep a secret for a while.

——————————————————————————————————

your night was uneventful for the most part, you’d finished the papers, gone back to the campus to turn them into Professor Ulbricksons office, and eventually headed back to your dorm to rest. the floor you were on had all single rooms, with a communal bathroom, so you got your own space. a knock sounded at your door, rousing you from your book. a giggle and a laugh. your name being shouted. you know that voice. Lorraine. opening the door, you look at your red headed friend. “y/n! there’s a boy here for you!” she exclaims, gripping your hands in her own. “what?” you cry, pulling on her grasp as she tries to drag you down the stairs. “a boy! he said his name is Don! hurry, you can’t keep him waiting!” she’s in distress now, and you laugh. “it’s okay Lorraine, he can wait a little longer.” you reply, smoothing out your dress as you walk at a slow pace down the stairs. and Don is indeed waiting outside the dormitory entrance. when you slip out with a light push for Lorraine, he grins. the girl behind you giggles once more before shutting the door behind you. “she’s funny.” Don says, holding out his arm. you slip your arm through it and let him walk you to one of the dining halls that have cheap meals. as the night wears on, the two of you sit across from each other, drinking watery soup and day-old bread. but neither of you could care, too absorbed in the other.

you can’t take your eyes off him tonight. something’s shifted inside you, the feeling for him more intense. it’s all heightened. each swipe of his thumb over your knuckle, each sound out of his mouth, every movement of his body. when you finish your meals, Don walks you back to your dorm with a strong hand on your back. stopping on the sidewalk behind the building, the sidewalk beneath your second floor dorm, you smile up at him, embracing him close, feeling his chest against yours. sneakily, you trace your hands up to rest on either side of his neck before pressing a kiss in between his collarbones, right above where his collar stops and neck begins. then one on his adams apple. you feel it bob slightly as he gasps. a murmur of your name. hands on you waist and lips on your temple. “Don.” you whine his name lowly. “I…” your words fall short as you try to describe what you’re trying to say. a throbbing built up deep inside you. you need him. “what is it?” he asks softly, pulling away to get a good look at your ashamed face. “please.” you whisper, and his eyebrows furrow. “please, need you Don.” you say, brining your palms down to rest on his chest. “oh.” he says, eyes turning lidded and breathing just a tad heavier. “w-we shouldn’t. we’re not married.” he replies, cupping your hands in his. “you’re a lady, you shouldn’t, not with me, not he-“ you cut him off with a kiss, and he melts, silencing his words. “Don. I want you.” you say, reassuring him, but the next words are rushed out just as quickly. “unless, of course you really don’t want to or anything I mean.” Don shakes his head and squeezes your hands. “no I…I want to.” he says, and you nod. “well, any ideas on how to get up to my room?” you ask, gazing up at your window. Don huffs and nods. “a few.”

your room is cold, and thankfully empty when you clamber through the window, Don behind you. you laugh and collapse onto the floor, Don landing right on top of you with an oomph. you breathe out his name and he chuckles, cradling your head. his lips press against your cheek, traveling to beneath your ear. with a gasp, your lips part and he takes the opportunity to capture them in his own before pulling away to sit up. you travel with him, clambering onto his lap. as his hands travel to rest on your hips, he pulls away from your kiss. “wait. there’s something you should know.” he murmurs, and you look up at him. “I haven’t…I haven’t done this before.” he says, lashes fluttering down like he’s scared. you chuckle and tease his earlobe with your teeth, causing him to shudder. “ I haven’t either.” you say back, pulling away. “yeah but…you’re okay with it?” he asks, and you nod. “more than okay.” that might as well be all the permission he needs before he’s leaning away to strip his jacket off, practically ripping off his tie. you breathe out heavily before removing your own blouse. your fingers nimbly reach out to undo Dons shirt buttons, and he pants at the sight of you. the curve of your shoulders and breasts, the sheen of your skin. your eyes dance down his own body now that his shirts been pushed off his shoulders. the strong tone of each muscle from hours of rowing. his pale skin, dotted with freckles. your eyes dart to one below his navel. his hands fiddle with the zipper on the side of your skirt, and you nod. Don pulls it down gently before standing, bringing you up with him. you pull down your skirt slowly, eyes stuck on Dons as he unbuttons his own slacks.

he takes a few steps back in just his boxers, sitting on the bed. his hands find yours, tugging you on top of him as he lays down completely. you pull off your brassiere, letting him see your bare chest. you already can feel his aching member beneath you, twitching. then, he sits up again, keeping you perched on his lap. you rise on your knees to get your panties off, bare warmth flush on his strong thigh. you whimper as your nub grinds on his skin, throwing your head back. Don groans and gives a noise of affirmation as you continue your movements. “there you go, good girl.” he whispers, and you keen at the name. you’re getting closer, surprised at how close you are to coming from just his thigh. it makes you blush for what will be in store later. Dons large hands rest on your waists, pulling you down on him further to let you get more friction. “ngh, Don!” you cry out, eyes screwing shut as you’re pushed closer to the edge. “come on, doll, come on.” he murmurs, rocking you in a perfect rhythm. his lips trace your clavicle and you whimper, clutching his biceps. he grunts as your nails dig into his skin, but not from pain. his lashes flutter shut again and he breathes heavily, trying to stop himself from coming in his pants. he distantly hears you calling on his name repeatedly, and he huffs, rocking you quicker on his pale thigh. your pearl catches and grinds on him perfectly, and you finally unravel, a high noise leaving your throat as you come. “that’s good. so good, so good.” Don runs his lips under your chin, down your jaw. your body goes limp, slumping against Dons chest. your fingers relax on his arms, drifting to his abdomen. you hum, rocking your hips through the last of your aftershocks. Dons hands drift to under your ass, picking you up to lay you on your back. your eyes drift to his face, running over his flushed cheeks and lidded eyes. down to his heaving chest that’s dotted with freckles. down to his navel. down to the waistband of his boxers. he’s sat on his knees, tucked in between your legs. his eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls of his last item of clothing, leaving them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

his member bobs free and your eyes widen. he’s big. bigger than you thought. you feel your own cheeks heat and you look away. Dons hands find yours and squeeze. “you okay?” he whispers, trying to get your gaze back on him. you nod and smile back up at him softly. “just…be gentle. I-I’ve heard it can hurt.” you say, stroking his knuckles. “of course.” he murmurs, leaning down to cradle your body against his own, to kiss your lips gently. your chest presses against his, thighs knocking together. then he pulls away gently, to run his fingers in between your folds, spreading the wetness there before pushing his middle finger in slowly. your lips part as you feel the intrusion. “Don.” you murmur, and his finger slips in to the root. “you’re okay.” he whispers, and you nod, tilting your head back. the pad of his finger rubs on the spongy spot inside you, and you whine softly, hands drifting to his nape, tugging on the short hair there. the feeling isn’t painful, more different and unusual. but it feels so good, to have him to do this. with his body pressed against yours, breath fanning against your cheek. another finger slides in, eased by your slick. Don has to work this one in, easing it past your tense walls. when he finally slips in, filling you, another gasp leaves your lips when he moves it, building the tight feeling in your stomach. it builds up and up and up, filling your chest. it’s so different than earlier, making you twitch and moan. you think you’re getting close, the feeling being so much different, and your hands tug on the hair in your hands again. Don groans in pleasure again, grinding his length on the soft skin of your stomach.

“D-Don, not. not yet.” you breathe out, trying to get his eyes off where his fingers push into your warmth. so you pull his hair again gently, pulling his head back so his eyes look into yours. he seems to hear you again, and he nods, panting. his fingers withdraw, and he shifts so his tip presses against your folds, catching on your nub. he looks at you once more, and you nod, running your fingers down to his chest, reassuring him. then, a hand slips down to guide his member into you. the stretch is jarring. this hurts a bit. his cock spears you open, sliding into you inch by inch. he’s bigger than you thought. a broken noise escapes Dons throat as he clutches to you tightly. “ohh, ngh y-you’re doing so good.” he says. your eyes clench shut to try and hide the tears that are swelling. he’s not even halfway in. the salty liquid drips down you cheek and your lips part to exhale shakily, broken and heavy. Dons eyes blink open and he finally sees the state you’re in, pausing completely. “doll?” he whispers, bringing a hand your cheek to wipe the tears. your hand rests over the one that’s comforting you. “m’ okay. promise. just…” you words trail off as you shake your head, smiling softly at the man above you. “no. we-we can stop now. it hurts doesn’t it?”he asks lowly. “no! it’s just…bigger…than I thought.” the words are hushed as your eyes drift down to where you and Don are joined. he blushes, right down to his collarbone, and the hand on his travels to his face. “sorry.” he murmurs, and you shake your head. “I’m not used to it.” you say, and the man nods, convincing himself that he’s not hurting you.

still, you see that hesitation. the waiting. “how bout you make me used to it, Don?” you say, tilting his chin up. his eyes dig into yours and he doesn’t break away as he pushes in deeper until he’s buried inside of you. both of you are panting, chests touching. Dons own eyes are squeezed shut tightly. “Are you okay?” Dons eyes blink open and he nods. “feels different. so good, like you were made for me.” he murmurs, kissing your cheek softly. something unplaceable blossoms in your chest, something akin to pride. he’s yours now. and you are his. no going back. “made to take me.” he grits out, teeth clenching as your warmth grips onto his length like a vice, pulling him deeper. his hips grind against your pelvis, letting you get used to the feeling of having all of him fill you. it just builds that coil up again, winding it tighter and tighter as that sensitive spot that only he can seem to reach is kissed by his tip each movement. “f-feels good, Donny.” the words are whispered and weak as your nose nudges against his ear, and your met with a grunt. he’s getting close too. his thrusts pull out of you more and more until he’s pulling out halfway every time before pressing back into you at a quick pace. “nghh ha’fuck! I’m close doll.” he groans out, fingers holding your hips in a death grip. your jaw falls open and your eyes roll back into your head. the pleasures getting overwhelming, and hearing the curse fall from his lips just gets you closer, wanting to please him more, push him further than he has before. the quick snap of his hips bullies his length inside you, and you finally come with a strangled noise, the feeling overwhelming. white spots dance in your eyes as you gasp, and you can feel yourself clenching on Dons cock. above you, the man pants before his hips stutter inside you, and it’s one more thrust before he comes undone himself, groaning your name. you feel his hot spend leak into you, filling up your warmth. his body goes limp on top of yours, his weight a comforting presence. you can still feel him throb inside you, twitching and spouting release occasionally. his lips trace over and find yours, kissing them softly. gently, you tug his bottom lip in between you teeth and bite before retreating.

his body shifts of yours and onto the space in the bed beside you. tucking your body closer to his, Don moves his arm so your face can rest under his neck, flush with him. “the right thing to do would be to marry you.” he whispers into the night when both of you have come down from your highs. he’s still deep inside you, keeping you filled and content. “oh would it now?” you ask, letting your right hand drift to rest in between his shoulder blades. “think we’re past that,” Don huffs before continuing. “please. let me marry you. call you my wife.” he says, letting his lips trace to your forehead. it wouldn’t hurt. you’d get to call him yours. no one else’s, yours. you’d bear his name, sure, but he’d bear the mark of love youd given him. “okay.” you whisper, and Don holds you closer, eyes wide and happy. the frown on his face titling upward as he turns his face into your neck.

——————————————————————————————————

it’s early in the morning when Don creeps back into his room. Stubs waited up for him, and grins when he sees Don’s disheveled hair. “good for you.” he chuckles before rising and clapping Don on the back. Don merely stays quiet and sits on Stubs bed, the tall man sitting beside him. “she doing okay?” he asks, and Don nods. “sore I think.” Stub nods as well. “that’s normal. hey you should let me join next time.” he wiggles his eyebrows, making the joke clear. Don smirks and pushes him lightly. “In your dreams McMillian.” Stub acts like he’s been killed, rolling off the bed and onto his back on the ground. “yeah. I dream about Don Hume and y/n l/n, and all the things that’d happen if I joined them.” Don rises, setting his coat on the chair next to Stubs bed. “keep dreaming.” Stub watches Don, the controlled actions and tenseness. “what happened. you’re acting strange.” he demands, watching the dark haired man she’d his outer layers. “think coach’ll let me skip today?” he asks softly. Stub scoffs. “maybe. why?” Don shakes his head, “need to go to the courthouse.” he says, sitting on his own bed now. Stubs left with those words, ponders on them. the his eyes go wide. “ah. so I’ll be dreaming about Mr. and Mrs. Don Hume.”

——————————————————————————————————-

BONUS SCENE!

“ow! that’s my eye, doll.” Don whisper yells at you as your shoe digs into his forehead. “sorry!” you reply, trying to move your foot up. you’re teetered on Dons shoulders, trying to reach the second floor window. “ah! that’s my calf!” you cry as Dons large fingers pinch at the skin of your plush legs. “sorry. there’s not many places to hold!” he calls, struggling to keep you steady. “it’s not stable.” he says, and you scoff, “hold higher up!” you say, and Don blushes, trying to keep his head down ass his hands slip higher to creep under your skirt and to your thighs, now more stable. “my ear, doll!” he says when your foot slips. “‘m trying!” you whine, raising your left leg to rest on a brick. Dons had moves to support your weight, resting under your thigh, and you let your right foot raise shakily to the windowsill, lifting it open to slip in. Don clambers up the wall, his much longer limbs finding better footholds, his much stronger body pulling him up with ease. it’s all great. until his collapses right on top of you. but you laugh, and Don smiles.

AN:owie….my fingers…ANWHWAH I LOVED THIS ONE I HAD AMAZING TIME WRITING IN, STUB IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARECTERS KF YOU CANT TELL, TRUING TO DO A FIC W HIM LATER, MAYBE EVEN DO THE THREE WAY I WAS HINTING TO? THOUHHTS ON THAT? anywho! Hope y’all enjoyed!

@sassyandclassy94 for tags! Your…well-endowed…Don Hume smut is here!

[rav1377]

Some Sunny Day

this will be a two part story! part two (w smut) Some Clear Night

Don Hume x fem!reader

tw:tooth rotting fluff, first date, meet cutes! anxiety from don but over all really cute things.

Don looked at you from across the large dining hall. the curve of your nose pointed downward as your eyes drank in the words of whatever book you were reading. in between small bites of food, you’d smile and grin to yourself at whatever was happening, thinking no one else was looking. but Don Hume was. as he ate his food slowly that day, next to Bobby and Stub, subtle glances were thrown in your direction. he knew who you were. yes, he did indeed. knew your name. your major. what classes you took. the latter only because you took a lot of the same classes he did. you sat in front of him during geology. he’d watch you then too. the shine of your hair, the curve of your chin when you turned to the left to watch the professor. so long story short, Don Hume knew who you were. but he’d never thought it’d go farther than that. knowing you at a distance. wasn’t sure if he wanted it to go farther than that. he wasn’t exactly the best person to be around. he knew he was too quiet for many. knew he wasn’t as handsome as some of the other boys on the rowing team. knew that he would never be the first pick.

“Don.” Stubs voice cut through the other chatter. “Don. Donny!” the giant of a man snaps in front of Dons face, forcing him out of his thoughts. Stub throws a knowing glance between you and his friend. “why don’t you talk to her?” he asks before taking a bite of green beans. Bobby cuts in around the mashed potatoes in his mouth. “yea Don! just go talk to her, we’re not blind.” Bobby explains, swallowing his food. Don flushes and looks down at his plate, shaking his head. Stub nudges his shoulder. “you could use a girl, y’know.” Bobby talks over Stubs comforting words. “ah hell, Don! you don’t talk to anyone besides us two most days, you don’t ever say you fancy anyone, you don’t do anything besides rowing, I’d agree with Stub!” he exclaims, setting down his fork with a clatter. he’s got that look in his eyes, like he’s planning something. “you need a girl.” Don still shakes his head. “you could just say hi. ask her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee or lunch.” Stub offers, his jaw moving tightly as he tries to help his friend. the man knows he’s lovesick over this girl, seen the way he looked at her. but he just needed the push in the right direction. “a cup of coffee? what is this, your moms drawing room?”Bobby cuts in, laughing at Stubs words, only making the tall man glare at the much shorter one. “y’know I’ll bet you five dollars you wouldn’t ask her out after all.” he says, standing with his plate before waltzing off. Stub sits next to Don, throwing small glances at him. he’s eerily silent now, not just his normal quiet. “do you think I have a chance?” Don asks softly, head tilting so he can look at you once more. Stub nods immediately. “course you do. don’t listen to bobby.” he says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “you want to talk to her?” he asks, and Don nods. “introduce yourself. compliment her or something. ask her out.” the dark haired man nods. “well wh-sigh what am I even asking her out to?” Dons tone is defeated and helpless. “lunch, dinner, midnight snack, it doesn’t matter, Don. you just got to be yourself. and y’know, talk to her.” Stub nods once and digs back into his plate, looking at you as well.

he can see why don would like you. you’ve got a kind look. like you’re pleasant to be around. when he looks back at Don, it’s like he’s looking at a helpless puppy. “Don. do it now, or you won’t ever.” he says, forcing his friend to look at him. “plus, don’t you want to put Bobby out of five dollars?” Stub smirks at that, causing Don to give him a glare. Don stands shakily, feeling his forehead bead with sweat. Stub glances up before standing as well, helping the man prepare. Dons eyes flit between you and Stub as he wipes his brow. Stub straightens his jacket and tie, smoothing out wrinkles. Don nods. Stub grins a toothy smile and moves from Dons path to you. he looks on eagerly as he takes a few steps, pride blooming. then it halts like a record. Don turns back quickly, fists clenched. “oh no you don’t.” Stub says sternly, turning him around by the shoulders and pushing him to you. Don stumbled forward before righting himself and walking over the last couple steps to you.

you might’ve just seen the most handsome man in your life. his dark hair hangs in front of his face a bit, covering up his eyes only slightly. his form is strong, forearms toned with muscles and kissed by the sun. his skin is pale still, dotted with freckles, wait you know this boy. Don. seen him in the halls of the university, in your geology class. you always tried to turn your head to get a better look at him without being obvious. tried to throw him subtle looks while you walked by him. tried so crane you head to peak at him during rowing practice when you helped Professor Ulbrickson with grading papers. you’d always sit on the bench inside the shell house, peering over the lake as you heard the professor, well, coach, yell at the boys. you always stayed hidden from them though. they weren’t hidden from you though. no, the practice gave you the perfect opportunity to watch them, watch Don be the stroke, setting the pace of the boat with each strong roll of his wrists and push of his legs. yes, you know this boy. oh gosh, why is he talking to you of all people? shouldn’t he be with the other rowing boys? when did his eyes begin to look at you like that? “hello.” His voice is quiet yet sturdy. heat rushes to your face. “hi.” you reply, shutting your book. “I’m Don.” he murmurs, arms stiff at his side. you reply with your name. “I uh. I-it’s nice weather isn’t it?” he says, and you nod. “it’s a real sunny day.” you reply. he nods and looks over at a window, that seemingly permeant frown still on his face. you like it though. his gaze flits back to you. “wouldyouwantogetcoffeewithme.” the words are hurried and low, like he was scared to say them. taken aback, your lips part as you gaze up at him. he wants to go out with you? more heat rushes to your cheeks. maybe he likes you! but you try and clear your mind. can’t leave him without a answer after all. “that’d be wonderful, Don.” you reply, smiling softly. the boy huffs out a sigh and nods, eyes playful now. “I-is Friday after class okay?” he asks. you nod again, folding your hands together. “great.” is all he says before he turns on his heel and walks back to a tall man by the dining hall entrance. it’s Stub. he’s smiling at Don, clapping him on the shoulder. they exchange words, and Don throws you one last glance over the shoulder before leaving.

“Ah, I knew you could do it Donny!” Stub says, chuckling at the red faced man.

“I think I need to puke.”

——————————————————————————————————

Friday came too fast. Dons palms were sweaty as he tied his tie for the fifth time this morning. the cracked mirror in the shared dorm showed his form, face riddled with anxiety and that frown. sweater was running from the small sink in the tiny bathroom as Stub finished brushing his teeth. in his tank top and slacks, stub is every inch a handsome man. “Don, it’ll be fine. she likes you, you like her.” he says as he buttons up a shirt. Don glances over his shoulder and nods once, huffing in a breath. when they leave for the many classes of the day, something itches in Dons brain, the never ending trace of fear. his two o clock geology class rolls around and he spots you walking to the door from the other direction. so like a schoolboy, he quickens his pace just slightly to get the door, holding it open for you with a nod before looking down again. “thank you don.” you say, smiling at him before looking away, blush coming to your cheeks. the man almost melts in his shoes. he’s never loved the way his name has sounded more. loved the way the vowels curved out of your lips. the class drags on too slowly, he can feel his heart beating quicker and quicker in his chest as the clock ticks to three, the end of the lecture. as the class dismissed, he managed to squeeze next to you, letting the door file out with other students before facing you in the hall. “well. uh, shall we?” Don asks lowly, offering his elbow to you. his stomach does leaps when you smile and nod, slipping your arm in the crook of his.

he guides you off the campus, onto the train car, and into downtown Seattle. the cafe sits nestled on some not so busy street where the inside is blessedly warm as you sneak into a small table. when you move to take a seat, all the things that Stub drilled into him that morning appear in his head, and he pulls out your chair, sliding you close to the table when you’re seated. he slides into the other chair, watching silently as you remove your coat, left in a baby blue dress. his hands rub against each other, fidgeting to remove tension. the waiter comes over, and the two of you murmur out just a cup of coffee at the same time. with a chuckle, you glance at Don who’s eyes widen slightly. “sorry. a cup of coffee for both of us.” he says, nodding at the waiter. the man leaves, and Don tries to look back at you with a more confident look. “thank you for bringing me here.” you say gratefully, keeping the conversation light. “thank you for coming.” is Dons reply, his face angled to the table now. his hands come up to rest on the table and the silence is loud. so you do the one thing you can think to do, the one thing you want to do. your fingers find Dons, resting a top of them and wrapping around them. Dons head lifts up quickly and blood rushes to his cheeks. “I wanted to come.” you say, nodding reassuringly. the man across from you nods again, not letting go of your hands. “how about Professor Cartwrights lecture today?” he asks, trying to talk with you. you let out a small snort. “I thought he’d never stop talking!” you exclaimed, lighting up. “well when he gets on the properties of magnesium, I think we can expect him to never be quiet.” he replies, smiling softly.

the hours tick by like minutes, and Don, much to his own surprise as well, talking with you for every second. the waiter comes by with the bill finally. Dons eyes widen when he sees the time. it’s almost seven thirty. “I-we should head back.” he says, standing. your eyes soften and you nod, standing as well. Don stands behind you, helping put on your coat. his breath fans across the nape of your neck, and your lashes flutter. he walks you out into the Washington night, helping you board onto the train car again. his knees knock against yours as he holds your hand in silence, heart swelling as you chatter on, filling the conversation. the university campus is dark and not crowded as Don walks you slowly to your dorm. the lantern light illuminates the doorway of the entrance when you stop. your nose tips up to look up at him, and not just past him or through him, but at him. “thank you, Don. I had a lovely time, truly.” you say, smiling as you rise on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Dons system seems to freeze, and he turns beet red. but before you can enter fully into the dorm, he reaches out and grips your wrist, pulling you gently back to him. “th-thank you. I enjoyed being with you.” he says, trying to drag on this moment. your lip tugs upward and he sees your teeth poking through in a smile. still, he doesn’t let go of your wrist. “could I kiss you?” he asks in almost a whisper, eyes hopeful. now it’s your turn to blush. instead of answering, you step closer to him, your bodies almost touching, allowing him to pull you in an embrace. Dons hands cup your cheeks, and he looks over every feature and every mark you bear. then, slowly, and so gently, he presses his lips in a chaste kiss against yours.

“thank you.” he murmurs lowly against your forehead before placing a kiss there.

“thank you.” you say back, bringing your entertained hands to your lips so you can kiss his knuckles once before retreating to your dorm.

——————————————————————————————————

Stub lays on his back, awake as he waits up for Don. they didn’t have practice every other Friday, thank goodness. so this date worked out for everyone really. the door finally creaks open and he’s met with a truly smiling Don, grin plastered on his face and his head up on cloud nine. it’s a bashful smile, and Stub grins as he sits up. “went good, i assume?” he asks, watching as Don plops down on the bed beside him. “went great, Stub. she’s incredible.” he replies, rubbing a hand over his face. the taller man chuckles and reaches for his wallet on the beside table. pulling out four dollar bills, he plops them on Dons chest. “They’re from Bobby. he lost the bet, obviously. I took the liberty of taking a buck for me, since I helped.” Stub says playfully, laying back down. Don smiles and folds the bills, putting them in his wallet. “y’know Don, that might’ve been the most words I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth at once. this girl might do wonders for you.” Stub jokes, only to be met with an extinguished light and the cool darkness.

an:eeeeeekkkk! This was so cute (to me at least) I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I did! The next part will be out soon! (Tw smut). Anywho, don’t hesitate to send in more asks or stuff for whatever! tbh I’m thinking of adding a fic for Stub now! he’s so pookie. anyway!

-cass💕:D

@forsythiagalt and @sassyandclassy94 , thought y’all’d like this! 💕

[rav1377]

Come Into The Light

Pt.2 to In The Dark…..In The Dark Masterlist

adoptedbrother!Simon Riley x adoptedsister!reader

tw:fauxcest, adopted sibling stuff, fluff, sweeter things, pining after each other, complicated feelings, simons trauma, etc, etc, mentions of depression, etc etc. male and female madtrubation at the end, dead dove, you’ve been warned guys!

Simons nose itched but he didn’t dare bring a hand up to ease it. his head was tipped on the edge of the sink as he lay on top of the counter. when he’d agreed to let you cut his hair, you’d asked him if he wanted to wash it. Simon nodded, jumping at the chance to feel your soft hands on him longer than just to cut it. but then there was the issue of actually washing his hair. he shook his head when you asked if he wanted to do it in the shower. Simon couldn’t get in there on some normal days. he didn’t want to associate you with those by bringing you there. so the kitchen sink it was. you played your part as hairdresser wonderfully, bringing all the products to detangle and help clean Simons hair. he dutifully laid on the counter when you told him to, posing his head above the now clean sink. the faucet was warming up, the extendable nozzle spewing water. his nose twitched as he gazed at the ceiling. “okay Simon. waters warm. you ready?” he’d never heard a voice so gentle. he nodded, leaning his head back while his hands remained folded over his chest. with his hair away from his face, he could seeing you standing tall, brining the nozzle down to run the water over his hair. Simon twitched, flinching slightly as it made contact. your hand rested on the left side of his head, keeping it still as it was soaked. the tangled strands wet, you finally pulled away to reach for the shampoo. “shampoo first. probably more than once.” you say, squirting a healthy amount on your palm. beneath your gaze, his eyes soften and trace your hands as they rub the liquid together before dipping into his hair. Simon almost let’s out a moan when your fingernails gently dig into his scalp, massaging in the shampoo. he opts instead to press his lips together, eyes closing as a large exhale leaves his nose. a shudder runs through his body. “feeling okay?” you whisper, and Simon nods. he feels more than okay now. emotions was over him, wave after wave. why the hell are you so attentive about this. why do you seem to care. why would you put in the effort. why would you even speak to him.

you watched simons eyelashes flutter as you rinsed the first round of shampoo out. that was the cleansing one. the heavy duty, grease removing, refreshing shampoo. now onto the new one. this would be a tad more gentle on his hair, making it feel soft and new. so you went in for round two, watching how his eyes rolled back into his head with what seemed like pleasure when you scratched his scalp. you tried to wrestle down that feeling that bubbled up when you saw you were making him feel good. the one that blossomed in your heart and brought heat to your face at the sight of his jaw tightening. your eyes traced over the scars on the planes of his face while you washed his hair. admiring the soft features and harsh ones. the arch of his nose. the curve of his lips. the ones you wanted to press yours to. wait what? no. shaking the thought from your head, your focus returned to his hair, washing out the slew of bubbles. you reached for the moisturizing conditioner next, filling your pal, with the creamy substance. “conditioners next, Simon.” you murmur, quickly adverting your eyes when his fly open, and he stares at you with icy blue ones. he just nods though, watching your face as your hands rub the conditioner in. his hair is clean now, and yes, the sink might be clogged with hair later, but this is worth it. as the conditioner sits, you pull a chair from the table, bringing it to the middle of the kitchen. a few towels sit on the kitchen island, next to a pair of scissors. Kyles nice hair scissors sit there too, the ones he uses to trim up his own hair when it’s needed. your other brother wouldn’t mind you using them for this. when Simons hair is clean of all product, your gentle hands runs through the tangles, unmatting the hair as gently as possible. you try your best not to be rough, and murmur sorry along the way when you tug on his hair. finally, squeezing out the water, you smile as Simon, flashing teeth. “okay. you can sit in the chair.” you say, reaching for a towel. Simon sits up, watching as you move from his place on the counter. next to all the other little appliances, he makes them look tiny, the frame of him taking up the space. finally he gets off, sitting down.

you’ve seen books that have sat less straight. he’s rigid and unmoving as the chin length strands of blond hair cling to his face, water dripping down his skin. the droplets seep into the brown hoodie he wears, a gift from John. you come to stand behind him, draping the towel around his neck like he’s at the barber. your hands gather up his hair, pulling it away from his face. his ears twitch each time your hand makes a pass near them, brushing the skin of his pale neck. you wonder what he’s feeling right now. how he’s processing this. he’s never let anyone near his hair before today, after all. as you pick up a brush, smoothing back the hair, your mind turns and turns. Simon is not a bad person. he had a bad childhood. just like you. and just like you, John had taken you both from your former lives in an effort to help. so when you bring the scissors into your hands, there’s a pause. and you step forward, in front of Simon. “want to cut it first?” you ask, eyes searching his. they flit between you and what you’re offering him, filled with something you don’t think you’ll ever be able to put your finger on. like sorrow. like pain. like anger. like depression. like anxiety. but his hand reaches out to you, fingers shaky, and he takes the blade. they come up and his other hand grabs a piece of his hair before cropping it almost an inch from his scalp. his body is tense as he does it, and the scissors drop from his hand right after. Simons chest heaves silently as he glares at the scissors and single strand of hair. but they soften when you reache down to pick them up, before making eye contact with him. nodding once, your hand comes to rest on his shoulder. a thumb traces over his skin. “it’s okay. I-…I know what it’s like. to be in that dark place. thinking you can’t escape it. the things that have happened. but…it’s possible to come out of it. and the light is so much prettier.” you hope the words that fall from your lips are comforting in a way, and not pointless. but you mean them.

Simon thinks you’re prettier. you’re his light that he’s trying to cling to. he doesn’t want to ruin it though, not before anything begins. but your words reach out and hold him, and seem to force his years to yours, nodding in gratitude. he doesn’t want your hand to leave his shoulder, for your thumb to stop touching him like you know he won’t hurt you. but they do. your hands pull at his hair, trimming and trimming away until it’s all mostly even. then you go in with a more delicate looking pair of scissors, cleaning up the edges and shearing off the sides to it looks somewhat good. when you stand in front of him, in your black tank top, Simon drops his eyes, gazing at the button of your jeans while your hands work above him, trimming away at the sides and top of his hair to help. still, his eyes glance up occasionally to watch your face twist in concentration. or to see your collarbone move as you stand. or to see the softness of your chest and body curve. when you go on your toes to reach some spot, Simons legs shift, and he lets you slide between them to get a better vantage point. with your body practically pressed against his, Simon blushes and tries to will the blood that’s dripping to his member back to his face. you’re just being nice, for Chrissake. when you finish, taking a step back, Simons eyes turned scared and vulnerable. what are you going to say? are you looking at his scars? maybe he shouldn’t have cut his hair. but you merely smile proudly and reach for the small compact mirror on the island. “I don’t think I did too badly!” you say, happy creeping into your tone. god that smile. Simon wants to see it plastered on your face every day. jeez, now he really can’t stop the blood that makes his length ache. his hand moves to tug down his hoodie, trying to hide himself as you turn around, popping open the mirror for him to look at.

Simon blinks heavily. that can’t be him. he’s not that…clean looking. hasn’t been in a while. but it is, and as he admires the new haircut you’ve given him, he doesn’t even look at the scars for once. the corner of his lip tugs up. Simon doesn’t recognize himself. not the halfway to handsome man in the mirror with a new haircut. the smirk on his face grows as he looks back up to you, only to see you absolutely beaming, like a ray of sunshine. “no’ bad at all.” he replies, standing. he looks down at you while you turn and put the compact away. he’s never been…pampered like this. never had something done like this before. so, a little bit awkwardly, and with a red hue reaching his cheeks, he bends his head to press his lips to your cheek quickly, a small peck there, followed by a meaningful thank you. each step of his shoes on the tile seem to echo as he walks back to his room, collapsing on the almost too small bed. Simon Riley smiled that night, as he laid there thinking about you.

“thank you.” your body freezes after his lips touched your soft skin. hot blush rose to your face as you stood there in the kitchen, replaying it. when the clock on the walls ticking shakes you out of it finally, your hands shakily reach for the broom, sweeping up the hair that litters the ground. your brain can’t help but remember each moment that happened. it goes back to when you finally saw Simon smile, that little grin. it made your heart happy when you saw that, knowing you’d helped him in a way. so when you crept into your bed at night, collapsing on the soft blanket, a smile creeped on your face as you curled into your pillow.

———————NSFW AHEAD————————————————————

Simons fist curled around the base of his cock, stroking it fast while his other pressed over his mouth to muffle the noises he made. his chest heaved as he panted into his palm. he couldn’t get you out of his head, and he thought well maybe this would fix it if he just did it once. the curve of your lips as you smiled. the glint in your eyes when you gave him the mirror. the sheen of your hair as it danced in the warm light of the kitchen. the valleys and hills of your body. the sway of your hips while you walked. Simon needed all of it. he just wouldn’t admit it out loud. so he groaned into his hand as his other one pinched his member, taking a break before moving to cup his tightening balls. he didn’t want it to be over, wanted to draw it out. he removed the hand from his mouth, letting it drift to his length, stroking it softly while the other ran a rough touch over his soft skin. with his mouth uncovered, his lips parted and let out breathy pants as he brought himself closer to release of the thought of you. god, he needed you and it was so messed up. he knew he couldn’t have you, but he wanted it. wanted every inch of your skin, every strand of hair. your fingers to rub and scratch at his scalp like they did today. god, he thought he was going to come right there in his pants when your fingers did that. he replayed the feeling, the words from your mouth asking if he was okay, concerned for his actual wellbeing. the curve of your wrists and soft touch of your palms. he’d give anything if it meant having you touch him like this. the thought slipped into his head, you, perched on his large thighs as your hands stroked his length tenderly. it was almost too much. groaning out your name, he came finally, splattering his bare chest with hot release. his member twitched in his hand long after, occasionally spurting out aftershocks of cum. he was backed up after all.

your fist balled up your sleep shirt tightly as your other set of fingers expertly rolled over the sensitive nub of your clit. desperate little whimpers and moans left your sealed lips as Simons image blared in your mind. the strong hands that remained clenched, folded over his chest. his delicate face that contorted in pleasure when you touched him. the strong thighs that twitched as you cut his hair. the deliciously chubby form that had hidden muscle towering over yours, you couldn’t stand it. his new haircut had let you seen his face, and he seemed bare, exposed to you. and you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty over it as your panting increased with each rub of your clit. you were so so close, just needed more. you thought back to his soft lips on your cheek, the smell of the fresh shampoo and his musk mixing together. how his other hand had rested on your arm as he leaned down. the slight tightening of his hand. your lips pressed together and a heavy exhale left your lips as your eyes screw shut in focus. you thought of his hands roaming your body instead, tweaking your nipples and rubbing slow circles on your pearl. him instead. you needed him here, touching you. and in return, touching him, hearing the noises that would leave him as you pleased each inch of him. with the silence in your room and only your small whimpers to accompany the thought of Simon running his tongue through your folds, your ears twitched at the sound of a groan. a deep timbre groaning your name. in pleasure. that’s all you needed, pushed over the edge, your head tipped back in a silent scream as your eyes rolled open in pleasure, rubbing furiously on your clit, riding the aftershocks. your body and mind was exhausted, haven’t touched yourself in a while. as you lay there panting, you couldn’t help but think if it was actually Simon groaning your name, not just the Simon you were imagining please you.

AN:EEEEEE!!!more fun writing this, I’m enjoying this series so far, so y’all lmk if you are too! if you’d like to see something specific I’m the series, please please please comment below or leave me an ask! I’m always open to y’all’s feedback and suggestions!

-cass💕:D

[rav1377]

Did you ever find the fanfic from your help post? Because now you've got me interested in it..

no…I’m pretty sure it got deleted or the account that created it did…when I tell you this story was so insanely deranged in such a good way, it was incredible and you would’ve been jaw dropped by the end, only hope to be able to write like they did one day

[rav1377]

In The Dark

In The Dark Masterlist

adoptivebrother!Simon x adoptedsister!reader

tw:DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE, DNE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED NOW. this is dark, includes fauxcest and sibling relationships. smut, unprotected, soft Simon, etc etc, please please PLEASE don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this content. READER AND SIMON ARE NOT MINORS, THEY ARE 18, THEY LIVE WIH JOHN.

the floor was cold. the pads of your feet chilled by the touch. but the blanket wrapped around you wore off the cool chill in the air. John, your adoptive dad, liked the house cold. said it helped him sleep, helped his hurting joints. he’d taken you from a group home when you were 16, choosing you. you, who regarded yourself as insignificant or not needed. he still chose you. of course you’d met the man before he’d adopted you. gotten to know him. you trusted him now, and in many ways, he was your father. no, not your flesh and blood, but he was the one that had the other end of that fatherly bond. you’d quickly learned that he already had two other children. both adopted. Johnny and Kyle. Kyle had been with him the longest, since he was 6, and Johnny since he was 13. you were the newest addition to the little pack. Kyle was three years older than you, Johnny only one. you’d been scared that they wouldn’t like you, or that they would ignore you, mistreat you, deem you unworthy of love from their family. but that hadn’t happened. Kyle merely hugged you on that first day you came in, shocking your system to its core. Johnny had been next, telling some joke as he gave you a side hug. John had chuckled from his place by the door. introduced them as his boys. his sons. and from that moment on, you were his daughter. the boys had treated you like their little sister, quick to protect and fight for you, but just as quick to tease you. you belonged in the family now. then, a year later, things had changed, and your world shifted once more.

Kyle was away at college now, already in his second year. Johnny had just left as well, a freshmen in the new university a city over. you were 17, and home with John most days. until he’d sat you down, bringing in his serious tone. John was adopting another person. another teenager. like you. but this one had been troubled, had scars that ran deep. wounds that John wouldn’t reveal to you, saying that they were his stories to tell. and you didn’t have a say in the matter. it had been done. the foster home the boy was at couldn’t keep him anymore, said the others were scared of him. so John swooped in, playing at savior. his name was Simon. Simon Riley.

the first few weeks were rough, to say the least. Simon wouldn’t talk to John or you, would merely through glances, glares, and other looks when he thought you weren’t looking. still, John was counting on you. needed you to welcome him in. help him be at home here, for however long that was. Simon would turn 18 in a year, days after you would. a year in this house. with him.

——————————————————————————————————

with you. Simon was supposed to spend a year in this house. with you. you’d done your best to welcome him, but that was hard to do when Simon couldn’t even look at you for long. not without heat rushing to his face, a pink blush on his cheeks. you treated him like no one else had, not even his own family. he remembered his mother, some days. you had the same soft tone as she did when you talked. like you were skiddish and always testing the waters of the world around you. he remembered his brother on other days. you had the same joy in your laughter like he did when they weren’t hiding from their dad. other days, Simoj Riley remembered his father. the large hand that came down on him so many times. the belts used across his arms and shoulders. the nicks from pocket knives on his forearms. the cigarette burns on his skin. but you weren’t anything like his father. neither was John. but he still couldn’t trust you. the two of you weren’t anything to him. just some people he had to stay with until he could leave. for good. but the days still went on, and Simon was still a man whose heart did soften. lost the jagged edges of it when your fingers danced across his as you both reached for the pepper one night. became smooth when you smiled at him, trying to tell a joke. melted when you blushed after he said you looked nice one day.

Simon knows he’s messed up for this. letting himself weasel his way into your family. pushing himself where he doesn’t belong. for loving you the way he does. you were supposed to be his sister. but he couldn’t bring himself to see you that way. yet he locked and bottle up his feelings deep inside him to hide it. putting on a cold exterior and harsh glare that always took the place of the goofy smile he wanted so badly to share with you. John merely thought he was still being guarded. the older man often tried to talk with the blond, getting him to open up slowly. John knew the man and what he’d gone through, but it was incomparable when it came from Simons own lips. he’d still cared for him, even with the stories that came with the scarred face and skin. Simon trustedJohn, ever so slowly. let him into his bubble, into his life. and with him, he brought you. letting you sit next Simon at dinner. letting you near him in positions where Simon had no choice. positions where John would watch with keen eyes, seeing how Simon tried to hide from your gaze. and the man chalked it up to being scared to trust you, just like he was scared to trust John. figured the two of you needed time to work it out, to bond with another. so one day, he announced that he was leaving town for the weekend, going to visit Johnny at university. you two would stay alone with he was gone.

——————————————————————————————————

you were frustrated to say the least. Simon seemed to hate you, didn’t want anything to do with you. glared at you and couldn’t seem to even look at your face most days without turning away. and it frustrated you. that despite the fact Simon didn’t like you, you still liked him. liked the way he made his toast, jelly first then butter. liked the way his strong form walked through the kitchen late at night. liked how his eyes took in each detail of each room every time he entered. like how he held himself. Simon wasn’t an ugly man either. you had to admit there was a part of you that was attracted, almost drawn and trapped in, to him. but he didn’t seem drawn to you. no, he deemed you unworthy of a hello or good morning most days. that’s why you dreaded spending the weekend with him alone. how would you even get through it if he wouldn’t talk?

the first night John was gone you cooked pizza. frozen, but good nonetheless. Simon took Johns place that night. in the little bench in the nook of the kitchen. right next to you. your body froze when you felt his large thigh basically press against yours. Simon merely dug into his pizza like he was starved and couldn’t focus on anything else, letting his shaggy blond hair fall over his face, covering the many scars that decorated it. still, you bit into your own pizza, letting your thigh relax and press again his. when you’d both finished, sitting in the silence as the food digested, Simons head turned to you, still downturned. “thank you.” he murmured into the dim room. your face lit up, eyes darting to the ones that hid behind his messy and tangled hair. “of course.” you whispered. Simon stood after that, helping you take the dishes to the sink to clean them alongside you. every now and then, you’d throw glances at the tall boy next to you, his disheveled hair and almost defeated shoulders. some days he stood taller than others, but today he seemed…weighed down. as you stared as his fingers while they rinsed the plate, an idea appeared. his hair was a mess, desperately needing to be cut and washed. but Simon hadn’t let anyone touch it, insisting to even John that it was fine. but it wasn’t, not to you. “Simon?” you asked tentatively. he looked to you slowly, eyes drifting up your collarbone and stopping at your chin. “can I cut your hair?” his lips pressed together. “only if it’s okay. I-I just know that it’s long and i uhm. well wasn’t sure if you liked it like that?” the words lost volume and their certainty as Simon didn’t flinch at them. so you looked back to your dishes to dry them. “no. I don’t like it.” Simons voice was dry and sounded like it hadn’t been used in a while. “you can cut it.” he finished before handing you the last plate. your lips parted slightly as you nodded, drying the plate before returning it to its cabinet.

——————————————————————————————————

an:ahhh! I loved writing this, it will be a series, and don’t worry there will be more to come, including all the stuff in the tws so there will be darker smut ahead, and anyway this story is already a bit different, rlly just bc they’re adopted siblings, but I’ve had this in my head for a while, so I hope you enjoyed it!

-cass💕:D

[rav1377]

In The Dark Masterlist

In The Dark

Come Into The Light

[rav1377]

Bear’s Den 2

bearshifter!John Price x fem!reader

tw:sweet stuff, mention of bite, John bear shifting, SMUTTTTTTT, piv, breeding kink, allusion to a piss kink, etc etc etc.

the sun dripped in the window, filling the room. your eyes blink open and a soft inhale comes from your nose, breathing the smell of pine and wood. musk and a bit of cinnamon. a trace of something deeper. a heavy arm was draped over your waist and you felt soft breaths on your shoulder. John. it was just John. he’d kept you here for about a week now in his little home. the days blurred together a bit as you were so sleepy all the time, weighed down by something deeper. still, you rose out of bed and slipped into the small bathroom to brush your teeth. as you did, the soft running water poured into the basin and you gazed at yourself in the mirror. you didn’t look tired. you looked great. almost healthier, a small glow on your face, even in the early morning. minus the large bite mark on your neck. it was healing now, beginning to scar, red and puckered skin emerging. John had said it was necessary as he mumbled sweet words into your skin. that it claimed you as his. you couldn’t be bothered to question him further, not when you were so comfortable in the bed with him. he’d explained every now and then what bits and pieces of the words he said meant, and you only almost lost your mind when he’d said that he was a bear. like an actual bear, changed when he wanted to. still skeptical of that fact, and him in general, you snuck out to sit on the foot of the bed, looking at the large man you’d come to let protect you. he looked peaceful like this, face slack as he slept and his hair covered body rising and falling with small breaths.

it was like he could feel your stare though, it wasn’t before long his own eyes blinked open to look at yours. “mornin’”John said gruffly, sitting up. “morning John.” you say back, smiling. you still weren’t sure how to deal with this situation. you’d liked the man of course, you were attracted to him without a doubt, but he had kidnapped you. not willing to hurt you though, and when it was so easy to melt into his touch instead of fighting it, you yielded to him for the most part. he was bare, just like you were, and he removed the covers to get out of bed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “could you put some coffee on?” he murmured, standing finally. your eyes fluttered shut as his lips touched your skin and you nodded. tracing his large form, he walked slowly to the bathroom before relieving himself. that’s when you blushed and stood, leaving the room to get the coffee started. as you went through the small routine, pouring some grounds in and letting the coffee brew, the chill finally got to you once you were out of John’s warm bed. sure the house was still warm, built to keep in heat, but out of the fur-laden bed, it felt significantly colder. your soft hand reached for a mug, filling it with the brown liquid. a second mug filled after. John walked in that moment, teeth freshly brushed as he picked up a mug, taking a sip of the bitter liquid. he glanced at you, smirking when you frowned. “what?” he asked softly. “black coffee? really?” you said back, reaching for a sugar packet. John chuckled as you added the sugar, striding to the fridge to retrieve milk. “if I add milk will it be to your satisfaction?” he teases, pinching your ass playfully, causing you to squeak and jump from him. thankfully your mug sat safely on the counter. you glared at him, pouring milk into your mug after he did to his. you leaned on the counter, watching the large man curiously.

“you’re not as tired today.” you remark, peering up at him. John shook his head. “no. some days are worse than others. hibernations coming, so it’ll really get bad in the next week or so.” he explained. you nodded softly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s still insisting he’s half bear or something. but he sees it. feels it. “y’ don’t believe me?” he asked. shaking your head softly, you set down your mug. John merely nodded as set down his own. then you’re pulled to the back door, exposed to the cool fall air that’s not quite chilly yet. there’s no one near the property, only the two of you and the large forest behind the cottage. still, your arms come to cross over your chest. John lets go of your wrist, leaving you on the porch before he walks to the treeline, finding a bush. “wait there.” John says, tucking himself into the brush and trees. you look on, worried now. you hear him grunt twice before you hear the awful noise of skin on skin and bones snapping. “John?!” you exclaim, stepping forward and off the porch, ignoring your bare feet on the dirt as you run to the trees where he hid. but you stumble back when you see what awaits you. a massive, hulking brown bear. even on only four of its legs, it’s huge. there’s no way. that can’t be possible. but you saw him go to the brush, into the trees, heard him. there wasn’t a bear there before. this can’t be John though. so you take a few steps back, eyes wide. the large animal merely huffs at you before sitting on its haunches, like it was expecting the reaction you gave. but it made no move to hurt you, causing you to still and gape at it. “j-John?” you whisper, voice filled with fear. you watch the bears ears perk up, turning to you. another huff. “John.” you repeat, and the large animal bows its head, beautiful eyes taking in the sight of you. “John.” another huff, and this time, you step forward until you could touch the animal if you reached out. still, the bear doesn’t move, unwavered by your presence. so you reach out, letting your hands run over the fur, creeping up to behind his ears, earning a satisfied sound. you scratch there, a small chuckle leaving your mouth when one of the legs of the animal starts to twitch.

an idea appears. John had this soft spot underneath his left ear, one that was sensitive. you found that out on the second night you were here. so you let your hand drift to the left side of the bears face, fingers tracing until they reach his ear. the bear stiffens as you scratch the skin there before letting out a groan, collapsing onto its side as you scratch and tug in the fur softly. “okay John. it’s you.” you say, pulling your hand away. the bear, still on its side, gazes up at you, as if anticipating more ear scratches. “what are you, a dog?” you tease. “I need my John back. human John.” you say, and your bear nods before retreating back into the tree line. a pained howl and more bones moving. then, moments later, John emerges again, holding a large pelt brown pelt behind him. his gaze drifts to you and he nods. stepping forward, you move to embrace him, letting your bare chest press against his. “I believe you.” you whisper, and John nods. his large hands move to shoulder the pelt and he kisses your temple. as you walk back to the house, he leaves the pelt over a rocker, waiting to be skinned. “you shed every time?” you ask, curious. John nods as he collapses on the couch. “why do y’think I got so much round here?” he asks, gesturing to many of the furs that lay around the house as rugs or blankets. nodding, you move to go sit by him, straddling his waist. “you okay?” you ask, tangling your hands in his hair. John’s eyes are shut as he breathes softly, nodding. “just takes a bit out of me. not young anymore.” he says, and you shake your head. “you’re plenty young.” you retort, and he smiles, opening his eyes. his hips bump against yours and he shifts so his hardening member is flush with your warmth, causing a different feeling to creep into your chest. “John!” you half scold and half whine. he merely shrugs. “can’t help it. too beautiful.” he grunts and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. this is the first time since you were brought here when both of you were completely awake, and it heightens both of your senses. his tip brushes your clit and your hips unconsciously buck down on him.

“John.” you murmur as his lips tease down your neck before his tongue darts over your bite mark. “such a good mate.” a small noise from you as you grind on him. “gonna take my cubs.” John lifts you by your hips and you push up in your knees to let him slide his ruddy cock head in your warmth, pushing in until he’s swallowed by you. when he’s fully rooted in your cunt you gasp, overtaken by the sensation. you’re so full, stuffed to the brim. it’s warm, and all consuming. you want nothing more to stay like this. John holds you close when he rocks his hips into yours, ensuring you stay right where you belong. you whimper in pleasure, whispering his name in his left ear before dropping your lips to the skin below, causing his hips to buck into you harshly, only earning a mewl from your lips. “please John. a-ah! wan’ you so bad. in-nghhh-inside me. f-fill me up John-ha’fuhh, please John.” words spill from your mouth that only spur on John’s movements as his hips ram into yours. “I’ll take care of you.” John grits out, forehead pressed against your shoulder. and you believe him. the fat head of his cock rubs the spongy spot deep inside you, and your hips buck on him uncontrollably, chasing release. when John’s lips find yours, he becomes more passionate, intent on making you his. you finally come on him, head thrown back and a silent scream leaving your mouth as it hangs open. John not long after, a soft groan is all that is heard as his member twitches inside you, filling your warmth with his come. “good girl.” he whispers, stroking your spine. your body goes limp on him, letting it be filled by him still. John strokes your back still as he begins to talk.

“take you to your house today. get some o’ your things.” John murmurs, and you nod sleepily. you almost forgot about everything else. trapped in the bears den. “go down to the courthouse too.” your eyebrows furrow at that. “gonna make you mine. by law as well. no leavin now.” he says, proclaiming his intent to marry you. your body freezes as your mind begins to race. he wants to marry you. actually keep you here. but what was out there for you anyway? some little desk job you hated? some guy that’d say the wrong things but you’d stay with him because you thought no one else would love you? no. you’ll take your chances with John. “mhm.” snuggling deeper into his chest. sleep trying to overcome you again. “oi. none of that.” John states, rising from the couch to lower you onto steady feet. he guides you to the bedroom, and you dress in your old but now clean, sundress and sandals. John slips on his worn jeans and maroon button up, the sleeves fraying slightly. he helps you into the cab of the truck once you made it outside, clipping your seatbelt in the fastener. the drive is silent, you lay across the middle of the seats, gazing up at the roof and the pair of dog tags that dangle from the rear view. they make you pause. reaching up, you toy with the metal reading over Johns name. and his rank. “captain?” inquiring gently, John sees where you look up at him and nods. “long time ago.” the words are almost a whisper and off the look in his yes, you decide not to press. besides, you’ve made it into town anyway. “where’s your place dove?” John asks, and you babble off the road your little townhouse sits in. it’s really more of an apartment, just without being cramped next to neighbors. you almost forgot what it looked like, your brain telling you that the warm cottage you share with John is home. still, he slips you the keys he took the liberty of swiping from you purse into your hand as you get out.

the door opens with a creak and your eyes trace over everything. it’s foreign. but not. odd, but comforting. the little couch tucked in against the wall, your tv on a coffee table. the entrance to the pitiable kitchen. the hall to your room. John steps in behind you, shutting the door. you sigh and walk to your room, more consciousness coming back now. your door is ajar and the blankets lay crumpled on the bed. the walls bare. the floor new and not worn. it’s almost clinical.if not for the little touches you added to spruce it up. John still follows you in. remembering why you’re there, and his presence behind you, your feet move until you’re rooting in the closet for the largest suitcase you own. setting it on the bed, you look up at John. “what’s going to happen from here?”it’s your turn to whisper. “what do you want to happen? you’re my mate now. but I won’ keep you from here.” he explains and you nod. “I-…I want to be with you.” you admit softly, and John affirms you further. “but what about here?” John shrugs gently. “keep it. sell it. your house, right?” you nod again and turn to the dresser. pulling open the wood drawer, you begin to pull clothes for Johns house. “wan’ you with me though. all I could ask.” John says, the bed creaking as he sits. “I can agree to that.” you reply, placing some socks next to the bras you have packed. your underwear and pajamas are next, and John scoffs. “y’ won’t be needin’ those.” he says, a smile tugging on his lips. you chuckle as you walk to the closet again, pulling your favorite dresses and blouses. as you glance at him, your heart pangs. he looks tired, the bags under his eyes still heavy. not as spirited as he was. so you quicken your hands, placing clothes into the bag until it’s stuffed to the brim. when you place it on the ground, John rises. “anythin’ else?” he says, taking the bag from you. glancing around the room, you nod before grabbing a stray backpack, shoving into it books that you had laying around. and then the small rock on your beside table, the good luck charm given to you by your father. the photograph of you as a child, clinging to your mother. you tuck that safely in the next book. finally, when your bag can’t seem to hold more, you sling it over your shoulder and look at John to lead you out the room. he nods and walks out, leaving you to follow. the truck bed thuds with your suitcase and it shifts slightly as you pull away from your house and back into town. right. the courthouse.

It seems too simple, really. how John coaxes you into the building with a heavy hand on your hip and a warm feeling that tugs on you in your chest. how the woman at the desk doesn’t blink twice and directs you to a man who handles marriage certificates. how he asks you to vow to each other. how John swears to be with you until the day that only death parts you. how you promise to love and care for him. how easy it is to echo those words. the man hands you a pen, and the certificate is there, all laid out before you. so you sign it, now with the last name Price.

——————————————————————————————————

something heavy radiates off of John the whole drive home. it’s consuming and you’re drawn to it. he’s shaking with the fact that you’re his wife now too. by law. you’re his, and he is yours. the tug of hibernation couldn’t pull him away from this moment. when he pulls into the drive, John almost goes insane with how he rips the door open to only yank your head to his and smash your lips on his. the kiss is harsh, but above all, passionate, like he’s trying to remember every inch of your skin. his hands drift to your hips, pinching the skin there. melting in his grass, your own hands find the hair on his nape, tugging gently. John groans and lifts you out of the cab, holstering you on his hip only to scuff his heels, stumbling slightly. not enough to drop you, only enough for John to give up on inside. his touch is insatiable as he drops to his knees on the leaves and dying grass on the ground. you can’t focus on that though, only how John caresses each inch of your exposed skin, how his chapped lips run over your collarbone, how his nose digs into your neck, huffing your scent. your own body gives in, and you grind on his lap softly, trying to get more of him. your nose dips into the sensitive spot under his left ear and you pant heavily, licking at the skin there. when his hand creeps under your skirt to please you, it sends a sharp gasp through your body and a jolt up your spine. “John.” you whine, hands drifting under the collar of his shirt. he seems to ignore you. “husband.” you grit out, and his eyes snap up to yours. “you want to call me that?” he asks, voice low. “wife?” his hands are quick to leave you as your rump slides to the ground, back laying on the grass. the fingers you watch undo a belt, then a zipper. John leans over you, watching how your hair splays out. your dress is pushed up to reveal your warmth, ready for him. and when he finally sheathes himself inside you, your mind goes blank.

it hours later when your bags finally make their way inside. there were a few breaks along the way. the worry that you might actually bear his children sets in somewhere in the round between the kitchen and living room. you’re so full, stuffed of him and his spend deep inside you. each noise and jolt you do only spurs him on though. when John finally relents from the onslaught of lovemaking, you’re in the bedroom, and the call for sleep is too much. unpacking can wait for tomorrow. tonight, you need this. need his arms wrapped around you as John snores. he needs his wife tucked into the crook of his chest, breathing in her scent as she slumbers. this is a nice start to his winter.

[rav1377]

I'm back w another Don Hume fic req!! I love the fluff you write--could you do don Hume x girl reader and their meeting and first date (and/or later dates?? she's shy, he's more shy, but he still approaches her (maybe on a dare from bobby)? and even though she appreciates his silence, he also opens up more around her. (maybe she doesn't realize just how quiet he usually is compared to how he is around her until one of the boys comments?) I don't know...something cute, please!! thanks!! :)

oooooo yes this is so cute! I might tie in a second part to it because I had another ask for a shy Donny and reader sharing both their first times, so I will incorporate this story into that as well! Ty for the ask!!

💕:D

[rav1377]

so sorry!

hi guys! So unfortunately I’m having some issues rn with my email and stuff, so there’s a good chance I won’t be posting as often. This makes me extremely sad and frustrated bc I do love writing all of this and seeing all these other wonderful stories on tumblr. Will provide updates as I try to fix the issue.

with all my love,

-cass💕:D

[rav1377]

After Work

Rusty Ryan x fem!reader

tw:n/a, fluff, light kissing, sweet stuff, erm….i dunno guys this kinda just fluff!! maybe some light suggestive stuff.

the other half of Rusty’s bed was cold. missing the warmth of a woman. the warmth of you. he’d just gotten back from the mission in Europe, escaping death from Terry Benedict again. in the end, everything had worked out. even with the unexpected hiccup of getting arrested. even with the need for Tess to get involved. even with Linus’s mother bailing them out of the Italian prison. so he got off the plane from Europe. boarded it to New York. took a layover in Colorado. landed in California. flew to Anaheim. and down the many streets until he reached your shared home. you’d bought it together, well, Rusty bought it, but it was a group effort to make it home. after Rusty’s first big gig (that came with and even bigger paycheck) he’d decided that you needed a place to call home. so home became the house nestled into Anaheim. you decorated each inch of it, every corner bore your blood sweat and tears. Rusty was happy to just be along for the ride, basking in the glow of your smile as you hung some decoration or organized some furniture.

but now it was empty when he came in. you must be at work still. your little job, something you were passionate about, you could work as many or as little hours as you wanted, the income you did make supplemental to Rusty’s. his keys eat the counter with a little jangle as he took off his jacket and hung it on a little rung by the door. the leather of his shoes scraped as he kicked them off haphazardly. as Rusty walked to the living room, the inhale he took eased the tension in his shoulders, breathing int the soft scent of everything. it smelled wonderfully like you. Rusty shucked off his button up and pants, discarding them on the arm of the couch. as he sat alone, his heart panged. Rusty missed you, missed everything about you. his toes rubbed into the soft rug under his feet, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop tears from falling. why’d he feel so helpless? Like he was weighed down with everything, even though there was nothing to worry about, nothing to steal, nothing to do. so why did Rusty Ryan want to break down and cry? with a sigh, he stood, slowly walking into the bedroom you shared. the bathroom light was on, and Rusty walked in, eyes scanning the room. they landed on the shower, all your little products in a row. your hair plastered to the wall in some spots. his hand reached for the bottle of shampoo he’d seen you use all the time. the cap popped open and he brought the bottle to his nose, inhaling the scent. it was a little too chemical, not mixed in with the natural musk of your hair and body. still, it was better then nothing, and Rusty grunted softly, looking forward to the time when he’ll get to have you next to him, steam filling the room as he lathers the shampoo into your soft hair, wet strands tangling with his fingers. he left the bathroom, opting to curl up in the bed.

its empty without you.

Rusty lays there, running a hand over the hair you’d begged him not to cut. so he didn’t, keeping the longer strands over the buzzcut he was going to get. his eyes drooped, blinking closed. it was too cold in the bed.

until you walk in. your keys undid the lock on the door, placing your bag on the counter. your body paused when you saw Rusty’s jacket. he wasn’t supposed to be back for another week. your heart started racing. he was back. you practically sprinted to the bedroom, creeping in. there he was, splayed on his back. he only had his boxers on, legs covered by the duvet. his arms stretched out wide, chest falling softly. taking off your own clothes, you tried to strip down to your underclothes as silent as possible, slipping into bed with Rusty. tracing a hand up his chest, you let it rest on his right shoulder, pressing your body flush with his. a soft grunt. his chest turned and he jerked away at first, eyes blinking open. you smiled up at him and his eyes focused on your soft face. “hey.” he whispered. “hi Rus.” you reply. “you’re back early.” Rusty nods, wrapping an arm to get you closer. “yeah. went okay.” he said, sleep still in his voice. “that’s good.” your lips press to his jawline and he sighs, turning his nose so it’s buried in your hair. you stay like that, letting him hold you against him.

“could hold you all night long.” Rusty confessed in the night. “after work impulse, huh?” you tease, rubbing your legs against his. your thigh gets tucked into his, cradled in his presence. “something like that.” he replied lowly, teasing the skin below your ear with his teeth. “something like that.” you murmured, tangling your fingers in his.

@onxlyemery for tags 😁hope this was okay!!!

[rav1377]

hiii! do u think u can do a fluff fic with rusty ryan from oceans eleven?? 🤍

YES!!!! I SURE CAN!!!!!!!! PRONTO!!!!!!

im legit just so happy that people r interested in the fandom still, like I live laugh love the oceans eleven boys-and Rusty’s just so….idk lemme just come home and him be there w some ice cream and a good pair of man titties for me as a pillow-likeeeeee please?

ANYWAY!!! YES!!!! I WILL HAVE IT OUT ASAP!!!! Ty for the ask!😁😁

[rav1377]

Fic Ideas?

ok ok, your girl is getting a bit short on fic inspo, is there anything specific yall want me to write? Like I honestly don’t care-I will write just abt anything to the best of my ability, like even ur filthiest thoughts for any character, I’ll write it 😝. Send me asks or comments if there is something specific!

once again, thank you for all the support

-cass💕D

ps. fics ARE coming, im just working on like four at the same time rn 😭but im running outta ideas!!!

[rav1377]

Winners Reward

Don Hume x fem!reader

give me this man. now. please. I think just one good night with him and I’d be fixed. literally shaking the bars of my cage every time I watch boys in the boat. he’s just so sweet, I wanna bite him and shake him around like a dog toy. 🫢anyway, enjoy my 10:00pm writing of Don Hume and him fucking you! 😝

tw:SMUT (duh), piv, unprotected(don’t do this, go buy a condom or smth come on), historical inaccuracy, etc etc, kissing, sweet talk, SWEET BOY DON AND HIS LITTLE FROWN SHOULD BE A WARNING ENOUGH BC MY CHEST IS ABT TO EXPLODE. (MY HOT TAKE) guys i also wanna say smth-in the 30s, I don’t rlly think they made out really sloppily! like i just don’t think that’s how they kissed, i think it was much sweeter and chaste, i mean obviously still very very passionate, but you won’t catch me describing historical kissing like this with words like messily or like tongues in each others mouths, like idk, I think it was different

(let me have your babies) WHO THE HELL SAID THAT???

the husky clipper drew closer and closer to the finish line, the boat far ahead of the second place shell. the roar of the crowd around you is overwhelming, and you smile with the sheer joy that seems to float in the air. your eyes only have one focus though. on Don Hume. your boyfriend. watching his arms roll the oar, each muscle performing perfectly as he sets the rhythm for the entire boat. his mind is deep in focus as he trains his eyes downward, huffing out breath with each finish of his stroke. Bobby yells out the count in front of him, a steady constant. and just like that, the husky clipper rows itself to victory. smiling, you look around you before directing your gaze back to the boat. Dons looking for you, and he finally finds you. his mouth quirks up in that rare smile, and you wave at him, smiling. the man grins and blushes, looking down at the ties on his feet. Bobby says something to him once he sees where the boy was looking. “hey! Don did good, didn’t he?” Bobby yells, calling out your name. Dons eyes widen as his head whips up to look at Bobby, glaring. but you merely chuckle, nodding along. “he did great, Bobby!” you call back, smiling when you see Dons blush grow even redder. others and himself would blame it on the show of endurance and athleticism, but you and Bobby know better.

the shell tucks into the dock, oars being undone and carried to the shell house. the crowd has dispersed with the setting sun, the crew and close friends remaining. you creep into the large building, finding one familiar face to chat with, your professor. and the head coach of the rowing program. “Mr.Ulbrickson.” you greet the man warmly, and he breaks into a smile when he turns to see you, pulling you into a quick hug. “my favorite student.” he says in return. “the race was amazing. the boys did good.” offering up the compliment, you finish your words. “you coached them well.” Al merely looks to the ground, trying to hide a smile. “they did good, we’ll get them better though.” he replies, looking at the soft planes of your face. “well don’t push them too hard. still need to get Don to a dance this year.” your teacher huffs a small laugh. “get him to do something that’s not rowing or class.” you giggle and nod. “I will sir.” Al’s eyebrows furrow in faux anger. “ah don’t call me that, you’ll make me feel old.” shifting your feet, your hands rest on your hips. “well now Professor Ulbrickson, I thought you just had your 60th birthday! don’t worry, you still have that somewhat youthful glow!” your teacher scoffs and turns to go up the stairs to his office. “you’re getting a F on your paper for that.” he says, walking up the creaky steps. “oh need me to help you up those stairs Professor?” He doesn’t respond this time, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. with a low chuckle you turn to the locker room door, opting to sit on a bench. the cool Washington air drifts in, calming your nerves. the water flows slowly, reflecting off moonlight. it was a good day today. a good race. your team won. Don won. he looked good out there, causing you to blush where you stood as you watched each powerful movement of his legs and arms. everything about the way he controlled his body, it just itched you in a way that made you squirm.

the locker room door opened, letting on the sound of chatter and running showers. you look up, seeing your boyfriend. smiling, you stand and he looks to you, breaking into his own little smile, a rare break for his normal frown. his hair is damp from his shower as he pulls you close, giving your temple a quick kiss. no one here to see you, he’s so much more open around you. “we won.” he whispers, walking up the path to the school. “you won.” you echo. wind blows over the grass, blowing up your skirt slightly. it runs through you and Dons hair, tussling the strands. when you reach Dons dormitory, he’s quiet as a church mouse in opening the door, watching carefully for others. but there’s no one here, not this late. so he brings you to the small room tucked into the basement of the dorm hall, given to him by the university for being on the team. he won’t complain about it, and neither would you. it holds a simple bed on a metal frame next to a wooden desk and chair. on one wall he hangs what clothes he has, the beaten shirts and his one nice jacket. a drawer next to the door holds his pants and other clothes, knick knacks and books sitting on top of it. he reclines in the chair, removing his signature jacket and placing it on the desk. a thought appears into your head again. the one you’ve been thinking about all day.

walking to him slowly, you let him watch you approach, let him see as you straddle his large thighs, curling your hands behind his neck. you watch as blush appears on his cheeks again, and how his eyes trace your face, every detail and every mark. in return, you do the same, remembering every freckle and hair. smiling, you let your hands creep into the hair on the back of his head before pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. you feel his lips part, mouth opening. his eyes probably closed now, trying to savor the feeling of your lips tracing his skin. Dons hands cradle your hips, holding them close to his. beneath you, his member hardens, twitching to life as your kisses drift towards his neck. finally, he catches your mouth on his, trapping you. no one around finally, one hand rests on the nape of your neck, keeping you against him as he presses kisses to your lips and cheek. the feeling of his skin on yours makes the room feel hot, and you let your hips rock back and forth slowly. beneath you, you can feel his length, grinding on it slowly. this is what you wanted. wanted to reward your boyfriend after a hard day like this. but that was a bit hard to do when your mind began to go blank when his lips reached that sensitive spot beneath your ear. it made you shiver, hearing the soft noises that left his lips as well as the feeling of the soft skin on yours. “D-Don.” you whimper, hands moving to his shoulders. Don merely hums in response, lips unmoving. “can we go to the bed?” you whisper softly, pulling away to look at him. you see his eyes turn dark as he nods, rising to let you stand. his nimble fingers pull off the undershirt he wore before placing on the chair. his trousers are next, quickly pulled off along with his boots. next he turns his attention to you, stepping close to trace a finger down your neck. you turn around and let him pull down the zipper of your dress. he helps you step out of it, hanging it over the chair along with his own shirt. your heels come next, and he drops to his knees, helping support you as he pulls them off. you gasp when he presses his lips against the inside of your thigh, hands creeping up to pull off your chemise. left in nothing but your panties, he lets you sit on the bed next to him. your hands drift to his chest, pushing him gently onto his back. Don grunts softly when he feels your hips flush against his, the sensation of them rocking on his erection causing blush to creep down to his collarbone.

“did good today Don.” you say, keeping your hands on his chest, thumbs rubbing the skin softly. the boy beneath you nods, hair falling on his forehead. “looked good too.” you finish, bringing a hand up to trace his jaw. Don merely grins and sits up to kiss you, bucking his hips against your clothed warmth slowly. “felt good to win. d-did it for you.” he replies. Dons mouth always seems to loosen when he gets to be around you alone. “wanted you so bad.” he says, face dipping into the curve of your neck. you can feel his eyelashes brush the skin, and your head falls back, allowing him more access. Don nips at the skin there, running his teeth across the soft and supple surface. he feels your hands creep down between you, trying to tug off his boxers. relenting, Don shifts just enough to help you pull them down, discarding them on the floor. but yours are next thrown onto the pile of forgotten clothes. now, both of you naked, paw at the other. Dons hands feel like they’re everywhere, tracing your spine and holding your thighs apart, running up your torso and holding your breasts, cradling your jaw and brushing hair away from your eyes. he manages to get on top of you, and lets his cock grind against your warmth, being slowly coated in the arousal that drips from you. each push of his hips causes his length to catch on the sensitive nub of your clit, but it never being enough. “Don, please. need you.” whining, your hand travels to hold his shoulder, the other resting on his waist. “in a sec, doll.” he whispers, focused on how your sweet scent drips off you, nose buried in your neck. you let out a groan when he doesn’t relent, continuing his movements. you need more though. so you give him a taste of his own medicine.

your hand creeps down before cupping his balls in your palm, running a thumb over them, causing him to buck his hips harshly. Dons hair brushes against your face and he grunts. “ha-ngh!d-dont do that.” he says, still grinding into your hold. “Don.” you whine again, hoping your pleading tone will get him to actual make love to you. this time, he relents, using a hand to angle his head inside you, catching on the wet entrance. Don pushes his, bottoming out inside you quickly. you both seem to moan in unison when he does. he just feels so good inside you, filling you up just like he always does. and in return, Don finally feels like he’s where he belongs. right next to you like this, consumed by you completely. he feels safe like this. his hips grind against yours, rubbing that spongy spot inside you. “feel good?” he murmurs, bringing his face from your neck to look down at your state. nodding rapidly, both hands come to rest on his shoulders, moving with every thrust of his hips. “m-more.” you beg, and who is Don to say no to you? so he picks up his pace, pulling out more just to plunge back into your cunt just as quickly. “ah! y-yes Don-feels nghhso good.” your breaths leave sporadically now, but Don seems like he’s breathing just fine, his endurance built up by months of rowing. and like he rows his boats, he fucks you with the same care and precision. each punch of his hips inside you are powerful, meant to kiss your cervix each time. his length rubs on the sides of your clenching walls, and you moan out in pleasure with each roll of his muscles.

“Don!” you wail out, clinging his body close. he whispers your name in your ear as he tucks his arms under your back, pulling you close. his legs shift so he sits on his haunches, holding your weight up. the new angle causes his cock to sink deeper, drawing out another pleasured noise from you. the position practically bounced you on him, and he buried his nose in your collarbone, eyes screwing shut as he drills into your inviting warmth. the feeling is incomparable to him, and he lets out audible groans every time you clench on him. his thighs work like a well oiled machine, allowing his hips to pump into you, punishing that spongy spot in you to come. and when you do, you come hard. your body twitches and thighs seize up as a new wave of wetness drips from you, creating a creamy white ring around the base of Dons cock, evidence of your release. “did good, s-so good doll.” he murmurs lowly, only causing you to twitch in his grasp more. “only f’you. nghhhh-only for you.” you respond, trying to get your hips to grind back down on him. Don nods helplessly, mind turning to mush as he has one thing and one thing only in his mind. your cunt. Don pulls out of you, manhandling you gently onto your knees. your hands grip the metal footboard, allowing you to support yourself before he lines up again, plunging into your inviting wetness. “l-love you, doll. too good to me.” Don says, lips against your shoulder. drool drips out of his mouth, pooling on your soft skin as you whine. you’re so close again, body overstimulated from the treatment you’re getting. especially when his right hand comes down to play with your nub, rubbing circles onto it, pushing you closer to another release. your legs begin to give out, knees trembling as your hands slip from the bars. “nghh Don-pleasepleaseplease.” crying out, you’re begging Don for release again, and his hips pick up to match his fingers, drilling into you with unmatched speed and precision “cmon doll, cmon. you can do it.” he whispers, panting harsh breaths. he’s close too, but he wants to feel you clamping down on him again before he fills you up. “come for me doll.” he groans in your ear, and the words send a shiver down your spine and pleasure to your cunt. his fingers work expertly, adding stimulation. when the mushroom head of his length punches against your soft spot again, you cry out, finally releasing on him again. he groans with you, pumping into you once more before spilling into you. his fat cock rubs the sides of your walls, filling you up perfectly. and when his come paints you white, the milky substance sloshing around, your body goes limp, collapsing on the bed. Dons follows not long after, the weight laying on you like a heavy blanket.

Don lets out a few breaths before picking his chest up off you, still keeping his member deep inside your pulsing warmth, letting the both of you ride out your aftershocks. his cock still twitches inside you, spurting out remnants of his release occasionally. in return, your muscles clench on him involuntarily, sucking his cum deeper into you. Don shifts, laying your body in his arms. he finally maneuvers you to the right side of the bed, tucking the two of you under blankets before kissing your cheek. “thank you doll.” he whispers in the night, when you’ve both come down from your highs and his hand rests on your hip. “thank you, Don.” is all you reply with. “that was a good reward. do I get that every time I win a race?” he teases, and you scoff. “no. not unless you compensate me for the ache that’ll follow me all of tomorrow. I’ll have a limp at the rate you were going.” you banter back. “oh im sure you can make something up.” Don says, tracing your shoulder with his pointer finger. “mm. going to explain to all my professors why I mysteriously have a limp after every won racing match.” you say. “you mean just racing match. we’re going to win them all.” he whispers, an edge of pride and confidence creeping in. he deserves it, after all the blood sweat and tears that have gone into perfecting his stroke and the time in the team. “sure. you can explain to Professor Ulbrickson why I have a limp.” Don chuckles and merely wraps you closer to him, dozing off in the Washington night.

An:yikes this one got long but like do I regret it? NOPE. LET ME HAVE HIS BABIES STILL.

-cass💕:D

😝this was so fun to write.

tags: @sassyandclassy94 and @royaltyinlife