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#he's like a puppy in the middle of big cats
inkskinned · 2 years
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i keep thinking about the number of parrots and mimicking birds that say love you! as part of their vocabulary. how often they must hear that in order to learn it as a song.
when i was a child and learning how to train dogs, we were warned against using puppy too much around the dog - it might get confused and think the word puppy was a name. we were supposed to use mostly command words - keep it simple and clear.
but when my dog is in the middle of a nightmare, i say i love you to him, and he calms down. i say i love you! and he starts wiggling, delighted. when i first rescued him, i love you got no reaction. he understood i love you! before he understood what stairs are. the first thing i ever trained him to understand, maybe, before even his name: i love you.
my sister used to say i love you! and her cat would come running. he knew his name, too, but her voice saying i love you was enough.
there's some debate about how many words our pets understand. maybe they understand the tone more than the actual word. science almost always seems to be coming out with new exciting information about just how much animals can learn and understand language. it often more seems that the only true barrier is that we don't understand them when they answer back.
goblin doesn't know it yet, but for the last 3 days, i've been telling him about the new bed i bought him. i had to save for a while in order to afford it - but it's specifically for big dogs like him, and (supposedly) won't flatten out after 6 months. it was twice as expensive as my own mattress, and i'm way-too-excited to give it to him. i keep reading him the stats - it says it'll help any joint pain! and one more sleep until it comes! he wiggles in joy at the tone in my voice, this thing i know i'm not really communicating, but something he seems to understand-anyway.
as of 7:30 AM today, the new bed is on the way. goblin is asleep on my couch, happily snoring. the truck is two towns over. i keep refreshing the delivery updates.
something about telling these creatures in our lives i love you, even knowing they can't understand exactly. even knowing each word in that phrase holds a concept maybe-outside of real communication's possibilities - to understand "i/you", to understand love, to understand holding love and passing it through you into something else. knowing, really, we've probably trained them with this phrase comes petting. and then saying it, over and over and over through the little lonely hours of our day.
hoping, with repetition and action and practice: we'll find a way to tell them anyway.
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comfortless · 5 days
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dog hybrid recruit König thots??
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.
He’s the one that was never picked.
So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.
His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.
This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.
The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.
If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.
“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.
König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.
When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.
König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.
If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”
“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”
He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.
“Richtig… Then let’s go.”
Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.
The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.
König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.
It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.
When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.
You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.
He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.
“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.
When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.
Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.
“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.
Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…
“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.
König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.
“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.
“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…
Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.
“I killed my last handler.”
“Did you…?”
“Ja.”
That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.
His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.
And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.
There’s only a wounded soldier here.
A good boy.
Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.
You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.
“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”
He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.
The following morning is different.
There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.
He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.
You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.
It would be a walk tonight.
Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…
König.
Your König.
The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.
No apologies, but this was something better.
“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.
You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.
“The best boy,” you tell him.
“I have a present for you too.”
No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.
It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.
“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.
Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.
So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.
The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”
The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.
“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.
“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.
“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.
“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”
“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”
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bratfiction · 3 months
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CAT NAP | SIMON RILEY
(✉️ᝰ.ᐟ♥︎) 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯𝐸𝒟 — We need more hybrid!reader !!! Wether it be kitty or puppy is up to you, but hybrid!reader x 141 or just x who ever you choose [AO3 LINK]
WORD COUNT… 2.1k WARNINGS… 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. hybrid + kitty!reader, petnames [kitty, kitten, pet], daddy-dom/owner!simon, scent kink, mentions of prior neglect, mentions of murder, fingering [r. receiving], use of kittycunt, breeding kink.
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You’re curled up in bed. Simon would be lying if he said he was surprised. He scoffs over your slumbering form, eyes trailing down to your soft tummy and cute undies that have been exposed due to your tossing and turning. Curling and uncurling yourself into the sheets that smell just like him— he’ll never understand that this bed is your own personal heaven. And wearing one of his shirts while you take your naps makes it even more divine. 
“Sleepy kitty,” Simon mutters softly, words coming out as affectionately as they possibly can. He brings a heavy hand to rub the top of your head, right between your fluffy ears, and he revels in the startled but satisfied purr that vibrates your frame. 
It seems the gentle touch has triggered something in you as you roll over, throwing your arms over your head and twisting your face up. Your body tenses for a moment. Simon’s voice finally falls on your ears now that you’re just barely coherent; “Big stretch— tha’s my good, little pet!”
Each syllable is elongated and sugar coated, making a warm feeling bloom in your chest before Simon even dives into the sheets with you. You sniff a few times. Fresh and clean body wash, even some aftershave— he’s showered. At the realization, your nose scrunches. You enjoy his natural scent. The woody musk, a hint of smoke and sometimes whisky if he needs a stiff drink after work. It’s spicy and comforting. You missed out on getting whiff when he first got home. You snooze, you lose, you pout. Already pouting and you haven’t even opened your eyes fully. 
“Don’t make that face,” the words are grumbled; he knows what your issue is. Still, he’s caging you in whilst he speaks. Tattooed arms locking around your waist in a tight hold while his stubble scrubs against your cheek. You look up at him in the middle of a yawn, melting into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. Not before you rub your eyes, though. 
“Missed you, daddy,” you whisper, slurred speech and all, forgetting why you were upset a solid minute ago. 
“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” 
He’s teasing as always. Honeyed, brown irises taking in your sweet features as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. You murmur something unintelligible and equally bratty in response, clinging to him even tighter. You could fall asleep again if you really wanted to… if it wasn’t for that pesky feeling that settles in your tummy. The tingling that makes it’s way between your thighs and causes them to flex around Simon’s waist. You mewl softly— sleepily— as Simon rolls over with you in tow. You’re laying on his chest before you know it, face buried in his neck and taking in a deep breath whilst you nose at the skin there in true feline nature. Bumping your forehead into his jawbone in the process. 
Simon is rather predictable. The way he drags his hands down your sides is expected; squeezing your waist, rubbing your hips, and then grabbing the swell of your rump. With a minuscule amount of his strength, he spreads your cheeks. Those calloused fingers slip between the seam in seconds to rub your kittycunt through your panties, eager to ruin the soft cotton. Your reward for being so good and patient while he was gone. Even if you weren’t conscious. 
“Daddy.” It’s breathy and pathetic. 
“Hm?” Simon hums, as if he isn’t doing anything nefarious. 
You haven’t lived with him for long. You moved from shelter to shelter, stayed with people that certainly weren’t cut out to take care of a hybrid in between. Which ultimately lead to Simon finding you in a safe house, tucked away by some sketchy crime boss who liked to throw away his toys once he got bored of them. 
You’re not sure what ever happened to him, but you’ve got a few scars to show for that time in your life— Simon doesn’t want to falter your healing process and taint your innocence any further by telling you he painted the wall with the poor bastard's brains once the task force finally caught up to his organization. Not like you would understand, anyway. Too far gone and caught up in being a pampered, little kitten now. With bows on your ears and one to match on your tail, a pretty collar with a bell to wear when you feel up to it. You have everything you’ve ever wanted and more. 
Spoiled rotten. Simon thinks to himself, watching your lashes fan over the tops of your supple cheeks. The tips of his fingers, index and middle, find your clit through your underwear, pressing hard enough and moving in little circles to draw a syrupy mewl from you. He feels that little patch of mess growing and growing until the material is stuck to your cunt, transparent and sticky when he bunches it up and tugs upwards, forcing the cotton to strain against your folds and make you whimper. You’re left writhing on his chest in seconds. Moaning and panting “daddy,” like you’ll die if he doesn’t give in and yank the lacy trim to the side. 
Which he does. Doesn’t hesitate to stuff you full either, after all that teasing. Slips his thick middle finger right in and feels your thighs lock up on him, feels your velvet lined walls suck him right in. He’s got you trained to take all of him at this point. You pick your head up, tail swishing behind you wildly. 
“Feelin’ good, kitty?” 
“So good, daddy,” you whisper back, just over his lips before you two join for a sloppy kiss. Tongues rubbing together in a near disgusting dance. You taste the nicotine on him; you feel his stubble rub against your face. A combination that makes it impossible for your pussy not to squeeze around the digit that’s pressing up on the gooey spot inside of you— you’re trying to force him out before he can get another one in, but Simon’s certainly not a beginner. He knows how to coax your pretty cunt into letting him in. 
Your mouth falls open, singing and choking out sounds, and he grins against your scalding cheek. Pressing kisses there when he finds the time. His freehand grips your tail, and that might be the nail in the coffin for you. His fingers fill you up to his knuckles, pressing and flexing until you both can hear how messy you are between your thighs, spreading the glossy arousal all over the plump cheeks of your ass. He tugs at the squirming mess of fluff in his fist—your tail— and your cunt squeezes itself around his fingers so tight he can’t move them anymore. Record timing. 
Simon kisses you, again and again. Slow and sensual to fast and rough. Anything you need to ride out the aftershocks of your release, with your poor cunt still flexing and refusing to let go of his digits until he reluctantly has to pull them out. Bringing the messy hand up to his mouth. You watch him lick his fingers clean. His fat tongue peaks out, slipping ‘n sliding through his digits while you stare at him with dazed, half lidded eyes. Before it’s your turn and he decides to share your sweetness. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open as wide as it can. Drool slips past your lips and tongue, and he has the revelation that he’s turned you into a proper sex kitten. His fingers fall out of your mouth with a soft and wet pop. 
“Relax, kitty.” He grumbles once you begin making hasty movements. It’s more of a demand than anything else. His attempts to coax you are lazy but earnest, petting the back of your head with one hand while the other caresses your lower back. Right above your now drooping tail. 
“Wan’ more,” you huff out, planting your hands flat on Simon’s chest as you gather enough strength to sit up. Your poor cunt is still sore from his rough digits, creamy and messy with your release. Painfully empty. You need him. 
It’s apparent in every little move you make. Each rut of your hips over his hard cock. You whine, looking down and seeing the mess you’re making on your daddy’s joggers. Simon’s no better. Deep groans rumbling in his giant chest. The gray material grows darker and albeit stickier with your arousal. Simon doesn’t have the heart to deny you— not when you’re gagging for it like this. 
He can see your pretty, starry eyes welling with hot tears, making your lashes heavy. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep but plump with pleasure, lips pouty and slick with a mix of your saliva and his. Before he knows it, while he’s under whatever trance you managed to cast over him, he’s helping you get his fat cock out of his sweats. His hands dwarf your own, scarred lips shushing your small sounds in the process with a curse or two. 
“Greedy fuckin’ thing.” 
It’s his fault for spoiling you so much, but that’s a conversation for later. 
His dick immediately smacks against his lower abdomen. Thick and heavy. Beads of his precum create such a mess on his hoodie and you nearly giggle at the sight. The feeling of him grabbing your hips stops you, though. He drags you over his cock, and you have no choice but to squeal when his shaft rubs right up on your sensitive clit, before the fat head of his cock catches your drooly entrance. You suck a breath in through your teeth. The last thing you do before Simon plants his feet on the bed and stuffs you full of every inch in one go, growling loud ‘n proud and gripping your skin hard enough to make you sniffle. 
Somehow, in the middle of everything, the hem of the shirt you’re wearing becomes tucked between your teeth. And his becomes balled up in your fists. Simon can’t recall ever seeing you like this. All riled up with your ears flat on your head and small, feisty growls escaping you. The wind is knocked out of him each time you bounce, pulling yourself upwards and then falling right back down on his fat cock. 
He doesn’t have it in him to stop you, once again. When you’re milking him like this it’s hard for him to focus on anything besides how much he loves you and your precious cunt. His hand wavers over your tummy, rubbing your smooth skin as he tries to string words together through ragged breaths. Your cunt is unrelenting. Pulsing and squeezing and all around ruining him. Fuckin’ hell— you’re testing his stamina riding him like this.
“Trying to fuck the cum out of me like this, kitten,” he’s throwing his head back, desperately trying to meet your hips to the best of his fucked out abilities, “is tha’ what you want?” 
Your response is hummed, meeting his eyes with a glossed over look. Your own drool is soaking the fabric through. Maybe you really are just a dumb kitty, Simon thinks— “Words, pet.” He reminds you with the last bit of composure he has himself, “want daddy to give you some kitties, is that it?” 
“Yes!” You squeak out, “Please, daddy! Breed me.” 
Simon blacks out after that. It’s a mess of desperate thrusts and you falling forward, flopping onto his chest yet again due to how hard your orgasm rocks into you. He’s gripping your thighs— holding you nice and open, allowing him to fuck up into you and knock your cute squeals right out of your throat. You’re creaming everywhere, covering his cock in a milky white that makes him groan when he feels how much messier your cunt has gotten. The sloppy sounds echo through the room until he stills. Sinking his cock into you as far as it can go, fat head surpassing that spot that draws out your messiest releases and pressing up against your cervix. 
His cum is hot and thick. Both of you shudder, feeling it fill you up to the brim and leak out of your poor, fluttering kittycunt while Simon holds onto you for dear life. He huffs and puffs against one of your ears, unbothered by the way the fluff tickles his nose. There’s a soft noise coming from you. Airy sighs and— no, it can’t be— little snores. Your face is smushed up on Simon’s shoulder. Surely drooling all over his hoodie. You ear twitches under his nose. The way they always do when you’re knocked out. 
“Un-fuckin’-believable.” 
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elisespage · 13 days
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in which your constant nagging for a cat finally makes jude give in.
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“but jude…” you whined, trailing off to try and see if his usual reaction has changed from his annoyed face to his ‘i’m giving in’ one.
a deep sigh left his lips as he looked up from his phone, being met with your puppy dog eyes. god he’d love to just say yes and give in. but a cat wouldn’t be such a good idea right now.
the pair of you had only moved into your madrid apartment a couple of weeks ago and he wasn’t even sure pets were allowed.
every night, jude would listen to your rambling about cats and how independent they were. countless videos were being sent to him of cats doing funny things and he nearly did give in when you shown him a litter of kittens that were being given away.
“how many times, y/n? no cats.”
he tried to sound stern but he let a little out when you slumped back into the bed, a frown on your face. “but did you know that seventy percent of a cats life is just sleeping? that means hardly any work.”
he turned his phone off and the bedside light, getting under the covers with you. “thanks for the information y/n, but i’m still saying no.”
“you’re no fun,” you huffed, turning around to face the opposite way. jude wrapped his arm around your waist, pecking your neck a couple of times. he hated it when you were mad at him.
it wasn’t like you were mad at him. you were mad at the fact you couldn’t get a cat, and he was a big part in why you couldn’t. maybe you were.
“come on. listen, if you give me a kiss maybe i can ask the building manager-”
jude was cut off by your abrupt movement, your lips meeting his and arms wrapping tightly around him. “have i ever told you that i love you?”
“several times a day.”
+
when your alarm went off to wake up for work, jude was nowhere to be found. you just assumed that he had gone to training early so you went to work like everything was normal, the conversation from last night being pushed to the back of your mind.
after a long day of work the only thing on your mind was relaxing in the bath with a glass of wine. but that idea was also pushed to the back of your mind when you opened the front door.
jude stood in the middle of the living room, a box at his feet and a confused look on etched all over him.
“whats up, buttercup?” you asked, dropping your keys into the bowl and joining his side to look st the various boxes at his feet.
“okay, you can’t freak out. well you can, but you can’t scream.”
now your confusion was evident and you were starting to think the worst until the sound of small feet were heard. you looked down and saw the most gorgeous tabby cat staring back up at you and you gasped.
“you didn’t!” you screeched, picking the cat up and kissing it all over. it licked your face and then wriggled so you put it down. “oh my god, jude!”
you figured all the boxes were cat supplies and your boyfriend kneeled on the ground, opening the biggest box which turned out to be a cat scratching post. “i thought maybe you’d like to help me. i can’t even understand the stupid instructions.”
the pair of you spent the next hour sorting out the food bowls, the scratching post and even all the little toys jude had bought for her.
“what are we going to call her?” you wondered later when you were snuggled up on the couch, the cat lay on your lap with her arms stretched and resting on your chest.
he paused the movie and grabbed the laptop, googling cat names. “peach? coco? muffin?”
“i kind of like coco. but that’s too girly,” you sighed, staring down at the cat with ideas swirling in your mind. “how about friday?”
you turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed at the unusual name that jude had come up with. “why friday?”
“because it’s friday. also, we met on a friday. and we had our first date on fridays. and we also got this place on a friday.”
fridays seemed to always pop up in your life, always at important times as well. so friday seemed to work well.
“friday. i love it,” you giggled, pecking jude on the lips. “i love you too.”
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saeitoshithoughts · 1 year
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PUPPY LOVE
♥️ dating itoshi sae in middle school + in which he swears to marry you + headcanons
characters: itoshi sae
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- it started off from you offering him your pencils whenever he seems to forget his. then it moved on to you poking at his shoulder whenever he dozed off in class.
- it escalated: where you would list down his homework for him whenever he is away in an important match for school. in which he would return the favour to show his gratitude by buying you little trinkets he thinks you’d like with his pocket money.
- his pocket money wasn’t much, so most of them came from the convenience store close to his home.
- usually they’re ice creams, sometimes they’re pens with multicolour selection.
- sometimes they were packets of lolipops.
- he then starts to invite you to see his football matches- unwilling for you to see him as a clumsy and hopeless boy who can’t study or do his cleaning duties without causing a bigger mess.
- he shows off a little more- refuses to pass the ball to anyone else.
- it ends with him scoring all five goals for his team.
- the cat was out of the bag when he finally decides to man up and hand you an expensive heart shaped box filled with chocolates the next day. (he promised his mom that he’d do the laundry for a month if she brought it for him).
- first thing first: sae is a family man who expects marriage out of this.
- after your second year together, you were presented with a clumsily drawn marriage certificate: with his big handwriting sprawled over the boxes and two other empty boxes- waiting for you to sign your name away/
- sae takes promises seriously: he will make it happen.
- sae who makes thought-filled promises to you:
“ill buy you the expensive stuff once we’re older and i become the best.”
“i can buy that dress for you no problem once i become the best.”
“ill buy you a bigger ring than that.” he once points out, while holding your hand in your pockets on a bitterly cold winter night- when he saw you gawking at a woman getting proposed to.
- sae who tells his family about you.
- his dad tried to tease him, only to be met with sae’s proud face,
“yeah, we’re gonna marry once I become the best”
- sae, who takes his promise so seriously that a new chapter starts with his hand holding yours, hair carefully and neatly swept back, suit thoroughly ironed out, saying:
“I do.” (and i always have)
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ashurzs · 5 months
Text
“kang minjun..” “hm?” you flinch, not expecting your bestfriend to just be right there behind you. you swear he wasn’t there before! “wha- where did you come from..?” “i was at the vending machine over there-“
he points somewhere, then twirling his finger as he shrugs. “somewhere over there.. anyways here” he hands you a drink. “ooh apple juice, thanks!”
he watches you silently as you open it and drink it, capping it and reaching into the bag that rested on one shoulder. “here wait i’ll pay you bac-“ “no”
“eh?” you look up at him, eyes so big and doe with your hand still in your bag. you see him smirk, then it turns into a smile and a cough. “yeah it’s fine”
“..whatever kat..”
“kang”
“autocorrect says otherwise!”
it was years ago when this happened, back in middle school. but for some reason when you’d type out minjun’s full name, it would turn into kat minjun. and he is a cat person, you’ve met layla before she’s a sweetheart !
“that was years ago..”
“n has that stopped me from calling you kat?”
he rolls his eyes, flicking his tongue. “whatever.”
“m-minjun.!” you whine out, arching your back while you claw at the messed up bedsheets. “g-gonna.!”
“what, already?” he pouts, stopping his harsh thrusts watching as you twitch. “wha.. why’d you..?” you’re red, you just know it with how warm your face feels.
he coos mockingly as he hears you sniffle and wipe the stray tears that fall from your eyes. “why’s my baby cryin’ now huh?”
you don’t answer, too embarrassed to say anything.
“guess i gotta fuck you to help you speak up huh?” he gives a small peck on your lips, a huge contradiction from the harsh thrust inside he does. “fuuck.!”
you drag out your moans as he pins over you, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls something you could get addicted on. and it
“shows with how loud you’re moaning..”
“huh.?” you blink out of your trance, doe eyes glistening as you look up at the raven haired male.
“what, dick too good you can’t focus on me?” his sentence goes in one ear and out the other, but you can note how his lip piercing adorning his face nicely.
you hear a chuckle, but you don’t laugh. instead you arch your back into him. your arms wrap around his neck, trying to pull him into a messy kiss.
who’s he to deny such a sweet act hm? he kisses you back with a smile in between, his hips changing between thrusting and just grinding. but when he does grind, he notices that you get more whiny and squeeze your eyes tighter together.
“n-no.. no grinding,,!” he feels you tighten around him, drool escaping your mouth as you blabber on about not wanting him to grind. “please.. junn.. don’t wanna cum like thatt..”
“what, you embarrassed?” he says, raising an eyebrow at your lewd face. "looks like you're enjoyin it.."
"noo.!" you retort immediately, shaking your head. your eyes are still shut, but after a few seconds of silence and no movements you're forced to open to them.
you felt fingers grab and squish your cheek, his grip digging into the bones. your first response is to try and get his hands off, but he just squints at you disprovingly. "you'll take what i give you, unless you don't want anything at all?"
you shake your head slowly, pouting to the best of your ability. your mouth hurts with his tight grip, but you can't speak up. "good boy.. my good lil puppy..~"
was this jus an excuse to post AND give his name? maybe! :3
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strawbsstarz · 1 month
Text
Drunk: Draco Malfoy x reader
kind of rushed but I was inspired
warning: none just fluff :)
~
2:30 am, the phone rings. Ring Ring! Draco groans at the noise, tossing in his bed, his peaceful slumber disrupted. He was about to turn his phone on silent when he caught a glimpse from his squinted eyes at the caller.
"Hello..?" He greets groggily, sleep still present.
The other line is silent, "...Hello?" He mutters again. *Hiccups* Draco, confused, takes his phone off his ear to check if the call was still there. As he was about to start talking again, the other line finally speaks.
"DrACoOo!" A burst of giggles following.
"Y/N?" He rubs his eyes trying to get rid of his tiredness, "..are you drunk?"
Another hiccup, "let's facetimeee...I missed youu~"
"Do you want me to come over?" He asks prompting himself up on his elbows.
"No!" Followed by another hiccup, "it's cold out."
"You're outside?" The sleepiness, no longer present, he gets up quickly and rushes to the front door while on the phone with her, "Who are you with? Where are you?"
The call echoes with giggles, "I don't know...I'm losttttt"
Draco falls into a panicked state, why was she drunk all alone in the middle of the night? "Stay on the phone with me, princess, okay? I'm coming right now."
He hears her giggle and hiccuping not giving a clear answer, he quickly checks her location and jogs over since it's nearby.
"Ooh Kitty!" Y/N exclaims excitedly, *hiccups* The phone can be heard falling on the ground, Y/N scooping the cat up in her arms, "Wanna comee home wit me?"
Sprinting now, he says "You're joking right?"
Draco sees Y/N hovered around a corner by a wall holding up a cat and petting it. He hears the cat's purr and meow on the phone. Despite being out of breath, he rushes to her.
Before he could scold her, Y/N puts down the cat and sprints to Draco engulfing him in a hug, "Draco!"
He wraps his arm around her waist, while the other is trying to keep her steady in her stance. As Y/N pulls away she excitedly does small jumps pointing to the cat,
"Look Draco!" She goes back to the cat scooping it in her arms, "Can we keeep him?"
A little taken aback, he shakes his head slightly, "No, Y/N, we're not keeping him, you're drunk right now."
"bUT he's so preciousss," she smiles as she pets the cat, "who's a good kitttyy?"
Draco sighs, "No, Y/N we can't keep a cat.."
She pouts at him, and as if the cat followed in her suit, meows and ironically, gives big puppy dog eyes at the boy.
"Fine, fine!" He reluctantly agrees, "Let's get you home okay, hold my hand so you don't fall"
While the two walked home together, Y/N still visibly drunk starts talking to the cat, "I'm gonna feed you soooo much food and loveee you and snuggle wiht you!"
Draco, slightly annoyed but finds it adorable, shakes his head as he grips tighter on his hold of her hand, "Hold tightly, Y/N, we can't have you tripping and falling here."
Y/N slowly trying to understand the situation, let's go of Draco's hand, "Umm excuse you! I have a boyfriend!" She states with her eyes half open.
In disbelief, Draco just stands there, "....I am your boyfriend."
Tilting her head, she asks, "What's your name?"
"Draco.."
"Prove it!"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, she's gonna be the death of me, "Love, I need you to hold my hand until we get home."
Y/N shakes her head, pouting "I can walk perfectly fine by myself! Plus, my boyfriend would get upset if he saw me with you, he'd definitely kick your ass!"
Draco puts his hand on his hip, "First off, you were stumbling and tripping over yourself a minute ago. Second, I am your boyfriend."
Y/N giggles as she stares at his face, going closer, "You look like him.."
He sighs.
"But he's soOO much more handsome *hiccups*"
"Are you trying to flirt with me right now?" He questions, somewhat amused.
"No! I wouldn't dare cheat!!" She says clutching the cat closer to her as it meows, as if it was agreeing.
Another sigh, Draco grabs Y/N's face in his hands, "Y/N, look at me."
With half lidded eyes, she looks at him, tilting her head in confusion, before getting into another set of giggles.
"Focus on my eyes, darling." Following his instructions, she does as she's told, mumbling grey.
"Good, now look at my hair." With one hand holding the cat, she lightly combs her fingers through his hair, "it looks blonde? noo! platinum?? Final ANSwer!"
He chuckles, "Now who am I?" He asks. Her eyes move their way down on his face, admiring and analyzing their features, before landing on his lips, tracing her fingers softly.
After a moment of staring she pulls away to sneeze, "Achoo!" She breaks out in a fit of laughter once again, and this time Draco joins her.
"Draco!" She finally recognizes him, "I missed you!" She pecks his lips.
Draco blushes slightly, but chuckles to himself as he pulls her closer to him guiding her once more to go home, along with their new cat.
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hg-aneh · 4 months
Note
do you like aziraphale as a character?
have a good day/night!
Of course I do ajnds
Tho, it might be for the "wrong" reasons-?
I love how his soft exterior completely makes up for everything- PLEASE AZIRAPHALE MAFIA DON'T COME FOR ME I PROMISE THIS IS GOOD- everything potentially """"sinful"""" that he does
Like, in the scotland minisode, had it not been Aziraphale being the classist pos, I don't think I would've been able to even laugh at the situation (I come from a lower middle class family who started off VERY poor), but since it's Aziraphale I just go "oh, you"
I know the english speaking fandom doesn't like to hear that bc they're a bit more touchy on the subject of classism (rightfully so), but the latam side kind of already has made that a BIG joke (we like coping that way sowwy) and Aziraphale being the butt of it due to the way he's like- BASICALLY a princess is a LOT of fun
Besides, I know he'd come around if someone pushed him in the right direction xD, so it's a harmless snobbiness... for the most part
He's also like- a manipulative little shit? in the way a puppy or a cat is. You Could say No, but Would you? when he's looking at you like that, with those pale blue eyes :( ?
and his stubbornness akjfksbglsng
I know the Azirastans see him a bit differently, I've noticed they like him more for his positive traits, but to me what TRULY makes him a fun character is all those things that are a bit shit
(I SAY IT WITH LOVE AZIRAPHALE MAFIA, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE'S THE WAY HE IS, IT'S A HEAVEN THING YES. I STILL LIKE HIM, PUT DOWN THE CROWBAR PLEAS-)
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secretsecretbunny · 3 months
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Just friends: stray kids smau.
Get to know the characters/story set up.
pairing: lee minho x f!reader - roommate!skz.
genre: fluff, angst, smau, (maybe smut in the future idk yet, may have written parts as well) roommates au.
notes/set up: boys are non idols, but some still do music/dance + other jobs. they all live together in a big ass house that's owned by richboy!felix's family. chan, minho, changbin, and y/n were college friends. chan and felix are cousins. felix, hyunjin, han, seungmin, and innie were college friends. literally all college dropouts which is what they all bonded over. ended up living together by association basically. chan, bin, and han are still 3racha, and are known, just not famous.
↓about them↓
chan: nicknames- channie, dad, pops, paparacha, sometimes gets called chris but usually only when someone's mad/serious. producer for social media musicians/small time musicians, and 3racha. almost always at the studio. group dad. supportive, sweet, helpful, responsible, overworker, protective, peace keeper. loves his friends more than anything, also loves music, romcoms, running/jogging, working out with changbin. well off but not super rich.
minho: nicknames- min, catboy, grumpy, twinkle toes, dancing queen, loverboy, hoe. choreographer/dance instructor. cold on the outside, squishy in the middle. doesn't express his feelings well, but tends to be softer around y/n. loves cats, movie nights, night walks/drives, and true crime podcasts. social weed smoker and drinker. hardworker, sarcastic, flirty, funny, makes inappropriate jokes. he likes to pretend he doesn't care, but secretly does.
changbin: nicknames- binnie, bin, binbo, crybaby, muscle man, beefcake. personal trainer, duh. loud. straight up himbo. his appearance scares people but he's protective, kind, caring, and will cry at cute things/when he's happy. absolutely loves cute things, y/n's cooking, cheesy TV dramas, rapping, working out, and affection. all around soft boy until you piss him off.
hyunjin: nicknames- hyune, hyunnie bun, jinnie, gorgeous, rapunzel, punzie, bob ross. he's rich. also sells his art. sarcastic, blunt, artistic, boujie, addicted to shopping. also likes to pretend he doesn't care, but probably cares too much. loves painting, drawing, and being lazy with his friends. a little in love with felix, no one can tell if he's serious or not. will absolutely start painting on the walls, floors, or ceilings just because he can. everyone loves it though.
jisung: nicknames- hanji, ji, hannie, babygirl, smokeshow, bud, han yolo. does random odd jobs and makes a suspicious amount of money from it + sometimes streams with felix. stoner, great friend, supportive, anxious, hyper, has mad adhd, loves anime, rapping, and sweets. he's a little weird but in a good and cute way. loves sharing his weed with his friends. also loud.
felix: nicknames- lixie, lix, pixie, sunshine, golden boy, richy rich, brownie boy, angel. also just rich, part time streamer. literally sunshine ofc. social butterfly. always trying to drag y/n or one of the boys somewhere. sweet, generous, kind, happy, excitable, loves cute things, baking, video games, and also anime. him and ji bond over it.
seungmin: nicknames- seungminnie, minnie, puppy, bitch, dickhead, devil. luxury dog walker (started his own dog walking business). sarcastic, sometimes rude, easily annoyed, but overall a great friend. likes dogs more than people. protective af but tries to hide it. will 100% shut off his rude and sarcastic comments if his friends really need him. loves pranks, coffee, singing, writing, and scary movies.
jeongin: nicknames- innie, in, babyboy, coffee boy, bigmouth. barista at a fancy coffee shop. wants to make his own money and not live off of his wealthy parents. sweet, kind, generous, can be sarcastic when he wants to be. loves animals, coffee, video games, asmr, and singing. can't keep a secret to save his life. plays innocent but is definitely not. once smoked weed and and cried because he couldn't remember how to make a latte. never smoked again. he's the only one of the boys who calls y/n noona.
y/n: nicknames- bug, bubs, princess, tiny, sweetheart, pretty, feisty, attitude, noona. has lots of secrets and trauma. no one knows what she does for work. she refuses to tell the boys and any time they have tried to find out she catches on and puts a stop to it. they just know she's getting paid well. sweet, kind, funny, people pleaser, messy. has an attitude sometimes and can hold a grudge. when in a fight or flight situation it's 50/50. she'll either punch you in the face or run so far her legs turn to jelly. acts confident and bold: isn't. just a great actress. gets sad often but pretends she's not. loves cooking, ghibli movies, plants/flowers, cuddling, fire, and her friends. hates her family. smokes with ji a lot but is a social drinker. she grew up really poor so she tends to get anxious about spending money/people spending money on her. 100% gets princess treatment regardless.
Socials:
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part one || part 1.5 || part two || part three
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auspicioustidings · 4 months
Note
141 fighting each other to be the one whose lap reader sits on during a meeting or smth
CONGRATS ON 1kkkk
Thanks <3 Please find silly nonsense below!
Tomfoolery Senses
Words: 1k
CWs: Slightly spicy but nothing explicit
Honestly you shouldn’t even be on base, not with your knee being how it was. It was annoying as hell that the recovery time meant you were out of the field for the foreseeable, but they still needed you. You may not be able to run around with a gun right now, but tactical was always your strong point anyway so for now you attended meetings and made plans.
You walked into one such meeting and your tomfoolery senses immediately went off. There were too many glinting eyes for them not to have pulled something, and when you went to sit down you nearly laughed out loud at the bloody audacity. No empty seats. Strange since there should be some, almost as if someone had relocated them beforehand specifically for some ridiculous purpose.
“Ye can sit here bonnie!”
It took a moment for your brain to catch up. Soap was very much patting his lap in excitement. The last time you had ended up in that man's lap his hand had wandered during the entire meeting. You recalled being a mess by the end of it and Soap being very much like the cat who got the cream about it because he knew it meant when he followed to your room like a puppy you would let him in.
“Move your arse MacTavish, I’m injured and I need the seat.”
“Wouldnae dream of it! As ye’ll recall, I also have a dodgy knee. Only right for us tae stick together.”
“Surely you’re not asking them to sit on your dodgy knee then Johnny? Come on sweetheart, right here.”
You gave Ghost a bemused look. Soap you expected this from, but him? Actually no, you had very much been overwatch for 141 missions, this is exactly the kind of nonsense you expected of this idiot.
“Now I would love to, but weren’t you just telling me about your bad back? I seem to remember something about needing me to massage it. It would be irresponsible of me to risk making it worse.”
“Your massage fixed it right up actually" he replied, large hand patting thick thigh in further invitation.
You rolled your eyes. Your “massage” had lasted about a minute with you sincerely giving it your best effort before he had pinned you down and given you a very thorough massaging of his own. Only that one had done the opposite of fixing your back, if anything you'd say he had in fact blown it out.
“That so? You were complaining about it right before they walked in” Gaz said, smug as anything even while Ghost glared over at him.
“He's a lying git luv, obviously just looking to get a gorgeous thing in his lap. My lap, however, is neutral.”
You knew for a fact his lap was not neutral, not one bit. His lap was very much the kind of lap that you found yourself bouncing on anytime he got you alone and charmed you right into it. You could be in the middle of a training exercise, fully in the zone, and next thing you knew you were stuffed full of Kyle bloody Garrick in the middle of a safehouse where anyone could wander in at any moment. It wasn't like you were a big risk taker, but he could make you think anything was a good idea.
“A veritable Switzerland I'm sure.”
“Safest place to be really.”
“Look me in the eye and say that with a straight face then.”
Soap and Ghost groaned in tandem as you made the mistake of looking at Gaz. That bloody sunshine smile could sell ice in the Arctic and as such everyone usually avoided eye contact when they knew he wanted something. Charisma score above 20 that boy. Honestly these fuckers were the worst, but oh Gaz's big brown eyes were just smiling so gently at you and surely he would never do anything untoward. How could you look at this man and think he would ever manipulate you?
“Corporal, come ‘ere, that's an order.”
Gaz's sunshine expression turned to one of wry disbelief. He had been so close, you had been about to take a step towards him. It was awfully unsportsmanlike for Price to pull rank, something Gaz would be holding against him.
“So much for honour.”
“Cheeky fucker.”
“Just taking the piss Captain.”
It wasn't completely unfounded for Price to use his rank to get what he wanted when it came to you, it was why usually the others would try to get you away from him. Ghost did it sometimes too if he wasn't there and the Sergeants were. Although he didn't use it quite as thoroughly as Price did once he got you alone. The Captain was always happy to give you orders if only so he could punish you when you bit back, which you did often. Not because you enjoyed the punishment, that certainly wasn't it. You could not supply another reason, but that was besides the point.
“Well I suppose I have to since you're the Captain, unless there was someone that technically had more authority to give me orders” you said with a grin.
“Come on now pet, don't be like that, just come sit and we can start the meeting hm?” he said, using that voice that was right in the middle of soothing dominance and rough command in a last ditch effort.
“Of course Captain, just want to clear it with command first.”
Price sighed, glancing over and seeing that he had lost the fight when he was met with Kate's sly little smile. She was often your saviour when it came to these men. It helped that her and her lovely wife were both sweet on you. They had invited you round for dinner once or twice, and suffice to say the very delicious home cooked meals were not the only thing getting eaten. If there was one thing the men in the 141 hated more than losing to one another, it was losing to Laswell. She was always so annoyingly smug about being your favourite.
As you settled right down in her lap and both the meeting and Kate's hands gently massaging at your waist started, the 141 collectively thought that next time they'd better bring you a damn chair.
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delopsia · 3 months
Text
Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader
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Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!
Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs. 
Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.
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The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top. 
His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.
"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.
Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him. 
"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.
But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together. 
Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."
Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.
You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck,"  it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"
He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb." 
On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.
And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.
"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.
Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut. 
"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to. 
Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype. 
"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life. 
Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you. 
Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy. 
A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more. 
"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."
A pitchy whine slices through the air.
You haven't heard that one before. 
Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"
He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."
It's not fair.
Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.
"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward. 
Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."
"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man. 
Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy." 
His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb. 
As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks. 
But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.
Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.
"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.
He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore." 
"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"
"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."
That...
"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time. 
When he was on the other side of the room.
"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."
Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.
He'd heard you through the damn wall?
But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room. 
"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"
"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest. 
His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.
"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"
And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?" 
You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.
"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."
A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.
You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.
"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...
magnificent. 
Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat. 
And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager. 
His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.
"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut.  Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit." 
You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.
"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."
"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."
He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.
"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."
Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.
His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—" 
"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—
Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 
It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass. 
Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers. 
Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes. 
"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs. 
"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"
"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."
There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.
You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door. 
The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.
Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.
For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.  
Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...
Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...
"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"
But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate. 
Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.
The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him. 
His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.
There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.
Hell, he didn't even know. 
It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip. 
If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now. 
Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow. 
You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth. 
He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently. 
"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"
His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.
He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself. 
"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.
"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.
His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.
And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.
"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen. 
You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him. 
His eyes roll.
"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.
This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.
And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit! 
All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.
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accio-victuuri · 3 months
Text
their ordinary life. 🏠
i am referencing this post which was allegedly shared in 2021. i like how it’s written and the cpn clues inserted, then making a whole story out of it. a reason why most of us love lrg and other rumor anecdotes is because it’s simple and shows what their day to day life is like. tho they are celebrities with extraordinarily busy lives, the thought of them just being zz and bobo is comforting and sweet. it may be confusing cause there are parts where they are both referenced as they. and then it will switch to “i” as if in the person’s first person pov.
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all of this is fake & fanfiction…
they should have a cat and a dog. everyone knows the cat's name is Tao, the dog’s name also matches the cat very well, it’s called Lizi. it’s a puppy ZZ bought it on impulse, but in the end I had to give it to my mother in Chongqing to deal with the aftermath. they have a home in Beijing, with a room full of helmets and musical instruments. there is also a room equipped with a projector, with warm and artistic decoration. when the two people are tired, they can lie here and watch movies together. there is also a big LCD TV, two people playing games to decide the outcome and doing housework.
the kitchen should be well-equipped, but the storage of materials is not alot, both of them are busy and have little time to cook, but there should be someone that makes trouble while the other person is cooking, and the other person will teach. when that person was making hand cakes, he had a headache several times and wanted to curse.
the room they sleep in, well, the bedding must be of high quality, it must be very comfortable and considerate for two people who both have the habit of sleeping naked. someone should install a night light in the toilet so that people who are afraid of the dark can get up in the middle of the night. there will be lights as soon as the toilet is near. there should be a lot of things on the bedside, eye drops, stomach-protecting tablets, Ryukakusan, cough cough... In short, both of them takes good care of your body! there will be a light fragrance in the room. they are all people who love cleanliness, maybe it’s also due to the scented candles.
there is a huge closet, which could have been used as a styling area in the beginning. one will often buy several pieces at a time and wrap them up. the other will also complain that one person loves shopping so much that he is not frugal and knows how to organize his clothes regularly. it was painful to pick out an old model to wear, and taught another person: "See, this is okay. As for clothes, save money and don’t buy so much. You still have a mortgage. ” another smiled and didn’t say anything. clothes that smell like them over time are familiar and reassuring, as if they are by each other’s side. In this way, they give each other company. Sometimes the trip is too urgent and I don’t pay much attention. both people will pack the wrong clothes into their suitcases. there should also be a small gym, where two actors and teachers can work hard. One person is envious of another's eight-pack abs, and the other possesses someone's waist (don't ask me why I know it's possible because I am a barbell. )
both of them have been doing more and more endorsements, and they have a lot of products at home. when the two brothers are in a good mood, they take one out and play with it, jokingly calling it "opening a blind box." most of the time, they kept sending them to my family, and the family group was noisy.
the two of them still can't stay at home most of the time and are always on the road. yes, headphones are a common item. why? because they are used for making phone calls and watching videos and to chat online. I took out my mobile phone to complain after getting off work. i quickly called to tell him that I miss you. people’s true emotions finally have a safe and secure place. how good is this, just wanting someone who can always listen to me in my life. you act coquettishly. you can complain and cry.
i also surfed the Internet, but I just browsed casually, after all, it was all the same rainbow fart, I want to take some time to listen to that person blowing it to me. sometimes it’s annoying to see fans quarreling. i used my account number to tell them to stop arguing, but it didn’t work. just switch to my other account and fight bravely with heizi ( antis ) and lose. until the account was suspended and blocked, then I took screenshots and felt aggrieved. he said, "Baby, look at me, I've lost another number by helping you.". The other person was amused, and he was no longer troubled by the remarks.
the other side is also keen on surfing and secretly saves a lot of emoticons, all of which are like pigs. regarding this, after I sent it, I laughed so hard that I hit the table and couldn’t stop having fun. hey, of course you can hear the voice of someone screaming on the phone: "Why does it have to be a pig?" "I'm a leopard! Not a pig! You What a stinky rabbit!”
they will take care of eating, taking medicine, drinking water, and taking care of each other when they are sick. they will take good care of each other and care for each other. if you are disobedient, it will be known immediately, and you will be punished, and then you will obey because I want to live a long with the other person. if possible, I hope it will be the same in my next life.
he will also get jealous, lose his temper and act awkward. Alas, as an actor, he is still in the entertainment industry. what can I do? Buy gifts, buy food, make phone calls. if you want to talk, send WeChat, and send some updates and stuck points that fans can’t understand.
In the end, I still couldn't coax him, so I could only study how to fight authentically and run to see the other party. the time is very short, and you may only be able to stay in the car, room, or corner. i left after an hour or two, my temper was gone, and I kept looking at the other person. laugh, give a hug, hold hands for a walk, kiss, and talk for a long time. if it's been a long time, your eyes will inevitably turn red when you separate.
“Every time it’s so short, it’s hard to be separated, and I won’t be able to come next time.
“But I miss you.
"...I know, I'll come see you next time."
knowing that there will be an event for two people on the same stage will make them excited for a long time, and they will fall in love at public expense. love, doesn’t it feel good?
no matter what, they won’t understand the meaning of it anyway. meet backstage, eat a meal together, take ugly photos of each other while doing makeup, and fight. let’s sit together and look at our phones and chat about the current situation. the two people at the back looked right at each other when Fang doesn't speak, the staff will consciously go out and leave them alone.
think hard. I miss you even when I walk. I miss you when I sit. kiss the necklace that you bought for me, look at the blue sky and white clouds, draw a picture, then take the archeology test, and look at the other party’s dark history, snap screenshots and make emoticons and throw them over. it’s the happiness that only artists can have when they fall in love, don’t you understand~
regarding the public, the feeling of being watched by millions of people cheering and blessing that summer it’s really good. surrounded by love from all over the world, you will feel that there is nothing better than our happy couple. maybe, one day, wait for the rainbow to come. On that day, I am Lao Wang and he was Lao Xiao. We walked in front of everyone. before, he drew a story about us, told by me since I was 21 years old.
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paleprincessturtle · 3 months
Note
hi would love to see a harvey specter fanfic that had some angst but ends in a nice fluffy moment!
Hi! Thank you so much for the request. Hope you enjoy this one!
Cakes and Flowers
You always knew that Harvey had zero to no patience. So when he abruptly asked you to marry him in the middle of the week—Tuesday night, to be exact—as much as it was such a surprise, you always knew Harvey couldn't wait that long to live up to all the romantic things he planned on how to propose to you. So there it was: Wednesday morning, you suddenly became a lefty. Everyone was thrilled, to say the least, and more puzzled as to why you left work on Tuesday evening not engaged and came back the next morning totally glowing from being someone's fiancée.
It was only the third day of you being engaged. You were cooking dinner while Harvey sat by the island, and some documents spread in front of him. "Is that the Winchester case?" you asked as you chopped up some carrots. "Yes," Harvey answered as he nodded. "Need help?" you asked as you rounded the island to stand beside Harvey. You wiped your hands on your apron and leaned down to get a better look at what Harvey was reading. As you read what was on the documents, you felt Harvey's eyes on you. Watching you intently with a mere distance between the two of you. "Let's elope in Vegas; we'll go first thing in the morning tomorrow," Harvey said as you turned your head slowly to face him. You looked deeply into his captivating brown eyes, searching for any glimpses of jokes. No. You know him too well; he was being serious. "Harvey?" you chuckled in disbelief at what he just proposed the two of you should do over the weekend. Harvey took your hand as he stared at you, eyes full of love, full of passion. "I don't want to wait any longer; marry me tomorrow; be my wife." Harvey took your hand and gave it a chaste kiss. You smiled down at him, he waited for your answer.
No, you didn't cave into the puppy's eyes that Harvey pulled the whole night AND the whole weekend. You finally convinced Harvey that on their wedding day, you and Harvey must've wanted your closest friends and family to be there. You convinced Harvey that he was making a rash decision that he would regret later. Despite all the convincing you successfully did, Harvey only gave you 3 months to prepare for the wedding. It wasn't like you wanted a big wedding anyway. But a wedding is a wedding, and you wanted it to be as perfect as it could get. Upon this request, you also successfully made Harvey promise to help you with the wedding preparation. Harvey couldn't care less about the venue, cakes, or dress you wear. You could wear a burlap sack, and Harvey would be as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. But you still wanted to involve Harvey in this; it was his wedding day too.
That day, Harvey had to pick you up from a client's office since you had to be there at their board meeting. It was already pouring even before Harvey arrived. You sighed as you saw how bad the rain was, and there you saw Harvey's car. You could just call Harvey to tell Ray to go get you an umbrella. To think again, you were sure that Harvey would fetch you himself. You stayed there for a full minute, contemplating the distance from the entrance door to Harvey's car. You could use your bag. You glanced down at your bag. Oh, the pretty leather. But you decided not to bother Ray or Harvey. So there you were, in your pencil skirt and high heels. Ready to run. Just as you stepped into the rain, you felt your phone buzz. It must be Harvey, you thought. But there was no way in hell you would stop to pick up whoever was calling you. As you opened the door, Harvey was ready to scold you. You could see it in his face. You were drenched. It was far, but it was raining cats and dogs. Harvey was about to open his mouth, but you raised your hand at him as you tried to fish out your phone. The buzzing was persistent. "Hi Evelyn," you answered, phone between your shoulder and ear. "What? No, I already told you I wanted my bouquet to look neat while giving wildflowers. What? No, no, no. I told you, white and soft pink. No, not peach. Have you ordered it?" You listened with the little to no patience left in you. Thank God she hadn't ordered anything. "Haven't I told you to run this by my fiancé? I was in a meeting the whole afternoon." Again, you listened to your wedding planner. You turned to look at Harvey and the information Evelyn gave you. "Okay, Evelyn. You got everything covered?" You exchanged goodbyes after Evelyn told you she had everything under control. You just stared at Harvey as he raised his eyebrows at you. "What is it?" Harvey asked; he seemed oblivious. "You told Evelyn the roses at our wedding would be peach and white?" you asked in disbelief, especially after you briefed him on what to say when Evelyn called to make sure about the flower arrangements since you wouldn't be able to pick up her call. "I said soft pink, she asked peach, and I said yes. I thought she knew colors better than me, so I just said yes." Harvey answered nonchalantly. You sighed as the growing pain in your temple throbbed. "You didn't even try, Harvey!" You raised your voice at him. Harvey watched you as you rubbed your eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry. Okay? I thought it was the same color, and it was my fault that I didn't check on it. I'm sorry, okay?" Harvey took both your hands as he kissed them. You looked at Harvey with teary eyes. You never wanted a big wedding, but you wanted this to be perfect. Couldn't Harvey just understand that? "Oh, my sweet sunshine, don't cry. Please, I'm sorry." You felt the tears were impossible to hold as you started sobbing. Harvey took you in his arms and got his clothes wet in the process. "It won't happen again. It must be tiring to prepare for this wedding in such a short time. I'll be there for you, okay? I won't happen again."
But, of course, it happened again. Harvey Specter would do whatever Harvey Specter wanted.
You were at the venue, waiting for Harvey. You two were supposed to do cake tasting today. Along with the food selection and the floor plan, basically everything. It was just three weeks before the wedding, and you felt like everything wasn't going as planned. You felt like there were still a million things to do. It was your third glass of champagne. You saw Evelyn grow restless as she made sure of the floor plan. You checked your watch again. He was supposed to be here at 6. It was 8. You felt like you were about to cry. This seemed like your wedding, not your and Harvey's wedding. You walked over to Evelyn and apologetically asked for a reschedule. Evelyn, who probably saw the unshed tears of frustration in your eyes, kindly agreed.
It felt odd walking through the hallway, not in your working attire. It was always dresses, blouses, shirts, skirts, pants, and high heels. Today you were just dressed in a knit sweater, jeans, and loafers. It was a little over 9 pm when you reached Harvey's office. Harvey didn't even acknowledge your existence until you walked inside and sat on the sofa. "Sunny? Hey, I thought you were at home. Is everything okay? I'm a little busy here." Harvey then stood and walked over to you. You stood up abruptly before he even reached you. Harvey stopped, and just then he saw that you'd been crying. "What's wrong?" Again, Harvey tried to step closer to you, but you took a step back. "Cakes, floor plan. Ring a bell?" You could hear Harvey curse under his breath. "I swear to you, I forgot." Harvey was about to reach for you, but you raised your hand. "Like you forgot everything else regarding our wedding! Every fucking thing!" you shouted at him, but your voice came out hoarse. "I wanted this to be perfect, Harvey. For you, for me," a sob escaped as you messily tried to wipe the tears with the sleeve of your sweater. "You were adamant about proposing, about getting married; now that we are about to get married, you suddenly acted like none of this matters!" Harvey stood still as his heart broke, seeing you in tears. "You know what?" You took the heavy ring from your ring finger and put it loudly on the coffee table. Harvey watched you in horror. "If you aren't even ready for wedding preparations, forget ever being married. Being married will take more than flowers and cakes." With that, you left. Not turning back even when you heard Harvey calling out your name.
You quickly went to Harvey's apartment to take your apartment's keys. You couldn't remember the last time you stayed at your place. After moving in with Harvey, your apartment seemed to cease to exist.
But the thought of being alone in your apartment seemed depressing. So you walked around Central Park. You developed the habit of twirling your engagement ring when you were thinking. As you walked around, you were unconsciously about to twirl the ring, but it wasn't there. For a second, your heart stopped beating. Then you remember taking it off. You found a nearby bench and just sat there for, God knows, how long.
You finally decided to go to your apartment. It felt odd not to go to Harvey's. It was just a little over 11 when you opened the door.
"Harvey?"
You said in disbelief as you saw Harvey, still in his suit, standing over your dining table. His back was facing you; he seemed to be arranging something. Upon hearing your voice, Harvey jumped a bit. "I didn't hear you coming." Harvey smiled as he saw you. But his heart clenched when he saw your face all blotchy from crying. "What are you doing here? How did you know?" you questioned him as you walked further inside. You saw some plates; dome-shaped lids covered those plates. "When I got back, you weren't there. When I checked, your apartment's keys weren't there. So I figured you'd be here." You nodded at his explanation. "What are those?" You pointed to the dining table. "Come, sit with me," Harvey said. He offered you his hand while he waited for you to take it. But you walked past it as Harvey sighed. The two of you sat side by side. "I knew I missed the cake tasting. So I called Evelyn, and she helped me arrange our own cake tasting." Harvey said as he opened the lids one by one. You saw the familiar cakes you saw earlier. But you could see that these were fresh slices. "I messed up, again," Harvey turned to you as he took your hands. The warmth of his hand, the sincere look on his face. You cried again. "I'm sorry, I really am. There are no justifications for what I did. I will say nothing, but I'm sorry. I regret everything I did. God, when I saw you take off the ring, I thought I was about to drop dead." Harvey cleared his throat as his voice wavered. He then chuckled dryly before continuing, "I thought I lost you forever. How am I going to live without the only source of sunshine in my life?" His thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek. "I'm sorry too; I wasn't supposed to be so childish, leaving just like that," you whispered as you leaned into his touch. "No, it was never your fault. You are tired, and I didn't even try to help you." Harvey gave you a small smile, and you smiled back at him.
"I don't know," Harvey started, his mouth still filled with cake. "This one and this one," Harvey pointed at the black forest and chocolate truffle. You were too full of cakes to think about which one was which. Instead of taking bites, you and Harvey ended up finishing like 2 slices of each cake. "But you know what?" Harvey pointed a fork at you, and you just raised an eyebrow at him, too full to say anything. "I like the vanilla with fruit ones." You nodded. "Yeah, I like that too. So, is that the one we're choosing?" Harvey looked deep in thought. "If you like it, then yes." After Harvey heard you mumble a yes, he made a note on his phone. "What's that for?" you asked. "I gotta call Evelyn tomorrow to tell her that we've decided on the cake." He looked up from his phone, and you smiled at him. He smiled back at you and gave you a peck. "And I've rescheduled the food tasting, and we can also see the floor plan and everything tomorrow at 6. Does that work for you?" You smiled widely at him as you nodded. "Okay, awesome." He typed some more on his phone before he finally looked back at you. "We need to do one more thing." Harvey chuckled as you groaned. "Don't fret," Harvey said as he smeared icing on your lips. "I need to eat the rest of the cakes off of you."
MASTERLIST
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yikesmary · 11 months
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all fics are fluff unless stated otherwise. this will be constantly updated as i post a fic.
buy me a kofi?
REQUESTS: open / closed
taglist is now closed!
updated: april 14th, 2024
choi seungcheol / s.coups
series: ↪ fake dating roommates one two three four — summary: in which choi seungcheol becomes your roommate and fake boyfriend in one fell swoop. and you still don’t know how it happened.
one shots: ↪  pregnancy cravings — summary: where being pregnant comes with its struggles, and one of them just so happens to be the random pregnancy cravings. so, in the middle of the night, you try to sneak out and go to the convenience store nearby and buy something to satisfy your craving. however, your husband wakes up and insists to accompany you—even if he’s barely awake.  
↪ finally   — summary: in a last-ditch effort to study before your big final exam, you barricade yourself in your apartment in order to study as much as you can. on the day of your last exam, your boyfriend, seungcheol, finally sees you and comes with gifts.
↪ boyfriend duties — summary: after a night out with your friends, your boyfriend, seungcheol tries to take care of a drunk you. as he is helping you get ready for bed, you start mumbling about an interesting topic
↪ untitled (ANGST) — summary: the only thing I can tell you without giving out any spoilers: I am truly sorry for what I've done
↪ ruined birthday surprise — summary: in which you try your hardest to surprise cheol.
yoon jeonghan none for now
hong jisoo / joshua ↪ clockwork (ANGST) — summary: where it wasn’t supposed to be like this. but it did.
wen junhui / jun none for now
kwon soonyoung / hoshi ↪ savior — summary: where you save soonyoung from a horrible, wild beast. spoiler: it's a spider
jeon wonwoo ↪ book boyfriend — summary: who needs a fictional boyfriend when your real boyfriend was even better than the movies?
↪  cat dad — summary: whenever you go to your boyfriend, wonwoo's, house, his cat mimi. and he's totally not jealous because of this.
↪ bedtime routine — summary:  where you loved times like these with your boyfriend, wonwoo.
↪ marriage — summary: where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true. (contrary to the title, this one shot is lighthearted)
↪ birthday surprise — summary:  where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.
↪ moving on (ft. mingyu) — summary: in which giving up on kim mingyu seems to be the only solution, and jeon wonwoo is right there to help you out.
lee jihoon / woozi none for now
lee seokmin / dk none for now
kim mingyu ↪ puppy parents — summary: where your golden retriever has the tendency to bring you things she has an interest in— sticks, frisbees that obviously don’t belong to you, and even the occasional bird. but this time, your dog brings… a man? and not just any man, only the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. maybe your dog is onto something…
↪ husband duties — summary: where mingyu is the best support system for your pregnancy.
↪ drunk giant —  summary: in which you have to figure out how to transfer your drunk boyfriend to the bedroom without causing major bodily harm. and he’s not making it easy for you.
↪ shave —  summary: with your boyfriend’s comeback approaching, mingyu asks you to help with shaving.
↪ (not) a date night —  summary: sometimes it was hard dating an idol because of their busy schedules. after missing a date and being mia, mingyu tries to make it up to you.
↪ moving on (ft. wonwoo) — summary: in which giving up on kim mingyu seems to be the only solution, and jeon wonwoo is right there to help you out.
↪ hypnotized — summary: where you've got seventeen's mingyu hypnotized, and he doesn't mind it one bit.
xu minghao ↪ artblock — summary: trying to finish a commission, you find yourself stuck in what to paint. thankfully your boyfriend knows exactly what to do in order to help you get your inspiration back.
boo seungkwan none for now
hansol vernon chwe / vernon none for now
lee chan / dino none for now
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koolades-world · 10 months
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Animal lover Mc!
y'all one of the first questions I had when I started playing obey me was "what is going to happen to my pets while I'm gone??" obviously I would find a way to bring them with me I will NOT be separated from my babies just for some hot demon men
currently I have three cats and a dog, all rescues and eight foster kittens, like, who's gonna feed that many critters for the whole durations of the exchange program not to mention I would miss them!
the first question mc is asking is "where is my entourage?" and when Dia asks what, they're gonna continue to describe their pets in a way only a pet owner would understand. Lucifer understands because he himself is a pet owner
"Welcome to the Devildom! Any questions?"
"where is my entourage?"
"What are you talking about?"
"you know, my zoo? my shadows? my cutie babies? my sillies? my children?"
"Oh, do you mean your pets?"
"Lucifer how did you understand that"
life in the HoL is about to get ten times more chaotic let me tell you
since my dog is a rescue we don't know too much about her past but she does not like tall men and omg what a coincidence! the HoL is all tall men!!1! anyone that doesn't look like me is a red flag to her she's super sweet though once you give her time (one time my school bestie shook a posterboard at her like three years ago and she still remember it to this day and hates him for it)
she warms up eventually if you respect her and listen to her whims but girl... we all know Lucifer would be too prideful to conform to what a dog wants that isn't Cerberus. Satan is a cat person, Beel is a literal giant, Levi would be afraid. she would def like Mammon since he kinda looks like my dad, Belphie is always asleep and therefore can't be a threat to her, and everyone loves Asmo! including me and my dog!
idk about other dogs but my dog just loves to beg and I give in every time. Beel is always eating and probably will give her a little too since he also seems like the puppy eyes would work on him.
I feel like dogs love Levi but he's probably afraid
"AWUBCUOBWVCGJ MC HELP"
"Levi we talked about this"
"THAT THING IS THE REAL DEMON"
"Are we talking about the same dog? The one that gets excited every time someone arrives home? The one that does a cute little roll over trick? The one that warms your feet on cold nights?"
"DEMON DOG"
"She's just looking at you"
"IT GOT CLOSER WVADUVJIOSUBSDFO"
"Not helping you"
all of my personal cats are kinda jerks lol... don't get me wrong I love them but like if you aren't used to them (or if they aren't used to you) you will get bitten. two of them have valid excuses, one is an old man, a curmudgeon if you will, and one is a blind kitten so she doesn't take well to new sounds, especially new voices. but my other cat, about three years old now is literally just a brat LOL he once attacked me in my sleep cause i moved a little too much love him tho
just cat things in general, they knock over everything on counters and shelves, they zoom around in the middle of the night, they attack ankles! Satan is in love but Lucifer nearly kicks them
the middle cat loves to sleep in my bed with me, like right on top of me. on my head, on my chest, on my stomach, on my shoulder, on my face. so like, there's no room for anyone else in my bed. yes there might physically be room but my cat's ego is so big there isn't room for another
sorry hot demon men my cat comes first
Belphie would make an excellent pillow for all cats, he's warm, he doesn't move much and he won't care
"Do you know where Belphie is?"
"My room, but don't bother."
"Why?"
"The cats have taken him as their own"
"THAT SHOULD BE ME"
The more Asmo doesn't want cats in his room the more the cats will want to enter his room
omg Satan is about to be your bestie so much quicker than in the original arc. I love the love and care that was placed into befriending Satan but this is the quickest way into his heart
"You must be the exchange student. I... what's in there?"
"My cats"
"Lucifer is letting you have them in the house?"
"Yes?"
"You're coming with me. Bring the cats."
"What does that mean? Do you like cats?"
"there are no words to describe my love for cats as deeply as I care for them. they are magnificent creatures. you have single handily done what I have tried to do for millennia. you are my best friend now"
"We will get along just fine"
This isn't even mentioning all of the strange Devildom critters Mc would def befriend
They drag a different brother along each time to feed weird animals that show up in their yard
Feeding stray cats with Satan!!
Dia would totally take them on expeditions to go see Devildom animals in the wild even during school days
Speaking of that, Dia also makes regular trips to the HoL to visit any and all pets
He will never hear the end of it from Barb oh god he will die from all the animal fur he brings back with him
I love rodents but Barb does not...
Nobody tell him that Mc may or may not have a rodent
Mc rescues all of the rats that Barb tries to eliminate and sets them free far away from the castle
the possibilities are endless with this might make a part two
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gabessquishytum · 5 months
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Ive been lurking for a long time just eating other peoples ideas but i cant get over sleazy pickup artist hob having this religious pussy experience from this weird goth he met at a bar just standing there silently like a mannequin. I would love it if dream was only this unearthly beauty to HOB. Literally NOBODY ELSE gets why this crying wet cat bewitched him body and soul... hob is a total conman on the internet manosphere bc he looks like Alpha Male and he just says some bullshit he makes up on the fly and starts pyramid schemes. He stumbles out of that hookup dazed and confused but feeling like he needs to buy a ring and perhaps commission a golden statue. Hes Different after. Like his accounts drop off activity for a good long while as he tries so desperately to find this Weird Fucking Guy hes not quite sure was human at this point and when people start noticing what hes doing hes an absolute laughing stock but hes too busy pulling all nighters red strings on the corkboard to care hes like an obsessed mad scientist in a monster movie. He goes to that bar EVERY NIGHT. For 100 days. Then his magnificent stranger walks back in and orders a glass of milk at the bar and hob is ready to simp for the rest of his fucking LIFE. Morpheus is this guys Actual Name and hob realizes he could have just like,, looked him up online if he believed morpheus when he told him the next morning then left while hob was in the shower. But dream shares that he doesn't have social media. Or a computer. Or a phone. He pulls out this ancient flip phone held together with scotch tape and willpower so hob can enter his number. He types with one index finger on hobs screen to enter his own. Hob is gifted his presence for another night of insane sex where he almost dies like twice and comes more times in a row than he has in his life. Dream is completely unaffected by literally any media attention and No One Gets The Appeal. Hes like a cryptid and everyone knows who HOB is seemingly BUT dream and he really doesnt care about any of the questions he gets. Usually just responds with some shit like "you could be learning a new hobby right now. Try oil painting, perhaps the clarinet." Its not even beer goggles bc hob is following after this freak like a puppy in the middle of the afternoon wearing all black and a long jacket in August while he picks out the specific peanuts from a big barrel he would like to feed the birds at the park today.
-🔪
Yeah I absolutely love the idea that Dream is a weird skinny gremlin to EVERYONE. Except for Hob. Hob thinks he's an angel, a beautiful ethereal creature, Dream has literally saved Hob’s soul from the torments of cringey redpill internet content. Hob walks around with heart eyes 24/7, basically waits on Dream hand and foot. He doesn't give a shit if he gets ripped on online - he doesn't go online anymore, he's way too busy staring at the way the light filters into Dream’s eyes.
He's so down bad for Dream’s pussy it's almost comedic. He'll get on his knees and bed to be allowed just a sniff, just a moment with his nose between Dream’s legs. He'd buy Dream’s bath water but he's so lucky he doesn't even have to!!! He gets it for free!!!
All this to say: they're both freaks, no body gets why they're Like That but true love finds a way!
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