#grabbing him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten

[cuntyji]

Heyo!!

Loved all the writing so far! Had this random idea. Like Gojo and the puppy but imagine one of the jjk men that reader chased down their new kitten that ended up cozying up to said man of choice.

Again just my random mind LOL.

You got me as a supporter of your works.

BONGO'S GUIDE TO LOVE ౨ৎ VARIOUS JJK X (GN!) READER

summary: naming your cat bongo seemed fun at first—until he started treating every man in your orbit like his personal enemy. from perching smugly on the shoulder of your tattoo artist mid-ink session to single-handedly (or single-pawedly?) trashing your neighbor's bakery, bongo is on a one-feline mission to ruin your life. or maybe, just maybe, he’s actually trying to fix it? because amidst the chaos and claw marks, there might be a paw-sible chance he’s onto something you’re not.

content warnings: gender neutral reader (no use of y/n, specific pronouns or gender mentioned). 100% sfw and crack, unestablished relationship, meet-cute. bongo cat's breed is not mentioned, only descriptor is that he is chonky. drabbles of various characters, including: stranger! sukuna, tat artist! choso, bakery owner! nanami, moving helper! toji, actor! gojo. — ( full length cat dad! geto fic here )

— RYOMEN SUKUNA  ₍^. .^₎

you watched in absolute horror as bongo, your self-declared king of bad decisions, flung himself at the most terrifying human in the park. his fur fluffed up like some sort of possessed cotton ball as he darted straight for the man’s massive combat boots. the man—ryomen sukuna, as you'd later learn—looked like he moonlighted as a death metal frontman when he wasn't out intimidating random park-goers. tattoos spilled down his neck, across his face, and from what you could see, probably over most of his terrifyingly ripped body.

“bongo, no!” you shouted, but the little menace had already committed.

sukuna's brow furrowed as he crouched, grabbing bongo by the scruff of his neck like some kind of annoyed parent dealing with a particularly unruly toddler. bongo dangled mid-air, his expression entirely unbothered, his tail swishing lazily as if to say, this is fine. you froze, half expecting sukuna to punt bongo into the stratosphere. but instead, sukuna tilted his head. 

“the hell is this?”

“oh my god, please don’t kill my cat!” you blurted, sprinting towards him with all the dignity of a car alarm. sukuna glanced at you, his crimson eyes narrowing. “why the fuck would i kill your cat?”

“i—uh,” you stammered, gesturing wildly at his tattoos like they were some sort of official cat murder license.

bongo, clearly bored of dangling, chose this exact moment to lick sukuna’s face. one looooong, obnoxious lick, from his chin to his cheekbone, leaving a trail of cat slobber behind.

you winced. “oh no—”

but sukuna just blinked. then let out a low chuckle that sounded like a chainsaw revving. “bold little shit, huh?” bongo purred louder, smushing his entire face into sukuna’s jaw like they were old pals. sukuna, to your utter disbelief, reached up with his free hand and gave your traitorous cat a solid scratch behind the ears.

“what’s his name?” sukuna asked, his tone entirely too casual for someone covered in dark tattoos and holding a cat like a teddy bear.

“…bongo,” you muttered, now questioning every life choice that had led to this moment. he smirked, finally lowering bongo to the ground, though your little idiot immediately flopped onto sukuna’s boot like it was a throne. “bongo, huh? fitting. looks like a troublemaker.”

you stared. “yeah, well, he usually doesn’t go around licking strangers.”

“good taste,” sukuna said, smirking wider. “smart cat.”

smart? your cat had the brain cells of a soggy sponge and the survival instincts of a lemming.

“right, well,” you said, attempting to scoop bongo off sukuna’s foot, but the cat clung like velcro. “sorry for… all this. he doesn’t usually—”

“don’t worry about it,” sukuna interrupted, crouching again and giving bongo another scratch that sent your little demon into a full-body wiggle. “might be the best thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“…seriously?”

“yeah.” sukuna’s grin turned sharp, teasing. “most people just run the other way.”

you raised an eyebrow. “wonder why.”

he laughed, low and deep, then stood, towering over you in the most obnoxious way possible. “guess bongo knows a good guy when he sees one.” bongo chose this moment to leap back into sukuna’s arms like some kind of feline rom-com lead, rubbing his cheek against sukuna’s chest. “traitor,” you muttered under your breath.

“looks like he’s mine now,” sukuna teased, shooting you a grin that made you feel uncomfortably warm. “not a chance,” you shot back, but your tone lacked conviction.

ryomen sukuna: terrifying, tattooed, and apparently now your cat’s best friend. god help you both.

— CHOSO KAMO  ₍^. .^₎

it was a bad idea, you knew that from the start. but bongo’s separation anxiety had you by the throat, so there he was, your chunky feline menace, perched on a folding chair like a judgmental little gargoyle as you prepared for your tattoo session. everything was fine until choso kamo walked in.

your tattoo artist was the living embodiment of a rain-a-sauce—uh, renaissance painting. his long black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his dark eyes framed by perfectly smudged eyeliner that made him look both mysterious and mildly intimidating. his loose black tee hung just right, accentuating broad shoulders and strong arms that you were definitely not admiring. and then bongo decided to ruin your life.

the cat launched himself like a furry cannonball straight onto choso’s shoulder. not his lap, not a nearby table—his actual shoulder.

“bongo, no!” you hissed, half-rising from the tattoo chair. but choso, calm as a goddamn monk, didn’t even flinch. instead, he turned his head slightly to glance at the literal furball now draped across him. “he’s fine,” choso said, his voice low and smooth, as if this was a completely normal occurrence. “guess he likes me.”

you gawked as bongo, the little traitor, made himself comfortable, kneading choso’s shoulder like it was a deluxe memory foam pillow. “i… i can get him off—”

“don’t worry about it,” choso interrupted, grabbing his tattoo gun with one hand while his other casually scratched behind bongo’s ears. you stared. he was petting your cat. while holding a needle. meant for your skin. “uh, are you sure that’s… safe?” you asked, your voice pitching higher as choso began inking the outline on your arm.

“he’s not bothering me,” choso replied simply, his focus entirely on his work. bothering you? you were the one about to be permanently marked while your fat, smug cat played parrot. bongo purred like a tiny chainsaw, rubbing his cheek against choso’s jaw. “great,” you muttered, clenching your teeth as the needle buzzed against your skin.

as if sensing your tension, bongo stretched out one paw and lightly bopped your cheek. “oh my god, bongo, stoopp!” you whined, glaring at him. choso chuckled softly, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “looks like he’s trying to comfort you.”

“he’s mocking me,” you shot back, but choso’s quiet laugh was almost enough to distract you from the pain. almost. “you’re doing fine,” choso said after a beat, his voice soothing in a way that made your stomach flip. 

“thanks,” you muttered, your face heating up for reasons that definitely had nothing to do with him. meanwhile, bongo continued his reign of chaos, now swiping at choso’s dangling ponytail like it was his personal cat toy. “you’re really just gonna let him do that?” you asked incredulously. choso shrugged, completely unfazed. “he’s keeping himself entertained. and you, apparently.”

“entertained is not the word i’d use,” you grumbled, but your mouth twitched despite yourself.

“well, at least one of us is having fun,” choso said, his tone light.

and maybe it was the distraction of bongo’s antics, or the way choso’s calm presence made the pain a little more bearable, but by the end of the session, you were almost… relaxed. as choso finished up, he finally plucked bongo off his shoulder and held him up, his strong hands making your cat look oddly small. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, though there was no bite to his words.

“you have no idea,” you said, shaking your head. choso handed bongo back to you, his lips curving into that faint smile again. “next time, maybe leave him at home.”

you glanced down at bongo, who was purring smugly in your arms. “yeah, not likely.” choso chuckled, wiping his hands clean. “figured.”

as you left the shop, you couldn’t help but think that bongo might’ve been onto something with his whole shoulder-sitting act. maybe your chaotic little furball had better instincts than you gave him credit for.

— NANAMI KENTO  ₍^. .^₎

it’s always the quiet moments when bongo chooses chaos. you were mid-face mask, your skin glowing with the kind of self-care that influencers would kill for, when your furry menace decided to bolt out the backdoor like he had urgent business. “bonggoooo!” you screeched, stumbling after him in your ratty pajamas and slippers that definitely weren’t made for running.

the scent of the bakery hit you like a brick wall. god, how does it smell expensive? buttery, sugary, and somehow elitist all at once. you didn’t have time to contemplate the metaphysics of aromas because bongo had already darted through the bakery’s back entrance like he owned the place. by the time you caught up, panting and slightly disheveled, you were greeted by the sight of nanami kento, the bakery’s perpetually composed owner, standing in the middle of his flour-dusted kitchen. and in his hands, like a prized artifact, was bongo.

kento held your cat aloft like some kind of culinary simba, his perfectly pressed apron dusted with flour. bongo, with his chubby belly and utterly unrepentant face, dangled there like he had no idea he’d just stormed into someone else’s livelihood. “this,” kento said, his deep, even voice somehow more judgmental than any glare could be, “is yours, i presume?” you swallowed hard, your face mask cracking slightly as you plastered on a smile. “yes! uh, that’s bongo. my cat. um, i’m so sorry—”

“he ran across my counter,” kento continued, his tone unchanging as he gently turned bongo to show you his flour-dusted paws. “he stepped in the dough. twice.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. bongo, ever the villain, reached out a paw and batted at kento’s tie, smearing it with a bit of leftover flour. “i’ll… i’ll pay for the damages,” you stammered, mortified. “or, uh, write an apology letter. from bongo. he’s very articulate.”

kento raised a brow, lowering bongo but still holding him like he was a particularly troublesome baguette. “a letter?”

“yeah, uh, he’s got great penmanship,” you blurted, because apparently, when embarrassed, you just doubled down on ridiculousness. kento sighed, setting bongo down on the floor. your cat immediately started rubbing his face against kento’s leg like they were old friends. “he’s lucky he’s cute,” kento muttered, though his tone softened slightly.

“he’s really not,” you mumbled, scooping bongo into your arms. “he’s a menace.”

“i’ve noticed.” kento crossed his arms, eyeing bongo like he was calculating the exact amount of havoc the cat had wreaked. “next time, maybe keep him indoors.”

“yeah, definitely,” you said, clutching bongo tighter as he squirmed. “and, uh, if you ever need… cat-signed apology letters, i’m your person.”

kento gave you a long, measured look before sighing. “just keep him out of my kitchen.”

as you backed out of the bakery, clutching your flour-covered feline, you couldn’t help but wonder if bongo’s next target would be a crime that didn’t involve you humiliating yourself in front of absurdly attractive men. unlikely.

— TOJI FUSHIGURO ₍^. .^₎

moving to new york was supposed to be your fresh start. concrete jungle where dreams made of, blah blah blah. instead, you found yourself battling overpriced rent and a cat who had zero respect for personal boundaries.

toji, the moving guy, had been an unexpected lifesaver. with his messy scrawl of a name tag and a physique that screamed, “i bench press refrigerators for fun,” he made quick work of your moving boxes. it was almost comical how easily he hefted bongo’s cat tree—like it was a baguette instead of a glorified jungle gym for your chunky feline. you tipped him with cookies because that’s just who you are: a sucker for baked goods as a currency. and as toji waved goodbye and headed off, you gave yourself a little pat on the back for surviving the first day in the big apple. until you noticed bongo was missing.

cue the meltdown.

“bonggggoooooo!” you hollered, tearing through your barely unpacked apartment like a madwoman. every cupboard, every box, even the bathtub—it was all checked twice, thrice, and then some. no bongo. by the time you collapsed onto the floor, tears welling up, you were already planning the world’s most dramatic cat funeral. there’d be violins, speeches, and a photo slideshow of bongo’s finest “this idiot just ate plastic again” moments. then, a knock at the door.

you practically threw it open to find toji standing there, his enormous frame taking up most of the doorway. in his arms was bongo, looking about as offended as a cat could possibly look, his fur slightly ruffled but otherwise unscathed. “found him in my van,” toji said, his gravelly voice tinged with amusement. 

“oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for bongo, who—of course—refused to leave toji’s arms. “he’s such a menace, i’m so sorry—”

“don’t be,” toji interrupted, smirking as bongo nuzzled against his chest like a lovestruck teenager. “guess he’s got good taste.”

“good taste?” you repeated, incredulous. “he literally jumped into a stranger’s van. he’s one step away from being catnapped—i mean, kidnapped.”

“looks like he wouldn’t have minded,” toji quipped, scratching behind bongo’s ear and earning an annoyingly loud purr in return. you groaned, crossing your arms. “great. my cat’s in love with the moving guy.”

toji chuckled, finally setting bongo down. the traitor immediately twined around toji’s legs, shooting you a look that said this man is mine now. “guess i’m unforgettable,” toji teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“yeah, well,” you said, scooping up bongo before he could claw his way back into toji’s arms, “don’t let it go to your head.”

toji gave you a crooked grin, his scarred lip tugging slightly. “welcome to new york,” he said, turning to leave. as he walked away, bongo let out a mournful meow, his paw swiping at the air like he was starring in his own rom-com goodbye scene.

“ugh, big boys,” you muttered, carrying bongo back inside. but as you closed the door, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, new york wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

— GOJO SATORU  ₍^. .^₎

you knew gojo had a flair for theatrics, but the day he decided to charm everything with a pulse—including bongo, the cat cast for your shared scene—you realized just how far he was willing to go. bongo, a seasoned feline actor with a resume longer than yours, had been nothing but professional. meanwhile, gojo? not so much. “who’s a handsome boy? you are, aren’t you?” gojo cooed at bongo during a break, crouched low and ruffling the cat’s fur like they were old pals.

“you know he’s supposed to like my character, right?” you deadpanned from your chair, sipping lukewarm coffee. 

“it’s called method acting, babe,” gojo replied with a wink, scratching under bongo’s chin. “gotta make sure he’s comfortable with me too.”

“yeah, by stealing my scene partner.”

gojo just grinned, letting bongo climb onto his lap like a tiny, furry king surveying his kingdom.

fast-forward to the final day of shooting, and bongo had developed what could only be described as a toxic attachment to gojo. 

“aaaand that’s a wrap!” the director called, the crew breaking into applause. you were ready to celebrate—finally free of gojo’s antics—until chaos erupted.

bongo’s trainer approached to retrieve the cat, only for bongo to hiss dramatically and latch onto gojo’s designer blazer with claws sharp enough to shred through fabric and ego alike. “uh, a little help?” gojo yelped, trying to peel the cat off without damaging what was likely a five-figure jacket. the trainer tugged at bongo gently, but the cat clung harder, his claws hooking into the seams as if his very life depended on staying attached to gojo.

“he’s tearing my clothes!” gojo screeched, his voice hitting a pitch you hadn’t thought possible.

“you’re the one who told him he’s a ‘handsome boy,’” you snarked, watching the scene unfold with far too much glee.

“he is a handsome boy! but now he’s a demon!” gojo cried, trying to shake off the cat, who let out a mournful wail and doubled down on his grip. the crew burst out laughing as bongo dramatically clung to gojo’s chest like he was recreating a tragic love scene.

“just let him go, he’s attached to you now,” you teased, crossing your arms and watching the chaos unfold.

“i can’t!” gojo wailed. “he’s got my soul in his little murder mittens!”

finally, the trainer managed to pry bongo off, leaving behind shredded fabric and a very disheveled gojo. “you owe me a new jacket,” he grumbled, glaring at you like this was somehow your fault. “i owe you nothing,” you shot back. “maybe next time, don’t flirt with cats.”

as bongo was carried off set, still yowling dramatically, you couldn’t help but think: if nothing else, that cat had impeccable taste in people to torment.

[mpregcatboyshin]

9 people you'd like to get to know better

tagged by: @wingsofblackleather thanks actually i want to do more of these things

last song : mother nature by mgmt

favorite colors: orange, earthy greens, and every shade of fall red.

currently watching: nothing actually. i have a lot of shows queued up but just never have the time or energy to fully invest in them :(

currently reading: a bunch of fanfics lol. but i was making my way through the one piece manga, but it's been a while since I last read it.

sweet/spicy/savory: i was team sweet during the splatfest. i can't resist a good dessert :)

relationship status: single. im wanting to kind of just date or get into some kind of really free and loose relationship rn. ive been wanting to experiment for a while, but i need to get my heart sorted out first probably

current obsession: if you can't already tell, it's the game your turn to die. specifically the character shin tsukimi. he's my precious little sopping wet meow meow kitten baby boy. i love him so much ill include some of my favorite tags ive made about him at the bottom.

last thing googled: how to calculate energy of excitation (chem hw)

currently working on: literally 5 different fucking pieces of fanfiction because i hate (read: love) myself :)))))) and also on my feelings and in general becoming weirder. like im full on debating on just rb porn on this acc instead of my side and being more open about kinks because honestly fuck it. (i am still very much embarrassed however)

if you want to:

@dragonymango @daringdraconicdeity @aizayawa @actoons @crehador @egg-scramped @idiot-boi-momo @enderon @faeflowerz

[feraltwinkseb]

November 13, 2010 - Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

Source: Mark Thompson/Getty Images Europe & Paul Gilham/Getty Images Europe

[tiger-balm]

I personally think it's hilarious that skate blades can just pop out of players boots mid game,, straight up loony toons situation watching them try to get off the ice

[shreddeddescent]

bro why does it take you like 45 minutes to write one fuckign sentence OH cuz we're in mikeys head again HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[velvetpill]

jasim has broken into your house and is just staring at u like this, wyd

[welcome-to-green-hills]

First off, I love that your cat is named after a literary character! (Three Musketeers?)

Second, does your cat thinks Tails is his baby now?

It was a unanimous decision to name my cat “D’Artagnon,” my dear. (He’s a goofball).

I am… 99.9% positive that my cat believes that Tails is his baby. They’re both orange, so… yeah! 😊❤️✨

[eatzyuu]

silly little headcanon that, as Robin, each of the Batboys were trained to go limp when being lifted from areas of danger, sort of like how kittens go limp when mother cats grab the scruff of their neck. it just makes so it’s easier for Batman to grab the little Robin from a particularly dangerous area.

i imagine that, even after his Robin days, Nightwing still has going limp trained into him. one time, when he and Starfire were in a particularly dangerous battle and cornered by a cliff edge, Starfire grabs hold of him and he just limp. Starfire assumes something has happened to him and panics, but finds that Nightwing is fine. he’s a bit embarrassed, seeing that he still has his Robin training instilled deeply within him somewhere.

but where it gets even funnier is with Jason. as Robin, it’s always a little cute to see Batman grab him by the scruff of his neck and to see the small child go limp and get carried off into safety. but when Batman and Red Hood get into disagreements during the rare missions that they do come together to take down a common threat, seeing a grown, 6’0” man going limp and then realizing he did so is miraculously laughable. Tim doesn’t let him forget about his Robin habits only to get grabbed and go limp as well.

[bi-writes]

simon’s reactions to mail order bride finding another cat and bringing it home

mail-order bride

there's a ruckus outside. clattering inside of the rubbish bins, rattling the metal of them. and maybe it could've just been a wild animal, something tearing apart the garbage bags and making a mess, but then there were a few cries, squeaks of terror that were too unnerving to ignore. a cry of distress that wouldn't allow for a good night's rest.

simon throws the back door open. there's a few soldiers milling about, leaning against the outside of the mess hall and barracks as they have a smoke or play some cards. some of them are playing games under the lights, kicking around footballs for a laugh. but he hears it, right around the corner, little eeps and have his neck craning as he turns into the alleyway behind his office.

there's a set of bins there that reek. but he can see the rustle of plastic moving, and when he picks up the top bag and clicks his flashlight on, he's met with fierce hisses of a little orange tabby kitten, with red around her eyes and oil sticking to her fur.

"fuckin' christ," simon mutters, sucking on his teeth. he doesn't know why he's out here. normally, the sounds of it wouldn't even force him to blink twice, but he couldn't help himself, he had to follow it. he looks over his shoulder for a moment, debating, but his mind is already made up.

he thinks of you. his pretty little wife, probably curled up on the couch at home with your candles lit and something warm in the oven. the cat is probably snoozing on one of her shelves, one of her arms hanging over the edge and her little face squished into the cushions he had installed on top of them recently. he thinks of your pretty face and your glowing smile, and he hears your voice in his head as he looks back down into the bin and makes eye contact with the mangy little thing again.

he reaches down and grabs it by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up. her little paws spread, showing her tiny claws, and he sighs, holding it out in front of him as he makes his way back to the barracks.

"what in the living fuck is that, LT?" a bubbly voice laughs. simon continues to hold the kitten out at arms length, his boots heavy as he heads towards the washrooms.

"wot the fuck does it look like, sergeant?" simon snaps. johnny picks up his pace so he can walk beside him, laughing as he smacks simon the back of his vest. simon pushes the door open, dropping the kitten into the sink.

it continues to cry and yip at him. he turns the water on, reaching over for a bottle of dish soap and squeezing it until it splatters against the kitten's back. johnny watches from the doorway as simon tries to scrub the little thing clean, cursing at it all the way as he tries to get all the gunk off of it.

"stop fuckin' squirmin'," simon huffs. "ow! oi! ya lil' shit!"

when simon turns the water off, the kitten is shaking in the sink. simon looks around for something to dry it with, and when he finds nothing, he turns to look at johnny.

"give me your shirt," simon demands. johnny stands up straight.

"what?"

"did i fuckin' stutter? give me y'r bloody shirt, sergeant."

"but! but tha's--"

"an order," simon barks. "give it ta me."

johnny rolls his eyes, gripping his shirt from the back collar and pulling it over his head before tossing it at his lieutenant. simon catches it, picking up the kitten and wrapping it in johnny's shirt before tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"'m goin' 'ome. tell price i'll be back in a few days."

"y'r goin' home? it's late, and we--"

"goodnight, johnny."

you jolt awake when you hear the front door. you rub your eyes, sitting up in bed, but you relax a little when you hear the sound of simon's boots in the living room dropping by the door. you get out of bed, putting your slippers on. when you flick the lamp on, simon is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, in full gear and his skull mask as he looms there, his head nearly hitting the top of the threshold.

"simon?" you croak softly. "i...i thought you weren't gonna be home for a few days."

he's holding something, a ball of bundled-up fabric, and you sniffle as you come closer.

"what is it?" you ask. "is something wrong?"

and then you hear it. the softest little chirp, a squeak coming from his arms. you lean over a little, reaching over and pulling back the fabric, and you let out a little gasp as you see two little yellow eyes blinking up at you, surrounded by tuffs of wet and wild orange fur.

"oh! simon!" you breathe, putting a hand to your chest. "wha...w-what--"

"was in the rubbish," simon mutters, clearing his throat. "i couldn't..."

you look up at him. you can only see his eyes, dark with eye-black smudged save for his blonde lashes, and you soften when you see the way he's looking down. he's frowning, but you know he isn't upset. simon cares, more than he'd like to admit, and you reach up with one delicate hand and touch the skull gently, stroking the cheek of it.

"i know," you say softly, smiling up at him. simon sighs, a little shakily, you notice, and you pass your thumb over where his lips would be before taking the bundle from his arms. you hear what simon doesn't say, understand what he's having difficult accepting, the things that aren't possible for him anymore, the things he has to do to keep himself sane now that there's a voice in his head that always sounds just like yours.

helpless, sweet little kitten, with claws like knives and a temper unlike that of simon's. the thoughts that went through his head, you know them, even if he doesn't tell you. when he saw this little thing, when he saw those big eyes.

i couldn't leave her behind.

no. he couldn't.

[gremlingottoosilly]

high af reader legitimately thinking slasher konig is a huge ass bear as he murders her friends

"oh damn..that's large ass bear"

konig covered in blood and guts : ".."

Slasher!Konig who actually thinks it was a compliment. Come on, this guy never heard a nice word in his life - this, combined with his fucked up views on love and affection, makes him think that your screams of terror are actually affectionate moans, and your pleads for mercy are just indicating your arousal. So, when you really think he is a bear for a hot minute, and you yell it to the people in your group...yep, everything checks out - you're madly in love. You're showering him in compliments. You adore him. Only when he rips off your friend's arm with nothing but a huge ass knife - and you're pretty sure that bears do not use knives, even the big ones - you realize it's a man. A really big, scary man. Covered in blood and guts, leaning closer to you with the most crazed look in his eyes, his bloody hands reaching to grab your... "Danke, Schatzen. Didn't know you could be so adorable" He grabs you by the scruff of your neck, like a kitten. Flips you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, so your nose presses right into something that feels like a pile of guts clinging to his uniform, and you'd throw up right on his boots, but a firm hand on your butt makes you freeze. Dead in your tracks. This guy is definitely not a bear, but can rival one in the sheer size - you hate to admit it, but you're almost impressed at just how fucking big he is. Too big. You don't want to admit it, of course, but the guy of his size shouldn't be this fucking big. Konig thinks it was all flirt. He finally found himself a perfect pretty wife who actually prefers her husband to be bloody and covered in guts, and that calling him a bear is sort off a weird nickname. He doesn't really care - he adores this too fucking much.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic III

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're being suspicious

There is a hole underneath your fence, at the very end of the garden.

Also at the end of the garden, is a shed. It doesn't get used much so it's a little run down.

There's no connection between the hole and the fence, not an obvious one anyway. Not one that would make Caitlin investigate them both so obviously.

She's much more concerned finding out the reason for your strange behaviour.

You've been shifty recently, which is especially strange for such a little girl. Your second birthday is coming up very quickly but you've seemed to develop fairly quickly now that you've been hanging around with Sam and Kristie's Chook when Caitlin and Katie are busy.

You've also gotten shockingly independent.

There's no need for your leash when you're in the house and Caitlin's happy to let you run around the garden by yourself as she does the dishes, checking on you through the windows periodically.

You're being a little weird and what's even weirder is Coopurr's food going missing.

Caitlin's sure that she's not overfeeding him because he hasn't put on any weight but his biscuits and his wet food are going down so quickly that someone must be taking them.

That someone, it turns out, is you.

Caitlin catches you doing it one afternoon when you grab the whole box of biscuits and a sachet of wet food before toddling out to the garden.

She sighs, letting you scamper up the far side and duck behind the shed before getting up to follow you.

Caitlin really hopes you haven't been eating them like you were when you were younger.

"Gremlin!" She calls," Don't take-"

A puffed up ball of fur hisses at her from where it's dangling from the scruff of it's neck in your hand.

"What is that?!"

"My Spicy!" You say proudly," Spicy, Spicy, Spicy!"

"Katie!" Caitlin yells," You better come out here!"

You're still holding the kitten by the back of the neck, humming to yourself as Caitlin notices the pile of cat food you're been hoarding.

She crouches in front of you, gently reaching for the kitten before flinching back when it tries to scratch her. "Where...Where did you find it?"

"Stuck under fence," You tell Caitlin," I save Spicy."

Caitlin forces a smile on her face. "That's nice. How long have you been looking after him?"

"One week," You reply," My Spicy is special!"

Caitlin warily shuffles closer, kept at bay by the flashing claws off this feral kitten.

"You're being very good with Spicy but can I have him?"

You frown. "Spicy's hungry."

"I'll feed him."

"Caitlin? What's-"

Katie skids to a stop in front of you both, mouth hanging open and discarded dish towel on her shoulder from where she was using it to dry the dishes.

"Spicy, my kitty!" You exclaim," See?"

Spicy snarls and Katie very gently throws the dish towel at him before taking him from your grip.

"Spicy!" You cry, moving to kick Katie but Caitlin's already got you by the back of your overalls, dangling you above the ground as you whine," My Spicy!"

"Katie's just...taking Spicy for a bath."

"I am?"

"Yes, Katie, you are and then we'll take Spicy to the vet."

Secretly, Caitlin hopes the vet will tell her that she needs to take the kitten to the shelter. She doesn't particularly want it in her house but you seem to have gotten attached, if the way you keep fighting against her hold is any indication.

"Want Spicy! Spicy's mine!"

There's that as well and, when Katie comes downstairs with the kitten suitably pissed off and still hissing, you go straight up to it for cuddles and it relaxes in your arms.

"No vet for Spicy!" You insist," Spicy's good!"

"I'm sure Spicy is..." Katie's arms are full of scratches. "...Tolerable but we still need to check he's not sick."

"Then bring home!"

"I don't know, Gremlin, he might want to be with other cats." Katie's very proud of herself for coming up with that excuse, mentally patting herself on the back even as Caitlin shakes her head in disbelief.

You unwrap her excuse so easily, pointing to where Coopurr is sitting, licking his own bum.

"Have Coopurr," You point out," Coopurr is cat. Spicy is cat."

"Er..."

"We keep Spicy," You declare, nodding and rocking your new kitten," Spicy, new home!"

[bambisspeckles]

Stowaway ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: You accidentally sneak onto pirate crew 141's ship CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), self-edited! WC: 1.8k

It was a mistake, honestly you should have just stayed put. You have no idea why you thought it'd be a good idea to sneak onto any ship, at all, ever.

You suppose this cruel fate is karma for your actions.

It started in the early hours of the morning, when many passenger ships were docked. You had decided to pack a small bag with your most important belongings and sneak into one of the ships cargo holds. In theory it was a good idea, you figured most of the crew we be pretty occupied tending to passengers needs, therefore your chances of getting caught and thrown into the ocean were slim. It's a shame you the ship you decided to board wasn't a passenger ship.

You should have known, it didn't look remotely like a passenger ship. There weren't any nice amenities, only one small dining room, not nearly enough beds for the amount of people that come to and from your island, and there were too many suspicious looking locked chests. There was a voice inside your head screaming for you to get off the ship but the adrenaline being pumped through your body was too high, and the yearning to escape the hell your home brought to you overruled almost all your sense of logic and reasoning. When you found the cargo hold, you didn't even think twice before making your way inside, quickly scanning your surroundings to find the best place to hide. You decide to hide behind some unmarked crates, figuring they'd be bothered the least. You squeeze your body behind the boxes, maneuvering so all of you can be hidden well.

It feels like you're there for days, realistically you know that's not true, but you're so close to leaving this island and never looking back. No matter how tempted you are to bolt, you keep yourself firmly planted behind the crates. Finally, you hear voices, it doesn't seem like there's very many people and that makes your anxiety sky rocket, but it's much too late to sneak off and try to find another ship to become a stowaway in. Pushing your knees further into your chest, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. For hours you hear voices and footsteps above you, but no one seems to have any suspicions. In fact it's been so calm the rocking of the ship has your eyes fluttering shut, you've been fighting sleep but nothing has transpired for so long maybe a few minutes of shut eye won't hurt. As your mind battles between alertness and staying asleep you hear something.

Footsteps. Coming down the steps, right into the cargo hold.

Your heart drops into your stomach and your breath hitches. You squeeze your body into itself in an attempt to make it smaller, one of your hands coming to clasp your mouth shut. The footsteps get louder and louder until you see a large figure standing in the archway. You go rigid as you get a better look at him. He's no average sailor, he's a fucking pirate.

"Great." You think wryly. "If he finds me then I really am dead."

He's moving around some boxes, you're not quite sure why, and for a moment you think he has no clue you're there.

Unfortunately for you, that's where you're wrong.

In the blink of an eye he grabs you from behind your crate wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten. The look in his eye is dark, and the rest of his face is covered by a mask, a skull print adorning the fabric. He says nothing, only staring at you for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder and walking back up the steps, presumably to bring you to the rest of the crew.

Oh. you're totally fucked now.

The mans footsteps attract the attention of his crew as he walks across the deck, when he stops walking, he practically throws you onto the ground, forcing you to kneel before three other men.

"Wha' a bonnie thing she is… S' what tha' noise was? Was startin' worry I was finally losin' it." A man, Scottish you think, says as he stares at you. His thumb dragging down the side of your face as a devilish smirk graces his lips.

You flinch under his touch and the Scotsman quickly removes his hand but his touch is soon replaced by another, a man much more imposing than he. Rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Was wonderin' why it sounded like there was a rat down in the cargo," A dark glint flashes through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Now tell me, stowaway, wha' the hell are ya doin' on my ship."

Tears well in your eyes as you struggle against his grip, and you can feel his impatience growing as he waits for you to respond. After another moment, the final man turns to speak to you.

"Captain asked ya a question love, best answer him before he gets angry." His voice is surprisingly gentle, and when you meet his gaze, soft brown eyes stare back at you, eyes filled with pity.

The look in his eye breaks you, and fat tears begin rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" You choke out your words between sobs, your body taut under the piercing gaze of the Captain.

A beat of silence passes before the Captain of the ship releases you from his grip, your body crumbling into itself.

"I didn't know! I didn't- I don't… I just wanted to leave! I promise I didn't take anything a-and you can drop me off at your next stop, just please don't hurt me…" Your words come out watery, your voice hoarse and snot coming out of your nose, ugly sobbing as these men surround you.

The man with the soft brown eyes crouches down next you, his gentle hand wiping tears off your cheeks.

"You poor thing, you're all outta' sorts. M' sure you didn't mean any harm…" He looks towards his Captain but his head is still angled in your direction. "Go easy on her sir, poor thing is trembling."

The Captain scoffs, his arms folding over his chest as he studies you, his gaze scrutinizing, piercing through you.

"She shoulda' thought of that before sneaking onto my ship." He gives you another once over before ordering you to stand on your feet. You figure it's best to do what he says so you rise from the ground, knees almost buckling under you.

The group of men stare at you for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do with you. After a few moments, a deep voice from behind finally speaks, you turn to look at him, his skull mask making your spine tingle with terror.

"We should just throw er' off the ship, no bloody reason to keep the thing around." You wince at the way he refers to you, objectifying, dehumanizing.

"Now, now, Ghost, nae reason tae make such a hasty decision. The kitten's completely harmless! I say we keep er', it'll be so nice to have a bonnie thing on board." The man, Ghost, scoffs.

"We don' need liabilities layin' around Johnny. Sides' got no use for er'. M' sure Price is inclined to agree with me." Ghost turns his head towards Price, presumably waiting for some type of agreeance on what he said.

Before the Captain can even get a word out, he's interjected.

"M' inclined to agree with Soap- for different reasons," He pauses shooting Soap a look, but he merely shrugs back. "But I agree all the same. I mean look at er' poor thing is terrified, I doubt she came to pillage our goods Captain."

Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mulls over his, limited, options. Everyone, including you, waits for him with bated breath. Selfishly, you hope he'll keep you around a bit longer, at least then you'll get a chance to make an escape plan.

Finally, the Captain speaks.

"She can stay, for now. We can keep er' in the cellar until I figure out wha' the hell to do with her." His words carry a tone of finality, a fact that has Ghost scoffing.

"You're jus' pickin' sides cause' Gaz wants to keep er' around." He motions towards the man next to you, bitter venom coming out alongside his words.

Gaz rolls his eyes, blowing out with an irritated sigh.

"Price isn't picking sides, he's doing what's right. Just cause' you don't agree with it doesn't mean that-" Price puts his hand on Gaz's shoulder, interrupting his sentence. A silent way of telling him "settle down."

Gaz relaxes under the Captains touch.

"Gaz, Soap, take er' down to the cellar, we'll keep er' there for now. Ghost, come with me to my quarters." Ghost mumbles something in response, but his words are muffled by his mask, something you're sure he's grateful for at this moment.

You, Soap, and Gaz watch him for a moment as he follows Price like a kicked puppy. When they're finally out of view, Soap and Gaz turn their attention back to you.

"C'mon kitten, yer gonna ave' tae be a bit uncomfortable tonight, the Captain didnae plan for any stowaways.." He chuckles at you playfully, something you'd find much more comforting under different circumstances.

You suddenly feel a hand on your back, the skin a bit rough even through the fabric of your clothes. You whip your head to look behind to see Gaz, his soft brown eyes still filled with that same look of pity. He and Soap begin gently guiding you towards the ships cellar.

"It's alright love, The Captain can be a bit cruel but he won't hurt you. Even pirates have their limits… Besides, I assure you we're not nearly as bad as some of the other pirates out there. We'll get you sorted out in the morning."

You have no reason to trust these men, all you've known is that pirates cause pain and destruction everywhere they go, but the only thing you can do right now is trust them. So, you nod timidly, letting them guide without resistance.

Hopefully you can escape at the next docking place.

[talesfromlissom]

Hello!!! Your inbox looked loney :). Spare HC's for Optimus, Megatron, Smokescreen and Arcee for a bot!reader who's bigger than them? 😀😀

Reader whose taller than OP, Megs, Smokes and Arcee // TFP || Could be seen as either romantic or platonic

WARNINGS/TAGS - None, enjoy :)

A/N - I go feral when someone makes the reader bigger/stronger than the character they’re shipped with. Guys, give me big af and buff readers; cmon!!!

MEGATRON

He will try to fight you, like 100%. It doesn’t matter if you’re even more loyal to the Decepticon cause than Soundwave. He will try to fight you and won’t stop until he wins. What’s worst is if you let him win, he’ll demand a rematch. 

He thinks your size is excellent for virtually everything except that people will sometimes mistake you for the leader of the Decepticons (if you’re nearby) instead of him. This is primarily the rare, isolated species that the Decepticons stumble across when they travel the galaxy that know nothing of the war. 

If you want to mess with him, put his stuff in high places. Depending on your relationship, he might use you for spare parts, beat the shit out of you, or just begrudgingly ask you to get the object off of the high shelf. 

If you’re strong enough and can pick him up, he’ll be the angriest mech in the galaxy (he already is, but even more so). He’ll flail around, swear at you, and everyone will be shitting bricks and looking away from your ass whopping. Scruffing him like a kitten will guarantee this, but again, depending on how close you are, he might become a grumbling idiot. 

He might ask you to mass displace to feel better about himself sometimes because he’s an asshole

Laughs when your forehead or frame gets stuck/hits doorframes before doing the same thing probably 5 minutes later because he’s also tall 

OPTIMUS PRIME

The shared pain of being tall af is the first thing he thinks of before being wholly weirded out

The only person taller than him on Earth is Megatron, but Megatron also turns into a jet, so he isn’t sure if that counts. 

He most likely gives you a map of the base, marking off doorways and other entrances that are either too big or too small. He’s a big bot and has this map on hand at all times in his own data banks. Its most likely pulled up in the many, many tabs on his HUD. 

Don’t scruff him either. He doesn’t have much plating on the back of his neck, and his back is extremely sensitive due to it mostly being kibble, wiring, and being hit in his back way too many times for comfort. Picking him up regardless will most likely just prompt him to ask you to put him down before he threatens cleaning duty for the next month if you don’t. 

He won’t put you on cleaning duty don’t worry 

If you tease him about it he’ll tell Ratchet and then Ratchet will put you on cleaning duty. Beware the doctor. 

ARCEE

everyone is taller than her, so she doesn’t really care. Is having to crane her neck to look up at you annoying? Yes. 

Imagine that meme of the police officer having to stand on his car to flip the taller person off; that’s her to you on some days. 

Don’t pick her up either; she’ll stab you; she absolutely hates that. She’s like an angry chihuahua when that happens.

She’s less likely to fight you if you are helping her. Sometimes, she likes to use you as a perch to climb onto things or just to be high up. Sometimes, she also likes to sit on your shoulders to pretend she’s tall. 

She’ll probably use you for shelter during rain, snow, etc. 

She claims she does it with everyone and you’re not special (you are) 

SMOKESCREEN

He’ll also perch on you like Arcee, but it's for silly reasons rather than a tactical advantage. 

If you have audio fins or something along those lines, he’ll grab those and pretend to use them like joysticks. Indulging him will encourage this behavior; do not fall for it. 

He likes to feel tall and will ask a lot of questions about what it's like to be tall, which is ironic given that he technically is of average height. 

Failing to answer these questions will result in more. 

Honestly, he’ll also hide underneath your frame while it's raining. He hates the rain because it gets mud all over his paint and undercarriage. It's annoying to clean out, and you’re the perfect umbrella, in his opinion. 

He can and will laugh at you for banging your head on doorways before he walks into the wall right next to you or trips over something. 

WORD COUNT - 686

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Past self meeting future self is actually one of my favourite trope, Could I please request Overlord!Husk meeting Husk and s/o's triplets, I feel like after the confusion he would refuse to put any of them down, and of course the kittens love him because it's their dad just fancier.

A/n: and after he got back to his own time he went to his s/o {you} and states he wants kids

Being in another time where he wasn't an Overlord! Fine ya whatever. He could handle that, I mean it's not like everything he worked hard for was gone but it wasn't all bad....he did have you.

He couldn't help but scowl as he watched his other self bend down behind the counter to grab something. "How did I get so pathetic?"

"Me? Pathetic?" Husk tensed. "I have a wife and kids, I ain't pathetic." Sure he may not have his soul but he was happy, he had people that loved and cared him.

Rolling his neck, Husk glared at him then wrinkled his nose. "Try not go touch anything, I have something I need to grab."

Watching himself walk away, Overlord!Husk slumped into the seat though he did his best to ignore the sudden sounds of yips coming his way though it did not take long to feel three tiny bodies slam into him. "Shit, what?" Grabbing the scruff of what slammed into him, he pulled it back seeing a white ball of fluff with tiny wings.

A choir of papa's echoing throughout the room as the other two snuggled deep within his own wings, tiny little body's. "Listen I ain't." Gritting his teeth he looked at the tiny little kit the struggled to free it's self from his grasp. She was so small, a lot smaller than the other two. "Pa."

Sighing,Overlord!Husk brought the little one to his chest. His claw scratching the top of her head, a soft purr escaping her little body as she nuzzled more into his chest.

"You've got to be shitting me." Husk gripped the bottle of alcohol in his grasp. Seeing his kits, in the smug assholes arms was enough to send him over the edge.

"Husk please...they're finally sleeping and I am very tired." You placed your hand on Husk's shoulder to calm him down. "He won't be here long."

Grumbling, Husk wanted nothing more than to smash this bottle over his head but he would do anything for you and his kits. "Fine."

Overlord!Husk let out his own smirk as he looked you over. He couldn't help but feel something stir within him. The three kits were snuggled deep within his expensive suit. "Not my fault they like class."

Growling, Husk slammed his hand down on the table startling the kits awake. "LISTEN HERE YOU FAT FUCK."

Your own groan leaving your lips as the three kits let out a choir of cries. "Of course."

[ma1dita]

do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

[loserboysandlithium]

Memory Lane: Steve Harrington One Shot

Summary: (Older Steve x reader) You and your husband Steve decide to go on a hike. When you come across your old make out spot it sends you down memory lane and reminds you of all the good times you had there. And all the filthy things you used to do. ;) ⚠️explicit sexual content. minors DNI⚠️

“I think I’m getting old.” Steve pants as he wipes a bit of sweat from his forehead. You snort and roll your eyes at him as you continue up the incline of the trail, leaves crunching under your feet.

“Okay, grandpa.” you tease, turning around jogging backwards, earning a cheeky smile from him.

“Show off.” he smirks, jogging after you. You feel the cool fall wind on your cheeks as you spin around, sprinting away from him. His laugh echoes behind you as he hurries to catch up.

You squeal as he tackles you to the forest floor, his body landing on top of yours. His cheeks are rosy, his brown locks wildly disheveled, sticking out from beneath his yellow beanie.

You pout up at him. “You’re gonna break my back.” you joke and he smiles, leaning down kissing your lips gently, his scruff tickling your cheeks.

“Okay, grandma.” he laughs lightly, rolling off of you.

You stand up, brushing the leaves from your legs as you spot a familiar landmark to the left. Skull Rock. You smile reaching out to take his hand as you pull him closer. You can remember it so clearly. Meeting him here on those summer nights, being tangled in each other’s arms. It started as a simple make out spot. One that wasn’t exactly new to him. But you never thought the two of you would end up here now. Married with kids. A little house in a cute neighborhood.

You remember the excitement every time you got a call from him. The butterflies that would fill your stomach. And the first time he touched you was here. The first time you ever made him cum was right in this spot. His face forever burned in your memory.

“How long has it been since we’ve been here?” Steve whispers. His eyes meet yours as he leans against the old stone. Is he thinking the same thing? Thinking about all the times we had here.

“Too long.” you smile up at him, pressing your body against his. You kiss him. Softly at first, slowly increasing in intensity. Your arms wrap around his neck as his hands come to rest on your hips. You moan into his mouth as your need for him grows.

“Kiss me like you used to.” you murmur, taking a fistful of his hair as you press your body even closer to his. His tongue greets yours hungrily and you smile as you feel his hands move to your ass. He lifts you suddenly, spinning you around until your back is pressed against the cool rock.

“Baby..” he moans as you both pant into the kiss, your tongues swirl together wildly as he squeezes your ass, your hips grinding against his waist.

You wrap your lips around his tongue, sucking forcefully, pulling a rumble from his chest. His lips move to your neck, sucking fiercely, the pressure of his lips sure to leave a bruise behind. You couldn’t remember the last time he had marked you so publicly.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your head falls back giving him more room to litter your skin with his love bites.

“Steve..” you whimper desperately as his teeth sink into your soft skin. You push him off of you, dropping your feet back to the ground. You grab his jacket pushing him against the rock instead as you drop to your knees.

You can see his hard on through his sweatpants making you throb in between your thighs.

“Right here?” he exhales as you hook your fingers in the hem of his sweats dropping them to his ankles.

“We used to do it all the time, baby. Don’t you remember?” you purr, taking his hard dick in your hand.

“Y-Yes.. oh shit, baby.” he stutters. You spit on his cock, using your saliva to glide your hand up and down quickly.

“Holy shit, honey.” Steve pants as you bring his cock to your lips, focusing on the tip. Little kitten licks making his eyes fall shut. You kiss his thick head, moving your wet lips all around the mushroom tip, tasting his precum on your lips.

“Sweetie, I- mmm.” he struggles to form a sentence as you finally take him in your mouth.

You moan around his cock, sucking sloppily, looking up at his face full of pleasure.

“Yes.. oh my god, yes.” he mumbles as his head falls back against the rock behind him. You bring your nails to his thighs, sinking them into his skin as you swirl your tongue, bobbing up and down.

Praises fall from his kiss swollen lips as you gag and splutter around his thick member.

It had been a while since you’d given him head like this. Where you just couldn’t get enough. Where you craved to have his cum pour down your throat. Life gets busy and becomes routine and sometimes you forget the days where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Not anymore.

The noises coming from your husband are ones you haven’t heard in so long. You’re dripping from his raspy moans, his needy little whimpers. His jaw is slack, eyes rolled back into his head as brings his hands to your head.

“Baby.. oh fuck..”

He starts to gently press your head down, guiding his long cock deeper into your throat. Your eyes fill with tears as you do your best to relax your muscles.

You trail your fingers around to his ass, pulling his hips into you. He takes the hint and begins happily fucking your throat. Spit leaks from the corners of your lips as he uses you for his pleasure. He’s rough, slamming into your throat, fingers digging into your cheeks as he thrusts into you.

Tears stream down your face in little rivers as you attempt to hollow your cheeks. Your throat is sore already, you can’t imagine what it will feel like when tomorrow comes but you don’t care. You’ve missed this side of him. Animalistic, feral, slightly arrogant. King Steve.

“Look at you on your knees. You love this cock. L-Love having me pound your fucking throat, don’t you?” he chuckles and you nod through your tears. He sticks his foot between your thighs, his hiking boot landing right beneath your warmth.

“I can only imagine how wet you are, honey. Want you to cum too, angel.” he looks down at you with a cocky grin as he lifts the toe of his boot, pressing against the wet material of your leggings.

Holy shit.

You drop a little lower, slowly beginning to grind on his shoe, the friction making you moan immediately.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Steve moans as you look up at him fluttering your lashes. You speed up your hips, grinding your clit across his shoe, your orgasm building quickly.

“Gonna cum in that pretty mouth, baby. Want you to swallow for me.. j-just like you used to.” he grunts, his cock driving into your throat rapidly. You nod again, pleasure pulsing through you as you rut against the toe of his boot.

Your moans and cries send vibrations all around his dick as you both lose control. Your hips buck against him in short spasms as your pussy flutters around nothing. You force your eyes open to watch his face as he pumps your mouth full of his warm seed.

You swallow around his length as his cum coats your throat, his cock twitching uncontrollably in your mouth. He praises you, mumbling incoherently, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he gives you every last drop.

You slide your lips off of him and he pulls you back to your feet.

“Oh my fucking god.” you laugh breathlessly, kissing his soft lips, your fingers threading in his brown hair. Steve’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his breathing heavy as you kiss him.

“Call a sitter, because I’m really gonna break your back when we get home.” Steve burns, his eyes still gleaming.

Fuck yes. You bite your lip, leaning in closer. “Yes sir.”