#deer!reader

[softaestluv]

Simon helps deer!reader through her heat.

Tags | 18+, MDNI, heat, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, longer than it was supposed to be, crying, lots of it

2.5k words | Masterlist | Johnny | Kyle | John

It’s hot.

And not in the way that happens during the summer heat, when you bask in the sun with globs of sweat coating your neck and chest, a popsicle pressed to your lips.

You stripped bare long ago, threw the thick duvet onto your floor before you even attempted to sleep.

Everything aches, like you need to claw at the seams holding your limbs together to find any sense of relief. Unravel your threads haphazardly to release all the nerves pulsing under your skin. Nothing’s enough. Your attempts are futile, nothing assuages the heat— if you can even call it that.

A heat that’s brutal, ruthless in its demand. Scalding painfully in your core because it’s empty— because you’re empty.

Your face is pressed to your sheets, ass in the air, restlessly pushing deeper into the mattress just to turn to your cheek, smothering the sides of your face in agony. Sweaty and drenched between your legs, an embarrassing amount of slick dripping down your thighs.

Your whimpers are muffled against the cotton fabric, but Simon’s never been a deep sleeper to begin with. The noises are quiet, frail, but they’re torn from your chest like it hurts. Broken and weak sobs.

It does hurt, biology forcing you through something cruel. Insistent in its need.

All you can think about is the four men you owe a debt to. Shame radiates through your chest like a fire, even more tears welling in your lashes because it’s wrong. Betraying their trust by thinking of them in such a filthy way, pussy clenching as you imagine them burying their cocks in you. Fuck your ache away.

Simon stands at the doorway of your room, looming in the dark, clinging to the shadows like an apparition, stalking its prey. He watches your fingers, delving between the swollen folds of your pussy. Your movements are messy and amateur, swiping against the bulb of your clit like that might appease the throbbing in your womb.

It doesn’t. Never had any real glimmer of hope that your fingers would. They never do.

It’s been several months since John caught you stealing their crops, but Simon’s never seen you like this. You don’t even notice when he walks into your room, too preoccupied with sliding your small fingers into your cunt. He’s certain he’s never even heard you touch yourself the entire time— he’s been listening, waiting.

An innocent thing.

The only time your poor pussy’s been touched was when John punished you for stealing the other farmers' fruit or when one of the four perverted men you’ve found yourself in the grasp of has cupped it in passing.

Maybe they should’ve prepared you for this, shouldn’t have teased you for so long. Maybe then it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.

“Doin’ it wrong.” His voice is loud in comparison to the squelching of your pussy.

It sends chills down your back, sweaty spine straightening out as you sit back on your heels, peering at him over your shoulder. Your cheeks shine through the moonlight, wet and glistening with tears, pupils dilated so wide there’s only a thin ring of iris.

“Simon.” It’s barely a whisper.

Your breaths falter as he approaches, eyes glued to his every movement, dropping to the waistband of his sweats, mapping out the shape of his cock like you can taste it on your gums. An unfamiliar desire painted across your face.

That’s when he realizes, their poor doe is in heat. Too timid to climb into one of their beds, couldn’t muster the courage to ask them for help.

He stops at your side, staring down at you. “Why didn’t you ge’ John.”

He says it so casually, like he didn’t just find you with your fingers in your cunt. You want John, you want him, but you didn’t trust yourself enough to walk down the hall without slipping to your knees and begging for anyone to come and take you.

“I’m- I’m okay.” It’s a lie and you both know it. If you were okay your eyes wouldn’t flutter, lips pinched tight to conceal the whimper you make when he brushes your jaw with his thumb. “Didn’t want to bother.”

“I’ll go ge’ John.”

You look at him like he ripped your heart out, eyes glassy. “No! No, please don’t leave me.”

You know you shouldn’t beg him to stay, but just the sight of him has your deer keening, pussy clenching around nothing. One of your mates here to fuck you dumb.

“He’ll be upset.”

“So will Johnny.”

That makes his lips quirk, cupping the back of your neck. “Too bad I found you first.”

Prey and predator.

Deer and wolf.

You nod, the best you can in his hold, fidgeting your knees as you agree pathetically. Some deep primal part of you purring alive at the notion. Your deer chanting something sick and twisted— Yes! You found me! Capture me and take me as yours!

And Simon just can’t leave such a sweet thing in distress can he? He deserves to indulge in his find.

He leans close to your face, breathes fanning across your cheeks, makes all the air his. Your mind spins even more at the proximity, inhaling the warm air he breathes like a drug.

“Tell me where it hurts, sweet’eart.”

He runs his free hand down your chest, watches you arch into his fingers like his touch sparks a livewire against your skin.

“Here?” He brushes a thumb over your nipple, tilts his head with mock sympathy, gaze focused on your face.

You stare up at him with big doe eyes, lashes clumped together from your tears, hanging on to every word he says like you might fall from his grasp. It’s hard not to be predatory when you look like that, innocent and fragile, so easy to break. It’s why they kept you around for so long.

He knows they’re sore, he had them between his teeth hours ago, your smaller body squirming in his lap while he made you ride his thigh.

The noise you make after is pitiful, held ironclad between your pinched lip. He trails lower, eyes still on you, fingers at your nape, forcing you to look back instead of watching his hand descend your body.

“Here?” He cups your pussy, palm engulfing the entirety.

Your hand flies over your mouth, attempting to strangle your gasp silent. The slight touch already shooting waves of pleasure straight up your core.

“Tell me, fawn. D’ya need me to make you feel better?” He finishes his statement by rolling his palm against your clit.

You jolt forward, almost knocking into his forehead. “Fuck- yeah. Yes, Simon.”

A lapse in judgment makes him think he should get John, someone a little softer than him for your first time. Someone who doesn’t have you dangling from the string tethered to his palm. Someone who’ll be a little sweeter than him, more akin to a bear than a wolf. Though, he supposes both eat deer for dinner.

None of it matters, not when you follow the silence with such a sweet plea. And how can any sane man resist that? He thinks he’ll be selfish this time, sink his teeth into your tender meat until you bleed. He’ll deal with the consequences later, John will thank him for stretching you out, keeping you nice and warm for him.

“Look who found their voice.”

His lips crash onto yours, a little too much teeth, a little too much grit. Sucks the remaining breath straight out of your lungs, leaves you with nothing but a craving for more. Mind reeling, world tilting as everything becomes hazy.

He likes it like that, when you put your dependency in his palm. Looking at him like you don’t know what will happen next, a life raft he might tear from under your feet and leave you to drown.

He never does though, always lets you come back for air just to pull you under again in one full swoop.

One finger slides into your cunt and the face you make is worth it all; brows tight, lips parting in shock. There’s no resistance, tender walls taking his digit to the hilt, but he can’t help thinking that if it wasn’t for the obscene amount of slick rushing out of your walls it wouldn’t be as easy.

Any thought you can muster is short-wired, repeatedly tripping on fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck. One finger already feels so much better, thick knuckle scraping against the ridges of your pussy that you can’t seem to reach. Thick, deft fingers that you’ve stared at in passing, fleeting glances that made your belly swoop. Pit of your stomach burning alive whenever he would touch you, legs sticky in his presence.

And now he’s got his mouth on yours, grip on your neck, fingers in your pussy—mind pooling in your skull when one digit becomes two. The second one makes you moan against Simon’s teeth, eyes widening at the sudden stretch.

Still, your hips betray you, grinding against the palm of his hand as you try to push away in the same breath. It’s everything you need and too much at the same time. The stretch makes your deer kneel in satisfaction, but rut for more, more, more.

It takes him less than two strokes to find the tender spot in your pussy, only three to have you toeing the brink. You stagger forward, dainty hands wrapping around his bicep, clawing into his skin until it turns pink when the rough pads of his fingers work at your engorged clit.

Your first orgasm comes embarrassingly quick, burying your face against his arm as the pleasure lasts less than seconds. It lacks any relief or reward, your body still thrumming with need, demanding something more.

Your second orgasm lasts longer, slightly so, but the persistent ache remains. Like an entity that refuses to let go until you feed it what it wants. It makes you sob, wrecking tears against his arm because it’s not enough despite how deeply you wished it was.

You push at his arm weakly, looking a teary mess, stuttering over your words. “Si-Simon. I can’t. I can’t— ‘s not working.”

You think it’s the first time he’s looked at you with sympathy or maybe it’s mirth. You’re not entirely sure at this point because all you need is his cock and you don’t know how to ask.

You’re lucky he knows, lucky that he has just a smidge of decency left in his heart to give it to you without making you ask. He moves you faster than you can think, his cock slapping against your belly when he forces his way between your thighs.

When you see it, thick and curved, precum smeared on the tip, you think it’ll solve all your problems.

He fists the base, leaning over to leer in your face. “This what ya need?”

He slides his cock between your drenched folds, pumps himself against them a few times.

Yeah— yeah, that’s what you need.

“Use your words, baby.”

The sound you make tears through your lips, a whine, a broken cry, fisting the sheets under you with an intensity that’ll shred them. Baby. It plays on repeat in your head, echoing.

Baby, baby, his cock— his cock slowly pulling away when you don’t answer. Your legs snap around him before he can, frantically pawing at his chest because he’s not leaving you leaking and needy now.

“Yes, yes, Simon. Need it, need you, please” you’re rambling at this point, words spilling from your lips deliriously; you need it more than he physically knows.

Maybe he does; he doesn’t make you wait a second longer. The bulb of his head pushes through your walls and you think your deer bleats with happiness, warm, and fat, and curved, and so fucking perfect.

You arch so high your back leaves the bed, toes pointed so straight your feet cramp, breath stuck in your throat as he slides his length into you. The stretch is agonizing, excruciating. It fucking hurts, drawing more tears to your already damp eyelids, but you fucking love it, stuffed so full your deer can’t think.

God, it’s a tight fit, he can barely push deeper in when your lips form an ‘O’, when you clench so tightly around him he can feel the blood pulsing through the head of his cock.

“Tight fuckin’ fit.” It’s gritted through his teeth; he’s sure you don’t even register it.

Not when he drives forward and he feels your walls convulse around him. Head thrown back, whites of your eyes visible. A blubbering mess when he starts to rock his hips, hiccuping as he grazes your cervix.

You drag your nails down his arms when he really starts at it. Two rough hands at your hips keep you from squirming away, used as leverage to keep slamming you back down on his cock.

Simon watches your pussy with hungry eyes, your walls clinging to him with each new drag, keeping him nice and tucked in your gummy walls, right at home. He’s not sure if the sound of your hips meeting or the moans spilling through your lips are louder, but his fingers find your mouth anyway.

He pushes through your swollen lips, knocks your teeth open, and places his middle and index fingers on your tongue. It’s warm, the whole of it, and he can’t help imagining what it would feel like if it were his cock quieting you instead.

You look at him confused, brows creasing in the middle. That’s something you do with Johnny when he’s got all your fruit in his hold.

He pushes down on your tongue just hard enough to make sure you feel it. “Don’t wan’ wake John up, do we?”

You shake your head. His teeth glimmer in the dark. “He’ll be real disappointed if he sees you like this.”

You whine around his fingers something pathetic. He just smiles. “See you all messy an’ needy.”

Your pussy tremors around his cock, tears spilling down your temples as he continues to fuck into you, knuckles knocking against your teeth with each thrust.

Your third orgasm comes with the head of his cock bullying the tender spot in your pussy and his fingers in your mouth. It lasts for more than you can even remember, body stiffening, breath trapped in your chest as it washes over your body for the first time that night. The fire in the pit of your stomach finally flickering dull.

“That’s wha’ ya needed huh, doe?”

Your head lolls in agreement. Yeah, that’s what you needed.

He fucks you until you become soft in his arms, until he’s just fucking his cum back into you over and over again, until your eyes become lidded and you fall asleep wrapped around his cock.

[sweetpianoxoxo]

I love the idea of small-town brown bear shifter John Price and a new resident spotted doe reader who is a horticultural technician and now runs the plant nursery on the outskirts of town.

Thinking about how, customary to bear courtship rituals, Price would stalk around the Doe, make sure she was safe, (without her knowledge of course) he would scent the trees surrounding her workplace, and when he found out they lived in the same neighborhood? Her whole property smelt strong of bear.

Of course, stupidly, he didn't consider how terrifying that would be for a Doe. Predator and Prey dynamics in hybrids weren't as strong as it might be in nature, but that didn't mean an overwhelming bear scent following her everywhere wasn't terrifying.

The deer had come to this town for a reprieve. She lived in the city where it was bustling, and there was nowhere for her to graze or two into any instincts. She didn't even know any other deer in the city she lived in, just birds, dogs, cats, rodents, etcetera. She just wanted to be a deer in peace.

She would think that this bear was trying to run her out of town. She didnt know why, just terrified of running into this bear face to face.

Johns attempts of courtship weren't working, and now he was just interested. He started asking every cervidae creature in town. What were the courtship rituals for a deer? What was customary for her?

Almost everything he was told either crossed over with what he was already doing or had to do with antlers. He doesn't have antlers. What does he do?

And so he took the human approach. He spent two or so days prepping his backyard to house a variety of fruits and veggies. He generally wasnt a fan, but deer were so he may as well be prepared. Once he had a garden made, he took his truck down to her nursery.

He waited down the road for almost an hour for her shop to open, but he could smell her, putting around in the actual greenhouse. When the time hit '10', he began driving into the property.

A bell jingled as he opened the door, and he was met with the smell of his deer, and also the most exquiste, earthy, sweet smells from all the flowers and fruits. Nobody was behind the counter, and John took the opportunity to look around.

"Ill be out in a minute!"

He saw daylilies, pansies, violets, morning glory, grapes, lettuce, spinach. All flowers and fruits and veggies deers liked. There were some other plants he didnt know the names of, lots, actually.

When the doe finally came to the counter, she tensed, and her smelt went sour. "Please i just want to live here in peace." The adrenaline pouring off her body almost made Price want her more.

"Relax, sweet'art. Not trynna run you out of town. Quite the opposite, actually." He took a cautious step forward, with his hands up for effect. "Smelt your sweet scent as soon as you entered town." Maybe it was still just her fear waring to shock, or maybe she was starting to understand the situation.

When a male meets their mate, they can smell them, and other males can sense the difference, but the frmales dont. They can't scent a male until the male nips their scent glands. This was something eugenics produced over years of women dying before breeding age due to an overwhelming amount of scents or alphas trying to claim them.

(This is not to say females can't smell a male generally, just not as deep and harsh. For example, doe can tell that there's a strong bear following her, she doesn't know he's her mate)

The deer started to become antsy, nervously shaking her fingers and swaying from side to side. "Come on now, dearie," the irony wasn't lost of Price either as he stepped even closer to the counter. "I know you start cleaning up at 6. I'll be coming back then, and we can have a nice dinner at Joanie's and talk about our situation."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't an invitation. It was firm command. She'd be taken out on a date by her grizzly bear mate, whether she wanted to or not.

Edit: PART TWO

[moo-stlyhere]

something something deer!reader in heat, bear!price doing something about it

i originally wasn’t going to post this bc it was just supposed to be practice for writing smut but what the hell why not. this wasn’t even supposed to be a cod fic at first so take it with a grain of salt

2.1k words

afab reader, pinv, fingering, dubcon??? (sort of kind of. just heat stuff), unprotected sex, slight mention of reader getting pregnant but nothing serious

As the weather cooled down when late fall approached, the 141 was completely split in energy levels. The bite in the air made Gaz, Soap, and Simon more alert. They were the top hybrids to be sent out to do field work with their heightened senses and increased prey drive, thriving in the chilly wind and occasional spit of snow.

And then there was you and Price. The others had fluffed up to accommodate for the cool air, but they had nothing on you two. Your ears were much fuzzier, and a new line of brown fur now stretched down your spine to meet your poofy tail. It wasn’t enough to keep you perfectly warm, so you were often found curled up under a blanket or wearing a thick jacket as you went about your job.

As for Price? He gained so much extra fur and some fat. Hibernation season was approaching, and it showed. He ate like nothing could ever fill him up, getting extra chub on his tummy and arms. The hair on his chest and arms thickened, morphing into the warm fur that covered his little bear ears. His back also had a nice dusting of the fur, making him look like a fuzzy, walking teddy bear.

Hibernation season also meant that Price was slowing down. He was being sent out into the field less and sleeping a hell of a lot more. The lack of movement meant that he was being extra grumpy and territorial. Another soldier walked too close to his team and they earned a warning growl. Simon and Gaz started to butt heads again and they each got a heavy paw to the back of the neck, claws pressing into their skin to tell them to knock it off.

Out of everything, though, Price was most territorial about you. A change in seasons meant a change in pheromones, and your captain could practically taste the vulnerability in yours. Everyone else saw it, too. You were more flighty, stomping and huffing at everything that startled you. You became so standoffish that not even Soap would try to aggravate you. He had a feeling that one of those stomps to his toes would break something.

Price saw something else, though. When it got dark and the temperatures plummeted even more, you would always seek out the big bear. It started with you making idle chitchat in his office, but once he noticed how you kept prancing around to keep from shivering, Price was quick to let you crawl into his lap and steal enough body heat to relax. It became a routine for you to bury yourself in the fluff of his hide and doze off every night.

There was something different about tonight, though. You came in to the office more agitated than usual. With flicking ears and a twitchy tail, you took too long wandering around and letting out quiet huffs for Price’s liking. You got a grunted growl in warning before he grabbed your arm and tugged you into his lap. His warm nose pressed into your neck to catch your scent like always, but you stiffened this time instead of relaxing.

Confused, Price let out a steady stream of chuffs as he sniffed all around your neck and shoulders, trying to find the spot that would get you to melt into his hold. He thought he had found it, feeling the rapid flicking of your tail slow for a second as he breathed in just below your jaw. A sickly sweet scent flooded his nostrils, making spit gather in his mouth that he had to swallow. Without thinking much of it, Price flattened his tongue against your skin and licked at the source. And then you squealed.

A legitimate, high pitched squeal echoed throughout the room. Price flung his head back and stared at you wide-eyed, having never heard such a noise from you before. “The fuck was that?” He grumbled. One good look at you had him softening his demeanor, regarding your flushed skin and swiveled back ears with a curious look. “Doe, are you feeling alright?”

He brought his hand up to rake the hair out of your face, pausing to scratch his claws behind your ear. A shiver and a soft bleat came from you in response to the contact, and you felt so guilty when Price just raised an eyebrow at you. You thought you could handle it, thought you could control yourself because you weren’t deep into it yet. “It’s November,” you muttered, like that bit of information would explain everything.

Price at least nodded even if he didn’t understand. The taste of your sweet scent was still on his tongue, so he savored it as much as he could. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in scenting. Then again, it wasn’t often you let anyone near your scent glands. He was slowly connecting the dots, but one more press of his nose to your neck was all it took for him to finally get it.

You tensed up again, feeling him prod around while a hum built low in his throat. When he had his fill, he stopped and sighed. “Shoulda looked at your medical files a little better,” he commented as he leaned back enough to look in your eyes. “…Estrus?”

“I’m fine,” you told him. It was just the beginning of it, and you wouldn’t be out of commission for at least a few more days. All you really needed right now was a little extra attention and love to soothe your sensitive skin and mind.

“Mhm,” Price hummed, clearly not buying it. “So your tail is wagging and you’ve got those big ears perked up at me because you’re ‘fine’? And your scent just happened to morph into a goddamn bakeshop overnight? Hmm?”

You opened your mouth to protest and assure Price that you really weren’t feeling any different, but a tug to your tail shut it with a whine. You could feel his chest rise and fall against you in a chuckle as you went pliant, a rush of endorphins and instincts telling you to do whatever you could to get that to happen again.

“You’re being mean,” you managed to get out. He kept petting the underside of your tail, sending little zings of arousal up your spine and down your legs. He was teasing you, and he knew it. The bear had done his research, figuring something like this would happen, and knew that prey hybrids did better during heats and ruts with a bit of teasing. It only made you whinier. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, I know you can’t,” Price rumbled as he stood, hands planted firmly under your thighs to hoist you up with him. That nose was right back on your neck, this time licking and nipping as he carried you out of his office. “I’m being a big, mean bear, aren’t I? Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure to play nice with ya.”

When you were tossed down into your nest of blankets sitting atop your bed in your private quarters, you were nearly gone. Neck slick with Price’s saliva and scent already amping up, you couldn’t do much but squirm around and make petulant huffing noises. Not to worry, though. Price was quick to lay down beside you and sling a heavy arm over your waist to keep you still.

It worked good enough for a short while. The extra weight of hibernation made Price big enough to keep you pinned while he trailed languid kisses over your shoulders and up to your jaw. His own scent became stronger and deeper as he worked himself up with yours. When you felt his canines, pointed and sharp in the way only a predator’s teeth could be, press against your ear and give a taunting bite, you wriggled and writhed like you were trying to get away and flip onto your stomach.

“Patience,” Price growled, gripping onto your thigh and tugging your leg back to sling over his. His hips ground against yours, pressing the hard outline of his bulge into your ass. As much as he would have loved to waste no time and sink straight into your sweet cunt, Price knew you couldn’t handle it. His little doe would surely break under the force of such a big bear.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya now,” he mumbled as he thumbed at the waistband of your pants. The way your thighs strained to part even further was as much of a yes as he needed to shove his hand farther down and run a thick finger through your folds. “Absolutely soaked,” Price groaned. “Little deer is just begging to be bred with all this fucking slick, aren’t you?”

Middle finger curled deep inside you and thumb drawing slow circles around your clit, you couldn’t help mewing and scratching at his arm for more because while it felt good, it just wasn’t enough. Your hips bucked in an attempt to get a little more pressure, to draw Price in just a touch deeper. What a wild thing you were, thrashing and tossing your leg like you were attempting to stomp and get your way.

He kept going until you were properly frustrated, free hand wrapped under you and groping your tits to keep you as still as possible. When you had broken through the little whimpers and gasps wracking your body to plead for Price to please just fuck you already, body and limbs back to being soft and pliable, he finally relented. His hand now slick with your essence withdrew to press pruned fingers persistently to your lips. You took them in and swirled your tongue around each digit, suckling until he was satisfied.

It was so slow how Price flipped you over. Heavy paws positioned you with your ass in the air and chest planted firm against the blankets, arms trapped underneath you as he pressed on the middle of your back to force you to present. Not that you needed to be forced. You even threw him a sweet little look over your shoulder, eyelashes batting and lips parted as you panted. Being in position always excited you beyond belief, but the anticipation and waiting for your mate to finally do something was torturous. All you could do was listen to the teeth of Price’s zipper being undone and belt unfastening.

And when he finally mounted you, Price was lazy about it. He was running on such low energy he couldn’t bother with giving it to you quick and rough. Instead, he missed your entrance several times, the hot head of his cock slipping against your puffy clit with each slide. He was able to bully his way in eventually, groaning loudly at just how perfectly tight your walls squeezed around him.

“Fuck, it’s been a few heat cycles for you, hasn’t it?” He puffed out as he leaned over. The pudge of his stomach squished on your back and made a delicious suction that had you feeling completely trapped under him. It was hard to not feel trapped when a huge bear was laying on top of you and shallowly nudging his cock further into your cunt. “Damn prey hybrids… Too fucking small for this… no way you could carry my cubs.”

All the noises that tried to squeeze out of your throat were wheezed and tight. The sheer weight of Price combined with the taps of his dick on your cervix knocked the air right out of your lungs. It left you feeling lightheaded and spacey as drool pooled on the blankets under your chin. The lack of airflow had you clamping down onto Price, trying to claw at the blankets in excitement when you felt his hips stutter and heard his grunts turn into long groans.

He didn’t try to stave off his orgasm. Hell, it was impossible to when you were making such pretty squeaking noises and he could feel the flutter of your tail against his fuzzy tummy. With one last, half-assed thrust, Price spilled his cum into your womb with a deep growl, the milky white starting to ooze out as his knot started to swell.

And when you weren’t satisfied with just one round, whining out and pretty much crawling on top of Price for more, who was he to deny you? The poor guy fell asleep with his knot hitched into your pussy, humping into you even as he dreamed on just to make sure his little doe was stuffed as full as she needed to be.

[callsignpxnguin]

A/N: this is a trope i’ve never done before but i’ve been seeing so much of it that i’ve enjoyed that i’ve decided to try out a tiny drabble — main inspiration from @softaestluv so if anyone enjoys this PLEASE check her out she has like a horde of the most delicious rambles

Deer!reader who finds yourself on a dark porch in the middle of the night — covered in blood from the wound that ripped into the soft flesh of your hind leg.

You’d whine and tremble and whimper in terror, blood seeping into the floorboards of the seemingly abandoned cottage, but the forest was empty — and the wolf that stalked you was fast approaching.

No, not approaching.

There.

Frozen like a deer in headlights was a cruel and ironic way to describe the way you felt when your gaze locked on its glinting eyes, peeking out from the inky mist in front of you. It were as if all your muscles had locked up, preventing you from fleeing, undoubtedly readying themselves for your ultimate demise.

Your whines cut off abruptly, your vocal chords refusing to work.

The wolf took a step forward. Taunting. The light of the moon gleaming on its silver-white coat, and revealing it’s muzzle stained with a deep, gory maroon.

Another step. And another.

And then it was running.

This was it. This was the end.

You curled up into a ball, whimpering, sobbing, bleating — praying for something to come and save you from the fate that stared you in the face.

So when a pair of thick, rough hands wrapped around your torso and hauled you inside, you didn’t make a single move of protest.

There was a bang — some shouts, and a loud growling sound. But it was muffled. Blocked by something — and you quickly realised that you were no longer outside, and held by something that felt much bigger than any man.

”What have we got here, hmm?”

His voice was deep — velvety and soothing in a way that calmed you immensely despite the throbbing that still plagued your leg. You offered a small bleat, still too shaken up to form words.

“A pretty wee thing you are, eh?” Another voice — different and accented, but no less pleasing, added. “Think I want to keep this one.”

“Oh, yeah. No doubt about that.” One more voice. Three, in total, you managed to work out.

You blinked rapidly, soft doe eyes struggling to make out faces in the bleak half-light. You shifted weakly, turning to face the area that the voices came from.

And the last thing that filled your mind was the image of three rugged, hairy faces staring at you — before unconsciousness overcame you and you went fully limp in the bearded one’s arms.

[riddlesrizzler]

Slytherin boys x deer! reader

Mattheo Riddle 

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn't someone you were meant to end up with. People whispered his name like a warning. Fights followed him like a shadow. Professors tread carefully around him-not out of respect, but fear. So when he started watching you-quiet, delicate, soft-you became the question no one could answer.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t notice you at first. Not really. You sat in the back, took notes with your head down, flinched when doors slammed. Too quiet. Too soft. Too unimportant for someone like him-until he saw you shift in the forest one evening. That’s when something in him stopped cold.

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn’t gentle. He didn’t know how to be gentle. But the way you moved-hesitant, nervous, like even your footsteps apologized-made him freeze in a way no hex ever had. He didn’t approach. Just stared. You didn’t run. Just stared back. That was the start.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t court you. He loomed near you in class. Stood at your table during meals without explanation. Sat beside you in the library and flipped through books he didn’t care about, just to be near the quiet of your presence. He was like a wolf who had no idea how to speak deer.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t ask you out. He simply appeared one day and said, “Walk with me.” No smirk. No arrogance. Just a demand coated in curiosity. He didn’t know why he wanted you near him-only that when you were, the noise in his head dulled.

Mattheo with a deer!reader hated the way you made him pause. He was used to instant rage, instant movement, instant chaos. But your softness slowed him. The first time you reached for his hand, it startled him more than a curse ever had. You didn’t flinch. You trusted him-and that scared him more than anything.

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t protect you with hexes or threats-not at first. He watched. Studied. Waited. And when someone made you cry with a careless joke, he didn’t retaliate in public. He waited until the hallway was empty and left that person sobbing on the floor, whispering, “Don’t ever speak her name again.”

Mattheo with a deer!reader didn’t change overnight. He still lashed out. Still exploded in the common room. Still vanished for days when things got too loud in his head. But you were the only person he came back for. You were the one thing he didn’t want to destroy.

Mattheo with a deer!reader never called you fragile like it was a flaw. He called you untouched. Wild. Soft in a way this world didn’t deserve. “You don’t belong here,” he said once. “And that’s exactly why I can’t stay away from you.”

Mattheo with a deer!reader wasn’t sweet. Wasn’t tender. But he remembered how you liked honey in your tea and that you hated loud rooms. He never told you he was proud when you raised your voice in class for the first time-but he didn’t stop thinking about it for days.

Theodore Nott

Theodore with a deer!reader is all about quiet understanding. He doesn’t fill silence-he lets it settle gently between you, unbothered. When you’re anxious or skittish, he doesn’t push. He just waits, his calm presence grounding you like moss underfoot.

Theodore with a deer!reader is constantly observing. He notices how your ears twitch before a noise even happens, how your fingers fidget when you’re nervous, and how you calm when the wind rustles the trees. He doesn’t say much about it-just quietly adjusts the world around you to make it softer.

Theodore with a deer!reader brings you wildflowers without saying a word. He leaves them on your windowsill or tucks them gently behind your ear with a barely-there smile. He likes the way your cheeks flush when he does.

Theodore with a deer!reader reads in the gardens with you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he murmurs lines from Italian poetry-his accent warm and low, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat. He thinks you look like something out of a dream when the sun filters through the leaves.

Theodore with a deer!reader is fascinated by your Animagus form. He won’t say much the first time he sees it, just kneels beside you and strokes your neck with the kind of reverence most reserve for cathedrals. Later, when you shift back, he simply says, “Bellissima,” like it’s fact.

Theodore with a deer!reader often touches you gently and intentionally-his fingers trailing down your arm to remind you he’s there when you startle, or his hand brushing yours when you're overwhelmed. He never rushes you. He matches your pace instinctively.

Theodore with a deer!reader is endlessly patient. You trip over your own feet often, and every time, he simply catches you with steady hands and an amused hum. “Clumsy little cerbiatta,” he’ll say softly.

Theodore with a deer!reader has a habit of leaving little notes in your coat pockets-sketched leaves, pressed petals, or a short phrase in Italian you have to ask him to translate. He likes watching you try to guess what they mean before he whispers it into your ear.

Theodore with a deer!reader prefers slow, moonlit walks through the woods where he can listen to you talk about things you love-your favorite tree, the quiet stream you nap beside, the way moss feels under your hooves. You’re the only person he opens up to like this.

Theodore with a deer!reader never calls attention to your softness like it’s a weakness. He sees it as a strength-the way you care, the way you listen, the way you love without force. He’s quiet, but he shows you daily how deeply you’re cherished.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo with a deer!reader is completely thrown off when he first notices you-soft, sweet, always hiding behind books or trees like you're part of the scenery. He’s used to confident girls hanging off his arm, but there’s something about your shyness that absolutely wrecks him in the best way.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader immediately starts teasing you once he realizes you get flustered easily. “Careful, Doe” he purrs every time you trip, “wouldn’t want you falling right into my arms-again.”

Lorenzo with a deer!reader starts calling you nicknames like "little legs,” “sweet doe,” and "forest fairy,” just to see how pink your cheeks can get. The fact that you get too flustered to answer only makes him grin wider.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader makes it his mission to get you to laugh. He’ll show up in the middle of the greenhouse pretending to be lost, dramatically narrating his “journey through the enchanted woods” until you’re giggling behind your hands.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader secretly melts when you trust him enough to let him sit with you outside. You’ll be tucked into the tall grass, blinking up at the sky, and he’ll lean back beside you-less teasing now, quieter-because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader nearly faints the first time he sees your Animagus form. “No way,” he mutters, stunned, staring like you just walked out of a fairytale. “You’re a real-life baby deer? This is the cutest thing that’s ever happened to me. I'm in so much trouble.”

Lorenzo with a deer!reader who’s clumsy gets gently teased all the time. He’ll catch you stumbling and say, “You trying to fall for me again, love?” while definitely hiding how fast his heart is racing because he lives for being your personal safety net.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader pretends he’s still a player to everyone else, but they all know the truth-he's constantly carrying a spare sweater for you, has your favorite tea memorized, and disappears into the woods every weekend just to be near you.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader jokes around like, “Bet you’ve got the entire forest wrapped around your hoof, huh?” but the truth is he’s the one hopelessly enchanted. He’ll flirt shamelessly, but never crosses a line-your innocence is something he fiercely respects.

Lorenzo with a deer!reader eventually becomes very protective-though he masks it with jokes. “Whoever makes my sweet forest princess cry is getting hexed. I don’t care if it’s a first year or a centaur. Try me.”

Draco Malfoy

Draco with a deer!reader didn’t like you at first-not really. You were too soft-spoken, too gentle, always apologizing when someone bumped into you in the corridor like you were the inconvenience. He saw your softness as weakness, and weakness was something he was taught to despise.

Draco with a deer!reader scoffed the first time he saw you tending to a wounded bird behind the Herbology greenhouses, whispering kind words like they might mend broken wings. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning on his heel-though he didn’t stop watching from the corner of his eye.

Draco with a deer!reader found you infuriatingly unbothered by his usual cruelty. You didn’t glare, didn’t snap back-you just blinked at him, wide-eyed and confused, like a startled fawn. It unnerved him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Draco with a deer!reader was annoyed when he learned you were an Animagus. “A deer?” he sneered. “Of course. Fragile and useless.” But when he accidentally came across you in the Forbidden Forest one evening, antlers backlit by the moon, trembling but peaceful-he froze. You looked like something straight out of a dream he wasn’t allowed to have.

Draco with a deer!reader started paying more attention after that. Watching the way you preferred the company of trees over people, how you flinched at raised voices but smiled at sunrises. It bothered him-why did he care?

Draco with a deer!reader found himself oddly protective. When someone mocked your nervous stutter in class, he hexed them before he even realized his wand was out. “They were annoying me,” he lied, avoiding your eyes.

Draco with a deer!reader began testing you, throwing snide remarks your way just to see if you'd finally crack-but you never did. Instead, you’d look at him softly and say things like, “I hope your day gets better,” and he’d feel something split quietly in his chest.

Draco with a deer!reader was the first to catch you when you tripped-always too fast for someone else to react. “Watch it,” he’d mutter, holding you longer than necessary. “You really are helpless, aren’t you?” But his voice had lost its edge.

Draco with a deer!reader started joining you on quiet walk-never asking, just appearing beside you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he just happened to be there. He’d grumble the whole way but always walked at your pace.

Draco with a deer!reader never admitted out loud that he fell in love with your softness. But the way he softened around you-the way his voice lowered, the way he stopped correcting your nervous rambling, the way he called you “doe eyes” under his breath-said everything.

Blaise Zabini

Blaise with a deer!reader didn’t meet you in a corridor or common room-he met you in the forest. He was wandering alone, clearing his head, when he saw you in your Animagus form. A deer, poised and glowing under the trees. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. And then you were gone.

Blaise with a deer!reader kept returning after that. At first by accident. Then on purpose. And every time, you were there-either as yourself or your Animagus, tucked into the quiet like you belonged to the forest. You never spoke much. Neither did he. You didn’t need to.

Blaise with a deer!reader would sit beside you on fallen logs or in patches of moss, just close enough that you might brush against each other if one of you shifted. The silence was never awkward-it was peaceful. Shared. Sacred.

Blaise with a deer!reader learned your rhythms without asking. How your fingers trembled around your quill. How you always looked toward the windows during class, longing for the woods. How your steps were hesitant but your heart was so open.

Blaise with a deer!reader never asked why you were drawn to the forest. But he started leaving little signs behind: a scarf draped on the branch you leaned against, a copy of a book you’d mentioned wanting to read tucked behind a tree. You always found them. He never said a word.

Blaise with a deer!reader doesn’t tease you like Lorenzo or challenge you like Draco. He just sees you. His gaze always lingers a second too long, quiet and reverent, like you’re something rare and fragile that the world doesn’t deserve.

Blaise with a deer!reader sometimes watches you in Animagus form from afar, his expression unreadable. But one day you shifted back, blinking at him through the trees, and he murmured, “Beautiful either way.” You were too stunned to reply. He didn’t need you to.

Blaise with a deer!reader speaks more with small gestures-offering his hand when you’re struggling with your balance, brushing a leaf from your hair without a word, always placing himself on the side of you that faces open spaces, as if shielding you from the world.

Blaise with a deer!reader has his own quiet, mysterious presence. You never pry. You just sit together in stillness, understanding each other in ways that go beyond words. He finds comfort in your softness; you find safety in his silence.

Blaise with a deer!reader doesn’t confess with a speech. He just reaches for your hand one evening under a sky full of stars, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a promise. “You calm me,” he says quietly. And that’s all either of you need to know.

[mooniesmoochies]

jon snow and deer!reader headcannons bc why not!

warnings: fluff, nsfw content. yall think jon snow eats it through the panties?

if it were anyone else, she’s as quiet as a mouse. but when she’s with him, those lips do not stop moving for a second. i guess it comes with her being more comfortable and feeling safer around him, but that girl can talk. most importantly she liked talking to him.

and he listened, very well. it could be in the middle of the night, and he’d sit and listen to whatever it was that she talked about as he got them both ready for bed. a little grunt of acknowledgement here and there, occasionally breaking down or further expanding on something she was curious about. whether it be something new sam taught her, or simply babbling nonsense, he listens, always. and never made her feel bad about talking too much.

the first few weeks after he found her, she did not leave his side. if he was at his desk reading letters and signing things off, she was perched right next to him. everywhere he went, she went. she’d live in his skin if she could do that.

she had a habit of watching him sleep, especially after his resurrection. it gave her some sort of comfort, in a way. knowing that he was still there, breathing, where she could feel him, it eased a lot of her anxiety.

she’s actually so sweet and friendly when you meet her. once she got a little more comfortable in her surroundings and started to actually talk to other people without him by her side, she was a delight!

his personal healer. he had a cut? she took care of it. he was in pain? she found a way to fix it and make it all better. and it worked everytime.

you can always tell she spends all her time with him, because she started picking up on all of his mannerisms, especially his facial expressions. every scowl she made had jon written all over it. you hear her say the most outrageous thing ever? she most likely was repeating what she heard him say.

whatever he says goes. and she doesn’t question it, she goes right along with it. “jon said i can’t do that”. “jonny said im not supposed to talk to you.” “wait, why don’t we like him?”

since she has a true talent for embroidery, she was the one stitching his clothes most of the time. she’d find any rips and tears, or holes and spends her time repairing them so they were all brand new.

she likes to argue, a lot. and they argued over literally anything. if she folded his clothes one way and he went and folded it another way, boom another argument. one of rare times you really see her being anything other than sweet and shy. never lasts long though, cause when he actually started to get angry all it took was a look and she shut the ass right on up.

very curious about his…body, their bodies. forgive her, these were the first times in her life that she was seeing somebody other than her self naked. they’ll take a bath together and she’d sit there and stare at the large muscles of his arm and compare how big it was to hers. or she’d stare at his chest and compare his chest to hers. or when they laid together, she’d point to his different scars and ask how he got each of them.

nsfw-ish

pussy slaps.

she was a maiden when they first met…enough said.

surprisingly enough, they don’t have sex a lot. they only ever have sex when she initiates it. every intimate moment they shared was on her terms. while he may be the dominate one in every aspect of their relationship, he always listens to her, and values her comfort and wishes. so if she wasn’t in the mood to have sex, they won’t have sex. he’d be completely fine not having sex if she wasn’t comfortable with it, he was just glad to be with her.

see, pre death jon would be a little on the fence about being rough in the bed. this was a man who barely knew a thing about women as it is, so he would do what he thought was safest. slow, gentle, constantly watching her face and her body to see if she were hurting or uncomfortable, the man just wanted to make you feel good.

now post death jon….👅👅👅👅. that man knew how to lay it down. the most elite position was on your back. i’m talking laid out on the bed, the floor, his desk, legs pinned back to your shoulders, his dick hitting you deep. it was his favorite sight, watching his dick fuck you with long, deep strokes, absolutely stretching your already puffy pussy.

in my head, he’s not much of a talker, cause he could show you better than he could tell you. but when he’s caught up in how it feels to have your perfect pussy clenching around his dick…👅👅👅. hand gripping your hair tight, holding your head up and forcing you to watch how you just swallow him up. “look at her, taking me so well.”

mister man was a true eater. from the front, from the back, from the side, that man ate pussy like it was his last meal. moaning like a man starved. and it didn’t matter the occasion. you were upset? lift up that dress. you were sleepy but needed a little extra push to really put you to sleep? say no more, his head was under that nightgown with the quickness. he loved eating pussy!

he knew that body like the back of his hand. he knew what she needed when she needed it. it was like a superpower, sweet baby never went unsatisfied, and never would as long as he was around!

the sweetest aftercare ever. nine times out of ten she was already knocked out before he even got a chance to do anything, but still. sometimes he didn’t stay in bed after, but he made sure you were good before he left. wiped you down real good, made sure your body was covered and warm beneath the furs. he’d leave some water on the nightstand and kissed your forehead, your shoulders, letting them linger before he left you to sleep and slipped out of the room.

other times, when he was feeling extra sentimental, he’d cradle you in his arms, his calloused finger gently traces over the features of your face as you slept. holding you extra tight, like it was his last. his big hand rubbing the softest circles on your back, or gently massaging your legs to help with the stiffness and soreness in the morning.

then he would finally close his eyes as all that adrenaline finally left his body and he’d sleep right with you, the only place he ever wanted to be.

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

was this too freak out? i think i need that though.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … MANCHILD ♡

deer!reader x s1!rafe draft ^_^

rafe wasn’t far off a childish, snot nosed tantrum. not only had his own father cut him off, but he’d been kicked out of tannyhill with nowhere to stay. he was smart enough to know he’d weasel his way back in eventually, but for now he was totally fucked. everything was on the line — but worst of all his reputation. no money and home meant no friends, no parties, no coke. he’d even considered bumming it at barry’s — but everyone got their shit from barry, so they’d see him there, unwashed polo and messy parting. rafe cameron’s homeless era.

he paces the country club, thankful he was still able to walk the grounds atleast, double thankful that his dad wasn’t there on that day. infact, not many people were. good, this is good — he thinks, manically nodding to himself, fingers stimming wildly at his side. the less people, the less questions asked. man could he do with a bag right now.

then he see’s you, perched on a stall by the bar — plush lips wrapped around a curly straw. you’re buried in a book, one of those old looking ones that rafe always secretly wished he could bring himself to read because it would make him look smart, richer. a brown cover with navy writing. so boring, he bets — but you were pretty and he could imagine intelligent. he knew you were nice, because he’d spoken to you a couple of times when he’d seen you here, trying to gauge your vibe, and you’d been polite enough not to tell him to fuck off like the other country club girls would.

“i uh, i know you don’t I?” he approaches, startling you a little with the a abruptness. he put on his most charming smile. he was in survival mode, he needed this… he needed you.

“um…” you clear your throat, and place a lace trimmed book mark between the pages. innocence — it screamed, all the more easy to manipulate you, he assumed, wrongly.

“rafe cameron.” he holds his hand out while cosying himself onto the other stool at your table without an invite. “aaaand, i’m awful… with names, you know so you’re gonna have to remind me…” he charms, squinting one eye. from here, he almost seemed relatable and slightly awkward. you smile. you tell him. what’s the harm?

“y’know i knew that, i totally knew that. look i uh, don’t wanna waste your time, alright— c’n see your busy here reading uh…yeah, reading this.” he cranes his head to glance once more at the long title of your book. you tilt your head, inquisitively, resembling a deer in headlights. “i know we don’t really know eachother… yeah? but if you do me this solid i am more than willing to change that…okay, like seriously — anything you need. you like books, i can see that — i’ll buy you as many as you need, or shit — those uh, those creepy naked baby toy… things you stick on the back of your phone, yeah those. anything.”

you tap almond shaped polkadot print nails on the table, his presence simply gifting you an anxious parcel in the space between your belly and your chest.

“well, can we start by you telling me what it actually is that you want from me?” you tilt your head the other way, the way it wasn’t tilted before, wide unnerving eyes trained on his. you didn’t mean to be so intense, but your curiosity was piqued. hell, rafe even looked a little nervous.

“ah, shit— yeah, my bad. look— you live up on the hill right? your uh— your family purchased that property from my father, right? look, you have a spare room and i— i— need a place, just to crash for like what, two three days. four max. again, i can pay. or buy. or whatever you’d like.”

was he… stupid?

“rafe, my family would ask questions and — and no offence but like you said, i don’t… i don’t really know you…” you avoid his eyes now. it was strange, you knew you held all the power here and yet you couldn’t escape your own natural awkwardness. rafe purses his lips, all red in the face and boyish as he fights back cutting you off, barely waiting for you to finish to say—

“i can get to know you… alright? i need this i — i could lose everything, okay i am asking you as basically a stranger to extend a hand of — of kindness, okay —”

“what about my parents? what would i tell them?” a tiny smile tugs at your lips, which if it were anyone else would infuriate him, but there was nothing smug about your amusement. pure curiosity and bewilderment.

“can— can i talk to them? maybe? i know you are a nice girl, okay— how do i know that? huh— you haven’t told me to go fuck myself yet, so… i am sure there is something we can figure out.

or is it… slow?

you pause for an uncomfortable amount of time. seriously, rafe nearly thinks you’re just giving him the silent treatment and nearly leaves. he shifts on his stool and you speak, eyes on the blurb of your book.

“i don’t… want your money. i work, so i can afford books myself.” images of you in a cute brown apron pouring his coffee flashes his mind. a local barista, he knew this.

rafe leans forward, excited that he’s getting somewhere with this.

“well how about this, i give you enough money so that you don’t have to work for a few weeks…” he offers unnecessarily. you raise an eyebrow— you never said you didn’t like working. you’re interested, though. before you get too excited, he speaks again. “i dont uh, i dont have it right now though okay. you gotta trust me on this, if we’re gonna do this we gotta have trust.”

maybe it’s… useless?

“i never said we were going to do this.” you giggle and rafe leans back, exasperated— running two hands through his floppy, once slicked back hair.

“fuck me. fuck. i’m fucked.” he sighs, staring off at the golf course, giving up on you. ugh, you felt bad for him. he gets up to go, barely glancing at you before you speak up.

“i’ll see what i can do.” you sound more shy now, almost apologetic for not immediately letting a guy you barely know into your home. rafe blinks at you. he looks young, awkward for a moment — lips parted slightly, jaw lax.

“seriously?”

“no promises but, my parents are hospitable people. i’m sure we can work something out.” you brush crumbs off your lap and your eccentric bracelets jingle and clack together. rafe scoffs out a chuckle of disbelief, greasying his already slightly stringy sandy blonde hair by raking through it again. he points at you.

“you’re… ahh.” he squeezes his fist, like he wants to squish your head because he’s just that relieved. “thank you. i’ll make this up to you, yeah? you won’t regret this.”

he basically saunters away, occasionally turning back to offer you a grin. it was… nicer than what you’ve seen of him anyway. you kind of liked the power trip. he might’ve been a man child but it was annoyingly endearing.

[hopelessbrain]

ᵈᵉᵉʳ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ & ᵐᵒᵒˢᵉ!ˢᵃᵐᵐʸ