ANameNoOneOwns

|20|MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI|୨⎯ hello. welcome to my inconsistent ass blog where I post what I want--because it's my blog and not yours. ⎯୧

[anamenooneowns]

WELCoME

 ⋆ ★ ✧ ˚ · . ↶*ೃ✧˚.

to the stars

Hi! My name is ⋆ANameNoOneOwns⋆, you can just call me Aname, unique, I know. I've been writing since I was ten (not consistently at all though) and I've been wanting to take a shot at doing it again a little more consistently⋆

^⇀ﻌ↼^

Rules & Regulations

ฅ(ΦᴥΦ)ฅ 𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ،

⋆MASTERLIST

[pwncez]

𝒮𝒯𝑅𝒜𝒲𝐵 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝒦 𝒫𝐼𝒞𝒯𝒰𝑅𝐸𝒮 presents a yuuta ﾉ fem reader production . . . ᝰ .ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──── 11 . 5k wrdz , black fem reader , rockstar yuuta , bunny hybrid reader , cat hybrid yuuta , flirting , ooc ﾉ suave yuuta , reader has a bush + nipple piercingz , oral sex ꒰ r + y ꒱ , some dirty talk , cum swallowing , cervix kissing , big dick yuuta , praise , light degradation , scratching . . ? , overstimulation , pet name usage ꒰ baby , good girl ꒱ , he puts you in a full nelson , sex while friends are in the next room .

𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀 . . . dis wasn’t supposed 2 b dis long . ; - ; this is literally jus 6k words of smut i think . possibly more . uhm . . yh . dis will prbly not get a part two either , still not sure tho . Minors && Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch ! ! !

COLD STATIC friday, october 17 8 - 10pm, one night only !

the flyer of which one of your closest friends, bria, had basically shoved into your face was ripped at the edges and the back of it felt disgustingly sticky. you couldn’t help turning it over while rubbing your fingers together to rid the pads of them of waxy glue. “. . did you rip this off of a street wall—“

“—that’s next week and i just got us vip tickets! we’re going.”

it hadn’t been a choice. you didn’t mind it, nevertheless. you knew about cold static, almost everyone did. recently new grunge rock band who impeccably intertwine the strong, forceful chords of their music alongside the unconventional structure and lo - fi production that usually make up a lot of indie songs. they debuted around some time five years ago, had a massive blow up with a song titled ‘ PARAGON ‘ — a satiric tune focused on the ‘ perfect ‘ human race through the eyes of hybrids — about a year into their career and since then, the band has been on a successful roll out.

with over thirty six million monthly spotify listeners, sixty million followers across all social media platforms, and because of so many brand deals, the admittedly pretty faces of megumi, yuuji, toge, and yuuta decorate billboards, occasional television commercials, and are currently blown up on twelve foot posters in front of calvin klein and guess stores across the states.

you can’t really escape them. there come a few times while mindlessly scrolling through your tiktoks’ for you page, a sixty second clip from a magazine shoot or late night tv show interview of the band scales across it and you’re unable to keep from scrolling away. while aesthetically pleasing to the eye they all are, you enjoy listening to them speak about their craft as well . . . more so, yuuji and on a common occasion, megumi. the four of them are strong advocates for hybrid rights and about half of their discography displays so. you guess it’s especially nice to know that people of such high caliber and so respected within their field of career seem to be actual decent persons.

there’s one of them who seems to always catch your eye for a minute longer than the rest . . . yuuta okkotsu. while the eldest of the band, he talks the least — even less than his wolf hybrid counterpart, toge. you supposed your infatuation was at the cause of how enchanting his features are — a sort of ethereal beauty that’s rare. once in a lifetime. come more interviews you watched, you decided it’s more than that. it’s how he sits sometimes . . . lax, legs spread, with his long, always beautifully groomed tail lazily flicking behind him as he seldomly nodded along to whatever megumi or yuuji’d been explaining. how he stands, poised yet in some way, still languid. come the rare posts he uploads to his separate twitter, it’s always a link towards a song he’s currently looping or a donation for an important cause.

he’s perpetually dressed in black, sometimes with a blood red or indigo blue accessory. he stands out with his chunky, silver jewelry — rings, bracelets, jean chains, and earrings that are pierced within the pinna of his ears. what you guess cemented your bias towards him was a video yuuji posted on his story of him in honor of his birthday a few months ago. it was a back camera view of yuuji’s hand pushing open a door that opened out into a huge backyard. his hand had quickly panned the phone away to unveil where yuuta had sat on the porch, head bowed as he tuned an all black — body, bridge, strings, the entire thing — electric, v shaped guitar. “happy birthday, fuckface!”

it’d been the smile yuuta gave when he slowly lifted his head to face him. bright yet suave. elegant though dark, cohesive with all his facial features, it revealed the glint of a silver piercing that poked through his frenulum . . . a smiley piercing. his voice was so low that it rumbled through the tiny speakers of your phone in a barely there hum, “thanks, dumbass.”

and you suppose you’ve had a little crush on him since.

while you simply like cold static — about two dozen of their songs pepper your playlists, you’ll hum to one on the radio, and even sway your hips if a clothing store happened to play one while you shopped . . your friend and dearest roommate, bria adores them.

posters of the band are glued to the walls of her bedroom. she adds clips of their lyrics to nearly every story she posts on her instagram. it’s cute, you won’t lie. “it’s a dome venue,” she ended up telling you the night before the concert as you both occupied the living room couch. you laid your head on her lap as she massaged the base of your soft, flopped over bunny ears. “so the lower half is basically the pit and the upper level has seating. i want us to be front row.”

you had to roll over on your back to face her with a look of incredulity, “. . of the pit?”

her smile was sly, “mhm.”

“bria.”

you both ended up having to line up several hours before the doors opened. given their success and popularity, cold static still sometimes enjoy reverting back to their roots and booking small venues to support. the intimacy of a more enclosed space, between artists and supporters, is always nice too, toge’d once idly commented at a press conference. you aren’t shocked to see the line you and bria lead wrapped entirely down the block and around a corner. before entering, you both and two others are given black lanyards with a laminated vip tag hanging from a clip. after putting them on and scanning your qr tickets, you’re allowed in. bria ends up snatching you behind her as everyone starts to sprint for the pit.

it’s a war zone.

you’re grateful for her. your natural prey instincts make you want to shrink, cry, and bolt the other way, however, even while fully human, bria’s aggressive, uncaring of a wolf, bear, or snake hybrid in her way. “move!” she snaps, jabbing her elbow into a particularly tall male. both of your sets of feet move quick. you clutch onto the hem of her skin tight, ripped leather pants, following her until eventually, you both end up in front of the crowd, right before the nine foot tall stage. a hip high barrier separates the crowd about two feet away from it.

toge’s black and chrome drum set sits on the platform, highlighted by a warm, sapphire blue light. purple, red, and green spotlights three microphones a few steps ahead from it on separate sides of the stage. your heart’s thumping. you’re suddenly aware that they’re all going to be in front of you, in the flesh. turning your head over your shoulder to look at bria who suddenly gives you a small squeal and squeeze of the shoulders, it’s clear it’s hitting her, too. “oh my god, do i look good?” she puckers her glossy lips while running her fingers through her butt length butterfly locs. “my tits . . ? you think they’ll be able to see them?”

“bria, they’re gonna see them,” you blush as she teasingly pushes them closer to your face. “we have a thirty minute meet and greet with them after this.”

the reminder only makes her shriek again. “eek — im gonna lose my fuckin’ mind! if megumi doesn’t let me suck his dick, i’m killing myself.”

ten minutes later, after the venue is completely packed, the lights begin to dim. screams and cheers immediately erupt. toge’s the first to walk out, dressed in a loose fitting, long sleeved chrome hearts tee, oversized jeans, and dc sneakers. he gives the crowd a small bow with his clasped hands held in front of his lips. you notice how the fluff of his tail delightfully wags behind him. “oh my fucking god!” bria’s losing her mind. you give a shy whoop as he settles in behind his drum set. megumi’s next. he wears baggy cargos, a loose tee, and black shell toe adidas. “the fucking glasses!” what makes bria almost convulse within your arms is a pair of sleek, black racer shades that push his token, lax locks off of his forehead. it reveals his eyebrows — strong and dark. he looks almost devilishly handsome. “i’m gonna cum!”

“bria!”

he settles in at his mic underneath the green light with a hand held up as a simple wave — as usual, polite and cool. the other holds the neck of his bass guitar. the body of it is abstractly shaped. it reminds you of a flame almost.

as the lead vocalist, yuuji’s always last.

which leaves yuuta next. you are compelled to swallow down a tensed gulp come first sight of his heavy, black boots. you know it doesn’t really happen, nevertheless, can’t help but feel as though the screams of the crowd are completely blocked off from your down turned ears as you watch him step within the dark red ring of his spotlight. his tail flicks slowly . . this way and that as he casually gives a few approving nods while the slits of his eyes scan everyone.

he looks so good. you think you want to die.

black, slim fitting jeans cover his legs. he wears two belts — one of them traditionally pulled through the loops, a black crystal studded belt whose buckle was in the shape of a snake swallowing itself and the other one was a classic, black, double holed worn diagonally across his hips. underneath them were a few, heavy, metal jean chains too. on his chest is a plain, black muscle shirt . . only, maybe you wouldn’t call it plain because the design of it includes a huge rip right in the middle of it that’s pulled back together with silver safety pins. christ. your eyes are pinpointed on his hands, covered in his usual, chunky rings that reach out for his mic stand to adjust.

you’re transfixed by him. utterly bewitched. from where you stand, you can tell that charcoal smokes out the lids of his eyes. a few specs of iridescent glitter map out stray tears right underneath them. his hair looks soft. it flops over right into his eyes that he doesn’t bother to push away. it adds to his mystique, his look.

to be honest, you can’t remember when yuuji steps out. all you’re really aware of is that some time between their second and third song, yuuta looks at you.

you’d been mostly quiet the entire time — more of a silent appreciator than a screamer at concerts. your grip tightens on the barrier you stand behind as he continues staring at you while flawlessly strumming and pressing at the strings of his star shaped, shimmering black electric guitar. oh god. the song that’s playing’s vocals are more centered around yuuji’s and megumi’s which plainly leaves yuuta to play and . . walk the stage if wanted.

when he takes a step your way, your knees twitch before they begin to tremble . . literally.

as a bunny hybrid, almost everything and everyone is a moving predator. yuuta’s a cat hybrid . . if wikipedia’s correct, a bengal cat hybrid at that, which means he’s rare. he stands over a foot above you, eyes unmoving, simply . . watching you.

unable to help it, you stare back.

“damn, thank you guys for comin’ out,” around ten o’ five is when the wrap up begins. cold static ended up performing five of their biggest hits, five more off of their recent album, four off of the one before that, and three that are only available on their soundcloud — in other words, what only the true fans know. “you were a nice crowd. loud as fuck. we like that. get home safe, alright? no drinking and fucking driving or i’m personally coming to your house and beating your ass.”

a lone “please do!” from somewhere in the top seating rings out which soon fills the arena with agreeing laughter.

with a chuckle, yuuji rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah. ‘m serious. we love you.” and after a final kiss blown and a deep bow, he departs the stage with a two handed wave.

the other three follow him with goodbyes of their own as you all cheer them out.

“i need an encore,” bria’s whining and slumped over the barrier as the arena lights slowly start to brighten, signaling everyone towards the exits. “that was so good. best concert of my life.”

you couldn’t help but softly agree. they knew how to put on a show — keep energy up, get the crowd excited. you rub at her back as she pouts. “aye, yall vip?” a tall, broad dog hybrid male suddenly ends up in front of you both. he’s donned in all black with a lanyard of his own hanging from his neck. you blink and soon nod. “uhm, y-yeah.”

“alright, nice. c’mon, follow me.” he unclasps one of the barrier gates to allow the two of you out. you and bria scamper behind him, arms linked past the stage and around to a back staircase. you’re akin to two, anxiety ridden chicks following a lion into a den. “please, please, tell me i look okay.” you give her a quick scan then a nod. “yeah, yeah,” you whisper in reply while dabbing your small, manicured fingers against her forehead. “super pretty, just a little sweat up here. what about me?”

she gives you one too, “pretty as fuck. i think we’re good.”

up the stairs, back stage, and into a hall. there are two girls already standing beside a plain, red door which a light shines under and an overlap of low, quiet voices chat behind. one of them is, what you think, a hamster hybrid with round, chubby cheeks and wide, pretty, hazel eyes, while the other is human. they appear to be friends, too. when the four of you are all gathered together, the male you and bria came with begins to speak, “i will be inside with you all the entire time but i’m only going to say this once, do not touch the artists without prior permission. do not touch anything that belongs in this room. i don’t want to see anything inappropriate or potentially hazardous. no secret photography and no invasive questions. are we clear?”

“mhm.”

“yes sir.”

“yeah.”

“yeah.”

he seems pleased. his lip quirks a small smile. “alright. and remember, jus’ breathe, alright? they ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of or too nervous about.”

says him. it’s obvious he’s head of their security. you think you want to puke. knowing that the only thing that separates you from them all is currently a door . . .

“bria.” you have to stop yourself from digging your nails within her skin when he gives a special knock to the door before poking his head in. “i think i wanna go home.”

“i paid twelve hundred dollars for these vip tickets,” bria ends up quickly gritting through her teeth. her eyes remain glued to the back of the security’s head, waiting to see when he’ll allow you all entry. “you are staying right the hell here.”

“alright, c’mon. follow me.”

your fingers lace between hers as you end up being the last one led into the room behind him once he widens the door.

the inside is bright. it takes a while for your eyes to get used to, especially after being enclosed within a dark venue for so long, however, once they do, they focus directly on the band of cold static . . standing right in front of you. the four of you quietly, timidly say your hellos as they all give small smiles. “hi!” yuuji’s happy. the browns of his eyes sparkle as he looks at each of you. “you girls look pretty. did you like the show?”

“mhm.”

“a lot.”

you give a quiet nod while bria answers with a, “it was fucking great.”

the four of them smile.

“there’s this thing we like to do after a good show,” megumi unscrews the cap off of a bottle of what you think looks like don julio and pours a stream across eight shot glasses that sit upon a mirrored vanity next to cases of hair tools. “you wanna take a shot with us or what?”

you hadn’t expected them all to be so . . . nice, you think.

after the shot is taken, their autographs are given. either on an album, merch, or . . in bria’s case, the top of her tits. you keep yourself close to her. she’s a magnet for megumi, as you honestly expected. the two of them carry a conversation on the production of their last album while you let your eyes drift along the room. the other three confer with the other girls, however . . .

your heart almost lurches out of your chest when you find yuuta staring at you . . again. maybe not all three of them. he’s unashamed. his arms are folded, face serene though an almost wry smirk plays at the corner of his soft, pink lips. you watch an arm move, then his hand is outstretching . . . and he’s beckoning you over with two of his fingers. your breath catches in your throat as he slowly separates himself from the conversation yuuji and toge’d been having with the girls to stand beside the door.

your eyes shift — left . . then right.

“come here.”

his voice is soft. soft enough to where only you hear it. it descends you forward within the ring of his boundary. you end up standing about three steps away from him, shyly tugging at the bottom hem of your skimpy, little dress that you’ll admit, is more fabric used to cover your tits, box, and ass than anything.

he nibbles at his bottom lip, simply watching you for a few seconds.

he’s even more fucking pretty up close. the denim blues of his eyes are calmative though the vertical slits of his pupils make him appear almost malicious. “. . what’s your name?” his voice is a narcotic — serene, deep. it’s attractive too, akin to a teasing touch being dragged up your thigh.

“( ❤︎ ).”

his ears are upright and face you head on. when you say your name, his tail gives a sharp flick of interest. “( ❤︎ ), huh?” he licks his lips. “that’s a nice one. i wouldn’t have thought that.”

one of your ears flop down in perplexity. you simply can’t help it. “no?”

with a smirk, yuuta shakes his head, “no. i thought it would’ve been somethin’ . . else. it’s prettier than i expected, let’s put it like that.” he starts to rub at the line of his jaw, staring at you beneath the lids of his eyes. he’s taller than you, almost by an entire foot. “so. did you really like the show?”

“mhm.”

he’s humming, “yeah? did we perform one of your favorites?”

you have to think about it. “uhm . . .”

when you take a second too long to answer, yuuta’s eyebrows end up lifting. “we didn’t? . . well, shit, you have to tell me which one.”

your cheeks feel warm. “it’s the one on you guys’ f-first album . . lost in the haze.”

yuuta lets a slow whistle fall from his lips, “ooh. fuck, we haven’t done that one in over a year. i like it a lot, too.”

“ ‘s really good.”

“uh huh. ‘m glad you agree,” he leans against the wall and folds his arms again. blatantly, his eyes perform a sluggish though intent sweep of your little outfit. you can’t help but want to preen and shrink underneath his harrowing attention. “. . what’s your breed?”

your eyebrows lift above your wide, brown eyes and fuck, you’re cute, “o-oh, uhm. ‘m a hotot . . a dwarf hotot.”

your breed explains your height and the black ring that swipes out from the corner of your eyes similar to natural winged liner. yuuta watches how your nose idly twitches. “fuck, you’re pretty,” he soon softly blurts out. it’s something that surprises you both — clearly you more than him. yuuta almost wants to chuckle at how those uncultivated, prey impulses of yours read clear on your face. you now don’t know whether to simply run away or hide. to keep you from doing either, yuuta decides to gently keep the conversation going, “that’s your friend over there?” he motions to a giggling bria with his chin.

mind still whirling from his elliptical compliment, you nod slowly and turn your head to look over, “yeah. she loves you guys a lot.”

“hm,” yuuta observes the picture her and megumi make. “. . she seems nice. meg doesn’t usually talk this much after a show.”

you make sure to file that away in your brain’s memory. bria will be happy to know that megumi seems to favor her a bit more than the rest of you, too. albeit, eventually, time runs out. their security ends up telling you all so and you can’t help but feel a bit . . down. as intense as he is, you still enjoyed talking to yuuta. you liked his attention. you’re unable to keep from feeling that gut wrenching pang of jealousy while stepping towards the door, knowing that there will be four more others to meet them tomorrow. his attention will be caught on another.

“wait.”

who you think is their manager ends up halting you and bria from taking another step over the thershold to follow the other two girls out. she’s a human, with soft, brown skin and dark brown eyes. they’re friendly as she looks at you both and soon utters, “uhm, the band would like you both to stay for a bit longer. will that be okay?”

you look at bria and she looks at you. your agreement is silent though she ends up answering, “yeah, that’ll be cool.”

“okay, great,” she’d been holding a small folder, tucked within her arm that she pulls free, opens, and produces two separate sheets of paper clipped documents. “so, this is a nondisclosure agreement. i’m going to need the both of you to sign it — just something we do to keep things private to the artists’.” you’re aware of what an nda is. you just never would have thought you’d end up signing one with your best friend. “nice. you girls can head back in when you’re ready. have a good night!” after the documents are gathered and placed back within her folder, she parts off down the hall with a warm smile.

there’s no need to knock on the door again because it’s soon snatched open to reveal megumi. he holds a blunt between his fingers, along with his phone. “we’re headed out to the tour bus.” behind him, the other three seem to be gathering a few of their things to follow him. “you both hungry or something?”

you understand why bria likes him so much. megumi is pretty. sharp, electric green eyes dart between you both as you shake your heads. “mkay.”

you linger a bit behind bria as you all start the trek down the hall towards the opposite direction of which you both came. there are eyes stabbing through the back of you. it could be yuuta . . it could be toge. you don’t know, nevertheless, the sensation only makes your heart beat faster. “hey,” yuuji has to jog up a little to match the pace of your knee high, faux furry boots with his own converse. he surprises you. your eyes are widened a little when you look up towards the pink haired dog hybrid. his smile is warm and he smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. “what’s your name?”

after telling him so, he nods. “i like your dress.”

with a small giggle, you look down at it, “really?”

“mhm. you look pretty.”

“itadori.”

yuuta watches the entire exchange. when the back doors of the venue are pushed open to branch you all out into the lot where their large tour bus is parked within, he’s tonguing at his cheek after only taking two steps to catch up to your strides. his voice had been quiet, dark. you don’t know exactly what he meant however, when you look back up at yuuta and see his dark spotted ears pushed back and rotated, you’re aware that he appears a bit . . agitated. yuuji seems to smirk at that. he knows.

your sweet face is clueless as you look between them both.

yuuta only breaks eye contact to look at you, reach back within his pocket, and produce a box of marlboros. “ ‘m gonna stay out here for a bit to smoke. wanna kick it with me?”

“u-uh huh.”

your footsteps halt when his does. you watch the other four continue their way on towards the bus and soon turn your head back to watch yuuta pull a stick out of the box and a chrome heart shaped zippo from that same pocket. the warmth of the flame when he ignites it provides another source of light that illuminates his face and brightens up features that the moon rays didn’t. it catches on the dark, glittery shadow that still smoked out his eyes, a lone mole on his cheek, and the bone structure of his cheeks that were sucked in a bit as he took his first inhale. “this’ll only take a minute,” he ends up murmuring while turning his head away to exhale a thin cloud of grey smoke. “are you cold?”

“uhm.”

he holds his cig between his lips while taking off his leather jacket that’s decorated almost entirely in pins. it still holds his warmth when he drapes it over your shoulders — smells like him too. smooth bergamot and dark amber.

unable to help it, you quietly ask, “are you mad at him?”

his eyebrows push in behind the veil of soft hair that falls over his forehead. you bring his jacket closer over your body. “at who?” he calmly inquires. “yuuji? . . no.” he gives a small scoff of a chuckle and looks down at his boots. “no.” his choice of jewelry for his smiley piercing tonight is a pair of chrome fangs. they only accentuate the flawless lines of his teeth . . and his already sharp canines that your eyes bashfully linger upon.

one of your dark ears flop halfway down.

he softly continues after dragging a pull from the stick, “i just didn’t want him talking to you, that’s all.”

it’d been spoken so blithely, without even a second thought given. his words ignite something warm within the core of you. “no?”

yuuta doesn’t care to elaborate on them. he’s smirking though while shaking his head. “no.”

the next inhale you pull in is trembly and you’re sure he hears. he continues staring at you and you take heed that under the night sky, the pupils of his eyes are now larger than what they were before, back in their dressing room. “. . i really like your style,” he soon offers with a closer step your way given. he admires the tight, black wand curls of your sew in, some strands were dyed platinum blond, the others, bubblegum pink. there’s an icy, white highlight dotted within the inner corners of your eyes that draws him in towards you even closer. he likes your nails too — long, square shaped, decorated with bulky charms on each finger. it only draws attention to the entirety of your hands. you wear chunky, silver rings too.

when he holds out one of his, you hold out both of yours.

“sick,” he mumbles around his cigarette while dragging his thumb across a particular heart shaped ring with a pink stone in the middle.

your giggle is soft, cute. “thank you. uhm . . i like your style, too. i really like this ring.”

on his hand, you point to the one he wears on his middle finger. it’s a skull face, made entirely out of a pearl. “yeah?” he curls it into a fist to give you a better look at them all. you’re grateful for that. his fingers were distracting you. they were long . . elegant, almost dollish looking even. they made your brain go a little fuzzy. “thank you.” without notice, he ends up dropping his cigarette to the pavement and puts it out with the toe of his boot. “c’mon.”

his fingers intertwine themselves between the spaces of yours as he leads you towards the tour bus.

you’re holding his hand. he’s holding your hand. you can feel the slightly raised skin that maps out the paw pads lined along his palm and fingers.

you can only mentally lose your fucking mind for a second longer before you find yourself inside the bus and seated upon a lounge bench across from bria, megumi, and toge. yuuji’d been rustling in the fridge a few feet away, “. . who stole my fuckin’ red bull?”

“oh,” toge pulls his eyes from his phone. he doesn’t seem remorseful when he answers, “me. my bad.”

“what the fuck?”

bria and megumi still resided within their own, little zone. and while toge and yuuji begin to bicker, yuuta takes a seat beside you, body turned mostly your way. “. . i didn’t know bunnies were so . . . ” he trails off. you’re hanging onto his words, quietly waiting as his eyes linger on the pillows of your lips. they dart back up to your own when he finishes with a small smile. “docile.”

“o-oh,” you don’t know how to take it. “i’m . . sorry—“

he starts to chuckle, “shit, uhm, no. my bad. i guess . . the few i’ve met have always been . . . a handful. brats.”

you’re not one. it’s obvious. there lays something primal within yuuta’s eyes. it’s dark, looming. your own trail across his shoulders, his arms, across the span of his chest. tension plays between you both — it’s suffocating. “ ‘m gonna be honest, alright?” his voice is quiet. you only hear him and he only hears you. “i don’t do shit like this pretty often, but . . .” your lips again, he’s staring at them. it’s clear what he wants. you. your mouth feels dry, but your senses are heightened. he doesn’t have to finish his thought because you only have to give a slow, little nod before that wickedly pretty smile is slowly spreading across his lips. “yeah? . . alright. c’mere.”

he’s grabbing onto your hand again and without a word said to the others, ends up standing and leading you towards the back of the bus. his jacket falls off of your shoulders to the seat you temporarily occupied.

“don’t get too loud!”

yuuta’s middle finger serves as his only reply to yuuji’s shout behind you both.

there’s a bedroom behind the door that the straight shot hallway guides you to. yuuta opens it and allows you entry first. inside, is almost a suite. there’s a queen sized bed, slid out from the wall that’s made surprisingly neat. a slim, tall, frosted glass door is halfway opened, revealing a tiny sink and what you can also see, a shower head. the large, almost floor to ceiling window has a sun dimming blind that’s drawn to the floor, adding some privacy.

there’s a lone acoustic guitar laid upon the foot of the bed with a binded notebook and pen beside it. your eyes also catch on some closed suitcases. a bottle of water and pack of sour candy sits on the dresser underneath a mounted, fifty inch television screen. “. . this is yours?” you’re amazed.

yuuta closes the door behind himself. “uh, yeah. the four of us trade off every month, i guess. it’s mine until the second.” he’s smiling.

“i like it.”

it’s sleek, clean. it smells like him too.

when you take a seat upon the corner of the bed, yuuta reaches out to grab the guitar and leans it up against a wall. he places the notebook and pen on the dresser then falls upon the bed beside you, lounged on an elbow. when truly alone, he takes notice of how even more shy you become. your finger presses into the bed beside your thigh, wriggling and digging into the mattress as you keep scanning the room, it almost seems as though you’re purposely avoiding eye contact with him.

you’re cute.

“hey.” he takes hold of your hand.

turning your head over your shoulder, you’re to only watch as he pulls it up towards his lips to plant a soft kiss on all four of your knuckles. his thumb rubs across them when he’s done, as if he were cementing the kisses there. “why are you so fuckin’ nervous, hm?” he hums.

your cheeks are warm. “c-cause,” there’s a pout that plays on your darkly lined lips. “you’re . . pretty.”

he is. his tail waves almost sensually behind him, it keeps drawing your attention. this is the same guy you’ve seen on thousands of ads, whose songs you’ve basically heard a thousand times. he exudes control, he exudes . . sex. with a breath exhaled, yuuta’s arm finds the dip of your waist. a lot of strength hides behind the lithe lines of his muscles, more than you expected, because he easily pulls you down to plop you on your back underneath him where he still casually lounges. your breaths are shallow as you blink up at him through the dark wispies of your cat eye lashes. “thank you,” he ends up saying alongside a small smirk. “you’re pretty, too.”

“yuuta.”

“( ❤︎ ).” he quietly mocks your same whiny tone.

his nails are sharp. they drag down the line of your neck, your arm, towards your hip, leaving chilled bumps to raise the hair along your skin in its wake. “jus’ breathe.” his mumble is soft and his face leans closer to yours as he finds a grip upon your waist. it’s firm. you love it. “i’ve never seen a bunny this fuckin’ beautiful. i wanna enjoy my time with you,” his lips end up pecking a soft kiss against your cheek, only an inch away from your lips. “i want you to enjoy your time with me, especially.”

you’re brainlessly nodding while reaching out to touch his shoulders. he’s warm . . his skin is soft, too.

turning his head, he takes hold of one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist. he peppers slow, soft smooches down your forearm, your inner elbow, only stops when he makes it to your bicep and that’s when his hand splays across the pudge of your tummy. “you smell so fucking good,” he grumbles. there’s a soft noise that reverberates underneath his words — chasmal and low . . he’s purring. quite literally. you softly gasp as he kisses along the skin of your chest and tummy through the opened slits of your dress. “like . . marshmallows,” he inhales deep. “and cake.”

he touches you with strong grasps. an outsider looking in would think the two of you’d been decade long lovers the way he handles you with certainty and calm poise. you arch into his hands, breaths feeling shallow as he reaches one around to take a nice grip of one, plump ass cheek. “yuuta.”

his head lifts. you think there’s only a second of stillness before his lips are suddenly pressed against yours.

you hadn’t expected it, not at all.

he kisses you in a way that makes your blood ten degrees warmer. slow, sensual, and deep. you gasp against him, delicately holding onto the sides of his face. underneath your thumbs, his jaw moves as his textured tongue performs leisure, broad sweeps against the roof of your mouth. it’s as though he’s trying to consume you.

he tastes like sweet candy and sharp cigarettes. it’s an odd mix that you frankly adore. you whimper within his mouth, needy for more. when he pulls away, his lips glimmer with the sheen of your gloss and liner. your own tingle with the aftermath.

there goes that look again.

he’s hungry. ardent.

“let’s get this off.”

you kick off your boots, socks, and lift up to allow him to pull off of your dress. you’re basically naked within three seconds, only thing residing on your body being your jewelry and tiny, red, cotton thong. you’re holding your arms up towards your tits when you lay back down beneath him. yuuta smiles at that. “let me see ‘em.”

you’re hesitant but soon let them fall down across your stomach. “ooh.” silver barbells pierced within two, dark chocolate areolas — gem encrusted cherries dotted at each side of them. yuuta’s surprised, but he isn’t deterred. with an eager tongue, he’s dragging a soft, metallic tasting nipple within his mouth, listening to how you sweetly keen as the other one gets attention from his padded fingers. you’re so fucking precious, it’s maddening. he chuckles softly through his nose. maybe it’s because of how much he wants you, but somehow, your nipples taste sweet. he plays with them — suckles and nibbles and tweaks. “pretty, little tease.”

you drag soft fingers down his chest, you can feel the faint line of his abs. he’s making you needy. your panties stick to your weeping cunt like glue. “wan’ you,” you end up softly mewling. once more, it’s something that surprises the both of you, nevertheless, now that it’s out there, you don’t think you want to take it back. “yuuta . . i w-want you. please.”

“god, you’re so fuckin’ cute.”

he’s kneeling down at the foot of the bed to soon forcibly snatch you closer towards him. no need to rip your panties off, his desire’s too strong. he pulls them to the side, hooking them on the globe of your ass cheek to keep them in place. your pussy is billowed with a mat of soft, dark curls. he likes that. and you’ve only been eaten out a handful of times before, courtesy of your modesty. you don’t like letting just anyone place their mouth down there. yuuta . . . you think he changes your life.

as a cat hybrid, there resides warm ridges on the plane of his tongue. they’re akin to tiny pikes. when he strokes it against the little pearl of your clit, your entire body jolts as though you’d been electrocuted. wrapping his arm around your thigh, he uses his fingers to tug the hood of the bud up and keep your lips spread wide open to grant him full access to it. he draws it past his lips and slurps at your clit as if it were an ice lolly and his tongue was burning. spit dribbles past his lips, adding to the mess of juice already leaking past your clenching hole. “oh, fuck,” you’re whimpering, back arching. your thighs tremble around his head as he releases these deep breaths out through his nose. his free hand pushes one up higher and pins it to your side — forcing you to keep still.

his tongue is a motor. it starts to firmly flick up and down at your hard, little clit and your eyes roll back into your skull. “yuuta,” outside the door, at the front of the bus erupts a chorus of group laughter as someone tells a joke. yuuta pops a hard smack against your ass. “unh!”

he seems to glare up at you between your legs, “you can be loud,” he whispers against your cunt. “i don’t fuckin’ care.”

you’d been subconsciously quieting yourself with soft suckles to your own fingers. you don’t want to be too much of a nuisance to the others, even so, you can tell yuuta’s not giving you a choice. your fingers pull free from your lips with a small puckering sound. you watch as he tilts his head, guzzling his mouth across the entire breadth of your pussy to swallow down. it’s warm, it’s wet . . it’s so much. “yes,” you hiccup on a breath and reach for his hair, right between his ears. they’re both turned towards you, listening close to each pretty sound that tumbles from your mouth. “p-please — god.” the small silver hoops that adorn the trim of them tinkle as they flick and flutter.

“pussy’s —“ he talks as his head moves with his tongue. he slurps at your clit again. “s-so fuckin . . mmph, messy.”

your juices splatter at his cheeks, smears across his upper lip, gets onto the tip of his nose . . makes his face glisten. but yuuta doesn’t give a fuck. he feels his dick plumping up with each new wave of it that trickles back within his throat that he happily gulps down. it twitches against his thigh.

usually, he doesn’t do this for this long. it’s always more of a prep thing when he does decide to occasionally indulge in a nice fuck while on the road. but god damn, your pussy produces something of an elixir. everything about you is simply spellbinding. he couldn’t stop if he tried. when he pushes his tongue inside, you sob out his name. he rocks you on it, pushes you back and forth along the wide spread of the muscle that he points and tautens up to create something narrow enough to fit within that little hole.

you gurgle around some drool, back set in a curved arch, “y-yes please,” you’re whimpering. “yesyesyes, yuuta.” you’ve never felt something like this before. your brain’s sinking into some place . . warm. it makes everything go dreamy, almost ethereal. you no longer think or wonder or care. you just feel.

yuuta’s breathing hard when he gets his mouth back on your clit, through both his nose and mouth. he likes how soft the curls of your pubes feel against his face. they smell good, too. like a warm coconut scented conditioner. he needs your cum. he wants to taste it. he wants it to sit on his tongue akin to a heavy mat . . wants it burrowed so deep within his taste buds that he’ll taste you tomorrow morning, too when he smacks his lips together. “c’mon,” he’s whispering, pushing both your thighs up and away to somehow dig himself in for a deeper taste. “i want you to fuckin’ cum.”

that’s all he needs to say.

you end up locking your legs around his head, keeping him there when that cord within the base of your stomach finally snaps loose. a long, high moan touches the high ceilings of the bus as he strokes you through your orgasm with his tongue. “oh fuck,” you sob and roll your hips against his face while holding onto the base of his ears. “f-fuck, fuck.”

“mmmm.”

yuuta drinks it all.

he’s a thirsty guy, what can he say.

you hear him pull off with a wet popping sound and soon, your legs are unraveling from around him so that he can come to a stand. your mind is still gone, nevertheless, your eyes are devoted to watching him. he licks his lips free of your cum and while kicking off his boots, starts to undo his belt with nimble, ringed fingers. “felt like i almost came while doin’ that shit,” he groans, pushing his briefs and jeans down his legs to let his cock pop free against his stomach.

it’s long . . thick too. seven inches and a shade darker than the rest of him. the fat, velvet pink tip is glossed over with precum. he rubs it in across his shaft with his thumb, watching you slowly sit up until you’re basically eye to eye with it.

a smile is bitten over yuuta’s lip as he continues to slowly stroke himself . . it’s at a leisure pace. his fist is tight as he circles his wrist on the upstroke, only to push it back down. that small hole at the crown of it plays peekaboo behind the thin sheath of his foreskin with each one.

you need him so bad.

“wanna swallow it?” he asks you quietly. “. . huh?”

your eyes — not a thought behind them when you sweetly flutter those dark brown orbs up at him. you give a nod though, slow yet sure.

“mm,” yuuta takes a step closer to you, drags his nails across the curve of your jaw to your chin which he then grasps. his face is placid as he softly demands, “tongue. let me see it.”

you let it slide out from inside your mouth, placing it on display. pink and pretty. yuuta makes a sound — something crossed between a grunt and chuckle. “fuck yeah.” without warning, he’s letting a stream of his spit fall from his lips to your tongue that he pats in with the heavy tip of his cock. “suck my dick, baby.”

your hand grabs his base. you use the spit he gave you to lubricate his shaft even further before you’re swallowing an inch in. he tastes like musk and skin. the adrenaline that only a good performance gives makes the flavor more potent, but you don’t mind. it’s heady, it’s nice. you play with his tip, suckling at it, blinking up at him with those fucking lashes, all cute and sweet. “god,” yuuta tilts his head in fascination, watching those plump lips stretch open when another two inches are added. “girls like you . .” pure, wide eyed little angels that resort into filthy sluts behind a locked tour bus door. “i fuckin’ adore.”

it doesn’t take much until you’re slobbering all over him, fist following your lips as you gag and quaff him down within that tiny throat of yours. webs of saliva dangle from his balls, leaking down to the carpet below.

yuuta has his head tilted back — one hand at the back of your head while the other holds up his shirt as he moans and immerses himself within the feel of it all. “y-yeah,” he coos lowly, sparing a look down at you, watching how your eyes water and your back curve in as you cough around him. “eat that shit up . . good girl.” you release a soft hum, happy with his praise.

you give him a show. pop him out, loll out your tongue so that he can see the foamy strings of spit that connect between your tongue and the roof of your mouth before you’re pushing his dick up against his stomach to lave it over his balls. yuuta’s eyes fall back. he fists a tighter grip within your curls, jaw clenching as you play with them in your mouth — suckle your cheeks in, roll your warm tongue back and forth over that heavy sac. “a-awe, shit,” he groans while your hand still slowly strokes at him. “g-god, this feels so . . fuckin’ good.”

your clit thumps, but you disregard it.

sucking his cock is what truly feels so good. when you drag it back inside your mouth, you return to bobbing your head and glugging him down, this time with no hands. your gag reflex is strong, but yuuta loves how you ignore it. you’re loud as you cough and sniff and keck, but you keep your cheeks suckled in tight — that fist pumping, eyes locked on his.

“ohhh, shit!” yuuta gives a small laugh of shock. his hips begin to move, stuffing his dick further in your pretty mouth. “where . . h-have you been all m’fuckin’ life, hm?”

his hand lets his shirt go so that both of them can find a grip in your hair. he forces you to take him even deeper. his meaty tip knocks at the back of your throat rhythmically . . . it’s a song he especially loves. one of his favorites. “yeahhh,” he drags out underneath his breath. “goodgirlgoodgirlgood fuckin girl.”

your eyesight is blurry with tears and snot trickles from your nostrils . . .

abruptly, yuuta pulls out and you gasp for air. you’re coughing and panting as he fists himself at the base. “shit, c’mere. c’mere.” he’s bending down to give you a sloppy kiss. you whimper beneath it. “oh, i know.” he’s pushing you back flat upon the bed. “i got a lil mean, ‘m sorry.”

you watch him lean over to open the nightstand drawer. he produces a black wrapper from within it which he then rips open and while leaning on one arm, he rolls the ribbed, lubricated condom across the stake of his dick with one hand. “alright, baby,” he taps his tip on your cunt, pushing one of your legs up high so that he can get a nice angle inside. “you feelin’ okay?”

mind still drained a little empty from that first orgasm and now because of a rough mouth fuck, you can only nod before whispering a quiet, “yeah, ‘m . . good.”

yuuta’s ears are positioned flat back upon his head with focus as he looks down to watch your cunt slowly open up around his dick upon that first push inside. you gasp, he hisses. “shit.”

“yuuta.”

he keeps pushing — never halting. it’s as though his length is never ending. your nails dig deep within his shoulders, drawing his attention to his shirt that he still wears and after bottoming out, he’s quick to peel it off. skin to skin, he’s warm and lithe. not too much muscle resides on his body, albeit, yuuta’s strong. you feel it underneath your fingers.

“unh,” you melt underneath him, feeling his hips slowly grind as he remains nuzzled deep inside of you. “your cock’s so . . big.”

yuuta still leans on an arm. he decides to fall onto it and brings you with him until you both lay on your sides with your leg hiked atop of his hip. “pussy’s so tight, too,” he’s mumbling. “feels like ‘m gonna break you, baby.”

his words, his touch, his scent, him. you pull him closer. “fuck me, yuuta,” you’re mewling and combing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. you feel his tail give a sharp thrash at the sheer desperation that underlines your tone. “please?”

no need to beg. he brings you in until you both are chest to chest — until those cheeky, little piercings of yours brush against his pecs as he gets a firm grip of one of your ass cheeks while the other arm wraps itself around your back. his thrusts start off slow. they’re already so much. because of the lube spread across the condom and because of how much you leak, the glides are easy. too easy, almost. “ ‘m mygod.”

he racks up a smooth, steady tempo.

it sends your tits bouncing up against his chest. your ass cheek jiggles against the tip of his fingers — you still wear your thong. he has to grip the fabric within his fist to keep it from sliding back into place. “fuckfuckfuck,” you’re gasping and holding onto his bicep, eyes heavy as they stare into his.

“keep your leg up — unh, there you go.” yuuta’s moans are lovely. he hums and gives a small whimper, sighs and hisses. “you listen . . well. i like that.”

he smiles against your lips, teasing you with a kiss as his thighs smack up against your ass. he concocts a strident sound of thick plop plop plops. they mingle between both your noises of bliss and his fat cock pushing in and out of your wet, puffy hole. “y’so bii-iii-ig,” your voice jumps in times with his pounds. you’re going dizzy because of how good it all feels.

“take that shit,” he breaths and reaches for your leg to open you up even wider. “take m’fuckin dick, baby.”

it’s too much. you squeak and jerk your hips when his tip pats monotonously at the soft ridge of your cervix. “oh fuck — oh fuck.”

yuuta drags his nails up your thigh to your ass once more. he can’t help himself from taking a nice grip at the cloud of fluff that sits at the base of your back. your tail is sensitive. over a thousand nerve endings are retained there. your eyes fall shut, body goes completely lax, and you let him squeeze at it in time with his hard thrusts. drool trickles past your lips, down your chin. your face lays upon his bicep. you just . . let him. “what a good f-fuckin bunny,” he mewls, letting it go just to pop another rough smack to your ass. he finds it again as you hiccup and nod along to his words, simply dumb now. “right here? my baby likes when i squeeze her here?”

“mhmmmm.”

yuuta smiles over his bottom lip, beginning to lightly tug at it. you react beautifully — arch deeper into him, spread your legs wider, body begins to tremble all over. you feel like his dick is muddling your guts from the inside out. in the best way possible. “god, you’re so fun,” he smoothly chuckles and finally satiates your little squeaks with a kiss. “pussy feels so g-good.”

a frothy ring of cream begins to form at the base of his cock around the condom. you would have never seen yourself in such a position a month ago. you would have never thought you’d have the hard dick of a literal rock star, pounding your pussy this nice and well even just last night.

“ungh . . . damn.” yuuta’s losing himself, he’ll admit it. his thrusts are sloppy, yet hard. the grip he has on your thong starts to slip and because of his nails being so sharp, even after being filed down and trimmed before every single show, they still end up slicing through the fibers of it with a small ripping sound. the fabric falls from your waist. at least he doesn’t have to hold onto it anymore.

with a now free hand, he establishes a nice, wide fingered grasp on the soft round of your butt, “god, this fuckin’ ass,” he whispers underneath his breath. it’s soft, fat. the skin of it pours around his fingers as he starts to force you to meet his hips, pound for pound. those gooey walls clamp down on him, fine and tight. “yuuta,” you moan his name so pretty. “yu-uu-uuta-aa.”

pecking soft, velvety kisses against your spit slicked lips, yuuta forces you to keep your face up and close against his before carefully saying, “words, baby. use your words.”

how can you tell him you’re a hop, skip, and jump from completely unraveling into an earth shattering orgasm when he’s beating your pussy up as though he’s angry at her? the air inside of his room is warm — it oozes with the aroma of sweat and sex. yuuta doesn’t want this to end so fast, he almost doesn’t want this to end at all. but, your nasty, little cunt is clutching on him . . too fucking tight. and your body’s starting to seize up.

no. he can’t let you. he won’t let you.

your orgasm is snatched out of your paws when he suddenly pulls himself out . . . it had been right there. just within your reach. something magical, something you’ve never ever experienced. the tears are inevitable. you end up blubbering for him and canting your hips, “b-back in — please . . need it. i n-need it—“

yuuta shushes your cries. he can’t help grinning. oh, that felt good. he’ll confess, he’d been close, too. and it hurt him just enough as you to have to do that but damn, was it worth it. you’re even more needy now and somehow you’re even cuter. “so fuckin’ filthy,” he sighs while slapping his fat shaft up against your pussy that splashes watery droplets of cream up against his groin and your thighs with each one. “c’mere. sit up for me.”

yuuta rolls over onto his back and brings you on top so that you straddle his hips in reverse. oh. the picture you make. you sniffle and fall onto your hands which leaves your back arched, plush, brown ass perked out towards him. to make it even better, you turn your head over your shoulder to look at him, pretty pout on your lips. “so whiny.” your black, fluffy tail twitches against your back when his palm ricochets off of your ass after another slap. “push my dick back in there.”

“m . . m’kay.” your little hand reaches back for the head of his cock. he watches you rub it up and down your swollen slit a few times before you’re gingerly pushing it inside with a gasp of, “a-ah . .”

yuuta drags his nails down your thighs to your calves, appreciating how welts of rose blossom in the aftermath.

“mmmm.”

facing the bed is a mirror. it stands in front of the window, giving you a full, widespread view of you riding, or rather trying, to ride yuuta’s cock. your rhythm is off, limbs are weak, maybe you’re still upset about that orgasm being snagged away from you too . . but you push down on him slow, rise off with shaky hips. you do this multiple times. you’re tired.

yuuta clicks his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. “i thought bouncin’ was what you bunnies did best.” he’s disappointed, albeit not surprised. you’re a pillow princess — a crybaby, too.

with a sigh, he’s forcing you to place your feet flat on the bed so that you crouch over him. “down.” he forces you to lay with your back against his chest, head on his shoulder. you squeak when you feel him grab your legs, pull them back until your knees touched your ears, and with that . . yuuta digs the heels of his padded feet against the mattress and starts to sharply raise his hips to maul his dick in and out of your weeping hole.

. . . near the front of the bus, between the few seconds of silence after yuuji tells bria about their next city stop and asking if her and you will meet them there, the four friends suddenly hear a sharp SMACK! and your broken, pleasure filled sob. right underneath that is yuuta’s more low, soft tone panting out, “keep fuckin’ still.”

“. . uh,” yuuji gives an assuring smile to bria whose eyebrow arches up in concern. “s-she’s okay.”

cue your sweet hiccups, “don’t s-stop. don’t stop.”

toge stands, “ ‘m gonna go smoke.”

“we’ll come with.”

he’s fucking you so hard. his stamina is perpetual.

you’ve never experienced a position like this — a full nelson. he has you completely folded up with your pedicured feet in the air. your toes are adorned in cute, little rings . . they curl when his fleshy tip starts to knock at something inside of you. something special that nearly has your eyes crossing.

yuuta’s starting to lose the handle on his self control. you just feel so fucking good. he moans, piercing his nails deep inside the cushion of your thighs. “s-shiiiiit,” he breathes. his balls plop against your tiny clit with each thrust up. “takin . . takin’ me like a good girl. such a good girl, oh my f . . fucking god.” it’s almost unbelievable. your pussy just opens up and takes every single pound . . and beautifully, may he had. squelches around his dick, makes the both of you messy with her slick bubbles of appreciation.

that familiar edge of your orgasm is approaching. your eyes squint closed and your ears pull down over your face in preparedness. “unh . unh . hng . fffuck . mmph.”

the warmth of his breath puffs soft air against them as he teases in a strained croon, “you take anyone else this good?” your head rapidly shakes from left to right as you feel it building higher and higher. “huh? no . . . ? jus’ me?”

“mhmmm.”

fuck, he’s going to cum too. for a moment, the room goes quiet. there’s only the sound of his balls flopping up against your sodden pussy and the mattress’ springs lightly trebling. you hold your breath until it finally hits you . . and when it does, your pulpy walls lock onto yuuta’s cock tight which sends him dropping head first into his own orgasm as well. his jaw clenches, eyes squeeze shut, and his head falls back as he fucks himself up inside you one, good time and keeps himself there. “. . fuck!”

“m’mmmygod.” you squeeze at his wrists as your pussy keeps contracting, working to push your cum out that seeps out over his dick in waves. “f-fuck, yes.” against all odds, you keep trying to move your hips. yuuta gulps for his next breath as he feels his cum balloon the tip of the condom.

his eyesight is blurred at the edges when he manages to open them. his heart is racing three times faster than normal. he can’t remember the last time he came so hard.

“m-more,” he hears you sweetly whimpering. you turn your head into his neck and nuzzle your nose at his jawline. “yuu’, please. more.”

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

you’re so cute. you feel so good. and yuuta hasn’t had his balls truly, properly drained in about six months. you want more. he can give you that. he wants more of you, too.

and so, he lets his cock fall out of your pussy with a lewd ‘pop!’ after such, you roll over to lay at his side, watching him pull the loaded and sticky condom from off of his still hard dick and let it fall within a tiny waste bin by the nightstand. from inside of it, he grabs another wrapper, rips it, and rolls another one on.

“want you jus’ like this,” he breathes out while kneeling between your legs.

while woozy brained, you’re also elated. you smile up at him while biting the tip of your nail. the slits of his eyes are dilated. you think this position may be your favorite of all. yuuta’s waist is . . tiny. it’s attractive. the faint ridges of his abs flex as he slowly pushes back inside of you. “ungh, there we go . .” dark locks flop over his eyes. some hair is matted near the base of his ears and to his temples with a slight sheen of sweat and he licks his lips to gather some from off of his upper one before leaning down to kiss you again. you hum while shyly lapping your own within his mouth, still tasting yourself from so many minutes before.

with his lips glued to yours, yuuta presses his hands against the pillow underneath your head and starts to lift and drop his hips . . steadily pummeling his cock in and out of your cunt. he feels how your lips begin to tremble against his own. your legs knock closed at the knees, “s-so deep.” he really is. you feel him in your tummy completely in this position.

with a lazy smile, yuuta pulls one apart from the other and braces it at your side with his hand, “jus’ let me take it,” he whispers. his forehead is pressed against yours, both sets of heavy lidded eyes locked. “let me make this pussy cum one more time, hm.”

he steals each exhale you give and you do the same. his cock soon begins to gift your greedy pussy long, hard slugs. it’s so fat, it’s so perfect. it fits inside of you like a puzzle piece. your moans are beginning to rasp near the ends — you sound fucking adorable.

yuuta lifts himself up to return to that kneeled position and starts to piston his hips back and forth. he watches your eyes roll backwards, fingers start to creep up back inside your mouth to muffle those precious squeaks and gasps of pure, unrefined ecstasy. those plump tits of yours bounce up and down against your chest, your clit glistens a rosy pink beneath the veil of curls that cloak your pussy. you’re so pretty. “you look like you feel s-so good,” yuuta moans, head tilting in marvel. it isn’t just the feel of your cunt that has his head spinning, but the sounds you make, and your face, especially too.

you whine out a broken, “i d-dooo.”

“god, you’re filthy.” a sweat waxed thumb finds the hard nub of your clit and he begins to swiftly rub it in time with his rhythm. “make this shit cream again . . lemme see it.”

as if an entity of her own, your pussy listens. milky slick starts to trickle out of you again, messying the sheets, his fingers, his cock. it gives love taps against your cervix, hitting it in the most delicious way possible. your words are slurring and you can’t keep your eyes open for the life of you anymore.

yuuta’s never had sex this good. he isn’t sure if he’s going to be the same after this. “gonna write a f-fucking song about you,” he mumbles, more of to himself. you hear it, nonetheless, and are unable to keep from tightening your legs around his waist. you’re completely smitten by him and he’s enchanted by you.

the bed begins to shake underneath the weight of the both of you and his brutal thrusts. he fucks you with cadence — at a catchy rhythm that only the two of you hear. “ ‘m g-gonna,” your words catch on a hard, shuddering breath. “. . yuu’, ‘m gonna cum again.”

it’s all just so vulgar. your pussy is talking on her own now — just squelching and quashing and gurgling as she desperately sucks his cock up. yuuta lets his head fall back. he loses himself in the pleasure. “ ‘s bunny pussy’s gonna be t-the . . death of me, god damnit.”

his balls are drawing up, tighter and tighter. your tummy’s starting to tense.

“ooooh.”

there’s a rough snarl from him, “fuck.”

you’re both panting out — holding onto one another tight. you thought coming with someone was pretty rare . . something it takes time and time again of practice, nevertheless . . once more, when your orgasm hits, yuuta’s does, too. you squeak as he keeps pounding you both through it. your body jolts underneath his, hands thrash for the sheets for an anchor to reality. he bites his bottom lip until his teeth indent the skin, never halting.

he only begins to rock it out with sloooow pulls of his hips when you push at them with twitching fingers. you’re begging for mercy. back and forth, baaack and forth. you whimper with sensitivity, knees trembling as you try to close them once more. he pulls them back open with a leisure shake of his head and keeps going. “jus’ . . a little longer,” he mewls beneath his breath, voice rough. “a little f- . . . fuckin’ longer.”

sniffling, you both watch as he soon lets his cock drag out of you . . inch by inch until his softened, pink tip falls out. there’s a bubble of white that peaks at the condom. it’s so much of it, you think it’s about to burst. “shit,” he sighs. after tugging it off and disposing of the wrap, yuuta falls onto the bed, on his back beside you. it takes what feels like eons for the both of you to catch your breath. “uhm,” he smacks his lips together a few times and turns his head to look at you. he watches your eyelids flutter before you blink up at him, eyes big and inquiring as you wait for him to speak . . . “. . damn you’re pretty — uhm,” he soon smirks watching you giggle and timidly bury your face within a pillow. “i want you to stay the night.”

“. . my friend—“

“she’s staying, too. she’ll bunk with megs.”

you give a shaky nod. “o-oh, okay. good.”

“mhm.” he reaches an arm out and firmly tugs you into his chest. your heart thuds. you’re sure he feels it against his side but he’s nice enough to ignore it as he grabs his phone, opens it, and lets you watch him text megumi to tell him that the both of you are staying. after the text is shot through, he lets his phone fall to the floor and releases a tired sigh.

you both breathe for a moment. your hand presses against yuuta’s chest, watching it rise and fall in tune with yours. “that was fun,” he soon murmurs. “. . i liked that . . a lot.”

smiling, you try to hide it within his chest, “me too.”

“mmm,” rolling you over, yuuta wants to make sure you’re looking at him when he says, “before you leave tomorrow, i need your number.”

your face is smoothed over in surprise, “uhm . . really?”

he simply nods, “yeah. don’t try to sneak out on me, either. i don’t like that shit.”

“i won’t.”

he holds your face between his fingers firmly when he pecks your lips and mumbles a soft, “good girl,” onto them.

and weeks later, maybe even a month or two . . when cold static releases a new song, one titled ‘ BUNNYGIRL ‘ that drops at midnight on some random night with no previous promotion, you’re unable to keep your cheeks from burning come each play it gets on the radio or when it randomly spins in through your playlist shuffle. “you like it?” yuuta’s soft, smooth voice will ask you over the phone that next night. he’ll be in paris . . in his hotel room, scrolling through the feed of your instagram pictures with his phone on speaker, listening to you question, “did you seriously have to backdrop my moans in the track, yuuta?”

“yeah,” he’ll click on a post you recently made. a selfie. you’re smiling in it, big and wide, and his eyes’ll soften as he’ll stroke his thumb over the screen where your cheek is. “i did, baby.”

[anamenooneowns]

*runs away with suspiciously shaped text in mouth*

[gilduii]

drabble , domestic simon who loves your tits & wicked 18+ gaslight king

"were you just singing?"

"negative."

"simon, we live alone."

the shower is scalding. his pale, freckled skin aflush under the stream and you yank your hand away, hissing, when you test the waters.

"so?" his stare is dissembling. leering. even more so as he watches you strip through the vinyl. he rubs soap over the dusty curls protecting his hefty softened cock. ruddy, bulbous head drooping under its own weight despite how he gripes it at the base.

gives himself a little tug when you pull back the curtain once more—hand tucked into your armpit, forearm braced over the fat of your tits; prudish, as if his teeth aren't branded into your cleavage—to test the now cooler water.

you cock an eyebrow at him, perplexed.

"it's just us that live here."

"a ghost then."

"our house was only built a few years ago," you snark—all bark, not nearly enough bite—just as his everlasting patience snaps. simon reaches over the threshold of the shower stall, curls a meaty hand around your bicep, and yanks you beneath the water. "how can it be haunted?"

"land, maybe," he supplies unhelpfully, pulling you flush against his front, the print of his dick pressed against the cleft of your ass.

simon hikes his chin over your shoulder—heavy grunts and groans against your ear—and uses his bar of soap as an excuse for his hands to roam over your chest and pinch your nipples between his index and thumb. then, pull.

"just admit you were singing wicked, simon."

his pause is so fleeting that you fail to notice—too caught up in the way he methodically massages your sudsy tits together by testing their weight and jiggle in his palms.

angles them directly into the heated stream, lip curling when you inevitably shudder in oversensitivity.

"was the bodies i buried in the garden."

now it's your turn to pause. jolt, in fact. you squint up at him. equal parts confused and suspicious. maybe it's another shit joke.

"what?"

"cornflowers needed fertilizer." he's dead serious. callouses scraping down your torso to cup over your cunt.

"fuckin' hell—bodies?" you're spitting and the corner of his mouth simply quirks up, his middle finger tracing across your seam, splitting your lips apart for him to notch a fingerpad against your slicked hole.

"only four."

"what?! why? who? the fuck is wrong with you?" your grip is a vice around his wrist, tugging his hand away from paradise. almost as fast as it appeared, simon's smile is wiped off his face.

too soon for him to mention the bodies of your shitty first dates, then.

time to backtrack.

"it was m'singing."

"no. no. why are there bodies buried in our garden?"

"defying gravity's my favourite."

[anamenooneowns]

hehehe

[rafesbowbunny]

rafe cameron p!links 18+ !

c!w; mdni !! these are twitter links that contain porn videos.

for the link to work you'll have to be logged onto twitter / to have the app otherwise it'll come up with an error. please let me know if any of the links stop working / the twitter account having posted the link has been taken down !

𝜗𝜚 size kink bulge

𝜗𝜚 anal in the backseat

𝜗𝜚 rafe playing with bunny!reader's pussy

𝜗𝜚 rafe eating you out (looks scarily like drew actually)

𝜗𝜚 overstim with rafe's fingers

𝜗𝜚 rafe taking his anger out on you on the couch

𝜗𝜚 being his fuckdoll

𝜗𝜚 older!rafe sucking on your tits

𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you deep into the ground

𝜗𝜚 sitting on his face

𝜗𝜚 rafe hitting it from behind

𝜗𝜚 sub!rafe

𝜗𝜚 soft!kook!reader getting fucked in her matching set

𝜗𝜚 reverse cowgirl while frat!rafe plays video games

𝜗𝜚 rafe fingering you during anal

𝜗𝜚 playing with your pussy while you're tied up

𝜗𝜚 bouncing you on his cock in a miniskirt

𝜗𝜚 beefy!rafe holding your hips and fucking you on his cock

𝜗𝜚 creampie while you're on top

𝜗𝜚 squirting around rafe's cock

𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you rough

𝜗𝜚 rafe thrusting into your pussy hard

𝜗𝜚 making you squirt with his fingers

𝜗𝜚 creamy breeding kink

𝜗𝜚 rafe cumming inside you then eating you out

𝜗𝜚 holding your hands down on your back while fucking you

𝜗𝜚 size kink & teasing you

𝜗𝜚 professor!rafe & student!reader

𝜗𝜚 squirting mixed with cum

𝜗𝜚 stretching your tiny hole with rafe's huge cock

𝜗𝜚 another round with rafe before bed

𝜗𝜚 making you shake from just rafe's fingers

𝜗𝜚 rafe loves teasing & fingering your pussy slowly

𝜗𝜚 rafe fucking you feral

𝜗𝜚 playing with your folds before sliding it in

𝜗𝜚 somno with rafe (fake)

𝜗𝜚 rafe drilling his cock into your pussy

𝜗𝜚 rafe teasing your pussy before fucking you

𝜗𝜚 dilf!rafe stretching you out

𝜗𝜚 cumming inside you while you still bounce on it

𝜗𝜚 rafe pistoning his cock into your weeping hole

𝜗𝜚 dilf!rafe fucking you first thing in the morning

[johannestevans]

more on my Twitter

[mycatwantstoeatpins]

[Description: series of tweets from a raconteur of repute (@JohannesTEvans):

Mermaid who’s all tentacles who’s worried about having sex with her girlfriend bc she doesn’t want to hurt her with Too Much vs gf who’s like (all caps) give me the tentacles please and thank you (end all caps)

magical sex worker who works with a fae who can turn invisible to do some really fun shots for porn and their (censored) OnlyFans

telepath who comes from a species that doesn’t really have orgasms or an equivalent but going down on their partner they (all caps) feel it (end all caps) and they (all caps) very much (end all caps) would like to feel more overstim ahoy

guy calling in sick to work because he just had sex with his merman boyfriend for the first time this morning and he had no idea he was going to lay so many eggs and he can (all caps) kind (end all caps) of move but his shirts don’t fit and he has 0 bladder capacity right now

woman who was fully prepared (and excited!) for her werewolf boyfriend’s knot but the towels she put down were in (all caps) no way (end all caps) sufficient to cover for the aftermath

guy with the most painful hangover bc his vampire boyfriend drank from him during sex last night and it was extremely hot but the venom is wearing off rn and the low is (all caps) really (end all caps) putting the high in perspective

Same boyfriend awkwardly explains to his doctor a year later that he suspects why anaemia has suddenly become an issue and agrees to take supplements and to limit the Kinky biting sex

woman who comes away from kissing with her spider girlfriend at a party and comes away absolutely sticky with silk

mothman who keeps making noises too high pitched for their lover to actually hear but every time they fuck all the neighbourhood dogs start howling

man who has sex with a fertility god several times and was assured that he can’t get pregnant but apparently what (all caps) can (end all caps) happen is that he can spontaneously start lactating between apologies the god is trying not to laugh uproariously

pixie who experimentally sneaks up to try a human’s vibrator which is bigger than they are and comes so hard they pass out

snakewoman fucking her girlfriend and she’s so into it and she’s having a great time and in fact she’s (all caps) so into it (end all caps) … she leaves a seal when she pulls out and her girlfriend is like “what is this” and she’s like,,, oh my god,,, I will die of the embarrassment

man who has sex with his dryad for the first time and they get really into it it’s only afterward he realises the whole room is covered with ivy, bursting with flowers, and that there are roses hanging down from the light fixture he is (all caps) not (end all caps) getting his deposit back

wait wait wait here’s my best one yet werewolf with erectile issues who takes viagra and after twelve hours his knot (all caps) still (end all caps) hasn’t gone down and his boyfriend is like “babe I know it’s embarrassing but we need to call a doctor”

imo sex is funny because it’s messy and ridiculous, kink and fetish even more so, and it’s something that can be so much fun when treated light-heartedly and adding points of silly bits of messiness to monsterfucking (all caps) really (end all caps) has so much comedic potential

okay but merman who has ink sacs and when he comes too hard– him and his egg stuffed boyfriend (all caps) covered (end all caps) in sticky black ink and the boyfriend is like. I want to be angry at you but the idea that you have ink sacs bc there’s something big enough to predate on you terrifies me

(all caps) wait (end all caps) werewolf boyfriend who hasn’t told his boyfriend he’s a werewolf yet and it’s the day before the full moon and he keeps going, oh, maybe, maybe we shouldn’t, oh I have another appointment, I don’t have time– and the boyfriend is (all caps) completely (end all caps) caught out by the knot

vampire who plays into his boyfriend’s kink but he barely feels it even when his boyfriend spanks his arse as hard as he can and the vampire (all caps) three times (end all caps) accidentally breaks the restraints his boyfriend has him in

(all caps) wait wait (end all caps) vampire into painplay and denial whose girlfriend wears pure silver piercings through her nipples and her clit so that He Can’t Touch

/end description]

[canyonmooncreations]

I can’t stop thinking about bratty princess reader x bodyguards 141

Something something your life is ruined now that your father has hired four broody body guards to be with you at all times. They usually rotate shifts, one staying with you at all times.

Sometimes events call for three of them or all of them. So when it’s time for a royal ball and three of them are needed, Simon opts to sit this one out in hopes to avoid the uncomfortable socialization.

After the ball, John stays at the palace with you and Kyle and Johnny join Simon back at their residence. Simon is absolutely baffled when the boys don’t shut up about how bratty you were and the major attitude adjustment you need.

Talking about how you refused to follow directions, even when they were for your safety. Refused to buckle up in the car and struggled so much that Johnny had to hold you down while Kyle buckled you up. Pouting the rest of the way home. Refused to eat dinner at the ball and insisted they stop at a drive through even though that wasn’t on your itinerary. Threatening to get them fired if they don’t take you.

The boys go on and on about your behavior and Simon just listens, dumbfounded.

“What’s that face for Riley? She even worse with you?” Johnny asks with a frustrated tone.

Simon shakes his head. “No attitude for me.”

The boys both start laughing. There’s no way that’s true. You’re truly a spoiled rotten brat, they think. There’s no way that he’s serious.

They never believe him until there’s an event that calls for all four of them. Simon’s with you at the palace while you get ready. The three boys pull up out front ready for you to join.

They watch as you walk nicely to the car and climb into the middle settling in next to Johnny. Simon climbs in after you. The boys are ready for the battle of asking you to buckle up.

“Buckle, princess” Simon grumbles.

“Yes, Mr. Riley.” The car goes silent. Johnny and Kyle look like their eyes are about to pop out of their head. John doesn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed red.

The car ride is silent. The boys are too shocked to say anything. Since when did you have manners and the ability to follow instructions? John drives with a grin on his face. Simon is unphased as you rest your head on his shoulder.

At the event, you are on your best behavior. You eat your food, move when instructed to move, and smile the whole time. The boys are genuinely so shocked at this new side of you. They watch in awe as Simon approaches you and the ever present feisty look is no where to be found.

“Ready to go?” Simon asks softly.

“Can we please stay a little longer?” You ask so kindly. Simon nods and finds his protective position.

“Did she just say please?” Johnny asked exasperated.

“She doesn’t even know what that word means!?!?” Kyle is just as shocked. John just chuckles and shakes his head.

They then watch as minutes pass and you gently tap Simon and tell him you are ready to leave.

When you get to the car, Johnny decides to put this to the test. Simon gets you in the car and closes the door to talk to the event staff before leaving.

“Buckle up sweetheart.” Johnny instructs.

You give him a polite nod and buckle up quickly. John lets out a chuckle and before Johnny can’t say anything before Simon is joining them in the car. “Bloody hell.” is all that is heard as the car falls silent.

On the way home, you lean over the Simon and ask if you could stop for ice cream. He replies with a simple “No, princess” and is met with no reaction from you. A slight nod and your head falls back against his shoulder.

Kyle is about to lose it. You threatening to get them fired if they didn’t take you through the drive through the other day. What the fuck has Simon done to you??

Something something and now it’s the end of the night. Simon has got you settled into bed and walks into the castle living room to review how tonight went with the security team.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Johnny and Kyle stare at him as if he’s accomplished the impossible.

“Told ya, no attitude with me.”

John chuckles and pats Simon on the back as he grins.

A/n: is this dumb?? It’s been eating my brain for a four hour car ride 😭😭

[anamenooneowns]

i think 4,285 notes (at the time i reblog this) says this very much is NAWT dumb

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley becoming obsessed with you after a one night stand. CW : brief mentions of pussy eating, stalking, brief mentions of masturbation and hookups.

You had a great night with the brute you took home from the bar. He could throw you around and manhandle you, not to mention he was hung like a horse and actually knew where the clit was.

But that was that. You exchanged few words the following morning, and he left.

But you wouldn't leave his head. Every night Simon tried replicating your tight cunt with his hand. He remembered your moans and whines under him. How sweet and pathetic you cried.

And then Simon started spiralling. He started trying to find women on porn sites that resembled you, he started going to bars and sleeping with women who resembled you. And yet none of them could replicate what he had felt with you.

Simon got sick of it. He wanted needed you. So, he did the only rational thing.

He stalked you.

Simon ended up finding you easily. You were such an oblivious and stupid girl.

He stalked you for weeks. Until he cornered you in a bar and you recognised him. Taking him to your home once more.

Simon was desperate once you entered your apartment. His big hands pawing at your thighs and ass as he led you back to your bedroom. Your horny brain not taking a second to realise he shouldn't know the way to your bedroom based off of one hookup two months ago.

Simon slobbered at your pussy for almost an hour to make this night last. He wanted to ruin you for anyone else. And judging from your screams he was definitely doing a good job.

The following morning you expected Simon to be gone. But his muscular arms were tight around your waist. Holding you against him.

"Never letting you go again, bird"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[anamenooneowns]

teehee

[diomdes]

me, as i force a dollar bill into the self-checkout machine: thats right…..good boy……vore president washington

[diomdes]

im begging all of you to stop reblogging th is

[stripedturtlenecksweater]

Your actions have consequences

[striving-artist]

something I think we all know about fanfic, but don’t talk about because it would hurt writers feelings is that some fics are like fast food. I mean this as a compliment. I don’t always want to sit down for a six course meal that will be a flavor experience. Sometimes I just wanna dip some fries in a frosty. Sometimes I want something homecooked and delicious and super niche, but super comforting. Sometimes I want to eat an entire dark chocolate cheesecake in one sitting even though I know Its gonna make me sick. Just. holy crap, y’all. Sometimes I don’t even want fast food, I just want to eat an entire bag of chips. and yeah, I’m ashamed of myself afterwards, but at the time it was exactly what I wanted. So, no, we’re never going to say to our fanfic writers that we consider their writing to be the equivalent of a midnight run to taco bell - and we shouldn’t, feelings would be hurt by that. But writers, please, please, please, remember this. You don’t need to create a six course meal if you don’t want to. You don’t have to make something complex and homemade if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to finish cooking it - because someone will be thrilled that you brought a bowl of cookie dough and a spoon, because they cannot even consider sitting down and having a proper meal right now. It’s okay writers, whatever you decided to make. Someone was happy to have it. You gave them what they needed. You made them happy. You did good.

[thou-breath-of-autumns-being]

I don’t know why being fast food would be considered insulting!

A few years ago, I read an essay by a romance writer who openly admitted that her books were trashy, formulaic, and not Great Art. But what she said is that she gets fan letters all the time. From women with six kids whose only time for themselves is reading her books. From women in abusive relationships who read her books to give them hope that loving relationships exist. From women with depression who manage to eke out some pleasure reading her books. From women whose lives are awful and who read her books to give them the strength to live another day.

And– she points out– the writers of Great Art have many virtues, but they do not generally get fan letters from people whose lives are miserable and who seek out comfort and joy from the books. Because most of the time when our lives are awful, we don’t seek out Great Art. We seek out, well, literary fast food. We seek out emotionally manipulative hurt/comfort or fluffy coffeeshop AUs or Mutual Pining where there is Only One Bed.

Be proud of your work! Be proud of making literary fast food. Try to make the best damn literary fast food you can. Because somewhere out there– you might not know who, you might not know when– there might be someone who has just finished their last final, or who got fired from their job, or who is up all night with a newborn, and your fast food fanfic made their lives better. And that is no small thing.

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[anamenooneowns]

ISHHHHH SHOOOO CUTE

[peachesofteal]

He’s so tired of hearing you yap sometimes so he just grabs you by the back of the neck like a dog and shoves your face into the mattress, spits on your asshole and pushes the glob deep with a finger before he stretches that tight ring of muscle around his cock. You’ve never been particularly fond of anal but when you’re barking all day like a bitch and he’s already bred your cunt, it’s the only way to shut you up.

[anamenooneowns]

wow

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[anamenooneowns]

EEEK! LOVELOVELOVE

[dante-mightdie]

something about mean old bastard price and his sweet new assistant who just wants his approval so bad but can never seem to get a positive response from him

your sweet gestures, like using your own money to buy him fancy coffee instead of the generic brand on base are only met with an unappreciative grunt followed with, “fuckin’ waste of money. tastes exactly the same.”

barely looks up at you when you drop folders on his desk, only nudges his empty cup towards you. a silent way of commanding you to make yourself useful

until one day when you catch him shameless checking out your ass in the new skirt you bought, his usual grunting response actually seems to be out of approval for once. doesn’t even acknowledge your eyes watching him as he rakes his own down your legs before adjusting himself in his trousers and going back to his paperwork

[balljointedpup]

Sugar sweet

Pairing: John price x assistant! Reader

Warning: unspecified age gap, 'bratty' reader, brief description of past, implied emotional neglect, mild/tame bits of angst, reader is kinda pathetic but we salute her, AFAB/female! Reader, suggestive content at the end, Mild NSFW at end, brief sexual fantasies (oral - male receiving) , John is pining in his own way

Tag: msil

Apologies. I've never written for Price so please bare with me if he's ooc. This is my firt time posting writing on here 🙏 but I got a spark of courage from some encouragement!I absolutely love this idea and couldn't help but be inspired. Full credit to Dante for the prompt. I just got writing fuel from it.

Was it so wrong to want some praise for your hard work? To want to hear “good job” for once in your life? You did a good job, and you know that. Your salary reflects it, along with a few appreciative pats from others. You often hear murmurs from colleagues who say, “You just work too hard; take a break,” along with their well-meaning concerns. But you liked being busy—helping those who sacrificed so much for everyone else, often with little reward, just paperwork, bruises, and bleeding wounds. Your hands were rough from the grit on your gun grinding against your palms and fingertips.

You were just being grateful. Helpful.

And a helpful little bird you were—always fluttering around Price’s office. This time, you brought him a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel: egg, sausage, and spinach. You left it at his desk to the side so his arm wouldn’t knock it over. Taking a silent breath, you stood there, lingering, hands clasped behind you, as your eyes flitted over the man currently hunched over his desk and the food you had brought.

Another beat passed. Nothing.

He let out a small grunt as he shifted in his seat, giving a small sniff as he continued to drag his eyes along each word, scratching a few out with a thick black Sharpie. His thick brows were pinched tight, creasing his forehead—a look you were all too familiar with when it came to Price. It always made him look older, though the air he gave off already did that just fine, making the wrinkles forming around his eyes and on his forehead more prominent. He squinted at the words as if each one were an offense.

“I thought you’d like something to eat; I haven’t seen you have anything for a few hours, so—” you gestured to the bagel, a smile curled on your lips. The tinted lip balm gave them a pleasant shine and a healthy hue, and a faint taste of strawberries lingered on your tongue from when you had licked your lips, nerves tight in your core before entering his office.

And once again—nothing.

He only vaguely acknowledged it, barely glancing before he reached for the coffee and took a sip. A small gruff sound escaped him as the warmth pooled down his throat.

You faltered, but your smile remained brave in the face of his stoic behavior. “Well, I’ll leave you be,” you said, the words coming out cheery in your desperate attempt to not sound as awkward as you felt.

You shuffled toward the door after a few more seconds of waiting. Maybe, just maybe-

“Love?”

Instantly, you whipped around, chest puffing out as your heels squeaked against the floor. “Yes, sir?”

“Blue suits you.”

Your face twisted as you paused, about to ask what he meant. Looking down at yourself, you saw a crisp white blouse snugly tucked into a black pencil skirt—one that was smaller than you had anticipated. You had noticed it seemed to draw his attention more often than not, so the purchase didn’t seem to be all for nothing. There was only a single hint of blue on you, except for your—

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you let out a sharp gasp. Immediately, you twisted around to see that the skirt had ridden up, revealing the edge of your baby blue panties stretched across your backside. The lace trim was exposed for all to see. Hastily, you pushed down the fabric of your skirt, adjusting it to sit better on your hips. Smoothing it down was when you saw it: his eyes finally lifted from the paper, a steaming mug pressed to his lips. A pleased crinkle appeared in his eye as he took in everything.

You had never left his office faster. Your face was too warm—much too warm. Before you knew it, you were stumbling into the bathroom, splashing water onto your face to cool down. Lifting your head to stare at your reflection, you cursed. Your mascara had smudged, streaking down your cheeks as if you had cried. The light, natural shade of your eyeshadow was now splotchy and smeared around your eyes. You pressed your lips together in a tight purse, scolding yourself for your forgetfulness.

Yanking rough tissues from the dispenser, you dabbed at your face, trying to salvage what makeup remained.

Standing amid the dim lighting of the bathroom, you couldn’t help but stare. What were you doing? A woman your age prancing around in short skirts and makeup? Sure, you had always been inclined to doll yourself up, but it had usually been a treat—something to anticipate after a rough week. Now, it felt like a routine, ensuring you had a pretty glow and your best features enhanced. When did you become so desperate for such minimal attention?

Perhaps it was when your father always hummed in stiff, dry tones whenever you spoke. Or when your mother would glance up from her phone, scrolling while you tried to show her something you were proud of, only for her to finally respond to something you had said five sentences ago.

Maybe it was when you did your best at everything—school work, getting a job as soon as possible, and even landing an office position mere months after finishing your education. Always made sure the house is clean and never ask your parents for help, despite feeling sickly and overwhelmed. Always doing your very best to remain as pleasant as possible and chase any spontaneous kiss to your head and word of approval from either of them. But the majority of the time, it was nothing. After all, you were expected to do well. So independent and mature at such a young age. How well they must have raised you to be so self-sufficient. They would praise so highly to their friends. Expected to have a good job and a happy air to you.

After all, you were so lucky. They were people having it worse than you. Why would you ever feel so low you wanted to quit everything and grovel in your bed?

Or it could have started when friends would always have an excuse to decline your plans or something last minute came up. Dates always having you carry the conversation after having to endure hours of dry texting and inconsistent messages.

A nagging need to just hear one satisfied hum. To feel a ruffle to your hair or a firm pat on your shoulder. The sweet euphoria of hearing a pleased “Good girl”. You craved it like how a chef always twitched to snag a cigarette between their lips. An itch you could never scratch no matter how many times you self-affirmed with loving post-stick notes on your bedroom mirror and muttered endless approval to yourself for the most simple of things.

You huffed as you shook your head. Why bother with such a man like Price? The only time he seemed to even bat an eye in your direction was when you flashed your legs or your shirt hugged your breasts too tight. You were mere meat and he was a hungry dog. A frown grew on your lips as you patted your cheeks. Glaring at your reflection as you fixed yourself up and pushed out of the bathroom.

It started with your wardrobe; wearing trousers that looked smart enough for your job but gave your shape no compliments. Its rigid seams even making your hips look boxier and your legs shorter as you trade your polished heels for simple flats. Your blouses no longer hugged the curve of your chest. And if you wanted the relief skirts gave then it was unshapely skirts – pleated or plain and sleek – that ended half way down to your calf.

And then it was the coffee. It tasted the same? Then why bother with saving an extra palmful of cash for the fancy brand. You served it in John’s signature mug with the same beaming smile and didn’t waste your time to linger. To wait for any response. Bustling down the halls with files tucked to your chest. With the extra cash now staying in your pockets you treated yourself to paying for a nice cake or an overpriced coffee of your own that gave you that needed rush for the busy day.

Head held high as you gave up your pursuit. You were always such a independent girl.

And Price? Well, as soon as he tasted the bland blend of coffee he frowned. Lips smacking as the familiar graininess of the bases blend hit his tongue. His head lifting but you were already gone. Huffing like a bull every time he drank from it. In the end, it went cold half drunk and staining the white mug.

And your clothes; what happened to his pretty bird? Sure, your beauty wasn’t easy to conceal and the lack of powder to your face didn’t change the natural charm of your features. But he had to hide his scowl of disapproval as he saw you were in another long skirt. It was flowy and dull. Those pretty legs hidden from his view. His hand digging against the scratch of his facial hair as he glared at the skirt. Half tempted to make a house call and strip every offending cloth out of your wardrobe. His jaw twitching as it clenched tight.

That smile. That sickly sweet smile you always flashed his way. He wondered if you’d smile like that to him after he’s lodged his cock from your bruised throat, cum and spit smearing on those perfect lips. Glossier than any lip balm or lip gloss you insisted to wear. A breathy ‘thank you, sir’ spilling out with tears making those insistent eyes of yours sparkle. He almost thought he went crazy when he couldn’t feel your expectant gaze boring into his skull.

He was much too old to be entertaining a sweet thing like you. Always making sure his boots were polished, his office tidied when he was gone for too many weeks, adding sticky notes to files and color coding each one to make sure they were in perfect order. Treating him to good coffee and pleasant meals. It took everything in him to keep himself glued to his paperwork when you came in and was so kind. So needy. You didn’t need a grump like him. A man with too many burdens on his sunken shoulders and blood staining more than his hands.

He tried to dismiss your quirks by giving it no attention. Mutters of disapproval whenever you spent money on him. But it just made you more keen. Trying again and again to get him to say something. To look at you but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. But now he was finally getting what he wanted? He couldn’t help but swallow each bitter grain of his efforts.

His day was long. His team giving him their usual shit but it was giving him a bigger headache than ever. Any bark of demand towards him had his hand clenching in a tight fist behind his back. Most of his paperwork had fallen to you and this time, it was his turn to come into your little space, knocking on the door with a coffee much too sugary for any of his teeth to withstand.

There you were, cramped in your chair with a flood of paperwork looming high to your shoulder. He cleared his throat and you snapped your head up, perking in surprise at his appearance. Wide doe eyes blinking at him as didn’t stop at your desk. No, he pressed a big calloused hand to the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the peek of skin between your hair and your shirt collar. Pressing the coffee down as he looked down to see how much you’ve done. His breath warm against your ear making your whole body turn to stone.

“atta girl. That’s it, love.” John murmured as he gave the back of your neck a small squeeze and stood back up. Leaving you gawking at the door as he left just like that. The warmth of his hand lingering on your skin. A blood that was meant to go to your cheeks oozed down, pouring between your legs as your sex throbbed at the simple praise.

It didn't take long, no, It only took the next day for you to be back in those little pencil skirts and a new blouse that embraced your figure nicely. Heels on your feet signaling your arrival as you leave a fresh mug of coffee on his desk and a small pile of files. All colored and checked, sticky notes paper clipped to each.

One file slipped from the stack making you bend down and scramble it back into your hands giving John a beautiful eyeful of those baby blue panties hugging your ass and a small chub of your sex teasing him as it peered between your thighs. A pleased growl, deep from his chest rumbling out as he took the file from your hand.

“good girl.”

[anamenooneowns]

🙌🏽

[balljointedpup]

Rundown

Babysitter reader accidentally falling asleep in Price’s bed only to wake up to a big man crawling up behind her and shoving her legs apart while murmuring his wife’s name :\\ too bad she can’t correct him because the pillow keeps muffling her screams. - prompt by ceilidho

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes (reader doesn't verbally agree to sex but has wanted to fuck John secretly), somno kink, dirty talk, drunk! Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, p in v sex, no protection, John's a nasty dog, Price is sloshed and can barely hold off his orgasm

Did i write this instead of sleeping? Yes. Do I have regrets? Many. I just couldn't stop thinking about this and knew I had to atleast try my hand.

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated! This may be edited when I am no longer sleep deprived

You've been babysitting for the price family for almost a month now. A small bundle of joy surprisingly docile in your arms after the wailinig for the baby boy would have cradled in her embrace. You hated the glare Colleen would snap your way as soon as her son shushed. You weren't sure why, at first you chalked it up to coincidence. Just the baby being well- a baby. But then you let yourself linger in her presence and found yourself curling away from the sting in your nostrils from the strength of her perfume. A lovely brand you had no way to afford, truely she was a woman to envy. Even in her years she's aged like wine; Rosé to be exact. She was primped and refined. A polished diamond with every sharp edge pointed in your direction. The many necklaces she adorned on her neck were chunky and sparkled with real gems that surely John has gifted to her over their marriage. Though, it made an uncomfortable resting spot for the babe.

But little James had much to protest about the way his mother's nails were too long and dug into his soft skin. To cry and scream when her perfume was just too much. When her makeup smeared against his chubby cheek and the new texture roused him into another fit. Only soothed once back in the arms clad in soft cardigans and sweaters, the smell of gentle floral soap and smooth skin against his own.

You've heard Colleen before bark at John to find a new sitter making small comments about how her baby clearly hates her. How neither of the men in her life seem to want her presence always resulting in a heavy sigh from John, firm words of curt comfort but she'd just bare her teeth and curl her painted lips. Not taking his words as anything more than another spew of thoughtless support. Not stopping her cries of woe until John has enough and grit words of defence through his grinding teeth.

You tried not to listen in; it wasn't your business after all but you couldn't help but feel pity. Some days it was for Colleen, clearly stressed and trying to latch onto something she can't quite grasp. But other days you felt a deep pity for John; peering in with little James bouncing in your hold as he sat at the dining room table with his head in his hands. Shoulders sagging down with the weight of the world digging into them.

Poor little James having to hear all this. Often, you tried to keep him distracted with the jingle of your keys or read out of a storybook to drown out their thunderous voices.

There's been a time Johns found you like that, huddled up by the crib shushing and slowly rocking the baby to sleep. A storybook in your lap and a relieved slumped as you stare at James' sleeping face. And so, to avoid waking up his son, he'd get close to your ear, ruffling your hair and giving your shoulder a firm squeeze as he muttered, 'Good girl. Such a sweet girl for keeping him happy' and 'sorry you had to hear all that, love' as he insisted on slipping you another small stack of pound notes for the extra stress. No matter how many times you've tried to decline.

Just as many times you've tried to convince yourself you didn't touch yourself that night because of his words. You definitely didn't imagine him mumbling sweet nothing's of how good you are, so perfect and sweet for him. He was a married man, for God's sake!

A soon-to-be divorced one if things continued to persist the way they were.

You didn't dare let these feelings show; for fear of losing your job and the possible disdain that would cloud over his aged features that you'd have the audacity to think of him that way. Unable to bring yourself to even consider baring the thought of his disapproval. It was too much. It made your stomach twist in ways stressful university exams never did.

-- -- --

RIIIIING

You rose from your afternoon nap, a startled sound ripped from your throat. textbook and laptop discarded clumsily at the table. The sofa creaking as you pulled yourself up, eyes squinting as you tried to find your phone in the darkness. Eyes already aching from staring at your laptop screen for hours even when it grew dark. Took engrossed in finishing your assignment to care that you were in pitch black. Only napping to soothe the sting.

You plucked your phone from the floor and saw it was Colleen calling you. Your eyes widened as you hastily answered. "Mrs Price! Is everything okay?"

"I need you to come over as soon as possible, Im already running late to meet with the girls and I need someone to watch James."

Your brows pinched in confusion. Checking the time and saw it was 10 o'clock. Surely there had to be someone more local.

"where's John-?"

"being useless as always, drinking and leaving me to do all his shit for him."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your skull; sure you've heard her be nasty but this was the first time you've ever heard her be so brazen with her dislike for her husband. Her voice oozing with venomous spit as each word punched out from her throat.

You thought it would be for the best not to say anything. Swallowing what words of defence you had for John, you slid off your couch. "I'll- uh- I'll be on my way."

You slipped on your shoes and your warmest coat, thankful your keys already sat in its pocket. You rushed out of your door, having to cycle your way over. Usually you'd catch the bus and then cycle the rest of the way but night buses weren't running where you needed to go.

Never have you peddled so quickly. Your legs were on fire by the time you arrived and Colleen was hissing at you as she scurried out the door for how late you were making her. Muttering the whole time she got in her car and was driving off into the night. You stumbled into the house and immediately went upstairs to check on James and thankfully he was still sleeping.

Hours you spent waiting for John to return home or even Collen. Anyone to bid you off so you could go back home and sink into the plush of your bed. Sleeping on the sofa and then all that peddling has strung your body until you were nothing but knots. Sitting down almost the entire time as your legs protested to any further usage.

You only went into the bedroom to grab the spare baby monitor to check if it was still working, but you got nosey. Peeking around and finding colleens vanity, staring at the unflattering reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your clothes were screwed on your body. You could smell your sweat and it wasn't even hot. With great hesitance, you picked and sniffed at the collection of perfume that sat there. All were much too strong for your tastes until you found a bottle tucked into the very corner. It looked like it hadn't been touched for a while, not even half empty, but it wasn't old. The brand's logo was chipped at the edges, and the bottle was sealed the wrong way. You couldn't resist giving it a small sniff and were pleasantly surprised to find such a kind smell. It was vanilla and rose water; with a small bit to your lip and against all your better judgment. You sprayed a shy spritz on your neck and dabbed it into either side. Already feeling like a grander woman.

But your curiosity died as the king-sized bed seemed to be calling your name. Sheets are neatly folded, and pillows are fluffed. With James back asleep after some fuss and a diaper change you slinked into the covers with mumbled apologies.

Sleep claiming you faster than you ever expected, slumped heavily against the mattress as your nose was filled with John's scent. A heady mix of both his natural order and the shampoo he used. Your nose sinking into the pillow even in your dreams as you inhaled deeply. Happy hums filling the empty room before soft snores took their place.

-- -- --

John on the other hand was not so lovingly dozed off. He wasn't partying with friends and running his mouth about all his stresses. No he was haggard as he just barely pulled himself away from the sticky counter. The bartender muttering something along the lines of him getting back to the misses.

His misses.

He was nothing but a stubborn bastard. That was his ring on her finger and he couldn't swallow the uncomfortable bitter pill that was his reality. He's been finding his ring 'mistakenly' left on the bathroom counter. She was already bringing up divorce whenever he glared at her a second too long.

He couldn't have it. What kind of man would he be if he stood by and let her go prancing off. That was his wife. His.

His fist hit the counter with a determined sneer and he shoved himself away. Wobbling for a moment before he was able to muster his legs into a familiar march. His footsteps were unsteady but persistent in their journey. The bar was within walking distance and what was a little fresh air to help sober him up so he can face his woman how he should. Steel in his composure and fire burning in his eyes as he was going to-

To-

Fuck. There are so many things he's been wanting to do. It's been too long. Much too long without being in between her legs. The heat of a welcoming cunt was now foreign as he had to rub himself with the rough callouses of his hand. No amount of spit could replace the heavenly slick of a woman's arousal. Didn't sound the same when he fucked his fist. Didn't smell the same. Didn't feel the same.

She was truly a cruel woman. He could withstand her sneers and moaning, but to deprive him of the luxury of a husband was the devil's work. His own personal torment after so many years of bloodshed and muddled honors.

Perhaps if that walk was as sobering as he told himself it was, he would have noticed the car that was missing. The bike parked in its place. The tranquil quite of his home shattered, 2 am in the morning, as he heaved himself through the door and winced at the thud of the door. Pausing to hear any cries of his son or the pissed off yell of disappointment but he was met with nothing.

He lumbered through his house after kicking off his boots. His coat was thrown somewhere in the darkness as he crept up the stairs and shuffled into his bedroom. There, he saw the lump of a figure in his bed, and his brain clicked into gear. Licking his dry lips, he dusted his hands off his jeans, already undoing his belt as he stepped out of the fabric as soon as it pooled down to his ankles. Crawling onto the bed as he stared at the sleeping miss in his bed, eyes beyond blurred and too blinded by his determination, maybe he would have noticed the obvious differences between you and his wife.

He presses sloppy open mouth kisses to your shoulder. "Col- Colly, He slurred out as each kiss grew higher and higher. The untrimmed scruff of his mutton chops scratching against your cheek ear as he babbled in gruff murmurs. "Wake up, honey."

But he had no patience for his 'wife' to rise from her slumber. Your stirring only egged him on as he caged your slumbering body in with hands on either side of your shoulders. Moving the blanket down to reveal your covered form. He huffed in disapproval. "Tuckered out? Didn't even undress." He scolded but there was no heat to his words as he began to undo the buttons of your jeans and eased them down your legs. Shifting your shirt as high as he could before grunting as your unconscious form was no help.

"this why..you need me." His chest pressed heavily down onto your back as his large hands wandered along your curves. Pinching at the chub he didn't remember Colleen having but it's been so long he just dismissed it. "Keep ya nice and warm."

John couldn't wait any longer. Pushing your underwear to the side and his fingers curled against the fabric as he rutted against your silky folds through the fabric of his briefs. Like a dog in heat his hips grinded hard against your sex. His nose burying in your neck as he huffed the smell of perfume - he got her that for their anniversary. He knew she was still missing him. All that bullshit of insisting she'd never wear one of his gifts again. Throwing out jewelry that was now deemed tacky, all because he bought it, and clothes she just shunned as old news.

With a growl he yanked his boxers down as he grabbed his already half hard cock. Rubbing it through your glistening sex, already so wet for him. Perfect little wife. He didn't take long for him to chub to full mass as he huffed at the floral scent on your neck. "Gonna fix it- gonna fix everything-"

As soon as his cock pressed into your entrance you were startled awake. The sudden sting making your eyes pry open. Your breathing hitched as you heard John's voice mumbling something into your skin as you opened your mouth but he just shushed you. "None of that. Don't start, just need you tonight." He presses his hips frimer to your ass as the fat head of his cock speared your cunt. He groaned deeply with a curse knocked out of him. "So fucking tight-"

Your cheeks burned as you tried to squirm away from the blistering heat of your poor fluttering walls being pried apart by his sheer girth. Gasping into the pillow. With a huff John yanked you further down with a sharp tug on your underwear, his free hand pressing down on the back of your neck to keep you nice and arched. Any words you tried to squeak out immediately muffled.

"that's it, just open up for me, Coll." He cooed, the stretch of alcohol thick on his breath as he squeezed your neck. Feeling the way your pussy betrayed you, crying all over his big dick as you heard each grunt and groan rattle in your ears. Just able to hear it over the sound of your own heart thumping so loudly you thought for a moment it lodged itself into your skull. "Atta girl."

As soon as your ass was flush to his pelvis you let out a whimper. Clutching at the bedding your eyes squeezed shut. The pain faded into a dull numbness before the tug of a vein rubbing against your walls had you softly moaning. So full. You could barely breathe with how far it was pressed to your stomach. Surely shoving your organs up and lodging them into your throat. A knot tight in it as your eyes fluttered open.

Unable a moment to breathe as he guided you back onto his cock with every thrust that sent you jolting forward. The stitches of your underwear screamed as he set his pace. sloppy but reaching deep within. Kissing your cervix with each thrust as you trembled. Blinking you didn't even notice the tears that poured down your heated cheeks as you kept shaking your head. Any attempt of protest cut off by your own traitorous moan.

Fuck it feels good. Why must if feel so good. You've imagined what his cock would feel like but you never imagined this. Never thought you'd actually be feel it drill into your poor cunt as you sniffled and sobbed.

John could barely restrain himself. When did her pussy ever feel this good? So tight and clamping down on his cock as if it were the first time. Has it really been so long that her body became as foreign to him as it he was to her. That made his teeth grit as he panted. "Shit- gonna- fuuck-"

He didn't need to say if for you to know. Your stomach clenched as your thighs tried to squeeze tight together like that would stop anything. Not with his thick thighs spreading your legs wide and welcoming for him. "J-John-" you hiccuped.

Voice so strained it became high pitched. Needy. It made his head spin or maybe that was just the alcohol catching up to him. Groaning deep from within his chest as he flooded your tight hole with hot ropes of cum. Rolling his hips lazily with each squirt. "Sorry...been too long-" he kissed your shoulder and your cheek. "You feel like heaven, love."

But John was never a selfish lover. He let go of your underwear as he remained snugly slotted into your warmth. Relishing in its slick heat. Thick fingers finding your clit with startling ease as he rubbed in circles. Fast and his rhythm broken but with how your clit was already throbbing needily it didn't deter your body from singing out. Hands clawing at the pillow your face was buried against as you bucked into the friction. Shaking your head as you tried to fight off how good it felt.

Whines spilling out of you as you chanted pleas and curses but it all fell on deaf ears. "Ohh- oh!" You pulsed around him as your own orgasm tightened in your lower belly. No matter how much you tried to deter it, John was insistent of your pleasure.

"c'mon on, Coll, make a mess on my cock." He cooed as he pressed more of his weight down into your back to keep you from squirming too much. "Know you miss it."

You cried out as it crashed over you. Stars filling your already blurry vision as stray droplets of tears fell down. The cover of the pillow damp with your tears and specks of drool you desperately tried to swallow down.

Both of you just laying there for awhile. You were stiff as a rock and he was slowly rolling his hips. Fucking his cum deeper into you with more kisses to your sticky skin. His hand weaving up to your hair as he tugged your head from the pillow. Blinking sluggishly as he expected to be greeted with the face of his wife but instead he was met with his babysitter. Cheeks streaked with tears and your lips parted with a small gloss of drool. Sniffling as your eyes latched to his dumb stare. Just looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you're not my wife."

[anamenooneowns]

RHRRHEHEHRRHRHRREHEEHRHRRRRRR IM FERAL

[bloodibambiidoll]

𓉸ྀི ✞ Weird Girl!Reader Masterlist 𓉸ྀི ✞

You can find all things Rafe Cameron x his weird girl here! You’re just so beautiful and soft but there’s just something a little off about you. You’re a little odd. You’re always asking Rafe super weird borderline morbid questions out of nowhere. You’re a bit of in enigma in the way that you’re so soft and girlie in some ways yet so dark and gloomy in others. Even though you drive Rafe borderline insane sometimes ultimately he thinks all your quirks are adorable and if anything it just makes him love you more. You always make him feel accepted, his flaws and all.

Blurbs/one shots જ⁀➴.

✰ How they met

✰ Rafe getting jealous of Jj

✰ Their first time

✰ That’s My Weird Girl Part 2

✰ The first time she meets his friends

✰ Can I take a picture?

✰ Can I have your heart?

✰ Weird!Girl loves having Rafe’s cock in her mouth

✰ Why can’t you be normal?

✰ Pathetic Little Pet

✰ Aftercare

✰ Lazy Sunday

✰ Casual dominance

✰ Weird!Girl asks Rafe for a threesome

✰ Rafe fucks Weird!Girl in the woods

✰ Weird!girl gets her tongue pierced she finally blows him after

✰ Weird!girl surprises Rafe with a bunny but plug

✰ The proposal

✰ Weird!girl goes off on Hollis

✰ Weird!girl uses her safe word

✰ Another girl copies weird!girl for Rafe’s attention

Concepts જ⁀➴.

✰ Weird!Girl headcanons

✰ Weird Girl!Reader’s bedroom

✰ Blood kink

✰ Weird!Girl’s Camera Roll

✰ Rafe’s Camera Roll

✰ Rafe’s insta stories

✰ Weird!Girl asks for Rafe’s wisdom teeth

✰ Weird!girl collects vintage MLPs

✰ Rafe and Weird!Girl Moodboard Part 2

✰ Weird!girl moodboard Part 2

✰ A week of weird!Girl outfits

✰ Weird!girl’s make up

✰ Calico critter friend

✰ Rafe & Weird!girl on Halloween

[anamenooneowns]

if you guys love this serious or the fics, i srsly recommended (please, please, PLEASE) support the author by reblogging! (follow ofc too) but reblog!

[bloodibambiidoll]

𓉸ྀི ✞ Weird Girl!Reader Masterlist 𓉸ྀི ✞

You can find all things Rafe Cameron x his weird girl here! You’re just so beautiful and soft but there’s just something a little off about you. You’re a little odd. You’re always asking Rafe super weird borderline morbid questions out of nowhere. You’re a bit of in enigma in the way that you’re so soft and girlie in some ways yet so dark and gloomy in others. Even though you drive Rafe borderline insane sometimes ultimately he thinks all your quirks are adorable and if anything it just makes him love you more. You always make him feel accepted, his flaws and all.

Blurbs/one shots જ⁀➴.

✰ How they met

✰ Rafe getting jealous of Jj

✰ Their first time

✰ That’s My Weird Girl Part 2

✰ The first time she meets his friends

✰ Can I take a picture?

✰ Can I have your heart?

✰ Weird!Girl loves having Rafe’s cock in her mouth

✰ Why can’t you be normal?

✰ Pathetic Little Pet

✰ Aftercare

✰ Lazy Sunday

✰ Casual dominance

✰ Weird!Girl asks Rafe for a threesome

✰ Rafe fucks Weird!Girl in the woods

✰ Weird!girl gets her tongue pierced she finally blows him after

✰ Weird!girl surprises Rafe with a bunny but plug

✰ The proposal

✰ Weird!girl goes off on Hollis

✰ Weird!girl uses her safe word

✰ Another girl copies weird!girl for Rafe’s attention

Concepts જ⁀➴.

✰ Weird!Girl headcanons

✰ Weird Girl!Reader’s bedroom

✰ Blood kink

✰ Weird!Girl’s Camera Roll

✰ Rafe’s Camera Roll

✰ Rafe’s insta stories

✰ Weird!Girl asks for Rafe’s wisdom teeth

✰ Weird!girl collects vintage MLPs

✰ Rafe and Weird!Girl Moodboard Part 2

✰ Weird!girl moodboard Part 2

✰ A week of weird!Girl outfits

✰ Weird!girl’s make up

✰ Calico critter friend

✰ Rafe & Weird!girl on Halloween

[bloodibambiidoll]

love love love the rafe cameron x weirdgirl!reader au!! imagine reader at the country club overhearing some mean boys making fun of her and how rafe is crazy to date someone like her :(( she stays in her room after hearing this and rafe catches her biting herself and crying (she normally bites him but after hearing this she feels like she can’t) oh my heart-

No bc this is like sooo perfect. This is literally so her. I’ve been having a lot of fun coming up with lore for her so I’m so glad you’re liking her so far!! Warnings: (I’d like to note that weird girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic), Reader gets her feelings hurt, protective Rafe, biting 18+MNDI!! Part of this AU

“Yeah dude, she’s like so hot until she opens her mouth.” Your footsteps come to a sudden halt, your shiny black Mary Jane’s squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the country club. There’s a group of guys about your age standing around the corner in a circle all snickering to each other.

“No, yeah, like she says the fucking weirdest shit in that creepy little monotone voice. I have no idea how Rafe puts up with it.”

“The pussy must be out of this world or some shit because I would never be able to handle that. I saw her last week on the beach collecting animal bones or some shit bro. Bet she went back to check on her kill.” The entire group starts busting up laughing just as you feel hot tears start to stream down your cheeks. You just want to leave but they are blocking the only path to the door so you suck it up and high tail it as fast as you past them.

You were waiting for Rafe to be done with his game of golf but after that? You really didn’t want to bother him with wanting to leave early so you decided to just walk the mile and a half home. If you were lucky maybe you’d run into the neighborhood cat you befriended and he would walk part of the way with you.

When you get home you rush up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. Your head is swimming with negative thoughts. You were always scared you were too weird for Rafe, too much, too different from him. So when you hear guys he hangs around saying things like that about you? It’s hard to not let it get to your head.

You kick off your shoes and practically tear off the cute outfit you spent over an hour putting together. You grab your pink fuzzy robe, and walk over to your bunny’s cage, smiling down at her with watery eyes.

“I think you’re the only one that really understands me, Lydia.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you pick her up and walk over to your bed. You rock back and forth slightly as you caress her fur, trying to self soothe. You’re realizing in this moment that maybe you really are too much for Rafe because you hardly remember how to calm yourself down without him.

You wish so badly that he was here. You know he would hold you tight and let you sink your teeth into him until your tears stopped flowing. It seems to be one of the only things that truly calms you down so you decide to bring your own hand up to your mouth and bite down on it. It soothes you a little, but it isn’t Rafe. He’s called you a few times but you just let it ring, he’s probably worried, but you’re too embarrassed to pick up.

“Baby? Are you here?” The minute you hear Rafe’s voice you want to run to him, but the words of the boys at the country club playing in your head on repeat in your head cements you in place. “Bats?”

When he opens your bedroom door and takes in the sight of you his heart sinks.

“Baby girl, what’s going on? What happened? Where did you go? You scared the shit outta me.” He rushes over to you, coming to sit next to you on your bed. He rests his large hands on your calves and rubs soothing circles on your skin with the pads of his thumbs. You whimper and shake your head, your mouth still latched onto your hand. “Batty, you’ve gotta talk to me, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” You pull your hand away from your face, resting it on Lydia’s back as you pet her softly, the feeling of her fur grounding you. “I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard Jake and those guys… talking about me.”

“What about you?” Rafe’s voice takes on a protective tone, especially when another fit of sobs erupts through you. He hooks his arms under you so he can pull you and your bunny softly into his lap. “Princess. Tell me what they said.”

“They said - they said that they don’t know how you put up with me because I’m so weird and that you’re probably only with me because the pussy is good.” You sniffle as your tears continue to fall and if Rafe didn’t know you needed him right now he would be on his way back to the club to beat all of their asses until they couldn’t walk.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that.” He cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears. “You know I love you, all your weird shit and all. I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, I fuckin’ love your weird little ass.”

“They also… they also said that - that I probably kill animals…” You start sobbing again and Rafe’s entire body tenses. He knows how much you love animals, how important they are to you. He wants to fucking rip their throats out.

“Princess… I’m so sorry they said that. They just don’t know you, aight? You’d never harm a fly. Don’t let that shit get to you. I know it’s hard, but fuck em, they don’t know fuckin’ shit about my baby.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he wipes away some of your remaining tears. His hand swipes past your lips and you turn your head slightly to sink your teeth into it. He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “There’s my weird girl.”