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bunnys-kisses · 4 months

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bear den (2)

bear!john price

cw: hybrid au, bear!price, bunny!reader, pregnancy, smut/pwp, scenting, protective!price, couch sex, mating press, mentions of childbirth

part 1

as the snow melted off the roof, the promise of spring was upon you. price was as cuddly as ever. his large hand on your growing belly and his nose in the nape of your neck.

your bear lover, you'd consider him your husband without all the paperwork. he was a protective lover, he cared for you very deeply. even when he was half asleep as winter started to melt away.

it was morning in march when you got out of bed and scampered over to the shower. as much as you loved price, he was a messy lover. his cum was still stuck in your hair. he said it was in an effort to 'mark' you as if the growing cub wasn't enough proof.

you stood naked by the tub as you waited for the water to warm up. you caught a glimpse of your side profile in the mirror and looked at yourself curiously. it wasn't as if you had never seen yourself in the mirror before, but rather the changes to your body were already settling in. you straightened up a little and rubbed your slowly swelling middle.

your eyes cast down to your bump as you rubbed it gently. sometimes you couldn't believe that there was price's child inside of you. it made you smile to yourself before you got into the shower.

the warm water felt good against your body as you stood under the spray. despite how isolated the cabin was, it was home. price had completely renovated his den, everything still had a charm to it but nothing was falling apart.

you washed yourself, using his soap. you got under your pregnant belly and heard the door to the bathroom open. you peeked through the curtain and saw your mate. you smiled at him, "good morning, honey."

he nodded, he seemed a little more lucid, "let me help." he was naked already, you could see every inch of your lover. from the hair that coated him, to his built body with a bit of softness to it. his broad shoulders and scratchy facial hair.

"i can do it myself, john."

he shook his head as he got into the shower. he made a pleased noise when a bit of the warm water hit him. he stood under the spray of water with both hands on your belly from behind. "you look good." he said as his thumb rubbed the side.

"i'm only going to get more pregnant with time." you replied.

he kissed your wet hair and replied, "good." you felt his cock start to stiffen against your back. he took the bar of soap from you and started to wash your back. while he was cleaning the front of you (that you already cleaned) he got a good squeeze of your breasts.

"john!'

"sorry, love. can't help it." he purred. when he finished washing you, you washed him. you were turned to face him and his hands were on your bump as you ran the bar across his hairy chest.

you loved his body as much as he loved yours. he was so strong but still able to cuddle him. the hair on his chest and stomach, across his arms and down his legs left you feeling tingly all over. this was your husband, your mate, your lover.

he leaned down do you could wash his hair. and he did the same for you, once you were done your shower and out of the tub. he pinned you against the sink counter. his nose dipped into your neck and rubbed his cheek against the skin.

"john!"

"gotta get my scent on you."

you held onto the sink behind you and replied, "you possessive old man."

he replied, "gotta be. little bunnies like you can get into a life of trouble." he kissed your neck all the way to your cheek before he settled on your lips. his calloused, workman's hands touched your torso.

you giggled into the kiss and when he pulled away he gave you a short nod before he dried the both of you off. now that you were clean, it was time to get dirty again.

usually your place for mating was in the bedroom, it reeked of hibernation scent and your love making. you knew it would take a lot of washing of the entire room before it scent wasn't so overwhelming. but instead he made love to you on the old couch in the living room.

you were seated on the soft cushions, price pulled you legs up and closer to your head, exposing your cunt to him. a perfect angle for him to sink his cock into. it was a little odd due to your pregnancy, but when price slipped in with ease. you felt the stars behind your eyes.

"that's it. that's my baby girl." his voice was low and his pace methodical. he knew how much stronger he was compared to you. bears and bunnies often didn't mingle, so john had to be gentle with you.

his bear ears gave a small twitch when he felt his cock throb inside of you. your pussy was a tight heat around him that made him so thankful that you snuck into his cabin. he gave you a home and he into turn made your pussy his home.

he admired your body, he watched those little bunny ears twitch. he smiled down at you, "like that? knowin' how deep i am inside of you. knowin' that i bred and kept ya? soon you'll be chasin' a cub around our little home."

you had your hands on your belly as he thrusted into you. you felt heat bloom in your chest. you admired your lover over you, you watched how his body moved and it made the pleasure seep into your blood.

"i love you."

"i love you too." he replied, his voice full of warmth as he held onto your legs for support. he squished you a little in the press he had you in, but it felt really good.

price loved having you in a good mating press. where he could put his weight onto you, show how strong he was as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

his breathing was heavy as he continued to thrust into you. you could see the rise and fall of his chest as he moved. the air of the living room grew warmer with your love making. you felt like you were on another planet, the pleasure throbbed in your head the more it built.

you held onto the couch under you and your eyes closed for a moment as you tried to catch you breath. the sounds of sex filled the entire cabin as a bunny and her mate made love on the threadbare couch.

this was their home, their slice of paradise. you reached for him and leaned up to kiss him. he met you half way with a curve of his back and pressed a searing kiss onto your lips. his kisses were promises, he would never turn his back on his mate.

you were bound together until the sun engulfed the earth. husband and wife, bear and bunny.

the ache in your pussy felt good, your head swam with pleasure. you held onto your lover as he kissed you deeply. heat set into your gut. your pussy so exposed to him. you gave yourself over to him, as his mate and let him breed you.

when he pulled away he said, "you're my good girl aren't ya." he kissed at your sweaty face, "my good wife. my good mate. the mother to my cubs. perfect woman." he beamed at you.

it didn't take long afterwards for the heat of orgasm to wash over you. you kicked out your little bunny legs and tensed up as you came around his cock. a noise left price's mouth as you clamped down on him. it was guttural, primal in a way. you dug your nails into his shoulders as you climaxed.

your head felt even more full as started to relax. but price kept you in position and continued to batter your pussy. the grip it had on you was amazing. it left him in a state of shock. with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you.

"ah fuck." he grumbled as his pace staggered and slowed down.

you laid there on the couch, your legs were soon back on the hardwood floor. price's cum leaked onto the fabric of the couch. but you were lost in your own wonderland to notice it.

price stared down at you, cock limp between his legs. his breathing was shallow as he tried to cool down. the bear picked up his bunny lover with ease, and placed kisses on your face. you fit so nicely in his strong arms as he carried you back to bed.

after all he needed to make sure that his scent was deep in your skin that no shower could ever get rid of it. he stuck his nose in your wet hair and inhaled deeply.

his mate. his lover. his everything.

on august tenth, in the comfort of your cabin. you gave birth to your first child. with a lot of support from your husband, you had your son, oliver. he had two round bear ears and the brown bear tail of his father. it took over ten hours to deliver him.

"i got ya love, keep at it." price assured you as your labour went well into the evening. but the end result was your son.

you spent all spring and summer pregnant with him. and now he was in your arms. you saw how price admired your body post-pregnancy. the softness of your bottom and post partum tummy. he also admired how you were so attentive to his son.

while he did most of the work around the garden and caught (full) animals for meals, your responsibility was to make sure that you healed from the nine months of pregnancy and caring for your newborn son.

while he tended to vegetable patch, he often got distracted by the sight of you in the reclining lawn chair with oliver close to your chest. the baby was wrapped in a thin blanket and pressed against your bare chest. you were still nude more days, but when you dressed it was mostly in price's clothes.

he watched as you gazed at your son. it was so motherly. it was endearing to price was getting a little harder in his coveralls. he had a family, he started on with the bunny who came into his home.

there was one thing he noticed post-pregnancy about you. it wasn't how hungry you were or how your body had changed. it was that his scent lingered, you no longer smelled like the intruder bunny who snuck into his cabin.

you smelt like him through and through.

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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hello vivi!

would it be ok if you did a norlestappen or a lando and max poly - I really don't mind what kind just maybe not angst - I would love some fluff though! thank - you so much :)

i call this sleepies

"Where are they?" Max asked Charles.

They were supposed to meet outside of the McLaren garage so that the three of them could leave together. Max was there first, always the first to want to leave and Charles was there just after him.

But she and Lando were nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think they're still inside?" Charles asked, nodding his head towards the garage.

"They have to be," Max answered, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialled Lando's number and pressed his phone to his ear.

He didn't know that Lando was asleep. He didn't know that Lando was so deep in sleep that nothing was going to wake him up. He didn't know that she was with him, too, curled up against him as they slept in the two small chair.

When he didn't respond, Max put his phone down. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

Charles already had his phone out, already had it pressed to his ear. He looked at Max as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up. But they didn't and he put the phone down. "She didn't pick up, either."

They looked towards the McLaren garage. The den of papaya (instead of den of vipers, get it?). They had no choice but to go inside.

The two non McLaren drivers sucked in a breath and headed inside. They asked all of the McLaren staff if they had seen their loves. The first few they asked shook their heads. They had no idea where to find Lando and their girl.

But then someone had an answer. "I saw them sleeping on the couch," she said and quite literally pointed them in the right direction.

And that was where they found them, sleeping on the couch. Lando was upright and she was on his lap. Her head was against his chest and his head was against her own. Her hand was gripping his shirt, curled into fists.

"Look at them," Charles said, wearing a small smile as he sighed. "They're just..."

"Adorable, I know," Max answered. His arm was around Charles's waist as they looked at the pair. "But his back is gonna kill for the race tomorrow."

"Meaning an easier win for the both of us," Charles reasoned. "But we love them and we don't want him to get a bad back."

"We're definitely not just moving them because we want to cuddle them," Max said with a nod.

"Nope, this is for them."

"Not our selfish reasons."

Max picked her up. He kissed her head and scooped her into his arms. Her head was immediately against his chest and she let out a whine, but she didn't wake up.

Charles tried to pick up Lando. The most important word in that sentence was tried. Because he definitely failed. He almost immediately dropped Lando, waking the poor boy. "Fuck, cha!" He cried.

"Lando!" Charles hissed and held his finger to his lips.

Lando glared at him, but then he looked past him, at the girl sleeping in Lando's arms. She stirred and everybody stilled. But, when she didn't wake up, they let out a collective breath. "Should we get her home?" He whispered as Charles helped him off the floor.

"We were thinking the exact same thing, baby boy."

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.

Even the drinks are licentious.

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably bourbon.”

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.

“Like, the mafia?”

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.

The 141.

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.

Which way?

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.

Is this the bathroom?

It must be.

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-

rips.

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.

He has a gun.

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.

Obviously, you’re interrupting something.

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.

“We are now.”

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MESSY — GETO SUGURU.

contents. gn! reader, minors do not interact, hand + blowjobs, suguru manspreading bc he’s a whore, reader is teasing (and suguru shuts it down LOL), cum swallowing, not proof read i am too lazy

when suguru sits like that—legs spread out and arm resting against the back of the couch, you wonder for a moment if something is wrong with you.

how does someone simply sitting get you this riled up?

suguru seems to know what he’s doing too, doesn’t even blink when you boldly drop to your knees between his legs, doesn’t even question it when your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and boxers as you look up at him pleadingly.

he grins, spreads his legs impossibly wider, lifts his hips up a bit so you can tug his pants down his hips and pool at his ankles. he’s half hard already—what a jerk, you think. he knows what he’s doing, always does. always knows how to make you give him what he wants willingly, without him even asking. in fact, he’s so good at getting what he wants, he convinces you it’s what you want too.

and right now, you really fucking want to taste his cock.

“this is a nice surprise,” he hums, “not that i’m complaining.”

“yeah,” you snort, running your thumb along his slit and collecting that small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, “you’re very clearly not complaining.”

he doesn’t even attempt to look embarrassed—just flashes you that grin accompanied by that chuckle all while he keeps an arm slung over the back of the couch. he looks good. it’s aggravating. it’s rewarding. it’s magnetizing. it’s everything all at once.

and fuck—you really, really need his cock in your mouth.

“mm, feels good, baby,” he sighs lowly when your hand smears the sticky pre cum along his hardened length, stroking slowly as his head falls back.

it’s blissed out, the look on his face. you’re barely even doing anything, too. you think for a moment that suguru might just have wanted this for a while now, that he had you trekking into the lion’s den without even so much as a plan.

all he had to do was sit, spread his legs a little, and exist as he is. the rest handles itself.

you decide in a moment that for once, suguru will have to ask—will have to tell you what he wants. you’ll make him, if you have to.

“yeah?” you whisper, leaning in and kissing his tip softly.

he twitches at that, in his cock and in his thigh and even in his upper body. it’s like the tingle that press of your lips leaves shoots up his spine into every nerve of his body. his breath hitches as he nods, closing his eyes and groaning when your tongue traces along the underside of his cock, right along that thick vein.

“yeah,” he breathes, the rise and fall of his chest a little more erratic now, “yeah that’s good. need more, though.”

“but suguru,” you hum, kissing his inner thigh. he bites back a whine when you leave his throbbing hard-on unattended, choosing to suck on the sensitive skin along his thighs instead. “see, you didn’t ask me to do this did you?” you blink up at him sweetly, watching as he gulps.

“no,” he grunts, clenching his jaw when your fingers traces his heavy balls, circling around them before cupping them softly. he moans as soon as you apply the slightest bit of pressure.

“exactly,” you say, “so that means i’m offering. you’re supposed to take what i give and be grateful.”

he doesn’t like that—the twitch of his eyebrows tells you that much. he looks down at you with a frown and his mouth opens to protest—but you have his dick in your reach, so he doesn’t get very far before you squeeze around the thick girth and make his head fall back down with a groan.

“f-fuck,” he gasps, thighs twitching as you toy with the tip, wrapping your fist around it as you squeeze. “f-fuck, need more, baby. c’mon,” he pleads.

“say please, sugu,” you bat your lashes. he raises his head and looks at you incredulously—you squeeze tighter around his tip, almost until it’s painful before he whimpers softly.

“fuck—kay, fine,” he grits, “please, baby?”

“please what?”

“are you seriously asking me what—ngh, sh-shit,” he rasps, cutting himself off as he bites his lip when you sink your teeth into his flesh again, marking that beautiful, flawless skin along his inner thighs with proof that he’s yours.

“tell me what you want, suguru,” you hum, rubbing his tense thigh soothingly, “humor me.”

“alright then,” he says lowly—the room is hot, the beads of sweat in his eyebrows gives it away. he takes his shirt off, pulling it over his head and tossing it somewhere before he’s laying his head back against the couch. “i want you to fuck me with your pretty little mouth, and i want you to make me cum. think you can do that, or am i gonna have to use that mouth myself?”

it’s like a challenge, the way he asks you. he’s not the slightest bit ashamed of his request, but you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

you should’ve known by now—what suguru wants, he always gets. whether he asks or not is entirely up to him. he decides to indulge you this time, it seems.

but next time, he might not be so generous.

“i always make you cum,” you huff. he chuckles—it’s that low, baritone ring that you love so much, sending a dull ache between your own legs.

“that’s true,” he agrees, setting a hand on your head. “you do always make me cum. what a sweet thing,” he hums, “why don’t you do it one more time?”

so you do. you wrap your lips around his flushed tip, swirling your tongue and gliding through his slit before taking him in your mouth until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. he moans, hand on your head pushing you down just a slight bit more.

you can take more—you always take more.

you bob your head, letting your tongue press over that vein again as you fuck him with your mouth. it’s warm, it’s wet, it’s perfect and it’s all you—only you can ever make him feel this good.

he’s panting now, strings of broken curses and soft sighs of your name leaving his lips like they’ve been waiting for the chance to come out. his forehead is glistening with sweat, the messy clump of bangs sticking to his skin as he scrunches up his eyes and lets his mouth part for a low, drawn out groan.

“th-that’s it, baby,” he says through sharp gasps, “like that. feels so good when you do that.”

your hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth, moving to his balls every now and then to fondle them as he snaps his hips up and ruts into your mouth. your lips glisten with a mix of his pre cum and your spit, and suguru thinks for a moment, in that split second that he opens his eyes and looks at you, that he’d give anything to kiss that messy little mouth of yours as you take him so well.

“should see yourself,” he mutters, “lookin’ so perfect for me. so messy.”

his knuckles are white, gripping the cushion of the couch tightly as he feels himself near closer and closer to falling off the edge, closer and closer to cumming right down your throat where he belongs.

“can’t even sit in peace,” he chuckles through breathy pants, “you’re jumping me every chance you get.”

you glare up at him, cupping his balls and squeezing tightly in response and making him gasp as his hips buck upwards, a low moan falling from that talkative mouth of his before you feel his cock twitch.

he’s close, so you bob your head over his length faster, humming around him to let the low vibrations push him over the edge. and it does—suguru cums with a choked ‘m cumming, baby before he gifts you with those breathy gasps you love so much, music to your ears as he fills your mouth and paints it white with thick, hot ropes of his release.

he fucks up into your mouth, riding out every wave of pleasure as drops of cum dribble from the sides of your lips, his mouth parted wide and his eyes shut tightly as his orgasm crashes over his body in tidal waves.

“baby,” he gasps, “fuck—‘s good. feels good,” you can hear him repeat the words faintly, focusing on swallowing every drop he spills onto your tongue.

and then he slumps, chest heaving in harsh breaths as you pop off of him, swallowing what’s left and staring up at him with wet lashes and glossy lips.

“you’re a mess too,” you giggle, eyeing his sweaty skin and messy bun and hazy eyes.

he cups your cheek, collects the trail of cum on the side of your mouth and pushes is back onto your tongue before leaning down and kissing you deeply, groaning lowly against your lips as he tastes himself.

“i think we can make a bigger mess,” he grins against your mouth, pulling you up gently to climb over and straddle his hips.

i started this at 4 am very horny for him. but then i got tired and i passed out and now it’s 3 pm and still i’m just as horny for him. being in love with geto suguru feels like being a teenage dude who’s chronically got a raging boner 24/7

also this is inspired by this:

look at my whore guys. my little mass murderer by day and slut in the sheets by night

#thirstee!#teepods.writings #thirsts.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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hellenhighwater · 1 month

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So, every animal shelter around me is heinously overloaded/understaffed and begging for fosters. I am considering applying to be one for a momma cat with kittens, but I don't know if I have enough space/time/energy to do so and don't know anyone I can ask IRL about the experience. Are you willing to go into detail about what exactly foster duty entails? Also, do the fosters coexist peacefully with Malice and Vice or do you need to keep them separated?

Fostering can be a relatively small time investment, or it can be a big one. Nearly every shelter hits capacity in the warm months, due to the overwhelming quantity of kittens.

I talked to my local shelter and explained that I don't have a ton of time to work with--I can't take neonatal kittens, or ones that need regular hand feeding, or basically anyone medically fragile. But I can take litters that are doing well, who just need time and space to grow big enough to hit the minimum weight to be spayed/neutered and adopted. On a daily basis, I swap out water, food, and clean litter, plus general tidying-up as needed. That takes maaaybe half an hour to an hour--most days I do it before work. Because most of my litters have moms, the moms do a lot of the work of feeding and cleaning the babies! They may need bathing sometimes, depending on how much of a mess they make. Beyond that, I try to spend time with them as much as I can--I'll go in and eat my meals with them, sit and do digital work, or watch movies while I do projects with them around. The goal is to socialize and handle them as much as you can.

Kittens generally litter train themselves, but accidents happen when they're little, so a space with easily cleaned floors is ideal. I start my fosters out in a jumbo sized dog crate, allowing for supervised time outside of that, and then eventually give them my whole den to run around in when they're old enough to be more independently mobile (basically when they're old enough to realize that losing sight of their mom does not mean they're lost forever, and can navigate the space on their own.) I do keep Mal and Vice out of the den when I have fosters, but there's a glass door so theycan see each other.

Most shelters with foster programs will supply everything you need for them in terms of food, meds, and litter--you just give them space and time. I got my own jumbo dog crate to use, and I pick up secondhand towels for cheap--that gives me something easy to wash for them to sleep on. If you're just getting started, a shelter can probably find you an "easy" litter to begin with. Not that there's ever a 100% guarantee, because kittens are fragile, but usually they can set up a litter that seems strong. At least for me, there's an urge to play the hero and take on too much--I have to be careful, and accept that I only have so much time to work with; I have to say no to some of the more tiny, delicate kittens, and leave them to be fostered by those who can handle them. Those people are awesome and I'm not one of them.

If you're setting up space for fosters, I'd choose a place that's easy to clean, that's not going to leave them vulnerable to being bothered by other animals or kids all the time (they sleep a lot), and which allows for you to spend time with them. You can keep your fosters in a large dog crate or other kennel--honestly, it's comparable to how the shelter would house them--or in a room you have set up to handle them, but I'd hesitate to give them complete free run of your place unless you live somewhere quite small. Kittens are fast, and you really don't want to lose one. I remove rugs and less durable furniture from their space as well, and sometimes will cover the couch in a thick blanket to reduce claw marks.

Overall, I think it's totally worth it. It's fun to get to have them through the baby days, and they have more individualized attention in a home than they would get at the shelter. It's worth trying! If it doesn't pan out--or if they start needing more attention than you can give--you can give them back, but in the meanwhile they have a more enjoyable home than a shelter.

#no shade to the shelter they're doing their best #anyone else who's fostered is welcome to give their two cents

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swagging-back-to · 2 years

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roomates keep leaving chocolate out and about finna have some strong words

#they were like 'get a kennel'#she shouldnt need to be put in a kennel everytime i steo out of the room because i dont know if they stashed #chocolate candies and pills and shit all over the place #but i might get one for my other rat dog. she always goes under the couch so i think shes one of those dogs that feels way safer in a den #she mightve been in a crate at the puppymill idk

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quizzicalwriter · 11 months

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dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

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