pedroassmanpascal - Tumblr blog

pedroassmanpascal · 5 months ago

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Used (drabble)

pairing: felix x afab!reader, implied ot8 x reader

genre: filthy smut

wc: 723

warnings: cockwarming, unprotected sex, partner sharing, degradation, praise, LOTS of dirty talk, creampie, breeding kink, reader is called slut

a/n: i'm in a lil writing slump so this is an attempt at getting out of it, enjoy (i guess😭)💕

You were currently lying under your best friend Felix, your legs wrapped around him and his cock buried deep inside your heat. It wasn't the first time he needed the closeness and the comfort and you were happy to be of service, letting him seek your warmth.

You were scrolling on your phone as he almost fell asleep on top of you but then you shifted just a little, making him groan into your neck.

"Y/n." he whined before lifting up and looking at you. You tossed your phone aside and gave him a smirk.

"Spread your legs." his voice was dark and a shiver ran up your spine, doing as you were told.

Felix started to move slowly, fucking your stretched wet pussy, his eyes rolling back at the feeling as he grunted.

You gasped, letting out a string of moans as you clutched onto him.

"Did you cockwarm the other guys like this, hm?" he asked, dragging his cock through your walls.

"Mm, yeah." you whimpered when his tip hit your spot.

"Tell me how you did it." Felix wrapped one hand around your neck, his other squeezing on your breast.

"I- I cockwarmed Hyunjin while he was painting." you started.

"Yeah? Did you let him fuck you?" Felix pinched your nipple, making you whine as he still fucked into you with languid movement.

"Yes. He bended me over his table and fucked me hard." you bit on your lip, your pussy clenching around Felix's length.

"Who else?" he smirked, pulling his cock almost completely out before rocking back into you harder, making you moan.

"C-Chan." you whimpered. "In the studio."

"Mhm." he squeezed your neck a little and you gasped, lifting your middle up to meet his thrusts.

"Did he fuck you good after that?"

"He fucked me so good." you whimpered as Felix gripped your thighs, pushing your knees up to your shoulders.

"And Changbin?"

"I cockwarmed him with my mouth." you confessed and Felix twitched inside you, the image of you kneeling with your mouth stuffed full of Changbin's cock made him weak.

"I bet you liked your little mouth stretched around him, hm?" Felix gripped the flesh on the back of your thighs as he fucked you a little harder, your pussy so warm and wet around him.

"I loved it." you whined, nails digging into the mattress under you.

"What about last night? I heard you and Seungmin." Felix smirked, increasing his speed and making you even more wet, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling up the room.

"He fucked me from behind. I even let him put it in my ass." you whimpered at the memory.

"Damn, you really are just a little slut, aren't you?" Felix groaned, rocking his hips into yours and making you moan as you clenched hard around him.

"I am." you confirmed, biting on your lip.

"Tell me more." Felix demanded, fucking you harder and making your head spin.

"I fucked Jeongin this morning."

"Yeah? Did you ride him like a good girl?"

"I did." you whimpered, so close to release.

"You wanna cum, slut?" Felix grinned, his fingertips grazing your sensitive clit.

"Y-yes, please!" you moaned.

"Cum around me." he ordered, flicking your clit as he kept fucking into you hard.

"Ah, Felix!" you fell apart, exploding around him as he kept fucking you through your high and chasing his own.

"You want my cum, slut?" he panted and you gasped, gripping onto his arms.

"P-please!"

"Fuck, I know you love to be stuffed by all eight of us. Want us to breed this greedy little pussy?" Felix grunted, fucking you so hard that you came around him once again.

"Yes I do!" you cried out and he exploded, ropes od warm cum filling you up.

"Minho told me to stretch you good for him today." Felix breathed hard before pulling out.

"Mm." you whimpered at the emptiness but that was soon replaced by four of his fingers pushing inside your fucked out pussy.

"So, I'm not done with you yet. You're gonna take it like a good slut until Minho comes to fuck you." he smirked at your teary eyes as he continued fucking you hard with his fingers.

You whined, spreading your legs more, happy to be used by all eight of your best friends.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog

#stray kids x reader #skz smut #lee felix smut #ot8 x reader #I wish queue well

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pedroassmanpascal · 5 months ago

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𐙚 Jealous Ateez 𐙚

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst.. but it’s mostly fluff

Hongjoong isn’t the type to make a scene, but he has a way of making his presence known. If someone’s getting too bold with you, he doesn’t interrupt—he simply slides an arm around your waist, presses a slow kiss to your temple, and stares. His eyes flick to the person in front of you, unreadable but sharp, and his fingers drum against your hip like he’s calculating something. Later, when you’re alone, he leans against the doorframe with a smirk. “You looked real cute shutting them down, baby. But next time, don’t make me remind them who you belong to.”

Seonghwa doesn’t get openly jealous—he gets quiet. If someone’s getting too close, he doesn’t argue or glare. Instead, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you in effortlessly, his voice smooth and deliberate. “I think we were in the middle of something, weren’t we, love?” He doesn’t acknowledge the other person, doesn’t need to. The way he tucks you against him, fingers ghosting over your hip, makes it clear—you’re his, and no one else gets a chance. Later, as he holds you close, he murmurs, “I don’t like sharing, baby. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Yunho tries not to be jealous—he really does. But the moment he sees someone getting a little too comfortable with you, his easygoing smile tightens just a little, and before you know it, he’s towering over you both, arm slung around your shoulders. “Oh hey, I don’t think we’ve met—I’m her boyfriend.” His voice is friendly, but the way he squeezes you just a bit closer tells you everything. Later, as he hugs you from behind, he pouts, “You’re mine, you know that? Don’t make me go all scary next time.”

Yeosang doesn’t say he’s jealous, but his body language says it all. The second someone starts flirting with you, his usual calm expression sharpens, and suddenly, he’s right next to you, looking down at them like they’re barely worth his time. He doesn’t start a fight—he just waits. Lets them feel the weight of his stare. Lets you feel the warmth of his hand against your back. Later, as he traces patterns on your skin, he murmurs, “Didn’t like that. Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

San is all about physical reminders of who you belong to. The second he sees someone getting too close, he’s behind you, hands gripping your waist, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Having fun, baby?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something dangerous in the way his fingers tighten. He doesn’t even look at the other person—he just tilts your chin toward him, all slow and deliberate, before pressing a kiss to your lips like no one else is there. Later, when you’re alone, he hums, “You like testing me, don’t you? It’s cute.”

Mingi hates getting jealous because he knows how he gets—impulsive, flustered, just a little too obvious. If someone flirts with you, he’s suddenly right there, looming behind you like a shadow, voice dropping dangerously low. “Oh wow, you thought you could talk to my baby while I wasn’t looking?” He lets out a slow chuckle, arms crossing over his chest, and stares. The second you’re alone, he’s tugging you onto his lap, lips brushing your neck as he mutters, “Don’t like when people forget you’re mine.”

Wooyoung is the king of being petty, and he does not hide it. The second he notices someone flirting with you, he’s suddenly all over you, arms locked around your waist, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh wow, you thought you could talk to my baby while I wasn’t looking? That’s cute.” He flashes them a grin, but his grip on you tightens just enough to make his point. The moment you’re alone, he pulls you onto his lap, fingers tracing slow circles on your thigh as he mutters, “I don’t share, sweetheart. Hope they got the message.”

Jongho doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, you feel it. He doesn’t interrupt—doesn’t need to. He just stands there, arms crossed, waiting for the poor soul trying to flirt with you to notice. And when they finally do? He just raises a single eyebrow, expression unreadable, and tilts his head toward you. “You done here?” He doesn’t need to say anything else—because once he takes your hand and pulls you away, it’s over. Later, he just shakes his head, sighing. “You really make me work, huh?”

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pedroassmanpascal · 6 months ago

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pedroassmanpascal · 6 months ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Pairing: stalker!perv!hyunjin x afab!reader, nonidol au, straight up strangers

Synopsis: he's a good boy. Honest. But when it comes to you? He can't help himself. You belong to him. Even though you don't know it yet. 🤷

Warnings: real suggestive, hyune is a gross perv, reader is oblivious of him, possessive!Hyune, subtle hint of murder, did I say he was gross??

A/n: wHy Do I fEel LIkE sOmeBodY'S waTchInG Meeee!! Buh yeah. I wanted to make this a nerd type jinnie but this came up instead. If you have extra eyes for errors, no you don't.

Viewers Descretion Is Advised heh...

He was on his knees, his hands clutching at your thighs, his lips parted in desperate prayer.

"Please…"

His own voice haunted him, soft and broken, echoing in his skull. He was never like this. You stood above him, eyes filled with unreadable amusement. His fingers burned to touch you, but in his mind, you were cruel.

"You want to touch me, Hyunjin?"

He whimpered, nodding frantically.

"Beg."

And he did. His voice cracked as he pleaded, hot and ruined. But just before he could feel your skin against his—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t reality.

His nightly alarm ripped him from the fantasy. His eyes snapped open, chest heaving, body twitching with the aftershocks of his release. The stickiness between his thighs made him shudder, disgust curling in his gut. Hyunjin lay tangled in his sheets, sweat beading along his forehead, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. That was pathetic of him, making a mess over a few words from your lips.

"Fuck," he whispered, running a hand through his damp hair. He sat up slowly, blinking at the dim light of his LEDs. The mess on his sheets was undeniable. His jaw clenched.

This wasn’t the first time.

Hyunjin moved on autopilot, stripping his bed with practiced ease. He shoved the soiled sheets into the laundry bin, his hands gripping the fabric a little too tightly. His body still buzzed from the dream; the ghost of your voice still sweet in his ears.

But he had more important things to do. Especially at 2:00am in the morning.

He turned everything on. The glow of neon green bled into every dark corner of his room. Security feeds flickered across his monitors; a digital shrine dedicated to you.

Padding barefoot to his desk, he clicked open the surveillance feeds. The middle monitor flickered to life, and there you were—curled in bed, skin soft beneath the green hue of his night-vision cameras.

His heartbeat slowed to something steady. He zoomed in on you and his eyes roamed over the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers twitched in sleep. Did you dream of him too? His tongue darted out to wet his lips. No. You weren’t even aware of him.

Yet.

Hyunjin leaned closer to the screen, his breath fogging up the glass as he watched you breathe.

He wasn’t primarily this akward and neither was he much of a stalker. He did know somethings about digital security and all. When he saw you the first time all the sane thoughts flew out of his head. Before you, Hyunjin had nothing.

Nothing mattered, at least. Sure, he woke up, ate, breathed, slept. The usual routine. He went through the motions of a life he didn’t care for. He felt hollow and detached from most of the problems of his world. He had tried to fill his void with multiple distractions- art, music, indulgences in things that could make the common man love. But for Hyunjin, nothing ever lasted.

It was a mistake really, seeing you. A glorious life-altering accident, though.

Hyunjin had been sitting in a quiet corner of a well-known library around the block, flipping through a book he had no real interest in, when you walked in. At first, it was just a glance, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision.

God, but your voice?

That voice of yours as you greeted the librarian cracked something inside of him. He looked up fully this time taking in your perfection, your stance. He was ruined now.

His grip om the book tightened, his breath caught, his pulse spiking. Never, had he felt something his…visceral. Hell, you didn’t even notice him. You had walked past his table with your intoxicating scent lingering in the air.

Like stupid puppy, Hyunjin followed.

No, not physically, c’mon I’m weird but not that weird. I was watching her. Even after she left the library.

Yes, he was. Every moment of your movements. Since you appeared at the library often, he would come often. To see how you nibble on your nails when the book was really captivating, how you’d check your watch to see if you were running late. Just simple, small things he thought were cute to watch.

Then it escalated. He lingered outside your coffee shop, sat at the back of the café to read your order from your lips. He walked past your apartment building when you got home from work late just to know where you live.

And then one night under the cover of darkness, he stood outside your window. His ragged breath fogging up the window. You had no idea, of course going on with your night per usual.

And fuck, it felt so, so good.

It made him feel, for the first time and Hyunjin didn’t want to turn back.

Hyunjin sat hunched over his desk, the glow of the monitors casting sickly green light over his face. His fingers twitched over the keyboard, adjusting the angles, zooming in. He was motivated to buy a tech set just to watch you, him told himself it was to ensure that you had security cameras that actually functioned.

Liar.

You stirred.

His breath hitched as your body shifted beneath the covers, the faintest movement sending a jolt of something filthy down his spine. Your legs stretched, the blanket slipping just enough to reveal the curve of your thigh. He exhaled shakily, fingers gripping the edge of his desk.

Then, you moved. He leaned in. You sat up, hair messy, eyes half-lidded with sleep. You yawned, rubbing your face before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Hyunjin felt like he was going to be sick with excitement.

Where are you going, baby?

He already knew. He had your habits memorized down to the way you sighed before standing up. The way your footsteps padded lazily against the floor.

Bathroom.

The grainy black-and-green feed followed you as you dragged yourself toward the restroom. The second you disappeared behind the door, Hyunjin groaned and slumped back in his chair.

His hand drifted downward, hovering over his waistband.

No. Not again. Not yet.

He needed to see you first. He stayed like that, body tensed, until you finally returned to bed. Even as you rolled onto your side, pulling the blankets up, he still watched. His head felt heavy, eyes drooping, but he didn’t move. He tried so hard to focus on you as you slept.

So beautiful…

The next alarm jolted him awake. He slept off again. He blinked rapidly, disoriented, before his gaze snapped to the monitors again. Where were you? Hyunjin clicked through the feeds, hands shaking.

Kitchen.

Hyunjin’s lips parted, a strangled noise caught in his throat. He glanced at his wall clock. Nine in the morning. Saturday.

Saturdays. God, he loved Saturdays.

You stood at the stove, your back to the camera, wearing nothing but a crop top and tiny shorts. Your hair was pinned up lazily, your skin on full display. His stomach twisted.

His fingers dug into his thighs.

Your bare legs, smooth and glowing under the kitchen light. Your waist, the dip of it, the skin just barely peeking out from beneath your top.

And your face—

You were still so fucking perfect.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

Need touch you so bad, Y/N.

He wanted to run his hands over every inch of skin you exposed, press his fingers into your thighs, bite down on your shoulder just to feel you jolt. The image of it made him ache, his breathing growing heavy. He imagined you in his apartment, cooking breakfast for him, dressed exactly like that. Maybe even less than that.

He clenched his jaw, shaking the thought away. He wasn’t stupid.

You weren’t his. But you would be.

----

Hyunjin’s hands trembled as he slid the key into your door. A perfect replica. He had stolen your original a few months ago for only a few minutes, just long enough to make a copy before slipping it back unnoticed. And now, he was inside.

He always came visiting when you weren’t around, making lunch getting, comfortable in your clothes. Today you left to visit a friend who had just gave birth (I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you talk really loudly when you’re excited.)

His breath hitched as he stepped into your bedroom, the scent of you wrapping around him like a drug. Soft. Sweet. Addictive. His knees nearly buckled. He shut the door behind him, his fingers grazing over your belongings—your bedside lamp, your half-full water bottle, your hairbrush tangled with strands of your hair.

Your bed.

The sheets were messy from this morning, still holding the faintest imprint of where your body had been. His stomach twisted, and he let out a shaky breath as he took slow, careful steps toward it. He lowered himself onto the mattress, hands gripping your blanket as he buried his face into your pillow.

Fuck.

It smelled just like you.

His eyes fluttered shut, his fingers clutching at the fabric like a starved man. He could live here. He could stay in this bed forever, wrapped in the scent of your shampoo, your skin, your warmth.

His hips shifted against the sheets, and a whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it.

He was so fucking hard.

The thought of you sleeping here, rolling around in these sheets, completely unaware of how much you were being watched—it made him dizzy. He sat up suddenly, gripping the bottle of your perfume from the dresser. His hands were unsteady as he popped the cap off and sprayed it onto his hoodie, onto his wrists, onto his neck—

That’s what he thought as he inhaled deeply, drowning in the artificial presence of you. His head spun, his entire body hot with feverish need. He lay back down, eyes locked onto the ceiling, hips pressing against your mattress. What if you were here?

What if he woke up next to you every morning, watching you stretch and yawn, your body warm from sleep? What if he rolled over, tangled his fingers in your hair, and whispered—

"No one else gets to have you like this, understood?"

The thought sent him spiraling. His hand drifted down, palm pressing into the bulge between his legs. A soft, desperate moan slipped out. He rocked into your sheets, bit down on your pillow, breathed you in like his life depended on it.

And then—

"Fuck—"

White-hot pleasure ripped through him, his body twitching, throbbing, spilling over himself in a filthy, obsessive mess. His hips jerked one last time before he slumped against the mattress, panting, ruined, completely drunk on you.

For a few minutes, he just lay there, staring up at your ceiling, his entire body pulsing with aftershocks.

But then—he realized.

He had made a mess. Hyunjin let out a slow, shaky laugh, sitting up as he ran a hand through his damp hair. His gaze flickered quickly to your sheets, checking if he’d left a stain.

No? Thank God.

He should feel ashamed. But if he had done it, you’d be sleeping with a part of him tonight.

Hyunjin sat in the dark, his fingers digging into his thighs so hard that his nails left crescent-shaped marks in his skin. His entire body trembled, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Because he was watching you. You came home late, Hyunjin could pardon that but not only that, you brought someone over. It was rare to see you with someone else of the opposite gender in your home, but when you did bring them over Hyunjin was more than furious. The monitor in front of him flickered with the grainy image of you—his perfect, beautiful, innocent girl—laughing at something another man had said.

Another man.

Some piece of shit standing in his spot, breathing his air, sitting too fucking close to you. You didn’t tell him you were going on a date this evening. Was it what you planned? Hyunjin’s grip on the edge of his desk tightened. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. His heartbeat was thunderous, deafening, furious. He watched as you leaned over, playfully shoving the man’s shoulder. His stomach twisted when you smiled at him like that. Like he mattered.

Like he was worthy of you.

His vision blurred with rage as he saw the man place his hand on your thigh.

No.

No, no, no, no—no one touches what belongs to Hyunjin.

His fingers twitched, the overwhelming urge to reach through the screen and rip that hand away flooding his entire system. He should be there. He should be the one sitting next to you. Holding your hand. Making you laugh. Whispering in your ear.

The man leaned in closer, too fucking close.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing— And then you stood up. He exhaled sharply, watching as you walked away, into the kitchen. The man stayed behind, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware that he was being watched.

Hyunjin’s lips curled.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as his fingers ghosted over the switchblade resting on his desk. He had his own history with the few men you’d brought over. Sure, it was…unethical. Everything he did for you was.

But the man wasn’t meant to last.

No one else was meant to be in your life but him.

And if he had to make that clear over and over…

He would.

What did I write...

Taglist:

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @alisonyus @rockstarkkami @morkleesgirl @yoongiismylove2018 @imeverycliche @katchowbbie @pixie-felix @maisyyyyyy @katyxstay @day138 @necrozica @nebugalaxy @jeonginnieswifey @leeknow-minho2 @jitrulyslayyed @igotajuicyass @imagine-all-the-imagines @pessimisticloather @sh0dor1

Check out my pinned if you want to be added to the taglist!

MASTERLIST:

~kc 💗

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pedroassmanpascal · 6 months ago

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JACKSON

you’re reunited with your husband in Jackson after twenty long years; pairing: pre&post-outbreak! joel x f!reader; warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF SARAH’S DEATH from perspective of her parents (you and joel), canon typical themes — death, injury (spinal) from gunshot, violence, explicit mentions of blood. EMOTIONAL ANGST

For the first time in twenty years, you were looking at your husband’s face. Watching his eyes take you in, drink you in, as if even blinking would render you gone once again, an impossible dream.

You had always been the most stunning sight in the world to him, but this was more — it was hope, you were hope, one he couldn’t believe, would not believe, until he felt the truth of it.

This couldn’t be.

He’d been crouched, arranging fresh wood in a crate while other men and women milled around him; there was laughter here, children running, a young girl not far from Joel’s side, too. By the way his shoulders lifted and fell, by the way he brought his sleeve up to wipe at his face even with the frigid cold air, you knew he had just been out on that supply run — getting wood for the fire. Knew by the tells of his body what he felt, what he meant, how he moved through the world.

And that was how you knew, beyond anything else you’d known in a very long time, that it was your husband you’d found so far from the rest of the forsaken world.

You’d only arrived last night. You hadn’t meant to be here at all. For the past twenty years, you’d survived by running with different groups; never staying too long, never settled, always heading for the next state, the next place. Searching, always, for the man who could not be dead. Who you would always search for. Of whom finding had been the only driving force behind every ache, each burning breath.

They hadn’t killed you the night they’d killed your Sarah, and the world went dark.

The bullet had missed your heart as it went through your back, but all Joel had seen was the blood, your limp body, the fire raging, a bright endless sea. He had carried your girl while Tommy gripped your hand tight, slipping, and ran — that had always been the promise: either one of you would choose Sarah, every time, without question. If it ever came down to that choice, it would be always your daughter.

That was the first and only night in fourteen years that the promise was tested.

It had happened in seconds. The four of you running, stumbling in blind horror at the fresh carnage. The bodies. Sarah shot, Tommy holding you back as you thrashed, and kicked, and screamed and screamed. Him letting you go, and you running on wind borne feet to your girl, to your husband that cradled her close to his body even as her blood seeped, so so much of that blood, your little girl’s blood, all over his shirt. His hands.

With you the other side of her, all you could do was lay her head on your lap, brush the hair back from her face and make promises you never could keep. Tommy was holding the line for you three, but even he did not see the next bullet.

A flash; a bright hot spear of pain in your spine, so white, its own lightening. A shout; Joel’s, then Tommy’s. The words: I’ve got her. I’ve got her. Being dragged up, shielded, framed by the body of the man who had become your brother; and over his shoulder, Joel’s eyes. The one wordless promise that was left.

Sarah.

He understood, and that nod of his chin as the tears slipped free confirmed it. Of course he understood. Whatever happened, he would stay with your little girl. For you both.

You didn’t know what happened next. You felt only that final moment looking at your husband and daughter; holding Joel’s eyes in their anguish at the moment you knew she was gone.

The explosion made its own white silence and you knew then only its heat. The sound so extreme that it was silent, that it became everything; that feeling of being wrenched, torn, of being flung through the dark world. You could’ve awoken years or hours later — you wouldn’t know for some time. Nor would Joel know for how long he searched for you on that dead plain, and found nothing. Had nothing.

Now, you saw in his eyes as the tears filled them, as shock made them wider, bolder. That colour you knew off by heart now such a deeper shade like the earth beneath frost; your favourite colour, thought to be lost to you. Revealed as alive, safe, okay.

All of those truths ratcheted through your body, and you could’ve gone to your knees right there in the snow. So close to everything, again. There had always been a string tied between you, an invisible tether, red, taut. It pulled now, your instincts both reaching only for the other, as he took that single half step toward you in the thick Southern snow.

Jackson — Joel was in Jackson, he was standing not six feet away from you now, and the force of that truth hit you in that moment like nausea, hard in the gut.

Your Joel. Your husband.

Joel.

With the same kind eyes and strong face, skin showing his age now in deep lines. The hair that was now streaked with more grey than brown, salt and peppered and meaning that he was alive. That he had aged, lived to age.

All this time, and he was still here.

You were both here.

A whimper from your lips, involuntary, a raw open animal sound, and he was moving — wood falling from his hands disregarded; broad, calloused hands you had known. Still knew.

The first moment of touch had you born again, both of you consumed, and renewed. The frantic movement of hands to make sure this was real, to feel enough of each other at once, impossibly desperate, new creatures that knew only how to respond to each other, to fall into that old easy rhythm your bodies once knew, and had shared. Still shared.

His hands at your face, yours bracing his arms. All real; that leather — all real. The man beneath it — real.

You were weeping, sobbing harder as he wept too, bodies heaving as they collided. His scent was the same as it had always been: leather, a dark warm smell. He breathed in your hair, your neck, and it was all you could do to breathe him in too. Clutching your arms around his back and holding him, home home home.

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pedroassmanpascal · 6 months ago

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(I don't remember if I sent this kind of plot or not, but—) Bear hybrid!John x Baker! User, please ><

young bunny hybrid baker fem!reader x old man brown bear hybrid!john price, laaarge age gap as always cause its my sweet treat 🥧🍰🐻🐇 although i write about a bunny reader, this is my first fic where she’s an actual real rabbit hybrid!

”wha—what?”

john finally glanced back at you, darting his eyes away from the honey covered pastries behind the glass. your bunny ears perked up, a clear sign of curiosity, and even surprise.

a slow smile made its way through his dark, thick facial hair, even his fluffy, short brown bear ears tickled in response to your own surprise. “yeah, sweet thing. I’ll have all of your honey pastries, please.”

“but—“ you certainly hadn’t expected that. usually, the only large orders that you’d packed had been acts of big donations, preparation for big events or parties, but no one had ever ordered the entire selection of a specific pastry.

you blinked innocently, caught off guard, from behind the counter. that man was huge, a mountain body of a big, buff brown bear, imposing, muscular and broad. his facial hair was thick, dark and littered with gray in all the right spots. “are you sure? this is not a mean prank…right sir?”

he chuckled. you were the most adorable and sweet bunny he’d ever laid eyes on, your soft ears now were slightly downturned, a sign of hesitation, shyness and an innocent that smelled better than the treats you’d baked.

“no, sweet’heart, s’not a joke. gotta store up food at home for the hibernation” he spoke with quiet dominance, a tone of both confidence and tenderness, as if he was amused by your sweetness.

“oh, right..” you blushed, your cheeks red and warm, but you gave him a shy smile, realizing how silly your doubt must’ve sounded — he was a bear hybrid, obviously he’d have to store up some food for his long slumber, “right, sir, sorry, i’ll get them for you”

you leaped, almost jumped, to the back door, gathering as many paper bags as you could, and john’s eyes fell on your uniform skirt, catching sight of a soft, round white fluffy mass of fur on your lower back — your bunny tail, twitching with your every move.

a short, deep sound vibrated from his throat, like a low little growl of acknowledgment. you were sweet, small and delicate, with your red cheeks and twitching ears as you carefully packed the glazy pastries in the bags. you tried to mentally keep count of how many treats you were giving away, but you almost lost count.

he definitely loved honey, you thought. he remained silent, keeping an intense, attentive eye on you, making you flustered and embarrassed, trying to make haste. when you’d finished off filling those bags, your hands were sticky and smelled like honey, and you mindlessly brought one hand to your lips, licking away and sucking the honey off your fingertips.

john's ears twitched, it was almost imperceptible, but his eyes were glued on your fingers. he bet you tasted so much sweeter than honey, sugary and velvety. a young, too young, sweet little thing.

he tucked his hand in the pocket of his trousers, it was large, thick and hairy, and folded some money, that immediately seemed to be way too much more than the actual price he had to pay.

“thank you, doll. keep whatever change there’s left.”

you smiled kindly at him, “oh, thank you, sir—“ but immediately shut your lips when you opened your hands and saw how much money he’d given you. it was too much of a tip. “sir, it’s too much, i can’t accept it”

“of course you can, love, let this old man thank a sweet bunny like you properly” he muttered back, a deep, low and rough tone that fueled your blush, painting your whole face red.

you gently picked the bags and handed them over to him, fluttering your lashes at him with an innocent, gentle smile. “thank you so much, sir, hope you like them. come back if you do!”

he smirked, giving you a wink, noticing how your bunny ears turned backwards and your face flamed red. your heart fluttered and a rush of warmth spread over your belly, and he could smell it, in the midst of all that sugary air, coated with all kinds of cream, biscuits and cookies — your growing arousal.

when john walked outside of the little bakery, he opened the first bag, ready to indulge in one little treat before going home, but before his hand could dwell into it, he noticed a little thin note attached to the bag — he removed it, and his mustache twitched with entertainment when he saw a little sketch of winnie the pooh, next to a little ‘thank you, come again!’ and your name, ending with a heart.

oh, he was definitely coming again. he wanted to taste more than just your pastries.

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