#fuck mutt behaviour

[dirt-str1der]

LOL

[konigsblog]

If this video doesn't scream Loser!König, then I don't know what does. (🌽 link)

MDNI 18+ — GETTING LOSER!KÖNIG OFF.

König wouldn't dare turn down your generous offer. Women avoid König like the plague, act as if he's infectious and contagious, and snarl at him when he attempts to engage in a conversation. Perhaps, it's due to his unsightly appearance, not fitting the ideal beauty standards with a large, Roman nose and scars littering his pale, freckled skin.

You? You're entertained, amused by his creepiness. Sure, he's pushy and has no concept of social cues and what's acceptable and what not — that it's highly inappropriate to plead with women for sex nonstop. He's nothing but humiliated the next morning after coming to the realisation of his sick behaviour.

König could barely string a coherent sentence together at your offer. König could only dream of this moment. He craves and longs for a woman's touch, to be held and toyed with, to feel your soft hands around his large, hung cock. But, he sure as hell wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity like this, that's for sure. It didn't take long for König to unfasten his belt and jeans, already pulling his hefty, growing boner from the tightness of his boxers. You grinned eagerly, admiring the sight of his lengthy, hard cock in front of you, with his breathing out of control and laborious.

“Please, give it to me, Mauschen...” He managed to huff out between strained groans. Your smaller fingers wrapped around the base of his girthy boner, with your lips pressed against his sticky tip. You giggled, your tongue collecting the pearly beads of arousal that oozed from his head. He whined, earning yourself an animalistic growl from the giant before you. He bucked into your hands desperately, with the texture of your skin leaving him delirious, especially in comparison to his rough, scarred hands. He heaved and panted like a filthy mutt in heat, choking on his words with each delicate, gentle, and careful stroke to his weeping dick. “Heilige Scheiße, mehr, gib mir mehr...–”

He's hypnotised each stroke, the gentleness and care in your touch, your sweet words, and the tender and playful kisses to the tip of his creamy dick. Fuck, look what you've done. He's attached now, little mouse, and he'll make sure he gets more, that's for sure.

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[bunnys-kisses]

hi love, may i have some sourdough bread and coffee with max (in a sort of twisted, claiming my rival as mine way). thank you so much and more power to your bakery 💚

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am happily working away at the bakery! clockin' in those hours!! this prompt made me shove all other projects to the side. you literally picked at two of my faves, haha. like YEAH!! so i hope you love this, this was a pleasure to write (now back to my other projects)!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, driver!reader, filth (!!!), smoking, baby trapping, missionary

you sighed and looked over your shoulder, the cigarette still between your fingers, "are you going to keep staring, verstappen or are you going to come over here?"

he uncrossed his arms and went over. he plucked the cigarette out from your fingers and took a drag, "girls like you shouldn't smoke. not very feminine."

you took the cigarette back and looked at him, "oh maxie, if you wanted a girly girl, you watched the ship sail years ago. i used to punch your bullies."

he sighed. you were right. childhood friends to rivals on the track with a dash of friends with benefits or whatever label of the month you chose to define your relationship.

max knew one thing. he wanted to mark you inside and out. he wanted to make sure that you were his. to call what he felt for you love was to call an inferno a spark. as he watched you smoke, he thought about putting his lips on your neck. he wanted to dig his blunt teeth into your throat and watch it bloom purple.

he also wanted to fuck you over the balcony, letting whoever down below know exactly where you belonged. under him. he hated you ferrari as much as he hated you in alpine only two years earlier. he always thought you belonged with red bull, not as a driver, but as a wag.

lately something else had been curling inside of him like a snake about to strike. the rattle of its tail warning his brain that this was what got him going. you. pregnant. with his kid.

end your name's legacy on the track and replace it with his. make sure that your name doesn't end up on the track for a good while, while verstappen survives, if not thrives for a long time to come. if you can't beat a rival on the track, get 'em pregnant!

you stamped out your cigarette of the cement ledge of the balcony before you dropped the butt to the ground. you looked at max, "you're staring at me like i'm a four course meal. can't find someone to get your dick went tonight?"

he had been lying for some time about getting sex elsewhere. it was impossible to sleep with other women when he was thinking about you. he even tried to find women that looked like you but it never cut it.

he snaked an arm around you middle and press his nose into your hairline, "it's been a while since we.. got together. don't you think?"

you looked at him and smiled a little, "are you asking me for sex, mister verstappen?" you chuckled, "i think that breaks several rules." you made a face.

he looked around briefly before he pulled you in for a firm kiss. when he pulled away and said, "if no one knows, is it really rule breaking?" he knew you could never say no to him, so after qualifier when he found a key card to your hotel room in his driver's room, he knew that had scored.

the sex between you two was passionate. it was never a dull moment. when he let himself into your hotel room like he owned the place, you were naked drying off after a shower.

"you dog." you said as you dropped the towel and headed towards the bedroom portion of the hotel room. max followed behind like a happy little mutt with his cock straining in his jeans.

he began to undress when you got up onto the bed. he watched you sitting at the edge while he took his belt off and jeans. you admired his toned figure. he wasn't ugly.

you had seen every phase of max, you two have known each other for far too long. that added to the rush of it all. it would make sense to anyone on the outside that you two would end up together and have like five kids. but instead the games you played were wicked.

once he was naked, he got on top of you. his impressively sized cock rubbed against your sweet pussy. he could feel the wetness against his achy tip.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, his blue eyes bore into yours as he made sure to tighten your legs around him.

you chuckled, "yeah right, verstappen. i think your swimmers died like a million years ago from all the racing." you held onto the pillow under your head. your legs wrapped around him tightly.

he laughed, "fine, fine. i'm joking. i think you're right." he was playing it off cool as if he didn't feel like he was going to jump out his bones at the prospect of getting you stuffed fat with his cum.

you laughed, "you and your dirty talk, verstappen. you always talk about wifing me up and me having your children. like i'm going to retire from racing." you tensed up for a moment when he eventually sank his cock into your soaked pussy.

he fit like a glove, that was how he knew. it was like he molded your pussy for him. no other man could have you and he was going to make sure of that. when he was done with you, you'd be at least five percent dutch.

that'll give you enough to give your hefty sons nice, strong names. legacy names for the track. he rutted against you, heavy, strong strokes. his cock nudged inside of you as he planted his hands on either side of you.

"you look good like this." he said as he pressed himself against you. your soft, pretty tits pressed against his chest as he moved against you.

you were only going to get more beautiful with time. the thought excited him. knowing that he had marked you in such an intimate way, a way that no other driver could. you were his, it was as simple as that!

the idea of you having another rival (or partner) made his skin crawl. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he could predict your movements easily both on and off the track. as he bullied his cock into your sweet pussy, he knew that he was the right fit for you.

he pressed his nose into your neck and continued to thrust into you. your pussy was soft and wet for him. a warmth went through his body as he rocked against you.

"i want to breed you. make you my wife. keep you home with our family. you don't need to be on the track anymore. you've scored more points than any other woman. so, it's time to settle down. we'd make some strong racers." he panted and felt the sweat down his back as he thrust into you.

you held the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "you're a funny guy, verstappen. if you get me pregnant, that kid is getting my last name. and they'll be racing under my country's flag."

he smirked to himself against your neck. you say that now, but a lot can change with time. he dug his fists into the covers and picked up the pace. he loved being so close to you.

your heart close to his. it was almost intimate if it wasn't for the hateful filth that was coming out of your mouths.

"i want you always. i want to ruin you for other men. and i'll make sure that you're not sleeping with other guys." he knew a sure fire way to prevent that, hard to fuck other men when you're full of his child.

"max. you're fucking insane." you panted as you looked at him once more. he knew that you were feeling the height of pleasure, and that honestly made him harder.

that he made you this way.

"i'm fuckin' close."

"good, good. my good wife." he purred, which only made you more turned on. god, what a possessive little freak with the breeding kink!

you clutched onto him tightly and almost bit down on his neck as you came. it washed over you and you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed. then you continued to cling onto him like a lifeline.

he liked the feeling of that and soothed you with gentle words and kissed as he felt close to his own climax.

"max... c'mon. fuck." you moaned as you dug your pretty nails into his back.

he soon after cursed loudly as he slammed his cock into you, making sure you took every last inch. he wanted to make sure that he finished far enough into you that his cum didn't have anywhere else to go but into your womb.

that was his objective. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts. you moaned into the kiss and laid there under him, breathless.

he slowed down his thrusts to catch his breath. you were still clutching the covers under you. you looked amazing under him, he was right. it was where you belonged.

he placed both hands on your stomach and started to thrust once again. one orgasm wasn't going to cut it for him. if he was going to make you a verstappen, it meant making sure his dna stuck to your sweet pussy.

you'd eventually race on sunday with cum still staining your panties and a pray that no one would notice.

-

it was july now and the heat was getting unbearable. it didn't help that sitting on your hips was a six month pregnant belly. you had spent since may in the nice little sundresses that max had picked out for you.

he was painfully doting, making sure the mother of his child had anything she needed. after all, you retirement was sudden and early. such a strong driving career cut short.

"you look so good." he'd often say and his large hands spanned your swollen middle in the hopes to feel his son shifting around. you knew the asshole got off to this.

you were trying to teach your unborn child as much of your mother tongue as possible, while he'd curl up with our middle at night and speak dutch. when you tried to stop him, he simply pressed into you further.

even parenthood felt like a small rivalry.

max believed that he won the rivalry, he was about to championship that year after blood tests came back that you were pregnant. you could've killed him when you stomped out of the doctor's office and almost strangled him.

you'd hate to admit it, but there was a domesticity that you sort of liked. while you were still trying to find things to do post-driving, it was nice to be in one place at one time. what had felt like your entire life had been on planes going between tracks. the press didn't bother you as much once the news cycle of your pregnancy died down and you could just be you.

while you wanted to kill max still, even as he was snuggled up beside you on the couch, his arm draped over your bump, you honestly couldn't ask for a better baby daddy. you wouldn't let max have his victory in your little rivalry, even as the gold ring you wore gleamed in the afternoon light, you'd never admit to your husband that he had bested you. because the way you looked at it, since you shared the same last name, it was your trophy too. <3

[neetily]

Oh... To be a simple little puppy!girl... Forced into entering a relationship with your big scary new wolf!boyfriend...

— ✧ warnings: hybrids, noncon/dubcon, forced relationship, manipulation, naïve reader, name calling, dacryphilia, size difference, kidnapping, knot mention, pregnancy mention, marking, tummy bulge — ✧ word count: 2,282

— ✧ A/N: Just a quick little drabble, a small little scenario. Just to get things started on my blog! If you read, thank you very much. I hope you enjoy!

In a dog-eat-dog world, sometimes quite literally, it's no surprise that a lonely little pup like you found yourself in some hot water every now and then. Oh, but it's not your fault, sweet girl! You're just a silly little pup, aren't you? So soft and sweet, a shy little thing with your floppy puppy ears down to match your low hanging head— despite your attempts to avoid confrontation, it's only natural that trouble always finds you somehow, some way. You're just too tempting to the jaws of those bigger, stronger, and far more superior to you, always. It's only natural for you to submit to the likes that stalk the streets, the very same way that it's in your very bones to shake and quiver and to let out those meek little puppy whines for help when you find yourself cornered. So cute, aren't you?

He's always adored scared little puppies like you. You're always the easiest to obtain.

Chasing off those who had found you all alone was easy enough. Buncha dogs, mere mutts to his more imposing wolfish appearance. Not that he's much better than them deep down, really. He's just scarier, though his intentions remain the same, that's all. Mighty maw snarling insults and barking orders at those who dare threaten you, pearly white fangs already coated in shiny saliva at the mere thought of whisking you away all for himself instead. No, it wasn't a bother to scare off the admittedly much larger than you dogs from the dark, damp alleyway, ears pointed and hackles raised to play the role of protector for a moment. Much like how it wasn't any issue to coax your tucked tail shivering body into his big open palms, in spite of the way his long tail swished behind him with insidious interest.

Little pups like you never understand the kinds of situations you somehow always find yourselves in until it's too late, and it's not his fault that you can't see through his faux concern. You should know better than now, silly girl! You can't blame him for smirking when you fall for his false platitudes, or mumbled niceties so easily. God, he'd say literally anything you wanted if it meant you'd get all cozy in his car without complaint anyway ; but it's nice when all it takes is the promise of taking you home. A nice, easy, fuck.

Dummy. Stupid little mutt, you deserve a fucking wake up call for your bad behaviour, he thinks.

You're lucky you're so cute, chained up next to him the moment he brought you home (see, he didn't really lie, did he?) like that. The sleek black collar adorning your neck only makes you look even prettier with the way the leather shines from under you, reflecting against your tear stained cheeks so sweetly for him, he almost thinks it's on purpose. As if your body itself is pandering to his weak spots, begging for his attention as he keeps you held in captivity.

Really, he hadn't meant to keep you for so long. A night or two at most, enough to have his fun with you before sending you back out to fend yourself against the plentiful other wolves who'd enjoy feasting on you, sinking their big fangs into your soft body, marking you all up.

But there's just something about you that begs him to reconsider. You're so small compared to him, allowing him to easily lift and bend and mishandle you however he sees fit— small for even puppy standards, there's no way you could ever fend for yourself, and he finds himself wanting to protect that part of you. Those big adoring puppy eyes you flutter up at him when he tugs on your collar between his meaty thighs. The way your tiny little ears twitch and perk up upon the guttural growls your kitten licks coax out of him. That pretty tail of yours, giving your enjoyment away with fast flicks and quick wags in spite of the water that wells at your lash line.

And of course, the way you babble and hiccup with big fat teardrops rolling down your cheeks every time he manages to fuck half his cock into your squishy little puppy pussy— training, he'd growled down at you the first couple of times. But his patience wears thin; wolves aren't known for their proficiency in waiting, are they?

"C'mon, mutt—" He tries to encourage you, fangs flashing in delight as the way your cunt at least tries to adhere to his hoarse command, tone reprimanding in spite of the fact that he's at least in part trying to motivate you. It's simply in his nature to dominate you, he reasons with himself. And the way your body responds with shivers and squeaks upon every harsh hump of his cock deeper into your too tight little cunt only tells him that you want to give in to him too, even if it's difficult to fit every pulsing inch of his cock inside of your tiny little hole. It's just too easy to pin you down under him, face down, ass cradled by his slamming hips as he attempts to bury himself to the hilt prematurely. So easy to completely encase your tiny little puppy body under his far bigger wolf presence that he'd be a fool not to give your body what it's asking for, leaning down over you so that his front is pressed snug to your back and he can huff growls down your heated ears; you could never even hope to escape his full body weight, little dog. "M'not askin', know y'can do it, pup." He reminds you, pressing his sharp canines against your neck, letting your collar dig harshly against your skin— a reminder, that no matter how much you protest, he's only giving your body what she wants, baby.

And he's no fool. He knows how much you struggle to take him, and he knows how much you likely dislike how rough he is with you. Tugging and pulling and ruining you every chance he gets, simply because he's bigger than you, and what is a mere pup to a wolf? He bets you can't fucking stand the way he treats you like some scrap of meat, especially considering that he's kept you cooped up all alone in his room to play with until he grows bored. But he isn't. Not yet. Mounting you from behind like the dog he is, panting and slobbering all over your neck in between greedy gulps of your sickly sweet scent. So fucking good, smell so good it's unfair, a needy whine crawling up his throat for him to bite back with a bark instead. The way you struggle to even sob from under him only makes his cock harder, unfortunately.

And he can fuckin' smell how much that puppy pussy wants his knot too, forcing his throbbing cock against your gushing insides like his life depended on impregnating you, splitting you in two regardless of your docile wails as he makes his cock fit into your too tight little cunt. Trembling at the way your cunt squirms around his intrusion, breath caught in his throat from just how fucking perfect you feel, all nice and tight and wet. For him, right?

Oh, he knows why you were cornered in that alleyway now. Even he can't resist the allure of your pitifully sobbed whines for more, or for the tight suck of your insides, slick gushing out of your overstuffed cunt with every greedy hump forward he makes. Forcing his wolven claim upon you, marking up your insides with his fucking stink so that everyone knows who you now belong to. There's nothing you can do to avoid the bite of his sharp nails as they dig into your soft skin either, marking up every inch of you that he can reach in some sort of primal ritual of mine. Mine, mine, mine, so that no one else even thinks about cornering you again, because from now on, with the pop of his cock fully sheathed inside of your tight hole, you're his property. A snivelling, sobbing, sloppy little mess of some property, but his nonetheless.

How could he ever imagine letting go of you when you feel so perfect anyway? No, the chance encounter he had with you one night is all it took for him to find the perfect pretty mate. mounting your ass like he's never done before with any of the other cheap fucks he's experienced, forcing you to take his fat cock deeper with every thrust forward, almost folding you in half from the sheer weight behind his fucks to turn you into something that resembles more of a squeaky toy than his newfound beloved mate.

But you're so perfect for him. Simply taking his assault because there's nothing you can truly do about it. Because your body begs for more. Fucking himself silly in your perfect angel cunt, fucking you stupid if the way you choke on your words every time his tip kisses against your cervix is anything to go by, the slick sound of wet skin on skin slapping together as his heavy balls knock against you clit ringing in his perked up ears, moans snarled down at you like some sort of scolding. How dare you feel so good, fucking mutt. Y'should be thankful that it was me that found you and some some other sort of sick fuck.

Don't worry, he understands the irony behind his thoughts.

But the way you keen for more, back arched so prettily for his eyes to feast on, fucking you with his stare as well as his cock, rendering your cunt a squelchy concoction of the copious amounts of precum his cock leaks out for you, spit drooling down from his open and puffing maw to help aid the smooth glide in and out, and your creamy cunt slick; looks so good when forming a ring around the base of his cock, wolf tail twitching behind him in preparation for what comes next.

There's really only one way to properly claim you, he muses to himself. His humping is relentless, stroking himself off in your warm pretty pussy, a consistent stream of curses escaping his dry throat as he gets closer to that edge.

Sound so pretty when you cry for him too, "S'it too much?" He mocks you, "Aw, poor mutt..." He'd rumble laughter down at you, chest tight with affection when you do your best to take him anyway— whether it's forced or not. Faux sweet tone matching his brutal thrusts perfectly, ridiculing you for the way you cry out for him because it's easier than admitting to just how much your tears turn him on. How even just the thought of making you cry on his fat cock is enough to get him rock hard, never mind to fuck the tears out of you with unfair fucks right this moment. Besides, this is what you fucking owe him. He deserves some form of reward for saving you from those big scary dogs, right? Keeping you completely encased in his large stature, shielding you from view of all else in the room— "Mine," He huffs against your neck, letting his tongue loll out to coat you in his sticky saliva, just like how your cunt juices coat his thighs all tacky with slick. "My mate, fuckin' all mine from now on, yeah?"

He won't take no for an answer. Not when you feel so good, pretty puppy pussy squeezing around his fat wolf cock so well, the addition of his thumb slipping carefully between your folds to rub harshly at your clit to have you creaming his cock is enough of a persuasion to have him follow through with his rabid claims of ownership. Yeah, that's it, he can't let you leave now. The feeling of your cunt insides squishing and sucking and truly suffocating his fat cock is enough to convince him otherwise, fully giving in to his more primal instincts with fast vicious fucks to knock the wind out of you as you cum around his length. As if trying to prove his usefulness to you, to prove himself as a worthy mate, capable of fucking you so good and thoroughly that you've got no choice but to melt under him. Fucking you full to the point of tummy bulging, his hand under you stroking himself off as much as he twitching against your insides with insidious promise, and then he's spilling inside. Keeping you locked on his knot so that you can't go wandering off, even if you claw for escape. Pumping you so full of his thick cum that some of it spills out around him from his repeated miniscule thrusts. Jus' wants to make sure your puppy womb takes to it, rubbing his cum coated tip along your cervix in an attempt to knock you up, to breed his newfound mate on the first fuck.

Poor thing, he can feel how hard your hole squeezes around his fat knot, milking him for all he's worth, pretty little mewls hitting his perked up ears to share your sheer delight. "That's it—" He coos down at you, huffing and puffing for air after exerting so much energy, in spite of the way his cock still yet throbs for you. "Jus' sit tight for a minute, pup. Promise t'make y'feel all better soon."

And for once, he means it. The once play pup now turned mate, it's his duty to see to you from now on.

Only after he's done filling you up, though.

[karlachismylife]

Blind Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.3

CW: fem!chubby!reader, kinda stalking and privacy invasion (what privacy out in the savanna though), mentions of pissing/marking

You're still shaken even by the end of the day, and you're not alone in this state: no one fancies being trampled, no matter how beuatiful the wild black and white horsy lolipops are, and even the local guides look unnerved by today's brush with a horrific death. So you don't feel weird when you find yourself restless and on high alert deep into the barely moonlit night - even though Kir has it better than you and breathes evenly in the sleeping bag next to you, he mutters something like "careful" when you climb out of your tent. He understands, doesn't complain - honestly, a great fucking guy to have as your friend here.

The night is quite cooler than the frying pan that the days out here are, but it's still relatively warm and filled with loud noises, making it feel much more welcoming, even though by logic you should be more afraid of the darkness filled with so much wildlife than of a still, silent night. You and your human vision are no better than unsuspecting antilopas stocking up on some grass for an upcoming migration - an easy target for a silent predator, whose glinting eyes in the night vision camera will be the last thing flashing before it pounces you.

But then again, you have everyone around you to alert of an intruder: cautious birds, crickets, loud enough to make your eardrums vibrate as you pass their invisible high grounds on quiety rustling grass blades. Even some distant monkeys calling each other, ready to warn everyone around them like the good neighbours they are. That's probably more than your human neighbours in the city would do for you, if they even had noticed an intruder under late night TV or headphones.

Surely, you're safe enough in the confines of a camp to step aside and pee before going back to sleep.

You turn around to be greeted with a sight straight out of Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles, savannah edition. A huge, dog-like figure, looming right in the passage between tents ominously, a bare skull where its head should be.

If you didn't have to piss before, you sure do now.

The animal seems to sense the way your heart drops, fingers growing cold immediately, a potential shriek stuck in your throat, and moves. Takes a step back. Gets its lowered, unthreatening head out of the complete darkness - a pair of plush, round ears, one chipped harshly, light mane and an uneven patch of lighter fur on its mangled, but still adorable in its way, muzzle (so that's the skull) revealed.

A fucking hyena. Again. At least not the one that already took a habit of nuzzling up to you and using your backpack as its toilet - although, judging solely by size, this one would be more dominant - even though dominant hyenas don't usually go around looking like they were mauled by their whole clan. Still, who's to say it won't decide to go and spray over the other's scent just to prove who's more important? A single thought of getting your stuff double-scented makes your eyes water. Hyenas fucking stink.

"Don't you dare come piss on my stuff, you fucking Baskerville mutt," you threaten the hyena quietly, backing off into the patch of grass you intended to water. The hyena scoffs at you, but bows its head again. Its eyes - just two glistening orbs in the scarce lighting you have here - don't seem all that pleading and submissive, like the other one's did, but you know better than to judge animals by their eyes. They're not humans, no matter how similar their behaviour sometimes is, and you have to rely on indicators like their stance and vocalization.

Your ghostly visitor seems to be pretty calm. Perhaps got attracted by the unfamiliar hyena's smell you brought with yourself, and now is mostly confused and wary of the bulky tents with many humans inside - and one lucky human outside.

"There's no food for you here. You better go hunt somewhere else, or you'll be hungry," you try not to think that there is very much food for the hyena - namely, you - and back away further. The hyena that seemed quite content with just standing in one place all hauntingly, suddenly moves, pushes its ears back and whoops at you, making you stop abruptly.

The grass right where your foot would be planted moves silently and a single glint of a snake hurrying away from the big clumsy distrubance sends a shiver down your spine. You can't make out what snake it was, but you sure as hell don't mind never knowing compared to the other alternative. You shoot a glance at the hyena in its guarded position, and you find yourself able to follow the snake's path by the subtle movements of your fluffy savior's eyes. Huh. Not even a full twenty-four hours, and you're already saved twice by hyenas. If that's not the biggest middle finger to the Lion King, then what?

"Do you mind staying on watch while I pee, maybe?" you chuckle, teasing the hyena - surely it doesn't understand you, but it lets out a low whiny growl, as if acknowledging that it heard you try and communicate with it. You comtemplate hiding behind someone's tent (that's not very neighbourly, though) or a rover (too far, and who knows how many more snakes are there to taste your ankles along the way), but the train of thought lands back where you started: putting on a show in front of a hyena out of a ghost story.

You'll just have to pray that it doesn't consider you simply relieving yourself as an attempt to assert dominance or call dibs on its territory.

Surprisingly, the hyena averts its eyes as you crouch down in an uncomfortable position, your legs already cramping and the very real fear of anything crawling into your panties keeping you from actually letting go. When you finally manage, your guard's ears twitch, turning to the hissing sound, but it almost makes a point to keep its muzzle turned away - the logical explanation would be that there's actually something more interesting for the animal in the direction it's looking at. But you can dream of a respectful hyena ghost standing guard while you struggle to pull your pants back up, right?

You circle the hyena on the way back, keeping your eyes on it the whole time, and it turns its big patterned head to follow you too, wagging its tail lazily once or twice as you nearly stumble on the uneven ground. You only turn away from him, pretty much fed up with your night escapades (what did you want though, you're in the middle of the animal kingdom), as you try to open your and Kir's tent.

And then you hear the rustling and a low grumble. Alerted, you lift your head, prepared to scream as a last attempt to wander the predator off, only to find it fully laying on the ground, snout-first in the dust, rolling around and getting sand and dirt into its mane as it rubs its hide desperately at a certain spot on the ground.

The spot you just peed on.

"Ew, pervert," you react faster than you should, words slipping out as if you were actually witnessing a human do the same, not an animal that's very much used to rubbing its scent off on others and recieving the same treatment. But then again, what hyena wants human scent on its fur?

The hyena seems to hear you though. Its jolly tossing stops immediately, and you meet its huge dark eyes for a moment, before it makes another whiny grumbling noise - much more high-pitched this time, as if you caught the poor furry baby off guard and embarassed it - and scatters away, rushing silently through the night until it simply dissolves into the darkness.

Just like a ghost should.

Part 2 | Part 3.5 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861

honestly i don't know if posting updates so fast is a good idea, but i'm an attention whore and seeing people enjoy this thing overdozes me on dopamine better than any differential equation could, so i'll try and make updates as each previous chapter reaches a 100 notes. also a reminder that i will eventually block ageless blogs interacting at least with the nsfw chapters, so please take a minute and put your age in your bio or pinned post!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

[puppyplayhouse]

Hybrid owner Chan getting sick of your attitude!

Warnings: CNC sort of, forced oral (Chan receiving), degrading, riding, manipulation (?), sort of forced creampie, implied multiple rounds. Filth! Absolute filth.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐩་༘࿐

You've been so cranky the past week. He'd offer you something, you'd reject it. He'd take you somewhere, you'd sulk the whole time. Even when he tried to be affectionate, you were growling at him. He could usually grin and bear it. He could usually lead with patience, understanding that Hybrids didn't communicate the same way humans did.

You usually weren't such an asshole.

It's 2am by the time he gets in from the studio, and you're sitting on the couch with the volume up loud on a cartoon he couldn't care enough to take interest in. The fact that you had a staggered sleep schedule never bothered him until you decided his rules were no longer to your liking.

"Can you turn that down, please?" He asked as calm as he could, stiffling that bite that dared enter his tone as you ignored him. "Are you listening to me?" He hears you scoff and its enough for him to snap, growling his own threat as he makes his way to the couch, right hand finding your hair and tugging your head back to force eye contact as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes.

"This fucking attitude isn't very flattering on you." He's not speaking to you so much as at you, and he tugs harder at your hair when your mouth opens to speak what he assumes will be a snarky comment in return. "Don't you fucking dare talking back to me."

He shoves you forward and walks around to the front of the couch, yanking your arm to pull you down onto the floor before sitting, shaking his head in disapproval as you settle between his spread thighs. He's quick to work the zipper of his pants down, his cock shoved into your mouth within seconds leaving you no time to think about what was happening if you wanted to avoid choking violently on your own saliva.

"All fucking week you've been acting like some fucking stray. I do everything for you and all I fucking ask is for you to act like you know how to behaviour around people." He's holding your head down as he speaks, your nose pressed firmly against his abdomen sending a subtle rush of fear to your stomach. "Can't even fucking do that, can you?"

He waits for you to try and push away from him before he lets you up at all, still keeping you trapped on his cock but with just enough room to catch your breath. He can tell your mind is going empty the more pliant you become, struggling less as he harshly thrusts his cock down your throat. It's guaranteed that you won't be able to speak easily tomorrow, and maybe that's for the best.

"You wanna act like a bitch, yeah?" It's not really a question, and he laughs as you stare up at him with watery eyes and saliva streaking your chin. You look completely clueless, watching him pat his thigh as an unspoken signal for you to climb into his lap, which you follow, yelping as he grabs at your thighs and tugs your panties to the side, no remorse tinting his voice as his cock is shoved into your admittedly dripping hole. "You wanna act like a bitch so I'm gonna fucking treat you like one."

He doesn't even allow you to set the pace, holding your hips in place to allow just enough room for him to thrust up into you. He fills you in all the right ways, and the subtle burn from the lack of preparation just pushes you further into the mind-numbing pleasure he forces on you. It would be impossible for you to speak even if you wanted to, your tongue poking out of your mouth as you pant, truly embodying the word 'desperation' in a way that made him smirk dangerously.

"Filthy little mutt. Needed your owner to fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? Is my dumb slut that desperate for cock?"

You nod eagerly, moaning at his cruelty as your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt.

"Fucking pathetic. Gonna have to fill you up with the way your cunt is gripping me."

Your eyes widened with panic, having never experienced such a thing with him before. You really do try to voice your concern, but his fingers sliding into your mouth make it so difficult to think, and you know it won't make a difference. It's too easy to just take what he gives you and worry about the consequences later.

"That's it, Pup. Take it all." He groans into your neck as he thrusts, only lasting a minute or so before he's cumming inside you, the overflow dripping down between your bodies.

You take a few minutes to gain a little sanity back before trying to move, only to be stopped by his firm grip.

"You don't think I'm done yet, do you?"

[dxstopiaa]

Could I request dom albedo , alhaitham or dottore with submissive nervous and sensitive puppy hybrid gn reader ^-^ honestly just a cute little pathetic mutt <3

characters: dom! character x gn! hybrid! reader warnings: degradation, mentions of heat, aphrodisiac, bondage. [this is very VERY far from my usual writing style and preferences but…first time for everything? i hope it’s to your expectations anon! i tried.. \(^ヮ^)/]

albedo

⊹ Albedo most definitely vows to investigate every inch of you— who’s so sexually aroused all the time, as if you were held in the locked grasp of a permanent rut.

⊹ His expression is cold as ever, pulling your limbs into all sorts of exposing positions and yet he still remains with that distant look. That is, until he sees it fit to inject you with all sorts of alchemical substances.

⊹ Within minutes you’re already whimpering, making a mess of your bare groin, nipples perky and hypersensitive to even the briefest of touches. Don’t fret too much— a responsible alchemist always has a antidote at hand. Not that he’ll end up using it.

⊹ Cry and whine as much as you’d like, for Albedo continues to stroke your erogenous areas, he’s most fond of your ears, droopy and downcast from the momentary neglect.

⊹ He’ll finally sink you down onto his cock when he becomes too hard to hear himself, muttering how desperate and immature you truly were. You can’t do anything but slouch your pathetic, little self against his shoulder as he fucks you for the chase of his own release.

⊹ Abandon the idea of finishing alongside him, before you know it your boyfriend will pull out and retrieve his clipboard for his observations without giving you a chance to cum. Consider it punishment for your slutty behaviour. It’s harsh or nothing at all, believe me, he’s doing you a favour.

“You’re so warm, is it the aphrodisiac or just the effect i have on you? Never mind, I wouldn’t want to worry your diminutive brain.”

alhaitham

⊹ He’s all you’ve been thinking of since that dream. A cynical scholar who wouldn’t give a care to anyone else, you’re an exception it seems. You’re always so clingy, latching onto his bicep with your tail swinging excitedly when he doesn’t retaliate.

⊹ Alhaitham— the man who’s making you sit in his lap, shoving an erotic novel he caught you reading earlier into your hands. Someone needs to tell you how to control your sex drive, he thinks. His large, calloused hands stroke gentle ministrations along your crotch, watching you lose your words.

⊹ An anxious, stuttering mess you were. The whole situation sprouted the idea of grinding against his thighs, so much so that concentration had been discarded long ago. You’re trying your hardest.

⊹ He’s shaming you at this point, sarcasm and mockery dripping with every word that fell out of his filthy mouth. Well-versed in vocabulary, even more so with sex. You can’t even say a complete sentence. How piteous.

⊹ Now it seems you’ve pushed him along further, he’s reenacting what you’ve read so far, a meagre amount. If you can’t say it, you can’t have it. You emit broken sobs as he taunts his dick at your hole, yet makes no move. You attempt to push him in with your hips yet that only earns a tug to your nipples.

⊹ Your ears perk up with every half thrust he finally initiates, the scandalous sound of your thighs hitting his lap desperately. Alhaitham thinks it’s adorable, you’re so out of touch with your own emotions he has to fuck them back into your body.

⊹ You find yourself covering your face with embarrassment at the shameful names he calls you, tugging on your tail when you don’t respond to him on whether you like them or not. Poor thing, you’re just forced to say yes!

“You want what? Sorry, i can’t hear you with all this whimpering, read louder, little puppy.”

dottore

⊹ A mere test subject you were, but Dottore finds himself playing favourites. You’re just so cute, the first to please and do as he asks. It’s almost like you’re begging him to fuck you on display. Of course, he’ll do just that.

⊹ The Doctor adores making a fool out of a doll like you, purposely making you suck his thick cock infront of the other subjects, rubbing your ears and relishing in the downright sinful moans it coaxes out of you, vibrating all along his dick.

⊹ He will strip you naked, crimson eyes scrutinising your perfect figure for anything to tease you about. If he finds none, Dottore’s bound to leave bruised lovebites on your inner neck.

⊹ If you dare to flinch the slightest at his degrading remarks, the harbinger will command you to sit on his lap as he lightly pulls your tail and spanks your plush ass, a desirable role model of obedience for the other prisoners, but now he thinks he’ll keep you for himself.

⊹ You’re his private slut at this point, you reside in his office curled up on his bed. Whenever you feel like your heat is approaching, Dottore will already have your legs spread wide on the sheets.

⊹ Thicker wires of rope and metal rubbed over your skin, keeping you hostage in the doctor’s merciless grasp. You’d never know what he’d like to try on you next.

“Are you that desperate? Do all bitches like you not know how to control themselves? Hah!”

[soapppp]

Soap is alright with Gaz making fun of him for his puppy like behaviour. He’s okay with Price calling him a mutt when he gets dirty paw prints all over the base hallways. He’s more than happy to obey when Ghsot whistles at him to sit or lay or move. Soap knows that werewolves are, at heart, dogs. They play, they chew up couches, they whine and argue with yippy barks, they make a mess with their thick fur and drool in their sleep. Try as he might to hate it, Soap knows that it’s natural for him to want to chase the large blue ball Gaz rolls down the hall way. He doesn’t care that he once broke his tail from wagging it so hard when he stole Price’s hat and made the older man chase him around the base.

But then….

It was a simple mission, something they had all done a hundred times over. Only this time, Soap was without his captain and his fellow Sargent and his collar felt too lose without Ghost pulling it around. Soap was fine with that, until he found himself working with a Lieutenant Manes. The man was alright, a good leader and quick thinker, but even upon meeting him Soap had a bad feeling.

The man didn’t tug at his collar like Ghost did, instead he pulled at Soap’s chin hair and growled at him to “stay the fuck down you overgrown dog”. He let out loud whistles and expected Soap to know what they meant, pushing him down by his snout when he hesitated as he tried to get a grasp on what he was asking. Manes threw a Grenade at some point and pinched Soaps ear, “that’s a grenade, mutt. Not a fucking toy, don’t chance it.” Soap had wanted to snap back that he was a demolition expert and knew the dangers of a grenade better than Manes, but as he realised the man was mocking him for a dogs love of playing fetch…

Soap came home from the mission and instantly Price was taking him out back and letting him shift into his smaller form, cupping his maw and patting his ears. Apparently another member of the 141, a goddamn rookie, had sent word to Price on the way back from the mission of how Manes had been treating their star wolf. Price let him sleep in his office that night, curled up at his feet while Gaz brushed his fur.

He didn’t ask where Ghost was, already knowing the answer.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Good Pup ☆ One Shot

☆Mean!Sciences Proffesor!Divus Crewel x College Freshman!Fem!Reader:

After seeing you excel in his class, Professor Crewel interest had peeked. You were not from this world, and your academic knowledge was far too different from what was taught here, too different for it to be considered fair for you to study such material at the college level, a lost cause, he thought at first. And yet, he couldn't help but feel proud as you quickly rose to become one of the top students in his class. One day after potionology you had forgotten your textbook behind, and being the great teacher that Divus Crewel is, he ought to give back to you. After looking around for a bit, then spotting in a hallway talking with your friends, he happens to overhear about your secret thoughts on him…

Based on this ask and poll.

Warnings: Mature Content, Swearing/Explicit Language, Spanking(of ass, thigh, and pussy, by hand and pointer), Choking(on dick lol), degrading names, pet play ig?(just names like pup, dog and mutt but not anything else in that area). READER IS A COLLEGE FRESHMAN AS NCR IS ONE IN THIS FIC SO THEY ARE AT LEAST 18, CREWEL IS CANONICALLY 32 SO KEEP THAT IN MIND BEFORE ENGAGING.

Note: This is sort of a remake of ‘Personal Training’ but instead of Professor Vargas, it’s our dear sadistic Divus Crewel. Like a different Au, so the encounter between reader and professor Vargas didn’t happen here. Also why are all the proffesror mean you may ask, well the answer is quite simple… I like to bullied by authority figures/people in charge and those fics self indulgence 🤪✌️. Also for future request, if not precise what type of behaviour you want for the love interest, i will default to writing mean!dom!character or pervy!dom!character cuz that’s i like lol.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since starting classes at NCR Wonderland, you felt off about begin your academic journey as a college Freshman. Sure you were the right age for it, but wasn’t it a bit to much of an ask to start with college courses, especially with most of the mediums being different from your world? But at last you had no choice but sucking it up, working harder than any other student in your year to keep up. Though you did enjoy some of the classes, just because they had familiar concept. Magic analysis was like any other analysis class you had taken before the topic was just different, you also had music which was the same as back home, and of course there was Potionology…

That class was your beacon of hope each week. You genuinely enjoyed it, not only because it resembled chemistry, making the 'laboratory process' easier to grasp, but it was also the only class where you could actually use magic! The mixtures you created could do things you could only dream of in your world. Moreover, making such complex and potent elixirs made you feel useful. You felt competent with this world's materials because of it, even if Crowley didn't find a way for you to return home, you possibly could get around. Of course, there was another tiny reason why you loved the class so much, actually it was a pretty significant one. Even in your own thoughts, you couldn't deny that you were practically drooling at your professor each time you entered his classroom.

But how could you resist? That man was incredibly hot, smoking even. And his voice, god! It was undeniably sexy. Plus, the way he addressed you was so appealing: Generally, he would call you a 'pup', 'good girl' or 'good dog' when you did something right or answered a question correctly. He'd say 'bad dog' or 'bad girl' if you made a mistake.

He would also refer to himself as your trainer, at some point asking of you and Grim to address him as "O Great Crewel" or "Master/Master Crewel" instead of "Professor Crewel", as a form of discipline.

And fuck was that hot, honestly that was the primary reason you worked so diligently in his class. Hearing his praise and being able to call him "Master" only served to fuel your fantasies.

You wondered how he could discipline you in a more 'physical' way. Would he use his pointer or his hands on your thighs and ass when spanking you? Would he continue to use the usual nicknames, or would he resort to degrading names like 'slut', 'whore', ‘needy bitch in heady’ or perhaps 'greedy pup'? The curiosity from it was driving you mad, to the point where you even considered pulling your panties to the side and touch yourself at the sound of his voice, as taught class unbeknownst to it all.

Naturally, you wouldn't actually do it. After all, even if your noises didn't give you away, the smell certainly would. (You were certain the beastman in your class would detect something like that.) However, there was a certain allure in to the scenario.

Perhaps a classmate would inform your professor, leading to a public reprimand. You picture your professor criticizing your behavior while you stand in an embarrassing position for all to see. Your skirt would lifted and he would be abusing your behind, probably edge you during the spend of the whole lesson. Then right before the bell rang, he would touch your sweet spot one last time, and right around his fingers you would squir-

Oh, right, the bell. Class had just ended. You snapped back to reality and turn to your friends. From their expressions, it's clear they've been trying to get your attention for a while.

Hastily gathering your things, stuff them into your backpack, and follow your friends out of the classroom. Unbeknownst to you, the potionology textbook you need for tonight's homework is left behind on your desk.

You soon reach the hallway where you and your friends usually sat at a break. It's lunchtime, and as per your routine, you start your daily rant about your professor to Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek. Grim is also there, but as always, he is so focused on his food that he isn't paying attention.

Meanwhile, Divus was getting ready to head to the teachers' lounge to enjoy his lunch when he noticed the Potionology textbook on your desk.

Even if he didn't know where you sat during class time, he could tell that it belonged to you by the fact that it had small pawprint stickers surrounding your name on the book’s bridge. The memory of you telling him that customizing the book that way was the best resurfaced. After all you were a "good pup, so why not add the paw prints to match the statement.”, you had told him when he inquired about the decorations.

That comment made him chuckle, which brought a bright grin to your face. While it's true that he would refer to his students by such names, at no point in his career did a student use the term to address themselves. To be honest, he finds it cute that you adore the name that most of your peers detested. You simply smile and giggle anytime he uses it to compliment you, and you pout like a real puppy when he corrects you. ‘Truly adorable.’

He actually liked you. Regardless of how your entourage behaved, you were an excellent student who did not cause any problems. You paid attention in class and worked really hard to achieve the highest grades not only in his class but in others, but it appeared to him that you were more interested in the course that he taught compared to the rest. In non-magical courses, you received an average of 70-80, and your sciences marks were in the 90s, slightly higher grades.

Divus also liked how, despite the restricted male uniform, you had altered the uniform to be more fashionable with the consent of the headmaster. Instead of the dull pants that came with it, you wore a skirt that was little longer than mid-thigh but did not reach the knee. It was elegantly embroidered with a swirly thorn pattern, and you wore stockings to match it. A work of art in the man's eyes, which made you even more favourable to him; he adored when someone had a true sense of fashion.

Despite your puppy-like demeanour when he spoke to you, there was a gleam in your eyes, a lustful one at that. You looked at him as if you wanted him to bend you over your desk that very instant, practically eye fucking him throughout the lecture. You may not realize that he noticed, but as a desirable man, he was highly aware of such things. He observed as you unconsciously rub your thighs together, while he chewed you up for a small error; he 'was expecting better from such a bright girl like yourself, this was extremely disappointing'.

Even though he kept it to himself, attempting to maintain professionalism, him still being your teacher and all. Maybe you weren't as horny as he believed, just slightly flustered by the charming way he addressed you, especially coming from a handsome man like himself. However, no matter how sweet you were, you couldn't fulfill his desires. He craved someone he could dominate and control, someone who to basically bully into submission. You were far too innocent and gentle for that. He assumed that if you did have any sexual thoughts about him, your fantasies would be quite vanilla in nature.

‘And oh, boy, was he wrong!’ That was his thoughts when he overheard the conversation between you and your friends, having finally reach the hallway you usually frequented, your potionology textbook book in hand.

A bit earlier,

You and your friends had started eating and you were babbling;

“Okay, lisent, like hear me out-“ you begin,

“I am not hearing, YOU out. You’ve already said enough.” Sebek quickly retorts.

“Valid point, but, but think about it. Hot mean teacher disciplines you with a spanking while degrading you.” You suggest,

“NO!” Sebek tells you horrified.

"Come on, Sebek, don't be so ip tight. I may not be into that kinda of stuff, but Y/N has a point. I don't get the appeal, but Professor Crewel does fit her type.” Ace tells the distress crocodile.

“But he's a teacher, OUR teacher. I don't understand how people can have crushes on their teachers, but openly lusting for them should be prohibited! Also, not discussed like any other normal subject!” Sebek tells the card soldier.

“I agree with Sebek, you should keep such intimate thoughts to yourself.” Jack adds on,

“Ya say that but chur tail be waggin' like an exited puppy. It’s obvious ya like hearin' bout the naughty stuff from missy over there!” Epel comments.

“That’s not-“ Jack begins, but cuts himself off, like Epel said his tail was wagging crazy so he couldn’t deny anything. So “whatever!” was all he said, followed by a huff and a frustrated growl.

"Look, I'm not saying people should go out of their way to fuck their teachers; it's just that the man who potentially would fulfills all of my desires and fantasies happens to be my teacher. And, honestly, he must be aware that his nicknames and actions would turn some students.” You say to the group,

“What? How’s that?” Deuce questions.

“Come on, it's not like you can't go to NCR if you're into things like pet play or bdsm. He must have known that each year would have some students who fit that description. Don't tell me you thought he was completely clueless towards that?” You explain,

“Well when you put it like that, I guess Professor Crewel probably knows about it.” Deuce sorta agrees.

“He’s probably just ignoring it, pushing it to the back of his mind and pretending that it’s not real.” Ace comments,

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. But at the end of day, the fact that he’s aware doesn’t change much, I still won’t get him to bend me over his desk” you say with a dramatic sigh, making both Epel and Ace laugh.

“Honestly even if there was some stellar chance that he could be into me, he’s probably in a relationship already. If he isn't married, he is most likely casually dating someone.” You add on.

“Yeah, too bad for ya!” Epel says with a snicker.

Unknown to you and your friend group, the same professor you were discussing was right around the corner, listening in on you thirsting over him.

And truthfully this was a shock to him. Sure he might have found you attractive, but also he had convinced himself that you couldn’t fulfill his desires. Now turns out both of your fantasies aligned, and he was going to make good use of that knowledge.

Now heading towards your group the clacking sounds of Divus’s heels made all of you turn around. Some of their expression where terror, some confusion but Ace and Epel looked like they were holding in a laugh.

Clearing his voice, “Miss.L/n, just the person I was looking for. You had forgotten your potionology textbook in my class, so I went looking for youu in to hand it back, you wouldn’t want to miss tonight’s homework, now would you?” He told, as passed you the book.

“Oh, um, thanks professor Crewel!” You exclaimed a bit distraught, ‘did he hear what I’ve been saying or what?’

“Try again. You know that’s not the appropriate way to address me, now is it.” He states making you rethink your words,

“Right, sorry, Master Crewel...” You spoke out.

“That’s much better. Now come along pup.” He said as he turn around and started walking,

“What- why?” you ask confused. And he turns his head to gaze at you.

“Well isn’t it obvious, you and I got much to discuss. Do not question me anymore today, or any day for that matter. Stand up and follow me right now, otherwise you will suffer greater repercussions than I originally planned to make you endure.”

“Oh, okay.” You squeak out and grab your belongs, now trailing right behind your dear professor Crewel, ‘oh, right, O Great Crewel.’

You returned to your classroom, Divus locked the doors behind you. He had been sitting at his laptop for the past 10 minutes. You were sitting on a chair, on the opposite side of your desk.

"I have magi-mailed your other professors, they have cleared your itinerary for the afternoon. Lucky for us, today was the one I had spares in the afternoon as well." He informs you.

"But if this talk was going to take a while, I could have just come back after class," you say.

"No, I must have a chat with you right this instant.” Divus replies.

You only nod, turning to gaze out of the window to ease your nerves. Of course he noticed, so he turned his lamp desk on, it was bright, then magically closed all the blinds. He moved from his seat to your side of the desk, resting on it as he looked down at you.

“Now, let’s start this talk. Do you know why I brought you here?” He inquires.

“I’m sorry sir I don’t know.” Honestly you weren’t sure maybe he overheard you or maybe this was about something else.

“Not don’t play coy pup.” He told you sternly,

“Perhaps my grades sir…” you croak out, barely above a whisper.

“I guess you decide to persevere in your bad dog act, stand up.” He tells you, sounding exasperated.

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself mutt!”

Without a word you did as you were, the suddenly felt a had push on your back, not protesting anymore you just expect your fate as you were now folded upon the wooden desk.

“Looks like your not completely hopeless, but that one time show of obedience won’t exempt you from your punishment.” He said, you felt a somewhat thin metallic object glide up your right leg, you guessed it was his pointer. “Spread” was all you heard before the words were followed by a swift whip of the pointer.

You were dazed by the feeling, not completely registering the given order. This seem to irritate Divus, as another strike came down, but this time you react right on impact, now having your legs nicely spread out. ‘Your head was slightly dizzy, was this going the way you thought it was?’

But before you could linger on that thought, you felt Divus's hands remove your panties from your hips, letting them drop to your ankles. Your ass and cunt were now exposed to him. You heard a little shuffling, then his soft breath was in your ear. "Listen, since I'm not going to say it twice. I overheard you being a little slut, talking to your friends about how much you want me to hurt you. So that's exactly what I'm going to do, I'm going to discipline you to never forget how to address me, to never talk so lewdly in front of another man, and to make you incapable of living a functional life without me in it. Now, if you understand, say, ‘Yes, sir.’”

“Yes!..sir—!”

"Good. Now I'm going to spank you, and you must count after each hit and thank me for it, you may only address me as Sir or Master, if anything other than what I've instructed comes out of your mouth or you mess up the count, we'll start over and add 10 more strikes for you to go over. Also, you aren’t to touch me unless instructed otherwise.”

By the time he reached strike 29, your bottom was a of deeper color than your regular skin tone, covered in marks and bruises. Your thighs were quivering from the constant impact of his hand on your sensitive areas. "Twenty-eight... Thank you, sir..." You panted heavily, biting down on your lower lip to suppress any further sounds of discomfort.

Crewel stopped suddenly, taking a moment to admire his work. He ran his fingers gently over your bruised ass cheeks, leaving trails of coolness where they brushed against your heated skin. "That’s wrong," he spoke out, a spank from his hand came down your ass this time. "You already said 28, this means we have to start over. But this time, we’re going up to 40."

You whimpered softly, your eyes widening in terror as you realized what this meant for your already sore ass. "N-No! Please, I apologize, sir! I'll count better!" Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Crewel resumed his merciless assault on your sensitive flesh. Each strike landed harder than before, leaving deep marks that would surely become bruises soon.

"One... Two... Three... Four..." Eventually, you reached number 40. The last blow sent waves of agony coursing through your entire body, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears trickled down your cheeks, streaming down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. "Thank you, sir..." You managed to choke out between heavy breaths.

After giving you a moment to recover, Crewel noticed the wetness between your legs and smirked cruelly. "You enjoyed that didn't you, filthy slut?" he growled, his voice lower than usual, almost seductive.

Grabbing hold of your waist and lifting you slightly before slapping your sensitive folds forcefully. The sudden contact caused a sharp gasp to escape your lips, followed by a moan of mixed pain and pleasure.

"What did you just say, mutt?" he demanded, his voice dripping with malice. "No, don't answer," he continued before continuing his barrage on your sensitive areas, alternating between your lips and clit, ensuring that you wouldn't forget this lesson anytime soon.

After several minutes of relentless punishment, he finally stop the smacking of your privates. Following it by cupping your dripping folds in his hand, rubbing them roughly, spreading your juices over your sensitive flesh.

Than bringing his fingers in view for you to see, sticky liquids all over them."You see how much you enjoy this, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Your body had shook after every blow, your moans had turned into sobs as you struggled to maintain composure. Through tears and gasps for air, you managed to choke out between breaths, "Y-Yes, sir... I love it!" your tone was desperate, pleading for more even though your body ached in pain. You couldn't deny the intense pleasure mixed with the agony.

“That’s it," he praised, his voice dripping with false approval. Reaching between your spread legs once more, he inserted one finger into your tight entrance, stretching you further than you could with your own. Despite the pain, a soft moan escaped your lips involuntarily.

"Now, beg me to cum, you needy bitch in heat," he commanded gruffly, his tone harsh yet somehow erotic. Your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions; part of you begged for release, while another part of you wanted to defy him and deny him what he sought.

You forced yourself to focus on the burning sensation of his finger probing deeper into your sensitive core, trying hard not to move or squirm too Your your body ached everywhere from the brutal punishment you had endured thus far. "P-Please... sir... I need you to..." your voice trailed off as he thrust another finger inside you, stretching your even further.

"More, please!" you managed to croak out between gasps for air. Your hips involuntarily bucked against him, seeking more contact, more stimulation. Despite the pain, the combination of humiliation and arousal was becoming too much for you to handle.

Crewel chuckled darkly, enjoying the sight of you squirming and begging for more. Slowly, he began to move his fingers in and out of your tight entrance, teasing your sensitive spots with precise strokes. "Good," he praised again, his voice laced with malice. "Now, beg me for your orgasm properly."

Ultimately, survival instinct kicked in, and you forced out a broken plea, "Please, sir... I need to cum... Please..." your voice cracked on the last word, betraying both your desperation and submission.

His pace picked up slightly, thrusting faster and harder into your tight passageway. Your moans turned into high-pitched cries of pleasure as you neared the edge of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he stopped abruptly, leaving you hanging on the brink of orgasm.

"Not yet, don’t tell me you thought you would get what you want that easily, did you?" he growled, his voice cold and commanding. "You haven't earned it yet." With a final taunt, he pulled out both fingers, leaving your dripping. "Clean yourself up, mutt," he ordered harshly, before turning away from your exposed body.

You were a mess, your body trembling in pre-orgasmic bliss and frustration. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged him through sobs, "P-Please, sir... I'll do anything... Just let me cum!"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Divus turned back to you, grabbing you by your hair and making you drop to your knees in front of him. Reaching down, he unfastened his pants and slid them down, revealing his massive cock, hard and throbbing with desire through his boxer. It flapped against his stomach as pulled his garment down, it was veined and pulsing with need. "Much better," he said coldly. "Now, show me how much you want it."

Swallowing thickly, you raised your head and tentatively wrapped your lips around the tip of his member, taking as much of it into your mouth as you could without gagging. Your tongue flicked out, tracing the head of his cock, seeking more sensation. You began to suck greedily, your throat stretching around his thickness.

Divus groaned, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he began to thrust his hips forward, forcing more of his cock into your willing mouth. Your gagging and choking sounds only fueled his desire further. "That's a good mutt," he praised between heavy breaths. "You take my cock so well, you filthy dog."

You struggled to breathe as he continued his brutal assault on your throat, your eyes watering from the burn in your nose and throat. Despite the pain, you relish the feeling of being completely owned by him, your body becoming nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. You moaned around his cock, hardly able to form coherent words between the constant thrusts.

As he continued to pound into your throat, your body shook with each powerful thrust. your hands reached up, grasping at his thighs for support as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. The combination of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, causing your mind to spiral into a hazy fog of desire.

Eventually, Divus slowed down, pulling out just enough for you to catch a brief moment of air before plunging back in deeper than before. "Are you ready for your reward, whore?" he growled, his voice low and menacing yet laced with promise.

Without waiting for a response, he unloaded his seed into your waiting mouth, filling it to the brim with hot, sticky semen. You gagged violently, struggling to swallow every drop, your eyes watering from the intensity of the sensation.

He held your head in place until his orgasm subsided, then pulled out, leaving your filled with his essence.

Your vision spun as you coughed and gagged, your body still trembling from the intense asphyxiation. Slowly, you felt your body being raised, finding yourself laying on Divus's desk, your legs folded and spread wide open, exposing your wet and swollen folds to his hungry mouth. Before you good connect 1 and 2 together, he was already between your legs, his tongue darting out to trace along your dripping entrance.

"Oh sevens..." you whimpered, arching your hips upwards, begging for more contact. Pulling away slightly, he teased your sensitive flesh with light touches before finally plunging his tongue deep inside your core, sucking and lapping at your juices voraciously. His fingers found your clit, pinching and rubbing it harshly, eliciting another moan of pleasure mixed with pain.

Your body trembled on the verge of orgasm once more, as he continued to torture your sensitive spots. Your nails scratched at the desk to avoid grabbing his head, you were sure you would get reprimanded for it, the wood was left with white lines shaky lines on it. "P-Please, sir... I need you to—!" you managed to choke out between gasps for air before you was cut off by a powerful moan.

Divus pulled away from your dripping folds, his face covered in your juices. "Mhm is that so," he growled, his voice dark and menacing. "Sadly for you, I don’t feel like letting you climax quite yet, you greedy pup." He teased.

Your body shook with frustration and need, your entire being aching for release. "P-Please... sir..." you begged pathetically, your voice barely more than a whimper. Hips bucking upwards, seeking more contact, more stimulation.

For what felt like a millennium, he continued to tease your sensitive spots, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy only to pull away just when you thought you could bear no more. Sweat trickled down your back, staining the cool surface of his desk beneath you.

Finally, feeling that it was enough, Divus thrust two fingers back inside your dripping entrance, simultaneously rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb. “Now cum.”

The combination of sensations was too much for you to handle, and you cried out in pure bliss as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over your. Your pussy contracted tightly around his fingers, cumming so hard to be able to see stars.

Smiling down at you, he gave your cunt a small peck. Crewel smirked cruelly yet something sweet behind his eyes. "Seems like you’re beginning to learn your place well, pup," he said before moving closer again, his lips brushing against yours roughly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, claiming ownership over your mouth once more, as well as your mind. He tongues wrestled violently, your saliva mixing together in a sickening dance, tasting each other on the other’s tongue.

After breaking the kiss, he stood up straight, looking down at you battered form with satisfaction. "Now, go home and get yourself cleaned up. We're finished for today." With that command, he help her up and walk her out of the school building, trying to avoid anything prying eyes. At her professor was kind enough to accompany her out, but she was on her when it came to walking home.

“See you on Saturday in my classroom, Miss. Y/n” was all he said as he turned and left for school once more. Leaving you alone to recover from the brutal punishment she had endured.

You only replied by a weak “See you sir”, but only when arrive at your door front did it click ‘Wait we don’t have class on the weekends, does that mean—‘

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

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Reblogs help!!! (Request Are Open)

[dianesdiaries]

what you are| Homelander x Y/n

-After getting ahold of Homeland's animalistic nature, Vought's international decides to hire a psychiatrist to examine his behaviours. But he can see right through yours

NOTE: no smut! this short fic contains convo w/tension, suspense/ js a fun piece on the boys!

In the three minutes it took me to take in my situation, I could feel his gaze getting warmer. The aroma filled with the silence of a faint fan, the distilled white walls that caved into his head. My eyes slowly met with his, intoned into the rage that conceived into madness.

"Surprise visit?", the supe seemed unamused with my presence, the silent creaking of his chair rocking back and forth. We both knew damn well those cuffs could come off any second. We both knew Vought could do nothing if he killed me. I think it excited him. I sat down cautiously, leaving a gradual space between his palmed hands and my worksheets. "You seem- out of it lately. More or so then often. I'm here to help you through these times but you need to cooperate with me", my words held stern through my fear. The rapid pumping of my heart thumped with every crack of a smile he made. "Fix.. You want to fix me? that's ironic", the man scoffed and leaned back into his chair. his eyes met mine once again, demanding an answer to the quiet that held curiosity. "You seriously think you can walk in here and try to fucking fool me? What a joke. They want to hold me in here like some sort of mutt- while you have more to be scared of then you think". The room fell still again. I desperately looked for somewhere to avert my gaze, but fell back to base one. But I held my ground. As long as he left me time to stall, I could do my work. And leave. I worked mercilessly at my sheet, writing down whatever could come to mind to seem productive.

"Wasting my fucking time with this..."

I darted up to check my client, watching him carelessly stare into space. The plan was working. The more he could keep thinking, the more I could write down. I never admitted it, but being a super in silence had more benefits than you think-

"I know what you are".

My vision blurred in circles. My heart was alive in my stomach. "Excuse me?..-"

"Let's be honest, okay?", his words were empty, his hair hung low below his eyes as I could feel my body overheating. "You were given the gift, of being a better being. Of being superior to a world of sheep. And you're fucking ashamed. Like a waste of good product". I slowly stepped back from my chair, collecting my sheets that scattered onto the ground in the whip of a chain. The cuffs dangled, and scraped slowly to the rhythm of its fall. The floor swarmed my gaze, small trickles of tears bubbling in my eyes. Torn cloth met the warmth of my body, his presence towered over me. At this point, his thoughts were unreadable. I couldn't possibly make out how he felt in this moment but vast- nothingness. His breath was cold, the brace of his hand on my shoulder gripping. "Look at me. I said, look at me when I'm talking to you". I could feel my breath tremble as I raised my head to meet his gaze, the grin he had wiped off slowly. Homelander laughed at his irony, the madness breaking with every breath. "You come in here, and you tell me I have fucking problems? You can read people's minds and still choose a minimum wage fucking job!", my tears looked crocodile in his presence. His fingers slowly met my chin, tilting my head upwards in a jolt. "But it happens to the best of us, right? Nothing wrong with some slack. You wanna live serving them? Or a life of serving your kind?", my head shook up and down vigorously at his statements, my words entrapped in my throat. "Then you'll do the right thing, yeah Y/N?", his eyes began to light a crimson red, a smirk drawing on his face at the sound of fear in my cries.

His hand slowly made its travel down to my throat, grasping at the grooves as my hands searched for my keycard in a survival instinct. His grip tightened at every second I wasted, his soft chuckles at the heinous act sent chills down my spine.

BEEP!

My body collapsed at the release of air, grasping onto every breath I could take. The vigorous buzzing of his eyes fell into a still blue, looking down at the fawn of a supe he was looking at. His steps marched slowly out of the room, the sound of metal the door cranking open at his sight. "Thanks for the chat. It was a cute try, at least".

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hopping around ffs, okay Soo I had a teen! Hotchner/son! Reader thought where the reader is visibly punk and is active with activism around to a point where he's not afraid to get dirty and loud to get the point across or to defend someone.

Request; I wanna know, what do you think Hotch thinks about it or responds to it? What about his team when/if they get to meet the Reader (I'd bargain that Hotch has told them about Reader and what shenanigans he's gotten into.)

And as always, please feel free to deny my request if you feel like it, don't feel pressured. Have a nice day/night and thank you in advance regardless of what you decide to do. :3

— Mutt anon

Hiya, hope this is okay! Also to clarify anon says 'hopping around ffs' because they sent a few other asks (which I'm excited to write aha)

Warnings: bullying mentions, homophobia, some (not a lot) bad language

"What happened this time?" Aaron sighed as he approached you. You kept the tissue pressed firmly under your nose. Despite the tissue covering the majority of your mouth, Aaron knows your smirking. You look a little worse for wear, a small amount of blood smeared along the lower side of your face, eye slightly red. Your hair - which was dyed a bright pink - was no longer in it's neat Mohawk, but rather a little... askew.

"Some dickheads." You give a small shrug, a glint in your eyes.

"First off, language." Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. "And what were these... individuals doing?"

"Turns out, they've been bullying a gay kid two grades below us."

"Okay, and what exactly happened today?"

"I saw them, told them to leave him alone. They told me to get fucked, shoved him, so I stuck up for him." You summarised, finishing your explanation with a shrug.

"Did you try a peaceful negotiation first?"

"Obviously." You scoffed, "I have my morals."

Aaron really couldn't argue with that. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah." Aaron sighed, "I'm assuming the principal wants to speak to me again?"

"You guessed it."

The principal wasted no time ushering the pair of you in. You didn't bother to wait for an invitation to sit down - you had been here often enough to skip the pleasantries.

"Agent Hotchner."

"Principal Williams."

"Please, take a seat." You rolled your eyes as your dad sat next to you, the principal sitting back in his desk chair. "I wanted to know what you will be doing at home, to reinforce that this type of behaviour is not acceptable."

"What do you mean?"

"What will the consequences be at home for (Y/N)?"

"I'm not going to punish him."

"He needs to understand that this type of reoccurring behaviour is not acceptable."

"That's an opinion." Your dad's voice is clipped and you have to duck your head to hide your smirk.

"Excuse me?"

"He's defending other students. Each and every time you have called me in here, telling me my son is being disruptive, when he is protecting others. Not to mention that violence is always a last resort when protecting another student - which, I believe, is your job?" Aaron phrases the last part as a question, and it takes all of your might not to laugh. "Perhaps it would be best if your time and energy went on preventing bullies, rather than punishing my son for standing up to them."

The team were going to absolutely love hearing about this.

"Now, if you excuse us, I'm going to be taking my son home." Aaron said, standing up. You followed suit, throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

"You're so cool." You mumbled as you both left the office. "Can I get my lip pierced?"

"I'm not that cool."

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

TWST As Lines I've Written/Said

Content Warning: Shitpost, suggestiveness(idk?) & swearing

Author's Note: These are either things I've said, or things that I've written down but haven't used... yet, might use them in the future, might not. Feel free to guess which is which.

Let the shenanigans begin!

Yuu, upon entering TWST

Yuu: “I’m motivated by spite and getting the fuck out of this damned place!” 

Crowley: “This damned place just so happens to be my school!” 

Yuu: “Yeah? Well, guess what Mr. Mystery Man, I fucking hate it here!” 

Crowley: “Rude.”

Typical Ace Behaviour

Yuu: “Behave, my friends are coming over.” 

Ace: “Weird. I didn’t know you were capable of having those.” 

Yuu: “You know what? You can go out and wait on the fire escape until they leave if you want to act like that.”

Capitalism Isn't Attractive

Deuce: “Do not fall for the pretty man with the fancy clothes!” 

Yuu: “Why not? He’s hot as fuck.” 

Deuce: “... He’s a capitalist.” 

Yuu: “THAT WHORE!”

Pissy Kitty

Leona: “Great, you again.” 

Yuu: “I’m thrilled to see you too, asshole.”

Floyd, just Floyd

Floyd: “Why not?” 

Yuu: “Unlike you, I don’t want to die!” 

Floyd: “Boo, you’re lame.”

Yuu Needs a Raise

Yuu: “My therapist will be thrilled to hear about this revelation.” 

Everyone: “What’s a therapist?”

Why Are You Like This?

Vil: “You are a blithering buffoon.” 

Yuu: “Takes one to know one.” 

Vil: “...Listen here you little piece of -”

Cryptid Hours

Yuu: *walks into room to find Idia sitting in the dark, facing the corner* “Did the voices win today?”

Idia: “Undecided.”

Yuu: “Okay then, let me know if that changes. Since I would like a headstart before you go all *insert demon noises* on me.”

After Any Overblot

Yuu: "I feel like a baked potato." *passes out*

The Adventures of Malleus

Malleus: “Tell me, Child of Man; do humans typically court through the acquiring and displaying of fish?”

Yuu: “Why?”

Malleus: *has been secretly using your phone for research and found himself on Tinder* “Just curious is all.”

Yuu: “... No, it’s not typical.”

Malleus: “Alright then, noted.”

Dear Professor Vargas, I regret to inform you that your attempts to woo a potential mate through your acquiring of fish may not be successful. And does the "DILF" shorts mean, "Darling, I Love Fish?" ... Asking for a friend. Sincerely, Malleus Draconia

Octopus Eyesight

Yuu: “Do you have astigmatism?”

Azul: “Do I have what?”

Yuu: “Astigmatism, like when you look at lights at night do you see lines? Since you have weird ass pupils.”

Azul: “...wait, that isn’t normal?”

Should I Be Nervous?

Yuu: “Have you ever been overcome with the lust for broccoli?”

Trey: ". . ."

Yuu: *squints, thinking* “Break glass in case of sudden lust for broccoli...”

Trey: "Should I leave?"

A Question to Ponder

Yuu: “Why do fictional men slap so hard? Like damn.”

Riddle: “Because they are not real and do not come with any of the negative consequences that often come with real men, also you can better idealize them… And anime, ‘Makes you go brrrrr,’ as you put it.”

College Life

Rollo: “I am running off 3 hours of sleep and a single croissant, do not test me.”

Baby Talk

Rook: “Ah, bonjour chatton!" *proceeds to babytalk to the cat in French*

Yuu's Type

Yuu: “I have 4 types; wet cat, malewife, girlboss, and whore." tag yourself

Crewel: "... You need to focus on your grades, not on some mutts."

What Do You Have?

Jamil: "What's that?"

Kalim: *hiding a cat that he stole from outside* "Uhhh, my love for you?"

Jamil: *annoyed* "Put it back outside, Kalim."

Kalim: *puts the cat in his face* "BUT LOOK AT THEM!! THEY BABEY!!!!"

[baby-tini]

"Hands up for abusive! Kanto Mikey part 2"

"🙋🏻‍♀️" "🙋🏻‍♀️" "🙋🏿‍♀️" "🙋🏿‍♀️" "🙋🏿‍♀️" "🙋🏾‍♀️" "🙋🏾‍♀️" "🙋🏽‍♀️" "🙋🏼‍♀️"

"🙋🏼‍♀️"

"🙋🏻‍♂️" "🙋🏼‍♂️" "🙋🏿‍♂️" "🙋🏻‍♂️" "🙋🏼‍♂️" "🙋🏿‍♂️"

everyone wants mikey ong

ong I've never agreed more.

TW- Physical abuse disguised as discipline, verbal abuse, Mikey is insane, possessive behaviour, controlling behaviour, stockholm syndrome, victim blaming

You did it again, once again you were fucking talking to other men. Smiling and laughing in their face as Mikey watched, his pupils narrowed and slit, almost cat-like as he felt his jaw tense and hands form into fists. How many times has he told you now, too stay away from other men, what did he need too do too really make it stick in that tiny little brain of yours? Did he need too beat you harder? Keep you locked away like a caged bird? Keep you in a kennel like a disobedient dog? Because that's how you were acting, like a disobedient little mutt, if he needed too keep you chained at his feet, he would've already done it. If that's what it takes for you too behave, he truly doesn't mind.

So, he really doesn't understand why you're surprised when he rips you out of your seat by your hair, and then proceeds too drag you towards an empty conference room. Pushing your body over the circular table, while pressing down on the upper part of your back, causing your chest too squish against the hard wood. The feeling is uncomfortable and painful as the table digs into your stomach, the rough action of him pushing you on to it has you the wind knocking from your lungs as you groan in pain, unable too take a mouthful of air as he shoves your face into the hard table, his chest pressed into your back. Leaning down he growls in your ear, his words harsh as he fists at you hair. Your breaths shallow as you attempt too, again, take in at least a little bit of air.

"What the fuck have I told you about talking to other men, huh? You don't fucking listen, is there only air in that empty little head of yours? There must fuckin' be 'cause you don't listen, you don't fuckin' listen, stupid fucking bitch." He angry- no, pissed at you. His chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths as he smacks the back of your hand, his hand heavy as you feel tears already starting too cling to your lashes, biting at your lip too keep in the pitiful sobs that try their best too claw at your throat, like bile rising from your stomach that you desperately try too hold back. As soon as his ears catch onto your little sniffles, he yaks your head back, almost giving you whiplash. The hand still fisted in your hair starts too shake your head like a rag-doll.

"I know you're not fucking crying, I know that's what I'm not fucking hearing, isn't that right? You're not fucking crying right, right?" He's in your face, his breath ticking your baby hairs as his face sits so close, you feel his teeth on your cheek. You vigorously shake your head 'no', the little 'no sir's' freeing themselves from your throat as you hiccup, biting the inside of your cheek as you swallow, finally able too suck in a couple breaths, albeit shaky, you could breathe much better now, your face no longer buried in the hard-wood of the table. You make the mistake of looking into his eyes, the representation of midnight onyx, so empty, soulless even. He hums out a 'thought so' as he backs away from your face, his hand still tightly tangled in your hair.

It's quick, the way he yanked down your pants and panties was so quick you didn't even notice at first, not until you felt the cool air brush against your folds. It was a quiet gasp that made it's appearance on your lips that grabbed at his attention. The hand in your hair moved towards your lower back, too hold you down against the solid table. Then a heavy slap cracking against your ass followed very shortly after that. Already leaving an unpleasant stinging sensation followed by a quickly appearing nasty red hand print- his hand print. A scream tore itself from your vocal cords as you as your body jerked itself to the side, putting all the pressure and weight on your right leg, attempting too ease the sting on your left ass cheek. He didn't let you stay that way for long though, as he used the hand that wasn't holding you down, too adjust you too stand on both of your legs, pressing your bare ass back against him, the hard cock in his pants very noticeable from your position. Proceeding too lay a couple more heavy slaps on each of your ass cheeks, your back and ass arching downwards as you cry out.

"You're really pissing me off, do you like pushing my buttons, huh? 'Cause with the way you've consistently been acting? I think you do. Now, keep still and take it before I really give you something too cry about, yeah?" You nod your in multitudes as you sniffle and let out a stuttered exhale. He huffs before moving back laying another heavy slap, this time on the back of your left thigh, the skin jiggling as he pulls his hand back. You keep your lips tightly sealed as you let out a muffled whine, your tongue digging into your cheek as you try too take a deep breath, but before you can even think about it, there's already another slap landing on your other thigh. The harsh sound of skin cracking against skin as your stomach sucks in on itself and your body is thrown forward by the force.

"Don't fuckin' move. How. Many times, do I have too fucking tell you, too. Keep. Fucking. Still. I hate repeating myself, I really really do, but you just.. keep moving, it's only gonna get worse for you, you know that right?... answer me!!!" You stutter out broken apologies, pleading with him, trying too tell him, just how sorry you are, but he doesn't listen, he never was. The session of... discipline goes on for awhile, as he continues too harshly swat at your ass. The pain has your knees buckling as you try and stay still for him, not wanting too piss him off even more then he already is. The hits, thankfully don't get too much harder and you're able too bite your lip through the pain. The swatting does fortunately come to an end soon after that, not soon enough but thankfully a lot quicker then you first thought it would. By the end of it, your eyes are leaking tears and your lip is bleeding with how hard you were biting down on it. He pulls your panties back up, admiring the bruises on your ass, the ones he left before he pulls your pants back up before pulling your head back so he can stare you down.

"Maybe I should make a habit out of spanking your ass, huh baby? Pull you into this room and bend you over this table as I bruise your pretty little ass again and again... maybe then you'll listen." He mockingly tilts his head in question with a nod of understanding and repeated, 'yes sir's', because you know Manjiro Sano doesn't make empty threats or promises, never has, never will. With a hum of, 'good girl,' he leads you out of the conference room. Burying your face into his chest, he runs his hands through your hair as he kisses the top of your head. Opening the door to your shared bedroom, he lays you down in the bed, on your stomach. The soft satin feeling refreshing against your skin as you nuzzle into the fresh-smelling sheets. He hums as he squats down, his hand running through your hair before wiping at your sticky cheeks. Humming softly before standing up, he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Please listen to me baby, I hate seeing you cry... it hurts me more then it hurts you angel. I love when you're a good girl for me, you're so sweet and affectionate like that... and I miss my sweet girl, you know I'd never do anything like this if I didn't love you, right?" You nod, your eyes slowly closing as your cheek rubs against the soft pillow, he smiles, nodding at you. With the whisper of a, "Goodnight princess," he's out the door before your eyes close, allowing you too slip away into a peaceful dreamworld, one with Mikey, always with Mikey, he always treats you so well, always takes the best care of you. You know he only does what he knows is best for you, don't you?

[lilynotdilly]

Swagger

I haven't seen anyone strutting round Manc like this for ages, then I saw one- parka, swinging arms, feet turned out… I figured pre army Ghost was probably a swagger boy…

"Smile love" Simon tells Johnny as he poses with the statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in St Peters Square. Johnny hops onto her chair beside her, slings his arm over her shoulder, and leans in to snog the lady for the camera.

"Jesus wept, you fuckin’ mutt! Are you trying to set feminism back half a century? Mrs Pankhurst was the leading figure in womens suffrage, and certainly deserves better than being pawed by a grubby mitted Glaswegian like you!"

"Sorry Mrs P"

Johnny climbs down, a little shamefaced, and poses like a normal person for a holiday snap. "Where to next, babe?" He asks as he slips his hand into Simons. They start wandering towards Oxford Street. 

"Almost everything happened on this road Johnny" Simon starts pontificating. 

"Workers rights, Pankhurst, Rutherford's first nuclear reaction, Turing's computers. Even Noel Gallagher got his first guitar on this street."

Johnny rolls his eyes. "I thought this trip was gonna be more about you, Simon. Not you tryin’ out for the Manchester Tourist Board…”

“...Had my first blowjob at Jilly's Rock World...” Simon points down to his left. “Got me first tattoo, bit further down…”

"Tha's more like it!" Johnny grins. "Any more filthy Riley history you wish to share?"

"...Saw my first porno down there. Dad snuck us into t'mucky picture house." A sly smirk crosses Simons face, as a memory of seventies porn and salt and vinegar crisps flashed by.

"Fuck-ola! It really does all happen on this street!" Laughs Johnny. "I think I'm gonna need a sit down if it's gonna continue in such an ungodly manner!"  He wafts himself like Victorian woman having a fit of the vapours.

Simon pulls Johnny's hand and leads him across the road, and down Lower Moseley Street. "You're in luck then babe. I thought we'd go to the Britons for a drink. It's the pub I went to for some Dutch courage before I enlisted. It's got over 300 different whiskeys! I thought it'd be right up your street!"

As they walk past the Bridgewater Hall, it's clear Simon is in his element. His gait has changed, it's looser, somehow baggy with a pronounced bounce in his step. By the time they can see the Britons Protection, his shoulders are rolling, his arms are swinging and he's walking crotch first!

Johnny drops his hand, and observes this strange phenomenon that's taken over his boyfriend. "You OK babe?" He asks.

"Yeah, course" 

"Are your trews riding up?" 

"Wha'?"

"Your undercrackers giving you trouble?"

"The fuck you on about Johnny?"

Johnny cocks his head, like a golden retriever, as if he's trying to make sense of Simon's strange behaviour. "It's just that you're walking like someone is dragging you by your dick!"

You can take the lad out of Manchester, but you can't take the Manc swagger out of the lad!

Animation- Mancunian by Nat Wood

[softfem-dom]

just thinking about having to break a fight between the dog!hybrid outsiders and cat!hybrid bob.

It was late at night, the moon shining up in the sky. It was cold inside the house, but a hoodie or a sweater would keep the chill away from your boys' bodies. You were in the kitchen with Darry, putting out the groceries you had bought earlier and left forgotten inside the bags on the table. The big German Sephered was helping you stock the —four different types of— cereals boxes on the cabinets while you were simply hiding the just bought cans of beer behind the vedgetables inside the fridge so Bob or Dallas wouldn't take them.

It was calm, Two-Bit and Soda were watching the mickey mouse program on the TV. Ponyboy and Johnny were in your bedroom, just reading your books —and going through your drawers but what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you—. Darry was with you, Bob was sleeping like the lazy bitch he was and Dallas and Steve were arm wrestling on the coffee table.

Or so you thought.

While you were putting the bananas inside the fridge, Soda came in with that nervous twitchy smile of his that always signaled something was going or about to go wrong.

"Soda" Darry warned, slowly turning to look at his brother with a quirked eyebrow.

Soda just gulped nervously, almost comically adjusting the collar of his shirt as he mumbled something way too low and fast for you to hear. "what?" you asked, confusion on your features as you slowly closed the door of the fridge. Sensing you were about to have to intervene in something.

"Dallas and Steve are barking at Bob about the time when he almost drowned him on the fountain" the Golden Retriever all-but blurted out. Words and 's' slurred into one another.

"shit"

You were quickly walking over to the living room, opening the door with a rushed haste to your movements. You knew that Dallas was a damn Canary Mastiff, he was both a stray and a hunting dog. A hound dog. And he had the fangs and fists to prove it. You couldn't risk Dallas getting violent on Bob and potentially sending the —not so—poor Ragdoll cat to the hospital.

,,

You walked into both Dallas and Steve snarling at Bob, and the smug shit wasn't doing much to put the situation on his favour. Dallas had Bob pinned to the floor, his hands balled into fists over the cat's shoulders. Baring his teeth at him, while Steve was next to Dallas with his arms crossed.

"you know what dogs are?" Bob spat, a shit eating grin on his face. The little bitch was way too over confident on this.

Dallas growled, Steve's right eye twiching, while Bob laid on the ground with that smirk of his. —the one you sometimes got the urge to slap off of his face—.

"dirty mutts with behavioural issues"

You saw Dallas raising a fist, one that was going to end directly on Bob's face and probably break his nose, but you were faster. In the time the three of them were glaring at each other you had strided over, and had managed to get a grip under Bob's arms fast enough to pull him up from the ground and away from Dallas' fist —that ended up hitting the floor—.

"Doll—! what the fuck?" Dallas hissed, shaking his fist with a slight wince. Both angry and annoyed at you for letting his fist hit the floor.

"stop it, no cussing" you scolded with a frown at both Dallas and Steve, who was rolling his eyes at you, as you readjusted Bob in your arms.

The cat happyly, and smugly, curled up into your arms. His tail curled around your leg, wrapping around the skin of your thigh, as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "suck my dick" the cat smugly flashed a shit eating grin at both dogs. But you were quick to tug on his ear with a frown.

"that goes for you too, mr. I run my mouth way more than necessary" you scolded again, this time to the cat in your arms, who only huffed and rolled his eyes at Dallas' "hah! fuck you"

"you're both grounded."

"what!?!? but doll—!" "the fuck? I am the victim in this situation!"