#give that thing big old paws even

[deityofhearts]

i think what dragons designs are lacking is paw pads. give that creature cute little paws and toe beans rn

[joonipertree]

Sugar Daddy Boxer! Bakugo Katsuki x college student gn!reader

Tags: Age gap! Bakugo is 27, reader is 22. fluff, protective bakugo, attentive bakugo, he's a boxer because I said so <3

Bro i finished this with my wrist bandaged up. The things I'd do for my anime men.

Pt 2. Pt 3

Feel free to send in requests/prompts for this AU!

"Babydoll."

....

"Babydoll."

You finally hummed, unwrapping the woollen scarf that pillowed your face. It did an amazing job to keep you warm in the cold abyss of the early morning winter but was useless in your boyfriend's heated sports car.

You let yourself unfurl, letting the warmth melt you.

"Did you sleep properly?"

"Yeah." you said with a yawn, ready to turn your brain off again.

"I'm gonna ask you how many hours and you're telling me the truth."

You made eye contact with Katsuki, who still hadn't left the front of your building mind you, and reached out for your morning kisses.

"First, answer then kisses."

You whined and squirmed before huffing into stillness when you realised he was too mean to give into you.

"Six hours."

Katsuki's already furrowed eyebrows furrowed even more but he leaned forward to kiss your puckered lips. They were warm and firm and tasted like strawberry chapstick. And the hint of your cologne wafted through you, making you sigh into him.

Katsuki tugged your lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it before letting go and kissing the corner of your lips.

"We agreed on eight, baby."

"I was doing my homework, silly."

"Was this before or after your fanfiction reading time?"

You grinned, pawing at his chest as you leaned in for another chaste kiss.

"Look at you learning, old man. It was before."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, squeezing your thigh with his rough hand before finally deciding to start the car.

"Where do you wanna get breakfast from? You're not getting a coffee, by the way."

"Excuse m---"

"Nuh uh, little one." Katsuki looked at you with an eyebrow raise. "You didn't sleep as much as you should've and it already makes you jittery."

You crossed your arms and huffed, burying yourself deeper into the leather. And you knew that you'd just say something stupid and get yourself in even more trouble, so your mouth stayed shut. Katsuki didn't bother asking again, already knowing that there was a chocolate croissant and Acai bowl that had you hooked.

He made his way into the store quickly, your body not ready to get out to the fanged monster that the winter brought. And it meant you got the wonderful opportunity to see people actively stare at your boyfriend.

It didn't matter when he didn't even bother making eye contact, hands deep in his pockets and resting bitch face on. Two boys came up to him in an excited manner that wasn't fit for early morning. And while Bakugo scowled harder, he still had the courtesy to give them his autograph. You knew that if they weren't highschool students, he'd tell them to fuck off. Bakugo never became aggressive with kids.

Once the order was handed to him, he slipped the tip into the jar at the counter. And since the man never carried change, the barista's face had twisted into shell shock. But Bakugo didn't even acknowledge it and left the premises, making his way back to you.

You were handed the croissant and Acai bowl, nose filling with pleasant scents that warmed you even further into the seat. Katsuki took a sip of his black coffee before handing you your own cup.

"It's very much decaf but I know you like your caramel macchiato."

You squealed at the gesture, not surprised that he was soft for you, and leaned in to give a big wet smooch to his cheek. His smile was evident, even when he tried to keep it hidden.

"I need to stop spoiling you."

He never did.

By the time you'd finished your drink and croissant, your uni had come into view. And as always, some people eyed the Chevrolet Corvette that your boyfriend drove. black exterior glittering in the morning sun.

After a couple affectionate kisses littered across Bakugo's face and a very long kiss on the lips, you got out of your car in your sweats and puffer jacket.

Your friends were waiting by the entrance, having come at the same time, they greeted you while eyeing the car. They knew it belonged to your boyfriend but they never knew what your boyfriend even did to be sports car rich.

"Hello, my children," You muttered out, blinking slowly as you put your scarf over your nose.

"Hey, dude. How did your--" One of your friends began to talk to you while you all walked to class. But after a good fifteen steps, you heard someone call your name.

"Oi." The gruff voice filled your ears.

The three of you turned around and your friends had been left bamboozled.

Because lo and behold, Bakugo Katsuki had graced them with his presence.

The man just held up a green canvas bag, his finger being the only thing to hold the straps. You gasped and ran to grab it, making sure to check the contents as if afraid that you forgot to put your precious artwork before you left your apartment.

"Thank you thank you thank you, 'suki." You muttered, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose and mouth. You had to put your hand on rock hard muscle to stabilise yourself and the pressure didn't effect him one bit. He just cupped your face and deepened the kiss before placing one on your forehead.

"Stop being a dumbfuck and sleep on time. And show me what you made when I pick you up."

Bakugo started going back to his car, not caring for the stares your friends were throwing at him. They were chill, so he's heard. Katsuki was too anti social to get first hand experience.

"My guy."

When you turned, your guy friend had grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you vigorously.

"Your rich fucking boyfriend is a WBA fighter. Dude!"

"Yeah!! He's super cool right?"

"He's a fucking god but that's besides the point." Your friend looked more and more erratic.

"Yeah and that god is giving you a death glare. Better get your hands off them, bro. You've seen the amount of blood his opponents lose." Your other friend interjected, already pulling him off of you. He looked pale.

You turned and saw Katsuki stand like a statue, hands in his pockets and eyes hardened. His teeth were gritted which worried you since he already had a bad jaw. Students were swerving away like two rivers, his body like a jagged mountain in the middle.

Your double thumbs up and wide grin was the only thing that broke him out of his stance, shoulders relaxing and jaw releasing from its hold. Katsuki scanned the two men for a few more seconds before he turned and left with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to breathe properly all day."

You turned with a skip in your step, happy to have seen your boyfriend for a few extra seconds in the morning.

"He's like a doberman. Such a cutie pie."

"I feel like that's an accurate description considering he would bite our heads off but only let you pet him."

"I see no cuteness in that man."

[koiir]

꒰͡ ⠀ . ANOTHER GUY? ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis; When they meet the other guy in the relationship (your dog) for the first time! How do they act? Or rather, how does your dog act?

Gojo, nanami, megumi, yuji, yuta x gn!reader

Notes. Based on how possessive my little Aussie is whenever any guys are around me…(he’s a year old) . Not proofread . Fluff . Crack

SATORU G.

• First of all, he had seen your dog before you two got together. And let’s just say, he was not a fan of your dog. But maybe now that would have changed! Since you know, you love your dog and Gojo had stolen your heart! So they both have similarities right?

“The hell? Why does your dog keep trying to attack me!”

When he first entered through the door way, your dog instantly started to growl. It gets even worse when gojo tries to wrap his arms around you, cause your dog goes ballistic.

“I already told you idiot! It’s cause you keep trying to touch me and he doesn’t like that!”

Your dog is the one being held, not him! Why must he suffer just for you to be happy? The dog is rather cute, but what isn’t is how you fluff his hair up and give him little peaks all while he’s watching. Are you seriously that evil?

The little creature just won’t give in, and it’s like he’s doing it on purpose. Licking your face, cuddling with you, doing all the things gojo should be doing. (Maybe not the licking part) your dog even has his paw on your thigh!

“Does he always do that?”

“I literally told you that before we arrived.”

“My bad I thought you were joking.”

Most definitely rolls his eyes saying that.

The rest of day, his tries to play with your dog although he makes its worse since your near and the dog is already in extra protective mode.

Though since he is gojo…he did crack the system! Took him three hours to do so.

When you leave to get something, gojo sees that dog stop with his schemes and relax? Nahh you’re dog definitely got shy without you.

“Oh? Not so confident now I see.”

For the small 20 minutes you’re gone, the dog has seem to take a liking to him! Although slightly worried, the dog at least let gojo pet him now without any hesitation.

When you get back, you’re meet the sight of your boyfriend holding your dog up gushing on him like he’s his own dog.

“I see you two got along.”

“Of course we did! We both love the same person after all.”

It seems as though your dog can hear now, cause he jumps off of gojo and holds his ground near you as he growls at him once more.

This is definitely gonna take a while.

KENTO N.

• let’s be for real, your dog would love nanami no questions asked. He could already tell that the fellow gentleman to you is worthy of not being barked at! Though a little superstitious but that’s just because he’s meeting someone new.

“You can pet him you know…”

“You told me though that he barks at others near you, so I’m not taking my chances.”

“Weird though…he’s not barking or growling. Especially since your so close to me.”

You nudge nanami a bit playfully and he looks to you, seeing a soft smile on your face. He sighs softly before giving in and crouching down, your dog stays in it’s position although he starts to move, sniffing nanami’s hand. And then he licks it!

He’s a little taken aback, but the little gasp in your voice makes him melt seeing you so delighted that your dog looks him. Nanami then places his hand back on the dogs head after seeing those big eyes of his. (Similar to how he can’t say no to you when you give him that look)

You are most definitely pleased when nanami seems to have taken a soft spot for your dog, as time passes, he’s offered to walk your dog and even along the way buys him treats! Isn’t he just so caring?

Your dog can right next to you and will gladly let nanami stick close by, even going as far as holding your hand or his arms around you! It only warms your heart more when your dog sits beside him now.

After a couple days, Nanami ask you if he can take your dog out. He won’t say it outright, but it’s obvious to one that nanami has gained a liking to the little dog and caring for it as such. Walks around town with a cute dog by his side, contrasting to his intimidating present.

Quite the sight for sore eyes.

MEGUMI F.

• To be honest, it was a 50/50 in your mind. Animals in general liked megumi already, and he’s caring to them more than he is to most people. But you still hold a little doubt that your dog might view him as a threat since you know, you two are together. So why not see and get the answer you need?

It’s like the two are having a stare down, megumi looks down at your dog, and your dog stares at him with his ears up and alerted. Their eyes bore into the others and you feel almost uncomfortable. It’s like they’re speaking to eachother through the mind!

“The dog doesn’t seem to like me.”

His voice settled out the atmosphere as your dog has his ears dropped down, you can hear a little hint of melancholy in megumi voice. His lip is pulled into a frown but it’s almost natural, though you know too well that megumi is feeling a little disappointed. Especially for the care love, he holds for animals.

“I don’t think so exactlyy, I mean, he’s not growling. Especially since you’re pretty close to me.”

You lean closer into megumi which makes him startled a bit before he relaxes, he sees how your dog seems almost distant.

“Is he scared of me?”

“I don’t think so? Hold up…”

You move towards your dog as you pick him up, and megumi feels his heart swell at seeing your dog lick your face. He can definitely tell your dog cherishes you a lot.

You stand next to him once more, and the little dog looks even cuter up close. Though megumi is not going to admit that. The dog sniffs his clothes before moving his nose closer to his cheek. This isn’t exactly new, it’s similar in the way you do your fleeting cheek kisses to tease him or how his shikigami will act towards him.

“See? He just wanted to be closer to you.”

Your voice is quite as if cherishing this moment, it feels as though the proximity is making megumi flush. His head moves closer to the dog, and his hand meets the soft fur of the dog in your hands.

“Can I hold him?”

You hum out as you position your dog into his arms, megumi already knows how to hold the dog and tried to be as gentle as he possibly can. Seeing him so determined to make the dog feel at ease makes your heart pound, the soft spot megumi has for animals one you will always cherish.

Eventually, you two moved onto the couch and it seems as though megumi can’t get tired of holding your dog. He plays with him some, rubs his belly some, and once your dog gets tired, he uses megumi as bed for his rest.

“Looks like you won’t be able to move for a while huh?”

“Yeah…seems so.”

I think if you asked, he might be a little hesitant to bring out his demon dogs to meet the pup. Though one day you get lucky enough to see the three interact and megumi watching guard. Though you can tell he’s watching to see this moment for his own being, and a little smile can be seen on his face.

YUJI I.

• ultimate protective mode! Though he won’t say. Since you’ve told him how your dog can get, he hasn’t exactly been super affectionate with you because he feels as though your dog is going to to jump him. “He just might!” He tells you, and you can’t really deny it. Tries to act tough though when outside the door, but when it’s opened and he sees your dog, he becomes a little anxious.

“I think your dog already hates me…”

“Cmonnn it’s been one minute! Nothing has happened!”

“Yet.”

Yuji keeps his distance, it’s almost as if he has this invisible gear on to help protect himself from the little critter. The dog stares at yuji, and gets up from its place and walks towards him. Yuji looks to you, and then the dog, then he feels the dog sniff him.

“Hey little guy…”

Yuji thinks he’s safe, so he crouches down and tries to pet the dog although the dog did not appreciate his actions, biting his hand lightly while backing up.

“The hell?! He just bit me! Look!”

You try and not laugh, but yuji makes a distressed face as he moves towards you. Another big mistake.

“Yuji wait-“

Too late it seems, cause your dog just latched onto yujis pants making the boy gasp out…

“This bitch! I swear, why do you have him as a pet! He’s a little demon!”

“Yuji! Don’t say that he’s only a couple months old!”

Very not cool. Especially when you pick up your dog cooing at him to stop but turn a blind eye when he gives you those big dog eyes. Yuji watches as he makes a big huff in return.

Though, it’s not like your dog won’t ever warm up to yuji. In fact, he’s made it his mission to get your dog to like him as much as possible! After all, he wants your dog to like him enough so he can cuddle you when hes around.

A day is spent with your dog and yuji at the park as the have little runs together, where yuji learns that your dog is rather shy in public and around new people. Thus sticking close to him and allowing yuji to be affectionate with him.

The day yuji has achieved the best reward of all, is the day he can walk into your home and greet you with a hug without your dog barking. Your dog still sticks close by, but in regards for Yuji arriving.

Though it took some time, yuji comes to realize him and your dog are rather similar. In the aspect that both boys swear to protect you whenever they are around.

YUTA O.

• boy is nervous as hell to meet your dog, especially when you tell him your dog is quite protective over you and will bark or growl at those who are close to you. Which makes it hard for him since he’s rather clingy…but yuta tries to stay positive as he thinks of the possibility of trying to get your dog to like him. It breaks his heart if he can’t be able to get along with the dog you love so much.

“Yutaaa, come closer! I’m holding him so he can’t do that much if he doesn’t like you!”

Yuta can’t help but have a pout, though the need to be closer to you is killing him. He moves closer, and to his disappointment, your dog starts growling.

“Well…I don’t think that’s such a good sign.”

He sheepishly rubs at his neck and looks down, he sees you look saddened at this since yuta is just so sweet! How could your dog growl at him first meet?

Yuta can tell you’re trying so hard to get your dog to warm up to him, though your dog just can’t help but growl at yuta whenever he tries and calmly pet him.

“[name], it’s fine really! We can always try this another time!”

“But yuta!”

He tries to laugh it off, but inside he’s rather sad at this moment. Especially when your dog can cuddle with you and he has to watch from afar. Is this how it feels to be unloved?

With the hatred that he is dealing with from your dog, yuta can only try and help ease his way into your dogs heart. So thus trying to get to know the dog one on one!

At first, he kinda panicked with making sure he didn’t hurt your dog at all. Boy was so nervous when putting on his collar cause he thought your dog would bite him:( but your dog in fact did not. Instead, yuta spends the day with the little dog walking and learning how intelligent your dog is. He finds it amusing and feels content with the experience of today.

“Soooo, how’d it go?”

The boy walks in like a shining star as he smiles at you and then the dog next to him, yuta can only blush as he sees you.

“Good! At least I hope so…”

The fact that he still doubts himself makes you giggle a bit, before you feel the dip of the bed with yuta pulling you close and the dog jumping up with the two of you. The fact that it’s only been a day and your dog has completely changed around yuta actually surprised you. Though at least you can be affectionate with yuta now around him.

Yuta cradles the dog in his arms and the sight makes your heart clench, seeing him so happy with your dog is a miracle to you honestly.

“It’s like he’s our little child..”

Oh. That definitely had you alright.

a/n: idk why this turned out so long….personally I love megumis

[kotoku]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ - ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ

synopsis - after making a decision, you pack up the last of the things your dear companion needs in the trunk. with your new friend secured carefully, you drive back home to organize all the new stuff you bought into your guest bedroom. hopefully they are liking their new home so far.

⋆˚🐾˖°

It had taken a bit of walking back and forth but you finally settled–

–on one of the doves! You wanted to adopt Sunday and his sister, Robin, but someone had already reserved her. ˙◠˙

With a grunt, you loaded the trunk with the cage, food, toys, and other necessities that would ensure Sunday’s comfort. He was placed in a little carrier with wide holes to breathe and see through, big enough to freely move around as you secured him in your passenger's seat. 

Throughout your drive home, you could hear him pacing around in his carrier. Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you would glance at him every now and then. You were starting to get worried about him, not wanting to cause a lot of stress for him on his first day in his new home. 

When you finally reached your house, you quickly unloaded your car and brought him in, careful to not tussle the box. 

Your home was pretty big but cozy. You had a guest room in case any of your friends were to come over, and two bathrooms, one being part of your room. Lucky you. You had decided on making the guest room Sunday’s new room so that he could fly around freely. 

Constructing the cage was pretty easy, it had a large space with some perches and toys for him to entertain himself with when he wasn’t flying around outside. You hoped he would like it. 

Carefully, you placed the box inside and opened it, closing the cage door so he wouldn’t fly out in a panic and hurt himself. 

“Sunday? You can come out now, I have your new home set up.” You watched as the dove slowly inched his way out, head tilting in different directions as he observed the area. You already left some food and water for him, organizing the rest into containers with a corresponding label. 

“Liking your new home?” You stared curiously as he climbed the walls of the cage, staring at you. Hesitant to move your finger towards him, you decided to show him your hands from a distance. “I’m much bigger than you but I hope you aren’t too scared of me, Sun.”

The dove had only continued to observe you before settling onto a perch, puffing his feathers out with his head tucked between his wings. Seems like he was ready to sleep.

With a chuckle, you brought out a blanket to cover his cage so he wouldn’t get frightened by any passing lights outside. With a soft ‘goodnight’, you closed the door gently and walked back towards your own room. 

—on a small, blond Norwegian Forest cat who had unique eyes. They were an extraordinary color, one you have never seen before with cats. Questioning the old lady about this, she could only give you a shrug, saying that he was rescued from an abusive home that adopted him from a breeder, so it could’ve been the breeder’s doing. 

Hearing of his past pained you, fueling your determination to give him a loving home.

Along with Aventurine, you bought him his necessities. Litter, cat food, a brush, etc… You even got him a collar, one that was quite pricey but glamorous, living up to his name. 

He was in his crate, his small body curled up as he peeked through the openings. Sometimes you’d put your finger near the holes for him to smell, his paw poking out as if reaching for you.

The lady had already filled you in on his vet details and history, providing you the necessary paperwork as you signed your consent. It was official, Aventurine was now adopted by you and placed in your care. 

“Please be gentle with him, he can be quite the troublemaker but he’s also a sweetheart. Come again soon!” With a wave goodbye, you brought his crate to the car which already had all his things in. 

The ride home was pretty quiet, it seems like Aventurine isn’t much of a talker. You smiled, finding his shyness adorable.

After you had put all of his things away into a guest bedroom, you opened his crate, watching as he slowly got out to stretch. He sniffed the area before cautiously walking towards you, smelling your out-reached hand before backing off, continuing to wander. 

You’d figured it would take some time before he got used to you. Standing up from your kneeling position, you started walking towards your room.

“I’ll leave the doors open for you to explore, Aven.” Of course, you left the bathroom doors closed, not wanting him to make a mess out of the toilet paper in there. You thought about the kitchen and living room, but there was nothing too dangerous for him to get into, so you let it slide. 

Cracking your door ajar, you crawled into bed, already changed into your pajamas. 

“Night, Aventurine.” You called out, hearing his footsteps pitter-patter against the hardwood floor. 

You hoped he would like it here.

—on a violet-blue ring-necked parakeet named Veritas Ratio. An odd name, but from what the lady had told you, it seemed pretty fitting.

“Veritas is an intelligent bird who requires much stimulation otherwise he’d get bored easily. He’s a bit standoffish, but he’ll warm up to you eventually.” 

…You were a bit nervous, but you were determined to build a bond with him. Birds have always fascinated you with their intellect and colors, their trust often being hard to obtain as they are both cautious and observant. When you were standing in front of Veritas’ enclosure, you made sure to read all the details and information about their breed so you knew what you were getting into. 

‘You’ve owned birds before, this wouldn’t be new,’ you thought to yourself, carrying Veritas to your car. The old lady was kind enough to walk you back to your car with all the necessities you needed, holding the bird food and toys while you carried the heavier things. 

After packing everything in, you secured Veritas in the passenger seat and started up your car, driving out of the parking lot and into the direction of your home. 

Every now and then, you would hear him flutter his wings, most likely stretching them as the carrier allowed him sufficient room to do so. It wouldn’t be long before you parked in your house’s garage, moving everything inside the guest room upstairs before bringing Veritas in. You could see him peeking through the holes, trying to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

“Let me set up your cage first and then you can come out, okay?” Setting him down beside you, you quickly got to work on building the cage, arranging some toys and perches for him. Once you were satisfied, you refilled his food and water bowl before picking up his carrier and opening it to let him walk inside. 

Veritas cautiously got out of the carrier, head tilting from side to side as he observed the cage. His eyes were pinning his surroundings, curiously walking around and climbing up the cage walls so he could sit on a perch. He turned his head to the right so he could get a good look at you.

“Hello.”

You slightly jumped in your spot, startled by the sudden greeting. You didn’t know he could talk, he was relatively quiet when you were in the store and during the car ride! Is he slowly warming up to you?

“Uh– hello! Welcome to your new home, do you..like it?” You felt a bit awkward talking to a bird, not really expecting any other answers from him.

“...”

Veritas didn’t say anything else, only continuing to look at you before he started grooming himself. You sighed, a bit relieved to see that he was comfortable and not stressed in his new home.

“I’m gonna head back to my room now, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Getting up from your spot on the ground, you draped a small blanket over his cage before turning off the lights. With a final goodnight, you gently closed the door with a ‘click!’, walking back to your room and flopping onto your bed with a sigh. 

–on a border collie named Boothill! He was quite energetic, sniffing all around you before sitting in front of your feet, staring up at both you and the old lady. 

“Boothill is a very protective dog, always following their owner and basically accompanying them during every task. He’s a sweet little fella, I’m sure you’ll love him.” The old lady gave Boothill a small pat on the head, offering the leash to you. 

“Here you are, young one.” 

Taking the leash from the old lady’s hands, Boothill immediately sat up and started dragging you around the store.

“B-Boothill! Where are you going??” You yelped, tripping over your feet as he sniffed around the aisles. He sat in front of a particular shelf, one full of dog treats. Ah, did he like a specific brand? 

Grabbing the one he was looking at the most, you read the label and ingredients out loud to yourself. The old lady had popped up next to you after you finished reading it, an apologetic smile on her face. 

“Sorry about that, Boothill can also be a little bit of a troublemaker.” She adjusted her glasses, looking down towards Boothill with a chuckle. “You naughty fella, don’t be too hard on your owner okay?”

Boothill barked in response, glancing up at you with his piercing red and gray eyes. He almost seemed to be making puppy eyes at you…

“I’ll get you this treat if it makes you happy, then.” You smiled, tucking the bag underneath your arm. You walked around the store with a small cart the lady had offered you, pulling different necessities off the shelves and putting them in the cart as Boothill strolled next to you. 

After paying for everything and getting all the documents you needed, you led Boothill towards your car and packed everything inside the trunk. He immediately jumped in the backseat, laying down as you buckled up and started the engine. 

“We aren’t too far from home, but be careful back there okay?” You glanced at him through your rear-view mirror, making sure he was comfortable before pulling out of the parking lot.

It took a while to move everything inside, but eventually, you had his little room all set up with his food and water. You let him roam around your backyard for a bit in case he needed to use the restroom, but he just came back to you after smelling around the fences and shrubs. Guess he was just getting used to his surroundings.

“Everything is set up in here, but I’ll leave my door open if you need anything.” You spoke, looking down at him as he sat beside your legs. You gave him a couple pets, moving to turn off the bedroom light before going to your own room. 

Unsurprisingly, he trotted after you, hopping onto your bed and kneading the comforter until he was satisfied. Chuckling, you pulled back the comforter and made yourself comfortable in your bed, feeling Boothill’s warmth near your feet. 

“Goodnight Boothill.” 

You heard a huff in response. 

⋆˚🐾˖°

taglist - @vash-yuu

[hotheadedhero]

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AN: I have so many stories to write but I had to do this. Blaming being sick, m'kay? Fever has got me bad and these meds got me loopy. Thinking we need some good, silly fun in our lives, right? Plus, now that I've watched Rise, I'm hungry for some big Raph appreciation. I know I ain't the only one

Part 2

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: near peril, easily smitten, possible errors due to fever (what kind of fever is up for deliberation🥴)

Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes. That doesn't necessarily mean muscles, either. You just love you a big man - someone with a bit of something-something to them. More to love, you know? Given your track record with the greater world, it shouldn't be all that much of a mystery. Cats? Get yourself a tiger that you can cuddle into. Jumpers? Comfort central, baby. Beds? If you can't spread eagle then you see no point. The old-age saying does declare that the bigger the better, so who are you to disagree? How true that is may be up for debate but it’s merely as simple as understanding what your preferences are.

However, this makes dating a difficult ballpark to play in. No matter how tall, jacked, or voluptuous someone is, it never feels like enough. Human biology and genetics can only go so far in the conceivably possible sense. You just want to be absolutely engulfed when you get a hug. Is that such a crime? Apparently, it is. Unfortunately, you also seem to come across the worst jerks when you attempt to date within this set of criteria. One might argue it's your karmic justice for being so superficial and picky but a woman has needs. Not those kinds of needs, either. Get your head out of the gutter.

All hope seems lost and after yet again, another failed date, you decide to call it in for the evening and make your way home. A fresh failure and another wonderful outfit gone to waste. By no means is it anything flashy but you put a lot of work into it: pencil skirt, turtle neck sweater, and a nice pair of boots to compliment the look. The whole shebang! All of that effort for nothing. This is the last time you spend three hours doing your hair and makeup. Block after block, your feet grow heavier with every step. What you would give to come across a mountain-like man you can climb who is also a kindred spirit. Perhaps this dream guy will forever be that - a dream. Men like that don't just fall out of the sky.

"Look out!!"

The sudden shout almost scares you into tripping over and you look behind yourself, wishing you hadn’t. Two very large, very dangerous-looking figures entangled in battle, those of which are approaching your helpless little self. You quickly duck as the giants hurdle over you. One falls on its side whilst the other claws and skids against the ground, regaining its balance. It shakes its head and locks onto you, a guttural snarl rumbling past its jowls. Such a creature is surely from the stuff of nightmares. An indescribable nightmare whose sights are set on you. The smart option would be running away but it's as though your shoes have melted into the pavement. Pawing into the tarmac, the beastly thing growls and lunges for you. Great. This is how you die: torn limb from limb by a demon dog. Well, assuming your clothes join you, at least you’ll look like a total babe in the afterlife.

"Oh no ya’ don't," the other one yells from behind the predator, grabbing it by its tail. “Pretty ladies are not food!”

With a mighty tug, he pulls it back and swings it as far away from you as possible. You release a shaky breath, legs trembling beneath you. That was far too close for comfort. The fight isn’t quite over, however. Just as it approaches him, the green goliath swivels on his feet, full 180, and whacks the creature's jaw with a closed fist. His speed alone has you in awe but the force is astounding, practically earth-shattering. It completely knocks the air around you and pushes you onto your backside.

When the dust clears, the first thing you see is your saviour panting, his spiky shell(?) pointed towards you. Just past him in the distance, you notice three more figures in blue, purple, and orange taking a closer look at the unconscious tyrant. You swear one of them pokes at it with a stick. Witnessing strange beings such as this isn't entirely new. Anyone who's watched Chateau Pretenche knows about the celebrity chef turning into a grotesque pigman. To describe it in one word? Horrifying. It's just whether people choose to believe it genuinely happened or if these bizarre entities exist. Being up close and personally observing it now puts your scepticism in check.

As the humanoid turtle calms, he turns to face you, recapturing your attention. A red mask sits over his eyes and there’s a noticeable snaggle tooth poking past his upper lip. Typically, the prerogative is keeping out of sight but it’s much too late for that. He gradually advances towards you. You watch him warily and he keeps his movements slow for that very reason. It wouldn’t be a shock if you were to try and make an escape. He wouldn’t blame you. Currently, all he wants to do is make sure you weren’t hurt during that fiasco provided you don’t suddenly come out of your bewilderment and run off. You have good reason to but he just saved you. Either that or he’s as ravenous as that beast and wants you all to himself. The irrational conclusion remains as such - irrational - when he descends to one knee and outstretches a hand. There’s an irrefutable kindness in his eyes; a caring nature that can’t be replicated in the face of savage brutes.

"You okay?" he asks.

You continue to gawk without a word but, bit by bit, you reach out for his offer. Your fingers lightly trace the centre of his palm before comfortably trusting the proposal. His hand engulfs yours completely and Raph hopes to mercy that you don’t realise how sweaty he’s getting. He can feel his heart beating like crazy. He wonders how much of that is the adrenaline from the fight and how much of it is being in the presence of such a beautiful gal. As he helps you to your feet, he rises to his own. Someone of his stature shouldn’t be capable of being this delicate but he is. It has you running through a loop and you unintentionally stare at the remarkable behemoth.

Quite pathetically, you nod, unable to verbally respond to his question. How can you? You are effectively starstruck. Once you gloss over the turtle-y features, all you see is the sheer size of him as he towers over you. Height, width, the magnitude of those arms! All of it is glorious. You can hear the universe asking, “You want a big man, huh? How about one who isn’t human?” to which you answer, “Who gives a damn?”. If the only way a man can be this big is not to be human, so be it.

Amidst a whisper, your mouth moves on its own, "You're beautiful."

"What?"

"Huh?" Blinking out of your trance, you realise what you’ve said and giggle sheepishly, "I mean, you're be... ba... booming! Totally awesome with the whole- uh... saving thing." Nailed it. 

He blinks right back down at you. This is certainly a first. He can feel his face heating up and he withdraws his hand lest you endure the wrath of his bashfulness, opting to hold the back of his head. At this moment, he seems to look anywhere but you.

"Heh. Gee, thanks." His humility is adorable and you’re glad he doesn’t question your initial statement. He turns to you once more, regaining some composure. "You sure you're okay, though? That thing was pretty scary looking."

It’s clear that you haven’t sustained any physical injuries but even bearing witness to something so unsightly can have lasting effects on one's mind. His brows furrow gently in concern down at you and it occurs to you that there’s a soft heart under all of that shell and muscle. Bonus points. This makes you smile for the first time in front of him and Raphael is sure that the streetlights got brighter.

You laugh fondly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Twiddling your fingers, your lips purse up in his direction.  “Is there any way I can repay you?”

He places his hands on his hips and chuckles cutely, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

He may be indulging in his alter ego - the Red Angel of Preventing Harm - but it’s not every day he gets paid thanks when he saves someone. It’s also not every day he gets to save such a pretty woman, either. You, however, can’t just leave it at that. There must be some way in which you can properly thank him. Ulterior motives include getting to know this already loveable lug better but shh. It feels like the odds are finally turning in your favour and you won’t let this slip away from your grasp. That’s when it hits you.

Muttering under your breath, you erratically search through the confines of your little handbag. You are certain that you had one in here somewhere. In the spare pocket maybe? Ah! Found it. Fumbling to take the lid off of your pen, you hold out your hand, gesturing for his. He slowly complies, to which you jot down a series of digits on his palm accompanied by your name and a tiny 'x'. 

"Gimme a text sometime," is the last thing he hears before you disappear around a corner.

Oh? Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Getting your number is the last thing he expected. Did he get hit on the head during that scuffle or something? Was everything from the last few minutes a dream? He bores holes into the writing on his skin, scanning it over and over, scared that it’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. A dumb, wobbly smile not so gracefully decorates his lips as he trudges back to the turtle tank. He takes his seat but it’s obvious that he isn’t all there. Being so caught up in his rose-tinted bubble, he doesn’t register his brothers' voices. In an effort to gain his attention, Michelangelo jumps onto his shoulder, partly intrigued by what their leader is so absorbed by.

"Oh me gosh!” the young brother screams in shrill excitement, “Raph's in love!"

Careful not to smudge the neat ink, he’s quick to hide his hand against his chest. "That's crazy talk!”

Donatello sniffs the air and mockingly covers his nose. "The overwhelming manifestation of your nervous stink indicates otherwise, dear brother."

"I got a girl’s number!” he continues to defend, feeling his face go all kinds of red. “'Course, I'm nervous but that don’t mean I’m in love."

Lies and slander. It was practically love at first sight. He just doesn’t like the idea of his brothers knowing that. It’s easy pickings to be made fun of.

"Don't worry, Big Red. Lucky for you, you got a guy who knows all about the charm." Leonardo points both thumbs at himself as he falls back into his seat and props his legs up on the dashboard. "First, you just need to..."

The "helpful" advice drowns out as the large snapper opens and gazes at his palm again. He just can't comprehend how a gorgeous individual such as yourself could take one look at him and give him your number. It's puzzling but he supposes there’s a first for everything? That also doesn't mean he won't text you. The only thing getting in the way of that is fear. Raphael thinks he’d rather go toe-to-toe with that mutant dog again than have to face the risk of embarrassing himself. To anyone who knows him, it’s no surprise that he caves under pressure. No. He will do it! A chance like this is one in a million.

Oh boy. What could possibly go wrong?

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before (Y/N) even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” (Y/N) shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” (Y/N) sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty was checking over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[cosmic-spider]

Jax x bunny reader

He was surprised to see that someone else arrived in the digital as a rabbit. But is kinda glad he’s not the only one.

If your shorter than him prepare to be called shorty or little bun a lot. If you have floppy ears or droopy ears. He will play with them and lift them up and down to another you.

If you have a opening in your clothes for your tail. He will “ complement” it. By saying nice little tail/ cute tail. Especially if it wages when your happy.

Will sometimes look at your but no mater if it’s round, big, or flat. Since the little bunny tail complements it. ( will not admit to looking at your ass if you ask or catch him in the act)

If your a fluffy bunny don’t mind him just petting you or playing with your ears. As he feels all the fluff fur you have.

He on the other hand hates it when you pet him and give him the same treatment. As if saying that your the only one that can be pet and treated as a cute little bunny.

One time that you both had a sleep over he took of his gloves. You saw that he had paw beans and a lot more fluffy fur on his paws. You had his paws in you face for as long as you could while he was trying to get his hands back.

Later on when the two of you date he will make it very clear that you are taken. To the there’s and the newbie that come. But always being close to you. Holding your hand or having his hand around your waist.

If the other still dose t get the point he will flat out calm you his little bun, or darling. Then give you a kiss and look at the embarrassed/ humiliated face of the there. With a big old smirk

The moment the two of you got together the rooms of everyone changes there position. Since your room was a good four rooms to the left of Jax’s.

But now after the rooms changed both of you have your rooms right next to each other. There was even a hidden door that connected both of your rooms. ( That Jax’s only knows about.)

Later own when your relationship went a few levels higher. He would sometimes call you his wife and if you could have kids would the rabbit/ bunny multiple kid thing happen or will you have only one.

[angelfoxx]

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

[awkward-walking-potato]

Claws, Whiskers, and Paws

Sequel to Claws and Whiskers

Who can resist Logan and a puppy.

Wolverine x reader

Please send me some requests or ideas for more Logan or other X men

It had been a few months since Scratch had wormed his way into Logan’s heart. You could hardly believe how much things had changed since the day you brought that scrappy tabby home. Logan and Scratch had become inseparable, often lounging on the couch together or sharing breakfast in the mornings. You couldn’t help but smile at how your tough, no-nonsense boyfriend had grown so attached to the little furball.

But you’d always had a soft spot for animals, and lately, you’d been thinking about expanding your little family. So, one afternoon, while Logan was out, you made a decision that you hoped wouldn’t backfire.

You arrived home with a small, energetic puppy—a golden retriever mix with big brown eyes and a wagging tail that could melt anyone’s heart. The shelter staff had told you he was about six months old, full of energy and love. You thought he would make the perfect addition to your home.

Scratch, however, didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm. The moment you walked through the door with the puppy in tow, Scratch’s eyes widened in what you could only describe as feline disbelief. The cat was perched on the back of the couch, his usual spot, but now his tail was flicking back and forth with clear annoyance.

“Scratch, meet Buddy,” you said cheerfully, setting the puppy down. Buddy, all wagging tail and wiggling body, trotted over to Scratch, his little nose twitching as he tried to get a good sniff of his new feline friend.

Scratch, however, was having none of it. He let out a low, warning hiss, his ears flattening against his head as he glared at the puppy. Buddy, undeterred, just barked happily, his tail wagging even faster.

“Oh, come on, Scratch, give him a chance,” you pleaded, scooping up the puppy before Scratch could swat at him. “He’s just a baby. You’ll get used to him.”

Scratch looked at you with what could only be described as feline indignation, then jumped down from the couch and strutted off to the bedroom, tail held high. Clearly, he was not pleased with the new addition.

You sighed, carrying Buddy into the living room and setting him down on the floor. “Don’t worry, Buddy. Scratch will come around. He just needs time.”

The puppy looked up at you with those big, trusting eyes, his tail still wagging as if he had no idea what had just happened. You gave him a reassuring pat on the head, hoping you were right.

Logan came home a few hours later, his boots thudding heavily on the floor as usual. The moment he walked through the door, Buddy bounded over to him, barking excitedly and jumping up on his legs. Logan froze, staring down at the small, wriggling ball of fur that was now trying to climb up his jeans.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, his tone a mix of surprise and something that sounded suspiciously like amusement.

“That,” you said, coming out of the kitchen with a grin, “is Buddy. Our new puppy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking from you to the puppy and back again. “A dog? You brought home a dog?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I thought it would be nice to have a dog around, you know? For some balance. Plus, I couldn’t resist those eyes.”

Logan glanced down at Buddy, who was now trying to chew on his bootlace. He let out a low chuckle, bending down to scoop the puppy into his arms. “Yeah, I can see why.”

Buddy licked at Logan’s face, his tail wagging furiously as he squirmed in Logan’s arms. Logan scratched behind the puppy’s ears, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright, I guess he’s not so bad.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Logan was taking the new addition in stride. “Scratch, on the other hand, isn’t too thrilled,” you admitted, glancing toward the bedroom where the cat had disappeared earlier.

Logan snorted. “I bet. That cat’s got enough attitude for both of us. He’ll come around.”

Over the next few days, the dynamics in the household shifted. Scratch continued to keep his distance from Buddy, watching the puppy’s antics with a mix of disdain and wariness. Buddy, for his part, seemed to think Scratch was the best thing ever, constantly trying to play with him or follow him around.

One evening, you were sitting on the couch with Logan, watching TV while Buddy chewed on a toy at your feet. Scratch was perched on the windowsill, pretending to be indifferent, but you noticed how his eyes followed the puppy’s every move.

Logan leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “You know, I think the little guy’s growing on me,” he said, nodding toward Buddy.

You smiled, leaning into him. “He’s pretty cute, huh?”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted, glancing down at the puppy. “He’s got spirit. I like that.”

As the evening wore on, you started to get ready for bed. Logan stayed in the living room, flipping through channels while Buddy curled up on his lap, completely content. Scratch, still on the windowsill, continued his vigil.

When you returned from brushing your teeth, the sight that greeted you made your heart melt. Logan was stretched out on the couch, fast asleep, with Buddy snuggled up on his chest. But the real surprise was Scratch, who had crept down from the windowsill and was now curled up on Logan’s shoulder, his head resting against Logan’s neck.

You couldn’t help but smile as you quietly grabbed your phone, snapping a quick picture of the three of them together. The tough, gruff Wolverine, sound asleep with a puppy on his chest and a cat on his shoulder—it was a sight you never thought you’d see, but one you would treasure forever.

As you slipped into bed, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Your little family—claws, whiskers, paws, and all—was just a bit bigger now, and your home felt warmer, filled with the quiet sounds of contentment.

In the end, it turned out that Logan’s gruff exterior wasn’t so different from Scratch’s wary attitude, or Buddy’s playful energy. They were all tough in their own way, but they had hearts big enough to find room for each other.

[lovelyhan]

kai… my love, my most beloved and precious kai.. imagine inflection point cheol pulling you into the locker room after his teammates leave to warm up so that he can fuck you against his locker because he says it brings him good luck before a game.. and while you’re watching him play, hannie notices that a little bit of cheols cum is dropping down your thigh so he pulls you into the bathroom of your private seating area and he fucks cheols cum back inside of you and then stuffs you with his cum as well.. and when cheol greets you after the game with sloppy kisses cause he needs to fuck the adrenaline of winning out he notices you’re full of more cum then he left you with and he gets all pouty because you and hannie went to fuck instead of watching him play (and maybe he decides to be mean to the both of you that night with rough sex that leaves you and hannie completely dumb and sore…)

(love from inflection points #1 fan)

SC & JH — 02:55

you're insane. you're crazy. why would you leave this here? have you thought about my wellbeing??????

warnings: established poly, mlm undertones, smut (MINORS DNI)

a request for the inflection point series!

even when you dated him the first time, you were well aware that choi seungcheol is nothing short of insane.

but for your multimillionaire athlete of a boyfriend to purposely stay behind when all his teammates were headed to the field for a reason like this?

honestly? you completely expected it.

"this pretty pussy's just what i needed, baby," seungcheol rasps into your ear as he drives his aching cock into you with ruthless precision. "my little good luck charm."

you respond with a moan muffled into the palm of your clammy hand as your boyfriend pounds you into the cool metal of the lockers. unfortunately for you, this isn't the first time seungcheol was shameless enough to lie to his team—saying that he needed to have a word with you first before catching up for pre-game warm-ups.

of course, none of the other boys bought their captain's lie. you could've sworn you heard mingyu bet on how long seungcheol is going to take this time with wonwoo, but that's besides the point, really.

"remember when you used to kiss me for good luck before my games back in high school?" he chuckles, mouthing at the curve of your neck.

"t-this...this isn't just kissing, cheol," you mewl when he sucks at the skin above your thrumming pulse, arching your back against the vertical surface behind you as seungcheol paws at your tits through an old jersey of his that you repurposed into a crop top. "hurry up! hannie's already waiting for me, you horny idiot!"

your walls squeeze around his length like a vice—your juices squelching with each pass into your tight cunt. neither of you have enough time to fool around whenever seungcheol gets in the mood for a quickie in the locker rooms, so it's a good thing your boyfriend knows you well enough to make you come in record time.

his cock slams into you even harder when he crushes his mouth back onto yours—swallowing your lovely little moans as heavy balls slap against your mound. your skirt's more than ruffled at this point, but you can't bring yourself to care when he fucks you so good.

"you're squeezing so tight around me, sweetheart," he sighs against your lips—eyes glazed with equal parts lust and adoration as he hooks both of your thighs across his elbows. "you can pretend all you want how much you're in a hurry, but your cunt's telling me another story. my baby wants me to take my sweet time stuffing her full, huh?"

his blatant display of strength is so fucking hot, the pleasure he's giving you merely intensifies. seungcheol smirks when he feels your pussy flutter around his length—loving the way your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull as he wrecks you in the name of good fortune.

"y-your cock's too big, cheolie," you mewl, biting your bottom lip to keep your moans from spilling out.

"too big? but weren't you the little minx who insisted that she could take me and jeonghan in her tiny pussy at the same time?" he taunts, quoting something you blurted out in a fucked out delirium sometime ago. "suddenly can't take it when i'm splitting you open anymore? what happened to all that spunk, baby?"

"quit stalling and just come inside me, jerk!"

seungcheol heaves another condescending laugh before pressing a firm kiss on your lips.

"gonna fill you up and you'll go sit right next to han during my game with your pussy dripping with my cum. make sure you don't waste a single drop, okay beautiful?"

you're far from your own release but it's the last thing on your mind when you're working on a time limit. nonetheless, you still preen at the feeling seungcheol twitch inside you before his thick cum gushes into your cunt in white hot spurts. you love it when he claims you like this—painting you in colors only he can mix together.

your athlete boyfriend does the honors of helping you put your underwear back on—making sure to pull the cotton taut against your ruined cunt to make you feel just how much he came inside you. the bastard even pats your pussy over the fabric with a sleazy smile.

"don't waste a drop, alright?"

"there you are."

jeonghan's relieved tone makes you a little guilty when he welcomes you to the private viewing deck he rented out in the stadium. while you typically enjoyed being surrounded by the defeating cheers of other onlookers in the stands, it's nice to have your own private space after what seungcheol just put you through.

"the game's about to start. i was starting to wonder where you ran off to this time." jeonghan pouts before helping you to your seat by the wide viewing glass.

you feel your face flush several shades darker, wondering if you did a good enough job at straightening yourself out in the restroom before hurrying over here. if jeonghan notices your internal distress, he doesn't show it.

today's game is a fundraiser of sorts for helping aspiring athletes who can't afford to go to prestigious sports universities in the country. the company that you and jeonghan work for is one of the main sponsors for the event, but even if it wasn't, you'd still be more than happy to watch one of seungcheol's games with him.

at least, that would be the case if you weren't squirming in your seat every ten seconds.

jeonghan, ever-so keen with your mannerisms, glances at you five minutes into the first half.

"you okay, sweetheart?" your boss-turned-boyfriend murmurs. "you're looking a little flushed. and sweaty. should i turn up the ac?"

you shake your head vigorously, pressing your thighs together as you hold back any lewd noises from the sensation of seungcheol's cum seeping out of your entrance. "n-no, i'm good, hannie. i'm just a little worn out from running all the way here."

the look on his face tells you he isn't convinced by your reasoning, but by the grace of whatever gods are out there, jeonghan lets it slide.

ten minutes in, your high-strung body is starting to cool down—the need for release that pulsed heavily in your core now subsiding into a dull ache. you manage to follow seungcheol's form around the field without wanting to kill him for leaving you high and dry.

thirty minutes in, jeonghan places a hand on your thigh—a gesture you don't really think twice about because he's always liked offering up the comfort of his touch even when you don't ask for it.

by the time the second half starts, that seemingly innocent hand starts to creep up your skirt.

"oh? so that's why," he chuckles when he finally discovers the mess between your thighs. "should've known cheol whisked you off for his new pre-game ritual again."

you can't help the way your thighs inch further apart as jeonghan massages your slit through your soiled underwear, making even more of seungcheol's release dribble out of your hole.

"hannie," you plead without really knowing what you're asking for.

your boss lets out a soft laugh, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on your nose all while he starts building up your arousal all over again. "what is it, baby? our boyfriend's cum wasn't enough for you? greedy girl."

you shake your head, pawing at his chest to tug him closer. "didn't come..."

"hm? what's that?"

oh, fuck it.

disregarding the possibility of being seen by others outside the viewing deck, you slide yourself over to jeonghan's lap—facing him with a pathetically horny look on your face as you grind your hips into his. seungcheol's cum easily seeps through your panties and onto jeonghan's trousers, but your boss is the last person to scold you for such promiscuous behavior.

"cheol didn't make me come," you whine as jeonghan's hands rest against your hips. "wanna come so bad, hannie. need it. need you."

jeonghan shakes his head with an amused laugh as you continue grinding yourself onto his hardening length.

"one of the company's best employees, reduced into a cockdrunk mess on my lap," your lover tuts before thrusting his hips to give you the friction you craved. "want me to take you right here? where everyone can see?"

you do. god, you really fucking do, but—

"bathroom?" you ask meekly, and it jeonghan springs into action in a heartbeat.

your boyfriend forgoes all the foreplay he'd typically resort to when he's about to split you in half on his cock—knowing full well that the passage will be much too easy with how much cheol left you to deal with.

"he's such a selfish little bastard sometimes, no?" jeonghan sighs with false sympathy as he props you up against the sink—the sound of him unzipping his trousers like music to your ears. "pulls our princess to the side to fuck her and doesn't even think about making her come? he left such a filthy mess behind, too."

you nod a little mindlessly, practically drooling at the sight if jeonghan pumping his length into full hardness. "you'll make me feel good, right hannie?"

your boss flashes you a lazy smile as he slides his cock along your sensitive slit—making those prickles of pleasure flare across your skin once more.

"when have i ever said no to you, darling?"

he slides almost too easily into your velvet heat, cursing at how filthy you feel around him with yours and cheol's combined release coating his length. but this is far from the first time jeonghan's had seungcheol's sloppy seconds, and he easily sets a rhythm that has you curling into his embrace as he fucks your other boyfriend's cum back inside you.

"been a while since we had sex this messy," jeonghan groans, his beautiful face coming into view when he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. "i fucking love it when your slutty little pussy's filled to the brim. i'm no olympic-level athlete like cheol out there, but i can fuck you until morning if you asked me to, sweetheart."

your trembling fingers manage to find purchase on the front of his neatly pressed button-up, your muscles clenching around jeonghan's thick length as he drives himself into you with fervor that could rival seungcheol's.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," you whimper, lacing your fingers around his nape. "hannie, f-feels so good. so fucking good. wanna come on your cock. please, i'll be good. i'll be so good for you, i promise."

another thing jeonghan likes about fucking you when you're high off your own desperation is how mouthy you get. under normal circumstances, you'd be too embarrassed to start babbling like the cock hungry mess you are right now, so he'll definitely milk this opportunity for all it's worth.

the sight of seungcheol's cum gathering at the base of his cock in a creamy ring nearly makes him come on the spot. the sound that echoes in the tiled walls as jeonghan fucks it all back into you makes his head swim and he knows perfectly well that you're feeling the exact same way.

"our sweet little princess is already so good for us though," he coos, leaning closer so that you can feel his uneven breath on your face. "you let cheol use this cute pussy of yours for some stupid good luck ritual even if he didn't make you come."

he emphasizes the words with a harsh thrust that quite literally drives you up the wall and you croon out his name like it's the only word you know.

"h-hannie," you pant with a line of moisture pooling across your lasbes, desperately bucking your hips to meet his erratic thrusts as you claw your way to the apex of release. "'m so close, fuck. need you harder—deeper."

"demanding as always," he laughs softly before planting another kiss on the tip of your nose. if you weren't so fucking close to tears, you would've protested. "i got you, sweetheart. i'll let you come as many times as you want. our pretty baby deserves as much."

making good on his own promise, jeonghan fucks into you at an angle that has stars dancing in the seams of your vision. your lover sneaks a hand between your joined thighs, rubbing your oversensitive clit in tight circles that have you biting into his clothed shoulder.

your walls start to clench deliciously around his cock as you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer—not wanting even a microcosm of space to come between you.

"you're gonna let me come in this sloppy pussy, princess?" he whispers, the breathlessness in his voice betraying his composure. "gonna let me use you like cheol did? don't worry though, darling. unlike him, i won't leave you wanting."

the sincerity in his voice, coupled with the sparks of sensation shooting down your spine every time the pads of his fingers graze your clit it what pushes you over the edge. jeonghan silences your loud moan with a firm kiss, fucking you through your much-anticipated orgasm as he pinpoints his own.

"so fucking good for me, our sweet little baby," he growls as the mess between your thighs drips onto the marble sink. "fucking love how your cunt squeezes around me. i'm so close, darling. do you want me to—"

jeonghan's words are interrupted with an open-mouthed kiss as you slide your hot tongue against his. "give it to me, hannie," you breathe without pulling away, fingers threading themselves into his messy hair. "want your cum with cheol's. wanna be filled with both of you."

oh, he's only a man and you're one of the two best things that ever happened to him. how could he not heed your wishes?

as promised, jeonghan releases into your abused cunt with a guttural noise, hips never ceasing as he pumps his load inside you. you feel so full—both of your lovers' cum mixing in the sloppiest mess you've ever had between your thighs.

yet somehow, just when the two of you finally caught your breath and jeonghan is just about to offer to clean you up, you lower yourself back onto the floor—turning around with shaky legs as you bend over the sink to present the masterpiece they've made out of your cunt.

then, with the most devilishly innocent look you can muster:

"can you give me more, hannie?"

Cheol: where are you guys? you told me you'll both meet me by the locker rooms after the game. don't tell me you left without me :(

Hannie: we're kind of busy, babe

Cheol: ? busy with what?

Cheol: what could be more important than congratulating me after we won the game?

Hannie: [Sent an image.]

Cheol: oh. OH. so THAT'S how it's gonna be

Cheol: having fun without me again... you're both going to get it tonight, mark my words

Hannie: we never complain when you have fun with either of us when the other's not around, big sulky baby

Hannie: and cut her some slack. this one's taken enough cock for today, don't you think?

Cheol: well, i still need to get the adrenaline out of my system. what do you suggest i do about it huh?

Hannie: :)

Hannie: i gladly offer myself as tribute

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Seat at the Table (F!Reader x M!Monster Warlord)

Pairing:Fem!Reader x Male!Warlord Monster

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Misogyny, Slight Infantilization, Non-Con, Sexual Harassment

Word count: 2498 words

Summary: After years of hard work, you finally found your way into an advisory position on the King’s Court, pushing past the forced walls put against your sex. Unfortunately  for you, the Warlord besieging your country has just requested parlay.

Request: I would like to request a story if that's okay.

A female messenger entering peace talks/parlaying with a ruthless male warlord to leave their lands. The warlord is a build-a-monster of your own creation. All I ask is that he's big and threatening looking. Get creative!

He is so uninterested in the idea of not conquering that he starts rubbing one out on his throne at the sight of this cute little human in front of him and he tells her about all the ways he's going to claim her when his armies march in. How she should be so honored when she gives birth to his future heirs.

Naturally she's not too into the idea.

But I certainly am.

A/N: I just realized I never gave this guy a name! Feel free to drop suggestions in the comments ;)

You have suffered many indignities in your life.

It had been the natural course of things ever since you were born a girl, and it had increased tenfold when you set your mind on becoming a member of the royal staff. Not as a maid, no, but as a political advisor.

You had to withstand years and years of sneers, derision and borderline harassment. Suffer through academic debates and disputes with men half of your intellect and watch them get opportunities twice as quick. You suffered through flat out refusals to teach you, not unless you wrote a 10 page essay on why you were qualified, when others merely had to show their school and last name.

So you don’t flinch when the king asks for someone to engage in peace talks. While everyone else cowers away, coming up with vague excuses and diversions; Actions that would have gotten you kicked off the council in seconds. You don’t flinch when the knights escort you to the carriage, or when the monstrous tyrant's own army escorts you out of it and to his war tent. You don’t acknowledge the various catcalls and salacious comments from his men as you pass by, and you certainly don’t flinch when his own vizier refuses to let you pass.

“I am afraid I don’t understand.”

The vizier rubs his brow, clawed paws looking dangerously sharp in the candle light.

“Like I just said, ma’am, the king asked for-”

“The king’s message asked for parlay, His Majesty sent a messenger from his own court. Like I said, I fail to understand why I am denied entry.”

“He did, but he didn’t ask for-”

“What?” You dare him to say it, looking right into his yellow, slitted eyes. 

His shoulders slacken, eyeing up and down your formal attire. He seems to accept something, either your insistent nature or the punishment he’ll get from letting you in. Either way, he steps aside, pulling back the tent flap.

“Thank you.”

You give a half-curtsy, double what the low-life deserves. He mutters something in his monstrous language as you walk inside, something that makes the warriors escorting you chuckle. You ignore it.

You’ve dealt with men like this before, you’re trained in letting it roll off your shoulders.

You let the curtain flap fall behind you, surprised the vizier doesn’t come to follow. In your experience men like that typically put their slimy noses in everything. But whatever, that’s one headache you can avoid.

The inside of the tent is gaudishly huge, fitting for the ornate throne in the center holding an even more decorated monster. 

Furs and pelts cover the warlord’s massive shoulders, his chest decorated in gleaming armor. It shines still despite the chunks and blood stains speckled across it, old and dried. His leather skirt barely covers his massive thighs, furred legs spread debaucherously apart. One set of arms sits discontentedly across his stomach, crossed tight. The other has one hand slung lazily over the side of his chair while the other currently picks fresh meat out of the lord’s sharp canines, his large muzzle curled back in a sneer. Just as boorish and snarling as you expected.

Relax, he’s just like any man. 

You try to picture him as the braggadocious generals you’ve seen before, just with far more teeth and an extra set of arms. They have the same amount of class, the lord still digging through his mouth like a common fool.

“Greetings, My Lord.”

You fall into a curtsy, finally catching the bored tyrant's attention. Your head is bowed, feigning respect, but you still see his long tail flicker with interest.

“Oh?” The lord finally sits up, cross arms unfurling to lay on his spread thighs. They draw a line of attention straight to his center, one you refuse your eyes to follow. “I wasn’t aware I would be having my dessert sent so early.” A long, ribbed tongue licks up at the lord's chops. You knot your fists on the inside of your cloak, refusing to let the seed of terror sprout in your stomach.

“I am the envoy from the Kingdom of Magistra you requested my lord. I am here to discuss the terms of compromise.”

“You?” He asks, incredulous, eyes looking you up and down. You forcefully simmer the heating anger in your stomach. First the vizier, now this? Gods, is it so unfathomable that a woman could engage in politics? “Hmph, I was expecting a decrepit old man, not a pretty little vixen.”  Those canines gleam as the lord's mouth wires into a smile. Far too wide, far too sharp. “Though I am not complaining.”

Just a man, same as them all.

Swallowing an insult, you continue with a professional tone. “Either way, I wanted first to discuss the possible benefits of aligning-”

“Hah! Benefits, benefits you say?” The lord cackles, slapping his knee at the very idea. “Tell me, what possible benefits are there from supplicating to that absolute babbling fool of a king of yours? A cowardly army, too sniveling to even die valiantly for their home? A mere sliver of your resources, hardly enough to support me and my men?”

You quirk a brow, fist knotting even tighter within your cloak. A part of you had expected this. The detailed reports of the bloody battlefields painted the picture of a man who thought himself close to a Deity, too large to care for those he crushed under his feet. 

But the greediest of men are often at the sway of their own vices; Whether it’s land, gold, power or pleasure, you just have to find that one thing they want to make them crumble. No man fights for nothing, after all.

“His Majesty is willing to bargain with you for a sufficient deal, my lord. I’m sure that whatever you desire, His Majesty would be willing to consider it to bring an end to the conflict.” You’re actually not sure of that, knowing how proud men pushed to the brink could be. But you need to win some ground first before setting boundaries, stroke his ego and make him feel like he’s coming out on top. “Is that not why you requested an envoy, my lord? I’m sure your men must be tired, as our kingdom is. There is a way we both benefit from this bloodshed.”

“Ah, I understand why you would think that, messenger bird.” You don’t let the diminutive title hit you, even as the warlord slouches back in his seat, arms splayed over the sides. A burning gaze rolls up and down your body, you bat away the urge to pull your cloak tighter. “Your kingdom is run by cowards, after all. Abandoning their posts, fleeing from death. Those boys of yours have no sense of glory, of bloody victory.” A clawed hand lovingly brushes against a blood spot on his tunic, as if recalling a particularly vicious memory of combat. “You have shown the most courage so far, envoy. Walking into an enemy camp, alone and undefended, with only your words to protect you. Quite brave, indeed.” 

The warlord’s eyes finally meet you directly, though it doesn’t inspire the feeling of respect it should. His eyes are covetous, hungry.

Your stomach flips. Your palms grow clammy, it takes everything in you to take a step backward. You realize how small this tent is, how surrounded you are.

Fuck.

Despite your efforts, the lord’s nose curls, smelling your nerves. 

“So no, little lady, I do not send for this envoy to bargain. I sent it to remind you and your king of their proper place in this war.” The warlord's upper pair of hands go up behind his head, held in an infuriating pose of relaxation. “As my future subjects.”

“But, you must realize-”

You struggle for some logic, the well-practiced variations and evidence you brought with you, but the lord is wholly uninterested, waving a hand away.

“The only thing I realize is how fun it is going to be to finally seize that glittering castle of yours. Nowhere to run, maybe me and my soldiers will get a proper fight out of this after all.” Those eyes roll up and down you once again. Your layers of clothing don’t feel like enough protection. “How delicious it will be to claim my prize.”

Words escape you, locked on his brutal smile. It’s only then you notice his second pair of hands have slipped under his tunic, and are-

“Oh!” Your face grows hot, stumbling backwards as the warlord begins to unapologetically pleasure himself. The muscle across his jaw feathers as he grips the base of his cock, slowly stroking it up and down. You can almost see a peek of it from under his tunic before you force your eyes away. But there’s no ignoring the sound, the slick of his sweaty palm moving.

“Yes, I’ll savor you the most, sweet messenger bird. I have no interest in weaklings, but I’d love to see you break on my cock.” The warlord spreads his thighs even wider, pupils blown out at your flustered face. “I’m sure you’ve never been fucked properly, little lady. Those cowardly men of yours couldn’t pleasure you even if they tried.” 

Your body feels locked in place, still too shocked to even process. 

You have suffered many indignities in your life, but never anything like this.

“I wonder what you’ll sound like, bent in half and stuffed full. Will you fight to the end, or moan like a taken woman? Ungh-” The lord humps into his hand, pace growing sloppy as something squelches. “-Wouldn’t you like that? Getting split open on my cock? On your back, on your stomach.” 

You finally find the courage to move, scrambling back to the tent's entrance. Your hands knot around the fabric and wrench it open, nearly tripping over your long skirt. The warlord cackles, no doubt eyeing up the glimpses he gets of your behind.

“You should be honored, little human! You’ll being fucked full of my heirs, after all. Strong boys of course, a whole d-damn litter.” The slapping sound of his hand, moving faster than before accompanies his stuttering voice, hips jerking as he gets closer and closer.

Sunlight nearly blinds you as you burst back into the open, running as fast as you can back to your carriage. The vizier let you pass easily, no doubt a smirk on his face. Soldiers cackle and grab at your skirts as you dart past, but none of them in earnest. It’s a fear tactic, nipping at your heels to make the sport more enjoyable.

You all but leap into the carriage door, slamming it behind you. Your weak voice urges the driver to go, get you home as fast as possible.

There has to be a solution, something, something. Something he wants, something other than-

Other than total victory.

The warlord’s laugh, those sharp teeth never leave your mind. Even as you return to the castle town, wondering what you’re going to tell the council. You wrack your brain, hands tugging at the roots of your hair, trying to force the ideas to the forefront. 

Please, gods, let there be something.

—

The castle is the first thing they attack.

There’s an utter panic when they do, servants and staff screaming as they try to find a hiding spot, some route to flee. Particularly loyal knights try to prioritize the nobility, but many falter under the overwhelming threat of the invaders. The smallfolk are left to fend for themselves, wondering how they got caught up in all this.

That’s how he found you, hidden in a closet with a gaggle of lady’s maids and chefs, trying their best to stay quiet.

“Sing for me, my messenger bird.” The warlord pants, nails digging into your ankles up by his neck. The fresh blood smears across your skin, already starting to dry. “Fuck, you’re even tighter than I imagined.” He laughs, his second set of hands pressing deep circles into your waist, no doubt leaving bruises. 

Dried tear tracks run down your cheeks, your bottom lip nearly chewed straight off. You’re already being defiled, in the king's bed of all places, you can’t relent and humiliate yourself even more by moaning. No, this bastard can’t have everything.

“I said-” his nails dig into the side of your ankle, dew drops of blood beading at the skin “-sing.”

“Gods!” You scream, the sharp pain of claw on bone clawing at your throat The feeling of a long tongue lapping at the wound doesn’t help, nor does the sensation of a cock brutalizing your cervix. The warlord’s pace is as brutal as his battle axe, piercing you open with every thrust.

“Hnng, yes. Take your lord’s cock sweetling, take it.”

He speeds up, hands stretching your body into a mating press. His clawed feet brace against the bed, tearing long holes in the fine fabric. The paintings on the walls shaking in their frames as the heavy bed moves up and down. A long tail wiggles like a snake, unmistakably giddy as the warlord devours his quarry.

The light pressure of his claws on skin forces you to release those breathy moans, the squeaks and the yelps as he hits so deep inside you. But it isn’t enough for him, a hand sneaking down and rubbing at your clit.

“No-o! Too much!” Your hips wiggle and struggle but the lord’s grip is iron, still draw tight circles on your sensitive button. The pinpricks of his claws send goosebumps up and across your stomach, but you’re not from fear or pleasure.

“Uh-uh, I want you creaming on this cock before I fuck you full, darling.” He flicks at the button, focusing his cockhead to hump right against your g-spot. “Have to make sure my seed takes, pump you full of my heirs.”

A fuzzy static falls over your brain, skin feeling tingly as a familiar feeling creeps up.

No, no I can’t! Not for him!

But the body does what it wants, the combination of his fast thrusts and deft fingers enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Your hips buck up, chasing the sensation until the very end. The warlord no doubt smiles, cackles as your cunt finally submits, but your eyes are furrowed and you miss it. 

“Here it comes!” The warlord tosses his head back as he fucks you the hardest he can, the giant royal headboard pounding against the wall. “Fuck, yes!”

What feels like a gallon of cum dumps into your pussy, spurting out the sides and across the velvet blankets probably worth more than a year’s salary. The grips bruises into your ankle as he grinds his hips into yours, sticking to his word and making sure not a drop is wasted.

“Hah, hah…” The warlord pants, sweat sticking his fur against the back of your legs. “What a prize you are indeed, my little messenger bird.”

[mysunshinetemptress]

Hi, Can't wait for the fics that you write I lover them all. But can I request a Katrina Gorry x wife reader, where the reader is a footballer too but in England or Spain team. Thanks....

Mi Vida

Katrina Gorry x Reader

Angst fluff

Falling in love with your wife has been the easiest thing you had ever done, telling her you loved her was nerve wracking but not hard, asking her to marry you was an easy decision planning out how you where going to do it not so much, organising the wedding was complicated but ultimately you both had decided to marry at La Fortaleza in Mallorca and finally the decision to start a family had been the quickest yes you had said in your life finally feeling your life align the way you had always hoped.

That changed when your wife had been signed to a team in Sweden and had ultimately decided that she would be the one to take your 6 month old daughter with her. Both your girls where three hours away by plane and the only way you got to speak to them was through a phone most of the time. You couldn’t help but feel deflated after you hung up every night, looking over the videos you had been sent of Harpers first steps to her first words and little sentences she was still trying to string together.

You spent every break you could in Sweden trying to make up for lost time but every time you saw them both your heart broke at how much had changed how big Harper was getting so quickly, and with that her interests something you didn’t catch on to until she had been a screaming mess shouting how much she hated paw patrol when you had tried to give her the presents you had brought over. What hurt even more was how little Spanish she had or understood compared to her understanding of Swedish “Osa puedes decir te amo mamá ?.” Harper had stood clueless babbling before you tried again and she began to get frustrated a tantrum ensuing after as Katrina watched heart breaking at your crest fallen features realising what was happening to her family.

Leaving was never easy you felt guilty watching Harper beg and cry for you to stay to not leave her and how hopeless she slowly became to your promises to return “too long mama stay.” You of course would only answer in Spanish wanting to surround her in as much of it as possible during such a short time, “lo sé, osa, lo siento, te prometo te veré pronto mi niña.” Harper would begin getting frustrated shouting for you to speak English.

Katrina had been a bystander during these moments, she had felt her heart break the minute she told you she had signed to play in Sweden and would be taking Harper with her, she was surprised you hadn’t fought for her to stay in Spain with you surrounded by her Tías instead when she had begun shouting at you to say something about her decision you had grabbed her into your arms and told her it was ok, having Harper move from place to place wouldn’t be good for her at all and if Katrina thought Sweden would be best for your daughter then you would support her. But she couldn’t deny she felt regret and guilt creep in watching you try to hold back tears on FaceTime or hear you cry every night you where home as you tried to hide it.

After talking to her agent Katrina decided that the 2023 season would be her last in Sweden, but she had decided to keep it a surprise from you wanting to bring some spark back in your eyes since she had left. But first was the Women’s World Cup.

Australia and New Zealand had been chosen to co host this years World Cup and the Matilda’s had been hopeful that they would win it on home soil, whereas the Spanish team La Rojas as they where fondly called had been shadowed in controversy and had come into the tournament wanting to prove the world they where more than what the news projected them to be.

Your contract with Barcelona was set to end while you where playing at the World Cup and you had made the decision to leave the club on a high of winning a champions league and leave for a new league the WSL, what team you would been signing to was get to be made known to the press wanting to tell you close family and friends before the big announcement.

The Spanish federation hadn’t been as accommodating as you hoped, refusing to allow you to fly over two days ahead of the team in order to see your wife and daughter or even letting you see them once you arrived over stating they didn’t want any distractions, Alexia and Ona stood beside just off camera as you called Katrina “Hola Mi Amor.” Katrina knew something was wrong the minute your face appeared “everything ok my love.” You looked at your teammates before sighing “they won’t let me fly out two days early or see you during the tournament, I don’t know how you say eh distracción.” Katrina eyes softened “distraction love.” You nodded “I just want to see her and to see you too.” Katrina felt the guilt come back “I know I’m sorry my love it won’t be much longer.” You nodded “is she there my little osa.” Katrina smiled sadly at the hope in your eyes at seeing your daughter “mums taken her to the park y/n I’m sorry.” You could only smile sadly at her “it’s ok, I have something to tell you though.” Katrina hummed letting you know she was listening “I’m leaving Barcelona, I want to go to England to play plus flight times are less I get to you both quicker no.” Katrina was overjoyed at the news “oh darling I’m…really but you love Barcelona.” You nodded “I do but it’s the right time.” Katrina smiled at you before she was interrupted by your older two children Kyra and Charli “hola ma how are you.” You smiled at the younger girls. “I’m good but I have to go I’ll see you all soon and please give my osa a big hug and kiss from me tell her I love her.” Katrina could see the heart break in your eyes at your words “she knows my love but I’ll remind her.”

The tournament had been a nightmare for the Matilda’s, they had been knocked out by England and would now battle Sweden for the bronze while you faced England at the hopes of winning it all. The team had gathered in the screening room to watch match hopping for your wife to win. Anytime Katrina came on screen your team cheered and your heart swelled every time of course those cheers got so much louder when your daughter appeared on screen as they all talked about how cute she was you felt tears form in your eyes seeing her dressed in her Australia jersey waving a flag. You texted the Australian girls after stating how proud you where of and that deserved so much more but that she should be proud of leaving it all out on the pitch and creating history.

You stood in the tunnel holding your mascots hand when you felt a tap on your shoulder turning to see Alessia Russo “Rumour has it your joining the WSL.” You nodded smiling “that rumour would be true.” Alessia smiled Turing to face the front “I look forward to it then.” You smiled before squeezing your mascots hand asking if she was ready to go. Walking out you stood proud giving your jacket to the young girl shivering in front of you before singing the national anthem and saying good by taking your place on the back line with Ona.

You had done your best making sure your back line stayed strong against such a strong English squad. You found an opportunity in the 29 minute the lioness gravitating to the left wing gave you the chance to break into the middle right before calling for the pass from Bonmatí seeing Mary just off her mark you sent a rocket to the top left holding your breath as it nestled in the back turning you ran to your bench jumping onto Alexia as she screamed in excitement before you looked past the bench to see the Matilda’s standing behind it, you spotted your wife and daughter pointing at the letting them know it was for them before Alexia pushed you back down to the pitch telling you to get a move on.

The minute the final whistle blew you dropped to the ground before feeling your teammates pile on top of you before you shook them off walking straight to the lionesses, congratulating them on their performance before Lotte Wubben moy grabbed you “we need you holy shit mate.” You laughed pulling her into a hug “I’m Spanish but ooh to be a gooner.” Lotte squealed pulling you tighter “can’t wait mate.” You nodded before excusing your self.

You ran right past your management team before jumping the Barrier as fans around you tried to grab you but you ignored them running up the steps “salto de Osa.” Harper jumped from Charli’s arms “oh mi Osa te amo.” Katrina pushed through the girls congratulating you pulling you down to kiss her “I’m so proud of you of all of you you did it Y/n.” You felt tears well in your eyes “I couldn’t do it without you it is all for you I’m sorry you didn’t win but what’s mine is yours sí.”

Harper wouldn’t let you go for the trophy ceremony, Katrina stating she was jealous of the mascot the minute you walked out holding her hand screaming that you where her Mama and only hers. You took your medal with Harper on your hip as well as threw her in the air when they raised the trophy before letting the girls take her away briefly as Katrina made her way on to the pitch “for you.” You took your medal off putting it over your wife’s head kissing her softly. Katrina held you as you watched Harper laugh with the girls “ lm leaving.” You froze “leaving what.” Katrina could see the worry in your face “Sweden I’ve decided I’m done splitting this family apart so at the end of this season I’m leaving and I’m following you to England.” You felt your heart swell “really.” Katrina nodded “my life is with you and Harper no where else I can’t live through that or put you both through that again it broke my heart seeing her cry every night knowing you where doing the same in Spain.” You held her as she gave you her reasoning “I’m going to Arsenal.” Kyra squealed from behind you “I am too oh we are going to be a real family in England.” Charli nodded “yeah cause I decide I wasn’t being left out either.” You felt content finally creep back in as you looked around at your little family “oh mi Vida es Bella.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Maybe a drabble in which our Lamb meets Chimaera Reader, the maker of all crowns? Like, he stumbles upon their lair, and sees all types of the crowns, big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed, etc.? Maybe even a little inter actions between the Reader and the Red Crown in which it recognises them as their maker?

Sorry for my English, it is not my native language-

Also sorry if this request repeats, tumblr May have doubled it-

I swear I'm gonna turn this into an OC one day because I LOVE the concept of a crown maker in the COTL universe

........

'Where am I now..?' Lamb pondered as they stepped into a cavern--one most unfamiliar to them.

It was strange, considering they've scoured nearly every corner of the Old Faith for resources, potential rival cult activity, and even martyrs for the Bishops.

But this area was entirely new to them.

With their weapon drawn, they cautiously ventured further inward, eventually arriving into a larger room that was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. They could barely see a thing even with the few torches scattered around lighting the way.

Then suddenly, they saw a bunch of eyes opening up on all sides of them, varying in shape, size, color, and number. And they just stared down at the little sheep.

While they were accustomed to having so many eyes on them, this was completely different.

These eyes certainly didn't belong to any follower of theirs.

What if this was a trap?

What if-?

"Welcome, little Lamb! Promised liberator of the Old Faith!"

Looking upwards, they could see you descending from the darkness. You looked like a tradition chimera: a lion, goat, dragon, and snake all mixed into one. Both of your heads smiled as you took a seat upon your throne, although you frowned a bit upon realizing how poor the lighting must have been.

"Oh forgive me, it is awful dim in here, isn't it? Hold on one moment." Your lion head breathed out a small blast of fire, aimed towards a nearby candle that lit up.

That set off a chain reaction which lit up dozens of other candles around your lair, and burned the torches bright enough for Lamb to see what all those eyes belonged to:

Crowns.

So many crowns.

Big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed..and even multi-eyed; some sported horns and some did not. Others had bare surfaces while others were decorated with jewels or marred with scars from time.

It was an astonishing sight, and when Lamb looked back up at you, they could see a crown on each of your heads--snake tail included.

Not to mention your seat was adorned with four familiar ones...

"So you..take crowns from fallen gods?"

"Do I take them?" You repeated, before laughing uproariously. "No, but I can see why you'd assume that. I'm [y/n], Maker of the Crowns."

They blinked. "You created the crowns?"

"I have since the first gods ruled over these lands." You chuckled, taking the Green Crown into your paw. "I mold them into a design of my liking, give them life, and then send them off into the world to find a worthy host. They're like my children, so I do get sentimental at times...but I know they'll do great things."

'Huh...Leshy did say the crown found him..' Lamb mused.

"Of all the ones I've created, though, I never thought to see the Bishops' crowns again. But they were in such terrible condition...falling apart, barely able to keep their eyes open....I couldn't believe it." Your gaze shifted down to the sheep. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

They tensed. "...well...um-"

"Haha! I only jest, Lamb. I know everything." You smiled reassuringly. "I've sensed strong spikes in their energy, and I'm well aware they've been used as aids for the bishops after Narinder's betrayal. Speaking of whom...."

Pausing, you outstretched your paws towards them. "I see the Red Crown has found a new master."

"It's a long story, but--hey!!" All of the sudden, the Red Crown slipped out of their hands, morphing back into its normal form as it began floating up to you. They were shocked and angered, feeling extremely vulnerable without it. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing, little one. It came to me all on its own. Welcome home, my darling." With the crown nestled into your paw, your smile grew as its eye stared back up at you with happiness. You sighed and brought it closer to your cheek, allowing it to nuzzle up to you. "Oh how I've missed you, mighty crown of Death. I'm glad you have not forgotten me."

"Give it back!!" Lamb snarled, baring their sharp teeth as they tried storming up to your throne. But their little hooves kept slipping on the skull pile that served as its foundation, and they eventually tumbled downwards, landing on their rear. "I need it back right now!"

"...are they always like this?" You muttered to the Red Crown, who just rolled its pupil in response. "Huh, I thought so. Arrogant, entitled, paranoid....just like your first master-"

"Don't compare us." They scowled. "Narinder was worse than arrogant...he would have destroyed this entire world, along with you and all these crowns if I returned it to him! We are NOTHING alike."

"Hm, I see I've touched a nerve. My apologies. I just wanted to take care of this little chip in its horn." Smiling, you manifested some black ichor to seal the crack you discovered on the crown, before sharpening up its horns a little bit. "There. Much better."

"....thank you. Now may I have it back?" Lamb put their hand out, growing more anxious with each passing second they were separated from it. 'Why isn't it returning to me?"

"It doesn't see why it has to right at this very moment...and quite frankly, I don't either. It's not connected to your lifeforce. You're still standing without it-"

"Because I'm its new master! I gave it new purpose. I gave it freedom...and it should be obeying me unconditionally and I don't understand why it's being so stubborn. That crown wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as powerful if it weren't for-!!"

"Choose your next words carefully," you tutted, shaking your head as you gestured to the walls. "My children do not look it, but they too have ears."

Falling silent, they looked all around, noticing that the crowns were now glaring at them. They tensed up, a feeling of heavy discomfort and embarrassment washing over them as they slowly realized how childish they were acting.

And in front of the crown creator, of all people?

"Tell me..do you see the crown as nothing without you? Or perhaps you feel like you are nothing without the crown?"

"........"

"Your mistake, little lamb, is that you see crowns as simple tools to do your bidding. A conduit for your godhood. But do not forget, they are also living breathing creatures like you and I." You chastised. "As such, they deserve respect. I figured you would've been more grateful to meet their maker...such few have the privilege to enter my lair and receive such a warm welcome."

The Red Crown bobbed up and down in agreement, before it scowled down at Lamb, as though to say "you better listen to them and treat me better".

They just looked at the ground, unable to form words as shame creeped up their spine.

You sighed softly. "I understand your worries as a new god. The mere thought of separation from it drives you to rage, especially after what happened between you and Narinder. But I have no desire to take it from you. Not when you've fought so hard for it. All I wish is that you continue caring for it."

"....I'm sorry, Great Crown Maker.." Lamb muttered, finally letting themselves be humbled. "I don't mean to act like I did. It's just...he's been annoying me all day today, shouting about "divine right" and making my life a living hell. He still can't accept that it chose me over him.."

They felt the familiar and comforting weight of the Red Crown returning to the wool atop their head, but they only looked up at you with respect. "Thank you."

"Of course, young one." You nodded, smiling once more. "Narinder has possessed that crown since he was a wee little kit, so it's going to be quite a long time before he lets that grudge go. Perhaps in a hundred years, give or take."

"I understand...so.." Lamb looked around. "Do you have any wares?"

"Oh, plenty!" You clapped your paws together. "Feel free to take a gander! Since this is your first visit, you may have one of the tarot cards over there on the house. But just know that the crowns aren't for sale."

[miioouu]

Mean Dad's Best Friend! Ghost pt 2

Continuation of this. In which you make him jelly.  Tw: smut, age gap, f!reader, mean ghost, oral (male receiving), dumbification, appearance of Captain John Price and Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish.  Wc: 1.6k 

     It wasn't an exaggeration when you felt as if you were the dumbest person to have ever existed. You could've denied his request, gotten over him and never thought about him ever again. But no, no you wanted to be his good girl, so you did it. The next day you texted her, that witch that ruined your life and ensorcelled your man, the one you called your best friend, to tell her about him.

    "He's nice, really! Yeah he's a bit old, but aren't you tired of boys who don't know what they're doing? They're all bark no bites. But Ghost on the other hand, I don't know, he seems like a good man…" And it's stupid, why are you convincing her? Why are you saying all these nice things about the man who's using you, taking advantage of your love for him? Because he wanted you to do it, and even though you know it's a lie, you can't help but feel as if he'd keep his promise of coming back to you, of giving you what you wanted.

       Oh you poor girl. So into that older big man, you'd throw your pride aside? You'd make the others look at you in pity? Your eyes were lined with tears during the next get together your father threw. She was in his arms, giggling and twirling her hair as he looked her up and down, as he smirked when his fingers would brush against her arm, chuckling when it’d cover with goosebumps. It’s you who should feel shivers down your spine by the way his calloused palm is pawing at your thighs under the table. It’s you who should be doing a poor job at hiding a hickey from the night prior. It’s you who should be his, it’s you who should be his, it’s you who should be his! 

How could he do it? Make a poor young girl cry like that, break her heart and replace her with her best friend? You're not the only one wondering that, it’s obvious by the way they kept talking to you, Price offering you a sip of his whiskey to make you laugh as your father scolded him. Or Soap sitting you down next to him as he started telling you about his time in Chicago (only the good memories though, he would never worry you over his  traumatising military life). As if both men had a silent agreement to take your mind off of mean Ghost. As if both men decided to make you forget about your disloyal friend. As if both men made it a competition of who can make you smile more, who could touch you more, who could make you blush more. 

Seated between them, the captain had an arm thrown on the back of your chair, playing with your hair, rolling a strand between his digits before he’d start massaging your scalp. Johnny on your left, holding your hand in his, caressing your knuckles as a way to warm you up in the cold breeze of the last summer days, and every so often, he would lean to whisper something in your ear, his eyes involuntarily snapping down your chest, trying to hide his smirk when he’d catch a glimpse of your lace mint bra. But he’s not as sly as he’d thought he was, Ghost’s attention was on him, and his superior, as he played with the hem of the other girl’s dress. He was livid, his teeth clenched and gritting against each other. His eyes were red, slit like a big cat observing its prey, ready to pounce, to attack and devour. Not yet though, not yet, he’d let you relish in their immersion of you, let you drown in their obsession, he’d be the one to bring you back to the surface of reality. 

He didn’t see it coming though, didn’t predict it, that you’d reciprocate. Why are you laughing at Soap’s stupid joke? And why are you giving Price doe eyes as he’s telling you about his latest accomplishment? It doesn’t compare to his anyway. He huffed, audible and loud, making his comrades, or right now, his competition look at him with a knowing smile, they beat him. His anger was obvious the moment you excused yourself, pushing away his toy and following you. “You’re having fun, yeah? You like having all this male attention on you, whore?” And you gasped, turning around to face him, a look of offence written clearly on your expression. “Sorry? Why do you care anyway? Shouldn’t you be busy with her?” you spat out, surprising him as he expected the usual dumb girl act from you, but this response only fueled his desire more. He took two large steps towards you, caging you between his muscular chest and the bathroom wall behind. His arm reached backwards to lock the door, before wrapping around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his, rutting to make you feel his anger. “You sure you wanna play with these two imbeciles? Let me remind you of something, darling. I didn’t give you what you wanted because I didn't want to, on the other hand they, they’re not able to…” His voice dripped with self-conceit, his hands on your hips shook with wrath, holding you so tight it began to hurt, bruise even. 

You should say something, maybe yell for someone to help you, maybe push him away, tell him to leave you alone, that you’re not one to fool around with, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not with the way his hands slid under your shirt, like they always did, taking it off and throwing it somewhere. Not with the way his tongue darted out to wet his lip before they started attacking your neck, all the way down to your chest, groaning in more frustration when he couldn’t reach his dessert. He huffed and pulled away, or at least intended to, but as soon as you felt him lift up from your flesh you couldn’t help your hands from flying to push at his shoulders, keeping him in place, you couldn’t stop the whine that escaped from deep within you, an indirect pray for him to stay. He laughed at you, like he always did “See. No one can make you feel the way I do… No one will ever be able to put up with a slut like you the way I do. So forget about them, you belong to me…”

Possessive and obsessive, this is his nature. Once he gets his eye on something, God helps the poor souls that will try to take it away from him. God helps the poor soul that tries to get away from him, in this case, it's you. And it's unfair, he's unfair, he's always been. Shouldn't he be yours too? Shouldn't he belong to you too? Why is he claiming her too then? And who knows who else he got under him at night and he didn't let you voice out your frustrations, didn't let you scream or even think properly, sanely. Your lust for this hulk of a man made you lose all sense of rationality. "Say it. Admit it darling. You belong to me" You nodded, like the stupid girl he's used to. His hands left your hips, moved to your shoulders and pushed you down as he spoke with his gruff voice "No…use your voice" And again, how are you supposed to do that when your lips part to agree with him, your voice hasn’t even rumbled in your throat, he pushed the head of his cock into your wet cavern. Your eyes widened for a second before they fluttered, keeping tears as bay as he started to thrust his hips in and out of your mouth. 

He groaned and sucked his teeth as he felt your lips around his base, forcing you to take him deeper, the tip of your nose brushing against his pubes, making it even harder to breathe. But no. What made it impossible to breathe was the hand that rested on the back of your head keeping you steady, massaging your scalp, his fingers dipping to the side slightly, rubbing your ears and it made your heart flutter, a hum of delight vibrated around him. “You like it, hmm? It’s better than that poor excuse of touch that old man was giving you, isn’t it dear? You know…you know my hands are better.” The heart doe eyes you gave him made him laugh, he knows you agreed. He knows from the way you willingly started bobbing your head, hollowing your cheeks and taking more of him in. From the way your hands pawed at the defined muscles of his thighs, your nails digging into his flesh leaving blood crescents. From the way your brows furrowed in concentration, tears sparkled under the harsh white light of the bathroom, silently begging to taste him. Maybe he’ll give you what you wanted this time, he promised after all, right? “You know I taste better too, hmm? Better than that useless sergeant, and certainly better than that hypocritical old captain.” He growled, his hips moving at a harsh speed and he cackled again…But it wasn’t him. “Hypocrite? Me?” A hand, still as calloused and harsh as Ghost’s, still as big and meaty, but somewhat warmer, pushed you off before grabbing your chin, making you look at storm blue eyes. John’s voice dripped with challenge as his head turned to look at the slightly younger man “You think you taste better? Let the sweetheart decide then, Lieutenant.”

[ofallthingsnasty]

capture kill

Pairing: M!Werewolf x F!Reader x M!Werewolf Tags:  teratophilia, yandere, dead dove: do not eat, noncon, abduction, (attempted) forced impregnation, creampies, chubby reader Word count: 3.8k Summary:  Two men are secretly fighting over you.

Unfortunately, you’re about to find out.

Note: This started out as some dialogue that popped into my head and it was a lot of fun to write out the dynamic between these two OCs! Please read the tags properly and enjoy. Requests are open!

You smell before you feel.

The air is ripe with motor oil and wood, just like your family's little shack during summer evenings. An almost musky note lies underneath, mixed with something metallic, rusty - old equipment, maybe? It’s quiet, the only thing you can hear is your own breathing, deep and constant. There is the occasional creak from the boards, expanding and moving against each other in the heat. The wall you're propped up against is hard but warm from the sun - it’s not a comfortable position and the moment you realize it, a familiar ache settles itself in your lower back, clearly a sign that you’ve spent a long time sitting like this.

Did you fall asleep hiding behind one of the shelves with a book in hand, enjoying a lazy summer evening? 

It wouldn’t be the first time: The shack is the only place where you can truly be all by yourself - without any disruptions from your family, without anyone asking for you, without any chatter and the constant clatter of dishes or the static of the tv. You’ve always liked to hole up right here, seated on a cushion and with some snacks in hand. You’ve spent many quaint evenings like this, forgetting the world around you.

There is only one problem: You don't live anywhere near your parents' house anymore. 

And you’re pretty sure that you were just enjoying your favorite iced drink at the cozy little café around the corner. The thought shocks you from the very last bits of sleep.

It’s dim around you. You can barely make out the rest of your body while an unnatural drowsiness still clings to your eyes - it seems to sit right on top of your lids, weighing down on them like a ton of bricks. You feel so incredibly groggy, as though you’d die if you didn’t fall back asleep this second. A small part of you fights against the feeling - it’s too easy, you think, to just simply give up. Something is off, something terrible churns your stomach around nothing but air.

Rolling up your head, you blink at the ceiling. 

Green eyes peer back at you, big and apologetic. They're lined by silvery-white fur, between them a muzzle. Too high above you to be a dog, too broad. The thing is bipedal - more bear in body than canine, with disgustingly big paws that look like they could rip you limb from limb. It eyes you with something akin to curiosity, intelligence clear as day in its gaze.

You blink again, brain trying to catch up with your eyes.

And then it speaks. Awful, garbled words. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

You can’t help but scream.

Or at least you try to, because your mouth won’t open. Your lips are held together by something hard and sticky - duct tape, your mind numbly supplies as if it’s of dire importance.

The thing looks stunned - panicked, even, as far as you can tell from its eyes widening at your muffled protests and your head wildly swinging around.

“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry”, another voice cuts in, only making you thrash around harder. “We get it, you’re trying to save the romantic atmosphere or some shit.”

It comes from the corner of the shack, where a shadowy mass stands, postured leisurely against the wall. It is dark - but there is no doubt that it looks just like the wolf-man in front of you. You feel like you’re hallucinating. As if being abducted wasn’t something out of your worst nightmares already - these animals are so bizarre, your poor brain doesn’t know what to do with all of this information.

“Well, how do you expect me to go about it?”, the one in front of you hisses back, eyes not leaving you for a second.

“It definitely helped the whole fighting thing, dumbass”, the other thing snickers and the wolf-man growls at the mocking tone. “I told you we should have just done the deed when she was out cold.”

The sentence confirms all of your worst fears. You whimper against your makeshift gag, trying to suppress tears. The thing gives you what you think is supposed to be a sympathetic look but it only looks ghoulish on its canine face.

“That’s barbaric”, it says, voice thick with disgust. “Yeah, and this right here is the height of chivalry and romance”, the dark one chortles. “As always, you’re a fucking hoot.”

“Shut up.”

“Well- I’m sure, the missus would like an explanation. So quit yapping and do your little monologue, will you?” “Fuck you.”

It gives the other an irrated look and then takes a step forward. You flinch away from it, only to meet the wall behind you. An attempt at raising your hands in defense is foiled thick rope binding them together - you can only cower behind your forearms, fingers swiping, gripping wildly through the air with what you hope is enough to keep it at bay. The wolf-man looks almost sad at your motion but doesn’t back off - those giant paws wrap themselves around your shoulder with surprising gentleness as it crouches down, completely disregard your attempts at scratching it. The thing holds your gaze with big, sad eyes and takes a stuttering breath. It seems to want to say something but isn’t able to - and the fingers on your shoulder tighten themselves into the fabric of your shirt.

Then it says your name- and chokes up. “I can’t-”, it grits out. “I can’t say it-” “You’ve been preparing your shitty talk all the way up here, grow some fucking balls.”

It whines in response, the sound high and miserable. “She’s going to hate me for this.”

“Oh my god, shut up, Evan!”, the dark one snarls again. “She’s gonna hate you either way, believe me.” Evan. The name rings a faint bell even in your panic-ridden brain. Evan. The baker from your favorite little shop a few minutes down - who has the same green eyes to match this thing. A couple years younger than you and so very sweet like the pastries he bakes - you can hardly believe he is this monster. But clear as day, in front of your own two eyes, the wolf responds to his name and has his eyes - even his blond hair sort of matches its coat, if you squint. You thrash in Evan’s grasp, thoughts rushing through your head. You feel like you’re dreaming and dying at the same time - that thing can’t possibly be a human - and this situation can’t be real, either. It’s all too much, too fast. You’re starting to feel faint.

“I-”

“Fine. I’ll do it myself, cuck.” The other steps forward and you get a better look at him, even through the black and green spots that are sprinkled all over your vision - his dark fur is peppered with silvery streaks, his muzzle turning white from age. One of his canines is chipped and makes him look roughed up, makes him look scarier than he already is.

"You see, sweetheart - me and Evan over here are quite… interested in you. Tried to settle this issue for weeks. But then our alpha stepped in and came up with", he waves his paw around as if to show you something, "this."

"And now we're gonna fuck you and see which one knocks you up first, hm?"

You lose it. Whimpering against the duct tape, you throw your legs around, desperate to fight them off. Some animalistic part of your brain supplies you with the thought that just trying to scream no, no, no against your gag might make them spare you, might make them go away. But Evan doesn’t let up, he keeps his hands on you, heavy and warm.

"You scared her, fucking asshole!", he snarls, teeth bared and fur raised.

“She wasn't gonna like this either way, boy. Some woo-woo words and a little sap won't make her fall for you immediately.”

You thrash around helplessly, efforts futile against the monster holding you down.

"You had the chance to ask her out every damn day when she took her pretty little face to your shop. And didn’t you follow her home sometimes?”, the other one snickers, clearly delighted in picking on his mate.

It makes you stop dead in your tracks and you look at Evan with wide eyes, scared. 

The darker one laughs. “Would you look at that. Did I tattle?”

By now Evan’s claws are buried in your shoulder. It hurts, even through the cotton of your t-shirt. Not even your whimpered protest seems to reach him. He looks positively murderous. “See, loverboy over here isn’t as innocent as he’d like you to think. Nasty little creeper, that one.”

“Shut up, Bill-”, Evan grits out.

Bill. Such a mundane name for a monster like him. Unlike Evan, it doesn’t ring a bell - but you’re sure he is a local just like the young bakery worker.

“That's enough”, Bill says, voice suddenly full of authority. “You’re only making this worse for her, boy.” The paw on your shoulder trembles. “At least let me go first.” His voice is nothing more than a whimper now, more reminiscent of a sad child than a fully grown man grotesquely stretched into the body of a wolf. He sounds absolutely pathetic like this and you’d pity him in any other situation.

Bill laughs, deep and ugly. It’s an almost dry chuckle that gets gradually louder. The atmosphere shifts to something more dangerous, more serious - gone is the playful teasing, now it sounds like he’s ready to rip Evan’s throat out with his bared fangs.

“I am your elder. I get to go first.”

Evan doesn’t respond. He just stares at your lap with an indecipherable expression.

“You hear me, boy? Hugh said this was the way to settle things. Trying to question your alpha?” The threat in his voice is clear. Evan finally opens his mouth. “No.”

“Good. Very good.”

He finally lets go of your shoulder and steps aside. Bill doesn’t waste any more time - you’re grabbed by your ankled and roughly pulled onto floor, helplessly flailing your bound hands through the air. He’s on you almost immediately, caging your head in with two thick arms. You can only stare up at him with pleading eyes, trying to beg him to stop with your expression alone.

“Sh, princess”, he says, almost gentle. He bows his head down and nudges the crown of your head. “I can play nice with you, you know? I just don’t like that little cuck over there”

His words do little to calm you. 

Whimpering against the tape, you let tears spill freely. You just want to be home, in your bed - just anywhere but not here. “It’s okay”, he murmurs and licks them away with his rough tongue. “You’ll be fine. You’re a little fighter, I know you are.”

A growl sounds from the corner but Bill isn’t fazed. He caresses your face with one clawed finger and crinkles his eyes at you. It’s another attempt at a soothing gesture, another one that doesn’t work.

“Poor thing, hm? Let’s get this over with.”

You can barely cry in protest before he rips your shirt open with sheer force, digs his claws into the cotton like it’s butter. Your skin prickles with fear as he eyes you, soft form and all, like the finest cut of meat he’s ever seen. Gone is that almost-warm expression, that deceptively gentle touch. He’s back to his snickering, old self. “Cute bra, baby. Too bad it has to go.” And with that, Bill slashes the straps and rips the band away. Your torso is completely bare in a matter of seconds, leaving you to shiver on the rough wood, the scraps of your shirt barely shielding your back from the ground.

Evan groans from his place and the sound curdles your stomach. 

“Just ignore him, baby”, Bill says and bares his teeth into a ghoulish smile above you. “He’ll have his turn but I’m gonna knock you up and keep you.” With another rip of elastic and cotton, he frees you from your pants. The floor is cold against your skin and you already can feel the splinters that are about to bury themselves into you - but it’s nothing compared to the terror awaiting you. “A little uncomfortable?”, he hums above you. “Sorry about that, babe. Gonna have to do for now.” He stuffs his whole snout into your bush and groans. The feeling is alien, his muzzle warm and wet and you shudder with it. “You smell divine.”

When he pulls back, his dick is unsheathed, hard already. He palms himself while he stares down at you, dark eyes enraptured by your form. 

“You’re just-”, he grunts. “About the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen-”

He pinches the fat of your belly with a surprising gentleness, the sting tender. 

“Look at you, all soft and round. So perfect for me.”

He leans over and kisses and bites your neck, your shoulder, even your jaw - gently, which only freaks you out more. He really won’t stop, will fuck you in a matter of minutes and you can’t do anything about it. You know you aren’t ready to take him and he is definitely bigger than average in this form. The dread that blooms in your stomach feels like a punch to your gut. 

“Deep breaths, princess”, he rasps above you, able to read every single thought that flits through your head in your terror-filled eyes. “Nothing much you can do now.”

As sick as it is, it rings true somewhere deep in your panic-riddled brain. Bill shuffles around a little bit, without ever breaking eye contact. There is a warmth that touches your leg and you know exactly what it is - his cock rests heavy and hot on your skin. Slightly wet with pre-cum, it twitches between your thighs. You barely dare to peek down, not wanting to see what is about to happen.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.” Bill groans, buries his muzzle in your shoulder and pushes himself into you. He is incredibly thick and it burns. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve experienced before - raw fear for your life leaves you dry and clenched uncomfortably around his dick, making him snarl and hiss above you. You can feel your own tightness around him and fold your bound hands into nothing, fingernails digging themselves into your palms.

If only you had something to grasp, to make this more bearable. The only thing you can do now is grit your teeth and take it.

“Oh shit, princess”, he sighs, completely blissed out and without any regard for your pain. To your surprise, he bottoms out slowly and waits for you to adjust - or at least what he thinks adjusting is. You're still not ready when he finally starts fucking you in earnest, slow and deep. 

"Fuck-", Bill grits out directly into your ear, his voice muffled. "You got the perfect cunt, baby. So fucking- tight."

You pay little mind to his words, too focused on the steady push and pull, on the dry stab of his cock.

“Knew it when I first saw you that you'd be perfect for me. And I'm gonna-”, he moans obscenely loud as your cunt flutters around him. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my pups- just wait-” The thought of being pregnant with this monster’s child almost makes you weep. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, he groans, his pace picking up. “My cute little wife. That’s what you’ll be, princess.” The sentence earns him another threatening growl from Evan. He only laughs in response, deep and unspeakably ugly. “Yeah, you’ll be perfect-”, his hips crash into yours as he fucks you even faster, the sound vulgar and loud in the otherwise silent shack. “I’m gonna make sure that this little cuck will cry himself to sleep for the rest of his life. Gonna give you a bunch of brats-” It’s clear that he’s just rambling now, too entrenched in his own pleasure. But the thought still makes you still freeze in fear, the very possible future of being with his child terrifying. He’ll give you at least one, to claim you. Ruin you forever.

You clench around him in fear and he loses it - snarling, drooling and almost hollering above you, he fucks you so hard your head gets pushed into the wall again, every thrust bending your neck into an awkward angle.

You know he has to be close now and you’re grateful for it. One, two heartbeats pass as keeps pounding you so hard you know you’ll feel his dick in you for days to come.

“Oh- fuck”, he grits out as he buries himself into fully, the stretch making you bite your cheeks to bear the pain. “I’m gonna knock you up-” And then he’s spilling himself into you, the hot, wet feeling of his cum deep within you. Bill yelps and shouts as he empties himself into you, various curses and praise peppered in between the moans. It takes him a good minute to calm down again, to collect himself.

Still a little out of breath, he smiles down at you with almost sadistic glee as he licks the side of your sweaty face. “Come on, cuck. Time to get your sloppy seconds.” He’s on his legs in a heartbeat, still marveling at the mess he made just seconds ago. “You better do it quickly because my swimmers are already working their way up there”, Bill laughs and all but shoves Evan out of the way as he goes back to his place in the corner. “Have fun, boy.”

The younger man is by your side in an instant.

“It's okay, honey, it's okay”, he whispers, those big green eyes filled with tears. He tries to soothe you and strokes the top of your head but the gesture only freaks you out more. “This is all my fault, and I'm sorry, so sorry.”

The apology would have been a little more sincere if his dick wasn’t already poking your thigh.

“Oh, darling”, he sighs tearfully. “I’m so sorry it had to be like this- I just- ”, he starts but interrupts himself with a hiccup. “I swear, if I had talked to you sooner-” Not even the snicker from Bill’s corner can snap him out of it. “But I’m gonna make it right. You’ll see, I’m gonna make it up to you, darling”, he babbles on, his words only unsettling you more and more. “You’ll have to forgive me, yeah? You have to.”

He’s a goddamn lunatic. 

You can’t help but look back at the older man, almost wanting him to intervene. Before you can make any eye contact, you’re pushed into a hairy chest by a tight hug. “I promise. But first, we’re gonna get through this”, Evan rumbles out above you, making the dread flare up again.

He wastes no time after that. You’re freed from his arms and placed on the ground - gently, but with unsteady hands. He looks as though he’s drooling above you, parting your legs and sniffing your belly with anticipation. His cock seems to be a little smaller than Bill’s, but considerably thicker - it bobs up and down as he licks your stomach, your tits and your neck, his tongue almost shy.

At least Bill’s cum serves as a lubricant, you think, as sick as it is. “My pretty girl”, he hums. “And soon all mine.”

And indeed, the stretch is almost bearable as he enters you. You’re glad he doesn’t reach as deep as Bill does because the speed at which he fucks you is sloppy and fast from the start - he pushes into you with so much need and desperation it knocks the air out of your lungs with every thrust.

“I love you”, he moans. “And we’re gonna- we’re gonna spend our lives together, yeah? I’m gonna take such good care of you-”

He’s talking himself into a frenzy, his words nothing but the lovesick rambles of a freak - they just make you feel more hollow. “Really love you, angel- oh-”

His muzzle opens and he kisses you over the duct tape, tongue pressed against the plastic and spit sliding down to the sides of your face. He doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he moves his jaw against your taped mouth, frantic and uncoordinated. It’s disgusting.

Unable to move away, you can only press your eyes together and let it run down your skin.

“You’ll love me too, I know it. Just know it-”, he pushes your hands onto your chest as a leverage to go even faster. “We were made for each other.” “We’ll forget about this and live happily ever after.” Now he sounds completely delusional.

His twisted little fantasy of domestic life with you only spurs him on, his moans getting more choppy and broken with every slap of his hips against yours. He seems to be a quicker shot than the older man, too hung up on his bizarre dreams and hopes. You thank whatever godly entity out there for it.

“Fuck- darling, I think I’m about to-”, he whines but doesn’t get any further before his orgasm rips through him.

You’re a proper mess now. The second load of cum feels obscene within you, all warm and sticky as it spills out around his dick and onto your quivering thighs. He fucks into you for another few, sloppy thrusts before he stops to catch his breath. Evan looks so calm suddenly - gone are the tears, the shakiness. He gently kisses the top of your head, the gesture tender. 

“You lovebirds okay?”, Bill says, his voice suddenly quiet, higher.

Evan’s head snaps again, a weak growl telling the other to stop his teasing. You use the shift to peek up from underneath  him, curious as to what changed. A naked man stands in that same corner in Bill’s stead, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Salt and pepper hair is fluffed up on his head, slightly greasy - your tired eyes have seen him once, you’re sure of it. 

“Like what you’re seeing, babe?”, he grins and whistles out some smoke. 

“Leave her be, Bill. She deserves some peace now.” He barks out a laugh, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Finally, Evan pulls out, forcing out an obscene amount of cum and fluids out of your abused cunt as he withdraws. It lands on the floor beneath you unceremoniously, the noise sickening. He caresses your stomach before he gets up, already contemplating how you’ll look like swollen with his child. “We’ll have to wait a little but she’ll stink like one of us soon”, Bill snickers at the sight, one chipped tooth just as pronounced as it is in his wolf form. He pats Evan on the shoulder in an almost brotherly fashion, both too worn out to fight anymore. Bill stomps out the cigarette with another sigh and stretches as though he is simply a little tired from a long day. He grins before holding the door open, the world outside already dark.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to make it stick.”

End note: And? Who would you pick? Maybe even both? Do tell me 👀💕

[aggro-my-beloved]

Asher + Babe HC’s

＊ after their first meeting, asher volunteered himself to do any and all miscellaneous errands involving paperwork and notarization if it meant going back to baabe’s place of work so he could chance running into them again

＊ they even timed each other’s schedules in order to squeeze in tens of lunch dates through the week before making anything official. one thing that took baabe by surprise during these rendezvous, though, was the same request asher gave to each waiter/waitress.

＊ baabe supposed hot sauce wasn’t that odd of a condiment to put on his burger, but amidst their fourth date when he was loading it on top of his mashed potatoes, they had questions.

＊ asher has grave mouth. his tastebuds are basically useless from all the sour candy he consumed as a child/teen. he can drink lemon juice straight without puckering. this info shut baabe right up, but left them satisfied.

＊ to ensure his meals aren’t entirely bland, he puts hot sauce on almost everything he eats. this has led to some questionable, if not disgusting combinations he has sworn against—including, but not limited to sriracha-topped waffles and red hot chocolate

＊ the pack beta also likes to skateboard, baabe disovered. cmon, they live in california—it was between skating and surfing and this man burns too easy at the beach. his mate would be lying if they said they didn’t admire his freckled face from time to time, though.

＊ give him a shovel on malibu’s finest sand though? he’d dig a hole so big it’d be considered a safety hazard. and he did, the one time he and baabe went on their shared day off. the lifeguard had to come and stop him, urging baabe to glance up from their magazine and gape at the trench a dangerous proximity from their beach chair.

＊ once they did leave, asher was sulking about how he could’ve made the hole so much bigger and deeper (hehehe) had he been shifted and able to use his paws and let primal instinct kick in. baabe consoled him with ice cream and an aloe massage later on, promising they’d try for a private beach and a higher spf sunscreen the next time around

＊ long-haired babe’s go to hairstyle is space burns. asher adores the style on them so much he asked for them to do the same to his hair. it didn’t turn out similar in the slightest (more like two tiny pigtails sticking out lopsided atop his head) but he was happy with the results and that’s all that mattered.

＊ “hell yeah, baaabe! you can’t even tell us apart!”

＊ the only way baaabe can remember to practice self-care is when asher reminds them. sometimes he’ll point out a soothing face mask in the store’s cosmetic aisle or run them a hot bath, but the only way for baaabe to fully indulge is if they offer asher to join them in the activity. and he always says yes, otherwise the task will be long forgotten on his mate’s part. and asher would be caught in a lie to say he didn’t want to see how that one bath bomb in particular fizzled out into the water.

＊ when the weather starts cooling down in the fall, asher likes to take walks in his wolf form. so baaabe can join him in public, they modified his spiked choker to act as a dog collar that baaabe can add a leash to, so no unempowered humans get suspicious at the sight of him. that’s right. asher is babe’s scary dog privelage.

＊ he gets a little too eager and excited on these walks though, best believe he’s pulling his mate down the sidewalk 90263692634962692 mph to take in everything while baabe tries not to stagger or fall flat on their face

＊ after several failed attempts at this, they repurpose ash’s skateboard as a mode of transportation for baabe to safely ride on as asher pulls them down the sidewalk. a much better solution than their twelve-year old heelies shoes that were falling apart at the seams.

＊ asher and baaabe are the only couple in the pack that collectively like horror movies/games/media. the only exception for baabe is haunted houses, which both discovered one fateful october at Dahlia’s local amusement park. one of the scare actors frightened baabe so badly, they left with a broken nose, and baabe with a bruised set of knuckles on their right hand.

＊ asher was quick to comfort them during the embarrassing ordeal, but just as quick to laugh and tease them about it later on. he’d be saying shit about how “you should’ve dressed as rocky with an uppercut like that”

＊ once they did leave, baabe sulked, arguing that “zombies are a different type of scary than werewolves and vampires—it was all self defense!” asher consoled them with ice cream later, promising no more haunted houses in the future for the sake of baabe’s hands and innocent workers’ noses alike.

〈 TLDR: baaabe and asher are adorkably sweet together and both love ice cream 〉