#How to Write for Fast Feeds

[marketing-insider-group]

Clear Beats Clever: Writing for Fast Feeds - Marketing Insider Group

Discover why clarity outperforms cleverness in digital content. Learn how to write posts that get attention, hold it, and drive results in fast-scrolling environments.

[bonefall]

The fandom making fun of a character for disabilities reminds me of when people made aus where Rainflower became disabled as “karma” for how she treated Crookedstar. If the character is “messed up” enough some people in the fandom will have no problem with treating them as if they deserve to be disabled as if it’s a punishment.

The leftism LEAVING people's bodies when they think that a person deserves to become disabled as a punishment. The leftism being downright EXORCISED from people's bodies when they can frame a baby being born disabled as a consequence for the sins of their parents.

[invinciblevalentine]

atp i would snort reeve tuesti fic like cocaine.

if anyone knows any fics that put reeve through the blender like “Son” by She_sees_in_the_dark or “Through Another’s Eyes” by CorsairOriginal—

i need to see that man under enough pressure to make a diamond crack. For my health.

[runawaymun]

the whole tiktok ban situation is super crunchy and I'm conflicted. Because on the one hand...it does feel startlingly close to a kind of censorship and I think the whole 'chinese government links' thing is pure scaremongering. But on the other hand I genuinely think that tiktok has accelerated the rate of enshittification of so, so many things. Like it has been a net harm in basically everything. Even the publishing industry is suffering now. As someone who wants to get novels published, the entire state of the publishing industry catering to tiktok and the quality of even bookbinding rapidly deteriorating in the past couple of years, I've been reconsidering and thinking about simply setting up a website/archive to self publish my work.

So...I don't know. It's not as if other social media sites (X, Facebook, etc.) haven't done harm, and it's not like huge media giants like Google haven't caused possibly irreparable damage to how things work now, but...I just distinctly remember a pre-tiktok, pre-covid world and things legitimately weren't as bad online then as they are now. Tiktok actually feels uniquely bad. The change happened so rapidly, too. At what point do we decide that a product causes enough visible harm that it needs to be removed? Because that's what tiktok is, at the end of the day. It's a product. We don't have the same clear measurement as we do with, say, lead paint on children's toys, but idk idk idk...

[viciousbite]

//have this random one too where I picked random canons--

[hooffuloftootsierolls]

*Me, listening to Bruno Is Orange* This too, is adamsapple-coded

[the-hwaelweg]

Working in publishing, my inbox is basically just:

Article on the Horrors of AI

Article on How AI Can Help Your Business

Article on How AI Has Peaked

Article on How AI Is Here to Stay Forever

Article on How AI Is a Silicon Valley Scam That Doesn't Live Up to the Promise and In Fact Can't Because They've Literally Run Out of Written Words to Train LLMs On

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Hmmmm...Did you write the LNDS men of "How their lovemaking look like"? If not, what is their kind of lovemaking look like? Is it rough and passionate, sensual and intimate with a deeper connection?

໒꒱ ₊˚ THEIR LOVEMAKING ?!

❧ warnings : fem!reader. nsfw/smut, p*ssy drunk men, biting & marking, creampie, manhandling, mild degradation, non-stop s*x size kink & difference and Xavier is a freak in his part.

❧ note : i was waiting for someone to send me an ask like this. ily.

．𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 — 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℯ𝓋ℴ𝓊𝓇ℯ𝓇.

Sylus doesn’t just fuck—he consumes. His desire is a bottomless pit, insatiable and overwhelming, and he buries himself in them like he’s trying to lose himself completely. His cock forces you open, stretching your pussy around his girth, thrusting in deep, slow, intentional. He makes you feel every inch, dragging against their walls until your gasping, shuddering, their body betraying you as you squeeze down on him.

His grip is unyielding. Fingers digging into their hips, forcing you still, holding them in place while he watches your body react, burning the sight into his memory. He wants to hear you break—hear the way your moans crack, the way you beg without meaning to. He feeds off of it. His mouth is on you constantly, sucking marks onto your throat, biting your shoulder, tongue lapping at the sweat beading on your skin.

His voice is a low rasp against your ear, rough, strained—“Take it. Let me feel you.” Not a command. A demand. His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, hips snapping against theirs with force, the wet sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the dimly lit room. He’s lost in you, drunk off the way your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock, pulling him in like you don’t want him to leave.

And he won’t. Even when he fills you, pumping you full with thick, hot cum, Sylus doesn’t pull out. He stays inside, cock still throbbing, stretching you open, keeping you full. His breath is ragged, lips brushing against your temple as he murmurs, “I need more.”

And then he starts moving again.

．𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 －𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒸ℯ.

Caleb fucks like he fights—mercilessly, all-consuming, and without hesitation. He doesn't slow down, doesn't ease you into it. The moment he's inside, stretching your pussy around his cock, it's over. His thrusts are rough and fast, forcing you to take him, knocking the breath from your lungs with every snap of his hips. He’s big, and he makes sure you feel it—feel the way he splits you open, fills you so deep your legs shake from the sheer intensity of it.

He holds nothing back. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he keeps them spread, keeping you wide open for him, helpless beneath his relentless pace. There's no escape, no chance to catch your breath. His cock pounds into you, dragging against your walls with each brutal thrust, every stroke sending another shock of pleasure straight to your core. You’re shaking, overstimulated, but Caleb doesn’t stop—not until he’s gotten his fill.

His voice is low, breathless, rasping against your skin as he leans down, pinning you beneath his weight. “You can take it. Don’t run from me.” His teeth graze your neck before he bites down, hard, leaving marks, staking his claim in a way that makes your body clench around him. The second he feels it, he laughs, a rough, breathy sound against your ear—like he knew you couldn’t resist him.

His cock twitches inside you, driving in deeper, faster, harder. His body tenses, muscles straining as he slams into you with one final thrust, spilling inside, filling you up with thick, hot cum. But even then, he doesn't pull out. Doesn't move. Just stays there, cock still throbbing inside you, making sure every last drop stays right where he put it.

Caleb presses his forehead against yours, breath still heavy, his fingers tightening around your hips as if daring you to move. Then, with a smirk and a rough kiss against your lips, he murmurs—“We’re not done.”

And just like that, he starts again.

． 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 － 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝑔ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓇ℴ𝓇.

Zayne makes love like he’s savoring every second, like he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. His touch is firm but tender, guiding your body with ease, making sure you’re comfortable, worshiped, and wanted. He kisses you slowly, deeply, taking his time as he slides his cock inside you, stretching you open inch by inch until you’re completely full. He groans softly against your lips, feeling the way your walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to his size. “You feel perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, as if he’s already drunk off the feeling of you.

His pace is slow at first, deliberate—he wants you to feel everything, to savor every drag of his cock against your walls, every inch sinking deeper, pressing into spots that make your breath hitch. His hands roam your body, tracing your curves, holding you close, making sure you never slip away from him. He watches every reaction, memorizing the way your lips part, the way your back arches, how your fingers clutch at him like you need him.

“Look at me,” he breathes against your cheek, his fingers tangling with yours, pressing your hands down beside your head. His thrusts grow deeper, hitting the spot that makes you tremble, makes soft moans spill from your lips. His forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours, lost in the moment. He’s passionate but controlled, making love to you like he has all the time in the world—as if nothing else exists beyond this.

As your pleasure builds, his movements grow more desperate, his breathing heavier, his control slipping as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing the feeling of being as close to you as possible. His grip on your hands tightens, his lips brushing against your skin as he groans, “I need to feel you come around me.” And when you do—when your body clenches down on him, trembling beneath him—he follows, his cock pulsing inside you, spilling his warmth deep inside, filling you up completely.

Even after, he doesn’t pull away. He stays buried inside you, holding you close, his lips tracing lazy kisses along your jaw. His voice is a quiet whisper against your ear, full of affection, “I don’t want to let go.”

．𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 － 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓇ℯ𝓁ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀.

Xavier is a force of nature in bed—wild, eager, and unrestrained. The moment he’s inside you, he’s on fire, driven by an overwhelming desire to pleasure you and himself in equal measure. His hands are all over you, pulling your body close, keeping you right where he wants you as his cock stretches you open, moving with a desperation that only fuels his hunger. His thrusts are fast, almost frantic, as if he’s trying to lose himself in you, as if he needs to feel you swallow him whole.

His voice is thick with need, rough and low as he growls, “You’re gonna take all of me, aren’t you? You won’t run from me.” The words are almost taunting, daring you to feel the heat of his craving, the way his body demands to be used. He’s demanding in his own way, but there’s a subtle submission beneath it all—a quiet desperation to please you, to make sure you’re as overwhelmed by him as he is by you.

His cock drives into you with relentless force, hitting places that have you gasping, your body shaking under him. He’s rough, no doubt, but it’s more than that—there’s a freakish hunger in the way he fucks, an unhinged need to feel everything. His fingers dig into your skin, his chest pressed against yours, sweat slicking your bodies together as his hips snap faster, harder, chasing that edge, pulling you with him.

When he feels you starting to unravel beneath him, he loves it. His mouth finds your neck, biting down on your skin as he whispers, “Fuck, you’re perfect. You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop.” His voice cracks as he groans, the desperation in his tone almost needy, like he’s begging for more, begging you to let him ruin you.

Xavier isn’t afraid to let go of control, but when he does, it’s a complete submission. As he comes inside you, hot and thick, he falls apart with a moan, his cock twitching, pumping every last drop into you, feeling the tremors rattle through his body. And then, when he’s done, he doesn’t pull away—he collapses against you, panting, soft, his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering, “I’ll always let you take control. Just... fuck, you’re too good.”

He’s not afraid to let you see his vulnerability, even in the aftermath of that primal need.

．𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 －𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒻𝓊𝓁 ℴ𝓃ℯ.

Rafayel is the kind of lover who turns the bedroom into a playground, not taking things too seriously but still knowing exactly how to make you melt. He’s a bit of a goof, always with a wide grin on his face, as if he’s just as excited to have you as you are to have him. His cock isn’t the biggest, but the way he uses it is pure fun—enthusiastic and eager, every thrust coming with a playful, almost mischievous energy.

He’s not smooth—no, that’s not his thing. He fumbles a little as he tries to position you just right, his hands a little too clumsy, but it only adds to his charm. “Wait, wait... Okay, hold on. Got it!” He says, breathless with a chuckle, before finally finding the rhythm. His pace is all over the place at first, but he’s trying so hard, grinning like a fool every time you moan, completely adoring the sounds you make.

His voice is lighthearted, teasing as he looks at you with bright eyes, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Oh, shit, you feel so good. Wait, did I just—oops!”He laughs, a little embarrassed by his own awkwardness, but he doesn’t stop. He really doesn’t stop—he’s just trying to make you feel as good as he does, even if he’s a little clueless about how to do it just right.

His cock slides in and out of you with a goofy grin plastered on his face, his hands holding your hips tightly but not with the roughness of others. His touch is gentle, like he’s treating you like something delicate, though his enthusiasm might suggest otherwise. “You’re so warm... I think I can do better. You ready?” He asks between thrusts, not realizing just how perfectly he’s already making you feel.

There’s something so endearing about his approach—he’s a little bit of a mess, but you can’t help but laugh and enjoy the moment. When he finally comes, his face is flushed, a goofy grin on his lips as he breathes out a satisfied, “That was awesome. I’m a pro, huh?”

Even after, he’s still silly, holding you close, nuzzling your neck. “That was fun, right? We should do that again… maybe with less accidents next time.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[b4tgirlz]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he’s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.

[teaboot]

Because a few have asked

Teaboot's Super Okay Guide To Developing A Brain That Makes Art Work

Or: How to get your eyes to talk directly to your hands without your brain micromanaging you

Or: How to draw better

⚠️ Warning for super fast gifs cause they all gotta be 5 seconds or less or else my phone shits the bed ⚠️

1. Do the following exercises. Don't just think about doing them or figure out a clever way to not do them, just do them. Yes even the boring ones and the ones that look ugly

2. If you have any pride, crush it. Kill it. Crunch it up into itty bitty bits and feed it to the ducks at the park. You have no talent and don't know anything and everything you make is hot garbage. Believe that. Make yourself believe that. That is where you live now. Surrender any indignation or shame you have to the void and embrace rock bottom.

3. Read step 2 again and actually do it this time. My methods will not work if you try to make this process pretty. Don't.

4. No drawing from your imagination on these. Actually draw from real life. If it's boring like eating day old oatmeal in in beige room but your usual art still feels wonky then I'm talking to you specifically. You can't write poetry until you learn words and yes learning words is as dull as horseshit sometimes but do you wanna be Robert Frost or not

5. Pick up some cheap paper and a ballpoint pen. Grab a small object, between the size of your hand and the size of a microwave. Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Put the tip of your pen to the paper and press "start".

Now without looking at your paper, only looking at the object, draw the object in as much detail as you can. Do not break contact between the paper and the pen tip until the timer goes off.

This is a continuous line drawing, and you're doing it in pen because you need to know what rock bottom looks like and rock bottom looks like no eyes no erasers no shading no do-overs.

6. Sit down in a public place. As someone walks by, draw their their body in as much accuracy as you can before they are no longer in view. Once you can't see them anymore, the drawing is done. No adding details. Pick someone else and do it again. No "base sketch". Just them. If it barely looks human you're doing great

7. Get a black pen. Put a small object on a dark, flat surface. Now draw the surface without drawing the object. Don't draw the outline of the object. Don't do a sketch. Just draw the surface that is visible around the object until only a silhouette remains. No time limit just do it.

The ability to draw accurate proportions from sight comes from learning to see what exists between a thing and the absence of a thing and if that hurts to think about then you need to do it more

8. Keep doing these until you are Ready.

9. You will know when you are Ready. It will make sense when you are Ready. You will Understand.

10. Unwind with some goofy shit so you don't forget why you wanna improve to begin with

[eufezco]

BRING YOUR BUCKY TO SCHOOL DAY 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

congressman!dad!bucky x teacher!mom!reader

synopsis – bucky shows up for family friday day for your daughter.

fluff

she was ecstatic.

you could see how her tiny legs swung eagerly from the edge of the chair as she kicked back and forth. her hair was pulled into two pigtails that bounced with every excited shift in her chair. she kept looking at the door, eyes wide, for the moment she'd been waiting for all week.

today was her day to bring her dad to class, and saying she loved her dad was an understatement. she adored bucky.

you tried to keep the lesson moving, but the other kids were also whispering and giggling, feeding off her energy.

outside the classroom, bucky stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. he'd fought hydra operatives, aliens, and androids, he'd stood in congress facing the most ruthless critiques, but none of that had made him sweat like this. he was trained to face enemies, not five-year-olds in circle time. today wasn't about politics or missions, it was about being a good dad, the kind who shows up on time, brings the juice boxes, and knows the names of at least three cartoon characters.

—alright, everyone! —you announced, clapping your hands once to pull the kids' attention back to you. —it's time for family friday! —she sat up straighter than you'd ever seen her, eyes moving fast from the door to you and back to the door. —whose parent is coming today?

a chorus of voices answered all at one, —rebecca's!

—can i please go get him? please? pleasepleaseplease?

you laughed, —of course, go ahead.

and she was out of her seat like a rocket, pigtails bouncing, sneakers squeaking across the classroom as she threw the door open and there he was, just where he said he'd be. bucky's eyes met hers and everything felt lighter, the tight lines around his mouth eased, his lips curved into a smile.

she threw her arms around his waist. the kids inside the classroom leaned across their desks, trying to catch a glimpse of the man they'd heard so much about. bucky gently placed one of his hands in the back of her head, steadying himself more than her.

—hey, little one.

—guys? why don't you come in with all of us? —you asked.

—come on, —rebecca murmured. she grabbed his metal hand without hesitation and led him inside the classroom with all the confidence in the world. it didn't occur to her, not even for a second, that bucky might be nervous because to her, he was the bravest person alive.

as they walked in together, the class went silent except for some surprised gasp and quiet murmur. they both stood in the front of the classroom. your daughter's small hand still gripped his metal fingers. you watched them as bucky said good morning to the class and the kids responded with a chorus of greetings. you and bucky shared a quick look and you showed him a soft smile that you hoped it'd let him know how proud you were of him.

—thank you, mr. barnes, for being here with us today.

—thank you for having me.

the exchange was so formal it felt funny, like you were both playing roles. —okay, rebecca, —you said, the smile still on your lips. you had to remind professional but they were so cute together. your daughter looked at you and let go bucky's hand to approach her desk. she grabbed the piece of paper she'd been writing all week. she hurried back to bucky's side, —why don't you introduce your dad to us?

she nodded and looked up at bucky, her eyes sparkling with pride. then her eyes focused on her uneven handwriting on the paper. bucky watched her with a curious tilt of his head, eyebrows raised. he didn't know there would be a paper, something she'd made just for him. you didn't tell him about it, even though you'd watched her all week in class draft and redraft the paper, brows furrowed in that serious way she got that was just like his.

—this is my dad, —she started, voice weak at first thanks to the mix of nervous and excitement. —his name is james, but everyone calls him bucky, and he's a 108 years old.

a few of the kids exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure if they'd heard that correctly. bucky gave a subtle glance in your direction and you couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

—he works in congress. he helps making laws and he has to wear a suit. this suit, —she pointed at bucky's clothes, making sure everyone saw him clearly. the suit was deep blue, the american flag pinned on the lapel. he was so handsome, especially today, with that sparkle in his eyes that only came when he looked at his little girl. —he's also a superhero like my uncle sam and he has fought a lot of bad people with him.

the kids recognized the name sam because if your daughter didn't brag about who his favorite uncle was at least twice a week, it meant she was probably home sick. bucky let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. he always felt like the word superhero was too big for him, like it belonged to the people who hadn't made the mistakes he had. but coming from her, it felt right-sized, even some quiet earned.

—but a long time ago he used to be a soldier and he had to wear this, —she reached under her t shirt, pulling out his dog tags. they dangled from the chain, too long for her tiny frame and almost reached her belly button as she held them up for everyone to see.

—my favorite memory with him is when this summer we traveled with mom to wakanda. i got to see shuri and she showed me a lot of cool things. wakanda is so beautiful, i like it there, —she cleared her throat. she sounded a little robotic reading, trying hard to read each word exactly as she wrote it, which only made her cuter. —i like when he's home. i like when he plays with me and alpine. i like when his hair is long because i can make him pigtails like mine, —she pointed at her own pigtails. the kids in the classroom giggled and so you did.

—i think he's the bravest dad and the funniest and the best one, and he's also my favorite superhero, —she put down the paper when she finished and everyone in the class started clapping for her, even bucky who was trying to hold it together and had to swallow the lump in his throat.

bucky knelt down and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck. —you did amazing, bug, thank you, —he whispered. her arms tightened around him.

—it was great, rebecca, thank you, —you said, trying to hide that you've got a little emotional too. —so now, —you clapped, getting everyone's attention. —who has a question for rebecca's dad?

a dozen small hands raised, waving in the air with urgency. some kids even half-stood in their chairs, calling you ms. barnes! ms. barnes! bucky tried not to smile, it felt strange and right at the same time.

—is your dad a robot, 'becca?

your daughter blinked, caught of guard. —he's not a robot, he's my dad, —she looked at you confused. a robot? you smiled to ease her nerves. you knew why the kid was asking, kids notice everything.

—why do you think mr. barnes is a robot?

the kid pointed at bucky's left hand and your daughter's eyes followed his finger. —that's his arm, —she said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. it was so normal to her that she forgot to mention it on her paper, it was like saying he had brown hair.

—it's metal, —bucky finally spoke, his voice gentle, raising his left arm so the class could get a good look. he slowly opened and closed his fingers, the soft, mechanical sound leaving the kids speechless. —made by really smart people. they built it after i lost my real arm so i could still do everything i used to do.

—and it's so strong and cool, and he can still do everything, like throw me really high in the air and catch me, and also this! —rebecca looked at bucky and he extended his metal arm straight out in front of him, wrist locked. rebecca jumped and wrapped her hands around his forearm, legs swinging beneath her like a tiny acrobat.

a chorus of whoa and giggles filled the room. they asked him a lot of question about his arm: can it break a door? (only if the door really deserves it) can you use it to open pickle jars? (yes) does it hurt, mr. barnes? (not anymore) can it fall off?

—it's not like legos! it's part of him! can your arm fall off? —you daughter said, defensively.

—okay, you can sit now rebecca, thank you, —you jumped gently in before it turned into a debate. she looked at her dad one last time before moving to her desk, —next respectful question for mr. barnes? not about his arm, please, —some kids lowered their hands. —what about if we ask him about his job? —a hand in the back shot up. —yes?

—do you have to do homework in congress?

bucky chuckled, then gave a kid a serious nod. —oh yeah. lots of homework. i have to read really long reports, like this long, —he held his hands apart. —sometimes more. and then i have to write notes and be ready to talk about them in front of a bunch of people.

you bit your lip, fighting the urge to laugh. he did not read a single one of those reports. you shot him a quick, teasing look and he just smiled back at you, as if to say, don't spoil my fun.

—do you live in the white house?

rebecca looked from her sit right, then left, eyebrows raised like she was trying to figure out if the question was a joke. —no! he lives in our house. with me and mom and alpine.

bucky pressed his lips together and nodded, —she's right.

you watched as the questions kept coming, one after another, each more curious than the last. no other dad or mom who had attended to friday family had ever received so many questions. the kids were absolutely fascinated by bucky. and he was handling perfectly, laughing with them, answering to every question kindly, never rushing, making sure each child got their turn, even one of your shyest kids asked him if he could shook his metal hand. bucky looked at you for a quiet okay, then rolled up his sleeve just a little, offering his hand to the kid.

he was doing great and your daughter seemed to know it. she sat up a bit taller, legs still swinging from her chair. while bucky was talking, you caught her sneaking glances at her classmates like saying, see? that's my dad. and the look of pride in rebecca's face as she looked at him calmed every nerve in bucky's body. of course, rebecca didn't know about this but last night, after he tucked her in bed, bucky came into your room, worried about today. what if rebecca realized he wasn't as cool as the other dads? what if she ended up embarrassed by him?

you managed to reassure him enough to get him to sleep but nothing you said compared to the reassurance he felt now, because as he stood there in front of the classroom, surrounded by eager little faces, rebecca's blue eyes, like his, were shining. she wasn't just smiling. she was beaming, like bucky was the best part of her world.

and in the middle of this precious moment, you couldn't help but notice the couple of seats empty at the back of the class.

some parents decided not to bring theirs kids to school that day. when you sent that email to them, announcing that rebecca's dad was next in line for family friday, the last thing you expected was to called into the principal's office the next morning, where you found a handful of moms and dad already seated. are you sure that's appropiate? with his past? some of us are uncomfortable. we don't want our children near him.

you sat through the meeting, jaw tight. be careful, that's my husband you're talking about. you said to one of the moms who was getting to comfortable talking about bucky, tossing around words like unstable and dangerous. you explained that he was pardoned, publicly and legally, so there was no reason to question him. and you said enough, there was no reason you needed to list the therapy appointments, the years of community word, the fact that he woke up every morning wondering if today would be the day everyone finally saw him for who he is, not who he was, all of that for people like them.

and the principal had to side with you. there was no reason for him to stay out of family friday and even though bucky didn't know why those kids weren't here today, and if he asked you wouldn't tell him the truth, you couldn't help but feel bad for him. because he showed up here today just as a dad, doing what be knew best, being there for his daughter.

he stayed during the break and the kids wasted no time. a small group, leaded by rebecca, rushed to him. come on, mr. barnes, we'll show you the reading corner. bucky looked slightly overwhelmed but the smile never left his lips. you moved with them, pointing out little projects hanging on the wall and bucky nodding, paying attention. when the kids huddled up in a corner, discussing which drawings he absolutely had to see first, bucky reached out, his arm slid around your waist as he pulled you closed and you let yourself lean into him.

—you're doing great, —you whispered.

about the drawings, he had already found the one he was most interested in. stuck to the wall, it was almost everything green with colorful flowers and a big lake so he guessed it was meant to be wakanda. in the center were three figures one with your name, next to you it was written me ('becca) and dad (bucky). alpine was there too, a little white cat in the corner, she didn't travel to wakanda but that didn't matter to rebecca, she needed to be included in the drawing.

he pressed a kiss to your temple. you looked at the clock on the wall, —okay, guys, mr. barnes needs to leave now, —you could hear a collective complain, —let's give him a big thank you for coming today.

a chorus of thank you, mr. barnes rang out from the kids, some of them waving excitedly, others wanted one last fist bump from bucky as they called his name, even one, the quietest of your kids, moved toward him and he pressed a golden sticker star onto the vibranium of bucky's hand. —thank you, buddy, —the kid hurried to his place.

rebecca ran to his dad and bucky was quick to catch her in a hug.

—can you stay a bit longer?

—i wish i could, bug, —he pulled back enough to see her face, brushing some dark brown locks like his out of her eyes. —i have to go back to work, but thank you for sharing your class with me, i had so much fun, —rebecca's face scrunched in disappointment, only focusing on the fact that bucky needed to leave. —i'll see you later at home.

—before dinner?

he nodded and she threw her arms around his neck again, tighter this time, hiding her face in the curve of his shoulder. when she finally loosened her grip, bucky gently set her back down on the floor. you walked with him to the door, some kids calling his name one last time. he let out the biggest breath when the door of the class closed behind you, like he'd been holding it in the whole time.

—how was i? i think she was happy, wasn't she? she seemed happy.

you nodded, smiling. —you were amazing, buck, —you tucked in the lapels of his suit jacket, running your thumb over his u.s. flag pin.

—i kept thinking i'd say the wrong thing or that i'd embarrass her.

you shook your head as he spoke. —you didn't. you were patient and funny. she kept looking at you like you hung the moon, —bucky rubbed the back of his neck, you asked, —did you hear what she wrote about you?

bucky's heart shrunk remembering it, her daughter's tiny voice reading out, all proud, and let's said, a bit cocky, like she already knew her dad was the best one. —i want that paper. i'm gonna frame it and put it up in my office.

you laughed and tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him down to you and pressed a kiss to his lips. he hummed into it, like he'd been craving that exact moment since he slipped out of bed in the early morning. once you pulled back, he placed another quick kiss to your lips.

—i'll see you at home. i cannot wait, i want to hear everything she said about me again, every word.

you playfully slapped his chest, —do not let it get to your head, mr. barnes.

—too late for that, ms. barnes.

[jinx-xxed]

Silver Chains

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I’ve already watched Sinners 4 times and became obsessed so I fear it’s necessary for me to write a fic for Remmick at least once 🤕 this is my first time writing vampires and blood like this so please forgive me if it sucks 🙏 also if I’ve written anything in relation to the movie incorrectly please tell me so I can fix it! I have some other ideas brewing that I might write as well so I hope you enjoy :P!

Summary; A hunt gone awry leaves you caught by vampire hunters with the threat of the sun looming over you.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, vampire reader, vampirism, vampire hunters, blood and injury, death, feral behavior, you almost die, protective/possessive Remmick, very dependent relationship, bloodsucking, blood eating as kink, a lot of drool, he comes with it what can I say, feeding off Remmick, putting those claws and teeth to good use, eating out, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, little bit of aftercare, soft Remmick

Wc; 7.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The stench of blood assaults your nose.

It’s not the tantalizing, mouth-watering scent of someone else’s, no, it’s your own. It smells all sorts of wrong, impure and old with decay only to a thing like you.

Your blood runs down your skin in rivulets, staining it a deep, shiny red. Droplets fling from your body as you thrash and jerk against the heavy, silver chains that bind you to a thick and sturdy tree. The pain of the bark digging into your back is nothing compared to the agony of the chains burning your flesh away, steam rising from your injuries like you’d been placed on burning coals. It makes you wild, desperate to get away but with nowhere to go.

There’s no chance of you escaping the chains that sit against your neck, arms, waist, and legs in sets of two, even despite your struggling and the way you try to launch yourself from the tree with the slight leeway you have with your feet. Your unnerving eyes gleam in the moonlight, wide and frantic with fear, your bloodstained, jagged teeth showing in your open mouth. You feel as far from human as you possibly could be, snarling like an animal and chained just like one too.

The men watching you seem to think the same thing.

There’s five of them, two sit on their horses while the other three steadily pace the small clearing they have you in. God damn vampire hunters, armed to the teeth with everything they need to kill the likes of you. Silver bullets, silver chains, garlic and holy water, wooden stakes on their belts. It’s like they’re surrounded by a bubble of protection that you can’t penetrate, that’ll hurt you if they get too close—which isn’t that far off.

You curse yourself over and over. You and Remmick made damn sure to stay away from Choctaw land and yet here you are, caught and beaten. This is a new type of hunter, one you’d never had the misfortune of coming across before. They hunt in the dead of night, they enjoy watching you thrash and suffer, and their methods are cruel, meant to draw out your punishment.

You’ve never heard or seen a lick of them prior to tonight when you’d been ambushed and chased through the woods.

A gunshot had pierced your shoulder, one that brought more pain than your typical lead bullet. It had left you stumbling with a choked yell, steam rising from the hole in your shoulder blade. Then you’d heard the rustling in the underbrush, the hoots and hollers of men with a different kind of bloodlust than what you’re used to. Oh you’d ran, you’d ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the rough terrain of the forest, clearing fallen logs and scraping your bare arms on branches and thorns.

They’d caught you with another bullet to your thigh and a rope around your legs, pulling snug as soon as you tried to take another step and sending you thudding onto the hard ground. They’d wrapped you in silver soon after, seemingly experts on how to maneuver around you to avoid your snapping teeth and deadly nails. The first touch of the silver made your skin bubble and burn, a scream tearing out of your throat against your will. They’d dragged you crying for you don’t know how long behind their horses, all the way to the edge of the forest that overlooks a field that’s flat for as far as the eye can see.

You don’t know where they came from, they’re clearly unrelated to any other group or tribe of hunters, instead being just a gaggle of men who have dedicated their lives to eradicating yours. The history of your kind isn’t widely known, isn’t readily available to the public, so in your pain-addled brain you still wonder where they heard your tales, still wonder what else you might have to worry about if the knowledge is growing.

Your head thumps back, your breath coming ragged through your lungs. You shut your eyes tight for just a moment, trying to force away any more tears and clear your head. You haven’t felt pain like this in a long, long time, especially because Remmick has always been there to keep an eye on you, to keep you out of harms way. But not this time, not when you strayed too far and got too distracted to be vigilant about your surroundings. You’d been stupid and you know that, so part of you thinks you deserve this.

“Just stake me and be done.” You groan, ultimately defeated as the silver chains bite through your skin to the bone. It’s not like you want to die necessarily, you just want to be released from your own agony. You hate the way they’re toying with you, watching like wolves as you writhe and bleed.

One man shakes his head, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat he wears. “Nah, we like to watch y’all burn.” He looks to his watch and then up at the sky. “Ain’t gon’ be much longer now.”

You can’t help looking as well, your eyes finding the ever lightening night sky. The stars have been chased away, the moon laying itself to rest on the other side of the earth. You can feel the threat of the sun as the air steadily warms, as time tick, tick, ticks away. If you had to guess, you have about thirty minutes left at most before yellow rays peak over the horizon line.

You force a swallow down your torn throat, your breathing stutters as panic kicks up in your chest. You figure seeing the sun in your final moments won’t be the worst thing, it has been seven years after all, but nobody wants to be burned alive. You don’t want to feel your skin cook and be engulfed by flames, you don’t want your last memory to be pain. Tears fall down your bloodstained cheeks without you realizing, dripping to the forest floor as your head hangs.

Then there’s a rustle in the trees beyond that makes your attention snap back up. That’s when you sense it, when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise. It’s like a blanket of eerie quiet was laid over the clearing, quieting any crickets or frogs or birds and leaving just the whispers of an old wind through the trees. There’s a flash of red, the familiar smell of ancient blood and earth hitting your nostrils. It’s an instant comfort.

Your own reaction has caused the hunters to become alert, clutching their guns a little tighter and looking into the trees. They don’t even realize what’s happening before the screams start.

The first man goes down—the first is always the easiest. The horses startle in turn, rearing up with loud, shrill whinnies that make the men on their backs shout. One falls off his beast while the other gets dragged from the saddle with a yell. The horses shake their heads and shriek before crashing into the forest, leaving their riders behind to get their throats torn open.

You could sob in relief at seeing Remmick, his claws extended and his fangs bared. He looks feral, his hair wild and his eyes wide and gleaming bright red. Blood coats his chin and his neck, staining the collar of his button up as he rips into his victims as messily as he pleases. The two men left got enough of their senses to try and fire their guns, to use the weapons they so carefully prepared. One wields a wooden stake and runs at Remmick who grabs the man’s wrists to prevent the stake from being buried into his heart.

They grapple briefly before the man is being slammed onto the ground with a terrifying ease, something within his body cracking. Claws are raked across his neck in a quick slash, urgency spurred by the cock of a gun, the sound of the shot being fired making you flinch as it rings through the clearing. It misses its target by just a hair and it’s unable to reload fast enough to prevent Remmick from jumping on the final hunter. The man goes down with a choked scream and you hear the familiar sounds of flesh being devoured and blood being drained. There’s only a sickly silence that follows.

All of the spilled blood has thick strings of drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, your hunger flaring up from the lack of food you’d gotten tonight and the exhaustion of struggling against the hunters. You lean forward instinctively, desperate for a taste, before the silver chains binding your body remind you of where you are. You jolt back with a whimper, pain biting into you tenfold.

Remmick’s head snaps up, those sinister red eyes finding you as the bloodlust and blind rage fades, as he seems to remember you. He’s up in an instant, hurrying over and flinching away with a snarl when he realizes what’s wrapped around your body. “Shit.” He spits angrily, doing it again when he looks to the horizon and sees the slow infiltration of the oranges and yellows of morning into the purples and blues of night. Ten minutes left.

“Rem- Remmick- please, please get me out- it hurts, Remmick, please.” You beg, your babbling words warbling with pain and emotion. You don’t want to be left behind, not again, not by him. It’d hurt more than the searing kiss of the sun.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, darlin’.” He says with finality through gritted teeth, even as every instinctual thing inside him whispers to leave you here to die, to save himself and let you be engulfed in the flames of your mistake. He circles behind you, taking a deep breath before beginning to tug at the chains, hissing as they burn the calloused skin on his hands. Despite the pain, they steadily come undone, dropping to the ground around you so you can finally take in a gasping breath.

“I told you to stay with me, didn’t I? Would it kill ya to listen for once?” Remmick snaps as he undoes the last of the chains around your legs, leaving you to stumble forward. You’re charred and covered in wounds, but now your body can finally begin to regenerate. You look a mess and you feel like one too, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you struggle just to stay standing.

Before you can even get out an apology, he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you with him. His own blood smears on your skin, the smell threatening to cloud your mind. “C’mon, or else we’ll both be fried.” His tone is low and angry and focused, telling you to save whatever you need to say for later.

You eagerly follow him, doing your best to keep up as you both run to outrace the rising warmth of morning. Panic hangs heavy around you, knowing how quickly those final minutes tick by, feeling the heat licking at your heels. Your skin threatens to begin sizzling again, sweat gleaming on your forms.

But by the grace of some cursed god, it turns out the hunters had dragged you not too far from where you and Remmick have made your home in a tiny little house hidden in the trees. It’s temporary, of course, and you’ll no doubt be moving again after tonight, but in the moment it’s like finding a blessed sanctuary in the midst of damnation. You both fly up the porch steps and burst into your home just as the sun clears the horizon line, its beams filtering through the trees while you slam the door in its face.

You fall to your knees instantly, panting and heaving like a dog as your deep injuries throb and ooze. Your whole body is shaking, weak from a pain and hunger you haven’t experienced before. You can feel the ache in your teeth, the drool that still runs down your chin despite how many times you’ve wiped it away.

Remmick is less fazed, simply shrugging off his sweat and blood soaked button up and tossing it aside, his suspenders falling loose around his hips and leaving him in his once white tank. The thin gold chain around his neck glints in the dim lighting, a twin to the gold band on his ring finger. He’s cut it close enough times in his long past that he’s familiar with the sensation of the sun at his back, but he’s been more careful with you. He makes sure to have you both fed and back with time to spare, but everything seemed to go wrong tonight. Though, he supposes the scare was probably good for you. Teach you not to wander off again.

He looks idly at his hands, at the blisters that are already beginning to fade. He’s always healed pretty fast, while you on the other hand aren’t as fortunate. The scent of your blood fills his nose, fills the room of the house. You’re both lucky his hunger was satiated earlier, otherwise he’d be on you like a leech. Even after he turned you, your blood stayed just as mouthwatering, just as delicious to something twisted inside of him. It proved to him that you were something different, something he’d been searching for without really knowing it.

“Are you upset with me?” You sniffle, quite pathetic really. But it’s been a long while since you’ve felt this much shame and embarrassment, and your body doesn’t quite know what to do with it besides force it out through tears.

Remmick stands in silence with his thoughts for a moment more before he sighs, defeated. “I ain’t angry with ya, sugar. Just worried, is all.” He turns, his steps marked by the too-soft thud of boots against hardwood. You see the toes of his shoes in your vision, but you still can’t make yourself lift your head, to look at him—so he does it for you. He crouches down, taking your face in his hand, making you meet his eyes. “Fuck, darlin’, they almost killed you.”

You can see the concern etched onto his eternally young face, the memory of seeing you chained in silver and presented like a sacrifice to the morning sun. You can’t even begin to understand the fear he’d felt; hearing all the commotion far off in the woods, hearing your screams and hoping he ran fast enough to reach you. He could smell the way your blood poured from your body, the way it burned under your confines. He’d sensed your terror too, your emotions sitting just behind his own like a second pair, locked together by a bond too ancient to be understood. You’d called out to him without your voice and he answered without a second thought.

Oh, how he’d raged seeing you against that tree, begging your captors for a quick death. Your face was covered in tears and blood, you’d looked to the horizon with a mixture of acceptance and panic, something he’s seen plenty of times before. He never should have let it happen, should have known to keep you closer, should have known you were still too young into this and got too excited over fresh meat. Hell, he didn’t even know how you managed to sneak off but he’d looked away for one damn minute and then you were gone. He’d been a fool to trust that you’d come back before a gunshot rang through the forest.

Killing those men was one of the easier things he’s done. Remmick barely even registered their deaths, the only thought in his mind being eliminating any threats to you and getting some food out of it as well. Their wards and stakes and silver bullets did nothing to deter him, they were weak and weightless—the opposite of the other hunters he’s come across, the ones with real strength. No, those men were new and ultimately inexperienced, and yet still stupidly dangerous.

He’d worry about them later. They’re dead and gone while you’re still bleeding and sniffling in front of him.

You lean into his touch like a cat, desperate for comfort. “Yer starvin’, ain’t ‘cha?” He murmurs, running his thumb along your cheek. He can see it clear as day in your gleaming eyes, the drool that won’t stop, and the way your wounds are refusing to close because you don’t have enough sustenance. You nod sadly, your head bowed while tears of frustration burn behind your eyelids. Remmick is quick to wipe them away. “Shh, don’t cry, sugar. You’ll be alright. You got food right here.”

You look at him with confusion before seeing the way he’s presented his thick forearm to you, underside up. Your eyes widen and you almost jump immediately at the opportunity, your teeth aching painfully and hunger howling within you. He nods his head towards his arm. “Go on, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let ya go hungry.”

You sit up, acting on autopilot as you grip his arm in both of your hands, your drool dripping onto his skin before your teeth sink in. Blood immediately comes to the surface of the puncture wounds, and you take every drop you’re offered. The iron-sweet tang on your tongue instantly brings out your hunger tenfold, your fangs digging even deeper into the soft skin. Remmick makes a low noise, something between a groan and a grunt, watching with satisfaction as you take from him.

It’s rare when he lets you do this. Typically there’s enough food for the both of you, enough to keep you happily satiated until the next time that primordial hunger comes knocking. But sometimes there’s nights when the hunt fails, nights like tonight when the need to feast is bad enough to kill you if it’s left too long, when you need to rely on your last resort. However, no matter what, Remmick will never let his lady go hungry.

The age of Remmick’s blood blooms in your mouth, rich with an aftertaste of ancient iron and old, hidden stories. Only people like you would know how much you can learn from someone’s blood, from the life force of their body. The whispers of the lives they led running along your tongue as you feast, the emotions they held within hopes and dreams. It’s fascinating, and it was something Remmick was eager to show you when you were first turned, teaching you the crimson stained wonders of being what he is.

You relish the feeling of his blood flowing through you, working to heal the wounds littering your body. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his fingers occasionally squeezing and letting you feel the pricks of his claws that have begun to slide from their sheaths. He keeps you there, encouraging you to take and take and take.

You eventually pull back, twisting out of his hold on you and releasing his bloody arm with a pop. Your breath comes as pants through your open mouth, blood staining your lips and teeth, the gleam having returned to your eyes. Your bites have always been cleaner than Remmick’s, less gruesome and destructive, leaving his forearm with tiny wounds that will heal quickly. The sight of red beading from them still makes you salivate but it’s easier to reel yourself in now, dragging your hunger back by a leash around its neck to keep it from going rabid. It allows your fangs and claws to be more willing to retract, your mind no longer running in restless, desperate circles around the concept of food.

You notice the way Remmick has been looking at you, full of some type of reverence mixed with relief, you think. Relief at the fact you’re not a sniveling, bleeding mess on the floor anymore, your usual shine quickly coming back. Your wounds have stitched themselves back together, bone no longer showing and just the outermost layers still being torn and burnt. It makes you feel like you can breathe again, every movement free of the horrible agony.

“C’mere.” Remmick says, voice dropping a few levels as he continues staring at your blood stained mouth. He pulls you in before you even have the chance to sit up properly, your lips meeting in a clash of tongues and teeth. He groans when he tastes his own blood on you, practically taking it from you with the way he licks you. You gasp against him as he fully invades your space, your back hitting the wooden door so that there’s nowhere else to go, his body effectively caging you in. His hands easily roam over your form, knowing every inch and detail with the precision of a man who’s explored them a hundred times before.

Hands come to rest on your waist and before you know it, you’re being hoisted up with a startled noise that Remmick quickly swallows with a kiss. His muscled biceps flex as he easily holds you against him, your legs coming to wrap around his hips and your hands gripping at his shoulders for purchase. You’re carried upstairs with a newfound urgency, Remmick kicking open the bedroom door and roughly laying you onto the soft sheets of a bed that used to belong to somebody else—before you two took over, of course.

Blood, sweat, and dirt immediately stain the covers beneath you, smearing across the fabric as you move. It’s nothing new, this happens just about every time you return from an exhilarating hunt. You both barely ever have the foresight to wash off first before climbing into bed together. Remmick follows after you, your hands resting on either side of his face to draw him in, never wanting to be apart for too long. His fingers pull at the shirt that was tucked into your pants that are too big on you, the ones you always wear on a hunt that are now ruined by the burn marks of silver chains.

His touch is always just on the side of too cold, a consequence of being undead, the same one that you suffer from. It’s something you were quick to grow used to, along with the way his temperature fluctuates depending on how much fresh blood he has coursing through him. His ring bites like ice beneath your shirt as he eases it up and over your body, tossing it somewhere into a corner to be picked up later.

“Mm, Remmick..” you mumble, your hands coming up to run through his short black hair, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. His bloody chain dangles from his sternum, hanging just above you like a taunt.

“I know, sugar.” He responds, feeling the way your legs rub together beneath him, your body quivering with anticipation. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, past the spot where he bit you all those years ago. He licks away stains of the dried blood remaining from your sealed injuries, groaning like an animal at the taste that leaves him drooling.

Saliva smears across your skin on his way down your body, stopping briefly at your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling it against his tongue and teasing it between his thankfully normal teeth as you arch into him, little breathy moans and gasps tumbling out of you. He envelops the other breast in his calloused hand, squeezing and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “So beautiful… so good fer me, sugar.” He murmurs against you, his nose nudging at the space between your breasts where more blood has dried. It doesn’t take long for him to clean it off.

He makes quick work of your pants, undoing the buttons deftly and lifting your hips to tug them free. His hands run along your thighs lovingly, goosebumps rising in his wake. He straightens, red eyes roving over your now exposed body with appreciation. Drool beads at the corners of his lips, steadily building and running down his chin while you smile at him.

“Pretty thing, all fer me.” Remmick says it like a confirmation and a vow, even though he needs none. There’s nothing that could separate you two besides a stake through the heart or the sun’s warmth. You gave yourself to him completely the day you let him bite you, let him take your life and forge it into something new, something unholy and damned.

“All yours.” You agree, stretching your arms above your head like a cat. You give him a sly grin. “Now stop teasing.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a deep chuckle leaving him, even as he hooks his fingers beneath your underwear and tugs it off. “Always impatient, huh?”

You hum as he kneels, his strong arms coming up to wrap around your thighs and settle them nicely on his wide shoulders. “I just know how good you feel. Can’t a girl be excited?”

Remmick smirks, huffing a laugh. “Shoot, I don’t see why not.”

His breath fans across your cunt, already wet and glistening with your arousal. The red in his eyes smolders like coals, burning brighter with his desire as he looks at you like you’re his next meal. He leans in, that first connection acting like lightning shooting through you, your body arching and mouth falling open. His tongue licks between your folds, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit where he toys with the bud, circling it with little flicks and pecks while you moan above him.

Remmick sucks your clit into his mouth, the rest of you immediately responding in turn as you jolt from the pleasure. He knows how to play you like his banjo, how to keep you easy and pliant while he works you to climax. He knows your body like it’s his own, the bond you share allowing him to hold a presence within you, to tell your emotions and thoughts. Most of all, he knows how you like to be licked, his tongue dipping into your hole as your noises raise a pitch.

“Remmick.. fuck-“ You moan, hands coming down to run through his hair, tugging after a particularly harsh kiss to your clit. He groans into your pussy, the sound reverberating through you as he swallows down your arousal with an eagerness he doesn’t even display during feedings. His drool makes your cunt shine, mixing with your slick to the point you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He practically buries himself into your cunt, licking and kissing and taking whatever you have to offer. His hands are like vices on your thighs, the unmistakable tips of his claws occasionally pricking your skin as they again slide from their nail beds with his excitement. You can feel the way pleasure courses through you, tightening your muscles and creating a familiar knot in your lower abdomen that will steadily build until it’s ready to come loose. It won’t be long with the way Remmick eats you like he hasn’t had a meal in years.

His nose nudges at your clit, his tongue circling your hole before slipping inside, collecting the wetness you continually drip for him. You whine loudly, pulling harder at the black strands of his hair, your thighs attempting to clench around his head. “Shit- feels so good Rem, fuck-“ You curse, falling back against the pillows, chest heaving.

You writhe under his ministrations, his hands having to move up to your hips just to keep you still, his biceps flexing against your legs. He knows how close you are so he ramps it up, licking from your center to your clit and drawing it into his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, listening to the way you call his name with a breathy gasp as he makes you cum.

It crashes over you like a wave, that knot coming undone and pleasure wracking your body. Remmick drinks it all, not letting a single drop of it go to waste as his eyes burn red. He’s quick to slip a hand between your legs, two fingers sinking into the plush heat of your pussy, his claws sheathed just for now. He pumps them in and out while you ride through your orgasm, scissoring your gummy walls to stretch you even further. He doesn’t let up, even as you grab at him to try and get him off, the attention bordering on overstimulation. He continues to kiss at your clit all the while, his fingers and his mouth bringing you straight into another orgasm that has you seeing white.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, overly sensitive and leaving your legs twitching. Remmick licks you clean with as much care and diligence a man like him can muster, his fanged teeth occasionally scraping against you and making you shudder. His fingers slip out of your warmth covered in your cum, your walls fluttering and aching at the emptiness that you know won’t last long.

He finally releases your thighs, letting them fall from his shoulders as he lifts himself from between your legs. The lower half of his face is covered in a shiny mixture of drool, cum, and blood, making him look all sorts of a mess. You couldn’t care less, knowing that no matter what he does, it’s going to be a little messy—and you love that about him.

He slowly makes his way back up your body, kissing from your clavicle to your ribs, to your breasts, and then up the column of your neck before at last reaching your lips. You’re eager to kiss him, hands tugging at his shoulders to pull him in, keeping him as close as possible. You taste yourself on his tongue, along with a familiar iron tang that has your hunger flaring again. You pull away only to lick along his chin, eagerly collecting the bloody mixture until there’s none left. Your fangs released without you even realizing.

“Yer still hungry.” He says it as a statement rather than a question, seeing the blatant craving in your dazed eyes, feeling it within himself as if it was his own. You’ve tried to subdue it all this time, not wanting to take more than you’re allowed, but it still makes your stomach clench, your teeth ache. Your body is too weak to resist the pangs, still too busy patching up whatever damage can’t be seen externally. Remmick coos at you, “c’mon, s’okay. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You begin to protest, your more human sensibility allowing guilt to take charge. “You already gave me-“

He shakes his head, silencing you. “Sugar, ya won’t last long if yer starvin’. I think I ate enough for the both of us anyhow.” You think back to all those dead hunters in that clearing, their bodies strewn along the forest floor and their blood splattered on the grass like paint. You can still smell their foreign iron-laced scents on Remmick, and it only serves to make you crave more. Drool falls down your chin, and he just smiles knowingly. His head tilts, the skin on his neck becoming taut as he bares it to you. “C’mon now.”

There’s a singular moment of hesitation, where you look into those red gleaming eyes of his for a type of confirmation, and all you find is that he’s just watching you expectantly. Well, if a meal’s going to be served to you on a silver platter like this, you’d do good to take it.

Your jaw goes slack, your teeth sharp and ready, before your body lunges up to latch onto his neck. As the first drops hit your tongue, he grunts, his form falling over yours while he wraps an arm swiftly around your waist so you can both fall back onto the bed. His other hand slams down next to your head while his blood fills your mouth and you gulp it down like there won’t be a tomorrow.

Being fed on is always jarring for Remmick, his body still not used to it after the centuries of him being the only one to feast. His neck is so much different than his arm, he realizes, something dangerous being set off within him this time as a result. But it turns out he’d do just about anything for you, so he makes himself ease into the sensation, even as his claws dig into the bedsheets and his fanged teeth grind together hard enough to shatter, the primal part of him fearing that, for once, he’s being preyed on.

“That’s it, sugar.” He says with a husky laugh. “Shit.”

Past the initial shock, it’s easy for the pain to shift into pleasure. It is quite erotic, really, the way he can feel his own blood coursing through your body. The little noises you make while you feed on him, the trickles of blood mixing with spit on your chin, your strength returning all because of him. It fills him with a twisted sense of pride, knowing that he’s the one satiating that bone deep hunger, knowing his blood is mixing with yours and becoming one inside you. “Take it all, darlin’, suck me dry.” He groans, the tips of his claws making little pinpricks in your sides as he holds onto you.

It’s almost involuntary, the way his hips rut against you, his cock straining in his pants and demanding attention. It has his hands fumbling between your bodies, eager to undo the thick buckle of his belt with a clink, the buttons of his trousers following after. You nearly choke on his blood when you feel his shaft rubbing between your folds, coating himself in the mixture of your cum and his drool. He does a few slow, experimental thrusts, not sinking in just yet but simply feeling you instead. It has you groaning against his neck, your teeth digging in deeper and greedily drinking at the ambrosia that is Remmick’s blood while he pants above you.

You release him with a sharp gasp when the head of his cock catches your entrance, at last pressing in with slippery ease. His moan is throaty and guttural, a shiver running through him at the way your walls draw him in, enveloping him in plush warmth. He sheathes himself completely and he stays with his hips flush to yours for just a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the initial pleasure. It amazes you how he never gets tired of it, even after his centuries of being alive and his years of fucking you.

You pull him back down with hands on either side of his face, encouraging him to kiss you. He does, of course, his mouth enveloping yours just as he begins to thrust, drawing almost completely from your cunt before slamming back in. His tongue roves over yours, licking away any remnants of his blood and swallowing down your moans. He pulls away with his chest heaving, a sharp groan falling from his open mouth, fangs on full display just beneath his lips.

There’s a sudden wetness against your collarbones that makes you jolt, looking down to see blood from Remmick’s neck splattered along your skin. The wound you’d bitten into him is still bleeding, droplets coming loose with his thrusts and the way he’s bent over you. He smirks, lifting two fingers and drawing them over the bite marks, collecting the blood smeared there. “Clean up yer mess, sugar.” He tells you between breathy pants, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

You take them eagerly, swirling the pads against your tongue, licking off every bit of blood and enjoying the earthly, metal taste. He watches you in awe, his eyes burning bright red in the dim lighting, full of adoration and reverence and desire. Your spit coats his fingers generously, leaving them shiny when you let go with a wet smack. He buries his head into the side of your neck with a disbelieving chuckle that quickly morphs into a moan, his hot breath fanning across your skin as your hands clutch at his bloodied white tank.

You use the opportunity to mouth at the bite on his throat like an animal, like a cat grooming its mate. You whine suddenly when he hits that spot at the top of your core, the one that has you keening and pleasure sparking like lightning beneath your skin. “Fu-fuck, Remmick-“ You mewl, claws digging into the expanse of his back, even through the tank. He growls appreciatively at the pain, at the red, angry lines undoubtedly rising along his skin and beading with blood.

Remmick nips hungrily at your neck, his hands digging harshly into your sides. He’s practically laid over top of you while he thrusts his cock deep into your throbbing pussy, keeping you as close as possible. There’s something possessive and raw about it, about the way he breathes you in, clutching at you desperately, biting you as if to prove you’re there.

“Ain’t never lettin’ you out of my sight again. Nearly fuckin’ lost ya.” He snarls with a groan, his claws digging in a little deeper at the memories of what happened just hours prior. Though your body no longer holds proof of it, he won’t forget anytime soon. He’ll chain you to him if he has to, just to make sure you’re safe.

“I- I know- I’m sorry-“ You say, moans stuttering with the way his hips slam into you, fueled by his declaration and the feral desires that howl a constant song within him. It’s not often that Remmick reveals any kind of vulnerability to you, instead letting you guess at it based on what you can gather from the bond you share. But it seems the very real idea of you bound in silver and burning brought it out of him, even if only a little.

You’re both nearing release, the pleasure burning in your core while his movements grow choppy and uneven. The noises he makes change, becoming breathy at the edges as his brows furrow, his nose nudging at your jaw. “Rem- Remmick- shit-“ You whine, feeling the way you’re so close to tumbling off the edge.

“I got ‘cha, sugar.” He says, voice rumbling right next to your ear. One hand comes between you, his calloused fingers finding your clit and swirling it in hurried circles, your mouth falling open and your eyes pinching shut as your muscles tense. His response is near instant, his free hand pinching your chin like a reminder, “nuh-uh, look at me, darlin’.”

You have no choice but to oblige him, meeting his gaze through tear stained lashes. You learned quickly how obsessed he is with seeing your face, seeing your eyes. No matter what position you’re in, he’ll make sure he can still see you or else you’ll find yourself flipped around to rectify it. You think he does it as a way to ground himself, a near impossible feat in an immortal body that’s hundreds of years old. You let him use you as an anchor, keeping him tethered here with you, two lonely souls finding company in one another.

It feels like all the breath gets knocked from your lungs as your third orgasm overtakes you. You whimper and whine and moan Remmick’s name, your hands scrabbling at him desperately. The way your cunt spasms around him makes him quick to follow after you with a loud curse, his cum hot as it paints your walls white, filling you to the brim with him. He rides out his high, emptying every last drop into you with small jerks of his hips and soft words, encouraging you to take it all.

“Fuck, sugar, yer somethin’ else.” Remmick pants, muscled chest heaving, straightening just a little to look at you in your fucked-out state. Hair wild, skin flushed, looking almost human if it weren’t for the unholy gleam in your eyes. There’s sticky trails of blood and spit all along your forms, remnants of both the hunt and your copulation. It’s made a further mess of the sheets below you, but quite frankly, you’re too tired to care.

He slowly pulls out with a groan, cum dribbling from your abused hole with his cock no longer there to keep you plugged full. You wince at the feeling, your energy spent and your body rightfully exhausted. As much as Remmick would love to keep you ruined with the reminders of what he did to you, he knows how you hate sleeping while sticky—and he needs you to be able to rest. He gently pries himself from you, even as you continuously try to wrap your arms around him again. “I’ll be right back, darlin’.” He promises, finally getting free despite your grumbling.

He gets a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water before returning. Your arms are open for him, welcoming him back into your embrace so you can feel him against you, so you can feel complete. He holds you like something precious, cleans you like you’re made of delicate glass. He wipes the blood off with no issue, his appetite blissfully satiated for now, and he’s gentle between your legs, this routine so familiar that he could do it with his eyes closed. You go limp from his touch, your body pliant beneath him. He kisses you more than once, unable to help himself when you bask so nicely in the afterglow.

When he’s finished, Remmick tosses the cloth absently into a corner somewhere, followed by his bloody tank that joins his button up on the floor to be washed later. He then settles into a non-soiled part of the bed, sitting back against the headboard and easily pulling you on top of him. You simply follow wherever his hands want you to go, more than happy to relax in his lap with your head pressed to his bare chest and his thick arms enveloping you. His scent floods your nose—sweat, iron, dirt, and old leather, making you hum appreciatively.

“My sweet girl,” Remmick murmurs against your hair, his hand running along your back in soothing lines. He pulls one of the spare quilts free and wraps it around you and you nestle into its comfort, the heavy material soft against your bare skin. You nuzzle against Remmick, too tired to resist fully giving in to those base desires for warmth and safety, knowing he’ll give you exactly that. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead. “Rest. Y’need it.”

“You’ll still be here?” You mumble, barely able to muster a sentence, eyes already beginning to shut. Sometimes there’s days when you need that extra confirmation, his promise that he won’t leave you behind, that he’ll still be waiting for you by the time you wake up. You feel his grip on you tighten, just for a moment.

“‘Course I will, sugar. I ain’t ever leavin’.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags; @vesnaragast

[eraserbread]

Husband Nanami driving and taking care of us after getting our wisdom teeth removed 👀?

so cuteeeee ٩>ᴗ<)و i needed to write this i think it healed me a lil

when nanami saw you again in the afternoon, your face was a swollen shiny rendition of the one he dropped off this morning. it was only three hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. kento's never had to see you like this, and as you nod off in his passenger seat, he's more than happy to wait until you're settled enough to drive off.

"we'll go if you're feeling okay." he's using a soft voice, privy to the fact you're still prisoner to the effects of anesthesia. nanami leans over and grabs the top of your thigh, squeezing there to let you know you're with him. either he's stupidly biased, or his wife still looks stunning with a swollen face and bloody lips. especially when you turn and pout at him, pretty eyes all glassed over and pained.

"go. go, hurts." your words are mushing into each other, leaving ken with the task of piecing them together again. he hears your pain and is so fucking quick when he turns over the engine and starts back home.

on the way back, you start to liven up again, noting passing street signs and commenting on how delicious kens arms look in his long-sleeved shirt. most of what you're saying doesn't make sense to him, but it does to you. it does just enough to get you going with tears in your eyes and conviction behind your tone.

just like when you saw two stray cats tail-in-tail through the neighborhood. ken drove by them so fast that he didn't even notice, but the sight of them made you fucking sob.

"ouh, ken, it's us." you whine, grasping at the window like you want to get out. as they fade off into the distance, you're left whining and begging him to turn around so you can take them home.

"what?" he's hardly regarding you, but his hand is still pressed to your thigh.

"the kitties - two of'em, so cute." you slur, sniffling back the promise of tears. "if you were a kitty, I know you'd protect me. you act all big n mean like a hissy kitty, then tell me I'm pretty... i jus' love you so much."

"kitties can't speak, nanami baby." he starts, just to be reasonable. then, he gives you what you want. "but, you're right. i'd find some way to call you pretty if I was a cat."

then, kento spends the next three days off of work and by your side. he spoon-feeds you soft yogurts and ice cream, completely blending your favorite meals so it's easier on your mouth. impossibly, he refrains from kissing your pouty, swollen lips. he'll just graze over your cheek in passing and still call you beautiful.

it's the least he can do after you've done so much for him. and it's caught in these stupid little moments when you don't know what you're saying, that reminds him why he chose you for a lifetime.

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[militaryapple]

I CAN BE YOUR ANTIDOTE TONIGHT ♡

synopsis. even if caleb isn't there physically, he can still make you cum.

cw. unawared voyeurism, phone sex, mutual masturbation, fem reader, he calls you princess, caleb's a creepo like ughh, nasty perverted man does nasty perverted things like watch you jerk off

add ons. big thanks to gracie poo for getting me out this slump </3 @rcvcgers . this wasn't proofread sorry my grammar goats ily I'll edit if I read and see mistakes

wc. 1.9k

it hadn't been long since you left skyhaven to go back home to linkon. it also hadn't been long since caleb had hired someone to break into your home and set up cameras around your house. okay, fine, he admits that he was probably breaking major laws but sometimes good people have to do bad things to protect the ones they love. he just.. so happen to be one of those good people.

at least that's what he told himself.

he watched you about 4 hours a day, watching your scheduled routine as many other monitors flooded his vision. it was fine. he was used to soaking in information just by a glance, so it wasn't stressful. it was one of the many skills he thanked himself for learning. he could multitask; be at work and watch you.

"I need, hah, to finish writing this report - hn" he would mutter to himself as he watched you through his big monitor, his cock twitching as he oh so gently rubbed his tip through his pants. okay. so what if he was hard from just watching you? it was out of his control. it really was. he watched as the live feed showed you rubbing yourself through your panties. how you shuffled to make yourself feel good.

it was truly unprofessional. he needed to turn off his monitor, think about something else and get back to work.. but he just couldn't. not when you spread your legs so widely, almost invitingly. how you fondled your tits while you whined and begged for him like a dog. oh how he wished he could be there to help you, to touch you. yet he was sitting down, in his office, practically palming himself while watching you through hidden camera's.

he was such a pervert.

it wasn't until caleb had heard his phone ring, annoyed he turned it to see who was calling. his frown soon turning into surprise as he lowered the volume to 0 on his monitor and picked up the surprising call, his eyes darting from the screen back to the phone.

he watched as you tried to steady your breath, how your hands slipped through the waistline of your panties, how you placed your phone down on the bed. face straight into your pillow. he couldn't help but smile, it was cute. what a show you were putting on for him.

"hey pip-squeak. what's the matter?" he said trying to sound as normal as possible. it was hard trying not to moan while watching you fuck yourself on the phone with him. how nasty you were.

"caleb!" you moaned, your breath heavy as you covered your mouth occasionally. "I um- I missed you. I just wanted to hear how your day was going." you sounded frantic - erratic even. your words fast and slurred, hushed. he couldn't help but hold in a chuckle. oh how cute you were.

"my day's good." he said, his hand swirling around the slit of his leaking tip. fuck, he would have to clean his uniform later. "I have a meeting to go to, pips. I'll call you after -" he was quickly silenced by the hurried "no"'s that fell out of your mouth. he smirked, did you want to hear his voice that badly you would jerk off to just hearing him talk about business? how desperate were you?

he looked back to the monitor, how your eyes puffed with tears, how good he was making you feel without having to even try. it could only make his cock twitch.

"hm? is something wrong? you sound a little hurried there." he teased, seeing your teeth impale your lip. "everything's... 'kay here." you couldn't even finish a full sentence. do you think he was that stupid? if he didn't have his monitor or cameras you would still be easy to figure out. the thought alone made him hungry for you.

"really? doesn't sound like it. what are you doing?" he asked oh so innocently. he watched as your hands pulled out of your panties, taking one of your pillows and putting it between your legs, rutting like some dog in heat. caleb tugged on his pants, now bringing his cock out fully. he moved his hand swiftly, listening for the click of his office door and the id lock power to his face only. good. no disturbances.

"pips? c'mon tell me. what are you up to." his voice beginning to shake as he fisted himself. oh the view of you was so so good. you were gorgeous even. he should be there, touching you and feeling you. making you cry and beg for more. how hands should be all of you, his hands pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt. fuck fuck he needed to get off work. the trip to skyhaven to linkon is only 2 hours. he'd gladly take the 2 hours if it meant seeing you, tasting you.

"I - I've 'missed you caleb" you whined out, practically moaning for him. "I needed to hear your voice again. please you make me feel good." you were practically begging for him. and from the look at his monitor he could even see tears roll down your cheek. he couldn't say no to you, the files could wait and he could skip one meeting. you asked so nicely, who was he to say no? he wasn't cruel.

"okay then princess, since you asked me so nicely." he coo'd softly. "stop whatever your doing and just feel yourself." he watched you listen. you didn't question him, why would you? you moved the pillow away your hands dancing around your body. oh fuck, caleb wanted to cum but he couldn't. he needed to hold out for his baby of course.

"feels nice, right? 'need you to touch your tits for me. don't be so harsh with them, gently. rub them, show them the love i'd show them. you can do that right princess?" your hands sliding in your sports bra, oh did it feel good. how you imagined how it was his fingers pinching at your swollen nipples. caleb groaned at the sigh. the sound of him making you shudder.

caleb soaked up the view, "alright, now slowly, make your way to your cunt. not so fast - just a feel around your panties, yeah?” he coo’d. oh how you missed him, his hands, his warmth. you needed him. you whined and in return he let out a grunt.

he couldn’t help but watch as you wrecked yourself, how you imagined he was there. touching you, making you feel good oh god how good he could make you feel. he could touch you in all the right places - all the places that needed to be adored and appreciated for. you were beautiful. “i know baby. slip your panties over, small circles alright?”

you nodded with hums, okay’s, “mhm”s and pants. your legs twitching and body bucking forward. your whines for caleb becoming needier and needier. “i need you caleb , please i need you so badly.” your hands rubbing around your slit. he was trying. oh how he wanted to be with you. it’s fine. the papers could wait - the meetings could wait. it was one meeting he could skip, pleasing you was more important.

you were drenched. he could see your panties soaked, going down your legs as you lifted your legs for a better feeling , god were you ready. “okay okay, one finger in - ” you moved your hand lower, slipping one finger inside your cunt, groaning and twitching. “i know baby, ‘cmon in and out. i know you can do it, find a rhythm” and you did. in and out , in and out “add another.” oh were you fucking soaked.

caleb watched as you fucked yourself; how you imagined your small fingers was his. how it was his hands going in and out of you. pumping you. making you feel so good. you couldn’t help but cry out for him, making him fist his cock faster. he wished he was there with you. you could take him so nicely. your throbbing cunt molding into the shape of his cock. how he would slide in and out of you.

he knew your fingers weren’t just enough. how they couldn’t compare to his thick hands, and how he touched you. how he kissed every single part of your body, making sure that your cunt felt appreciated. why couldn’t you have moved to skyhaven? it was nice, safe, closer. you would be closer. you could be loved and touched all you wanted - when you asked. when you needed him so desperately like you needed him now. caleb moaned as he watched you become a mess.

you lifted your legs up a bit, so you could reach further. you whined as caleb watched you, exploring your body with his eyes. “add another one for me baby.” you nodded - sounds of “mhm”s and “okay”s. you slip another finger inside yourself, hips bucking upwards as your hands pumped into your cunt faster.

“caleb — caleb please ‘m gonna cum. can i? please let me cum please.” you begged him. “yeah? cum for me baby, ‘cmon you can do it. use your other hand and ride it out.” he watched as you spread your legs, rubbing and pumping. your face fucked and dazed - oh how much of a perfect mess you were. a mess he made. your sounds making his cock twitch as he met your pace. the sound of you two panting and moaning like dogs for each other.

you cried out for him, your body shaking and quivering , making caleb almost proud. “i know baby, i know, i know. you’re doing so good for me princess, you sound so so good.” he coos. how pretty you were like this, a show just for him without you knowing. knowing that he was watching your every touch, gasp and quiver. he just cum by looking at you.

caleb jerked his hips forward, grunting. fuck he was close too. he thought about your touch, how he would be deep inside you. his cock buried deep inside your cunt, molding your shape into his. how you would need him to please you over and over again because your fingers just won’t do. he thought about where he would cum on you, your soft tits, your stomach, your pretty ‘lil face.

it didn’t matter, he knew where he would cum in. he would be hitting every spot in you, your walls clenching on his cock while you begged for him. he would fill you up to the brim, making you drip with his load. how perfect you’d feel around him.

that’s where his cum needed to be, that’s where it deserved to be, where it belonged. buried deep inside of you.

it didn’t take long until both of you were groaning with pleasure, the silence after you both made a mess. caleb reassuring how well you did for him and how beautiful you looked. you thought it was weird on how you two were on the phone and he couldn’t see you but you ignored it.

caleb hung up after telling you to get some rest and he’d see you when he went back to linkon. looking at his desk.

fuck, he was going to need a new monitor.

[blondieeu]

early bird. katsuki b.

katsuki knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew your preferences, style, personality, even memorized your social security number since you always forgot it. he’d lived with you for damn near 5 years now.

“katsuki”

so when you wake him up in the late hours of the night, all needy and pent up he shouldn’t be surprised, he doesn’t even bother getting angry at you because you always tended to get needy in the night.

you shook him softly, his back turned to you as you tried to wake him. his body rising and falling with quiet snores that became irregular when you shook him.

“katsuki?”

“mm”

“katsuki!”

“what’s wrong”

he didn’t even bother opening his eyes, still laying there like a rock as he waiting for a response from you.

“can we fuck? please katsuki”

the male sighed and lazily grabbed his phone from the nightstand, squinting hard just to see the time. 2:06AM.

“you can’t sleep?”

the silence in the air already told him the answer, katsuki didn’t bother to keep questioning you as he began to shuffle out of his boxers.

“take your panties off.”

he muttered, helping you on your back and pulling the green underwear off your ankles, not without noticing the wet part on the middle of them and giving you a ‘you needed me that bad?’ look. he put your hand around his cock gesturing for you too put it in since he was too tired to find the hole.

bakugou moaned as he settled himself into your sopping cunny, strong hands almost making dents in the headboard as he rocked his hips into yours and watching your slick create thin strings between you and him.

your legs were loose around his waist, toes curling everytime he let himself go deep with your hands touching at his chest and stomach.

“shit.. pussy make me wan’ give you a fuckin’ baby.”

he grunted the words out with a small shake in his voice, like he was trying to hold back a couple moans. he tiredly let his head fall in between his strong, well built arms that held the headboard as he looked down at your face, eyes teary and mouth half opened while you clenched around his cock.

katsuki sat up from his position with hard-to-silence heaves to pull the black wife beater he had on over his head and throw it somewhere across the room as his body temperature started to rise.

he secured his position by grabbing onto your sides so he could fuck you harder. needy moans filled the warm room along with the quiet sound of skin connecting. you could’ve sworn that you went mute every couple of minutes from the surges of pleasure he was feeding into your cunny. wait could you hear how wet you were?

your long time boyfriend gave a lazy smile as he leaned down to make out with you as an attempt to get you quiet so you could her your cunny talk to him as well. quiet squelching could be heard if you really did listen in detail.

“hear her singin’ ? s’ all you—…shit girl..gets this bad at night?”

your pretty eyes were rolling as you tried your best to nod, barely even hearing him while you were concentrated on not cumming too fast and trying not to squirt since you knew you forgot towels. still, loud pornographic moans bounced off of your bedroom walls.

“y..es..kat-suki..”

“alright. ima take care of it baby”

a/n: i refuse to write a whole smutshot!!!!!

aizawa ver

blondieeu xx