#mutt mumbles

[direpunk]

does anyone wanna be my valentine

[moldmutt]

i am NOT a cute lil puppy i do NOT go 'uwu' and i am NOT a smol bean i am a PUBLIC SAFETY RISK that gets ANIMAL SERVICES CALLED ON IT and then i get PUT DOWN. that's the type of dog i am

[guttersniper]

watched westward the women last night and this moment right here with sharpshooter kid teaching one of the women to shoot is so mutt it made me laugh

[pepperyduck]

a/n: for the girlies with crusty tiny dogs! fem reader, dog is referred to as “she” 🩷

toji swears up and down he hates that little mutt of yours, all tiny and dumb-looking with those beady eyes that stare into his soul. every time he looks at it, he makes a dissatisfied snarl, mutters something about how stupid he thinks the dog is.

that is, until you’re invited on a girl’s trip for a week. toji has to care for that little beast while you’re away, and he couldn’t be anymore unhappy with it. and he’s rolling his eyes as you explain everything to him.

“food three times a day and if she’s hungry, you feed her again. also she loves to go on walks, she’ll let you know by whining at the door—or if she comes up to you and starts pawing at you. she also does that when she’s hungry, too.”

toji just listens and nods, keeping his hands held out for all the products you keep handing him—the grooming brush, the hair bows, the bedazzled leash, the treats, and the little dog carrier you can strap to yourself to carry it like a baby. ridiculous.

that same night, toji watches something on the television, totally engrossed in the old western tv shows that old men watch. but your puppy comes up to his feet, little eyes bore into him and it whines.

“what?” toji snaps, eyes flickering to the mutt who oh so rudely interrupted his show. but the dog only cocks it’s head to the side. “jeez,” he mumbles, leaning down to pick the animal up in his hands. the dog is surprisingly tiny in his palms, and soft. he will never admit his heart melted when it curled up next to him to drift off to sleep.

the next morning, as toji’s making breakfast for himself, he hears the faint steps of your puppy coming to greet him. his immediate reaction is to roll his eyes and glare, and he does, but that doesn’t stop him from giving some of his breakfast to the dog.

yes, he looks absolutely ridiculous walking the all too tiny animal down the street—a big, handsome, scary man with a teeny tiny little dog next to him is comedic to say the least.

toji even finds himself bathing your little pup one day, bent over the tub on his knees as he washes it’s fur with whatever vanilla scented soap you gave him. he grumbles and swears he hates it.

and when you come back, swinging open the door and saying, “where are my babies?!” you catch toji red-handed, preparing dinner for you and himself and your dog, with the animal in question strapped to his chest with a bow on it’s head.

he swears he didn’t enjoy the past week, he swears!!!

[screampied]

i want to sit on higuruma’s face and ride his nose so badly 😔😔

☆ higuruma x fem! reader

⤷ tags: cunnilingus, praise, riding higuruma’s nose

the minute you ask him, he’s so compliant.

at first you were sure higuruma would make fun of you. although, he’s the exact opposite—you find yourself hovering just over his mouth, barely.

higuruma’s fingers gently ghost against your hips before bringing a kiss against the middle fabric part of your panties.

“hey, if you wanna ride my nose, angel then jus’ do it,” and his voice was smooth, you stare at him, and by the second you’re growing more and more wet. “don’t be shy.”

“…o-okay,”

you mumbled, your knees bent, you were just casually lingering over him—you move yourself done just a bit and your panties rub against his nose.

higuruma chuckles, you were so frantic solely by the movement of your hips. higuruma licks a stripe against your underwear, watching you squirm in desperation before he moves the string to the side. “get nice ‘n comfy, that’s it.”

you gnaw on your lip, starting to move your hips just a bit against his face. you felt the tip of his nose repeatedly tap and prod against your pussy. the moment you felt his tongue softly go against your folds, you shudder from his touch.

“h—hiro,” you’d squeak out, and darkened eyes of his meet yours.

a single hand of his has a firm grip on your right thigh as he’s returning you a sensual stare. “fuck..” you panted, and he’s easily stimulating your clit with just a few licks and sucks of his tongue. you’re grinding against his face ploddingly, almost as if you were hesitating at first before he brings to hands to make you sit all on him.

the sounds of your own breathing started to pick up, and he looked so pretty underneath you—just his eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted and a tiny smirk pressing against the very corners of his lips.

fingers of yours started to go through his hair, giving it a slight yank, it’s unintentional and it drags out a groan from higuruma.

“easy, girl. easy.”

“sorry...”

you moaned, feeling his nose continuously rub against your pussy. the soft middle part just swiping all against your clit, his lips were attached, never releasing its grip.

it doesn’t take much long before your legs start to shake and judder. you felt yourself slowly reaching up to that pleasurable point.

“angel…just relax, i got you.” he purrs in a raspy voice, departing his lips for a brief moment just to kiss all against your puffed folds.

you were drenched, soaked even. his tongue had your eyes rolling back, backwards. higuruma teasingly brings a thumb towards your pussy and runs down your slit just for him to give it a sweet kiss. “could have you sit on my face all day, gorgeous.”

and he meant that, because after you always whined on wanting to ride his face—more specifically, his nose.

you’d find yourself doing it all the time, just sitting there, looking pretty until you came all on his face. “hiromi, hiro—”

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, and higuruma starts to stroke himself. you made him so hard he couldn’t help but touch himself. low husky grunts escaped from his lips as you’re an entire shaky mess on his face. “give it to me,” and his warm breath dances against your thighs—you feel him give your thighs a light pull forward towards his mouth and you moan. “come on baby, come on.”

his voice was so gentle, purely identical to his touch. the way his tongue grazed against every inch had you whining for more incessantly. so sloppy, occasionally he’d spit on your pussy just to lap it up with his tongue. he was covered from the nose down with your slick.

higuruma found himself giving your clit multiple kisses just to watch you cutely squirm and jolt against him.

your hands grip his hair and you’re whimpering. after a few seconds, your legs thrash and shake and then you came. he smiles at the way your body responded to his tongue, barely able to keep your hold on his hair.

“good girl, just make a mess ‘n let me clean it.” he mutters, giving your pussy a final kiss. “look at me. eyes down here,” and you move your eyes down towards him. higuruma grabs you off of him before pulling you close towards him. he brushes a thumb against your lips before planting a three second kiss on your mouth. so lewd, you tasted yourself all on his tongue — the sheer sweetness of it had you whimpering for more.

“…sweet girl.” he utters, and you moan into his mouth, returning it before feeling him reach a hand down to give your pussy a light squeeze. “i’m not finished with you yet, want more of you.”

his words had you pulsing, and as you continued to kiss him — with him breaking away every few seconds to speak, that’s when higuruma suddenly makes you bend over, softly caressing your ass with the palm of his hand. “arch just like that for me, yeah..”

[girl-lostconnection]

Acceleration AU (part 1)

Part 2

Warnings: plus size!fem!Reader, hints of pressure therapy, insecurities, swearing, Reader has abusive mom, mentions of abuse, Reader and Simon won’t talk to save their lives, only mention of Soap in this chapter

It’s supposed to be just another Christmas when everything changes.

You are not the biggest fan of changes, they rarely bring you (or Simon for that matter) something to be really happy about.

Therapist tells you it’s a defence mechanism, your need to feel that everything is the same otherwise it’s unpredictable, it’s out of your control and you don’t know what’s going to happen.

You don’t like not knowing things.

Makes you antsy, makes anxiety coil in your belly like rose bush, just growing and growing until thorns have no other place to dig in but your insides.

Simon doesn’t judge you for that, not when he has a slight (though how much is slight in terms of mental health) paranoia, possessive streak and need to oversee every bloody process or he starts vibrating with tension.

Simon grows up to be a bloody behemoth of a man — huge, broad and heavy. Bicep the size of your head. Midriff too thick to wrap both hands around it.

You shoot up in couple sizes as well, still broad shouldered, hips wider, thighs thicker, palms smaller than Simon’s but pack the same heavy smack he has.

Comes with the territory, in a way.

Can’t be defenceless in a city like Manchester when nightlife is never kind to a girl and strangers are all too eager to take advantage of a lonely bird on her way home.

Simon rumbles that you are “bloody perfect”, dropping his blond head in your lap on a usual movie night or laying on top of you without the fear of crushing under his weight.

Your hands around him comforting presence — softer underside of biceps cushioning against his shoulder blades.

“Bloody bliss. ‘m snug like a bug in a rug”, he mumbles, eyes closed and whole body limp — melting into yours, soaking up all the warmth and affection you so freely give.

“Am I a rug?”, you chuckle, eyes half lidded and soft, knuckles rubbing the tender point between his shoulder blades. Scratching him like he’s a big dog.

Simon reminds you of classical breeds of guard dogs people in rural areas use to protect their livestock and homes. Great Pyrenees, you think they are called.

Big, heavy, entirely unbothered by anything but the task at hand and very much blond — hair curling from moisture in the air and hot mist of the shower.

“You’r a blessing, luv”, Simon finally hums out, half way asleep, nose nudging your jaw up so he can properly nuzzle in your neck, your scent comforting him in a way he’s not sure he can explain. “ ‘m gonna sleep. Too tired. You’r okay?”

You hum, palm splaying over his back, just pressing it there so he can feel it, warm presence of it tearing out a satisfied “mm” from Simon.

It’s a routine at this point, something something regulation for him and you. You swap on regular basis, because sometimes you just need to be close to him and he needs someone’s weight to press him in the couch, enveloping him.

Not easy to be Simon’s personal blanket or a big spoon but you proud yourself on doing a pretty good job. The best one if you are to believe Simon himself.

You hum in return to his sound, your own hum soothing a scratching beast inside of Ghost’s head, mutt finally laying it’s big head on front paws and closing it’s eyes. Sometimes Simon wonders how’s so you are able to do just that.

When he can’t.

Maybe that’s what changed somewhere along the way. Maybe he just doesn’t need you as much anymore.

A traitorous childish part of you sometimes thinks that a lot of things were easier when you two were kids.

Both you and Simon — wide-eyed and yet unscarred, biggest scrapes on your bodies from face planting on the pavement after wearing sandals on the wrong legs.

It’s part you never share with Simon because it isn’t fair. Because the older you became the worse things at home were. The screaming, the pain, the bruises and tears. It was bad.

For Simon at times much worse than for you.

At least your mom was careful enough not to leave scars

You can’t miss something that signified hurt and helplessness for him, just because it was easier back then.

You can’t but part of you does.

You were inseparable once, teachers always knew that wherever one of you is they’d find another one.

Joined at the hip, glued to each other’s side, sharing silences and lunches and books and first kisses and secrets.

Time that now feels like honeyed berry of a memory — sugary sweet and popping with colour under your eyelids.

When did it change?

You know that it’s natural for people to grow up and part ways but you and Simon were always together. At home, at school, on weekends and holidays.

You left together after graduation, working odd jobs to pay for a tiny apartment with only one bed but really nice bathroom.

Simon shrugs and plops himself on the mattress saying that it’s not gonna be the first time you’ll be sleeping together. Why waste money you don’t have on a thing you don’t really need?

Simon says that if it gets too uncomfortable you’ll save up and by a second one, though it is very unclear where would you even put it. But it’s not uncomfortable and it becomes a new norm for you.

You were always together, intertwined tighter than any friends, closer than family, more long lasting than any relationships.

At times it felt like you two outgrew categories, but then you’d meet people and whilst introducing each other would need to choke out “my friend”.

How do you even tell people that this man is more than friend and more than boyfriend ever been for you?

How do you convey that Simon is family in the same way life long partners are?

How do you explain that Simon is the moon of your skies, that his presence and dark eyes and soft blond lashes and wild crooked grins have effect on you that no one else really has?

You never discussed your relationship, perhaps there simply was no need at the time. Both of you content to be the only permanent people in each other’s lives — the strongest connection. Each other’s priority.

Up until this Christmas.

Up until you get the cryptic “do you wanna celebrate not at home this year?” that makes your brows furrow.

It’s 2 weeks before holidays are going to start, you are wearing Simon’s black sweater and jeans, puff jacket hooked on the crook of your elbow, pressed to your side.

Which now feels like it wasn’t the idea because it’s too hot, the mall is crowded and it’s warm in a way December in Manchester never is supposed to be.

You blame it on people and global warming, while manoeuvring your way to the food court, buying yourself whatever cold soda they have because fucking hell, why is it so hot in here.

Your bags are getting plopped on the seat right next to yours when you stretch out your legs, thick winter boots feeling heavier than usually.

What can he mean by that? You two always celebrated Christmases and a birthdays at home. Together.

This way it was less people, less potential triggers and grounds for overstimulation for both of you.

God knows you can’t handle screaming, crowds making you nervous and too hot and Simon coils into tight wound spring when he hears balloons pop or feels people graze against him.

A quick noncommittal “why” is all Simon gets in return.

Just so you receive back “been invited to Glasgow to celebrate. Think you can make it?” and oh wow, someone’s making friends out there.

Simon doesn’t give you any additional information and doesn’t provide any further context probably deciding that there’s nothing more you need to know.

You take a deep breath, staring down the message, fingers drumming against tabletop — sharp tap-tap-tap doing nothing to soothe your climbing agitation.

Why all of a sudden he wants to celebrate it someplace else when you two already have perfectly decorated apartment?

Jesus Christ, you are out here gift shopping!

It takes you entirely three long minutes of typing and deleting the message before you finally send “don’t think I can. But u have fun”.

Your phone pings with a new incoming message so quickly it almost feels like Simon is sitting on the other end, staring down your chat with him, waiting for a response.

“Are u sure, luv? Soap says it will be fun. His family will be there. They are nice”

Fuck no. You don’t do family gatherings. Especially not with strangers and from what you thought you knew — neither does Simon. Too many people that try to touch you, too many sounds, just too warm.

But your eyes zero on the “Soap” and you feel something ugly inside of you raising its head, crack of its vertebras feeling like uncoiling blizzard inside of you.

Who is “Soap” and why is he standing between your usual Christmas plans with Simon?

You force your anger down so hard it almost makes you wince, molars aching from how tight your jaws are.

It’s fine. It’s nothing. Simon doesn’t owe you anything, you aren’t a couple after all. Not like you spent the last shit ton of Christmases together.

Not like it was important for you to have it done with him of all people.

So you type out short “absolutely. Yk I don’t like crowds. Have fun out there and pass Soap “merry Christmas” from me” which is much longer and much more cordial than you expected from yourself in the heat of a moment.

Especially when the most prominent thought was “tell Soap to go fuck himself and come home, you big bastard, I spent three hours in the bloody mall”.

Good job, now you can get going. After all, there is shopping to be done and Christmas menu to be redone.

If Simon is not coming you are gonna gorge yourself on ginger cookies and have fun.

You are a big girl, you don’t need Simon Riley and his stupid blond lashes.

You don’t need anyone.

[peachesofteal]

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck. 

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great. 

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive. 

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

[gamblersdoll]

perv kirishima, fluff to semi smut, massaging with oil :3

“cmon, baby,” kirishima was on you like a hound, behind and hands on your waist.. mouth on your neck. “yer so tense and mean to big ole’ me.”

“because you act like a goddamn mutt.” you were almost like katsuki, cold and hard when it came to certain things. “get off—“ you grit your teeth, but he chuckles in your ear. “what do you have planned?”

“i can feel all the knots in your back, baby.” he acts surprised, but how can he.. look at you. “do you not massage yourself or relax?” he asks, kneading his knuckles into your shoulder— eliciting a groan from you. “oh yeah, you dont ever relax..”

“im fine, riri.” you mumble.

he shakes his head, pushing you towards the bed. “uh uh, let me make you feel good, kay?” he asks, and he can see the disapproval in your eyes. “pleeassssee?” you sigh and nod, pulling your arms up and feeling your clothes be stolen from you.

“dont get any funny ideas, dog.” you roll your eyes, laying onto your stomach.

he snickers, moving first to your shoulders and digging into the dips, hearing your moans when he hits a spot good. hes slow with it, moving to your shoulder blades and he coos. “fuck, you carry stress here.” he giggles at your grunt, the knot of it going away as he moves to the line of your back to dig and slide his thumbs into your back— hearing several pops and cracks. “you gotta stop slouching, babygirl.” he reminds, watching your back relax. “thats why you get so much problems.”

“uh huh..” you moan, ignoring his tantrum of his.

he finally got to your lower back and the start of your ass, pressing his thumbs down and hearing cracks. “carry alot of stress back here, too.” he kisses the round of your ass, feeling the goosebumps raise against your skin. did he forget to tell you about the massage oil that was warming up and a muscle relaxer? you started to relax, the hardness of your heart going soft.

“kiri..” you mumble, feeling his hands massage your rear in circles.

“hm?” he grunts, squeezing the flesh.

“feels good..”

“yeah? want me to keep going?” he asks, moving to the back of your thighs. he sees your nod, him going back up and pressing kisses along your ass. “so pretty when yer bein’ good.” he jiggles and grips it, spreading you open just a bit to press a kiss to your slit.

“hey.. easy..” you mumble, pressing your hand against his head.

“seems like your body knows what it wants.” he kissed your palm, staring at you over your ass. he winks with his left eye, his tongue poking out for a moment to alert you. “i wont do anything you dont want..” he grins, licking from your slit to your neck and kisses you.

he tastes like peaches.

“did— did you just kiss me with oil lips?” you groan, too relaxed and almost tired.

“its edible.” he argues back, sitting on your legs to work into your shoulders. “now hush it so i can be a man and make his woman feel good.”

[direpunk]

gradient maps and color balance are like my beautiful twink and bear lovers

[konigsblog]

Giving Loser!König a handjob + blowjob. (🌽 link)

König is aroused by the size difference and the attention he receives from you. He finds it amusing that you struggle to wrap your fingers around the shaft of his girthy, lengthy cock. König's pale cheeks flush a rosy red at your surprised reaction, embarrassed by the way his hefty, hung cock springs from his boxers, almost too excited and thrilled to be in this position.

He looks away, averting his gaze from you as he shifts in his seat impatiently, waiting to feel your soothing, calming touch against his twitching, aching cock. König would be ashamed to admit that he's never felt the touch of a woman before, that they glare at him, judging him for his creepy and pushy behaviour and entitled attitude. But regardless, it's pretty obvious by his lack of experience, how he distances himself or obsesses over his new crush, and how he struggles to maintain a conversation with you without becoming perverted.

König's cock is incredibly large, and that's not an exaggeration. His slick, bulbous dick aches and twitches at your mesmerising touch. He's never received a handjob from another woman. Usually, his day consists of getting himself off for hours, until he's barely conscious and heaving like a filthy, dirty mutt in heat. He takes in a sharp breath and shudders, his eyes widening as you spit a glob of pearly saliva onto his weeping, drooling boner.

How can he hold it together when he has a pretty woman sucking him off, fawning over the ridiculously large size of his stiff, sweaty cock? König would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the attention. Your compliments feed directly into his ego, and the addictive and hypnotising sensation of your fingers barely wrapped around his base and your warm, soft lips against his creamy tip leaves König delirious, barely able to mumble or string together a coherent sentence through ecstasy and pleasure.

[littlelamy]

𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

author's note: since i just graduated yesterday with my BS in psych (thank God it’s over!) i got inspired to write a short fic of rafe going to his girlfriend's college graduation!

The crowd is massive, a sea of proud families, flashing cameras, and students clad in caps and gowns. You scan the rows of chairs, barely listening as the ceremony unfolds. The dean’s speech drones on, and your thoughts wander. You’re not even sure if he came.

Rafe isn’t the type to sit through hours of pomp and circumstance. He hates crowds, hates sitting still, and formal events? Definitely not his thing. You wouldn’t blame him if he decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. But deep down, a part of you hopes—prays—that he’s here anyway.

As the rows ahead of you begin to move, the pit in your stomach grows heavier. Maybe you were expecting too much. Rafe has always shown he cares in his own way—through late-night drives, quiet reassurances, or the way his hands always find yours without thinking. But maybe this was asking for more than he could give.

Then you see him.

He’s standing off to the side, leaning casually against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a suit—dark and perfectly tailored, the kind of thing you only ever see him wear when Ward insists. His hair is slicked back, strands catching the sunlight in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

He looks good. Like, obscenely good.

But it’s his eyes that catch you—the way they find yours in an instant, piercing and steady, like he’s been looking for you this whole time.

When your name is called, you walk across the stage with shaky steps, trying to keep your composure. You’ve practiced this moment in your head a hundred times, imagined it down to every step and smile. But now, all you can think about is the boy standing off to the side, clapping louder than anyone else.

By the time the ceremony ends, the lawn is a chaotic mess of hugs, cheers, and cameras. Your family is pulling you in every direction—your mom fussing over your hair, your dad insisting on more pictures. You’re swept up in it all, but your focus drifts.

Rafe’s still there, leaning against his truck now. His sunglasses are perched on his nose, but you can feel his gaze, even from here.

You barely wait for an opening, mumbling something about needing a breather before weaving through the crowd toward him.

“Took you fucking long enough,” he drawls as you approach, his voice low and warm. His lips curve into a smirk, but his eyes are soft in that way that always makes your chest ache.

“You actually came,” you say, breathless, still a little stunned.

“Of course I came,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He steps closer, his hands finding your waist as his gaze drags over you. “What kind of boyfriend skips his girl’s big day?”

“You hate crowds,” you point out, arching a brow.

“I hate a lot of shit,” he counters, leaning in slightly. “Doesn’t mean I’ll miss out on seeing you like this.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks betrays you. “Like what?”

“Like a fucking dream,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower as his thumb brushes against the fabric of your gown. “You should wear this more often. Or nothing at all. I’m flexible.”

“Rafe,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one overhears.

“What?” His grin widens, shameless as ever. “I’m just saying, you’re distracting.”

Before you can respond, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Speaking of,” he says, holding it up. “Smile for me, grad girl.”

“Rafe,” you groan, but he’s already snapping pictures, moving back to get the full view of you in your cap and gown.

“Hold still,” he orders, a teasing edge in his voice. “Need to get every fucking angle. Can’t let you look this sexy and not capture it.”

He steps closer, tilting his head as he snaps another. “Turn around,” he says, his voice dipping in a way that makes you shiver.

You roll your eyes but humor him, spinning slowly.

“Perfect,” he mutters, his eyes lingering in a way that’s anything but innocent. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

When he’s satisfied, he slips his phone back into his pocket and pulls you against him. “Think I’ll frame one of those,” he teases, his lips brushing your temple. “Hang it up in my room. Or maybe keep it in my wallet for when I need a reminder of how lucky I am.”

You laugh, but the sound catches when he leans down, his lips ghosting over yours.

“You’re unreal, you know that?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

Your reply is lost as he kisses you. It starts soft—tentative, almost—but quickly deepens as his hand tangles in your hair. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The world around you fades, the noise of the crowd becoming a distant hum. His lips move against yours with a kind of urgency, like he’s been waiting all day for this. When you part your lips, his tongue brushes yours, and a low growl escapes him, sending a thrill down your spine.

His hands tighten on your waist, sliding lower as he pulls you closer, almost lifting you off the ground. You whimper against his lips, and he chuckles darkly, breaking the kiss just enough to nip at your bottom lip.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Don’t ruin the fucking moment. Let me look at you.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a shaky exhale. His gaze is intense, sweeping over every inch of you like he’s committing it to memory.

Finally, he grins, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist. “C’mon,” he says, tugging you toward his truck. “Your family’s probably looking for you, and I promised myself I’d behave in public. But later…” His voice dips, full of promises that make your cheeks burn. “Later, you’re fucking mine.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

credits: @dollywons for the png!

[machveil]

I’m kinda obsessed with your guard dog Simon x puppy reader😭how does Simon punish reader when he thinks she’s being naughty or not listening to his orders?? 😩

you know what, I’m also obsessed with GuardDog!Simon Riley x Puppy!Reader low-key high-key

CW: slight oral fixation, suggestive

GuardDog!Simon Riley doesn’t dish out punishments too often, he knows puppies get excited sometimes, wander off without batting an eye. when you leave his side he knows, cold gaze always following you, he waits for a moment before tailing after you. he likes to see if you’ll notice that you’ve walked away from him, and when you do he likes seeing you scramble back to his side. if you keep wandering away from him, on purpose or by accident, Simon will slip his arm around your neck. beefy bicep and strong forearm acting like a collar, making sure you stay with him

GuardDog!Simon Riley won’t do anything to embarrass you in public, but he isn’t afraid to lightly reprimand you. if you tease him for too long, a little too much, his chest will rumble - a deep, gravelly warning hum to knock it off. Simon doesn’t give you orders often, he’s more than pleased to follow your commands, but when you ignore his grumbled ‘quit it’? maybe, he thinks, it’s because his little puppy needs attention. he hasn’t been neglecting you, has he? surely not, he’s been by your side this entire trip, he’s kept you tucked against his side as you walked. but giving you a little attention wouldn’t hurt

GuardDog!Simon Riley who leads you to a quiet corner of the mall you’re in - a neglected hallway with benches and a humming vending machine. he’ll sit with his back to the hallway entrance, blocking the view of the outside world from you. just you and your mutt. it’s not a real punishment, he wouldn’t do that to you in the open, but this is good enough for now. “Open.”, voice low, he hums when you pout, seemingly trying to play indifferent. he likes the way your shoulders slope when he gently grabs your chin, thumb resting on your lip, “Open, pup?”. a gentler tone, one that has you breathing a little slower, opening your mouth for him slightly

a little attention, something to get your act together. GuardDog!Simon Riley who pushes his index and middle finger into your mouth, lets you dumbly suck on them while he pets your hair. easy to please, it always makes his heart squeeze when your eyelids droop, lashes fluttering as you melt. he doesn’t care if drool and spit run down his hand, Simon just watches over you - like a good dog should. his pretty little puppy, whining when Simon mumbles ‘release���. but you’re finally listening to him again, pulling off his fingers with spit slick lips. it always works in his favor, having you relaxed and little dumb. it makes it easier for him to keep you by his side, or walking in front of him to hide the tent in his pants

CW: Fem!Reader, Simon being a little condescending, ‘pup’ and ‘good girl’, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial

GuardDog!Simon Riley who gets you into bed when you get home. he doesn’t want to hurt his precious little pup, spanking you wouldn’t feel right to him. no, Simon bends you over his lap for a different reason. “Can’t protect you if ya keep runnin’ off.”, voice low and raspy, he smoothes his hand over your plush ass, tutting when you squirm. just a little training, something to get you to behave next time you go out with Simon. spitting on his fingers, he hums, “Good pups listen, yeah?”. his free hand is running through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as his middle finger dips into your cunt

he’s not being mean, he’s just trying to help you! good girls who listen get to come. he shushes you when you whine and moan a little too loud, presses your face against his sheets as he bullies his index finger into your heat, “I know, feels so good.”. it makes your brain melt, eyes screw shut - how softly he pets your hair and murmurs to you, how his fingers blur a bit from how fast he’s pumping into you. on the verge of sweet bliss when he pulls his hand away, sends you spiraling with a cry, “No.”. a low, rumbled command. he knows you’re smart, can do a trick for him, “Count.”

every time he denies you, you sob out another number - starting over when you lose track. thighs a slick mess as he abuses your poor cunt, stopping short of you orgasm for the umpteenth time, “Good, bein’ so pretty f’me. How many was tha’, pup?”. and when you finally blubber out ‘ten’ - even though that’s not a completely accurate count after hours of messing up - he feels pride warm his chest. “Good girl, can my dumb puppy beg?”, he can’t help the way his cock chubs up, achingly hard when you plead with him. a good guard dog makes sure you’re safe and sound, so Simon holds you close as he fucks his fingers into you, thumbing at your clit as you’re finally allowed release, “Don’t go runnin’ off again, got it?”

[athenamikaelson]

A/N- finn is hot- don't try to fight me on this

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 25

Word Count- 3.2k

Warnings- mentions of STDS, sex, condoms, bananas, THEO, decapitation, Kardashians

“Why are you smiling like that?” I finish applying the lipstick Rebekah sent me as an apology gift for attacking Elena, and glance over to Theo leaning against the doorframe.

“I just had a good dream,” I mumble as I stand up from my desk and grab my jacket.

Theo hums.

“So it has nothing to do with you letting that mutt slobber all over you last night…or his brother coming over right after and spending the night with you… I must say sister, juggling two bitches,” Theo wipes away a fake tear, “I’m so proud of you.”

I whip around and glare at him, “Theodore Monty Y/l/n, watch it!”

Theo smirks at me and raises his hands. 

“All I’m saying is that like 3 weeks ago the only side piece you had on your arm was Elena, and now you’ve got two brothers. Upgrades sister, hell ya!”

Theo throws out his palm for me to high-five. I don’t. Instead, I walk around him and down the hallway to the front door. 

Theo continues to speak.

“Now I know you’ve had zero playtime soooo I think we should chat about this. For example, we should have the talk.”

I freeze. 

“Theo, I will smother you in your sleep if you continue to talk.”

“Y/n, I don’t like children, I don’t want any nieces or nephews running around.”

I glare over my shoulder at him, “They’re vampires, you dimwit. They can’t have kids.”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before nodding, “Okay. Well, what about STDs? What if there are vampire STDs you could catch? One look at that mutt from last night and I bet he’s got something you can catch other than fleas.”

I feel my face drop as Theo continues to mutter things to himself about vampire sexually transmitted diseases. 

I shake my head, open the front door, and leave the house, hearing Theo call from behind me. 

“Fine run! But don’t think for a second young lady that we won’t be discussing things later! And trust next time I see either one of those fools I will be asking them about Vamp STDs!”

At that exact moment, our 82-year-old neighbor Shelley, exits her house. I’m pretty sure her look of pure shock and horror mirrors mine. 

“Oh hi Mrs. Davenport,” Theo yells happily.

—

“Hey Bonnie, how are you?”

The phone line is silent for a moment as I hear Bonnie closing a door.

“I’m fine…I guess. My mom’s going to finish her transition,” Bonnie’s sad voice makes me frown as I stare at the red light in front of me. 

“I’m sorry, Bonnie,” I think back to last night and try to shake away the image of Esther’s decapitated head from my head, “If I would’ve known your mother…”

“Don’t apoligize, Y/n. It’s not your fault. And ya… it sucks she has to become a vampire but…it beats losing you or Elena. And I swear, Y/n, as soon as Damon told me that if the originals died, you would die with them, I tried stopping the spell. I would have never done it in the first place if I knew you’d die too.”

Bonnie’s earnest voice makes me smile, “I trust you, Bon. And thank you.”

I hear someone say something to Bonnie and she sighs, “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s ok, Bonnie. We’ll talk soon. Give yourself some time with your mother before coming back to this mess over here. You deserve it.”

“Okay, thank you. And when I get back we’ll find a way to get you out of that soul bond mess and away from the Mikaelsons.”

“Uh, ya, ok. Bye, Bonnie.”

I end the call and pull into the Grill’s parking lot. As I step out of my car, cross the street, and enter the grill, one thought won’t leave my head.

“What if I don’t want to break the bond?”

—

“Y/n?”

I stop walking and smile when my eyes meet Finn’s brown ones.

“Hey, Finn,” I slide into the seat in the booth across from him and can’t help but smile at the obvious discomfort he has plastered on his face.

“You look…”

“Uncomfortable…yes I know. A lot of things have changed since I was last part of civilization,” Finn fiddles with the ring on his middle finger and it reminds me of the anxious tic I do quite often. 

“We could’ve met somewhere else. I know that being in big crowds like this unsettles me too,” I smile softly at him. 

Finn eyes a group of passersby wearily but still shakes his head, “No…I’m alright. If I’m going to be a part of this world I’ve got to learn to live with these things.”

I nod, “Okay. So, why exactly did you have Rebekah call me to meet you here?” Finn turns his attention away from a drunk woman who seems to be having the time of her life, “You said you’d help me find my Rose.”

Oh…ya I did. 

I cringe slightly, “So here’s the thing Finn,” I’m about to tell Finn that there is no way in hell Bonnie would agree to bring another old ass vampire to Mystic Falls after what just went down, but as I look at the helpless expression on Finn’s face and the loneliness in his eyes, something in my breaks, “My witch is currently out of town for a family thing,” Finn’s shoulders sag and his face drops, “But, she said she’d be happy to help as soon as she gets back.”

Finn eyes me for a moment before a soft smile on his face appears, “I’ve waited 900 years for her…a little longer will be fine. Thank you for helping me, Y/n, I know you don’t have to but…”

“Finn we’re friends, that’s what friends do,” I say simply and Finn frowns. 

“Friends?”

The way he says the word aloud is as if he’s never heard it before.

“I mean you don’t have to be my friend, I was just-”

“I would like it,” Finn interrupts me, “It’s just that I’ve never really…had one before.”

His words bring back memories of me crying in my room, wondering why no one ever wanted to be around me and it makes me realize just how much me and this 1,000-year-old man have in common. 

“Well, I just got my first friend like 3 months ago, so I’m pretty new to this whole friend thing too.”

Finn frowns, “I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

I shrug, “I’m peculiar, remember?”

Finn’s upper lip twitches, “That we are.”

—

“Wait… so Kim is the oldest?”

I groan at Finn’s words, “Finnias, no! We’ve been over this Kourtney is the oldest! Kim is the one dating Kanye.”

Finn nods thoughtfully, “And we don’t like Kanye?”

I shake my head, “No because he was mean to Taylor Swift.”

I watch as the wheels turn in Finn’s head as he continues to piece together all the information on pop culture I’ve given him in the past hour. 

“Alright, I think I’m understanding. Actually…remind me again who Hannah Montana is?”

“Well, don’t you two look comfy together!”

I roll my eyes as I turn to see Demon Salvawhore smirking down at Finnias and I.

“What do you want, Demon?”

“I thought his name was Damon,” Finn questions me with a confused look.

“It is, but I still haven’t seen him and Lucifer in the same place at once so I call him Demon.”

Finn nods but looks down at his hands with a confused look.

“I just saw you two here chatting it up so I thought I might come say hi.”

“Well, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. So feel free to take your leave,” I glare at him.

“It’s alright, Y/n,” Finn says and I turn to see him getting out of the booth, “I should probably get back to make sure my siblings are still alright. But…thank you, for today and helping me.”

I smile up at Finn, “Anytime, Finnieas. And I’ll talk to Klaus about buying you that phone so I can show you how to text.”

Finn nods his head, smiling, and then walks away.

My smile falls as I glance back to Demon.

“What do you want?” “Why are you avoiding me?”

I blink slowly at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damon gives me an “Are you serious” look.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Pukey. I’ve tried calling you all night last night and all this morning. Only to find you here with yet another original.”

I stand up and glare at him, “Finn is my friend.”

“Ya? Just like Elijah and Klaus are right?”

This bitch.

“I’m not doing this with you right now, Damon. Leave me alone.”

I turn and walk away but Damon’s hand grabs my upper arm.

“Y/n, stop.”

“Is there a problem here, Y/n?”

I turn to my right to find Rebekah at my side, glaring at Damon.

“No, Rebekah. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rebekah smiles at me but doesn’t move. 

Damon drops my arm but doesn’t leave, “Why are you mad at me?”

It’s my turn to give him an “Are you serious” look, “Really Damon?! You almost killed the Mikaelson yesterday, which almost killed me, and then you actually did kill Bonnie’s mom who is now turning into a vampire?!”

Damon rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to slap him.

“Bonnie’s mom needed to die,” He says simply and I glare at him.

“And why was that?”

Damon doesn’t blink, “Because it came down to you or her,” His voice comes out strong, “And I’d pretty much kill everyone in this town if it meant my best friend stayed alive.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m going to cry.

“Oh…”

Damon tilts his head, annoyed,  “That’s all you have to say. Oh?”

The next thing I know I’m throwing my arms around him. 

Damon doesn’t move for a moment, but after a few seconds his arms wrap around me and he pats my head awkwardly, “Ya, okay, Pukey. Love you too.”

I let go of Damon and fight back tears in my eyes. Damon rolls his eyes and fies his jacket trying to act tough. 

“You’re too emotional,” He says nonchalantly.

I punch him in the arm, “You just called me your best friend. Not takebacks, Demon.”

Damon rolls his eyes dramatically, “Ya whatever, Pukey.”

He reaches out a hand and messes up my hair before turning around and walking away, not before I spot the small smile on his face.

“You guys are odd.”

Rebekah’s British accent makes me remember she’s standing beside me. 

“Ya, kind of.”

Rebekah rolls her blue eyes and a wave of jealousy flows through me. How is it that someone can be this pretty?! 

“So…Elijah didn’t come back until early this morning,” Rebekah’s lips morph into a smirk, “Do you know anything about that?”

I feel my face heat up, “Um…nope.”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure? Because the smile that was plastered on his face all this morning says otherwise.”

I furrow my brows, “What does him smiling have to do with me?”

Rebekah gives me an “Are you serious” look, guess it’s common today, “Maybe because the only time my older brother smiles is when he’s around you…And he was really smiling this morning.” 

At her tone I freeze, “Wait…do you think that we…” I move my hands around, “Y’know…”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow at me, “Well, didn’t you?”

I shake my head viciously, “No! All we did was kiss and then he watched Coraline with me until I went to sleep!”

Rebekah’s face falls, “Seriously? You’ve got my older brother all giddy after one kiss.”

I shrug, “I doubt he was “giddy”.

Rebekah nods her head, “Oh trust me, he was practically singing when he was making his morning coffee. 

I snort out a laugh at her words and try to imagine Elijah singing. 

“I like seeing him that way…happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of my siblings like that.”

At her solemn voice, I frown, “How are you doing? After everything…”

Rebekah shrugs, “I’m fine. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

Her dismissal has me frowning deeper, “Bekah, you’re mother died. I know that she tried to kill you but it doesn’t change the fact that she was still your mother.”

Rebekah looks at me but her face doesn’t betray how she’s really feeling, “I’m fine, Y/n. Finn was the mummy’s boy. I don’t give a damn about that woman.”

I nod but still don’t believe her, “Well if you ever do need to talk to someone. You can always call me.”

Rebekah eyes me for a moment skeptically, then nods, “I won’t need to but…thanks. I guess,” Her attention strays for a moment, “There is someone I need to go talk to. Goodbye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Rebekah.”

—

I pull into my driveway but feel a frown come over my face as I notice an unfamiliar expensive-looking black car in my usual parking spot.

I park beside it and hurry into the house, worrying about Theo.

“Theo! Are you okay-”

“So, both of you have your bananas, and these right here are condoms,” I turn the corner and my jaw drops as I see Theo holding up a banana and a Trojan condom. An unfamiliar sound comes out of my mouth when I look at the two figures sitting on the couch before him with bananas in their hands and annoyed looks on their faces. Klaus and Elijah. 

“Theo what the hell are you doing?!?”

My yell of utter horror catches the three men’s attention.

“Oh, goody! Sister, I’m glad you’re here,” Theo drops his banana on the coffee table before Klaus and Elijah, a table that is covered in condoms and STD pamphlets, “After our little talk this morning I got to thinking and decided that if you and I aren’t going to talk about the elephants in the room, I’d just call up your boyfriends and have that chat with them myself.”

I stare wide-eyed at Elijah and Klaus, “And you both agreed to this?!?”

Elijah releases a deep sigh and Klaus glares at my little brother, “Your infant here called us and said we had to get over here because you were in danger.”

Theo raises his hands, “YES! In danger of catching a vampire STD.”

“Theo! Those don’t exist,” I screech at him.

“That’s exactly what we’ve tried to explain to him for the past 30 minutes, Elskan. For some reason, it isn’t sticking,” Elijah raises his head and shoots a dirty look at my brother. 

“Thirty minutes!? You’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes letting my 16-year-old brother have the sex talk with you!?”

“Well, 15 of those minutes were filled with threats,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at him, “I thought I told you to stop threatening my brother.”

Klaus turns his glare onto me and raises his hands in exhaustion, “The threats were from him, Love! And they were quite imaginative.”

“Thank you, I’ve been working on them for a while now,” Theo smirks at Klaus, and the hybrid growls at him. 

“Niklaus, please,” Elijah sighs.

Theo turns his attention back onto me, “Well now that you’re here,” He drags me over to a chair and pushes me down into, “I can finally give you the talk.”

“What talk,” Elijah asks confused.

Theo looks at him like he’s stupid, “The sex talk, dumbass. Since you,” He points to Elijah, “Like to spend the night in my sister’s bed without asking me permission. And you,” He points to Klaus, “Like to slobber all over her like the dog you are. I thought it would be a good idea to have this discussion before things move further. Now gentleman pick your bananas back up.”

“Theo! NO!”

Theo ignores me and smiles at Klaus and Elijah, who haven’t moved.

“One more dog joke out of you, Theodora and I swear I’ll-”

“Niklaus!”

Elijah and Klaus eye each other and Theo just stands there tapping his shoe on the hardwood floor. 

“Theo go to your room, right now,” I stand up and glare at him, “We are not having this discussion right now…or ever!”

“But the vampire STDS!”

“Theodore there are no such things as vampire STDS! GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

My yelling has all three men looking at me wearily. 

Theo raises his hands in surrender, “Ok, fine. Just trying to help.”

“And leave the condom here!”

Theo halts and turns back to the table and Klaus, Elijah, and I watch as Theo empties maybe 30 condoms from his jeans. 

“Bloody hell,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at Theo as he skips out of the living room and down the hall to his room. As soon as I hear his door close I run a hand over my face.

“Elskan-”

I raise a hand stopping Elijah before he can continue. 

“Nope. Whatever you’re going to say…just nope.” 

“Well, I’m never going to look at a banana the same way,” Klaus’ says sarcastically and I’m silent for a moment before a loud laugh escapes my mouth.  

I move my hands from my face and find Klaus smirking at me, and Elijah smiling softly at me with a bright look in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you both just leave,” I asked incredulously, “You two are the strongest and oldest creatures alive, and yet you stayed to have a teenage boy teach you how condoms work?!”

Klaus and Elijah side-eye each other. 

Elijah stands from his seat and fixes his suit jacket, “When we heard that you were in danger we hurried over here as fast as we could…but when we came inside and found this,” He gestures to the table of condoms and bananas, “We were going to leave.”

“And then Theodora locked the door behind us and told us that if we didn’t sit down and shut up he’d never give us his approval. And then said that we can bet our asses that if we don’t have his approval, you’d never speak to us again. I of course told him to go to hell but my brother here sat down like the good boy he is,” Klaus says and rolls his eyes.

“And yet you’re still here,” Elijah mutters. 

“So let me get this straight,” I look to both of them, “You endured Theo’s company for 30 minutes, just because you want his approval?!”

“If his approval means you accepting us…then of course we did.”

Klaus mutters something about Theo and daggers, but I ignore him. 

“You really care that much?”

Klaus and Elijah both give me “Are you serious” looks. 

“Love, I thought we made our thoughts about you quite known,” Klaus says as he stands, “We want you. Even if that means you come with a less than exceptional little brother as baggage.”

I snort at Klaus’ words and Elijah walks across the table and over to me, “There is nothing in this world I desire more than your company and happiness, Y/n. Please believe me when I say that.”

I feel my face heat up at the attention of the two men and I nod.

“I believe you.”

“Great,” Klaus says then pauses, “Also…I was just wondering what exactly was discussed by you and Theodora to warrant all of this,” He gestures to the table with a smirk. 

Oh fuck.

[planet-dusk]

☆ making bad decisions for you ∘ b.c

chan fucked up, and now he's left to deal with the consequences. how does one find someone to help their sweet pup through her heat on such short notice? the first step: call jisung. the second step: stay on the straight path. he has this under control. at least that's what chan thinks, until you throw him a curve...

─── ☆ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

─── ☆ length: 2.3k

─── ☆ warnings: puppy hybrid!reader, sub!reader, perv!chan, big dick chan, pillow humping, corruption, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding (like a lot), dirty talk, praise, pet names: baby, pup, puppy

─── ☆ note: 18+ minors dni. the characters don’t represent real idols; this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. fictional smut is not a reflection of real life ! always communicate with your partner and practice consensual and safe sex ‹33

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

Chan’s in over his head.

He knew this day would come. He should’ve been prepared. But he’s been so busy lately, and he didn’t keep track of your cycle — fuck, if only he could physically beat himself up for being the world’s shittiest owner. 

And of course he can’t find the informational flyers anywhere, and he doesn’t trust the internet, the advice varying so wildly he isn’t sure what to believe. He could call the shelter, but he doesn’t want them to find out he messed up. What if they take you away from him? 

So he calls the only experienced person he can think of: Jisung. 

“I really don’t know what to do, Han, fuck! Please help…”

“Take a deep breath, it’ll be alright. It’s not your fault there’s a suppressant shortage. You sure you don’t want to…?” 

“I can’t, it’s… it’s wrong,” Chan feels the panic rising in his chest again. He takes another gulp of air to calm his shaky nerves. 

“Fine, okay, it was just a suggestion! No need to yell at me, lemme look into it. I'll find a stud for her and come over as soon as my shift’s done, okay? You try to stay calm in the meantime and do exactly as I've told you to. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry, it’s - I’m a mess, I should’ve seen it coming, but thank you, Ji. Thank you. I owe you one.”

“No worries, bro. Good luck. Call me if you need any help.”

The call disconnects and Chan is left standing alone in the empty bathroom, his heart galloping in his chest. He failed you. But he needs to be there for you now. He's not proud of what he’s about to do, but you’ll understand. He has no other choice. When this is all over you’ll understand. Please, you have to…

“Please forgive me, Y/N,” he whispers and unlocks the door.

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom Chan’s thrown off balance by your body slamming into his. “Channie, sir, please,” you whimper, pressing yourself tighter against his side and wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan feels a blush rise to his cheeks and turns his head away, swallowing harshly. 

“Let’s go to your bedroom, pup.” 

You yelp excitedly and dart off, throwing yourself on the bed. Your tail wags against the sheets and Chan can’t help but smile. When he was a little kid he always thought he’d get a wolfdog hybrid, or a big husky, but then he saw you at the shelter: a little cream coloured mutt with soft ears and a fluffy tail, and he knew he had to bring you home. 

You’re watching him rummage through his nightstand, head cocked and ears pointed. “‘t hurts, Channie, please hurry,” you roll on your back and stay there, skirt sliding down your thighs and almost exposing your panties. Chan coughs. 

“I know, baby, Channie’s here to make it all better,” he mumbles and fishes a pair of padded handcuffs out of the drawer. “Just give me your hands, okay?”

You give him a puzzled look but comply, letting him attach the cuffs to the headboard. “I'm so sorry, puppy, I'm sorry,” he whispers, avoiding your eyes. 

Then he turns around and hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft but resolute thud. 

Your frustrated howls are loud enough to reach the living room and he flinches. Every noise you make pierces his soul and adds to the pool of guilt in his gut. He had to do it, Jisung told him so — keep her safe, tie her up somewhere, otherwise she might hurt herself. It’s for her best interest. 

Chan knows, but why does it hurt him so much? He checks his phone, looking for a distraction. Two hours left until Jisung’s shift is done. Surely he can find a stud before the end of the day, right? Jisung knows so many people. He said everything would be fine. Chan just has to relax and trust him.

He takes another deep breath and turns on the tv, mindlessly going through the channels. He checks his phone again. 5 minutes have passed. Time’s never felt this slow. 

Eventually he settles on a documentary about tiger hybrids. He almost succeeds in focusing on the (terrible but entertaining) storyline when he notices your howls have changed into softer, breathier sounds. They almost sound like… moans? Chan thinks. He feels his cock stir. He shifts on the couch and stares at the tv, but the screen is a blur and he doesn’t hear a word the voiceover says. 

The noises continue and Chan grows more restless. How…? He looks at his phone again. 90 minutes left. 

With growing curiosity, Chan’s feet lead him to your bedroom almost involuntarily. Your noises have grown softer, little moans and whimpers drifting through the door. With a quiet click he opens it and peeks his head around.

You’re sitting on the bed, awkwardly positioned with your hands still chained to the headboard. Somehow you’ve managed to maneuver one of the pillows between your spread knees. You’re grinding down on it, fluffy tail causing your skirt to ride up. From his position in the doorframe Chan catches a glimpse of your white panties hugging your ass. 

The noises you’re making range from whiny to plain frustrated, the friction not enough to satisfy you. When you bend over to try and find a better position, Chan sucks in a breath, cock swelling at the sight of your soaked panties. You’re so wet the gusset has become almost see through, clinging to the outline of your pussy. 

Chan shouldn’t be here. He should leave before you notice him, before it’s too late. He should go back to the living room, put on his headphones and wait for Jisung to arrive. Let him sort it out. Get you a handsome dog hybrid to help you through your heat. 

“Chan?” your voice is soft, halting his train of thought. “Please…” 

He’s not sure if it’s your broken plea or something else that compels him to move, but Chan steps into your room. Your tail starts to wag slowly and you drop to your elbows, presenting yourself to him. From this distance Chan can see the tantalizing curve where your thighs meet your ass, the spot he wants to lick and suck and tease…

“‘s okay, puppy, Channie’s here.” There’s still time to leave. But you’re looking back at him with your pretty eyes — how could he say no to his sweet pup? He wants to protect you. Keep you safe. Jisung and his stud be damned. 

“I’m so sorry I did this to you, Y/N. I panicked.”

His hand strokes your thigh and you sigh into his touch. “Don’t leave me again, Channie. Promise.”

Chan shakes his head. “It was a mistake, I promise, I’m here with you now pup. Let me help you.” 

You mewl when his fingers graze your clothed slit. “Sir, ‘s hurting, don’t make me wait any longer, need you to breed me now, please,” you trail off, grinding back against his hand. 

Normally Chan would take his time to explore your body, tease you until you’ve cum at least twice before he’d give you his cock. But he hears the urgency in your voice, your pained little whimpers as you tug at your restraints. 

And it’d be a lie to say he hasn’t fantasized about this before. Late at night in his own bedroom while he tried to muffle his moans, unsure of what your sensitive ears could pick up. 

Chan slides your panties down your thighs with shaky hands. Your pretty cunt’s all puffy and glossy with your slick and it drips down his fingers when he pushes two inside. 

Your reaction is instantaneous, a pleasant gasp as you arch your back for him. “Need more, need your cock, need it now,” you plead again. 

“You sure you can take it, puppy?”

Chan rolls his plush bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t want to hurt you. 

“‘Mmm don’t care, make it fit,” you pout and wag your tail for him, “Channie.”

He’ll never tire of hearing his name like this. A broken sound, filled with so much need it goes straight to his head. 

He chucks off his pants and his boxers, hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen. He slides the tip over your slit to wet it, holding your hips to keep you still. Then he sheathes himself in your dripping heat inch by inch, whispering soft praises into the air between you. 

“Just like that, puppy, don’t move. Gonna fill you up so good baby, let me take care of you.”

Chan knows he’s big, watches your pretty hole stretch to accommodate him. He groans at how wet and warm you feel. It’s even better than he imagined. When you shift forward on your knees he growls, “Where do you think you’re going, pup? I'm not even halfway in yet.”

He pushes in deeper, watches you arch your back even more. “Channie, so full,” you pant when he finally bottoms out, stilling for a moment to catch his breath. The sensation of your soft, velvety cunt around him is overwhelming all his senses. 

“Yeah? Is my puppy nice and full?”

“Wanted - wanted this for so long,” you say and his heart makes a little leap. He knows it’s just your heat-clouded mind talking, the hormones making you more susceptible to his presence. But there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re speaking the truth. 

“Yah - wanted my sir, my Channie,” you nod when he starts moving, holding tight onto the handcuff’s chain. He briefly considers removing them, but you don’t seem to mind being tied up like this, pushing back on his cock like the neediest little thing he’s ever seen.

My Channie.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he groans and you hum at the sound of your name. “Can’t stay away from you - my pretty baby… knew it from the day I brought you home.”

You’re moaning every time his hips meet yours, soft uh-uh-uh’s like music to his ears. Your pussy is gushing around his length, and Chan’s not sure how long he’s going to last if you keep clenching down on him like this.

“Fuck, puppy - you’re hugging my cock so tight,” he lands a playful smack on your ass, “want me to breed you that bad, huh? Want me to stuff you full with pups?”

He tilts your hips to reach even deeper, fat cock slamming into you with force. You’re slumping against the mattress and he hovers over your back to nip at your ear, eliciting another moan from you. The soft fur of your tail tickles his abs but Chan is too focused on the erratic pulsing of your walls around him. 

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? I can feel you’re close, just let go. I’ve got you. Channie’s got you. My good girl.”

You sob and he feels your release gush around him, fucking you through your high with renewed vigor. You’re a blabbering mess, unable to form words except for “Channie,” “please,” and “fuck.” 

“Did my puppy lose her tongue?” He grins. “Getting all dumb on my cock after one orgasm, and I haven’t even bred you yet, baby.”

“Please…need it,” you whisper into the sheets, “need you to cum inside, please, sir.”

Even with his weight pressing you into the bed you’re still angling your hips up more, and Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. You smell so good, like vanilla and the heady scent of sex. “I always keep my promise, pup, I’m going to breed you so well you’ll feel it dripping out of you for the next three days.”

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes so glossy and fucked-out Chan loses all composure. He ruts into you one, two more times before ropes of thick cum paint your inner walls and tumble you headfirst into another orgasm. 

His thighs are shaking, your cunt milking him of every last drop until he’s a panting mess on top of you. For a moment the two of you lay still, breathing heavily, until Chan realizes you’re still chained to the bed. He pulls out and you mumble something when you feel his cum drip out of you, rubbing your thighs together. 

Chan unclasps the handcuffs and kisses your wrists, hugs you close and captures your lips with his own. They’re so soft, needy little sounds already escaping you again as you rut against his thigh. “Need more, Channie.” 

“Insatiable little thing,” he grins and traces your puffy cunt with his fingers. “Can’t get enough, can you?” 

He slips one finger in your sensitive hole just as the doorbell rings. You look up in surprise, eyes wide and ears darting in all directions. 

Chan kisses you again. “Ignore the bell, pup. I’m not going anywhere. Made a promise, remember? Need to breed you nice and round. Maybe make you beg a little more for it,” he chuckles, “let me see how needy you can really get.” 

You’re grinding down on his thigh now and Chan doesn’t care how long he has to stay here with you, he’ll give you whatever you want. He’ll spend days holed up inside your nest if he has to. 

You grab his shirt and pull him closer, and the blaring sound of his ringtone rips him out of his reverie. 

He rolls over with a groan and hits the green button, cutting off Jisung’s voice. “It’s already taken care of, Ji. Thank you.”

“Wha —? You sly dog!”

Chan throws his phone into a corner and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your thighs with a smile. “Don’t worry, pup. I won’t let anyone else touch you ever again.”

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[ervotica]

𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞. [𝐟.𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you think finnick’s in danger, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect him. or, that time the mutts impersonated your fiancé and you lost your shit.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: canon level violence, finnick is cute, reader is traumatised and also crying. overall not my best writing but it’s something.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: apologies for my absence guys, life has been kicking me in the ass of late. here’s an apology fic, i know it sucks i am very rusty in the writing department. love ya🫶

Finnick has been gone for ten minutes when the birds start circling; he’s disappeared into the trees, aimlessly digging when the sounds of flapping wings and voices hit the group’s poised ears.

You’re stumbling into the undergrowth at the first threat of danger, the breath quick to steal from your lungs as his voice rings in your ears.

“Y/N? Where are you? Help me!” Finnick’s voice calls, low and pained and drawn out terribly. Every sensible explanation dies, shrivels up and blackens in your head and you’re running towards the sound, swatting leaves and fallen branches out of the way.

“Finnick!” you shriek. “Finnick!”

Your heartbeat thumps in your own head, blood rushing and pounding when you trip and stumble your way further into the trees.

Peeta and Johanna are behind you, their grappling hands doing little to stop you on your rampage.

“They’re jabberjays, it’s not real!” Peeta tries to coax you down but it’s no use, you’re in a blind panic.

“Finn!” you scream for him again. “Finnick!”

Every awful scenario floods your head at once, of Snow and the Capitol and the torture they could inflict on him. It’s the only way to hurt you, hurting him, and Snow knows that.

Your cheeks are hot and damp with tears as you spin, frantic and wide eyed and desperate to catch a glimpse of Finnick; Johanna seizes you from behind, pushing you down to the ground and holding you there. When you thrash and lift your head, her hand clasps the back of your neck and forces your nose into the damp floor.

“It’s not real!” she growls.

He’s still screaming. Screaming for you. It hurts your ears and grabs your chest with white-hot panic, pure and unrelenting.

By the time the hour’s up, you’re limp, breath ragged and laboured. Johanna manhandles you up until you feel the bark of a tree digging into your back; you hiss and push her away indignantly. You have this far away look in your eyes, glazed and unfocused, only snapping to attention when a pair of footsteps bowl through the trees and crouch next to you.

“Finn,” you whisper, trembling as he wraps thick wired arms around you and pulls you flush to him. His pulse is fast and hard like a drum pressed to your cheek, his chest heaving as you climb him.

“It wasn’t real. I’m fine, we’re fine.”

You gasp and wheeze and clutch at him like he might slip away, a fist in his sandy hair, your shoulder wedged under his armpit. His grip is like iron around your waist and his breath is warm and comforting on the juncture of your shoulder.

“You’re okay,” you mumble, repeating over and over as though you’re trying to convince yourself.

“I’m okay. Look at me,” he demands. His hands are warm. “It wasn’t real.”

“Not real.” You rake fingernails across the nape of his neck, squeezing to keep him close. Your breath is ragged. “We’re fine.”

“There’s my girl.”

[thehandsresisthim]

“headcanon and small drabble: Simon + Johnny as your subs”

contains: smut, dom!fem!reader x sub!Johnny x sub!Simon, femdom, toys (vibrator in soap lol), cbt mentioned ig, not exactly realistic depictions of how a relationship would start but eh it’s more abt the porn isn’t it

word count: ~700

⋆｡♡ ˚ thinkin’ abt Simon and Johnny, who slowly fall for each other, but both of ‘em are subs

⋆｡♡ ˚ at first, Simon thinks that someone as cocksure and impulsive as Johnny would be a good dom, a natural dom, effortlessly dishing out commands

⋆｡♡ ˚ at first, Johnny thinks that Simon must be a dom, with his brooding personality and mask, surely, a guy like Simon would be a stern dom, just what his bratty ass needs

⋆｡♡ ˚ but then they get closer, and slowly start to notice the others subbiness, and come to an understanding, essentially barking commands at each other, but secretly wanting to be ordered around, cocks rutting against each other as the both of them drool, no one in charge of the other, just horny, pathetic messes

⋆｡♡ ˚ enter you: laswell’s new assistant or somethin’, a pretty, confident woman - effortlessly strutting about in your heels, tight blouse showing your figure, ordering the both of them around whenever they interact with lasswell for whatever purpose idk

⋆｡♡ ˚ Simon immediately notices the air of dominance around you, the way you command respect, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the mask to hide his blush as he imagines you pushing him around with your high-heeled feet.

⋆｡♡ ˚ Johnny takes a moment longer to warm up to you, ashamed of his feelings, - he’s together with Simon, for god's sake - but when Simon makes an offhand comment about what a good domme you’d be, he whines and agrees

⋆｡♡ ˚ cue one evening, you’re exhausted from a long day, nothing going as planned, as you walk back to your place, and the both of them stand in front of your door

⋆｡♡ ˚ at first, you almost have a heart attack - being a confident woman working your job, some men take it as a challenge, so you’re immediately worried about them hurting you or something - but not Johnny and Simon. they roughly whine out what they want from you, mumbling about their fantasies, no shame present.

“mmh… bonnie, bet ya’ wouldn’t hesitate to push me ‘round, yeah, but m’ in ma’ place n’ everythin’”

“i’d be good, luv, promise, always doin’ what you want.”

⋆｡♡ ˚ you sigh, absolutely not prepared for these two fools, but reluctantly let them inside, and they immediately get to convincing you to dom ‘em, blabbering out pleas

⋆｡♡ ˚ until you snap your fingers, ordering them to kneel - and they do.

⋆｡♡ ˚ perhaps those two might be worthy servants after all.

Simon glares at the other man. Boyfriend or not, right now, he’s pissed at him.

Johnny isn’t even kneeling properly. When Simon kneels, like right now, he keeps his hands on his thighs, and his head down. Because you’re his Queen, his everything, and Simon would rather die than show you disrespect.

The dumb mutt, however? He’s drooling all over himself, not even sitting properly. Sure, he has a vibrator nestled against his prostate, and you’re controlling the vibrations via an app on your phone, but Simon knows that he could hold still and sit pretty even during such torture.

Johnny’s slurring out begs and whines, twitching and twisting back and forth. “‘s- too much-“ he whimpers, and Simon narrows his eyes further.

He could do way better. But, it’s up to you, in the end - this is another case where he is simply the better choice. Simon always respects your decisions! If he’s not cumming, or cumming again and again, or wearing a humbler and crawling beneath your feet - he listens. Because begging for something else would be to go against his Queen's divine plan.

You reach forward and gently pet Simon’s head. He smiles as he relishes the affection, but his smile broadens as he hears Johnny’s complaints as you increase the vibrations.

“Hah- fuck y-you- ‘s no’ fair!” the Scot whines out as he trembles, obviously struggling with the intense vibrations.

“Do I have to gag you, mutt?” you ask, and he frantically shakes his head. Simon allows himself a full-blown grin.

thank you for reading!! my master list is here ❤️

my bdsm headcanons for soap can be found here 💕

my bdsm headcanons for ghost can be found here 💕