#bashful spaniel

[fourmoony]

Heya I have a request <3 I've been thinking about Remus having a crush on muggle reader because he sees her walking her dog all the time when he's reading in the park or something and sirius stepping up as wingman and running up to her in animagus form forcing pretending to be Remus' dog and forcing him to talk to her

love your blog btw!!! <3

ah, thank you so much lovely! thank you, as well, for requesting - i love this idea! hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

1.3k remus x fem!reader fluff language

masterlist

There's a man running towards you full pelt.

He's waving his arms, an exasperated look on his face as he huffs and puffs, cheeks crimson from exertion and the cool November breeze. You would be concerned about the fact he seems to be running straight in your direction, clearly past caring about how crazy he looks as he ignores the turned heads of other dog walkers, but it takes you maybe two seconds to deduce the dog - Padfoot, if his collar is to be believed - leaning against your hip is his.

Your own dog, Nova, has already made herself comfortable with Padfoot, sitting happily underneath his chest while you scratch the behind of his ears. He's the biggest dog you've ever seen, you think, up to your hip, standing.

Padfoot doesn't seem to be bothered in the least that his owner is clearly so upset by his apparent disappearance, the large black dog only tilting his head to look up at you, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. You can tell he's full of personality and mischief, even if he's only been at your feet for a minute or so.

The man comes to a gradual stop, resting his hands on his knees and bowing his head to catch his breath when he's in front of you. You smile kindly, still scratching the dog's ears. Padfoot isn't complaining. The man looks up, a weak sort of smile about his face and you notice that it pulls a scar above his top lip taught. He has a number of them on his face that you can see. One running across the bridge of his nose, under his right eye, and another along his left jaw. They make him no less beautiful, by any means. He's handsome. Pretty. Gorgeous.

It's actually kind of intimidating.

His hair falls in soft curls across his forehead, where you can see the tail end of another scar cutting through his eyebrow, and it's a dirty, sort of sandy blonde that brings out the hazel in his eyes. He's tall and lanky, and the oversized woollen jumper he's wearing hangs from his frame in a way that suggests it wasn't bought for him. He's staring at his dog with such distain you wonder if this is a regular occurrence.

"You," He looks at the dog, eyes narrowed, and then seems to remember himself, "I'm so sorry. He's usually better behaved."

The way he talks, looking at Padfoot, and the way Padfoot reacts, lifting his head in a manner that bleeds defiance, anyone might think the two are actually capable of holding a proper conversation. You smile, amused at the situation, "He's okay. Seems like him and Nova have become fast friends."

Your own dog, a brown, little spaniel puppy, is sitting between Padfoot's front legs happily. As if he can understand, Padfoot drops his head on top of Nova's and almost crushes her with the sheer weight. The man laughs, seemingly resigned to his fate with his mischievous dog.

"Right. Well, again, sorry." He looks entirely bashful, cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.

"No problem, honestly." You wave him off.

The man turns to go back whatever way he came, calling out for Padfoot who remains defiantly still. He calls after him again, growing slightly frustrated, before resigning to his fate when Padfoot circles you once, twice, and then entices Nova into walking slightly ahead along with him. You smile at how tiny she looks compared to the massive black dog, weaving playfully in and out of his feet as they go. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I suppose he's not ready to part with her, yet." He chuckles, holding his hand out towards the two dogs in a gesture - shall we?

You chuckle lightly, "Apparently not."

You tell him your name, and he tells you that his is Remus. It's a nice name, uncommon, you suppose. But so is his accent. Welsh, maybe? It's definitely got a twinge of something. It's endearing. You walk together through the park, along the trail, letting Nova and Padfoot lead the way. Padfoot keeps Nova out of trouble, leading her away from the other leash-less dogs that the four of you pass. There's multiple strange looks from the people you pass, clearly fascinated with Nova and Padfoot and their ridiculous size difference.

"How old is he?" You ask, nodding your head towards Padfoot, who's nosing Nova back onto the dirt path instead of allowing her to run head first into the surrounding forrest.

He's incredibly smart.

"Uhm," Remus falters, lets out a breath you assume is a laugh intended for himself, some sort of inside joke, likely, "He's twenty one."

"Oh, so he's three?" You ask, brows furrowed in confusion.

Remus hums, amused, "Something like that."

"How old is Nova?"

"Eleven months. She's still a little shit sometimes, won't take to her recall training for love nor money." You tell him.

Remus nods along, listening amicably, a smile on his face, "Bit like that bugger then?"

You share a laugh, kind eyes and appled cheeks, shoulders brushing as you walk together. Remus is nice. He's tall and handsome and he's genuinely interested in holding a conversation, despite the fact that it's your dogs who have forced you along together.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Remus asks as you round a corner, passing a couple of determined hikers heading towards the hillier trails.

You both offer them passing smiles, and one comments on how cute your dogs are. You and Remus thank them both, looking fondly at Padfoot and Nova who are happily trotting along in front, sniffing and exploring.

"I work in a little art museum out by the marina. It's quiet and cozy. What about you?"

"I own a book shop with my mate Sirius," Remus tells you, "Quiet and cozy."

You giggle at the repetition of your answer, the car park that signals the end of the trail coming in to view. The sight drops like a lead balloon in your stomach. It's strange, the feeling you get of not having wanted the trail to end, to spend more time talking to Remus. He seems to feel the same way, because he takes a deep breath, teeth sliding over his bottom lip when he notices the carpark, too.

"Did you," He falters, unsure, so you offer him an assuring smile, hope that the look in your eyes tells him you're going to say yes.

He grins back, nodding as if you've passed a silent message between you, "Did you maybe want to get coffee, sometime? Or dinner? Maybe another walk?"

"Yes, Remus. I'd like that." You nod.

Remus looks chuffed, eyes bright and twinkly, cheeks rounded with the force of his smile. He still manages to look entirely too handsome even when he's bashful as he pulls out his phone and hands it to you, a contact form already waiting. You put your number in, your name, too, and hand it back to him.

"I'll text you?" He asks.

You nod, "Text me."

Remus whistles for Padfoot, who actually complies this time, as you bend down to reattach Nova's leash. You say your goodbyes, promise to talk soon, and then go your separate ways to your car.

You're smiling to yourself the entire time you clip Nova into place, talking animatedly to her about how well behaved she was with Padfoot and you almost miss it when you shut the door, look up and notice the car Remus got into just moments ago is driving past. Your brain tells you to put your hand up and wave, but he hasn't seen you, he's too busy talking - or yelling, it looks like - at the fully grown man in his passenger seat.

He's gone a second later, pulling out of the car park as you stand there, dazed, mouth opening and closing like some sort of fish.

"What the-"

[dioslesbianwife]

hello its me 🦇 anon and the brainworms are at it again and i cant sleep because of finals so can i req jofoes x reader who is like Helena from a midsummer night’s dream by Shakespeare :3

if you aren’t familiar with it Helena is basically willing to do anything for the person she’s inlove with even if it means demeaning herself (one of her most famous quotes is “let me be your spaniel!” Like ok girl i see you) despite that energy not quite being reciprocated and easily assumes people are working against her,, like i wonder how they’d be with that sort of one sided devotion towards them and their goals. Like yes reader knows they’re like murderers or just egotistical (im looking at you diego) but they dont gaf, hell their beloved looks majestic while preaching about heaven or being the ultimate creation or whatnot

hi 🦇! sure, and i hope your finals went well too <33 hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting ^^

Dio

He is absolutely enthralled by your self-degradation.

You crawl after him, practically begging for his love, saying you’ll be anything he wants- his pet, his toy, his devoted servant- and he just… grins.

“How poetic… groveling before a god,” he says, running his cold fingers under your chin to tilt your teary face up to his.

He doesn’t love you- yet- but your obsessive loyalty earns you a spot at his side. Or more accurately, at his feet.

The way you sob and shiver just to be acknowledged strokes his ego like nothing else.

“Let them call you foolish,” he murmurs, “but remember- fools die in the arms of kings.”

Kars

He sees your devotion as beneath him, but fascinating in a weirdly flattering way.

You weep and wail about how perfect he is, how you'd willingly die if it meant helping him achieve his vision of beauty and godhood.

At first, he thinks it’s pitiful… but there’s something so human about your desperation. Something he almost envies.

“You would burn for me? Bleed for me?” he muses aloud. “Even knowing I cannot love you?”

He doesn’t stop you. In fact, he lets you follow him, lets you believe you’re needed.

He’ll never correct your belief. Because gods enjoy being worshipped.

Yoshikage Kira

You scare him. A little.

You profess your love in long, unhinged monologues. You tell him you don’t care about what he’s done- you’ll love him no matter what.

Kira is a man who wants to go unnoticed, and your loud, undignified affections are the opposite of subtle.

But… when he watches you cling to him, eyes full of love, even while he’s cleaning blood off his tie…

…he can’t help but feel seen in a way he never has before.

“You’re ridiculous,” he sighs. “But I suppose… I do enjoy your loyalty. As long as you’re quiet.”

Diavolo

He lives for it.

Your blind adoration is the perfect ego boost for a paranoid, power-hungry man who demands control.

When you fall to your knees and sob that you’d gladly be his pawn, his knife, his pet- he cups your cheek and smirks.

“You understand, don’t you?” he breathes. “That your suffering is necessary. Beautiful, even.”

He uses your love like a leash. Sends you on dangerous tasks just to see how far you'll go.

“Let me be your spaniel,” you plead.

“Then bark,” he whispers, and you obey.

Doppio

At first, he’s confused. Then bashful. Then obsessed.

You cry over how wonderful he is, how you'll do anything he asks- and it completely bewilders him.

“Y-You… really think I’m that amazing?” he stammers, face flushed.

He doesn’t fully understand the scope of your devotion, but he loves the attention.

Even when Diavolo surfaces and treats you coldly, Doppio tries to make it up to you.

“You’re so sweet to me… you must really love me, huh?” he murmurs as you press kisses to his hands, begging him to never send you away.

Enrico Pucci

You are the perfect lamb in his eyes.

You kneel before him, tears in your eyes, whispering praises as he speaks about heaven and fate. He looks at you with something close to affection.

“To be so devoted… even in your smallness, you are divine,” he says.

Your pain is sacred. Your suffering is scripture. He encourages it, rewards it with crumbs of gentleness.

“You’d die for me?” he asks, as you weep and nod. “Then live for me instead. Serve me until the end of all things.”

You’d follow him off the edge of the world, and he knows it.

Diego Brando

He’s a little freaked out. Then turned on. Then smug.

You cling to his coat, sobbing about how majestic he looks on horseback, how you’d kill for his approval. He sneers but doesn’t push you away.

“You’re pathetic,” he scoffs, “but at least you recognize greatness.”

He’s so arrogant, he uses your worship as fuel. Brags about how you’d lick his boots if he asked.

If anyone insults you, he defends you- only because you’re his worshipper.

“Touch my little fan again,” he growls, “and I’ll slit your throat. They belong to me.”

Funny Valentine

He is intrigued. Deeply.

Your Helena-level desperation fits perfectly into his “patriot’s sacrifice” narrative.

“You’d suffer for me? Then you already understand what it means to love this country,” he says, gently brushing a tear from your cheek.

He praises your devotion in speeches. Uses your love to demonstrate loyalty. To him, you are an example.

But sometimes… he wonders if he’s starting to feel something too. Something beyond the utility of your affection.

“One day,” he says, “you will be rewarded. Until then… endure.”

Tooru

He’s both amused and intoxicated by you.

Your obsession is like music to him. You call him beautiful, weep at his feet, kiss the ground he walks on- and he drinks it up.

“You’re so weird,” he chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But damn...”

He tests you constantly. Manipulates you, pushes you, pulls away. You always come crawling back.

You say everyone’s against you, and he leans into it. “They are, babe. But I’m not. I’m all you’ve got.”

You smile through tears. He gives you a kiss on the forehead. You melt.

[vertigovineyard]

-inspired by @jellyfish4sblog

Age(d)re bag: "Lolita Kawaii Japanese Bow knot Leather Backpack"

Dream age(d)re bag containing: - lps (Shorthair #933, Guppy #1814, Polar bear #646, and Cocker spaniel #960) - Crayon tub - My little pony jumbo coloring book - Squishables plague doctor paci - Goth milk carton bottle - Jellycat Bashful Inky bunny - Gold bond lotion - Goldfish snackies

[lizellyn]

International Dog Day

Meet My International Pack Bash – Cavalier King Charles Spaniel (Britain) Boomer – Bernese Mountain Dog mixed with Cavalier King Charles (Switzerland & Britain) Tanner – Aussiedoodle (Australian & a little bit of France/German/U.S.)

[fortheloveofjellycats]

Life Can be Ruff

One of my favorite photos (from left to right: KJ, Haktwo and Sherlock) that always makes me smile featuring some of my favorite pups.

Hello, my dearest Jellycat family. It’s been a while.

I haven’t been feeling myself lately, which explains my lack of posting. It feels like there’s so much going on at once, but at the same time nothing at all. Because I’ve been feeling off, I’ve also felt quite disconnected from most of my special interests, including Jellycats. I miss them and I miss you all. I definitely don’t miss the greedy collectors though, lol. I have quite a few requests in my inbox that I promise I’ll get to at some point.

But for now, I’d like to ask if you could send in some asks and share with me something that has brought you joy recently. It can be Jellycat related, you can send in photos of your best buddies, or it could be something else completely. Let’s spread a little joy and love. I need it. I feel like this community needs it.

Love you all,

Bear (Max)

[kinzplush-archive]

jellycat bashful spaniel outfit, academia vibes !!! a little pupkid who loves to read and learn,, very curious 🐾📚🧦🎒

[grandrtist]

Look at my children!!!!

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 3

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

You went to work the next day with a pep in your step, your nicest push-up bra, and the lowest v-neck t-shirt you could find, ready for a day of flirting, teasing, and hopefully more sex by the end of it. When you arrived at your trailer, however, you were surprised to find your new assistant, Kaitlyn, eagerly waiting for you.

“Good morning,” she chirped, giving you an enthusiastic wave.

“Oh, um, hi” you stammered. “I’m so sorry, I forgot you were starting today! Come on in!” You ushered her into the trailer and showed her around while you gave her a brief rundown of what she’ll be doing with you for her first day. “And if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“Sounds great,” she replied.

Just then you heard the door open and Tom walked in carrying two coffees, just as he had the day before. When he saw Kaitlyn, he had a look of surprise on his face, probably not dissimilar to yours when you arrived. “Oh hello,” he greeted Kaitlyn, who immediately became very excited.

“Hi, I’m Kaitlyn,” she responded enthusiastically. “I’m so excited to work with you! I’m a huge fan!”

“Kaitlyn is my new assistant,” you clarified.

Tom turned to look at you and his eyes were immediately drawn to your generously exposed cleavage, at which point he quickly redirected his gaze back to Kaitlyn, clearing his throat and gulping hard. “It’s, erm, very nice to meet you,” he told her. “Had I known you were going to be here today, I would have gotten you a coffee as well.” He handed you your coffee, seemingly unable to prevent his eyes from briefly darting to your chest before looking back at Kaitlyn. You couldn’t help but be proud of yourself for being able to even briefly disrupt his normally smooth demeanor.

“Oh that is so kind,” she responded to Tom sweetly. “But I actually don’t drink coffee.”

So she’s just naturally this chipper all the time? you thought. Tom gave you a look as if he was thinking the exact same thing, causing you to bite back a laugh.

Your silent question was soon answered when you and Kaitlyn worked on Tom’s makeup and hair, and she never stopped talking the whole time. Even on set, she seemed to have something to say every time the camera stopped rolling.

Of course, you only actually caught about half of what she was saying because you were a bit preoccupied with watching Tom, counting every time he snuck a glance at your boobs, knowing that he was trying so hard to be professional. It was like your new favorite game. Eventually, he must have resided to address it, because you got a text from him while he was sitting only a few feet away from you, as they set up for the next scene.

For the rest of the day, you continued playing your secret little game, excited for whatever repercussions awaited you at Tom’s place that night. Luckily, Kaitlyn seemed too wrapped up in whatever she was talking about at any given time to notice how distracted you were. As soon as filming wrapped, you rushed through training her on how to clean and prep for the next day, before dashing out to your car and heading for the address Tom gave you.

…

You knocked on Tom’s door feeling both excited and nervous. You heard a dog bark as well as Tom’s voice. “Oh hush now, Bobby, you silly pup.” When he opened the door, you gave him a bashful smile.

“Hi,” you said simply.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted you with a smirk, pulling you inside. A chocolate brown cocker spaniel excitedly ran circles around your feet, sniffing you and wagging his tail. You knelt down to pet him.

“Is this the famous Bobby I’ve heard so much about?” you asked Tom as you gave the dog scratches behind the ears.

Tom chuckled. “Yes, and he would love for you to give him pets and attention all night,” he began as he helped you to stand back up and then stepped close to you. “But I’m afraid we have other business to attend to first.”

“And what would that be?” you asked, but your question was quickly answered when he unzipped your jacket like he was unwrapping a fragile gift, gazing at your chest in awe as you shrugged the jacket off of your shoulders. When it fell to the floor it seemed to startle Bobby, who then scurried off to his bed. “Oh, poor buddy,” you cooed after the dog.

“You’re evil for doing this to me today,” Tom told you, clearly paying no attention to anything other than your impeccable cleavage.

“Come on now,” you playfully implored, peeling your shirt off and tossing it on the floor. “If I was evil, I wouldn’t have come over to let you play with them.”

His eyebrows knitted together and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, looking like a puppy with a treat in front of him. “I take it back,” he said, lightly brushing your bra straps off your shoulders and then reaching back to undo the clasp. “You’re an angel.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied, giggling. As soon as your bra was off, Tom pulled you in for a kiss, his large hands hungrily groping your now bare tits. Then, without warning, he lifted you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist and carried you to the sofa, laying you down on your back while he hovered above you.

As soon as your back hit the leather, his lips found your nipple and began sucking, causing you to gasp and arch your back. While his mouth played mercilessly with one nipple, his hand played with the other, making you whimper and squirm underneath him, and getting you wetter and wetter by the second. You reached down and started unbuttoning his shirt, and he paused his actions so he could finish taking it off.

As he sat up on his knees, you marveled at his chiseled torso for a moment, your eyes grazing over every muscle. Once you found his hip creases, you followed them down to the waistline of his trousers, just below which was his prominent erection straining against the fabric.

Licking your lips, you sat up and began unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. You smirked up at him. “Now it’s my turn to play,” you told him before swiftly tugging his trousers down just below his ass and groin, causing his cock to spring up in front of you. He stared down at you intently, his mouth falling open slightly. You, however, were too preoccupied with the sizable prize in front of you to notice. Not only was it long, but it was thick and veiny too, the head red with a bead of precum oozing from the tip. You wrapped one hand around the base of the shaft, leaned in, and licked the clear sticky liquid from the slit. Hearing him hiss quietly, you looked up at him through your lashes, wanting to see his reaction as your tongue drew slow circles around the head of his throbbing dick. His lower jaw jutted out just a bit and a soft sigh escaped his lungs. Never taking your eyes off of him, you wrapped your lips around the corona and lightly sucked on the head. He laced his fingers in your hair and his eyes fell closed as he hummed contently. You continued sucking and swirling your tongue while you watched him slowly unravel. His breathing became more labored, his face and chest were beginning to flush a light pink, his fingers were massaging your scalp with more and more pressure until he grabbed a fistful of your hair and bucked his hips slightly, forcing a bit more of his length into your mouth. You released him with a menacing little chuckle. “You want to fuck my mouth, don’t you?”

As soon as he lost contact with your mouth, his eyes shot open and he looked down at you with a pleading expression. A breathy “Fuck yes,” was all he could muster.

The hand that was still on his shaft began pumping him agonizingly slow. “Well, darling, I’m afraid I have to see just how much of this cock I can take in my mouth before that can happen,” you told him, feigning innocence. “Seeing as though you’re so fucking big…” With the flat of your tongue, you licked a long stripe up the underside of his penis, from base to tip. You heard him quietly whimper in anticipation, causing your cunt to flood with fresh arousal. You took him in your mouth again, this time sucking his length in further and further. Once you were sure you’d almost reached your limit, you pulled back, opened your throat as much as you could, and took him in even deeper, ushering a low groan from him. That’s when you began sliding your mouth up and down his cock, sucking as hard as you could while taking him as deep as your throat would allow.

“Holy shit,” Tom moaned, gripping your hair tighter. You reached behind him and grabbed his ass, pulling him toward you and signaling to him that he could finally have his way with you. He started cautiously thrusting his hips and you moaned around his member as if to tell him to keep going. He took your cue and began fucking your mouth. The tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat made your eyes water, but you didn’t care because he was making the sexiest noises while he took what he wanted. “Oh god, Y/N, I’m gonna cum!”

You hummed your approval just before he spurted hot cum down your throat. You happily swallowed every drop until he pulled back, his softening cock slipping from your lips with a slight pop.

You both laid back against opposite ends of the sofa. “That was… incredible,” he huffed, combing his fingers through his hair and panting heavily.

“I’m glad.” You chuckled lightly, staring up at the ceiling while you massaged your cheeks and mouth, knowing you’d be sore later.

“Seems like you enjoyed it quite a bit as well,” he teased.

You lifted your head to look at him. “Why do you say that?”

He smiled mischievously at you. “Sweetheart, you’ve soaked through your jeans.”

“Shit, really?” You reached between your legs and felt a small wet spot on your crotch. “Goddammit, these were my last clean pair, and I was hoping to get another day out of them before I have to do laundry.”

Tom laughed as he stood up and pulled his trousers back up. “Here. Take them off,” he told you, holding out his hand.

You gave him a quizzical look. “Normally guys tell me to take my pants off before they’ve had a chance to cum,” you teased while you wiggled out of your jeans and gave them to him.

He looked at you expectantly. “Knickers too, love.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you slipped your soaked panties off and gave them to him, feeling oddly exposed despite the fact that his mouth was just on your bare pussy a mere twenty four hours ago. “May I ask what you’re going to do with my clothes?”

He walked towards the front door to pick up your shirt and bra. “I’m just washing them, you sicko,” he said teasingly.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you implored.

“Please, I insist. Unless you have somewhere to be in the next couple of hours.”

“And what am I supposed to wear in the meantime?” you asked.

“Preferably nothing,” he replied, winking at you. “But if you’re cold, you can wear my shirt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, so cliché.”

“Do you want clean clothes, or not?”

You sighed, defeated. “Fine,” you told him, but he was already walking away. “No panty sniffing though!” you called after him.

“Too late,” he sang playfully, turning around and walking backwards so you could see him take a big whiff of your underwear and giving a pleasurable sigh as he exhaled.

“You are so naughty!” you yelled, giggling and throwing one of the throw pillows at him. He dodged it and scurried off to what you assumed was the laundry room.

Once Tom disappeared from view, you found his shirt on the floor and put it on. The soft cotton of the light blue button down felt nice against your skin and the bottom hem of the shirt fell just below your ass. After putting the shirt on, you took a moment to look around. You were in a sunken lounge with a brown leather sectional facing a wall made almost entirely up of bookshelves, apart from a TV and a fireplace in the middle. It suited him well.

“Would you like some wine, darling,” you heard him call from another room.

“Yes, please,” you replied. “Red if you have it.” Then you remembered you were wearing his shirt. “Actually, better go with white,” you corrected yourself, not wanting to risk staining it.

A few moments later, you were perusing Tom’s book collection when he came back to the lounge with 2 glasses of wine. “Well fuck,” he huffed, and you turned around. “I knew you’d look gorgeous in my shirt, but… wow.”

You smiled bashfully and shook your head as you took your glass of wine. “That’s just because it’s your shirt, you narcissist,” you teased him.

He grabbed you by the waist with his free hand and pulled you close. “I can assure you, that’s not the reason,” he told you, leaning his head down to kiss you.

You spent the next couple of hours just sipping your wine and talking, only pausing once so that Tom could switch the laundry over to the dryer. It was surprisingly easy and comfortable, like you had known each other for years, yet still had the excitement of a new fling.

“So, I have a question for you,” Tom began, setting his empty glass on an end table.

“What’s that, Tommy boy?” You asked from the opposite end of the couch. You mirrored his actions by setting your glass down as well and shooting him an inquisitive look.

“Why the hell are you all the way over there?” As he said this, he suddenly grabbed your ankle and pulled you toward him so that you slid down onto your back and then he crawled over your body until his nose was touching yours. You squealed and giggled in response, before he kissed you hard on the lips and hitched your leg over his hip. Your kiss was soon interrupted, however, by the buzzer from the dryer. “Hold that thought,” he told you before springing up to go get your clothes.

You huffed in frustration. “You know you really don’t have to get them right this second,” you called after him as you stood up from the sofa. He didn’t answer, but a few minutes later he came back with your folded clothes in his hands.

“I want you to know, that you are perfectly welcome to put these on and go home now if you really want,” he began, sounding less than enthused about that option. Then he stepped closer to you, putting his free hand on your waist. “Or we could just bring these up to the bedroom so that they are there for you when you wake up in the morning.” As he finished his sentence, he dipped his head down to ghost his lips over the sensitive skin just below your ear. “What do you think?”

“A sleepover, huh?” you asked, your eyelids falling closed as he placed soft kisses to your neck.

“Mmhm,” he hummed in response.

“I mean, I guess,” you teased, feigning indifference. “If you really want me to.”

He brought his lips to your ear and the hand that was on your waist crept down below the shirt you were wearing. “I really, really do,” he whispered, giving your pussy a few gentle strokes with his index finger.

“Well then, lead the way.”

He took your hand in his and led you to his bedroom. Once there, he set your clothes on top of his dresser and then turned to you, gazing down at you lustfully as he began to unbutton your shirt. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” he said in a low tone, pushing the garment off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

He took a moment to look at your naked figure, running his hands gently over your curves. Then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a heated kiss. You placed your palms on his chest, lightly rubbing your thumbs over his nipples. He hummed in response as he walked you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back, leaving him standing above you.

Tom looked down at you hungrily, and you smirked back up at him before turning around onto your hands and knees, giving him a perfect view of your ass. You looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled as you wiggled your rear a bit. His gaze was transfixed on your butt while he placed both hands on it, rubbing it affectionately before giving it a light smack. You yelped and giggled, encouraging him to do it again. He gave you another spank, slightly harder this time, causing you to gasp and moan. He snickered and knelt down on the floor by the foot of the bed so that your ass and cunt were right in front of his face. You smiled in anticipation and laid your head and chest down on the mattress and spread your knees apart, creating the perfect angle for him to access your pussy. Suddenly, you felt his tongue tease your entrance, playing with your delicate folds and then dipping between them.

“Mmmm,” he hummed into your channel. You rocked your hips back a little, signaling you wanted more. He gently sucked one of your delicate pussy lips into his mouth, and then the other.

“That’s so good, baby,” you whined. He released your folds from his lips and found your clit with the tip of his tongue, lazily flicking it. You whimpered and moaned until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck, Tom, I need your cock!”

“Are you sure, darling?” he asked playfully. “Because I could spend hours lapping at this delicious little pussy of yours.” He gave a few more flicks of his tongue to your clit.

“Please,” you begged, clenching your cunt around nothing. “Fuck me!”

Chuckling, he stood up behind you. “You’re so sexy when you beg,” he praised, as you heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open. He placed a hand on your hip and rubbed his thumb affectionately over your soft skin.

You felt his hard member nudge at your entrance. “Put it in, now!” you commanded.

His hand met your ass cheek with a loud smack. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you begged for him. “Please put your massive cock in my aching pussy and fuck me raw!”

With a grunt, Tom swiftly thrusted his length inside you.

“Oh fuck!” you cried, his size causing a slightly uncomfortable but mostly pleasurable stretch.

He leaned down and put his lips to your ear. “This alright, love?” He asked as his hand snaked around to your front and his fingers found your clit and rubbed gentle circles into it.

“Mmmm god yes,” you moaned, swiveling your hips. The stimulation from his fingers on your clit opened you up more and allowed his cock to enter you a bit further.

“Good girl,” he purred, rolling his hips back and then pushing into you even further still. He sucked on your earlobe while slowly beginning to pump in and out of you, soft grunts and groans coming from the back of his throat. His fingers kept a steady rhythm on your clit.

Your moans were becoming louder and longer as your climax came closer and closer. You were sure you were drooling into the mattress at this point but you didn’t care.

“Are you going to cum for me, beautiful?” He asked in a low, gruff voice.

“Yes,” you cried out. “Ooooooh yes, yes! YES!” You tumbled over the edge of bliss, your walls clenching and fluttering around his cock.

With a loud grunt, Tom sat up, took his fingers off of your clit so he could grab your hips with both hands, and started pounding into you, relentlessly.

“Oh my fucking GOD!” you wailed. At this point you didn’t know if this was a second orgasm or an intense continuation of the first, but you didn’t care. As you rode out your high, you heard Tom’s panting and moaning becoming more desperate, and then with a loud groan of your name, he came too, no doubt filling the condom to its limit with a few more staggered thrusts.

As soon as he pulled out of you, you turned onto your back and laid there panting, watching him as he threw away the condom and then came back to lean over you, his hands on either side of your head. “You, my dear, are phenomenal,” he said breathlessly, dipping his head down to kiss your cheek.

“You have to give yourself at least some of the credit,” you teased. “Seeing as though you just fucked me silly into your mattress.”

“Well, if you’re able to get up off of said mattress, the en suite bathroom is right in there.” He nodded his head toward the doorway to your left. “Feel free to use whatever you need to and then come join me back in bed, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, and he helped you get up. As you walked toward the en suite, Tom gave you one more cheeky swat on the butt. You shot back a playful glare before disappearing into the bathroom.

After peeing, and gargling some of Tom’s mouthwash, you went back into the bedroom to find him laying in bed, waiting for you.

“Did you find everything you needed?” Tom asked as you climbed into bed next to him. He held out his arm, inviting you to cuddle up to him.

“I did, thank you. And I made note of what to steal when I leave in the morning,” you joked as you laid down next to him, resting your head and hand on his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay with me sleeping here tonight?” you asked, lifting your head again to look at him and attempting to stifle a yawn.

He chuckled lightly, and brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m positive. Why would I ever want a gorgeous woman like yourself to leave my bed?”

“Was that a rhetorical question? Because if not, I could probably come up with some reasons.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Rhetorical. Please stay. I enjoy the company.”

You acted defeated, sighing exaggeratedly as you laid your head back down on his chest. “Fine, but if I don’t get enough sleep, you are the one who has to deal with an ill-tempered MUA, and if you don’t get enough sleep, I’m the one who has to try to hide the bags under your eyes, in which case you will still have to deal with an ill-tempered MUA.”

His chest rumbled underneath your head as he laughed. “Well, you are welcome to go home if you really want.”

“Oh no, I’m staying,” you clarified, snuggling deeper into him. “I’m way too comfortable to leave now.”

“Good,” he replied softly, as he began to lightly run his fingers up and down your back, putting you to sleep almost immediately.

…

When the alarm on your phone went off the next morning, you were a bit disoriented, forgetting that you didn’t sleep in your own bed. Suddenly, a long, muscular arm flopped down on top of you and made you jump a little bit. “Jesus!”

“It’s Tom, actually,” replied the sleepy voice to which the arm was attached.

“You scared me,” you said, chuckling quietly. Tom simply groaned in reply as he pulled you close to him, so that your back was flush against his chest. It turns out this man was quite the cuddler, which you certainly didn’t mind, but you needed to go home and get ready for work. “I have to leave,” you whispered to him.

He nuzzled his face into your hair and sighed. “Ten more minutes.”

You reached your hand behind you to gently scratch his scalp. “You are more than welcome to sleep for ten more minutes, or even longer if you’d like, but unfortunately I don’t have that luxury, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to let go of me.”

“Mm-mm,” he lazily protested, as his arm tightened around your waist. You suddenly felt something hard poke you in your lower back.

“Oh my,” you said with a chuckle. “Someone was having some very pleasant dreams.”

“Morning wood,” he mumbled. “Still sleepy…. Ten more minutes…” His grip around your waist loosened and he began to snore softly in your ear.

You giggled quietly as you ever so gently lifted his arm off of you and slid out of bed. Then, after getting dressed, you left his house as quietly as you could, so he could sleep in a little longer.

[misterier]

random hcs bc it's 5 in the morning 😻

yellow guy draws on the fridge with dry erase markers .

duck wears those 1515 ass pj's and gets out his dusty reading glasses before bed, and probably re-reads the newspaper before passing out .

red guy really likes starbursts candy .

they have their own version of family game night, every week on friday they (one a week) gets to pick how they spend their time that day. that could be sitting around watching Gorlton and Hovris, reading old story books, drawings on the floor while playing music, or being duck's servants (they don't know why they still let him participate) .

yellow guy has a stuffed animal he got from roy when he was really young and now he literally cannot sleep with out it because he finds so much comfort in it, even if his father wasn't the best to him .

tony/clock gets annoyed when people don't know 24 hour time, like wdym you don't know what 16:45 is 🤨, the notepad/paige gets really annoyed when he speaks like that and ends up hitting him with comically large crayons .

colin/the computer over heats so quickly frfr, you open one tab and his monitor is literal hell fire .

tommy and lily used to have a pet dog, his name was charlie and he was a cocker spaniel .

the trio likes to rank things like foods allot so when they try something new they'll literally ask something like "how's it taste? from a scale of raw chicken picnic to black licorice" , they forget that not everyone knows the way the scale works .

when the coffin guy takes people alone to their death he makes sure to make them teat before he breaks the news, if they already don't know .

if someone offers to get the old train man hearing aids he beats them with the cane and screams about how he can't believe they're calling him old .

warren has horrible posture and has had back pain since he was a young teen .

dunkin hates when people make dunkin donuts jokes, and will bash them on the company website if they keep making them .

red guy had a long emo phase .

shrignold wears his religious robes around the house because he likes how it flows behind him and makes him look 'mysterious' .

red guy has the humor of a middle schooler and only laughs at the dumbest shit known to man, if duck asks what he's laughing about and red shows him. duck will literally shake his head, tsk, put his hands on his hips, then walk away.

duck thinks he's the father when he's actually the mother/hj .

duck only wears dramatic fluffy robes that flow behind him .

the trio brush their teeth together because if they don't they all forget .

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Play Date

A bit of smutty fluff with Darby.

Pairing: Darby Allin x OFC

Word count: 1,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content

Yes, he’s here, he’s always here, hanging out with his friends in the skatepark. Whose idea it was to put that next to the area for dogs to play off-leash you have no idea but whoever it was clearly had a sadistic streak. But you’re happy enough to sit with one eye on both- watching Elmer sniffing butts and taking names on the one side and watching the mysterious ice boy on the other. 

He looks a little old to be a skater, although he’s apparently not yet old enough to worry about getting hurt because he wipes out with the energy of a fifteen-year-old on a sugar rush. Of course, most of the time he does well, very well, pulls off the kind of maneuvers that show he must be exceptionally in tune with his body and in perfect control of it. It’s fun to think about that, although frustrating because you’d love to find out if what you’re thinking is right. 

A more confident woman would walk over and introduce herself. But you are not that confident. You are the shy woman who hopes she doesn’t come off as creepy, watching him from a not-so-discreet distance. Every now and then he glances back at you with those frozen blue eyes that look electric even from here, and you feel your cheeks grow hot. Today, though, rather than just turn back to his friends, you see him look a little longer, tilting his head like he’s trying to figure something out. 

You turn your focus back to Elmer, bouncing around like he’s made of rubber, tongue hanging out one side of his smiling mouth. It’s exhausting just watching him and yet he never seems to run out of energy. 

“Which kid is yours?”

You start at the sound of the voice, deeper, more mature than you expected. Then you look up and there he is, looking back at you with a quizzical hint of a smile. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Which one do you belong to?”

He nods his head towards the dog run. 

“Oh,” you laugh nervously, “the turbo powered one right there.”

You point to Elmer just as he leaps right over a golden retriever twice his size. 

“Wow. He must be a handful. What kind is he?”

“I don’t know… brown and white? He’s a rescue. I think he’s some sort of spaniel/ terrier mix.”

“Mind if I sit?”

He motions to the bench you’re occupying and it takes all your strength not to say that you don’t care if he sits on your back as long as it means he keeps talking to you, so you’re kind of proud that all you do is shift to one side and motion to him to make himself at home. 

“You come here a lot.”

He noticed. 

“A lot of the dogs are regulars, so he gets to see all his friends.” You pause, not sure if you want to admit that you’ve noticed him, but since he’s opened that door, it seems like fair game. “You skate every day?”

“Oh no, just when I can. I’m a professional wrestler, so that takes up more of my time now.”

“I’m sorry, you’re a what?”

“A wrestler.”

“Like a Hulk Hogan kind of thing?”

He laughs, thankfully, because you’re well aware that your answer was ridiculous, but you can’t think of a single other professional wrestler you’ve ever heard of. Damn. The Rock. That, at least, would have been a little more current. 

“I’m guessing you’re not a fan.”

“My hundred-year-old reference gave me away?”

“It’s come a long way. I don’t know, you might like it.” He pauses and looks just slightly bashful. “Or not. I mean, I don’t know what you like.”

I like you!!

“So, skateboarding and wrestling… you must get hurt a lot.”

“Well, not badly as long as I’m careful. Believe it or not, I’m being careful.”

Elmer is running circles around the entire perimeter of the enclosure like he’s on rails. On one pass he trips over his own feet and goes flying but immediately he’s back up and tearing around. 

“See?” your handsome new friend says. “You can do all sorts of wild things and get right back up if you know what you’re doing.”

“I promise you, Elmer does not know what he’s doing.”

“Elmer?”

“Yeah. I thought that sounded like a slowpoke old guy, so it seemed like the perfect wrong name for him.”

“Darby.”

“You’d call him Darby?”

“My name,” he laughs. “I’m Darby.”

You share your name as well, feeling like it’s sort of underwhelmingly normal compared to either Darby or Elmer, not that it should matter. The sound when he repeats it makes your insides quiver. 

“Does Elmer ever slow down?”

“After a while he gets hungry. Then he eats a whole lot and passes out.”

“How long a while before that happens?”

“I don’t really know,” you sigh. “Seven or eight hours?”

You both laugh at that one and Darby’s sparkling eyes rest a long time on you, slowly inching down your entire body. 

“So you’re just going to sit here until midnight or whenever?”

“No, I do eventually insist that we go home.”

His fingers brush against your neck so lightly you think it might be your hair in the wind. 

“When do you think you might be doing that?”

You inhale sharply and from the corner of your eye, you see him smile. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing that he’s caught you but he’s clearly implying he wants to get that sort of reaction, right? Unless he just wants to see Elmer up close. 

When you go to collect your bundle of electricity, Darby fusses over him so much you’re a little worried that he was just trying to get close to Elmer, but then he stands up and runs his hand along your arm while he gives you a look that belongs in something x-rated. 

“Where are you parked?” he purrs. 

“I actually just live a couple of blocks away.”

He smiles mischievously until you feel forced to break the silence. 

“You could come over if you like.”

“I would like that, actually.”

Elmer jerks on his leash so hard he pulls you forward a few steps. 

“Someone’s eager,” Darby murmurs. 

You have no idea. 

Picking up skaters in the park is not the kind of thing someone your age is supposed to be doing but this guy is enough to make you ignore that. Your roommate won’t be home at this time, so it’s like the stars have aligned. Who are you to question that? 

As soon as you walk in, you pour Elmer a giant bowl of food and he has no interest in anything else from that moment. You stand up and are about to make some sort of stupid small talk when he kisses you so deeply it hits your soul. You fall back against the counter, pawing at him with the same enthusiasm, like you’ve just been set free from some weird prison. 

The two of you stagger towards your bedroom, shedding clothing as you go, until you find yourself falling back on the mattress so hard that it knocks the wind out of you. You force yourself to slow down a little so that you can appreciate what you’re seeing- his lean, muscled body, decorated with black ink… you can’t believe that this guy has somehow chosen to come home with you, but then he bites down hard on your collar bone and, yes, this is very real. 

He continues to nip at you as he slides down between your legs, letting his tongue flick lightly over the folds of your flesh, laughing softly when you squirm and try to push back against him. He brushes his fingers against you and gives an insouciant look, like he’s thinking about just taking off but oh no, he dives right in and his mouth is as nimble and flexible as the rest of him, apparently, because you almost immediately feel that familiar tension rising in you, building and building, steadily moving towards a crescendo that, when it comes, makes you scream so loud you have to bury your face in your pillow. 

The pillow is grabbed roughly out of your hands just a few seconds later as Darby climbs on top of you and just drives himself inside you. Everything about this encounter seems to leave you catching your breath. He thrusts into you aggressively, draping one of your legs over his shoulder as he smiles at how obviously discombobulated you are. And just as you start to get your bearing again, he flips you over and slides back into you from behind. 

“This how you thought your afternoon was going to turn out?” he whispers, biting your earlobe. 

“Absolutely not,” you gasp. 

His movements are rough and fast and thrilling, making you clench against him as he gets a little wilder and moans to signal his impending climax. When he comes, he digs his nails deep into your hips and you smile to yourself at the knowledge that you’re going to have marks for a few days to remind you of this. 

He rolls over and you collapse next to him, brushing your hand over his damp, handsome face. The sound of your breathing fills the room as you just lie there, sated, for what feels like a long time. 

Finally, he gets up and pulls on the clothes that made it as far as the room. He steps out and comes back with the rest of what he was wearing, struggling to get into his hoodie. He kneels on the bed and gives you a kiss, his lips still tasting of you. 

“That was fun,” he says softly. 

You nod because you’re still not sure if you can talk, and start to sit up as he leaves. 

“No, it’s fine, stay there.”

And sure, it would be more polite to show him to the door, but your legs are as gelatinous as the rest of you, so you smile and let him go. 

It’s probably another half an hour before you make yourself get up, mostly because you want to make sure you pick up your clothes before your roommate gets home rather than because you actually want to. As you’re wending your way, gathering up your hastily discarded garments, you notice a folded paper pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Written in big letters is one word: ELMER. 

When you open it- it’s not like Elmer can read hisown mail- there’s a phone number. 

Let me know if you want to play. 

Yes, it’s totally corny, but it’s the best kind of corny, the kind that makes you crack up laughing all by yourself. 

You look over at your furry boy, curled up on the floor next to the sofa, snoring like a freight train. 

“Guess we both made friends today."

[jelly-moss]

Bashful Spaniel (Retired 20??)

[beanieblanchett]

iii. “use me but as your spaniel”

Paring: Cate Blanchett x fem reader

Warnings: professor student relationship, slight smut, masterbation, dom/sub undertone, dirty talk

Read Chapter 2 here

(Sorry for the long wait I have been caught up with my personal and academic life lately🥺I know I’ve been a complete ass making people wait for so long. I’m so sorry)

*not my edits*

The day has been long.

There’s a clock in your bedroom. An old fashioned one, and you could hear the second hand ticking in your room: time passes in the unit of a second at a time, and you are so aware of every second that has passed.

It is painful, really. You try to focus on the reading for your psychology class, but there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, as if something is suspended in the air, waiting to fall.

To fall. Like gravity, so natural and irresistible. That is how you feel right now as you sigh and look at your planner for the third time in the past hour, a scheduled appointment for office hours with a professor, the professor…...highlighted in yellow, like the color of the sunlight that is now resting outside of your window.

And so you are thinking about her again. The other day when she was explaining the literary devices that Ovid used to show the depth of love. Love, when the word falls out of her mouth you can’t help but tremble. You take in a deep breath as you wander around the meeting link on the canvas site. There’s still 10 minutes before the scheduled time. Even though she has always said in the lecture that anyone’s welcomed to join the meeting room, you decide to wait. The amount of hesitation and a mix of other feelings pumping in your heart scares you. You hate to use the word love lightly, but what other word could you use to describe that feeling that’s dancing in your chest right now? that hopeless attraction, that constant longing you have for her? When you’ve barely even talked to her, you’ve fallen for her. You feel utterly alone, slightly ashamed, and immensely terrified.

You curse under your breath as your eyes refocus on the screen, dragging yourself back from your thoughts, you’re almost late. And so you click on the link, your body tense and your teeth biting your lower lips nervously as you enter the waiting room.

“Well Hello, so how are you doing today?”

She greets you with a smile, her voice reaffirms her presence and makes your heart miss a beat. She’s wearing a white shirt, the first three buttons casually opened, elongating her elegant neck, exposing her delicate collar bones...and the a peek of her cleavage that makes your cheeks burn. Yet you can’t take your eyes off, a silver necklace draping from her neck down to inside her shirt...almost luring you.

“Can you hear me alright?”

She spoke again, and you’re embarrassed by your lost focus...on her. It still feels slightly unreal that she’s addressing you—you’ve gotten used to not answering her questions, as you know someone else always will.

“I’m sorry...yes I can hear you. I’m doing good.” You open your mouth to realize that your voice is a little raspy from not talking all day.

She is looking slightly tired but genuine and kind as usual, staring into the camera with a satisfied smile as she nods to your answer. You can hear her clicking as you both fell silent. You try to focus on the presence of her so as to stop your thoughts from running into wild places, but that seems to do the opposite job.

“So I see you’ve got a 90.5 on your last essay, which isn’t bad at all.” She said with a keen smile as she praises you, which soon turned into a look of curiosity as she raises her eyebrows, “with such a grade you’re not required to come see me, but you still choose to. I wonder if you have any specific questions for me?”

“Oh…” no, you don’t really have any, but you look down on your notes for things you’ve prepared for this meeting, “I just wonder if you have any suggestions for my writing, you know, where can I improve, because I’d like to get a better grade for that upcoming essay.”

“Hmmm..understood.” She nods again, and you can see her eyes quickly scanning through your essay as she speaks.

And her left hand, that was supporting her chin, is now resting on her left cheek. And—an observation that scorched your cheeks—her fingers are now unconsciously touching her own lips...in a most casual, most usual but also insanely sensual way.

“Will you give me a minute? I’d like to inspect your words more closely so I can give you better suggestions.” She lifted her eyes to look at the camera with a subtle grin.

“Oh sure. I’m in no rush.”

Her fingers returned to her lips after she’s done talking. long, beautiful fingers that you have dreamed and thought about. You’ve imagined them on your face, on your hand, on your body...in your body...without realizing how bold a move you’re making, you feel your own touch on your thighs, moving closer and closer to the center before you find yourself messaging your desire, already aroused, over the thin fabric of your panties.

You gasp at the pleasure, a silent one, and then a louder one. You look into the screen to see her now flipping through a book on her desk, (Metamorphosis, you suppose, as that’s what your essay was about), feeling more daring and slipped a sweaty hand into your pantie.

You’re wetter than you expected, providing an easy entrance for your own finger. Your breath gets heavier and heavier with your slow thrusts, trying to maintain your posture until a soft moan slips from your lips.

She’s still intensely focused on the book, and so you gathered the courage and whispered her name, “Cate….”

“Cate...Cate…..” you say to yourself, words muffled with your now loud moans, which is not getting more and more intense as you get closer to the climax——

“Okay I think I’m done here,” she looks up to you, her sudden words scaring you, ruining your orgasm and now your pussy is pathetically wet, and exposed in the air.

She doesn’t seem to expect your response as she proceeds to give you a few suggestions about your writing. She praises your interesting perspectives, and points out a few flaws in your analysis, raising some other questions regarding the texts. As always, she seems to be most genuinely interested in your work, analyzing it as if it’s the work of Ovid himself. Her voice is incredibly captivating to you, and to your swollen desire, but her highly professional manner turns you on even more——the thought of you being naked with your ugly desire, almost dripping in such an academic discussion...how sinful, how humiliating, how dangerously attractive.

“Now would you mind sharing with me the passage you’ve chosen for the upcoming essay? The Shakespeare one.”

“Oh yes. Of course.” You nod, looking down to your notes to avoid looking at those eyes, and looking at your own picture on the screen. You could imagine yourself right now, cheeks red and sweat on your forehead, how weird she must have thought of you to be.

“I’ve chosen the passage in the Midsummer Night’s Dream. Helena’s confession and pursuit of Demetrius. I find that speech of her quite touching...the devotion of putting oneself in such a lowly place, almost an act of submission, but also an act of great courage, to go against societal norms…”

You pause yourself there to look up at her, she’s nodding and smiling as always, but in her eyes, you see almost a tint of a fleeting, mischievous smirk? you must have made a mistake. And you must have been illusioned by your heating desire, so you shake your thoughts and continued: “it’s this passage,

‘Use me but as your spaniel—spurn me, strike me,

Neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave,

Unworthy as I am, to follow you.

What worser place can I beg in your love—

And yet a place of high respect with me—

Than to be used as you use your dog?’”

Finishing off, you look up again, and you feel yourself shaking.

Silence. And you think you see that mischievous smile in her eyes grow stronger. You’re almost certain, yes there’s definitely something behind those eyes. Those eyes that shine with kindness and professionalism, sparkle with interests and curiosity...there must be something behind those eyes.

And now they’re staring at you.

“Professor?” You feel unease, breaking the long silence that felt like forever.

“Is that for your essay or is that for me?”

Your heart either stopped beating or was beating at an unnatural rate, you opened your mouth to find yourself stuttering, “I...this...the essay...sorry?”

She did not respond, but her eyes now burning with a wanton look.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice is shaking.

“Oh yes you do.” She says, stopping the screen share of your essay so that you could see her and only her——eyes filled with mysterious lust, a smirk emerged on her face.

“You thought you muted yourself, didn’t you? Or did you think those filthy little noises that your pretty mouth was making could escape my ear? But I’ve heard them all, even those wet noises coming not from your mouth but from somewhere else. And did you think I didn’t notice you, looking like you’re having too much fun biting your lips with watery eyes in my lectures?”

Her stare was intense, burning you to the ground, to your knees, stripping you bare and making all your attempts to act decent seem useless and pathetic.

“You are quite a daring one, but a bashful one at the same time. How interesting.”

“‘To be used as you use your dog’...now look up and answer this: is that what you want from me?”

(To be continued.)

[fortheloveofjellycats]

Jellycat Bashful Spaniel Stim Board

Disclaimer: images are not mine unless otherwise stated. Sources listed below for credit.

SENSORY WARNING: Some sources below contain other stim images.

Sources: x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x

[elvenferretots]

Alternatives to Doodles

I see a lot of folks on my dog groups and on dogblr either defending designer mixed breeds or bashing them on basis of their traits, when the one thing that defines a mixed breed is that it won’t breed true. If you love the surprise, more power to you! Just insure you’re sourcing your dog responsibly. But if you want a defined set of traits, you will probably have better luck seeking a less common purebred that breeds true to for the traits you want. This is a list of some of the purebreds that might check the boxes that designer mixes often miss.

Doodles: Poodles and bichons! Usually when folks want a doodle, they want an intelligent non-shedding dog (poodle) or a loving companion dog who does not shed (bichon). There are also dozens of other breeds with wiry curly coats (Portuguese water dogs, komondorok, pulik, barbets, etc.) all of which will have consistent traits, coats, and health testing. Also, bernese mountain dogs and cocker spaniels have much more easily maintained coats than their doodle counterparts.

Chiweenie: Miniature pinschers have the spunk and spirit of a chihuahua with the stubborn streak and humour of a dachshund. Some different variants of breed traits might be found in rat terriers, basenjis, manchester terriers (standard and toy), and fox terriers (standard and toy).

Gerberian shepskies: White GSD’s, working line GSDs, Alaskan malamutes, West Siberian Laikas

Pomchi: Pappilons, Russian toy terriers, or Chinese crested dogs all have different scramblings of these traits.

“Teddy bears”: Havanese! Such better health and temperament for all the same desired traits.

Boxador: Many of the bully mixes overpopulating shelters check this one’s boxes! But good breeds depending on what you’re looking for might be American bulldogs, Dogue de Bordeaux, field line labs, or even Irish setters.

Pomskies: Alaskan Klee Kais or American Eskimos! Both are what this mix is going for.

Aussiedoodle: Taking special time for this doodle to shine some light on mudik!

Puggles: Boston terriers! Hardier and more adventurous than a pug, more biddable and quieter than a beagle. Staffordshire bull terriers and border terriers are also good alternative breeds if you’re looking for more spunk and longer snout.

[wildergrimm]

Cerine Misra and Lawrence Wakefield: Walking Disasters

Well, at least one of them is. You choose which:

Cerine Misra - The Bashful Artist

A young woman, about 24 years of age. Her main profession is as an artist. She is known for her paintings and compositions, though her heart lies in her hobby as an essayist.

She has curly, dark hair, usually kept in a low ponytail, and charcoal eyes that always seem to shine with humor. Her dark complexion contrasts with her often light-colored clothing, which she tries her best to keep pristine. Try as she might, though, her weekly jaunts in the Flit usually don’t allow for that.

Her build is rather lean, but not quite like that of an athlete. She stands about 5’5” when she’s not trying to shrink into crowds, so, she usually seems a bit shorter.

Although she’s beginning to rise in society, Cerine sees herself as rather beneath many of her peers. Perhaps that has something to do with her Veilgarden past? I mean, what self-respecting social climber would belt bawdy tunes in salons on a nightly basis? Still, this feeling of hers manifests itself as a mild inferiority complex when she’s at gatherings or soirées. Otherwise, she’s rather charming. Her soft voice has been considered soothing by some (though this person may be biased, as she’s her wife), and she almost (almost!) never fails to be polite.

Cerine raises her glass to the Bohemians, and finds herself close with the Devils and Urchins of the Neath. She’s usually on the good side of Society, but only for professional purposes.

Lawrence Wakefield - The Mercurial Playwright

A young man of 27, Lawrence is the poster-boy for hedonistic trainwrecks. He’s a playwright, but only technically. Should you have the (dis)pleasure to read one of his scenes, you might...feel like you’ve read it before somewhere else. Only better. He isn’t proud of his “craft,” but has made no effort to change himself in any way for the past three years. So he’s stuck with himself. Probably one of his worst nightmares, to be honest.

Despite his efforts to seem dark and brooding, nothing about his demeanour could change his delicate features. His discerning hazel eyes peek out from a softly-curved face; his wavy ash-brown hair flops over his forehead in a way that reminds some of a cocker spaniel’s ears.

His clothing once was handsome, though now it looks cheap and—dear Lord—stained. Should he someday acquire enough money to buy a new shirt, even, perhaps he would.

I don’t mean to seem down on the man, though. He can be rather attractive. But like an impressionist painting, he does tend to seem better from afar. As long as you talk of nothing of importance, he’s a perfectly acceptable date. (That’s right, ladies and gents, he’s single. Can you believe it?)

[jellycatstuffies]

do you own any retired jellycats? are there any retired jellycats you wish you had?

I own a few retired Jellycats. Among them, Fuddlewuddle Bear Cub (retired 2016) which was the first retired Jellycat in my collection. There are so many retired Jellycats I wish I had! I think most of all right now I want  the Bashful Chambray Puppy followed by the Blue Patches Puppy, Bashful Spaniel and Fuddlewuddle Snow Leopard!

Bashful Chambray Puppy (retired 2017)