#especially for someone shouldering it alone

[daimus]

every touch like a modified blow

Sae has always been a softer authority. 

wc — 1.6k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, omegaverse, beta sae x omega reader, my Sae is always a predator, literally the devil himself, fingering, reader is drunk, mindlessness (?) omega space (?) idk how to tag this but let me know if you need something tagged, title borrowed from an Anne Carson essay

“You’re tiresome, you know that?” 

Sae picks you up from the club in the way he likes you best: messy hair and smeared makeup and a mouth that’s begging to be kissed, pouting and bitten raw. He resists. It’s dawn. Light spills into the rosy sky like water from a glass, and you are laughing against his throat with a brightness that hurts his heart. 

“Stop that,” he says, a hand gently pressing your face against from his neck. “You know you won’t smell anything.”

He rolls his eyes at you when you paw at his scent patches anyway. The effort it takes to peel them off will be wasted. You inhale sharply as your press your nose right up against his warm, salty pulse. It’s just sweat, just skin, just Sae, but you’re breathing - panting, really - like he’s capable of giving off actual scent like an omega or an alpha. 

“Won’t you say something?” He asks. “Or am I alone in this conversation?” 

“What do you want to hear?” Your voice is dry and cracked. He gets up to pour you a glass from the pitcher. 

“Something less obsequious maybe,” he observes dryly. 

“I can’t help it,” you say, your smile darting around your mouth like a nervous animal, but why are you nervous? It’s just Sae. You're already reaching out to him even though he’s barely been gone for a minute. “It’s my biology.”

His hands are sympathetic as they stroke your hair. His words are not. “Biology is a starting point, not the end product. Don’t make excuses.” 

You go silent again. 

“And don’t huff.” 

You turn your head to bite his hand, the one petting your hair. 

“Brat,” he says fondly, and then, as if to overcorrect for the mistake of showing his affection, he pins you down against the sofa. 

Sae would never hurt you. But you love him, and love feels like fear - especially when he doesn’t tell you how he feels. Some partners say sweet things but act differently. Sae is the opposite. He doesn’t speak. You have to read everything through his actions. 

“Stay down,” he commands. “I’m going to get your makeup wipes. Don’t move.” 

He finds you halfway on the ground when he comes back, struggling to get out of your shirt, which suddenly feels two times too small. 

“You’re just begging for it, huh?” Sae says, setting the little packet of wipes down next to you. “Do you want me to punish you?” 

You throw a loose, easy smile over your right shoulder at him - or your left - it’s hard to tell when you’re on the ground contorted like this. It’s alcohol-wobbly, your smile distorted by the way your cheeks aren’t moving the way you’re used to. 

“You’re so drunk, baby,” he says, amused. 

“Want it, Sae,” you chirp up at him. “You can punish me.” 

He pats your head. It feels strangely nice. You don’t remember being pet by your parents in your youth or anyone else. Sae is the first. If he has anything to say about it, he’ll be the last. 

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to be scolded.” 

You lean into him, trying to show him what you want. It’s the way he communicates, after all, and Sae listens best when you meet him at his level. That’s how you end up in his lap, still half stuck in your shirt with your arms all but bound behind your back. 

“Punishment?” You tilt your head at him as he frees you. He runs light fingerprints over the red marks on your arms and shoulders with a soft, disapproving click of his tongue. 

“No,” he says, finally dropping his hands. “I don’t think you should get what you want. I’m going to make you feel good instead. Well-“ his mouth curves into a barely there smile that your brain registers as danger in the same way the bright color of a frog means poison. “You’re going to make yourself feel good.” 

Your brain works over this statement. “Huh?” 

You don’t understand until Sae has your panties off and is fucking two fingers into you. He’s just tall enough like this that he can kind of overwhelm you, his chin resting on top of your head, his chest to your back. 

“Go on,” he says, almost disinterestedly, like he’s not knuckle deep in your cunt. “Make yourself feel nice.” 

“Sae,” your voice rises. It’s a question. 

“Don’t be scared,” he presses a kiss against your neck, then your shoulder. His mouth is warm, not hot, but it burns against your skin. You remember the scald for longer than you should. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Sae doesn’t get mean when you’re drunk. He’s always patient and gentle with you. He never does anything you don’t want to do. He only gets more vocal, a little more rough with his language. You don’t know why vulnerability in you unlocks this in him, but it does. 

Hesitantly, you lift your hips. His other hand wraps itself around your waist, helping you bounce in his lap as you try to mimic his rhythm from what you remember. Soon enough, you grind to a halt even as the pleasure building in you protests. 

“Why’d you stop? You can’t?”

You shake your head. 

“Oh, of course.” He sounds so pleased about it. “You don’t want to.” 

You don’t even have the nerve to say it out loud, so you can only nod your head. You could get off from this, but you’d rather have him do it. The way you desire him is devastating. You’ll never be able to recover from it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

A third finger slips in, and then for the first time, Sae presses his thumb against your clit. You jerk like you’ve been shocked with electricity. 

He smothers a smile against your hair, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head, almost cat-like. You’re too busy drowning in pleasure to notice this moment, but he’ll remember this for the two of you. 

He continues to pet at your clit ruthlessly, little touches that have you choking on that growing sensation within your belly. You’re so full of him, of it, that you imagine you can taste it in the back of your throat. Something like fear has been knocked loose inside of you and the trembling grows with it. 

It’s too intense. You’re scared of it. It’s going to burn you up, inside out. It’s going to hurt as much as it feels good. 

“Relax,” Sae mutters. “Let go.” 

Your instincts are howling and scratching at you, but you have no idea what nature is telling you to do. 

“Can’t-“ you can’t stop moving even now, can’t stop chasing what you know you won’t reach. “Can’t- Sae- help me!” 

“What’s wrong?” He coos. “I told you to make yourself feel good.” 

“Sae,” his name comes out on a broken moan. “Sae.” 

All but that fades into incoherence, robbed from you by something indescribably old, written into your cells. The feeling is still building, like pressure but if pressure had sharp teeth. You gasp and hold on to him. 

Once, as a child, you ran from a flood to higher ground. This time, nothing will save you. 

Because it’s not fear, which can burn away in daylight. It’s your consciousness, whole and entire, crumbling before you and you want it. Like an animal, you want to lose all control.

If you give everything to Sae, won't he take such good care of it?

“Come on,” Sae whispers directly into your ear. “What happened to your biology?” 

He says it like a taunt, but you have nothing left in you to care. After all, he’s right. Your brain is gone and your nature has taken over. 

You turn your face against him so as to muffle your noises, loud, wet; your mouth gumming against his shirt in a mindless bite that does nothing, goes nowhere. Sae wants to hear you even more than he wants to see you when he comes, but he lets you be and focuses on working over your clit. 

“There we go,” he says softly. “There’s my omega.” 

“Alpha,” you whine back, completely lost. You’re drooling for him, so wet it leaks onto his pants. 

“Not quite,” Sae says. His mouth twitches with the knife edge of his smile, a sharp thing that there’s then gone. 

“How many do you think you can give me?” He asks. Your pussy twitches around him, aware that he’s talking but not sure what he’s really saying. 

“Sorry. Forgot you can’t reply,” he says. “We’ll play it by ear.” 

That’s okay with you. 

Sae is the jagged rocks you break yourself against. The freezing water beneath the bridge you drive off. The burn of smoke from that first drag of addiction. 

Sae is a means of self destruction that you are all too happy to use. Wanting and hungry, you always crawl back for more. 

That’s what he counts on, anyway. 

He breaks you down. You break him open. 

Inside the hard shell of him is something sweet and gooey. 

Whatever Sae is when he’s with you is doting and pliant. It coos over you like it can’t help itself. He’s not an alpha. He doesn’t dominate. There’s no need, much less desire. Sae has always been a softer authority. 

His heart is all tender for you, soft and open. 

[hockeyluvrr]

CONGRATS ON 100!!! TO MANY MANY MORE <33

I rolled a 4 with Luke Hughes and won prompt 13 !!

MASTERLIST

thank you meg!! thank you so much for requesting, hope you like it!!!

word count: 1,083

comfort prompt #13: "You've always been there for me, so please, let me be there for you now."

The silence in your room was deafening, your thoughts running wild in a way that made it almost impossible to focus. You could feel the weight of the day pressing on your chest, the things you hadn’t said, the worries you hadn’t shared—everything you’d kept bottled up for too long. It was overwhelming, suffocating. The tears that had come earlier were spent, but the heaviness remained, an invisible burden you didn’t know how to put down.

You weren’t the type to let people in easily. Vulnerability had always been a hard thing for you, especially with someone you cared about. But there was one person, one person who’d always seemed to know how to make everything feel just a little bit lighter—Luke Hughes.

You had been there for him through the highs and lows, offering support, comfort, and a safe space when the world felt too much. And now, as you sat alone in your room, you realised that maybe it was time to stop pretending like you had everything under control.

You needed someone. You needed him.

You grabbed your phone with shaky hands and hesitated for a moment before typing out a quick message:

“Hey, do you mind coming over? I could really use some company.”

Before you even had time to second-guess your decision, the reply came.

“On my way.”

The relief that washed over you was instant. Luke had always been your go-to person, your constant. It felt good to know he was going to be there, even if you couldn’t explain exactly what was going on.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at your door, and you quickly rose to answer it. When you opened the door, Luke was standing there, dressed casually in a hoodie and sweatpants, a concerned look on his face. Without saying a word, he stepped inside, immediately pulling you into a hug.

You didn’t realise how much you needed the comfort of his embrace until you felt it. His warmth surrounded you, and for a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your head resting against his chest.

“I’m here,” he murmured softly, his voice calm and steady. "I know you didn’t want to bother me, but you could never be a bother. You know that, right?"

You nodded against him, fighting the lump in your throat. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you explain everything you were feeling? How could you put into words the weight you had been carrying, the fears that had been building up for weeks?

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately,” he continued, pulling back slightly to look at you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “But you’ve always been there for me. Always. So please… let me be there for you now.”

His eyes held nothing but sincerity, the soft, caring look you knew so well. It was like he could see right through the walls you’d built up, and the thought of letting him in made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, and instead, tears filled your eyes again. Luke’s expression softened, and before you could apologise, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you tighter this time.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to explain anything right now. I’m not going anywhere. We can take it slow, alright?”

You clung to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his hoodie as you let yourself feel everything you’d been hiding for far too long. The tears came again, but this time, they felt different. There was a sense of relief in them, like you were finally allowing yourself to release everything that had been weighing on your heart.

“I’m so tired, Luke,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “Tired of pretending like I’m okay when I’m not.”

Luke’s hand gently stroked your hair, the simple gesture more comforting than you ever expected. “You don’t have to pretend for me. Not ever. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to not have all the answers. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still wet with tears but grateful for his unwavering presence. “I just feel like I’m drowning, you know? Like I’m letting everyone down, like I’m not good enough.”

“Hey.” Luke gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears. His voice was firm yet kind, filled with an intensity that made you feel safe. “You’ve never let anyone down. You’ve always been there for me, for everyone. You’re one of the strongest people I know. But it’s okay to need help, too. You don’t have to do it alone.”

His words settled deep within you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe them. You weren’t alone. Not anymore. And you didn’t have to be strong all the time. It was okay to lean on someone else for once.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter now, filled with a sense of vulnerability you hadn’t shown him before. “I should’ve let you in sooner.”

Luke shook his head, his gaze soft. “You don’t have to apologise. We all have our moments. I’m just glad you reached out.”

He moved to sit down on the couch, pulling you gently with him. You curled up next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you. His warmth was comforting, and his steady presence grounded you. You could feel the tension slowly melting away as you let yourself relax for the first time in a long while.

“You’ve got me,” Luke whispered into the silence, his voice a soft promise. “Always.”

You closed your eyes, the soothing sound of his heartbeat in your ear calming your nerves. “Thank you, Luke,” you whispered back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he replied, his voice full of quiet conviction. “I’m not going anywhere. And whenever you need me, I’ll be right here.”

You let out a shaky breath, finally allowing yourself to fall into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in the safety of his arms. In that moment, you knew everything would be okay. You weren’t alone, and for once, you didn’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.

Because Luke was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

[americas-ass-writing]

Not the game they play

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4.1k

Summary: An arranged marriage flips your life upside down. What you thought you knew about your family doesn't seem to be true at all. How will Steve and you navigate your life together?

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, a swear word here and there, insulting of Sarah Rogers, yes that needed to be a warning, difficult family relationship, if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: This is the first part of a series. I had this idea for over two years with some scenes already written out or well thought through. Thank you all for encouraging me to finally do something with it. But don't come for me, you wanted this!

I promised to tag the lovely @ronearoundblindly 🩷

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter One - Cannot stop the rain

The constant bustle of people and their conversations were a white noise like no other. One you can't concentrate on too long, especially when you have to hold conversation with whoever thought it was his turn to smooze a king.

Steve hates galas. He hates the pretentiousness that came with them and the people who attended but most of all he hates that he had no choice but to go. A king missing one of these was only excused when a serious matter arose. And those don't come by easily when you need them. He yearned for the times when he didn't need to attend these things, back when his mom still was the reigning queen and shielded him from this world. But with his mom gone he had to step up.

Gone where the days he travelled the world, studied art and made new friends. So easily replaced with duty and grief... and a stupid crown on his head. He was lucky enough he could hire his friends as staff, lucky enough his oldest friend was his right hand man and never left him alone for too long. James Bucky Barnes, his childhood defender, his best friend, his right hand and occasionally, much to Steve's dismay, his wingman. If only that would have worked out already. He seems to be casually watching people dance but in reality he watches the couples spend quality time together at a stuck up event. If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

"Senator Lee is coming up next" a smooth voice mumbles over his shoulder, Sam Wilson. A friend he found in college, a politics major and his chief of staff. Steves eyes find the older gentleman approaching him. He's talked with him before, quite often actually, and he was always so kind and encouraging.

The small talk with senator Lee went by faster than Steve anticipated. Before the next person could swoop in to talk to him he excused himself to the restroom. Bucky, his honorary security detail for the evening since he refused to take his actual one, made to follow him. "It's just the bathroom Buck. I'll be fine and I'll come straight back here." he says lowly, his eyes rolling at the antics. He didn't need this much security before he became a king. Bucky hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam who looks a bit unsure himself. "I mean... It's just the bathroom... No danger there. Nat wouldn't go inside with him either right?" Steve lets out a sigh at Sam's statement. Natasha, the head of security, ruled with an iron fist. She had all of them so scared they wouldn't dare to disobey her orders... except maybe her husband Clint but he got free passes for life.

"Right... Just come right back here?" Bucky looks at him and with a sigh and a nod Steve agrees. Before they can say anything else and before whatever lady just seems to approach them can start to talk, Steve hurries to the restroom. He locks himself in a cabin just for a few moments alone. But even those aren't truly alone.

The door to the restroom opens up not too long after him and of course that person takes ages to do their business. With a silent grumble Steve finishes up and leaves the cabin to wash his hands. Just then the door to another cabin opens and an older gentleman with thinning grey hair, in a three piece suit steps out. His eyes meet Steve's in the mirror as he walks up to the sink area himself. They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

"King Rogers." He acknowledges and Steve simply gives a nod. He isn't even safe in the fucking bathroom!

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check. Who would have thought it would take her to die for you to finally step up." The man seems calm and collected as if he didn't just insult Steve's mother.

"What the fuck did you say about my mom? Old crone?!" His blood was boiling and he was this close to hitting the old man if it weren't for his manners. His mom raised him better but she wasn't here to keep him in check was she?

"Oh calm down Steven. No need to get all flustered and angry. Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret. We'll be one happy family soon after all." The man smirked and calmly dried his hands. He teaches over and turns off Steve's tab, the blonde frozen from anger. What did he just say? He must be demented. "What?" Is all that Steve can bring out. Confused and angry and still so so close to punch that guy.

"Oh you don't know. Can't say I'm surprised, your mother shielded you a lot. Now I have to do all the explaining. That's why women should never be in charge.” he rolls his eyes. “Are you familiar with the Hastings family?" The man hands Steve one of the towels and casually leans against the sink. Hastings? Steve has heard that name before... Wasn't that the royal family that fell from grace three generations ago? His eyes flit to the man.

"Sounds familiar." Is all he can grid out. What is this man on about? Is he just here to gossip?

"Clever boy." The smirk on the old man's face is uncanny. As if he can read Steve all too well. "You know exactly who they are but instead of going off to gossip like all the other royals out there you keep your answer neutral. What a good king you make." Steve's confusion grows.

"What does the Hastings family have to do with us becoming one?" Steve bites out. "Ah straight to business. Just how I like it. You see the Hastings family and the Rogers family go way back. Many, many generations in fact. King Joseph Rogers the first and King George Hastings even made a little pact, that yes, still stands today." His eyes search Steve's face and his grin looks so satisfied. "That the families will unite as soon as there is a male and female heir born into the families. Now ever since then both families only bore strong sons with an occasional daughter that was out of the age range for marriage. That is until roughly 30 years ago. When you and my granddaughter were born just two years apart." Steve's brow lifts. The old man was a Hastings. Wanting to fulfill a deal that was made over a hundred years ago... Bullshit.

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits. The man just grins. "Oh, it will Steven. Here let your lawyers check this and then get back to me about when my granddaughter can move in with you. " He laughs and hands Steve an envelope before he walks out of the restroom and back into the gala.

Steve's eyes fall on the envelope, it's burning in his hands but he needs to get this checked. He can't marry someone because of an old deal. He can't marry someone with a grandfather daring to insult his mom that's not even been dead for a month. Steve's eyes start to burn with tears. His mom shielded him from so much while she also did her best to prepare him for this life... He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

He takes a shakey breath and swallows the lump in his throat. A brief look in the mirror, a deep breath, straightening his tie. He can't show weakness. Not here, not ever. 'Safe the tears for your bedroom, Rogers.' the voice in his head commands. He wipes away the stray tear that got caught in his lashes, pockets the envelope and with another deep breath makes his way back to his friends.

They're chatting, most likely teasing each other. As soon as Bucky sees him both heads turn to Steve with a concerned gaze swiping up and down. They seem to come to the conclusion that he's okay and relax. "We need to leave." he says as soon as he reaches them. His tone more urgent than he wanted to. "Why you got diarrhea? Took you pretty long in there... I told ya to lay it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." Bucky teases with a grin that immediately falls as soon as he sees Steves eyes. Sam can't even get his joke in before Bucky declares that they're leaving. He leads Steve to the host of the gala for a quick goodbye and then out to the car they came in.

Within 10 minutes they're on the road. For the first time with only the three of them in the car, Steve pulls up the divider for privacy. Shielded from Sam and Bucky, he allows himself to spill a few tears for his mother before he can make it to the safety of his bedroom. He knows that will be away for another few hours, especially with the envelope that's burning a hole into his pocket.

Ever since you were young your family hasn't cared much for you. The only thing that was important to them was that you did exactly what they wanted... in every aspect of your life. You got the education they wanted, you went to college for what they wanted and you hid your interests to make them like you. At the beginning of your twenties you finally broke out of that circle. You moved far away with your friend and only occasionally visited for important matters, much to their dismay. Just like you were now.

The train ride never isn't boring, even with a good book and music. The most thrilling plot or the most beautiful lyrics couldn't distract you from the stranger sitting next to you. Somehow you always had the luck of them eating something disgusting, talking loudly on the phone, constantly bumping into you or being a stranger to the concept of headphones.

Your eyes wander over to your friend and her husband for the millionth time. They were sitting together, cuddling, yet somehow each minding their own business. Her husband looking out of the window, headphones in, music on and daydreaming. Your friend reading the newest book from her favourite author. How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

You let out a sigh. You've been single for so long... a partner was still written in the stars and wouldn't come by anytime soon. So you'd have to deal with strangers next to you on the train, the couch for yourself and your family constantly badgering you when you'd move back and find a partner. It's not like you planned being almost thirty and still single. As a child you dreamed about being married with children at this age. Maybe having a little house and a dog. You wanted to be surrounded by friends, leave your family out of it as much as you could. Just enjoy life with your partner. But here you were, still alone. Maybe wallowing in self pity at a life that could have been would be a good way to pass time till you were back at your family's place.

You pull your suitcase after you. The walk from the train station wasn't too long and you know better than to ask anyone to pick you up. You don't want to inconvenience them or owe them. Last time you asked your mother and she made you wash all the dishes from the family party by hand after you played waitress during the entirety of it. You'd rather choose walking 30 minutes to the house than do that again.

As you come closer you spot your grandpa's car in the driveway. He must be here to oversee the preparations for his birthday party tomorrow. You briefly look down at yourself, jeans and t-shirt. It looks good enough but you already know you'd be criticised left and right. Never enough for them.

With a deep breath you ring the doorbell and wait. It's not too long before the door opens to reveal your mother. She takes in your appearance and sneers before she greets you. She steps to the side to let you in. "You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." She grumbles before she goes to the living room to announce that you're here. Well if you knew your grandpa would be here a day early you would have tried to wear something nicer. You leave your suitcase next to the door and follow her into the living room. You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

"Enough. Let's not ruin this joyful day for our family." He announces before he gets up and stands next to you. Joyful day? What happened? Did he finally win the lottery? You look at him confused.

"You all need to learn to not criticise her so much anymore. After all it would be a bad image to her fiancé and the press." Everyone nods along as if what he said did make any sense. Even your father who usually only shows interest for the drink in front of him, nods along. Has he got dementia since the last time you visited? "What?" Is all you can bring out at which your mother scoffs.

"Well dear... It took you a long time to find a partner, which in hindsight I'm very grateful about. You know our family has a long history and its history and glory shall be restored soon enough.” Your grandpa declares like it's some victory. “Many hundred years ago our ancestors made a deal with the royal family of Brooken. The first heirs of opposite sex shall marry and unite our families. It just never worked out age wise until you came along. Born just two years after the now reigning King Steven Rogers." He explains and you're absolutely sure they all lost their damn minds. No royal family would make a deal with commoners, especially back then.

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing. They all looked rather serious... And the house looked so clean... Was this not a joke?

"This... This has to be a joke...?" You say, looking at him with desperation. "Why would it be? You'll restore the Hasting family's glory and finally be of use to us.” your heart breaks a little more. Were you truly this worthless? Did nothing you did for them before count? You look up at them, desperate to find any sign that this wasn't true. That they were playing a prank. The stone faces of your parents and siblings look back at you. This... This wasn't a joke. They'd marry you off to some stranger. To a king? To gain what? What about your life? What about your place? Your job? You can't just leave that behind for some king who's probably a huge asshole... Your long fought for freedom taken by your family and that guy. Back under control, every move watched and criticised.

The rest of the day has been cruel. Your family was between joy at your engagement to a king and anger at you trying to refuse. In-between all the explaining, that really didn't give you any new information or any that would make sense of the situation, you texted your friend which promised to call you later.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want. And in his castle? I probably won't even be allowed to hang a picture on the wall. There'll be people watching my every move and reporting back to him. I'll be just as miserable as I used to be at my parents place.” The white of the ceiling starts to become blurry with the tears that are about to spill. “What if I can never see you again? What if he won't let me have any friends?” Your voice breaks at the thought.

“He doesn't look like he'd be such an asshole. He looks nice and the articles write nice things about him too.” She reasons. “Yeah and who has big influence on the press? Him. Of course they wouldn't write anything bad about him.” You complain. “They have written not so nice things about him. Especially with him grieving his mother…” that you do feel sorry for. They seemed to have a good relationship, losing a loving parent isn't easy. “Give him a chance. You never know maybe he's a prince charming.” Her voice sounds encouraging.

“What does a king even want with a commoner? Why would a king make a deal like that hundreds of years ago? I don't get it…” you question. “Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.” At that you snort a bit. “Maybe… he seems eager to get married. My family is eager for this. Why am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Your hands pick on the scratchy blanket your mother put on the guest bed for you. “Because you're the one who loses a lot for this. Your family gains royalty… at least they'll be royal adjacent? I mean they do have the stick up their asses like royals already. And he gains a wife? Dating must be hard when you're a king.” She muses. “His last relationship was six years ago. His ex left him for another prince and got married like a year after.” You hum at the information she found. His whole life could be found on the internet which makes you wonder what he even knows about you? Your family didn't even know you so he couldn't even get something accurate from them.

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?” you sigh at your friends offer but ultimately agree. You'll try, it's not like you can leave the house and flee without your family noticing and coming for you anyways. You place your phone on the nightstand and cuddle up in bed. Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

"Sorry Steve... I can check a few more things but this is airtight... They can force you to marry that girl..." his lawyer says. Steve sighs and looks up from his desk to look at the brunette who meets him with a warm empathetic smile. Maria Hill, top of her class, badass in their softball team and brilliant lawyer. Steve recommended her to his mom when the old lawyer retired. Maria showed her wits and was hired within two hours of her interview.

"There's no way a deal from over a hundred years ago still holds up! You're telling me there was not a single occasion where this desk could have already been fulfilled? Aren't the Hastings fucking hornballs with so many family members? They're not even royal anymore! How does this hold up?" Bucky rants, clearly trying to protect his friend. Maria meets his eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

"Well if you want to go through the entire family trees and history to try and prove that be my guest. Matter of fact is that King Joseph and King George thought of everything in their agreement. Even the downfall of royalty... Or in this case the downfall of one royal family. This seems to be their way back. Making Steve marry the granddaughter so at least she is tuly royal." Maria says dryly. "I will check it over once more. I think we all should get as much rest as this night still offers but... don't get your hopes up Steve." She adds as she gets up and takes the contract that was in the envelope before. "What if we kill her. Can't marry someone that's dead" Bucky suggests and immediately gets a slap on the back of his head from Sam.

"As your lawyer I would advice against the murder of the future spouse of your best friend. You'd be one of the first suspects and I'm sorry to say this Barnes but your pokerface isn't as great as you'd like to think." Maria states before she looks at Steve. He's exhausted, his face in his hands, his hair ruffled. "Go to bed Steve." She says softly, worried about her friend.

Steve let's out a sigh and gets up. "Dismissed. Good night." Is all he can say before he drags himself out of his office and up the stairs. His mind is a flurry of thoughts that just won't shut up no matter how much he tries. He lets out a sigh as soon as he reaches the third floor. To the left is his room, to the right the room of his mother. His legs move on their own, carrying him to the portrait of her that's covered in a black veil. In the last month he often stood in front of it. He wished it good night before he'd get in bed. Just like he planned to do today.

"Night mom..." He whispers, the tears in his eyes returning once more. "This is all so hard without you… you would know what to do with this stupid deal… I wish you were here." his voice breaks at that. He gulps and tries to hold back his tears. He isn't in the safety of his own bedroom yet. But he isn't sure he's gonna make it till there. His eyes wander to his door, so far away, and back to the portrait. He gulps and moves towards her door. Her room is safe too. Even if it brings sad memories.

He softly closes the door behind him, his eyes falling onto her bed. He'd often sleep with her as a child. When he had nightmares, when he was upset about his father dying, when he was sick. Just one more time he tells himself and takes off his shoes. He can sleep in the sweatpants and shirt he put on earlier, he doesn't need a fancy pyjama set. Hesitantly he slips under the yellow covers. His nose immediately fills with her scent. Her favourite laundry detergent mixed with her perfume and he can't hold back the tears any longer. The dam breaks and he sobs into her pillow. After many minutes of crying he falls asleep enveloped by her one more time.

[cece693]

Man, I'm obsessed with anything related to vampires and Hannibal & Will. And your Hannigram x Vampire male reader work had me thinking about Alucard from Castlevania, especially from Castlevania Nocturne. I'm daydreaming about it all the time at this point. Here and here. Isn't he just so gorgeous and ethereal? You should watch Castlevania if you haven't seen it before. What I'm saying is, can I have more Hannigram x Vampire reader stuff? I'm daydreaming about Will and Hannibal falling for some who knows how many centuries-old (Alucard was born in 1456 and since Hannibal NBC takes place somewhere around the 2010s, he would be around 554 years old. Man, that's half a millennia) dhampir (half-vampire) with mid-back long, luscious platinum-blonde hair, gorgeous golden eyes and a handsome face. Love your work, by the way, amazing writings❤️

Of Blood and Moonlight

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: your a vampire hybrid, hannigram aren't together yet but will be, I haven't seen the show but he does look beautiful, new obsession perhaps?

You’ve walked among mortals for centuries. Ages have passed, empires risen and fallen, and you have always stood at the outskirts, watching. You are neither fully vampire nor wholly human—a dhampir, caught between two worlds. Some nights, it makes you feel invincible. Others, it leaves you burning with longing.

Tonight, the moon gleams overhead, a quiet silver disc in the sky, as you step along the streets of Baltimore. Your platinum-blonde hair catches the moonlight like spun silver, while your golden eyes are darkened with centuries’ worth of memories. Despite the hush of the city at such a late hour, you sense someone watching. Not an uncommon occurrence, but you can’t help the faint grin tugging at your lips.

He has found you again.

“Are you lost?” comes a soft, cautious voice from behind you.

Turning, you greet the man standing there with a faint nod. Under the lone streetlamp’s glow, you see the tension in Will Graham’s stance. His dark curls seem to frame a gaze that flickers between curiosity and empathy. You know that gaze well, the powerful empathy that draws him to wounded creatures—whether they walk on four legs or two. Or, in your case, something else entirely.

You offer him a slight bow of your head. “No,” you murmur. “Just alone.”

He studies your face. Anyone else might see only a handsome stranger, but Will senses the echo of something deeper—something not quite human. His brows knit gently. “There’s an emptiness around you,” he says, half to himself, half to you. “It’s like…” His words trail off.

You find yourself stepping closer, hair whispering over your shoulders. You speak with a calmness that’s centuries in the making. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Will only half-smiles. “Not sure yet.”

In the hush that follows, there is a faint rustle—another presence stepping out from the darkness. You turn sharply, your heightened senses recognizing this man even before your gaze can land on him. Hannibal Lecter’s refined aura precedes him. He stands just beyond the reach of the streetlamp, wearing a dark overcoat, and in his eyes glimmers a blend of intense curiosity and quiet fascination.

“I see you’ve met Will,” he says with his measured cadence. His voice is smooth, cultured, every syllable perfectly placed. “I’m Hannibal Lecter.”

You simply give him a polite, centuries-old courtesy nod, your own brand of chivalry. “I’m aware,” you say, giving a secretive little smile.

Hannibal inclines his head with intrigue. “You know me?”

“I’ve heard stories,” you murmur. You keep your own secrets well—this is one of the many reasons you have survived so long. You know these two are not ordinary men. One hunts monsters; the other one is a monster in human skin. Yet you sense no threat. In your long existence, you’ve learned that sometimes the most unlikely of bonds can be formed over fascination and darkness.

Your first night at Hannibal’s lavish home is a carefully orchestrated affair. You don’t need an invitation to slip into his world—some unspoken magnetism exists between you three. You come at his request, long hair tied loosely back, golden eyes absorbing the soft glow of the dining room. A single red candle flickers at the center of the table. The scents of rosemary and thyme float through the air. There’s a subtle, rich undercurrent that might disquiet a normal human. To you, it’s enticing. Hannibal’s eyes track your every move, while Will watches with a mix of wariness and longing.

Hannibal, always poised, presents a decadent meal. His skill with cuisine is legendary, and you admire his artistry—even if you have suspicions about certain ingredients. Your golden eyes flick to the plate with mild curiosity, then you raise them to Will and Hannibal. “I don’t typically partake in…human fare,” you say politely, leaning back into the chair. The flickering candlelight dances against your pale features.

Hannibal offers a gracious incline of his head. “No insult taken. I understand if your habits differ.”

Will’s mouth quirks at one corner. “You can tell us about yourself instead.”

They watch your every breath as you trace a fingertip around the lip of your wine glass. You let the tension wind in the air, enjoying their rapt attention. “I have existed for many years,” you begin. “Centuries, if you will. Time has a way of dulling the senses, which is why I search for new experiences…” Your eyes flash gold. “And interesting company.” There’s a flutter in Will’s chest. He can’t hide it; you hear the slight hitch in his breath. Hannibal’s eyes reveal satisfaction, his curiosity mounting.

It’s Will who first breaks down the walls. Over the following weeks, you find yourself drawn to him—his empathy, his vulnerability, his unwavering desire to understand even the darkest parts of others. On more than one occasion, you and Will take late-night walks through the woods behind his house. He confides in you the weight of nightmares, of feeling too deeply. You softly explain that time dulls certain pains, but your ancient heart remains capable of new scars.

One evening, the moon is bright overhead, silver illuminating every strand of your platinum hair, your golden eyes gleaming. Will suddenly stops, turning to face you. “How do you stand it?” he asks, voice thick with emotion. “How do you bear seeing so much and going on forever?”

You tilt your head. You’ve asked yourself the same question countless times. “I survive by allowing myself to savor the rare beauties of the world—like quiet nights, moonlit forests,” you say, stepping closer. You can almost hear the rush of blood in his veins, and your fangs ache. “And souls that fascinate me.”

His cheeks flush, not from fear, but from a sense of closeness he’s never quite felt with anyone else. A heartbeat passes, and he lunges forward, pressing his lips to yours. It’s a sudden, urgent kiss. You respond in kind, centuries of loneliness dissolving in the warmth that is Will Graham’s humanity.

Hannibal Lecter is different. Where Will is stormy and turbulent with empathy, Hannibal is cold fire, methodical in his pursuit of what intrigues him. His interest in you has grown with every meeting. You catch the traces of desire in the way his dark eyes slide over your face, your hair, your body. He is unflinching.

One evening, you accept another invitation to his home. You arrive just as a violin concerto plays softly on his stereo. He bids you to follow him to his parlor, where two glasses of deep burgundy wine await. “I took the liberty of procuring something special,” he says, handing you a wine glass filled with a liquid that is not wine. You inhale the scent—thick, coppery. It’s fresh blood, carefully warmed, laced with delicate notes of something akin to sweet spice. Your centuries-honed senses reel.

He sits across from you, elbows on his knees, studying your reaction. His voice is low. “I trust it meets your needs.”

Your eyes narrow slightly. “You toy with danger, Dr. Lecter.”

A hint of a smile crosses his face. “Danger is so often misunderstood. I prefer to consider it an exploration.” You sip—carefully, indulgently—and you feel his dark gaze track every movement of your throat. It is an intimate, visceral moment. The air thickens with unspoken tension.

In the hush, you lock eyes with him. “And what do you want to discover?”

Hannibal sets his wine aside, rising to stand before you. He tilts your chin upward with clinical gentleness, the pressure of his fingertips both polite and possessive. “Whether something as timeless as you can feel obsession or even love.” You let him bend to kiss you, a languorous brush of lips that tastes of fine wine and predatory indulgence. Like a snake around its prey, but you—oh, you are no helpless creature. You return the kiss with equal fervor, letting him sense the centuries of want coiled behind your restraint.

In time, you find yourself often in the quiet presence of both Hannibal and Will. They form a precarious balance—Will’s empathy bridging the darkness, Hannibal’s refined cruelty tempered by genuine fascination. They both watch you with desires they are only just beginning to articulate.

Will’s eyes shift from Hannibal to you. “It’s strange,” he admits one night after dinner, a meal that you’ve politely observed but not partaken in. “How could we…share this?”

Hannibal levels a gaze at Will. “Do you think we can’t?” His gaze drifts to you. “Is it not possible to crave more than one kind of beauty?”

You say nothing at first, letting them speak. In your centuries, you’ve known all varieties of hunger, passion, and love. Humans have so many rules, so many limitations. But Hannibal has broken them, and Will has shattered them in his need for connection. Leaning forward, you entwine your fingers with Will’s, and with your free hand, you brush a pale strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve lived so long, I’ve learned that hearts can hold multitudes.”

Will’s breathing quickens, his cheeks flushing. You sense Hannibal’s pulse, steady yet heavier, as he slips behind you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. For a moment, you close your golden eyes and let the swirl of your centuries melt into the present—this closeness, this strange connection.

The nights that follow blur into a tapestry of music, whispered confessions, and clandestine hunts through the city’s shadows. Sometimes you walk with Will beneath the stars, the hush of midnight an unspoken promise of safety. Other times, Hannibal lures you into hushed corners of his home, drawing you into sharp-edged kisses.

You’ve never belonged to anyone—nor have they. Yet you discover a kind of belonging here that is both enthralling and perilous. Hannibal’s presence is a constant danger, and Will’s precarious grip on his own self flickers daily. But for you, who’ve roamed centuries alone, this dual dance of desire is the most alive you’ve felt in ages. They see you as both a riddle and a comfort. They see your beauty—and your deadly potential. You are not monstrous to them; you are mesmerizing, as they are to you.

One late hour, the three of you gather in Hannibal’s drawing room. Crimson curtains filter the moonlight, casting the space in deep shadows. You stand between them—Will on your left, Hannibal on your right—each with an arm around your waist, their breaths close, hearts beating to different tempos yet syncing in one intangible thread of belonging.

“You’ve survived so long,” Will murmurs, pressing a cautious kiss to your neck, “will we be enough to keep you from drifting away?”

Hannibal’s voice flows smoothly, low and intimate. “Or will you watch us wither as the centuries continue on?”

Your lips curve into a wistful smile. “I cannot stop time, nor change the nature of my being.” You lower your gaze, hair drifting forward like a pale curtain, before lifting your eyes to them both—golden irises filled with an ancient warmth. “But I’ve learned that each moment we grasp is ours alone. What’s important is not how long it lasts, but that we truly live it.” Hannibal’s hand tightens at your waist, a promise if ever there was one. Will hides his face in your neck, his empathy bridging the eternity between you.

[bluemotifofsleep]

Appetite

suna rintarou x reader

- and when he’d kissed you that first time, with all of the hunger of a man at the end of the world indulging in his last meal, you should have seen it as the sign it was.

content: alcohol consumption, swearing, slight dub-con but very slight, smut, unsafe sex, corruption kink, size kink, choking (oops) , plot what plot, inappropriate amount of use of the word “baby” , not beta read

this came from a very decrepit part of my mind, enjoy.

~

“ya look real stiff, ya know. loosen up.”

for atsumu to tell you those words was like asking a fish to breath air. it was wholly against your character to “loosen up”, especially at a party like this one.

you’d been dragged here by the twins, both arguing that “it’s collage! yer gonna miss out on all the fun if ya stay in yer room readin’ books the whole time.” and for the first time, you’d had nothing to negotiate with. you had no upcoming assignments, no papers due to otherwise busy yourself with. and so you’d been dragged.

it was not your scene.

the bustle of the party jostled you every now and then in the unfamiliar kitchen you were standing in. the bass of the music loud enough to drown out your own heartbeat in your ears, the rush of blood that started when you’d entered the place and hadn’t stopped since.

you felt like a dolphin dropped into the sahara desert. a lone imposter amongst the other students your age. the people shouting and frat-flicking and on a completely different planet than you were. you feel entirely alone in your predicament.

you really, really shouldn’t be here.

and it’s not your first party, but most others were small hangouts, things that probably wouldn’t even qualify as parties at all. this one was huge, the sheer number of people making you feel claustrophobic in the small student apartment you were all crammed into. your only saving grace was the twins, who you’d made promise you they wouldn’t ditch your side the whole night.

the twins who are currently bickering on over who can make a better cocktail, even though you’d assured them you didn’t want it regardless. but now atsumu is shoving a red plastic cup smelling strongly of vodka that’s somehow already sticky on the sides into your hands and telling you to “drink up!”.

you… really shouldn’t. last time you drank with the twins all three of you ended up taking turns puking into your toilet, and the hangover the next day was something for the ages. you really shouldn’t.

but alcohol gives you the promise of drowning out this buzz under your skin, the need to hide from all these prying eyes. it’ll ease your tensions a bit, make your mouth looser and enable you to have a decent conversation with someone without the fear of saying something wrong looming over you.

alright, you’ll just have one drink. just one.

well, four cups later and you’d already forgotten your quota. it’d been a while since the last time you drank, so the alcohol made quick work of fucking up your system, leaking into your muscles and making your eyes droop. your thoughts were little clouds floating across your skull, not sticking around long enough for you to worry about them at all.

maybe the music was getting louder, or maybe you just started paying attention to it better. it felt like the bass traveled up through your feet and into your skull, rattling your nerves and adding to the buzz your whole body put out.

you vaguely register that the twins are fighting again, something about grey goose or absolut tasting better. all of it tasted like trash, you wanted to say, but the words got stuck like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth as a chill went up your spine.

someone’s staring.

even in your inebriated consciensness, you can feel eyes on you like a dagger in your back. it manages to slither in before the alcohol can subdue it, tickling up your spine like a snake.

before you can turn around to find the culprit, atsumu is lighting up and yelling “sunarin!” over your shoulder, way too fucking close to your ear in your opinion.

and more like a wild animal than a man, suna rintarou creeps around the side of you and into your vision, and you realized that the feeling of being watched never left.

“where ya been? haven’t even seen ya all night.” it’s osamu speaking now, and you notice that his words are slurring slightly. it makes you feel better that your not the only one fucked up.

“me and gin just got here, i like to show up later to these things.” his voice is like honey in your ears, and for some reason it reaches through your drunkenness and scratches at something gooey inside of your chest. you can’t tell if you like the feeling or not.

“this is sunarin, he’s on the volleyball team with me n’ ‘samu.” atsumu slurs to you, and you want to say “i know, dumbass. i watch you guys all the time” but the words get caught in your throat when suna turns to you, looming over you like a predator.

“i’ve seen you before, in the stands.” the thought of him picking you out of a crowd of strangers scratches at that weird thing inside you, and it makes you feel a bit trapped for some reason.

all that comes out of your mouth is your name, a poor introduction but one nonetheless. the alcohol is making it hard to form thoughts, or maybe it’s just the way suna is looking at you.

when he repeats your name, your ears light up bright hot, blood rushing to your head and making you feel dizzy with his voice.

“oh yeah? sunarins noticed ya.” atsumu waggles his eyebrows stupidly at you, and you didn’t notice he’d put his arm around you but he jostles you side to side like a prize to be won. you want to punch him in the gut.

“ah, there’s gin. let’s go say hi ta him.” osamu says, and then both of your safety blankets are leaving you with this man that you barely know who does weird things to your stomach. you have half a mind to shoot your hand out and grab at osamu before he gets away but you’d feel like a baby if you did, so it says shock still beside you.

when you look up at suna, he’s already looking at you. something you can’t name in his eyes. if you saw it on a wild animal in the woods you’d think you’re about to be eaten alive. but on him? you don’t know what it makes you think. maybe that you should have grabbed osamus arm when you had a chance.

“hey, you doing okay? you look a little out of it.” his words ring out in the space between you, and there isn’t a trace of genuine concern in his voice. it sounds smug to your ears, something too sharp for your drunk brain to register. somehow it feels like a warning. a bright neon sign saying “turn back now” or “wrong way”.

it’s just you. you want to reply to him. it’s just him making you sway slightly from side to side, it’s just him causing the buzzing under your skin, it’s just him clouding your thoughts and making it hard to open your mouth and reply.

“i think i, um, might need some water.” comes out instead, and he smirks like he’s been waiting for you to say that, like your a bug that just crawled under his shoe.

“i’ll get you some.” and then he’s gone, taking with him his suffocating presence that had been slowly squeezing you tighter. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders sinking with it.

who is this guy?

he returns with a glass of water before you can answer your own question. when you reach for it he just shakes his head.

“i’ll do it, so you don’t spill all over yourself.” you want to reply im not that drunk, but then you realize that your hands are shaking, and you wonder if it’s the alcohol, or if it’s-

the cup in his hand descends towards your mouth before you can finish your thought. against your better judgment, you part your lips so he can fit the cold rim of the glass in between them. he puts his hand on your shoulder to steady you, but his thumb creeps upwards towards your neck, dangerously close to your throat, thumbing at the soft skin there. the touch makes tingles shoot out from the point of connection, and you almost forget how to swallow when the water touches your lips.

when the first rush of cold water enters your mouth, you gulp it down greedily. this is normal, right? he’s just helping you, making sure you don’t ‘spill all over yourself’, there’s no other intention behind his actions. but when you look up and meet sunas eyes looking down at you, you almost choke on the water in your throat.

the look is something you can only describe as hungry. you feel like you’re looking into a black hole, something with no end. something you could fall into and never reach the bottom of, free falling with your stomach in your throat, and you can’t tell if your leaning towards it or away from it.

you feel dizzy, partially from a lack of oxygen and partially from his gaze washing over you in a flash of heat. goosebumps prickle up from your skin, an accute awareness in where his hand is sitting on your shoulder.

you grab at his wrist and tug to get him to pull the cup back, because it didn’t seem like he wanted to stop anytime soon, like he was trying to fucking drown you. you gulp the air into your lungs greedily. the feeling in your head gets doubled, a whirling feeling like you can’t tell up from down. luckily his hand is still on you stabilizing you, or you embarrassingly might’ve have fallen.

“all better?” and fuck, you’d missed his voice in the few minutes since he last spoke. the shivers running down your spine are getting addictive, the rush of adrenaline awakening something inside you that’s been dormant for years.

you want to tug him down into you and show him just how much better you’re feeling but you hum out a conformation instead, the vibrations flowing through you and adding to the buzz your feeling.

he gulps down the rest of the water you’d left behind, and you watch his throat swallow greedily. you want to reach out and drag your fingers along it, feel his pulse and confirm he is human and not something sent down from heaven to test your resolve.

he doesn’t break eye contact while he drinks, looking at you parched as if he isn’t drinking water at all. the cosmos’s that are his irises threatening to drink you instead, merge you into one.

it’s getting harder to say that you don’t want that, too.

the only break you get is when he places the empty glass on the counter, and then his gaze is eating you up again, clawing at your nerves. when he breaks eye contact, you realize it’s just to get a better look at you, the whole of you. it feels like you’ve suddenly stripped naked in from of him, shedding your skin and muscle too. giving him unlimited access to your nerves, your heart.

“you sure? you still look out of it.” his words are goading, trying to convince you as much as himself. trying to wriggle into your mind and turn off the switch that lets you have your own thoughts, trying to take control. “you want to go somewhere quiet?”

and as normally innocent the words would be on their own, the look he’s giving you indicates it’s a very important question. life, or death. up, or down. will you sink, or swim?

will he drown you?

just like you took that first sip of alcohol that night, you slip your hand into his waiting one. you choose the path you shouldn’t, but it’s tugging you down regardless.

the face he makes when you do, though, almost makes you regret it. it’s something just past the point of hunger, something a predator makes before they pounce. before you have time to reconsider, he’s dragging you down the dark hallway into a room along the side of it, shutting the door behind you. you can’t tell if he locks it, a thought that tingles along the back of your spine in trepidation.

“you should sit down.” it’s worded like a suggestion but his voice falls flat. instead of waiting for you to make the decision on your own, he backs you with his tall frame and wide shoulders until the back of your legs hit the matress. unfortunately, you don’t have the balance to stay upright so your ass lands on the bed with a bounce, causing him to loom over you even more than he already did.

this entire situation feels like a game of chess, analyzing his moves, but you don’t know if you want to win or lose. should you concede? flick your king over so he can advance?

you dont have to, he’s already moving in. you dont need to give him permission, spread your legs to make room for him, he’s bending down and making room for himself.

kneeling in between your legs, he doesn’t look any smaller, and it’s an insane thought. he’d tower over you laying down.

“i’ve noticed you, at every game you’ve been to.” his hand is reaching around your throat, somehow dwarfing you again in a new way, tilting your head up towards him. “fuck, how could i not.” then he’s squeeeezing his hand ever so slightly with his words, and your eyes are almost fucking crossing at the pressure, the feeling between your legs changing from an ache to a throb.

“with your cute little skirts, barely even covering your ass.” he’s flipping the skirt your wearing now up, flashing your panties and making your cheeks warm even hotter.

“and the way you congratulate the twins after every win, almost makes me jealous.” there’s that feeling again, something hot in your chest that makes you want to run out of here before you lose yourself completely to him. before you get swallowed whole.

but he’s leaning his mouth down to where he has your chin tilted up with his thumb, so even if you wanted to run, your legs turn to jelly underneath you, useless.

and, ah, this is where those hungry gazes come to fruition. because if you thought his eyes were eating you alive, his mouth was devouring you.

your head tilts back against his onslaught despite yourself, your neck losing the ability to keep your head up properly, but he’s squeezing your throat to keep you in place. his other hand makes its way from your thigh to the back of your head, giving him the power to deepen the kiss into something even more decrepit and dangerous.

he licks into your mouth, and it feels like he’s exploring your mind with it, and you fucking mewl.

the kiss is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, not that you had much experience to begin with. should it feel like this? he licks along your gums, unable to get enough of your mouth. should it feel like drowning?

when his hand moves from your neck, it slides down your body. you almost think he’s reaching for your skirt again until he goes back up, under your shirt.

the first squeeze of his big hand on you causes your lips to open against his and you breath a moan into his open mouth. he sucks it in greedily.

“fuck, baby. so fucking sensitive, huh?” just to prove his point, he reaches a thumb under your bra to flick at your nipple, and all you can do is squeeze your legs around him and whimper into the air between you.

he groans, something deep and guttural, and it washes over you in another wave of heat. you want more. you want to hear what other sounds he can make.

all you can express outwardly is another whine when his mouth descends onto your neck. he’s sucking on the skin there, and you feel devoured again. especially when he ads his teeth to the mixture of pleasure, dragging them against your fragile skin while his hand that used to hold the back of your head drops to your panties.

the first swipe of the thumb against the outside of your underwear has any remaining thoughts slipping form your mind. your spine threatens to give out completely underneath you, and you teeter against suna before you fall backwards into the matress.

you make it as far as one breath full of air before he’s following you down, climbing over you and lifting beneath your armpits to slide you further up the mattress, pressing one of his legs in between yours.

when he leans back down to kiss you again, your moan has no where to go while he rubs his thigh against you, his hand still shoved up your shirt.

fuck, you feel overwhelmed. his presence shrouds over you and overrides your nerves, making your limbs feel useless and liquid beside you. when he pulls back to look over you again, he smirks at what you only can imagine is the image of a disheveled mess.

“suna,” jesus, since when does your voice sound so whiny? you can’t worry about it much when you need his mouth back on you, you need his hands everywhere. “please.”

he grins like he’s caught you, something wide and full of teeth.

“please what, baby?” you can feel his hand dragging back up your front, tugging your shirt up with it and letting cold air onto your steaming skin. “need me to go get you some more water?” but he looks like you’d have to drag him off you, no intention of leaving, his question coming out teasing instead of genuine.

fuck, how can you explain what you need from him? need you everywhere, you want to say to him, but he’d probably take that as an opening to tease you again. instead of words, you’ll show him what you need.

despite you arms feeling numb, you drag them up your torso and start unbuttoning your shirt with suna’s hand still tucked underneath. unfortunately, you’re too drunk (yeah, you’ll blame it on the alcohol and not on him) to get the buttons out. fortunately, suna takes pity on you.

not before smirking wolfishly at the blatant display of what he was doing to you, of course.

he makes quick work of your shirt and then his own, tossing them somewhere you scarily cant see and then giving the same treatment to your bra. when you’re bare except for your skirt and panties, he doesn’t give you time to be embarrassed before he’s leaning down and kissing you again.

suna kisses like a man fucking starved, his tongue finding places in your mouth you didn’t even know you had. it makes you so delirious you don’t even realized he’s pushed aside your panties with two fingers. so when he sinks those same fingers into you, you bite down on his lip, hard.

all he does is groan again, in that same deep way that makes you feel a bit lost inside him.

“fuck, baby, you’re sucking me right in.” why did he have to have such a filthy mouth? you want to cover your face with your hands, hide from his hungry gaze. but he’s right, you can hear yourself over the sound of your whimpers, the thick squelch that tells you his fingers are finding no resistance at all against you.

“suna, i need- ah!” before you have the chance to tell him to fucking move he’s curling his fingers expertly against you, finding a spot inside you that makes pleasure shoot out into your arms and legs, causing you to moan unabashedly into the air while your spine arches against him.

fuck, you hope he locked that door earlier.

“you look so good like this under me.” his words don’t even register to you when he starts pumping his fingers in and out, the drag of them against your walls something delicious and addicting.

your eyes are slipping shut in pleasure, your head dipping back against the pillow behind you, but a hand grabs at your jaw and tilts it up again.

“nuh uh, sweetheart.” he does something particularly wicked with his wrist that has your eyes shooting open and a filthy moan falling from your mouth. “good girl, keep your eyes on me. i’m going to make it all better, okay?.”

make what better? make this fire inside your gut go out? yes, please, you want to say, but all your throat seems capable of doing is whining brokenly.

when his fingers pull out of you, you almost feel like you’re going to cry from the loss. then you hear the sound of his pants unzipping and you don’t have the brain power to miss his fingers when his cock is pressing against your entrance.

when he slides home, it feels like an epiphany. an “aha!” moment that you can’t help but feel tracks back to that first moment you’d felt eyes on you, like this was bound to happen. the second he’d seen you, he’d set your future in stone.

he groans like he’s just tasted water after hours in a desert, like the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him was something he needed to survive.

it feels like he’s hitting ground zero inside you, striking up the nerves deep inside and causing fireworks to explode in your stomach. you can’t help but let out a gasp when he pulls out half way, and slams back into you twice as hard. you grip onto his shoulders just to feel grounded, just to have something to tether you back down to earth, and he gasps when your nails dig into his skin.

then he’s pulling back, and fucking into you for real. hard thrusts that make you see stars every time they connect, hitting that point inside you that threatens to shatter you in two.

“fuck, baby, this what you needed?” you’re moaning, whimpering in agreement to his words. “that first time you looked up at me, ah fuck, this is what you were begging for, right?” but his words are lost on you, because he’s reached his hand down onto your throat again and starts squeezing.

there’s something devastating building up inside you, something so powerful you feel tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. the pressure on your throat is limiting blood flow to your head, causing a floating sensation that just ads to the fire building in your core.

he reaches down and kisses you again, and you’re fucking gone.

it’s absolute oblivion. something that feels like it tears through you and leaves nothing behind. all you can do is dig your nails harder into his back and chant suna, suna, suna against his lips.

he groans like your cunt clamped down on him hurts, but he just thrusts harder into you, chasing his own end.

when he does, he moans into your mouth, and in your post-orgasm dazed brain you think it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. he thrusts one more time, hard and deep into you and then he collapses against you.

you’re spent. your limbs are limp against the mattress, your breathing stuttered, your heartbeat fast and fluttering against your ribcage.

you can vaguely register his lips kissing your collar bone, but your consciousness is starting to leak out of you. a result of your epic comedown, an adrenaline crash that sucked the life right out of you.

just as your eyes flutter closed and the darkness fades in, you hear suna one last time.

“knew from the fucking second i saw you, baby,” and your brain is leaking into oblivion, your thoughts a slew of darkness seeping across the inside of your skull. “that i could make you mine.”

~

[fawnwilde]

Taboo I gratitude .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dutch van der linde x reader

◃◃ [chapters] ▹▹

rating: explicit (18+)

You wake up in a camp surrounded by outlaws. but they're really not as bad as you feared.

Especially the gangs leader, dutch van der linde, who inspires new desires in you...

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, inexperienced reader, older man younger woman, v fingering, cowgirl position, this is filthy and my ancestors r frowning up at me

word count: 6.5k

You wake up in an unfamiliar place.

Canvas walls surround you, objects littered around as if this was someone's home, crammed into a small space. A blanket covers you, warmer and softer than anything you’ve ever owned.

You move feebly, trying to wake up properly, when a twinge of pain erupts in your shoulder and bicep.

Gasping, you sit up, further aggravating your wound and panicking you further.

You're not tied up, but you could still be a prisoner. For all you know, outside this tent is an army of O'driscolls.

Fear engulfs you, and you frantically search your person for your blade.

“You're awake!”

Startled, you flinch and look up at the source of the voice.

A young woman sits across the room, a closed book in her hands. She’s pretty, and her face glows as she smiles warmly, rising and crossing the small space swiftly to sit at your side.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, looking over you but not touching, noticing your shaky breaths and wide eyed stare.

You go to speak, but your throat feels like it is coated with sand, and you wheeze out a breath. The woman grabs a tin cup and brings it to your lips, smiling reassuringly when you give her a questioning look.

“It's water, don't worry.” She takes a sip herself, proving it to be fine.

She holds it to your mouth, which you’re grateful for, as your arm burns with even the slightest movement. When the cup is drained, she puts it down, and turns back to you with her kind smile.

“I'm Mary-Beth.” She introduces herself, “What's your name?”

You shrug, “Ain't got one.”

“Oh.” Mary-Beth says sadly, “You haven't got any people, do you? You’re alone?”

“Yeah. Have been for a while.”

Mary-Beth nods understandingly, “Can I check your bandage? I think you may have pulled a stitch.”

You hesitate, but nod, deciding the woman has not given you any reason to see her as a threat. Her voice is calming, gentle like a breeze, and her eyes hold no malice.

But you’ve fallen for honeyed traps before, and there's a quill on the table beside you that you could use as a weapon if she tries anything.

As Mary-Beth begins to deftly remove your bandage, you mentally take stock of the room.

Books and papers are littered about, an unlit lantern sits on top of one of the many crates, a few bullets discarded around it. A strange object is in the centre of the room, which you stare at warily.

You’re startled when you hear voices outside the tent. They’re deep and masculine, talking too lowly to make out their words.

Mary-Beth notices, laying a comforting hand over your clenched one, “It's okay. Just Arthur and Dutch, they’re not gonna hurt you.”

You eye her sceptically, as the canvas walls shift and a man enters.

He's tall and broad, sandy hair below a weathered cowboy hat. His eyes are the colour of spring water, blue with hints of green. He's got a handsome face, that softens when he sees you.

“You’re awake.” He says.

You recognise his voice, and you realise now he is one of the men you helped in the O'driscoll camp.

“It's you.” You murmur, feeling relieved at a slightly familiar face, but confused as to why he's here. And where here is.

“Yeah, it's me.” Arthur sighs, his face stormy as his eyes shift to the bloody bandage Mary-Beth removes from your arm.

You look down at your wound, bile rising as you survey the reddened flesh surrounding a deep wound. Though it's bleeding, it's clean, and a few stitches hold the flesh together

“I'm sorry about that.” Arthur mumbles, avoiding your eyes.

You furrow your brows, “You’re sorry about what?”

“You’re hurt. And it's because you took a bullet meant for me.”

Nodding, you remember such events. An O'driscoll had sprung from the shadows, gun aimed at the man you know now as Arthur. You hadn't thought before you jumped forward, shielding him as you raised your own gun.

It was pure luck that you were only shot in the arm, and in your non-dominant one at that. You didn't even notice it at first, focused on killing the O'driscoll.

But it was agony once the man was down. You fled like a deer, no destination in mind, just needing to get Bo and get the hell out of dodge.

Your memories run out at that point.

“You got a name?” Arthur asks.

“She doesn't.” Mary-Beth explains to him, noticing your far away look.

You itch with the desire to ask questions. Who are these people? How did you get here? Where’s Bo? The last question makes you agitated, and as soon as Mary-Beth ties off your bandage you are rising out of the bed.

“Where's Bo?” You demand, rising from the bed on shaky legs. Arthur immediately grabs your uninjured arm, balancing you.

“Where's what?”

“Bo! My horse.” You sob, growing shaky with the fear that something's happened to him.

The last thing you remember is holding onto him for dear life as he gets you away from danger, falling in and out of consciousness as you grip onto his mane.

What if Bo is still out there? What if he got injured? You don't know these people, what if they hurt him?

“He's fine, he's fine, don't worry.” Arthur comforts, and you relax slightly.

“Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.” He says, voice soft in what you can assume is empathy, “Lemme bring you to him. Mary-Beth, can you grab the Miss some more morphine from Strauss?”

“Of course.” Mary-Beth says, patting your arm gently as she leaves.

“Morphine? What's that?” You ask, confused and scared. But Arthur soothes his hand over your uninjured arm, awkwardly but it's comforting nonetheless.

“Just something' to help with the pain.” He explains, “Now let's go see to yer horse.”

Arthur leads you out of the tent. You’re taken aback by the camp you’re in. It's tidy and lively, a nice atmosphere permeating from the people and nature.

A few people look over at you, and you shrink. But they’re expressions aren't unkind, some pitying but some offering smiles. A slender, dark skinned man goes as far as to offer you a good morning, which you return weakly.

Arthur stops just outside the main area of camp, releasing your arm.

“I need to talk to our cook about getting you something to eat, would you mind staying here a second while I grab him?” Arthur asks apologetically, “I wouldn't leave ya if it weren't necessary, but he's already got a bottle open and he won't be conscious next time I see him.”

You nod weakly as you lean against a tree stump, bracing your weight against it.

Arthur thanks you, walking over to a stout man taking a swig from a bottle. He grows annoyed as Arthur calls out to him, and you avert your eyes.

Across camp, you spot a few horses mingling about amongst some sparse trees.

You beam when you see a familiar stallion.

“Bo!” You call out, stumbling forwards a little to get to him.

Bo’s head snaps to the side, and he starts neighing and huffing when he sees you.

The man cleaning the horses manages to jump out of the way just in time before Bo takes off running, sprinting over to you. The camp goers watch with wide eyes as the horse that dwarfed Arthur and Charles sprints to the injured girl, before stopping and nuzzling her gently.

He noses at your injured arm, and you pat his neck affectionately. His snorts and your shushes act as nonverbal communication between you and your bonded steed, comforting each other in this strange and uncertain situation.

You rub at Bo’s nose as the man walks over from the horses. He watches in amazement, looking between you and the horse. He does not seem threatening, but you look at him in your peripheral vision, unnerved by his staring.

Noticing you eyeing him, he flushes, stammering out an apology, “Sorry. M-mighty fine horse you've got there, miss!”

“Thanks.” You smile as you look up at the horse in question, running your fingers through his mane, “Hope he hadn't been too much trouble for you, he's not used to being in one place for too long.”

“Oh he's, uh, he's been fine. He's a bit rowdy, wouldn't let me brush him or nothin, but he ain't gone nowhere or caused a ruckus. He eats hay like it's no one's business.”

“Yeah, he's a greedy boy.” You laugh.

The man joins you, though quietly. “Oh! I’m Kieran, by the way!” He introduces himself.

“Hi, Kieran.” You smile.

“They didn't tell me your name.”

“Ain't got one.”

“Oh.” Kieran frowns, but you’re surprised to see him looking sympathetic rather than confused.

You rub Bo’s neck, “But this guy is Bo. So you can call me Bo’s human, if you want.”

“Oh, that isn't a nice enough way of referring to a lady, miss. Especially not such a pretty one.” Kieran laughs, blushing slightly and clearing his throat, “And I don't think Bo would take too kindly to that. I'm already on thin ice after trying to brush him this morning.”

Bo huffs, like he was agreeing, and you chuckle.

Someone groans nearby.

“You annoying the nice lady, O’driscoll?” A voice drawls.

Kieran stiffens, his face dropping, “I told you, ain't no O'driscoll, mister.”

You narrow your eyes, looking from Kieran to the new man, who wanders over from where he was leaning against a tree. He's greasy looking, with beady eyes and a handlebar moustache.

He's one of the other men you helped, but he isn't as welcoming as Arthur.

You look back at Kieran, “O'driscoll, huh? O’driscolls took my home and tried to kill me years ago. They’re why I don't have a home.”

Kieran swallows, face dropping further, a frown appearing on his lips.

But you shrug.

“I wouldn't have thought you were one.” You say, “I've been around them long enough to know an O’driscoll from a mile away. Nothing about you seems like one to me, I ain't got a problem with you.”

Kieran visibly relaxes, smiling brightly, “Well, I'm real glad about that.”

Micah groans, agitating you both further.

“She ain't gonna fuck you, O’driscoll, so stop slobberin.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the mustached man, as Kieran goes bright red, “I ain't- I'm not- I'm just tryna be nice!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Arthur calls, appearing at your side, “I leave her alone for five minutes and you two creeps swarm her like flees to a cat.”

“Mr Morgan, I swear I was just tryna talk to her about her horse.” Kieran sighs.

“Kieran ain't done nothing.” You say to Arthur, before nudging Bo, “Bo, go with Kieran.”

Bo huffs, and you push his side. He's three times your size, but he lets you manoeuvre him in Kieran's direction. The ex-O’driscoll watches with wide eyes, before Bo nudges him with his nose, pushing him in the direction of the hay bales.

The two of them leave, leaving you, Arthur and Micah.

“So what's your excuse, Micah?” Arthur asks, crossing his arms.

“I'm just tryna be friendly to the woman who saved us.” Micah smirks, looking you up and down, “And what a woman she is.”

“Alright, enough of that.” Arthur takes your uninjured arm, leading you away from the other man, ignoring his annoyed huff.

“C’mon, Dutch’s been wanting to meet you.”

Arthur leads you through the camp, to a table where two older men sit, talking quietly amongst themselves, sipping coffee while they observe the camp around them.

They look like opposites of each other. One is dressed in dark, luxurious clothes, with raven coloured hair and a perfectly maintained moustache. His golden rings glint against the evening sun as he gestures around him. The other has silver hair, wearing lighter, more worn clothes. His eyes are dark and warm, especially when they lock on you.

He says something to his companion, and the two stand as you arrive at the table.

“Miss.” The dark haired man greets.

A steaming bowl of stew waits for you at the table, and Arthur keeps his hand on your arm as you sit. You feel awkward at all the coddling you’re receiving from everyone, feeling like a bird with a broken wing.

The three men sit as you look over the table, eying the food.

“That's yours, you can eat.” Arthur encourages, pushing the bowl closer to you.

The other men nod as you look between them. Hesitantly, you pick up the spoon and begin eating. After the first unsure spoonful, you dig in, your hunger overtaking your insecurity.

The silver haired man smiles warmly at your eagerness, while Arthur chuckles gently, “I think this is the first time someone has eaten Pearson stew so happily.”

You hear the other men laugh, but you’re too focused on eating to pay attention to it.

When the bowl is empty, you clear your throat and wipe your mouth, “Thank you.”

“Such nice manners for a wild woman.” The dark haired man comments, “You’re welcome, miss.”

Arthur takes the empty bowl away, and you fidget with your nails, blinking down at the table.

“Now, I think introductions are in order.” The dark haired man says, “My name is Dutch Van Der Linde, my friend here is Hosea Matthews.”

“We’re glad you’re up and moving, dear.” Hosea says softly, “You gave us quite a scare.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You've got nothing to apologise for, miss…”

“I don't know my name.” You shrug, growing tired of having to explain this. You haven't spoken with anyone who wanted to know your name in months. You‘re half tempted to just make one up at this point.

Arthur returns, bringing with him a shawl that he offers you. You reach for it, and he helps you place it on your shoulders.

“Is there something we can call you? Perhaps a nickname?” Hosea asks, “What is it people refer to you as?”

“‘Girl’. Or ‘woman’. ‘Freak’, ‘you there’, 'bitch’...” You list off.

“Well we won't be calling you any of those, angel.” Dutch chuckles.

“You don't need to call me nothing, mister. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as you want me to.” You murmur, wanting to shrink into the floor.

You feel uneasy at the attention. Arthur looks at you with a guarded expression, Hosea looks at you with pity, and Dutch eyes you with a look you’re unused to.

“Do you have somewhere to go? A home, a family?” Hosea asks.

“No.”

“Then why are you so eager to leave?” Dutch asks, tilting his head to try to catch your eye. You look at him, and he looks at you, focused.

Once you stare into Dutch’s eyes, you find it impossible to look away. They’re dark, filled with an intensity you had only ever seen in predators in nature.

Yet you’re unafraid of him.

The intensity seems to come from a place of intelligence, from experience. He searches your soul for evidence of malintent. He's a black bear defending his territory, not one looking for a fight.

Dutch blinks, and the spell is broken. Whatever threat he was looking for, he did not find. His eyes became warm, and a smile appears on his face, surrounding his eyes with crinkles.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Dutch says, “Afterall, you helped our people out of a very bad situation. You’ve got friends here, angel.”

Hosea nods, offering you a smile. You return it, though not entirely convinced of the group's intentions yet. Arthur watches you from the wide, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Now, those clothes of yours have seen better days.” Dutch chuckles, rising from his chair, “Let’s find you something more warm.”

He offers you his arm, leading you back through the camp towards the large tent again.

“Who's tent is this? I feel bad taking it from them.” You murmur, fingers tapping nervously against the fine material of his shirt.

“Well you shouldn't. The man who’s letting you use it likes to think of himself as generous.” Dutch winks, and you huff out a laugh.

“Thank you, Mr Van Der Linde.”

“You’re very welcome.” He leads you inside, turning to call out to an older woman, asking her to find you some new clothes. You stand awkwardly, looking around the tent again.

“What is that thing?” You ask, nodding to the strange object.

“Ah!” Dutch exclaims, a beaming smile on his lips as he walks over to the contraption, “This, my dear, is a phonograph. It plays music, listen.”

With a couple swift movements, the phonograph comes to life. Just as Dutch said, music starts playing, slightly scratchy yet clearly melodic.

It puts a small smile on your lips, and Dutch puffs out his chest in pride at your reaction. He walks back over to your side, his hand finding your wait. Opening his mouth so say something, he hesitates as he looks into your eyes.

Your heart rate picks up, tilting your head curiously at him.

Someone enters the tent, and Dutch looks away. He nods at Mary-Beth, who comes over to your side with a sunny smile and a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“I'll leave you in Miss Gaskill’s care.” Dutch murmurs, his hand lingering on your waist before he steps back, “I’ll see you later, angel.”

He leaves you confused, but Mary-Beth steals your attention away. She’s very eager to dress you up, and you smile as her kind energy lights up the room.

As the sun begins to set, the camp settles down with food and beers, chatting around the campfire or retiring for the night.

You have washed and changed your clothes. Mary-Beth styled an old skirt and blouse for you. The skirt was a bit short and the blouse was too large, but you were grateful to be in something other than your raggedy dress you'd been wearing for just under a week.

Another girl named Tilly brought you water to wash, and helped you clean the dirt off of your skin and out of your hair. She talked to you the whole time, complaining about a woman named Miss Grimshaw. While you didn't respond, she was content with your hums of acknowledgment, and it was nice getting clean and being treated like a normal person.

Once clean and warm in your new, borrowed clothes, you felt ten pounds lighter, and followed the women as they led you to the campfire. A few others mingle about, but you sigh in relief seeing that there were far fewer about now that the sun had set.

You slightly wish you could be left alone to lick your wounds, disappearing back into the woods with Bo at your side.

Not that these people aren't nice. In fact, they happen to be the kindest people you have interacted with in months. You’re just unused to being surrounded by so many people, especially by people who actually see you. You've spent your days wandering the world like a spectre, far more comfortable in the presence of animals than people.

Maybe you could get used to being around other people. But you wanted the option to leave, in case the other shoe drops and these people turn out to be just another cruel gang of outlaws.

Mary-Beth sits you at the fire, leaving you to grab you both some supper. Nearby, a man sits in the ground with a guitar in his lap, his eyes closed as he strums a simple tune.

The soft notes he plays transfix you, and you find yourself hypnotised by the music, the world falling away around you. The man looks at you, a smile on his lips at the sight of you enjoying his music. For a moment, you’re completely entranced.

New voices startle you, and you look up to find an older man with a bushy beard settling down around the fire.

“Evening, miss.” He says.

“Hello.” You greet in return.

“Glad to see you're alright. Old Dutch was mighty concerned about ya.” He rambles, opening a beer and nodding at you with a grin, “The name’s Uncle by the way.”

“Uncle?”

“Yup. At least, that's what everyone knows me as. I reckon we're alike, you and me, both got names that are no-one's business.”

You don't bother correcting him that you don't know your name, or asking you how he knew you didn't know your name, so instead you smile and nod.

Mary-Beth returns alongside a blonde woman, who raises an eyebrow at Uncle’s statement, “You ain't even got a name?” She comments as she takes a swig from her beer.

“Karen, be nice.” Mary-Beth chides as she sits beside you, handing you a bowl of familiar stew, “She doesn't remember it, poor thing.”

“What are we supposed to call you, then?” Karen inquires.

You shrug, “Whatever you like. People call me whatever they want, don't matter much to me. Dutch seems to like calling me angel, for some reason.”

Karen's eyes widen at that, as the guitarist hums contemplatively, “Mm, you are an angel. A guardian angel, saving the men like that. Muy valiente, cariño.”

Though his words are lost on you, they sound as melodic as the music he plays, and you nod in thanks, tapping your fingers on the rim of the bowl in your hands.

“How long are you planning on staying with us?” Uncle asks.

“I don't know, as long as it takes for my arm to heal, I guess.”

“Dutch seems real keen on keeping ya.” Karen says around her bottle, before promptly being elbowed by Mary-Beth.

“Well it's not every day an outlaw gets to save a damsel in distress.” Uncle chuckles.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“He was the one who found you in the woods.” Uncle explains, “You were in a real bad state, saw it myself. Dutch came in like one of those fancy knights from Mary-Beth’s books, carrying you through camp all bloodied. I was real surprised he was willing to get blood on his fancy clothes.”

You stare at him, surprised to find out it was Dutch who rescued you. He hadn't mentioned it, which you thought he would, being the proud and enigmatic man he was. Surely he would boast about it,

Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to find Dutch watching you from afar. He’s sat beside Hosea, who talks to him not residing his friends attention is elsewhere.

Dutch has that look in his eyes again. Dark and pensive, and though you feel you should be fearful, different emotions plague your system. Pleasant emotions, your heart rate increasing and your stomach fluttering.

But he turns away as Hosea asks him a question, and the spell is broken.

You excuse yourself from the conversation, taking your bowl to Pearson before heading back to Dutch’s tent. Sleep should help quell the sudden desires you feel.

But sleep does not come easily.

You can see Dutch’s eyes in your imagination, watching from the dark corners of dormant spaces. Thoughts spiral around your mind,

Huffing, you run your hands over your face, your bandage tightening before snapping. You sigh further as you sit up, looking down at the loose wrappings.

You try to retie your bandage, your frustration building when it unravels again. So much for being independent.

Someone clears their throat, and you turn your head to see Dutch standing at the entrance, offering you a smile as he gestures to your attempts, “Would you like some help?”

You hesitate, but nod.

He moves to sit beside you on the bed, looking over your work before turning you around, your back to him as he expertly winds the bandage around your upper arm, tying it at the back and tucking the edge away.

“There you go.” Dutch murmurs.

Why is his voice so entrancing?

His close proximity makes goosebumps erupt along your exposed flesh. But it's not unpleasant. In fact, you seek out his warmth, leaning against him as he works. You briefly worry that he can feel your racing heart through your ribs.

Dutch smooths his hands over your arm, ensuring the bandage is secure. His touch sends shivers through you, bolts of lightning with every brush of his warm, calloused skin against yours.

You lean into it, humming appreciatively.

Dutch hums too, his fingers travelling from your upper arm to your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse point. He watches your profile, looking for any sign of discomfort.

Finding none, he brings your wrist upwards, pressing his lips to your skin. You gasp, unsure but intrigued by his action, melting against his front.

“My apologies if this is forward…” Dutch murmurs, though there's no real apology in his tone, “I've been finding myself thinking of you far too often since finding you in the woods. My strange treasure.”

He presses a kiss to your palm, “It's not every day a beauty like yours falls into my lap, please forgive my desire to indulge.”

You look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip as you look over his face. His eyes move from your hand to your eyes, his gaze appraising like he was looking at something magnificent.

“Such a pretty thing.” Dutch drawls, his other hand circling around your waist, making you jolt, “Hmm… you ain't done nothing like this before, have you, angel?”

“No…” You whisper.

You vaguely understood this attention, even though you have never experienced something like this before. In your years in the wild, you had stumbled upon enough passionate lovers in isolated fields, and found the odd O’driscoll having his way with a working girl. You had seen enough to not be completely clueless.

But you'd never been touched.

Even in your wildest dreams did you imagine the first man to do so, and to do so so reverently, would be a powerful gang leader. What had you gotten yourself into.

Dutch hums at your revelation, softening his movements, caressing your arms and waist in slow movements.

“Would you like me to make you feel good?” He asks, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, “Show how much I appreciate your selfless act of saving my men from certain death?”

“I feel like I should be the one showing gratitude.” You mutter, “You saved my life.”

Dutch hums, kissing the skin below your ear, “We can find ways to thank one another.”

Deftly, his fingers begin travelling along your body, caressing your bare and clothed skin. You squirm against him, unsure if you are trying to escape his attention or encourage him.

A gasp escapes you as you feel one of his large hands slip below your skirt, the cold of his rings cooling the heated flesh of your thighs. and you keen as they come in contact with your most intimate place.

His rough fingers drag through your slit, and you hold your breath for fear of making a noise that will surely wake the entire camp. Dutch groans, pressing his face against your hair as he feels how wet you've become.

His fingers move upwards until they find your clit, a small bundle of heaven you had only explored by yourself in moments of desperation. He plays with it expertly, skilled fingertips circling and rubbing at it until you feel yourself shaking.

You turn your head to look at him, seeking out comfort in his dark eyes. He hushes you, pressing his lips to yours.

It's clumsy on your end. You've never been kissed, and your lips are hesitant against his confident ones. Dutch brings a hand up, cupping your jaw as he urges you on with his lips. You begin to move your own, moaning against him as his tongue requests

You really like kissing, you soon discover, finding yourself quickly becoming addicted. You turn in his arms, pressing yourself against him as you indulge in his lips.

The two of you manoeuvre yourselves until you sit on Dutch's lap, thighs bracketing his own as your hands wind into his hair, holding his head still to have your fill of his kisses.

Dutch groans against you, enjoying the feeling of you taking control, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

He sinks back into the cot, body relaxing as he surrenders to your exploration.

You’re uncomfortably wet, the early caress of his fingers combined with your kissing making you drench his waist below you. Squirming against him, you gasp when you feel something hard below you.

Separating from his lips, you take in the sight of the powerful man below you.

Dutch reclines against the cot, looking up at you with hungry eyes.

His hands move from your lower back to your hips, then upwards. His deft fingers play with the ties of your shirt, and he looks up at you with a raise eyebrow, “May I?”

“Yes.” You say confidently, though unsure as to what he wants.

Dutch unties the knots that keep your shirt closed. It's far too big for you, and when loose, it drops and exposes your breasts to the air.

Your hands twitch against his chest, fighting the urge to cover your skin from his eyes. Dutch groans, pupils dilating as he admires the slopes of your breasts and raised nipples.

His hands travel gently over the soft skin of your breasts, to the skirt bunched up at your waist, to the meat of your thighs, groping and caressing greedily.

Your own fingers move to the buttons of his vest, and he grins up at you, eager. Opening his vest and shirt, you eye him with flushing cheeks. His torso is firm from years of gunslinging and lawless labour, skin slightly tan from the summer sun. Taut muscles and dark thatches of hair you desire to run your fingers through.

He urges you to do so, taking your smaller hands in his to place them on his sides, Copying his own actions, you run your own hands over his exposed chest, exploring the firm skin and the dark wiry hair. Your fingers follow the hair's natural line as it travels down until it disappears into his slacks.

A bulge has formed there, pressing against the fabric aggressively. You know from the horrid O'driscolls and the drunken farmers you often stole from that this meant that he was aroused, but what lay below is a mystery to you.

“Are you alright, angel?”

You look up and meet Dutch’s eyes, finding them soft yet still hungry.

“I’ve never…”

“That's alright, darling. Take your time.” He soothes, caressing your sides, “But, we also don't have to go any further than this. You hold the cards here, my beautiful girl.”

You smile a little bit, feeling some of the tension in your body dissipate.

And you shock him when you cup his solid bulge.

Dutch groans and his hips buck, surprised by your action and quick to apologise for his initial reaction. You bite your lip, rubbing your palm over it. The action makes Dutch sigh softly, his fingers clenching against your waist as he looks down at your fingers.

You play with the edge of his trousers, “Can I…?”

“Of course.”

Slowly, you undo his pants, revealing his lack of underwear. You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles.

“It's real warm this time of year.” Dutch explains, “Makes this easier, too.”

“Were you planning this?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I only hoped… I'm only human, sweet thing.”

You blush, moving your eyes back to his lower half. Tugging his slacks down, his uncovered erection springs free. Your eyes widen, taking in the solid length of it.

It’s as long as your hand, and reasonably wide. Having nothing to reference to it, you find it quite nice. Whether it's bigger than average you can only guess, but it’s certainly not disappointing to your virgin eyes.

“Do I please you, my lady?” Dutch smirks, his hands moving back down to your bare thighs, pinching you as you stare for too long.

You huff, leaning forward to kiss him again, far too obsessed with doing it. He doesn't complain, sighing happily against your lips and wrapping his large hand in your hair.

As you lean over him, you can feel him poke against your stomach. Sitting up a bit, you look down at it, shuffling forward until it presses against your clothed stomach.

Seeing how much of it could go inside you, your eyes widen.

“That thing’s never gonna fit in me.”

Dutch laughs, shaking his head slightly, running his hand over your cheek, “Don't worry, angel. It will. But we’re not gonna force it. I'm gonna make sure you feel good.”

You hum, leaning into his palm. He soothes your flushed skin, tracing his fingers over the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw. You adjust yourself on top of him, trying to figure out how best to do this.

Dutch notices your fumbling, “Need help?”

You smile, nodding.

“Show me.”

He obliges, moving his hands to your hips firmly and lifting you up. You follow his guidance, moving forward to hover over his lap.

A gasp escaped you when you feel his tip against you. It's hot, incredibly hard and slightly damp. Dutch moves you gently, rocking you over it. When it catches your clit, you shudder, keening and moving automatically as you search out more of that delicious feeling.

“Such a good girl.” Dutch breathes, “That’s it sweetheart, take it easy. We ain’t in no rush.”

You rock against him, letting the rip catch your entrance. You squirm as you feel the first two inches slide in and out of you, easily due to how you’re practically dripping.

The sensations are unusual, but far from unpleasant.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you sink further, stifling a moan as more pleasure emerges the longer you girate.

Soon enough, you’re taking enough of him to feel him pressing against something sensitive inside you. It shocks you at first, but then you begin searching for it, releasing sharp moans every time you drop and feel the ecstasy rise, your whole body riding waves of pleasure.

You can hear Dutch's breath quickening, and you open your eyes. You didn't even realise you shut them, but when you blink away the bleariness and look down at Mr Van Der Linde, you moan at the sight of him.

Dutch’s skin glistens in the low light, his chest and neck flushed. His chest heaves as he groans and grunts, releasing praises with every breath. “So tight.” “Keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.” “Good fucking girl.” His head is thrown back, neck exposed and eyes fluttering closed.

You keep rocking, trying to keep pace while you lean forward and kiss his throat.

Dutch groans loudly at that, his arms wrap around you to keep you in place. His hips buck, his restraint fraying. His need for release is growing too strong for him to handle.

“I need fuck you now, baby, would you let me?” He bites out.

You murmur out an ‘mhm’ into his neck, head too gone to really respond, but knowing that you want him to have his way with you now.

At your affirmation, Dutch grips you to his chest, feet planting on the bed as he begins thrusting upwards. You release a series of moans and whines as he fucks up into you, hips slapping against yours.

He’s strong, fucking with short and hard thrusts that shake you. You grasp onto him for dear life, surrendering fully to the feeling.

Your body tightens, a feeling deep in your abdomen grows, like a string pulled too taut and ready to snap.

“D-dutch, feels weird…” You gasp out, burying your face in his neck.

“That's it, cum for me, angel. Give it to me.” Dutch commands, huffing into your ear as he grips onto your hips and slams you down on him as he thrusts up even harder than before. He tip of him repeatedly bullies the sweet spot inside of you, and you see stars.

The string snaps inside you, and you're blinded by pleasure. You cum with a cry of his name, tears swimming in your vision as you shake and leak all over him.

Dutch’s pace stutters, murmuring continuous “fuck, fuck, fuck”s into your ear.

Swiftly, he turns you over, lying you both on your sides as he pulls out. He fists himself fast in between your bodies, exclaiming as he jolts and warm spurts of his release hit your stomach.

“Fuck, so good…” Dutch sighs, nosing at your face as he pumps himself lazily, staining both of you with every drop of his seed.

You breathe heavily, coming down from the high. You lie boneless beside him, his eyes half closed as he watches your face with parted lips.

Sleep creeps up on you, and you almost get pulled under until you hear Dutch shift. His presence leaves the bed and you wonder if he's leaving you all alone.

But he returns after a second, a cool rag caressing your belly and cleaning you of his spend, before cleaning over your sensitive cunt. You shiver and he chuckles, wiping the rag over your sweaty skin before putting it away.

He wraps his arms around you, moving you to lie on his chest.

Sighing contentedly, you relax against his solid warmth, and fall into the most peaceful sleep of your life.

As the morning birds wake you, you stretch out on the soft bed.

You search blindly for Dutch, eyebrows furrowing when you come up empty handed.

Opening your eyes, you look around the room. It's unchanged. You don't know what you expected, but you thought the world would be different after the new sensations you experienced last night.

But alas, the world is still the same.

Standing, you fix your clothes, smiling when you see that Dutch buttoned your shirt to protect your modesty and put your socks back on your feet to keep you warm. For a man who seemed so strong, capable of immeasurable violence, he seemed insistent on treating you with the kindness you had never dreamed of receiving.

Dutch's phonograph plays gentle music, and you can see his silhouette, standing outside the canvas door. You exit, finding him smoking a cigar as he watches over camp. He's less put together than you were used to seeing him, and your chest flutters knowing you're the cause of that.

Coming to his side, you awkwardly hover next to him, wondering what you do now. Do you greet him casually? Do you take his hand in yours?

Noticing you beside him, Dutch smiles, answering your unspoken questions by swiftly taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Some of the others look over, curious but not a bit shocked.

Smiling, hold onto his hand, leaning into him as the two of you watch over camp.

Maybe you will stick around, just for a little while.

AN/ need that crazy moustache man ugh. hope you enjoyed this! also thank u for 100 followers that's crazy xoxo

fic taglist: @warmsideofthepillow03 @sammymcsamerson @m1stea @iamaunknownsecret @love-you-louise @vanpan8 @6esi @idcmannn

[concretejunglefm]

i desperately need something with bsf!folio 😭

Hi anon 👋 I hope you don't mind that I'm combining this with another ask for hooking up with bsf!folio on the tour bus and the guys + matt walks in 🫣

CW: smut including penetration, slight nipple play, intoxication, use of marijuana.

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Folio says, blowing smoke between his lips.

Considering the consequences of the last time one of you uttered those words while smoking together, you’re already bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Don’t even think about it,” you warn, leaning in closer to take a drag from the blunt he’s holding out for you.

“To have sex on a tour bus.” He grins, a quiet, almost inaudible chuckle escaping his lips as he glances across at you.

You immediately slap him on the chest and roll your eyes. “Oh, please! As if you’ve never hooked up with someone on here before.”

“I haven’t,” he protests, and his tone almost makes you believe him.

“Are you serious? Not even one of your groupies?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What groupies? I don’t see any. If you do, please feel free to send them my way.” He leans back in the small seating area’s sofa portion, exuding a nonchalant air. When your eyes drop to his lap, it seems inviting.

You silently scold yourself for allowing that thought to resurface in your mind, especially when you’re with your best friend, the one you had a one-time hookup with. That’s what you had told each other, after all; it was just a one-time thing, and it would never happen again. But you can’t help yourself from crawling onto his lap, his one arm instantly enveloping you, and curling around your waist as if he had been expecting you to do it.

“Finally,” he whispers as you lean in, your lips brushing against his. To your surprise, he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he huffs out smoke from the drag he’s just taken, feeding it into your mouth. It’s more intoxicating than any solo drag you’ve taken tonight.

It’s you who takes the first step, feeling the irresistible magnetic pull towards him. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, a muffled sound slipping into it as your bodies instinctively melt.

You soon feel the heat of his hands on you, the way they roughly and firmly grip your waist as they glide down and over your hips, pulling you closer. You start grinding yourself against him, feeling the bulge beneath you. It makes you whine, already craving more.

Somehow, you manage to pull down your shorts together, leaving you in just your shirt and underwear. Meanwhile, Folio undoes his pants enough to reach in and free his cock, teasing you through the fabric of your panties as you buck your hips against him.

You can’t stand the teasing, not when you’re with him and feeling yourself being pulled higher from the joint you shared, making you hornier than ever. You don’t have to wait for long though, not when he slips aside your underwear and teases his tip against you, feeling how wet you’ve become just from this alone. It shouldn’t surprise you, not after the first time you hooked up with Folio, when you discovered that your body reacted to him in a way you’d never experienced with anyone else before.

As you feel his teasing against your entrance, you wrap an arm around his shoulders, your fingers entwining in the back of his hair. With a pull, you draw him into another intense kiss, allowing the moan that escapes your lips to find its way into his mouth. In return, he reciprocates with a moan of his own as you gently push down. The feeling of him inside you has your walls tighten around him, yearning and craving to feel him deeper. It’s an experience that feels more profound than you recall your previous time being, leaving you feeling even more light-headed than your high.

“Folio…” you whisper, your lips parting from the kiss. Suddenly, you hear him utter a single word against your lips—a deep, needy moan—in a voice that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck.” The sensation of his cock inside you intensifies with his throbbing and twitching, and as his hands glide back onto your hips, he gently squeezes them, holding you still as he takes in the feeling of you around him.

Between the intense pleasure you already feel blooming within you and the high you’re currently experiencing, time seems to melt away, and you’re uncertain about how long you spend there, simply embracing the feeling of one another. However, with a gentle rocking of your hips, you begin to move, experimenting with the rhythm before Folio gently guides you.

Instantly, your stomach becomes swirling with heat, the familiar knot forming as the pleasure builds slowly. But this time, it’s different. It leaves you yearning to prolong the experience, to savor the full variety of pleasure, especially while in this heightened state.

Dropping your head back, you let out soft, low moans as you slowly ride Folio, his hands pushing beneath your shirt, exploring your stomach and chest. When they meet at your breasts, he cups them and teases your nipples between his thumb and forefingers, twisting and pinching them to elicit more sounds.

You feel the fabric of your shirt brushing against your skin as he pushes it up further, only to be followed by the warm, wet sensation of his mouth and tongue against your hardened, sensitive nipples. Your walls tighten around him in response as a quiver ripples through your body and with your fingers still buried in his hair, you begin to tug harshly on it, hearing the soft moan it elicits from him before you feel the sharp scrape of his teeth, a warning nip. You pull harder, resulting in him biting down around your nipple and sucking harshly, earning him a whining moan from you.

You’re so far into the euphoria of your pleasure and the high that you fail to hear the lock clicking on the door, the shuffling of feet on the few steps, or the accompanying crowd of voices.

“Folio, what the hell, man?” Matt’s voice shatters the lavender haze, jolting you back to reality. As you glance over your shoulder to find the others and Matt standing there, all color drains from your face.

“Oh, hey guys! I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Folio’s casual demeanor does nothing to alleviate the wave of embarrassment currently threatening to consume you.

As you pull yourself away from Folio, trying to pull your top down and maintain some of your modesty, Folio whimpers, reaching out to your hips to help you with your balance and entice you back to him. “Come on, baby, we haven’t finished yet.” His accent, already distinctive with its southern twang, intensifies as he elongates the word ‘baby’. However, you resist the temptation and pull yourself away, letting out a huff before grabbing your discarded shorts from the floor.

“I’m not fucking you in front of your friends, Folio!” You retort as you retreat to the back of the bus to hide your embarrassment and perhaps finish what Folio never did, while he remains completely unperturbed, his chuckle echoing throughout the bus.

[puppysuke]

daisuke boyfriend hc + drabbles.

hi my first head canon post :3 i am so hyperfixated on daisuke and mouthwashing itself. please someone save me. continue reading below cut! these are both sfw and nsfw, minors dni past the sfw hcs! header made by me :3

🌺 --- daisuke 100% will yap your ear off ALL day. he will not shut his mouth. not that you want him too, anyway. you love listening to him rant and ramble to no end. ~ "swansea was so mean today!" he tells you as he nuzzles into your neck, cuddling contently on the couch of the lounge room after a long day of working with swansea.

you let out a little giggle and ruffle his hair. "i'm sorry, bug," you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

"yeah, and then curly wouldn't give me a break, i don't even know what he was talking about. i wasn't paying attention, honestly..." daisuke admits sheepishly. you sigh softly and stay quiet, letting him ramble until he eventually passes out with his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder. 🌺 --- daisuke daydreams a lot about going home and starting something more with you. after so long in space, going back to earth sounded like heaven, and then in top of that, knowing you'd be with him! he loves it! ~ daisuke had been zoned out all day, a small smile on his face as he seems miles and miles away from reality. by the time swansea delivers him back to you, he's oddly....quiet. "'suke?" you frown as you sit on your bed in the sleeping quarters. you and anya share a room since you were the only girls (sorry guys </3) on the ship, but she was currently in medical, so it was just you and daisuke alone. "are you okay?" you question. he turns to you with a big, toothy grin on his pretty face. "do you think we should get a puppy or a kitten when we're back on earth?" daisuke looked at you with big, happy eyes. he didn't even give you a chance to respond before his next question comes in. "what about our house? maybe we should just start with an apartment? do you wanna be in the city or more in the country? what about decorations? oh! and i can't wait til i can introduce you to my mom! oh, she'll love you! maybe a little more than she loves me, i-" "hey, hey," you interrupt with a chuckle, your hand flying over his lips. "calm down. is this why swansea sent you back to me?" daisuke licked your palm, laughing hard when you pulled your hand away. he was so happy with you. 🌺 --- daisuke wants nothing more than to make you laugh and smile. he will do anything to make you feel better when you're in a bad mood. ~ daisuke looked at you with a frown as you walked down the hall beside him. you seemed to be upset. he had seen you upset before, but this seemed different. you were stressed. being anya's intern, you had a lot of learning to do and today? it felt like you were doing everything wrong. as you went back to your sleeping quarters, daisuke took hold of your hand, linking your pinkie finger in his as he slowed the pace you two were walking at to a stop. "bumble bee," he starts with a pout, turning himself to face you. "are you okay? i mean, i know you're upset, but..." he trailed off for a moment. "tell me what'll make you feel better." "hmm..." you thought a moment, looking down at the ground. you knew there were a few things that could help you feel better, more like yourself. finally, you decided. "can you and i sleep in the lounge tonight and you can sing to me and tell me stories?" a smile graced daisuke's lips. he didn't much like singing, especially to other people, but for you? "of course. anything, for you," he leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. minors dni past this point. bonus nsfw hc. 🌺 --- daisuke is a soft dom. everyone writes him as a sub, but i do not see this man as a sub. he is 1000% a soft dom and very heavy on praise both giving and receiving. ~ daisuke let out soft pants as he had you under him. he held your hands above your head in one of yours, the other hand cupping your cheeks. you were face to face, inches apart. his favorite position was missionary and you had no complaints, getting to look into those pretty eyes of him. "doing so good for me, sweetheart," daisuke says in a soft and gentle voice as he kissed your forehead with a gentleness that wasn't even describable. "feeling good, hm? am i making you feel good?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your cheek in soft strokes.

you nod, looking up into his eyes as your mouth hangs open. you gasp and turn your head to the side, leaning into his touch. "m-mhm, feels good, feels perfect. love you so much." you whine out in a breathy voice. daisuke lets out a soft laugh and kissed your temple.

"i love you too, sweets." 🌺 --- he is super vocal in bed. whines, whimpers, grunts, babbling, you name it. much like how he never stops talking, he never stops making noises in bed. ~ daisuke has his head in between your legs, his hands gripping the flesh of your thighs tightly to keep them spread enough. you're lying with you back of the bed and your legs hanging off the edge so he can have you there. despite him giving you head, he's the one that's louder. he whines as he sucks on your clit, he gasps when he prods at your entrance with his tongue, the cold metal of his tongue piercing making you whine too, wiggling your hips.

much to your dismay, daisuke pulls away. you sit up and look at him, confused. he looked up into your eyes and pouts, his chin and lips, even the tip of your nose, glistening in the dim led lights of the room.

"you're so fuckin' sweet!" he puts his chin on your knee, resting his head there for a minute. "it was like...perfect!" you knew he had to have been lying. all you had eaten was whatever the fuck curly those machines in the lounge made and cans of soup, you were in no way having a healthy, balanced diet, but you still appreciated the sentiment.

[scatorcciosrhee]

hey so we didn’t even get to the dethroning/beating and it still feels like someone ripped my entire heart out of my chest and danced on it. her getting yelled at?? berated??? for what?? she is so gentle and so for doing the right thing and again these people pushed leadership onto her shoulders only to completely turn on her. she’s CRYING. nat is so good at putting on a hard front especially when it comes to the constant disrespect she faces, yet she was sat up there gripping her arm choking back tears. she’s alone. she’s isolated. she’s scared. GOD i hate the way they (ESPECIALLY shauna and tai) treat her. idk how im gonna survive the next episode. I just want her to be happy and safe and loved and knowing she truly NEVER gets that….ohhhhh.

isn’t it sooo interesting that when things got too hard they all pushed leadership onto nats shoulders, and she kept them alive, got them through winter, had to endure all of the hardships that no one else wanted to because she was WILLING TO for the people she cares about (even when they had just crashed she provided their food etc.) only now that it’s spring and “easier” to survive, they’re all treating her like shit, are going to side against her and beat the shit out of her when she didn’t even WANT the leadership role. they FORCED IT upon her because she was the only one strong enough to carry that weight. absolutely insane if you ask me.

aaaanyways, team nat we ride at dawn!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

So while I’m on my “You’re Losing Me” riff, another thing that really strikes me about the song is how pervasive loneliness is in it.

This isn’t inherently unique in Taylor’s music; she is after all the narrator in most of her songs. They are inherently self-centered and not in a selfish way, but in a literal way: these are songs about her and her perspective. It makes sense then that YLM is uniquely about her experience in this relationship and this breakdown.

But when I talk about the theme of loneliness, it’s how alone she as narrator is throughout the story. Even in the opening salvo, where he says, “I don’t understand,” and she says, “I know you don’t,” the conversation represents two people fundamentally pushed to their own corners.

There is a clear split between we and I throughout the story.

We thought a cure would come through, now I fear it won’t. We loved this room cause of the light, but now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time. Should I throw out everything we built?

There’s a divide between when they were on the same team, and when she’s been cast adrift. They were working on fixing their problems, but now she alone is burdened with the knowledge that they’ve passed the point of no return. They chose a home to house their future dreams together, but now she’s left all alone in the dark feeling those dreams slip away. They built a life, but now she’s the one having the make the call to take it down.

But it gets progressively darker than that. The line about being a phoenix mending all her own gashes has always jumped out at me, because it connotes her dealing with blow after blow by herself, having to put herself back together each time, the onslaught relentless even if she ultimately overcomes. Yet it’s him who tears her apart for good. The image it paints is of a person continually facing her own struggles on her own, dealing with the fallout like a lone wolf (sorry for the continued animal allusions?), but whatever it is that the subject he does breaks her worse than the thousand cuts she’s experienced before. Even here, the idea is of a person who shoulders her burdens by herself and being praised for it (something something when I used to fight you’d tell me I was brave etc. Even though I know that’s an entirely different situation but it’s also not) or at least being expected to do it, but the subject’s actions — or lack thereof— cut deeper than any of those lonesome fights. She keeps fighting for herself, trying to grow from the hurt, but his “blow” threatens to undo it all in one fell swoop.

Of course, as the song continues, the story expands and becomes one about miscommunication and apathy. I’m not one to believe that every single line in Taylor’s songs is literal; she’s a master at metaphors and scene setup, so as much as some commentary interprets the line about glaring and sending signals as literal and therefore putting the onus on her for not communicating effectively and expecting the person to be a mind reader, I feel like this is where her affinity for being flowery paints a far sadder picture.

She glared at him with storms in her eyes could mean she’s acting pissed but not saying why, but it could just as easily be a metaphor for sharing anger/upset with your partner who refuses to acknowledge its weight. (How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dyin’ when it’s right in front of you?) I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick could be seen as again not saying what’s wrong and expecting him to pick up on her behaviour, but I also feel it’s an instance where her penchant for emotive language is at play: it’s not that she expected him to read her mind, it’s that she tried every way she could and he still didn’t care. The signals could be that like a lighthouse in a storm: clear and guiding, but dangerous if ignored. She told him in all the ways she could, literal, emotional and physical, that she was wasting away, but he wouldn’t take it seriously. It once again details the experience of a person living through this tragedy completely on her own, whose pain is dismissed at every turn.

Which brings us to, “My face was gray but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick.” It could mean, she was making herself ill and he ignored the reasons why, but as I mentioned in my post earlier, death hangs over the entire song. (There’s a larger essay to be written about that theme alone.) To me, it’s not just that she’s grey because she’s ill, her face is grey because she’s (metaphorically) dead. She’s already died (or the relationship is dead) before he’s even admitted there was anything wrong to fix. She alone is sitting with this realization.

As the song continues, the loneliness with the burden of this knowledge shifts to the loneliness of everything she feels she’s done or felt that’s been ignored or dismissed.

My pain is an imposition. (On you.) I gave you all my best me’s. (And I didn’t get yours in return.) I bled and tried to be the bravest soldier only in your army frontlines. (But you didn’t fight in mine when I needed you.) I’m the best thing at this party. (But you’d never acknowledge I exist.)

By the time she gets to the end of the bridge, she’s fading fast but even as she’s losing the battle, she’s still imploring him to fight for her and them in a last-ditch effort. Show me you’re still with me. But she never gets that answer, because ultimately they’ve lost the pulse, and her heart has stopped. While the song begins with them fundamentally misunderstanding each other, it ends with her confirming her fears in the opening: there is no more we, but there is no more her either. She’s gone, all alone, without anyone there to see it.

In spite of the fact that the song is super catchy and uptempo, with a characteristic banger bridge that is fueled by anger and seeping with resentment, “You’re Losing Me,” is incredibly sad and kind of morose. It leaves such an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, which I imagine is only a fraction of the feeling of the person experiencing the story is.

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[missdynamighttt]

hehehe sooo.. pro hero, husband! katsuki not being able to spend time with you took a toll on his agency, so someone said... you two needed to bone.

it had been weeks since katsuki had a proper night at home. pro hero work never let up but lately, it felt like it was eating him—late nights at the agency, barely any sleep, reports, patrols, meetings.

you understood. it was his job, his responsibility, but his stress showed in the way he snapped at people more often, his fuse shorter than usual.

and today? he was especially pissed.

the whole office refused to confront dynamight about it, until some dumbass sidekick, probably sick of his rage-fueled outbursts, muttered under his breath, “tch. man just needs to go home and bone his wife.”

the room went silent.

dead silent.

katsuki stopped mid-step, shoulders going rigid. his head turned slowly toward him, eyes burning like he was about to set the entire building on fire.

"the fuck did you just say?"

the sidekick, to his credit, had the audacity to look innocent. "i mean, you’re obviously tense, and i'm sure she’s—"

he lunged at him. it took three other sidekicks to hold him back as he damn near flipped his desk over.

“YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD! BONE?!” katsuki roared, struggling against his coworkers like a wild animal. "say that shit again, i dare you! you think i’m pissed ‘cause i ain’t fucking my wife enough?!”

the whole agency floor collectively held its breath.

the poor sidekick scrambled for an excuse. “n-no! i-i just meant—uh, stress relief! yeah! y’know, intimacy is good for—”

katsuki grabbed a random clipboard and hurled it across him. he missed by a centimeter. “you think i don’t wanna fuckin' go home to her?! huh?!”

“sir—”

“i wanna go home so bad! i wanna see her, i wanna kiss her, i wanna lay on her tits and sleep for the whole fuckin’ day,” he ranted, voice cracking from pure frustration. “BUT NOOO! i’m stuck here writing reports and dealing with dumbasses like you!”

the office was dead silent.

it took a solid ten minutes for him to cool down, grumbling and seething as he rubbed his temples.

but his mind did wander.

to you. to the way he missed your voice. to how fucking long it had been since he held you properly.

to the way he always found you asleep by the time he got home, curled up on his side of the bed, waiting for him.

… fuck. maybe the sidekick did have a point.

katsuki inhaled sharply. then, with wild determination, he grabbed his his stuff, and stormed toward the exit. the agency could handle itself for the night. he had better things to do.

“fuck this. i'm goin' home to my wife."

meanwhile, you had barely settled on the couch, ready to enjoy a quiet evening alone, when the front door slammed open. you jolted, turning toward the entrance just in time to see katsuki storming in—looking like a man on a mission.

“katsu—” you barely got his name out before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and urgent, like he’d been starving for this. you gripped his shirt as he pulled you impossibly close, practically lifting you off the floor.

you gasped against his lips as his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, pressing his body against yours.

strong hands cupped your face, rough but desperate. his lips were everywhere—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw, the corner of your lips—like he was making up for lost time.

and when he finally let you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, panting slightly, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you were breathless, blinking up at him in shock. “what the hell?”

katsuki exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours. “i missed you.”

your brows furrowed. “you left for work this morning.”

“exactly,” his lips brushed against yours again, softer this time. “should’ve come home sooner.”

it was then you realized—he was home way earlier than usual. normally, he'd get caught up in work, buried in reports or dealing with patrols, but tonight…

“wait, why are you home so early?” you asked, still dazed.

katsuki huffed. his fingers slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly. “tch. dumbass sidekick at work said i just needed to fuck my wife to fix my attitude.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

his lips brushed yours again, softer this time. “so i left early to prove ‘em right.”

your face burned. “katsuki!”

but he was already leaning in again, smirking against your lips. “better get comfortable, sweets. i’m makin’ up for lost time.”

and when katsuki stepped into the office that morning, something was… off.

for the first time in weeks, he didn’t stomp in with a permanent scowl, barking at everyone the second he crossed the threshold. his usual sharp glare was dulled, his shoulders weren’t tense as tense.

instead, katsuki looked, dare they say it—relaxed. his jaw wasn’t clenched, his brows weren’t furrowed, and the usual aggressive boom of his steps was noticeably tamer.

hell, the man even had a post-nut glow so obvious. skin clear, posture loose, and zero unnecessary shouting.

no explosions. no immediate death threats. no one getting yelled at for breathing too loud.

everyone noticed.

by the time he made it to his desk, his coworkers were already exchanging looks, whispering amongst themselves like they’d just seen a miracle.

"uh…" one of his sidekicks was the first to cautiously approach. “sir. you good?”

katsuki just grunted, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck. “feelin’ great, actually.”

and that’s when it clicked. a murmur spread through the office as realization slammed into them.

“you boned last night,” he stated, like it was the discovery of the century.

katsuki just smirked, grabbing some files off his desk. “what’s it to ya?”

the room erupted.

“holy shit, i forgot he could be normal—”

“i haven’t known peace in months.”

“oh my god, mrs bakugo katsuki, if you can hear this—thank you for your service!”

someone started clapping.

then, the entire office cheered.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i think y'all know where this is inspired from but js in case, its from a sitcom named brooklyn 99 where this girl tells her boss he needs to bone his husband lmao😭 hope yall enjoyed!!

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Buckys innocent neighbor who bakes him cookies and muffins just cause. The girl next door who has the coziest apartment he's ever been in. Shelves filled with books along with plenty of comfy blankets decorating the couches. Bucky has his own place right across but home is with her (even if she doesn't know it yet).

She's the type of girl he's going to take his time with, asking her out on a date, just coffee and a walk in the park. Nothing more than a kiss on her cheek at the end of the night. Another date. Dinner. Another kiss to her other cheek. He wouldn't dare rush anything, especially not someone as soft and sweet as her.

He feels like such a dirty little pervert when he thinks about her afterwards when he's alone in bed, all the blood in his body rushing south, and fuck he's so hard. He tries to ignore it, he didn't want to do something so debauched by thinking of her like that, he even tries to think about his grocery list, laundry, he'd probably wash his arm later, it would probably be fine in the dishwasher-

Nothing worked.

He groans, shuffling and kicking his sweats off, hissing when his hand goes down to tug at his aching cock, relief flooding his veins at the sensation. He lets his mind wander to how adorable she'd be, the way he'd take her apart in the most gentle way. Lay her against the pillows while he holds those soft thighs apart, giving her the most feather light suckles on that perfect clit, basking in all the sounds she'd make. He strokes himself faster thinking about the way he'd get her ready to take all of him. How he'd make it so good for her-shit he was going to blow-maybe if he was lucky, one day she'd let him put his cock in her mou-

"Fuck!!" Bucky threw his head back, spurts of cum shooting from his sensitive head, his post orgasm haze leaving him feeling like a filthy old man. She were here making him baked treats and he was jerking his dick off like a sick fuck.

Then the night finally comes. Bucky is ready to cuddle and nothing else but he's thrown off because never in his wildest fantasies did he expect this.

She is the girl who sends him reeling the first time he takes her clothes off one by one revealing dark ink on her back and hips. He has to suppress a growl, his eyes growing wide at the scantily clad lace that covers her body.

"Like what you see, Sergeant?" she practically purrs in his ear while he lets his han ghost over her bare skin, his chest heaving when his eyes fall to her perfect breasts, hints of silver peeking from under her lingerie, there was no way-

"Can I?" He asks breathlessly, his hand reaching behind to unclasp the bra, those pretty pierced nipples begging to be sucked.

Bucky who turns into a fucking menace, his entire world flipping upside down when she grinds down on his crotch not hiding exactly what she needs from him. He doesn't even have the ability to hide how feral he is, letting all his inhibitions slip.

-

"My little bunny's a slut, fuck, c'mere" He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, hauling you over to his bedroom like an untamed beast, tossing you onto his bed with no remorse. You're in nothing but your panties which he rips right off, your thighs squeezing together at the way he stalks over to you, his hungry eyes raking up and down your body without an ounce of shame. He tugs his sweats down to reveal his leaky cock, stroking it at the edge of his bed after tossing his shirt off.

"See this baby? Been fuckin' stroking and touching myself like a fuckin' teenager because of you-" He throws off his pants before climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your thighs, spreading them apart with his knees, "-and you've been here lookin' like God damn sin under those cute little sweaters"

He flicks his cockhead against your clit, humming at the clear beads of his arousal that drip onto your cunt.

"Fuck James, need more, pl-"

"Nuh uh, what was that you called me earlier, sweets?" He lets out a dark chuckle, the veins in his cock throbbing as he tightly holds the base, waiting to hear it again.

"Sergeant" you whine with mischief in your eyes and Bucky is a goner. He'll taste you later and most definitely feed you his cock another day but right now he wants to be nowhere else other than your pussy. He wants to watch you take every bit of him, rolling over to lay on his back while you straddle him, his length slotted against your cunt. He holds it up for you with a cocky look on his face, moaning when his tip breeches your tight pussy, your walls gripping his swollen, pink head.

"That's just the tip baby, c'mon, sit on it, wanna put all of my dick in you, that's it, good girl-shittt"

"Oh fuccckk,s'big" You moan feeling the stretch as you sink all the way down, panting and staying still while you adjust to his size.

"That's it bunny, that's it, ride me, ride your Sergeant" He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to grind down on him, making you feel his entire cock in your stomach. "You're a slut for big dick aren't you baby, acting all cute and shy when all you really wanted was the winter soldier's cock"

Bucky wasn't even sure where all the filth spewing from his mouth was even coming from but he couldn't stop.

"S'that it bunny? Say it baby, tell me how much you wanted my fat cock in you"

"Wanted it! F-cuk Sergeant, wanted your cock s-o-so bad!!"

"Fuck yes!!" His feet plant to meet your bounces, his hips thrusting up, slamming his entire length into you. "M'close, fuck bunny, gonna cum already, I can't hold it-

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed. You feel to good. He rubs your clit needing you to cum all over him so he can let go.

"Please, cum all over Sergeants cock baby, give it to me, be a good girl n'cum, c'mon, cum on my dick, yes, oh fuck yes I can feel it-milk it, shit touch my balls-"

You nearly collapse as your orgasm starts to wash over you, his sponge head hitting the most sensitive parts against your walls while he toys with your clit. His voice is muffled as you start to feel waves of pleasure consume you but you head just enough to reach behind, rubbing his heavy, so full of cum ba-

"FUUUCCCCKKK" He grabs you and wraps his arms around your body while he relentlessly thrusts up, biting down on your shoulder while he lets out the sluttiest, loudest moan with 0 remorse. It feels too good and he's sure the neighbors can hear but honestly, everyone should know how amazing it feels.

-

"I got you pretty baby" Bucky coos as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, a shiver running through you while you float in bliss. Bucky pulls the covers up, deciding to cuddle up with you for a bit before running a shower, his previous demeanor replaced with the far less debauched version of him.

Anyway, just an idea. Also, it's past my bedtime.

[screampied]

SLOW IT DOWNNN MAKE IT BOUNCY !? ☆

gojo, choso, toji, sukuna, geto. riding the jjk men so good that they whine for you

cw. fem! reader, whiney men, unprotected, cowgirl, reverse, car sēx, praise, shotgunning (geto), dirty talk, spanking, biting, breaking the bed, size kink, overstim, choking (toji), wc. 3.6k

an. ateez reference >.~

𐔌 SATORU GOJO.

“oh, someone’s gettin’ ngh, cocky.” he’d groan, semi-sweaty hands glued to both sides of your waist. gojo can’t even try to hold his whines because it’s not even seconds later and his head throws itself back in rapture. with a cute abashed expression spraying over his sour features, he swallows what’s undoubtedly the last few drops of his pride. “f-fuuuck, teasin’ me with these killer hips. ‘s no fair, baby.”

and as he speaks, watching you jerk and grind against him at a much more lively speed—gojo captures a nice chunk of your ass, gifting it an impolite smack. he’s so embarrassed that a hand of his covers his mouth. giggling, you gradually peel his hands away, kissing near the tip of his nose. “awwwh,” you coo in a seductive purr, barreling his fattened length inside of you. “don’t be shy, ‘toru. i wanna see that pretty face.”

“shut uppp,” he whines again, a pout immediately stretching over his sheeny-slick lips. your soft touch alone sends him electric shivers to meander all through him. his dick twitches from the sweet sweet friction before cereluan-pristine eyes of his roll their way back into the very ends of his skull. “ugh, you do it s-so good though. fuck me, f-fuck me please.”

with your arms flinging around his broad pent up shoulders, you lean in to bestrew a few kisses near the corners of his mouth. gojo’s rosé-colored lips tremor in longing for more of you. for more of your touch, more of your taste. the head of his cock pursues to mash against your folds, thwacking and thwacking away. “slower, baby?” you whisper against the very hem of his ear, giving it a little nibble to earn another wailing whimper from him.

“s-slow, yeah,” he holds your hips in place, having a race with his own breath—a mere competition. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. submissive, pinned down, and needy. with a three second clear of his throat, he groans, meeting your gaze once more. “don’t get cocky.. ‘m still the strongest ‘n i can flip you over ‘n h-have my way if—”

he gets cut off by your lips, his muffled moans pour right into your mouth and he purrs once a finger of yours strokes alongside his undercut.

another whine leaves from gojo’s lips the moment your fingers brush against there. his precious undercut. anytime your finger would drag down that part of his hair, he’s already a melting puddle. his face was flushed as you’re rocking back and forth against him. heavy drawing pants sneak out of his lips before he lets off a tremulous whine. “o-oh my god, ‘m gonna cum,” and he knows from the way his tip starts to repeatedly swipes against the insides of your sopping cunt. you’re clinging onto him tightly from the inside—a grip so tight that it makes him bite his lip, begging for more. after a while, leisurely—your lips comes to a slowing slow.“fuck, f-fuck me. ngh, think this pussy’s gonna kill me.”

“you’re so dramatic baby,” you tease, sneaking a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “mwah,” and he shivers from your touch. clammy hands of gojo’s grab onto your waist, pulling you further against him before he grunts against your ear. even his whines, they were so cute. he’s never felt more embarrassed. with his head tossing itself back, his eyes widen before he’s dumping a thick load into your needy cunt. “mhm, ‘s good,” you hum, panting yourself before you cup both sides of his face. who was once famously known as the strongest, was now easily able to be mistaken as the weakest . . especially whenever it came to pussy. your pussy. you titter, still feeling him trickle such gummed amounts into you. it’s so sloppy that it sloshes all around your beloved insides. “good boy.”

“f- fuck, say it again,” gojo sheepishly grins, laid back with your waist still in his tight grip. he’s all pussy drunk, the epitome of the word, really. a pout stretches against his lips as he waits for your reply, pretty navy blue irises doe at you before he pants.

“good boy, ‘satoru, my good boy,” you repeat, playfully flicking his chest back so you could go again. “let’s try that again, hm?”

“y- yes baby.”

𐔌 SUGURU GETO.

“s-shit,” geto whews, hurling an arm around the back of his reclined car seat. the mood couldn’t have been more perfect. you were riding him in his car, the view was so pretty. you were so pretty, the way you’re moving all against him—taking his breath away. the woodsy scent of geto’s leather jacket roams through the air as you creep a hand up into his biker white tee. “thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

geto’s groans only makes your pussy throbs multiple by the second. a plump shaped blunt sticks from the side of his mouth, taking a few milliseconds to recover from his most recent puff. with bloodshot eyes, he can’t help but pull you into a deep kiss, blowing a few gusts of air into your mouth. as it travels, his tongue fervently gyrates against yours before you blow it right back into his. once you swallow, it tastes earthy and citrusy. as it aerates between each mouth, you moan, “s-suguru,” you moan, feeling his fingers prowl its way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady. geto’s for a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “gonna cum soon.”

“bet you are,” he whispers, his foot tapping against the carpet floor of the parked vehicle. by the second—geto’s raspy moans start to get more vocal within each jiff that passes. as he’s still buried into your cunt, entangled with every inch of you, your speed arises with its own deliberate quickness. “fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna send me to a hospital with those nasty hips.”

“should i go faster—?” you coo against the shell of his ear, the tip of his cock kissing against your g-spot. it’s a tickling sensation that’s almost enough to make you drool.

geto grunts, his voice becoming a bit more trembly. with the way your body jolts against him in harmony, he’s feeling that familiar primal heat snake its way into the pit of his stomach. “slower, i- i like it when you’re slow for me, gorgeous.” and a hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs. you moan from his touch, vast pads of his fingertips ghosting against your skin. a hand of geto’s reaches towards his blunt and he takes another long deep puff. “ugh, ‘m hitting you in that spot. gonna milk me again, sweet thing.”

“don’t miss this time,” you whine against his neck, taking a few seconds to lick against his skin. geto hissed at the brief pang that entraps m his cock from the base down with such bliss. your cunt’s greedy, swallowing it whole with its entire being—never wanting to part. grabbing onto his large pointed shoulders, he’s just making you throb time and time again. a moistened tongue of his licks against his parted lips before he feels a clench. he’s so fucking thick, as you’re barreling his staggering length, repeatedly slamming down against his lap—you feel him starting to judder from underneath you. it comes in waves and he’s about to lose all kinds of composure with your movements. “come on, sugu. cum with me.”

“keep talkin’ to me like that ‘n ‘m gonna propose.” he jibes, though part of you knew your boyfriend was serious. “mhmnn, f-fuck, ‘s good. right there, right fucking there.”

by now, geto’s entire voice wasn’t the same as it was a few minutes ago. he’s whining, sweet cacophonies of “f-fuck me,” and “baby, ‘s good,” continue to spew out of his lips. in the background, obscene pressure continues to arise and alleviate inside of your own tummy—you’re swaying your hips against him at such force that not even gravity could keep up with the pull. the foam of the driver’s seat nearly wears itself thin before you toss your arms around his neck. “i know baby, give it to me. cum with me, sugu.”

“anything for you, sweet girl,” he hiccups, and that’s the last words he remembers murmuring before he shoots satiny ropes of cum into you. your hole flutters and within seconds, you end up finishing right after him. you both moan in unison, yet geto’s louder, he’s whining against your ear. with his head slump back, he’s barely holding onto waist now. geto’s body shakes as he comes undone, filling up your insides with such amounts of viscous seed. he’s panting, heavily. it’s so much that it dribbles from your pussy towards the crevices of your thigh. “s-shiiiiit,” he sibilates in a single breath, flicking his rolled blunt aside. with a low sigh, he leans back against the fleece made seat. “goddamn, baby.”

a smile purses against his lips, a timid one, but still a smile. above his lap, you’re still spasming yourself. you bring your rotating hips to a steady halt before you press a wet kiss against the edge of his wobbly pursed lips. “you okay, sugu—”

“marry me,” he cuts you off, wrapping his beefy arms around you. “i want you.”

𐔌 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“tch, you’re such a pain,” he’d murmur at your first request to ride him on his throne. “but fine. get up here, woman. ‘n be quick, got things to do.”

despite his gruff tone and stern exterior, you’d make him chew his words in a way he’d least expect it. as sukuna preps you—getting you nicely soaked and wet, he aligns himself against your slick opening. you glance down at the upward curve of his dick and it was purely appetizing. he was already big regardless, but just fantasizing about taking him in his true form with his two cocks make your mouth start to pool with filthy, syrupy saliva. “f-fuck,” you’d mutter, ogling at the cunning grin of his stretch against his face in your peripherals.

bastard,

there was never a dull moment where sukuna ryōmen was not smug—he loved relishing your cute pornographic expressions. how you’re biting your tongue until it turns into chewing, taking every chance you get to suppress your cute little whines. “mhm, such a good girl. you take it quite well for a brat i must say.”

“shut up.”

“make me..”

two predictable simple words and you in fact do make him shut up — just with your salacious hips alone.

as sukuna’s lazily leaning back against the hardened furniture of his infamous throne—he was cocky, just talking and talking.

as you’re grinding your hips against his lap in a lewdly fashion, you nip a bit near his neck. he scoffs, a hand of his pulling your waist closer towards him. with each vigorous jostle, you’re starting to pick up the pace. he’s stuffed all the way inside, churning your insides up like butter. mixing all around your gripping walls with his fat cock, you moan—feeling the edges of his claws gingerly dig against your skin. your flesh, he’s grabbing a fair piece of your ass before he smacks it. the recoil makes him groan, your hips were a mere enemy, a force to be reckoned with..

“is that a pout?” you brush a thumb against his bottom lip, leaning in to kiss him but he growls. sukuna bares a single dang, and instead of it being intimidating, it’s just cute. ruby flared irises of his stare into you before he’s just lounging back against the chair. “f-fuck, ‘kuna. you don’t have to hide your moans, you know. ‘s just me.”

“shut up, girl.” he snarls, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. as you’re continuing to slowly rut back and forth, he gnaws on his lip like it’s candy. for a second, you watch as his eyes flicker. sukuna’s eyes switch to white and then he whines. it’s so faint that you could barely hear it, but he definitely slips out a whine. in a husky groan, he whines again— this time, it’s more of a sweetened whimper. “f-fuckin’ shit,” and he notices you slow down to openly stare at him. he glares but it doesn’t even last because as you’re keeping the entirety of his pulsing shaft warm within your tender walls, he whines again. “don’t look at me, ugh. i— phew, i need a minute.”

you pause, feeling his dick twitch inside your clenching before you have a teasing smug grin. throwing your arms around his shoulders, you peck a kiss near his cheek before running a finger down his chest, sliding past the fabric of his half-work kimono. “take all the time in the world, old man.”

“w- watch it.”

𐔌 CHOSO KAMO.

“don’t think ‘m gonna last,” choso blurts, starring at your gorgeous reflection through the mirror. you’d mention to him that you wanted to try riding him in reverse. he didn’t mind, he was more excited than anything. anytime you’d recommend a new position to try with choso, his eyes would light up. it was purely adorable—with wheezing breaths, he softly sinks his teeth into the margin of your neck. a lengthy tongue of his runs down your skin before he moans. “ngh, go s-slow like that, baby. ‘m hitting you so deep inside i think.”

and he’s just babbling to you, pathetic candied whimpers going into your neck as he sinks into your pussy raw. the concise stretch that shortly follows has your heart racing—head spinning, mind forevermore in a never ending loop.

“fuck, hold me choso. hold my hips, mhm,” and as your grinding significantly accelerates, you feel the sensation of your chest deflating. choso’s sputtering out cute inaudible whines into your neck as you’re moving your hips quicker. “touch me, good. good boy.”

“your good boy,” he immediately replies, taking a second to slink his quavering, reddened lips against the nape of your neck. each kiss he gives you stacks up before it turns into sweet, desperate sucking. choso moans, savoring the taste of your tender skin as you’re thrashing your hips against his. his throbbing cock consistently curls inside of your walls before he nibbles against your collarbone. “hngh, baby. your hips, you’re slowing down on purpose—aren’t you?”

with an airy giggle, you grab onto his knees for support. “should i slow down for you, ‘cho?”

“n-no, please,” he swallows. instinctively his big, bulky arms wrap around your waist. he’s giving you a gentle firm squeeze like a teddy bear. choso never wants to let you go—not now, not ever. he’s starting to hear the expeditious pumping beats of blood pulse through his ears, metaphorically slurping up your fervor, and he whines again. “f- fuuuck, that spot, gonna drain me. feel it, ‘m gonna cum. can i cum?” and he halts his jittery speech before whimpering against your twitching ears. “please lemme cum. don’t wanna b-be messy without my girl’s permission first.”

a breathy whine of your own leaves from your spit slicked lips before you kiss his cheek. “yes, baby. you can cum. ‘s okay,” and he pouts, a longing expression marinating against his features at your words. oh, if it was anyone who could turn him into a soft sap, it was you. you and your seductive, mouthwatering hips. choso brings his wrist over his face as you’re still maintaining a decent pace. his cock matches your movements in sync, piercing through every orifice to make your thighs tense in desire. nirvana, ecstasy, you feel everything coursing through your veins at once. choso’s cute whimpers were now all muffled from him trying to cover them with the back of his hand.

it was cacophonous—he leans back into a slump as you’re mashing against his body. hot needy bodies press back against each other in harmony, it’s so hypnotic. the insides of your viscous walls were smoldering with heat before he dumps right into you. it’s abrupt, a gasp snakes out from his throat as he’s feeling himself spit out such gobs of cum into you. you’re heavily trembling underneath him. it’s so much that it even costs near your thighs, dribbling down and it feels so sticky. you hum into his neck,

it’s so much—choso’s shaking right with you, strands of blackened hair running down his forehead, nearly occluding his vision as he’d still covering his face. “o-oh shit,” he whimpers, and he swallows, the air suddenly growing mute. he can hear the wet, sopping sounds of your pussy soaking in all of him before our of nowhere—it’s a ear splitting creak. choso’s so out of it that he doesn’t even realize nor acknowledges that the headboard collapses down. your hips were to blame, he doesn’t even flinch—instead, he pulls you into a needy kiss. it’s sloppy, he sucks against your tongue as you’re still keeping his dick warm. it’s twitching, convulsing within your hold. as tongues tango alongside each other, he grabs your hips. pulling away, he huffs. “more,” he pants, and you gasp once you’re suddenly now gently pushed on all fours. your ass gets shoved up by choso and his voice pitches. he’s still whiney, but he moans, prodding his leaky tip against your hole. “love you baby. but i-i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

𐔌 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“can a little girl like you even handle me?”

famous last words—

it takes you a bit to adjust to toji’s thickset size, but once he’s all the way inside, his jaw tightens. your jaw tightens too. he’s quite the size with a fair amount of girth that it makes you feel a chilling snapping coil within you. you lean into him, smothering a few saturated kisses near his chin, his neck, and most importantly, his scar.

a sly smirk tug its way against his pink lips as he feels you show his slanted scar its deserved uninvited attention all while you’re jerking your hips against him. “you talk too much,” you inhale, the fullness of your lungs merely snatching the wind out of you. he couldn’t deny it though, your rhythm, it was enticing. rough big hands of his grip against your hips and you can see his adam’s apple bob once his head tilts back a bit. while the manly musk of toji’s cologne wafts through your nostrils, your pussy starts to constrict every few thrusts as he’s deep inside. he’s so big, his swollen sack repeatedly jackhammers and pummels against your soddened cunt before he starts to lean back more.

“ya gonna do somethin’ about it or…?” toji sneers at you, lincoln green eyes never taking you seriously. stubby fingers of his dig into your skin, clasping against your hips as you swing back and forth. as you oscillate against him, he’s taken by surprise once you wrap a hand around his throat. “ooh. chokin’ me too? ‘s kinda kinky, baby. got some nerve, heh.”

“shut up, toji.” you moan, and his eyes continue to wander down your body. god, he can’t help but stare a bit. the way your perfect rounded your tits bounce against your chest. just perfect. his hands were all over you. your body even has somewhat of a gleaming glow, simply from the sunlight that ricochets off the window pane right above the two of you. your hips only then started to get increasingly sloppy,

the action itself turns him on. with an eyebrow raise, you lean in to kiss him. he chuckles darkly, allowing you to rummage your tongue against his.

as your warm body continues to collide against his in such a swift way, he groans in your mouth. you decide to be a tease, creeping a hand against his chest to play with his exposed, broad tits nipples. your fingers strum against it as you’re still shoving your tongue down his throat. with his dick still happily tucked inside of your gluey, grippy walls, he suddenly lets off a whine. “m-mhm?” and he pulls away from your mouth, a string of glutinous saliva snatches away from each spit-coated lips before he sighs. “fuckin’ girl. told ya how my n-nipples get me sensitive when you suck on them.”

“cover them up next time, slut,” you tease, bringing your lips to kiss near the bridge of his nose.

toji’s eye twitches—his pecs were all swollen and out on display, you even inch your head down to lick a stripe against his nipples. “mhm,” you’d hum, feeling his entire body shiver from the coldness of your tongue flick around his tenderly sensitive skin. he huskily groans once you position yourself back up, slamming your legs down against his lower crotch area for the nth time.

with how hard your body smacks against his, you’re sticking against toji like glue. adhesive and all, with your arms still flimsy and frail—you start to make your speed quicker. as your hips piston in pleasure, his low pitched moans start to get louder. “ah, f-fuck,” he leans back, spanking the right temples of your ass. over and over and over, his hand swats against your skin repeatedly like a broken record. “fuck me then,” bratty viridiscent pupils meets yours, and his voice was on the verge of being weaker than it already was. with his tone all cutely strained and timid, it was nothing like the usual toji who’s always haughty and cocksure. as his ravened brows curl into a frustrated furrow, he starts to grab your hips to get a more thorough angle inside of your puffy pussy. “wanna put me in my place? fuck me then,” and he whines again once you squeeze his left nipple, kissing the edge of his scar. “hmph. ‘s doesn’t mean anything though. ‘sides, if y’er g-gonna choke me, at least do it harder, h-heh.”

[jjscrybaby]

thinking about “who did this to you?” and frat!boy rafe 🤭 his girl is always at his frat house and one night at a party, he’s looking for her and can’t find her. He eventually finds her crying and maybe with light bruises on her wrists or something? protective frat!rafe 🥰

rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (creepy guy, wrist grabbing, bruising, protective!rafe, mentions of anxiety, sort of shy!reader,)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The lights were giving you a headache. Topper thought it was funny to repetitively switch the main light on and off, to try and give the room a rave vibe. Most people inside were too fucked up to be annoyed by it, but you weren’t. You’d only had two vodka cranberries, and honestly all you wanted to do was crawl into Rafe’s bed and go to sleep.

During the majority of these parties you’d be glued to your boyfriend’s side, hanging off his arm like a trophy, but tonight was different. You were trying to branch out more, stop being so anxious at these things. Rafe loves a party, and being his girlfriend you should as well. So, for the last hour you’ve been roaming around; making minimal contact with him.

You left the main room with a huff, rubbing your temple as you walked out into the hall. There was no-one in sight, and you let out a sigh of relief that you had a moment alone. You sat down on the floor, leaning your head back against the wall. The door to the bathroom opened and a boy, one you hadn’t seen before, walked out.

“You alright?” He asked, looking down at you in amusement.

“I’m fine, just takin’ a break,” you explained. You didn’t want to speak to him, but it would be rude to send him away; especially with the mission you were on tonight.

“Mind if I join you?” He questioned. You didn’t even get to respond, he was already sitting down next to you. “I’m Parker, by the way.” You introduced yourself, shaking his outstretched hand. “Ah, you’re Cameron’s girl?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, just the mention of him had your mood lifting. Maybe you should just give up with the outgoing thing, maybe you should just go and find—

“You don’t seem like his type.” The statement caught you off guard, all thoughts leaving your head as you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“What does that mean?” You wondered, trying to sound calm.

He let out a hum, as if deep in thought, before shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smirk. “Rafe’s, like, into all this shit, y’know? Parties, drinking, drugs. You’re sat in the hallway alone.”

“Opposites attract,” you shrugged back, picking at the pink nail polish on your nails.

“That is the saying,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I just think maybe, a pretty girl like you, deserves someone that’s more like her. Someone that would sit with her in the hallway, for example.”

You thought he was degrading you, like the rest of Rafe’s fanboys usually did. But, you realised now that wasn’t the case. He was your fanboy. You let out an awkward chuckle, looking to the door that hadn’t opened since you stepped out. You prayed for someone, anyone, to need the bathroom.

“I’m gonna head back in—” you decided to screw the anxiety, and just do what was necessary.

“Why?” He interrupted. He didn’t sound quite so friendly anymore. “We’re hangin’ out, don’t go in yet.”

“I need to find Rafe.” You tried to stand, but his fingers gripped onto your wrist to stop you. You winced in pain, his hold only tightened. “Get off.”

“No—” your prayers were answered as the door opened, a drunken couple came stumbling through. The sudden interruption had him letting go of you, and you swiftly rushed away.

You ran upstairs, through the corridor of boy’s bedrooms, until you reached Rafe’s. With tears in your eyes, you pushed open the door and laid down in his bed.

It only took ten minutes for the door to open again, you flinched; thinking that maybe Parker had followed you up here, but you let out a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of Rafe.

“Hey, baby. There you are, been lookin’ all over— are you crying?” He interrupted himself, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No,” you blatantly lied through your tears, voice coming out muffled.

He wrapped his arms around you, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Hey, what happened? It get a bit overwhelmin’? You could have told me, you know I’d much rather sit up here with you.”

“Not exactly…” you reached up to move your hair from your eye-line, you realised your mistake the moment that gentle look in his eyes dropped.

“What is that?” He grabbed your arm, not harshly but forcefully. Your wrist had turned a bright red colour, bruises would be forming soon enough.

“Nothing!” You squeaked out, trying to pull your arm away from him.

“Don’t bullshit me. That wasn’t there earlier. What happened?” He demanded to know. You knew he was serious, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.

You gave in, tears rolling down your cheeks as you explained to him what happened with the boy. He stroked over your wrist, a moment of silent going over the two of you before he leant forward and kissed your temple.

“Get changed, put on a movie. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” He murmured softly.

“Where’re you going?” You asked nervously, you were pretty sure you already knew the answer.

“To sort out that fuckin’ kid. No one puts their hands on you, get it?” He stated, pecking your lips before getting off the bed.

You didn’t argue, there was no point. Rafe was too in love with you, if someone hurt you he’d do just about anything to get payback.

[bunnis-monsters]

A bunny breeding his pup

Commissioned by @dumbdoggygirl

Bunny Hybrid x Puppy Hybrid!Reader

warnings: breeding, knotting, pregnancy sex, pheromones, lactation, cervix kiss

summary: Bunny hybrid Momo stands up to a wolf hybrid and walks you home. The two of you become friends then start dating, but when you go into heat you’re afraid he might not be able to keep up with your puppy hybrid stamina. Little did you know, the saying “breeding like rabbits” was very accurate…

Word count: 5k words

You have had trouble trusting people lately. Male hybrids only wanted one thing, and that was mating.

The thought was always in the back of your mind when you went out into town or wandered back home a bit too late at night. If you didn’t keep yourself safe, no one would.

This was all before you met him.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was to pick up something sweet before going home to your little cottage in the woods. It was always a bit scary coming home from work, especially when the moon wasn’t able to guide your way due to the fluffy clouds blocking it.

You were planning on plopping down on your soft, warm bed and passing out as soon as you walked in your door… but fate had something else in mind.

“Hey, pretty girl!”

An annoyed sigh left your lips as you turned to look to your left. There was a wolf hybrid approaching, his shoulders relaxed and his stride confident.

“You look like you’d appreciate someone walking you home. There’s a lotta bad guys out here, you know?”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder roughly, causing you to stumble forward before you steadied yourself.

You, politely as you could manage, pushed his arm off of your shoulder, trying to give him a smile. “Ahh, I’m okay, but thanks.”

When he kept following you, your heart began to race. You could feel his eyes on you, and knew he saw you as something to prey on, a slab of meat to a hungry predator.

“Come on, pup. You’re gonna turn down a nice guy trying to help you out. Don’t be a bitch…”

He attempted to reach for your wrist, but you wrenched it away. “I said I’m okay… please, just leave me alone…”

This only seemed to anger him, the wolf puffing out his chest as his ears pinned back. A low growl could be heard as he advanced on you.

“Leave you alone? I-“

Before he could speak any further, a figure rushed between the two of you, standing with his back to the wolf.

“Hey, sweetheart. I saw that you weren’t home yet and came to meet you halfway. All our friends are waiting for us, I said we’d be back in five minutes.”

The person in front of you was a bunny hybrid with soft, curly hair and fluffy bunny ears atop his head. He gave you a sweet smile as if he had known you his entire life and looped his arm with yours.

“Ahh, do you know this man?” the bunny hybrid asked, his eyes cutting to the wolf hybrid, his yellow orbs losing all the warmth they had when he looked at you.

The wolf spluttered, holding up his hands, obviously turned off when he heard there were people looking for you. “W-was just gonna walk her home. Never mind…”

The bunny hybrid stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving the wolf as he scurried away.

“Damn wolf hybrids think that they can scare people like that, but the second they know they could be caught they run off!”

The bunny’s foot thumped against the ground rapidly, indicating he was pissed at the situation. You smiled, reaching out to tug on his sleeve.

“Thank you for that. Most hybrids would be too scared to stand up to a wolf like you did.”

He turned back to look at you, a smile stretching across his face. When you really looked at him, your first thought was that he looked… really cute.

“No problem. Are you alright?”

His cotton tail twitched as your puppy tail perked up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just…”

You winced, and he noticed your wrist that had been grabbed was a bit swollen.

“Ahh, that asshole… if you put some ice on it when you get home, that should help with the swelling and hopefully prevent a bruise from forming.”

The bunny tilted his head as your ears lowered, your tail wagging a bit. “Can I… ask your name?”

His ears flicked as he nodded rapidly. “Yes, I’m Momo. And you?”

You smiled, offering a hand. “I’m (Name), nice to meet you.”

Momo ended up walking you home, making sure that he kept you safe from anything that dared to come close. For a bunny hybrid, he was quite tough.

And as far as males went, he was the sweetest thing you’d ever encountered. To no one’s surprise, you were quick to exchange numbers with him.

The two of you became friends rather quickly. It wasn’t until long that you found out Momo was single, just like you. He was so soft and sweet, and every morning you received a text asking how you were doing and if he could come over when you weren’t busy.

It made your heart beat faster, a fuzzy feeling taking over your body that made your tail wag uncontrollably…

Was this… what having a crush was like?

You met up with him one afternoon, wearing your favorite dress, one he had said made your eyes sparkle. Momo always knew how to make you feel shy and flattered.

“Hey, pretty pup!”

You turned at the sound of his voice, your tail wagging as soon as you caught a whiff of his scent. His own cotton tail twitched, a smile lighting up his face.

“Hi, Momo. What did you want to talk about?”

The bunny had called you a few hours ago, asking for a last minute meeting at a cafe. This was strange to you, he usually asked to come to your home or his to spend time together. You had only known him for a few months now, but you felt like you knew him enough to tell something was different about this.

Momo scratched the back of his head, his fluffy bunny ears twitching. “Well… I thought a public place would be better for the question I want to ask.”

Your curiosity was piqued, and it was obvious by the way your tail picked up speed that you were excited. “Well come on, let’s order some coffee and talk!”

After settling into a booth and some small talk, Momo suddenly became very serious, looking at you fondly.

“I’ve… really enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together.”

Your cheeks heated up, and you found yourself fidgeting with your skirt. “I have too. It’s really been the best part of my day when you call me.”

His bunny ears twitched, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Will… you be my girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, your heart thundering inside of your chest as your tail wagged furiously behind you. It was obvious how you felt just by the way your tail thumped against the booth behind you.

“Y-yes!”

The two of you shared bashful smiles, and he nuzzled his nose against yours. The rest of the date was filled with giddy giggles and yummy snacks, and by the end he was ready to take you home.

For the next few months, the two of you fell in love, unable to stay apart from each other for long. He visited you often, his soft bunny ears making him easy to spot in crowds when meeting up together.

It didn’t take long for you two to kiss for the first time. It was on your third date, and seeing his cute cotton tail twitch when your lips met was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

The first bit of intimacy the two of you shared was while the two of you watched a movie together at your apartment. It was a sappy romcom, and he was feeling a bit bored… so his hand trailed down your thigh, playing with the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Mmm, you keep watching the movie, princess…”

Your puppy tail wagged a bit as he moved to kneel in front of you, his soft nose nuzzling against your thigh. He looked up at you for permission, his teeth nibbling on your soft flesh.

This was the first time a male had ever been so close to you, but you nodded, trying to pay attention to the movie while he kissed your pussy through your panties.

It wasn’t long before you were soaking through the thin fabric, unable to concentrate on the movie anymore. The lewd sounds of him lapping up your slick and sucking on your clit through your panties was too loud, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“P-Please, Momo… more, I need it…”

He tilted his head, looking up at you through his soft lashes. “More..? Okay, puppy…”

Momo pushed your panties to the side, giving your bare pussy a sniff before burying his face between your thighs.

You let out a muffled moan, covering your mouth as he latched onto your clit, sucking and keeping your thighs apart so he could taste your sweet juices.

The way he looked up at you with those sweet golden, yellow eyes of his with such lust and adoration had you cumming within seconds.

He stayed between your head like that for at least 30 minutes, bringing you to orgasm several times before you were too blissed out to even think.

Momo smiled, his cotton tail wagging as he crawled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over the two of you and pulling you to his chest.

“Goodnight, puppy…”

——————————

You felt embarrassed, almost… shy. Your heat cycle was coming, and you had a date with Momo. It was going to be your 6 month anniversary, and you really didn’t want to miss it!

But…

Although Momo had saved you and was so sweet to you, there was always a voice in the back of your head saying he would never be able to handle your heat. He was just a bunny hybrid, and you were a puppy.

It made you sad, really… would you have to break up with him one day and be with someone with a similar heat cycle to you? Maybe a wolf or puppy hybrid…

As the date approached, you told yourself that you would just go… but when it was finally time to get dressed, your heat hit you like a tsunami.

You writhed on the bed, fingers doing nothing to ease the ache in your cunt. It took everything you had to text Momo that you couldn’t come. You didn’t bother to read his reply, just turning onto your belly, lifting your hips to try and shove your fingers deeper inside.

It felt like you could just burn alive, a pit in the bottom of your belly forming. It had never been so intense before, all you wanted to do was scream! Maybe your body was reacting to Momo’s scent. It was all over your apartment after all, and you buried your face into a hoodie he left behind, whimpering in absolute agony.

Your heats had never been easy, but in the past at least you had been able to deal with them without too much struggle. Now it felt impossible, you couldn’t even orgasm by yourself!

As you began to cry into his hoodie, you thought you could almost hear his voice. Your mind was a bit hazy from your heat… but it felt comforting.

You wish you would have just asked him to come over… now you were too weak to do anything besides sniffle and cry into his hoodie.

“Puppy!”

The sound of Momo’s voice became much clearer. Your puppy ear twitched, and you picked up his scent in the air. That wasn’t just some of his lingering musk…

“Puppy, I’m here! Please, let me in. I n-need you!”

You could only whimper, blabbering out a reply through your tears. “C-can’t! Can’t get up!”

It was silent for a moment, but then there was a loud BANG!

You looked on in shock to see the door beginning to splinter. Momo was breaking it down!

Momo wasn’t weak, but you had never thought he was capable of such feats of strength! Even the wolf hybrids you met in college wouldn’t be able to do that…

He kicked through, his leg breaking through the wood. He used the hole to reach his hand in and unlock the door. As soon as Momo was in, his eyes scanned the room for you.

“Baby…”

He walked over, dropping down to his knees by your bedside. His eyes scanned over your form, and you noticed how hazy those golden orbs of his were as he sniffed the air.

“You’re in heat… why didn’t you tell me?”

You struggled to speak, your pussy clenching around nothing as he stared down at you. The way he was looking at you… was he..?

“I w-was… embarrassed… and I didn’t want you to know. You’ve probably never been with a puppy hybrid before, you don’t understand how intense our heats are…”

You had heard tales from friends and family about how smaller hybrids would try and take on canines, seeing it as a challenge. They assumed they could take it, and would come out with good offspring because of the strong wombs of their mates.

But most failed to properly satisfy their mates, ending in unhappy partnerships and tears. You had been hoping to marry Momo, but you were afraid he may also be chasing some tail…

He was kind, you really liked him… but could he handle you like this? You were so desperate, you wanted to pounce and use him until his body broke! It was scary… you were losing the little control you had over your body!

Before you could speak again, you helped, feeling him pin you down with strength you would have never expected from such a small hybrid. He leaned over you, his face flushed but his eyes sharp.

“Oh, my sweet pup…”

He cooed, his pants stretching painfully over his aching cock. Precum leaked down his leg, his red cock barely contained by his pants.

“You’ve never been with a bunny hybrid, have you?”

Your eyes widened, and you were silenced when his mouth landed on yours. It was an instant connection, your tail wagging furiously as his tongue tangled around yours.

Though your cunt pulsed and ached with need and lust, your heart was soaring with love. His lips on yours always made you happy, but now you could almost feel his love and desire from you just from this kiss alone.

“Y-you’re… in rut?”

You gasped this out when he broke away, finally able to pick up his scent over your own heavy pheromones. Momo smiled, nuzzling his forehead against yours. “Yes… I am. I was hoping to spend it with you… if that’s alright.”

Your ears lowered and you tucked your puppy tail between your legs, considering his suggestion. Part of you wanted to say no, fearful that you may hurt him. You loved Momo after all, and would rather have an agonizingly painful heat cycle than lose him.

But the other part of you needed him. You could already feel his clothed cock rubbing against your fat cunt, begging to breed and mate with you. Your heat riddled mind was begging for you to say yes and mate, to be filled with cum and covered in his marks!

“Please…”

You looked up at him with hazy, teary eyes, playing with your own pussy to try and ease the searing heat in your loins. The only thing on your mind now was being bred by your lover and your belly swelling with his young. It’s all you could ever want or need.

Momo panted, his bunny ears twitching as he tugged his pants down, his fat red cock resting on your belly. He was much bigger than you expected, and your pussy yet again clenched around nothing while you imagined him inside of you.

“Gonna be inside my puppy…”

He prodded at your cunt, rubbing his precum and your slick together before pressing in. Momo hissed at how tight you were, his soft pink nose twitching as your sweet, warm pussy envelopes around him.

It was like heaven, being inside of you. Nothing could have prepared him for the utter bliss of mounting his pretty little puppy and taking your for his own.

Without much thought, be bit down on your neck and shoulders, his hips rutting into yours. You were so wet, so needy for him that he started thrusting right away. The sounds that came from your love making was lewd, loud squelching and moans filling the air.

Before long you were cumming, your cunt squeezing and milking his cock, but even as he filled you up with his seed, he didn’t stop.

After a few rounds you began to get tired, happy that he was able to last…

But Momo was far from finished.

You whined softly as he lifted your leg, continuing to fuck into your fat, warm cunt as his fingers played with your clit. Your neck was covered in hickeys, your chubby tummy protruding with his cum…

“M-Momo…”

You whimpered, your pussy swollen from abuse, but your lover only kissed along your neck, placing you on your tummy before climbing back up to mount you.

“Shh, puppy… not even close to being done…”

You yelped as he held onto your arms for leverage, his cock kissing your cervix as he fucked you deep. Your own fingers could never reach that far, and you knew Momo was trying to get you pregnant!

The only thing on his mind right now was his vision of you in a few months. You’d be waddling around, your breasts heavy with milk and belly swollen with his babies. Even since he laid eyes on you, he knew that he would be the one to breed you, to lay claim to your womb. You were his, and he’d make sure everyone in the world knew this fact.

He grabbed your tail, holding onto it as he knotted your sweet, warm pussy. You were just too cute, crying and overstimulated. Momo couldn’t wait to make you cum so much you couldn’t even think anymore!

Even after his knot swelled up inside of you, his hips continued to stutter and plap against your fat ass. He just couldn’t help it, you felt too good and he wanted to fuck you on his knot!

Your body felt so warm and exhausted, you could barely manage to lift your fluffy tail to give him access to your abused cunt so he could continue to pump you full of his cum.

Momo was too far into his rut to notice your exhaustion. His body was reacting to your pheromones and he was driven by pure instinct to knock you up.

He bit down on your neck, holding onto your hips as his knot deflated. The second he was able to properly fuck you again, Momo slammed his cock into you, kissing your cervix.

The night of mating was filled with tears, whines, and so, so much cum. You had never as tired as you were the next morning, your body covered in love bites and stuffed full of cum.

Momo was already awake, his cotton tail wagging as he played with your soft puppy ears. “Good morning, princess…”

He looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes darting from your face to the side then back to you. With the way he had fucked you until you saw stars and cried, he was a bit embarrassed with how fat he had gone.

The bunny could remember knotting you several times, just to continue fucking you the second it deflated enough so he could move.

You whined as you turned to snuggle into your mate, burying your face into his neck. “Mmph… you really wanna give me a litter?”

His heart thumped against his chest so hard you were sure you could feel it. “Yes… I… I love you, (Name). I want to be with you, and make you a mother…”

You touched your nose to his, both of you letting off soft purrs and happy sounds as you spent the morning tangled together in an intimate embrace.

From a young age you had been taught that bunny hybrids were quite fertile. Even when mating with other species, it was almost guaranteed that with just one sexual encounter, pregnancy would be in your future.

And that information had been completely correct.

Momo was absolutely thrilled when he began smelling pregnancy hormones on you, and from then on he became insanely protective and touchy.

Watching your belly begin to grow made him… feel many things. It was physical evidence of the love you two shared, the intimacy and touch that created life within his beloved mate.

As your pregnancy progressed, he caught himself getting hard and horny every time he watched you go up a size in your pants or shirts, or when you had to stop wearing bras because your tits were too heavy and full of milk.

Getting to witness you in the morning when you leaked through your shirt and seeing your cute flustered face as he lifted the soiled fabric and lapped at your darkened nipples… it was pure bliss for him.

Sucking and nipping softly at your sensitive buds allowed the milk to flow, filling his mouth with that tasty, creamy liquid he had come to crave.

Momo could feel his cock hardening, and he felt almost shy. Just as your own body had been becoming sensitive and needy through your pregnancy, his was responding to yours.

When you whined and tugged at his pants, he sighed. “Puppy, I’m not sure if it’s safe for us to mate when you’re this far along… your belly is heavy and swollen, I don’t wanna hurt our kits…”

You pouted at him, puffing out your chubby cheeks at his hesitation. While he was so close, you could feel your body aching to mate with him. Momo’s scent made you feel so hot and bothered, if he didn’t fuck you soon you’d go crazy!

That’s when an idea came to your mind. Momo wasn’t exactly hard to seduce. In fact, he was usually more horny than you most days, much needier as well. If you played your cards right, he might not be able to help himself.

“Baby…”

You opened your legs a little, letting him get a whiff of your arousal. The mix of that and your pregnancy pheromones made his body tremble.

“Yes, my love..?”

You leaned forward, pouting as you nuzzled your face into his neck, rubbing your scent on him. “Can you please take care of me? I need you…”

That was his tipping point. How in the hell was he supposed to just sit by when his beloved mate was desperate for release?

‘Just have to be gentle…’ he thought as he lowered you onto the bed and rubbed his throbbing bulge against your clothed cunt.

The feeling of your soaked panties pressing against his hard on was enough to make him hiss out in a mix of pleasure and need. Momo wanted to be inside of his mate more than anything.

“Momo… please!”

You struggled to move your hips against his with your baby bump in the way. His hand settled over your swollen belly, keeping you in place. It made his heart and sick throb thinking about how he had put kits into that round belly of yours.

“Don’t worry, puppy. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise…”

He pulled your panties off before lifting your shirt, his eyes on those perky, darkened nipples of yours. Once you were bare, his hands explored your body in a reverent way.

The changes you were going through were because of him. He had bred his sweet pup, leaving you pregnant and heavy with his kits.

“You’re beautiful…”

His fat cock rubbed against your clit, and he lined up his lips with your nipple. Milk was already beading at your perky bud. Your breasts were heavy and swollen, something you had been complaining about earlier.

Momo was going to kill two birds with one stone. He would satisfy you sexually and milk your fat tits.

His cock pressed into you, almost agonizingly slow. Momo was being as gentle as possible, sinking into his gravid little mate while his tongue lapped up the milk bearding to the surface of your nipple.

“So good… like honey…”

You arched your back, whining and struggling to take his cock while you were so heavily pregnant. You felt stuffed full… in the best way.

“M-Momo… faster…”

His bunny ears flicked, his eyes half lidded as he struggled to keep himself from pounding you into the mattress.

Your puppy cunt was just so tight and you were begging for him… Momo wanted to go faster, to feel your spongy walls tighten around his knot.

But he continued to fuck you at an agonizing pace, making your puppy tail wag. He loves you so much, he didn’t want to hurt his precious mate!

It was when your milk spurted into his mouth when he hit that special spot that he lost a bit of control. His cotton tail began to wag with yours as his thrusts sped up, his hips rutting against you.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

You let out a whine as Momo lifted your leg, pressing it against your pregnant belly so he fuck you deeper. Every time his cock hit your g-spot your milk spurted out again. His hand squeezed and teased your other breast.

The sight of your milk spraying out of your nipple in little streams made him go crazy. He began fucking you like an animal, his mind gone. All that he could think was that he wanted to breed you, to stuff you full of his cum again.

He couldn’t remember you were already pregnant, he was trying to knock you up again!

“Momo, g-gonna-!”

Your puppy cunt clenched around him, causing Momo to grunt and grab hold of your fat hips. He was frustrated, it was already hard enough to fuck you with your pregnant belly in the way, now you were clenching around him and preventing him from being able to move.

Suddenly you were on your side, a pillow propping up your belly as your mate crawled behind you. His arm snakes under your side, grabbing onto your fat tit and groping it as his cock sunk into your again.

“F-fuck, you’re perfect…”

He lifted your leg, now able to fuck into you as deep as he wanted, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

Now he could properly please his mate and satisfy his need to breed you and unleash his seed into your womb.

Momo nipped at your neck, your tail brushing against his chest as he milked you. You felt sticky and warm, milk running down your chest and pregnant belly.

He could feel his knot beginning to swell, he was going to cum soon!

“Puppy… fuck, I love you so much…”

The feeling of your fat pussy being stretched so his knot could fit had you cumming again, and his cum spurted into your puppy cunt.

The two of you were left a panting mess, tails wagging and ears twitching as you came down from your respective highs.

Momo looked at his mate, his cheeks red and heart full of love. You looked beautiful like this, flushed from sex and pregnant with his kits.

He kissed the top of your head, nuzzling his face against your hair as the two of you waited for his knot to deflate.

“Did I satisfy you, pup? Seems like you’re pretty happy to me…”

You smiled, your body heavy with exhaustion. It took great effort to lift your arm and cup his cheek.

“You always do… my mate always takes care of me.”

You both shared a kiss, tails wagging in sync.

Two months later, Momo held your hand as you gave birth. It was a difficult process, but in the end you were able to give birth to 5 happy babies. Some had fluffy little bunny ears and cotton tails like their father, while others looked like you.

“Mmm, it seems like they like you.”

You smiled, watching as your mate helped you hold onto your little ones. He was easily able to soothe them as they fussed, it was clear they already knew who their father was.

Momo sat at your bedside, his cotton tail wagging excitedly while he watched you breastfeed the kits ans pups for the first time.

“They’re hungry little things…”

His mouth was watering, and once all of them were fed, you lifted your shirt up and smiled. “C’mon, it’s Papa’s turn.”

He nearly knocked over his chair rushing to join you in the hospital bed, making sure to keep his weight off of you as he settled and latched onto your breast.

Momo looked up at you with those golden eyes, and you gently scratched behind his fluffy ears. “Mmm, my big baby.”

He yelped and turned red when you slipped your hand into his pants, jerking him off. You knew that he got hard while drinking your milk, and you just loved toying with your cute mate.

“P-puppy, what if the nurse comes in-“

You continued you pump his cock, making him moan against your breast. “Shh… just lemme make you feel good…”

He stared up at you, nipping on your perky bud. “I’m going to get you back your this, pup.”

“Mmm, I know…”

It didn’t take much to make him knot your hand, his hips bucking as he groaned, cum staining his pants. “Maybe I wanna rile you up for later…”

Momo gave you a lazy smile, his eyes hazy from pleasure. “Someone wants me to knock her up again…”

“As soon as I’m recovered… I’m all yours. Promise you’ll take care of me during my next heat?”

“And every single one after that. We’re bonded, pup. I’m yours… forever.”