#golden retriever turned feral

[oogalaboogalabich]

More post headshot Ghoap for ya. farside of fucked up. nsfw.

<---------->

"Heh yer cryin' again Johnny"

Smoke billows from Ghosts lips as he speaks, smirking from just under the scrunched edge of his balaclava.

He tapped the cigarette into the ash tray and leaned more weight onto his elbow. The one currently pressed into the back of soaps neck.

All of Soaps cursing regresses into sounds more resembling that of a caged animal, one throwing itself at the bars of its prison.

Ghost laughs soft and low when a spray of spittle hisses out from between those bared teeth.

He's got the man bent over some random fuckers cot, arse up and face down.

"Fuckin spittin cobra, you are... all fangs and venom, now."

He pulls at his hair and forces soaps head up at an uncomfortable angle.

"Open yer mouth..." he slaps their cheek and watches that lip split, tongue darting out to taste thier own blood.

"Open it. There we go...let me see 'em...show me those new teeth of yours."

He lowered their lip with a finger, rubbing along the gums and smirked at the savage little addition to their maw. He'd have to retrain the lad to keep those off him. But in the meantime...well he didn't mind a little pain.

Ghost had been there when Soap had stormed out of briefing a few days previous.

Man had been fidgeting like a fuckin heroin addict on withdrawal, gnawing on his tongue just to keep himself in check. Something pissed them off on mission.

It was obvious these days if anything was wrong with them, and he'd been in a right state. Soap hadn't said a word unless spoken to directly, hyper-fixating on something he wouldn't be capable of tearing away from until it was satisfied or proper shot-down.

The next morning, Ghost had caught a flash of sharpened, filed teeth all along his lower jaw. 'Fuckin hell, kiddo...what is goin -on- in that head?'

Johnny wasn't a frivolous sort of man anymore, mores the pity. It had been for utility, not aesthetic. hard not to respect the reasoning.

"more effective to bite up and tear away than down." He'd said. "Like squeezing versus pulling a trigger." Bloody feral bastard that he was these days.

It was different, it wasn't his old Johnny. Never would be again. But that was fine....

Better than fine.

"Saw what you did to the stiff on the stairwell. Flipped the bastard over before anyone else saw."

"Am I supposed t' thank ye?"

"Christ Johnny, the mans face was gone. Goes against human fuckin decency what you're doin to these poor sods."

"Wanted him pretty for me."

"Pretty as me?"

"Aye sir."

Ghost's eyes widen a fraction before they narrow again, lips curling upwards while he exhales another waft of grey-blue smoke.

"...Is it me you're killin' out there?"

Soaps fingers clawed into the sheets as he met Simons thrusts and thrashed against him all at once. Like he couldn't -decide- on an answer. Kid couldn't separate anything anymore. Fucking, fighting, eating, killing, laughing, crying. It was all just one giant fuckin rage out now.

It looked exhausting; had him angry on behalf of his boy. Soap deserved to remain as he had been. To keep that part of himself; that sweet little demolitions nutcase with a smile that outshone the fucking sun.

"Out there cuttin' down ghosts and effigies?"

Reduced to a live grenade with a missing pin and ghosts thumb over the spoon. Shitty metaphors aside...

"Or do you just like eatin' on them?

"...its not about saving lives anymore is it? king and country....civvies and mates back home...you don't give a fuck anymore, do you? Nah..." he bends over, flush with soap and places a kiss to the wound at his head. Follows it with a deliberate and slow swipe of his tongue. "Little bastard here stole that from you."

"You're a man-eater now Johnny. Got a taste for it....watching them drop quick and easy? All rot n' piss to monsters like us...

"Flesh from fuckin' bone 'tween our teeth, Tastin' the terror in their sweat...Makin 'em suffer proper for the sport of it. Yeah?

"The bloody Tsavo Lions, us."

"Aye sir..." Soap flashes a manic sort of grin. "The Ghost and the fokken Darkness..."

"You my Darkness, Johnny?"

"You're my Ghost ain't ye?"

"Like the sound o' that. Say it again."

"Fokk off."

"Say it or I'll give this nut to the fuckin floor."

The wall was losing plaster now, and there was an angry shout from next room over. They could shove that noise complaint straight up their-

"Yer my gho- Ghost, Simon."

"Again."

"Ghost...my Ghost!"

"Again!" His command is a chest deep growl, shoving soap deeper into the thin mattress. It pitches them both forward, muffling the near rabid snarling of his name, again and again like a mantra.

He slides his hand under that throat and pulls soaps chin up to choke his voice, leaving just enough passage for a fraction of air.

Ghost watches another wave of tears escape those furious fuckin blues while Soap is wracked with a violent, telltale shudder. He lifts the remains of the cigarette to his lips and takes a long, deep drag; taking his time to catch his breath.

"That's my good boy..."

<----->

If you havent seen The Ghost and The Darkness or read about the Tsavo Maneaters, please do. Gaddamn love those lions.

[steviesbicrisis]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJtYFUU9/ Oh my god, this sound but with Eddie as the "golden retriever boyfriend". Cut to Steve with his nail bat! Chef's kiss

Aaaaaah I love this!! I can imagine fantasy au or pirates au (any adventure of sorts) with Eddie being all bubbly and approaching the sketchy dudes to make some sort of deal, but they don’t take him seriously.

That is until one of them threatens Eddie in any way and then black cat boyfriend™️ Steve appears from the shadows and plants his nailed bat on the table (yes they’re discussing around a table), making everyone jump except Eddie who still has the same grin on his face and he’s like “oh yeah this is my bf 🥰 he’s so hot when he does that right?”

(Okay but if anyone has fanfic recs with this dynamic… don’t be shy… share with the class)

[froggibus]

The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding. 

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something? 

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little. 

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro.  He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball. 

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks. 

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact. 

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him. 

[whereforarthur]

Masterlist~

All of my work compiled in one place. Please like and reblog if you enjoy them, feedback is greatly appreciated. Requests are open!

(Updated 9/23/2024) 

(X) = coming soon

ItalianBach~

Fluff: 

You’re The Only Man I Want to Kiss

- Isaac and his girlfriend y/n react to Women Rank Men by Kissing

Smut:

Ménage à trois (Threesome w/ ArthurTv)

- Who knew fan fictions could cause so much pleasure?

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

- Having had a threesome the night before leads to an interesting and revealing podcast episode, leading their friends to question what truly happened?

ArthurTV~

Angst:

Unrequited Love Hurts Like A Bitch

- Being in love with your best friend sucks, especially when he doesn't feel the same way

Unrequited Love Hurts Like A Bitch (Part 2)

- Soulmates are two best friends who fell in love

Fluff: 

Being Stuck in an Elevator Never Looked so Good?

- Getting trapped in an elevator with your favorite YouTuber, was not what you had planned for today

Love At First Podcast

- Falling in love with you was easy

Smut:

"Women weaken legs"

- After your boyfriend Arthur was in boxing training camp and was forced to go 6-8 weeks without distractions and sex, he goes feral for his girlfriend when he gets out

Ménage à trois (Threesome w/ ItalianBach)

- Who knew fan fictions could cause so much pleasure?

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

- Having had a threesome the night before leads to an interesting and revealing podcast episode, leading their friends to question what truly happened?

The Two Arthur’s (with Arthur Hill)

- Virgin!Reader goes to her friends for comfort not expecting them to comfort her in such a way

George Clarkey~

Fluff: 

Musicians want to be the loud voice for so many quiet hearts - Reader is a famous singer and George follows her on tour and fans speculate they’re dating.

Wedding Day Bliss~ - George Clarke marries the love of his life

Dating Headcanons for George Clarke

I'll wear your name on my heart til I die

- The turmoils and happiness that comes with giving birth

Smut:

Tummy Obsessed Much? - George's favorite body part on his girlfriend is her stomach

Wedding Night Bliss~

- A fluffy smut of the events that transpired after your and George's wedding night.

It’s Good to Be Home

- could you do a clarkey version of homecoming?

A Night In

- A perfect night in with your boyfriend is very pleasurable

It's Been Way Too Long

- “I think I'd miss you even if we never met.”

Love and Hate Are Blurred Lines

- “How would it be.. if all my hate disappeared like my youth, if after all this time his very hatred of me turned out to be something gentle, some kind of love.”

Caught Red Handed

- Who knew taking a risk could lead to this much pleasure?

So Much Restraint

ChrisMD~

Angst:

We'll Never Last

- It hurts to be something, it's worse to be nothing with you

Fluff: 

Fate is in The Stars (PlusSize!Reader)

- A chance encounter at a concert leads to more than you expected

Drunk and Touchy

- Chris fluff where he's a bit tipsy and can't keep his hands off his girlfriend

I Didn't Know Punk Girls Blushed

- Golden retriever boy falls for punk grumpy girl

What If We Were More Than Friends?

- Falling in love as best friends was unexpected

Smut:

Arthur Hill~

Angst:

Brother's Flatmate

- George’s sister and Arthur can’t stand each other, right?!?

Fluff: 

Am I a Burden to You?

- Arthur’s been working a lot and y/n misses him, she brings this up and he gets angry and calls her ‘clingy’ before realising he messed up and makes it up to her (angst —> soft)

Piano Nights

- Y/N and Arthur meet at a musician's party, where she spots him and confidently pursues him. They sleep together, and they end up dating, leaving Arthur in awe and a massive simp.

Dating Headcanons for Arthur Hill

Smut:

“Sex is an Emotion in Motion”

- Arthur takes care of you after a rough night in the sheets

It’s painful, loving someone from afar.

- Y/N is on holiday with all of the boys and there’s tension between Arthur hill and her, and everyone can see it and they’re just waiting for something to happen. (Soft Smut)

Homecoming

- When Arthur returns from vacation, he misses his girlfriend greatly causing things to get freaky

The Two Arthur’s (with ArthurTv)

- Virgin!Reader goes to her friends for comfort not expecting them to comfort her in such a way

A Delightful Surprise

All~

Dating Headcanons

George Clarke

Arthur Hill

ArthurTV

ChrisMD (X)

ItalianBach (X)

Featuring more than 2 of the boys~

Poker Night Never Felt So Right

ArthurTv x Reader x George Clarke x Chrismd

A game of strip poker with your friends, goes a little further than anyone expected...

Said She Wanted Five Guys She Ain’t Talking about Burgers (X)

Reader x George, Arthur Hill, Chris, Isaac and ArthurTv

Y/n shares her sexual intentions with five YouTubers. She invites them to join her fantasy, setting no limits on their actions. The group eagerly agrees, indulging in a passionate sexual encounter as they explore Y/n's desires one by one.

A/n: Let me know if anyone would like to be added to a taglist for all imagines or certain people!

[illubean]

srry I keep doing super long requests so I'll try to make this one shorter.

Illumi, Chrollo, Feitan, and Leorio's reaction gn!s/o or crush who fights by shredding mfs with tooth and claw like some kind of feral animal

they see a cowardly enemy try to run, turn to him and go "hey babe, do me a solid and throw me." so they can drill down onto the mf and maul the shit out of 'em coming back just absolutely soaked in blood.

for bonus comedy maybe they say somethin like "that felt sexy. we should do that more often." or "lmao we should name that move..."

HXH With an S/o W/ Sharp Teeth/Claws

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

up to you if nen makes ur teeth/nails grow or if ur just freaky all the time

Warnings: violence

Leorio Paladaknight

this man is HORRIFIED

YOU'RE SO SCARY

forget him throwing you in battle bro he is RUNNING FOR COVER

the first time he ever saw you maul something like an animal was those damn pigs at the hunter exam

fuck a weak spot you just bit a chunk out of it and it died 😭

"YOU'RE COVERED IN PIG BLOOD!" "Oopsiesss :3"

he is so scared

do not put your mouth anywhere near him he will run away screaming

he shivers every time your hand brushes up against him

poor guy

Illumi Zoldyck

you're like a personal guard dog, forget mike

he lets you take care of whatever business he doesn't have time for

and if he's going on a mission where he has multiple targets he'd bring you just for funsies

its almost like he's walking around with a chain chop at all times

if you asked him to throw you he'd be like ??? ok then CHUCK YOU LIKE A JAVELIN

he thinks it's kinda gross how messy you get especially since it like...gets in your mouth

he's already iffy about physical affection but this man will not touch you until you have been thoroughly sanitized afterwards

he won't even let you step foot inside the house

he WILL hose you down like a dog he don't play

"y'know you should throw me more often!" "only if you're clean before I touch you."

Chrollo Lucilfer

you know when dads grab their kids by the back of their shirts and swing them?

yeah that's how he's going to throw you

at some point it just becomes routine for him to quite literally throw you into battle since you enjoy it so much

why? he has no clue but he will indulge you

and every time its like fnaf jumpscare for your opponent

Chrollo is another one who doesn't like the mess and he rather you stay a safe distance until you clean yourself

the amount of hydrogen peroxide he has to get is insane

bro refuses to let there be bloodstains on ANYTHING and he will do all your laundry too

with gloves on of course

one day you came up to him and were like "maybe we should call that the flying squirrel"

Feitan Portor

he likes your style

you're straight to the point no bs and get shit done

sometimes this little sadist sits back and lets you do all the dirty work because he likes watching you

you guys were occupied with some lowly enemies and you noticed one trying to run off

and when you tell Feitan to throw you he does it with no hesitation (even though I imagine its kind of awko cus yk...hes a small man)

and when you rip this guy apart like some sort of rabid honey badger he's like

heh nice

and when you come back covered in blood and looking like a golden retriever wagging it's tail he is a #proud bf

"we should totally name that move :3"

he doesn't say much but he'll grab your hand and lead you away from the scene

you can't tell but he has a lil proud smile behind his cloak mask thingy

[planet-dusk]

thinking about leaving yunho high and dry before a performance and him basically hunting you when it’s over 😵‍💫😵‍💫 what I wouldn’t do to see that man pissed off

🏷️ f!reader, dom!yunho, height difference/size kink (mc is shorter than yunho), big dick yunho, panty gagging, unprotected sex, mc is called baby, doll

you watch him force a smile before he disappears up the stairs, lips pressed into a thin line. of course he's a bustling ball of energy on stage (he's a professional, after all), sending playful winks towards the screaming crowd — but excitement flares in your gut whenever you see glimpses of something darker simmering below the surface.

yunho is a loving boyfriend; funny, sweet, radiating the kind of golden retriever energy that'd made it so easy to let your guard down when you first started dating. dating had been difficult before you'd met him, but he'd wormed his way into your heart with breakfast and flowers. the definition of a gentle giant, unless you didn't want him to be.

the drive back home is silent. uncharacteristically so. his large hand rests on your thigh while he shoots daggers at the back of the driver's head, as if he's willing him to drive faster by some invisible force of telepathic communication.

you barely make it through the door before yunho pins you against the wall. "take this off," he growls, tugging at your coat.

you hastily get rid of the garment, his groping entirely unhelpful; large hands roaming your body, sliding underneath your shirt, cupping your breasts and hoisting your legs up and around his waist.

"fuck, yunho —" you gasp when he sucks a dark bruise into the skin of your neck. his cock grinds against your clothed cunt, hard and heavy.

a promise.

"i said off," he grunts and paws at your remaining clothes. he momentarily sets you down so you can slip out of your pants on wobbly feet, but he's left all his patience at the door.

there's a loud tearing sound when your shirt rips, followed by your panties, your surprised gasp stifled by a wad of dark blue lace.

you taste your own arousal on the garment and yunho chuckles when he sees your wide eyes. he doesn't bother with your bra, pushing down the cups so he can grope at your breasts.

"turn around," he orders. you oblige without hesitation, just as eager to feel him. the tips of his index and middle finger trace your hole before sinking into you, curling to find the right spot.

all you can do is arch your back; your moans effectively muffled by the fabric stuffing your mouth.

"is this what you wanted? rile me up so i'd fuck you hard? all you needed to do is ask, doll."

ask and he'd give you the moon if he could. but you both know it isn't the same. there's something about him taking you like this, almost feral, that makes your toes curl.

he fucks his fingers into you sloppily, scissoring you open with little finesse. it's clear he's only got one goal: stretching you out just enough to be able to take his cock.

it only takes a few more strokes before he's satisfied, the blunt head of his cock prodding at your entrance.

"knock on the wall if it's too much."

it's the only warning he gives you. you whimper and squirm as he sinks into your tight hole, his grip on your hips so strong you know it'll leave bruises in the morning.

"so fucking tiny," yunho grunts as he watches you struggle to adjust to his size, "don't know how you take it."

truthfully, you don't know either — the stretch borders on painful with such little prep, his cock hitting you so deep you think you might see stars. but the burn quickly fades into pleasure, the tip of his cock hitting your gummy spot with every stroke.

you're a mess underneath him, bare chest pressed against the cold plaster and makeshift gag soaked with spit and arousal. yunho's towering over you, still fully dressed save for his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles.

it only adds to the scene: your debauched state, the rough manhandling, his cock drilling into you. normally always the type to make sure you cum first, yunho doesn't make any attempts to reach for your clit.

"thought you could just leave me like that?" he wraps a hand around the back of your neck for more leverage, "leave me high and dry without any repercussions?"

you shake your head. the coil in your tummy tightens with every word he hisses into your ear, wetness dripping down his balls and coating your thighs.

yunho feels you clenching around his cock, knows you're close by the familiar rhythm and your muffled whines rising in pitch. he removes the panties from your mouth and you gasp, air flooding your lungs.

"'m so close, fuck, yunho, gonna cum —"

your entire body tenses then slumps down against the wall, only held up by his strong arms. yunho fucks you through your orgasm; through the oversensitivity and the chants of "too much, 's too much, go on, go on, don't stop" — until your limp body is pushed over the edge again, eyes rolling back while you cream his cock.

"c-can't," you whimper weakly, "please cum, please —"

you're begging him so sweetly, voice cracked and body at his mercy. yunho's hips stutter and his release spills deep inside of you. your knees buckle under his weight and you giggle when the two of you stumble back, his arms wrapped around your chest.

"thank you," he mutters between soft kisses pressed against the nape of your neck. their warmth spreads through your sluggish limbs. "let's get you cleaned up."

[russellradio]

do you ever think about how both eddie and tommy heard only good things about evan buckley but then they meet him and he's this inexplicably feral (hot) jealous (adorable) hunk of a man who acts out until they give him a single word of reassurance and he finally turns into the golden retriever people told them about?

[jade-jini]

STUDENT COUNCIL MEMBER! YUNJIN X LITTLE MENACE READER HEADCANON

Genre: fluff. Childhood best friends, not exactly romantic yet but there’s something there -

Warning: none bro. Reader is lowkey golden retriever puppy coded, don’t blame me-

Had in mind a spicier thing for Chaewon but first I wanted to do my first one about my girlie<3 but I’m still gonna post wonie’s one later. Might want to turn it into a little series of os in the same universe.

-You guys are actually childhood friends.

-Used to play together and go into feral mode, very energetic kids.

-Whenever you guys got hurt during one of your adventures, you would always clean each other’s tears and get a bandage with cute designs. That, plus little kiss in the affected zone and you were as good as new!

-eventually tho, when middle school ended and high school began, Yunjin started to become closer too with other kids (the fimmies) who were rather well mannered, so she eventually toned it down a bit until she became such a model student that they all became the student council.

-I mean she looked happy, and you were happy for her fr, and it’s not like you guys stopped talking. You just missed your partner in crime from time to time tbh. You have feelings too Cmon.

-You’re not actually a bad person, as some might think because of the amount of times you’re sent to detention. (Even some of the big intimidating kids like you and told you if you ever have a problem they’ll beat the sht outta people wheidjfod cute).

-And you’re not trying to create problems for yourself nor others, it’s just your excess of energy sometimes makes you be a little impulsive and don’t stop to use some reasoning.

-Like that time that your friend and you got into a heated and serious argument about the best gummy flavor since they kept saying green and you were like ??? Freakin green when blue and red exist???

-One thing lead to another and you ended up causing a food battle.

-Worth it tho ‘cause you

-1. Got supported by majority and red flavor (PAPA-PALGANMAT) won. And

-2. You got sent to the principal’s office who decided your detention would be in the student council’s office.

-Which meant you could spend some time with Jen and also the rest of the girls.

-GOING BACK TO THEM.

-They do actually like you, specially Eunchae, who was their youngest member.

-She likes how carefree and energetic you are and sees you as one of her role models like the rest of her older friends (even when chaewon tells her not to)

-Chaewon, as the student council president, of course has a liiiittle bit of a love-hate relationship with the cute little menace who can’t seem to get tired of running around school creating chaos nskdndjd. Here here.

-She’s always scolding you.

-And Yunjin too, when she gives in and joins you in your antics.

-She‘s never mean, she does it ‘cause she cares for her best friend’s other best friend and for her school.

-Sometimes tho, she might get a little too intense, and lowkey hurt your feelings without meaning to or realizing.

-But Yunjin and Sakura always remind you is with 0 bad intension, she just gets too much into stucon pres mode.

-Y’all are cool tho.

-now for the actual main topic of this Lmao

-Having a best friend in the student council actually be having its advantages hsjdnckd

-Since you seem unable to stay away from trouble, you often have Yunjin to your rescue.

-whether it is to talk to the professors, or even the principal!

-She always convinces them to not give you heavy punishments that might seriously affect your record.

-And she always gets you out of detention early.

-Except when you stop her from it for two reasons.

-First is ‘cause you’re having fun with the actual bullies in the detention uenrdjfn. Making jokes or talking about stuff you guys like. She just looks at you like “…Are you serious” and everybody just looks at her and shrugs, The Office style.

-And second is when your detention is in the student council office, then you stay there with her.

-Initially she tells you to be quiet and work on your class work ‘cause she has to focus on the papers on her desk.

-But then you start talking to her with the excuse that you need help (bs Ofc)

-Then the classwork questions turn into small talk

-Then that small talk goes into intense talk

-And you guys are just being loud making jokes and just laughing together while throwing paper balls to each other.

-Until Sakura or God forbids Chaewon tells you guys to stop playing around and finish both your work for class/ stucon responsibilities.

-Her mom still adores you. To her, you’re still just that energetic kid who would always bring a big smile into her dear daughter’s face.

-Her dad tho-

-Listen he doesn’t hate you but he doesn’t exactly LIKES you neither anymore bdjdndk

-He’s just protective with his kid and doesn’t want her getting into trouble. He’s never too mean or anything but sometimes (specially when it comes to his ears that you got in trouble again) he might make comments that aren’t exactly nice.

-But Jen’s mom is always there to defend you from her husband tho, and after a short awkward moment, things are ok (for now at least).

-Her uniform always ends up a mess when she lets go of her calmed self and you get a glimpse of her old self.

-It’s still there, and it’s not like she’s pretending to be somebody she’s not. She is who she is.

- “People grow up and change a little, it happens to everybody. Even to you.” She said. And you know it’s true. And you’re ok with it. Getting a little nostalgic about your childhood together is not a bad thing. And again, you guys are still good friends and you love and appreciate each other, even if you grew up to be slightly different (or maybe not) people.

-Seriously if it wasn’t for her who knows where you’d be right now, at juvenile or something. Get yo sht together bro.

[alzirrx]

So apparently I’m the only person that actually liked the Tyler/Wednesday dynamic, despite a couple things, so I’m about to make an entirely uncalled for essay defending them because I became very emotionally attached in the one night I spent watching this show

To start, I liked how awkward Tyler’s character was right off the bat, because I feel like you don’t see that kind of character type as love interests in much media. A lot of the time it’s overshadowed for the Golden Retriever or Angsty Brooding Type™, and it was really refreshing seeing a different archetype as a love interest. The way him and Wednesday coupled together was always kind of awkward and uncertain, but it felt kinda more real that way considering that’s how a lot of high school romances start out. I really loved the idea of a kind of “baby hold my flower” dynamic between the two, crazy obsessive outcast gf/laid-back supportive normie bf who makes posters to cheer her on during her rampages

On the flip side, once the reveal happened there was so much potential. I wanted his redemption so bad. I wanted him to go back to how he was, while also letting loose more on his more angry feral side while also getting a scene where he got to be redeemed. I was waiting for him to turn to their side any minute, with a speech afterwards about how yes his actions were bad, and while they weren’t his choice persay he just might have enjoyed them, but that doesn’t mean he never liked her! That was all him! Because in all honesty I liked his sweet and caring side contrasted with her cold unfeeling demeanor, although I do see many arguments being made in favor of the serial killer/serial killer stopper dynamic which could be explored

And in terms of canon: the date was adorable, well thought out and showed he actually knew her (like how a scary movie wouldn’t actually scare her: a chick flick would), the way he liked her dancing at the Rave’N, how he always brought her quads, the birthday cake + coffee, all the little sweet gestures of his

(I know that’s only the things he did- but this post is more about him than Wednesday)

I’m fairness, the “I thought you were sending signals” bit felt a little out of left field since she acted the same the whole time, but I’ve learned from experience that if you like someone and you hope they like you back, you can basically turn anything they do at all into a signal

All I’m saying is, ship what you want, but I feel that they worked a lot better than some people give them credit for, and if he hadn’t have been the Hyde they would’ve been really good together, and they still could be

TL;DR, Wednesday x Tyler worked and would also have worked better under different circumstances

[zolovana]

Also a silly request of Team Bolas barking around like feral dogs lmao.

Or that cool moment where Phil is being chased by ElQuackity during the egg event, and Phil turns around and folds his wings at the top of the hill to show the whole Bolas team surging past him towards ElQuackity.

I wanted to draw them just running around Phil barking, but my thoughts went elsewhere

Phil - Golden retriever Foolish - Labrador retriever Baghera -  Spaniel (I don't know which one) Callbit - Border collie Carre - Bull terrier Slime - Jack russell terrier Jaiden - Siberian husky  Roier - Belgian shepherd malinois Etoiles - Wolf lol Ironmouse - Japanese spitz Maxo - Pug

bonus Bolas on their way to kick ElQuackity's ass

[onmyyan]

vamp delmonts make me think of the delicious trope of vampires falling for a werewolf… feel like gabe would be tripping over his feet da most bc i feel the more feral u are, the more u match his freak ya kno! and that gives him butterflies in his tummy…!! With caspian i like to think he falls for a big bad wolf type only for them to have golden retriever energy w him (trust cas to tame a hellhound…)..!!! ricky and his darling would just be beauty and the beast coded… (i love u literate gorgeous beautiful bodacious man who i would also maybe keep in a castle with my servants-turned-household appliances). Marcos gives classic vamp… mysterious, seductive, creature of the night… so i NEED him to have a werewolf w one braincell so he constantly breaks character bc its hard to be mysterious when the person u care about is a danger to everyone and themself, and he needs to steer them away from trouble, and oh—would ya look at that! His heart is on his sleeve 🫨 And mannnyyyy!! i think he’d have a tasty enemies/rivals to lovers thing going on. The whole ‘eugh dumb mutt’ ‘bloodsucker!’ banter and what not. And then they kiss duhhh 🫣

This is PERFECT IN EVERY WAY

[murderofravens]

I don't know why but I got this fic idea of a young adult Yuuji being a car garage mechanic and reader is his customer that comes in from time to time, but reader is dazed by Yuji's muscular form in a black tank top and gray jumpsuit halfway around his waist with his biceps, hands and face covered with sweat and grime. Yuji notices and goes with the flow of just showcasing his work and torso to her while he fixes cars. Reader thinks that he's a golden retriever guy that likes very friendly and passionate but she doesn't know about his perverted and filthy side.

She teases him one time in her visit while the garage had some workers, teasing himwith a short skirt and that leads to Yuji having her on a car, tearing her shirt and flipping her skirt and taking off her panties then eating her out and overstimulating reader, manhandling and dominating her while telling her to "be quiet princess, you don't want them to hear you being slutted out like a whore, yeah? Shouldn't have teased me" then proceeds to fuck her ferally, putting her own panty in her mouth so she won't make any noise while spanking her and growling "got such a amazing ass, cutie" and "want me to fuck you there too?" and all that nasty then cumming inside her while she squirts all over his dick and pelvis bone from how intense he railed her.

He then kisses her passionately, smiling at how blissed out she is and asks her when can he take her out for a date while he stashes her panties inside his pocket to jerk off with later😏😏😏

Damn this is overkill and FILTHY-

QHHBTHE FUCK WOULDNYOU DO THIS TO ME !! BECAUSE HE WOULD BE SO SO STRONG LITERALLY JUST IMAGINE BEING MANHANDLED BY HIM SQUIRMING AND STRUGGLING BECAUSE HE'S SO BIG AND SO DEEP AND SENSITIVE AND YOU'RE OVERSTIMULATED AND HE JUST DOESN'T STOP.. AND HE CUMS SOOO MUCH TOO OVER AND OVER AGAIN IT'S SO STICKY AND SWEATY AND THICK AND IM SYSJWUKSJF FUCK MY BRAIN IS TURNING OFF TURNING INTO MUSH I WILL LICK HIS SWEAT OFF HIM I DONT CARE I NEED HIM SOSPSOOSOS BAD

[swagammemnon]

Caught in Honey

Chp 1 | Next

Am I feral over these men? Yes. Feral enough to write a fic in the most disgusting PoV? Also yes. Here are the warnings; more to come as I add chapters. Basically, the premise is you and John are together, you used to be with Simon, but you don't know Simon is one of John's subordinates. Filth and fun ensue.

The keys jangle deafeningly in your lock, hurting the ears that had been subject to the endless pitiful howls of a golden retriever who’d been spayed today.  That on top of the grimy sensation on your hands from your last three appointments of the day being crusty, old, white dogs with crocodile tear stains.  Despite your exhaustion as you tumble through your doorway, you notice your elderly cat is not in his typical post on the keys table by the front door.  Notice that something in your renovated penthouse apartment is… off.

Slipping off your shoes, you quietly pull out the flashlight taser your boyfriend had gifted you a mere month after you started dating.  When you protested, you live in the suburbs for goodness’ sake, he’d replied in that deliciously gravely accent of his, It’s this or I assign a military escort when I’m away, love.  So, you’d taken it, rolling your eyes because you knew you’d never be able to win against him on this particular subject.  This was the first time you’ve ever reached for it.

Tiptoeing down the entry hall to your open floor plan kitchen and living space, you frown as you spot steaming pots on your stove, your cat happily sat at his filled food dish, munching away.  Unbothered furball.

You nearly scream as huge arms ensnare your waist, bag falling to the floor as you’re lifted from the ground.

But then a rough beard, familiar and ticklish, scratches along the shell of your ear.  Your stomach flipping over itself.

“Got you,” comes the familiar growl.

“John!” you nearly squeal, wiggling until he sets you on your feet so you can turn.  The moment you do, his lips are on yours, consuming your entire reality.  Molten heat pouring from this bear of a man into mouth, invading your veins, melting you into his arms.  Your heart immediately skips a beat, galloping faster as you feel the heady crush of his arms around you.  Snaking your arms around his neck, you let yourself dissolve, a welcome end to a long, grating day.  Between breaths, on swollen lips, you whisper, “You didn’t tell me you were back.  I would’ve made you something–”

“None o’ that, love.  ‘S my job to take care o’ ya,” he grumbles, chasing your lips for more.  More heat, more fire.

Still, the guilt twists in your tummy.  Yes, you’ve just finished your fourth of four ten hour shifts this week, but John… he’s in far more danger than you could ever imagine, risking his life on adrenal squeezing, back breaking missions.  Only to come home and cook you dinner… feed you cat .

“But–” you murmur, setting the flashlight on your counter so you can fist the soft cotton of his dark t-shirt.  He’s freshly showered too, smelling of moss, tonka and sandalwood.  The scent slides shackles around your wrists, drawing your arms tightly against his shoulders.

“Hush,” John commands, greedy bear paws sliding beneath your scrub bottoms, slipping them down the round curve of your ass.  “Just lemme feel ya.”  

You shiver as those huge palms close over the globes of your asscheeks, forcing you to your tiptoes.  Grinding your pelvis into his.  Where a delicious heat is already building.  In the end, there is no winning against John in a contest of chivalry.  Dogmatic devotion that had nearly frightened you away in the beginning. He’d shocked you early with that, staunchly refusing to let you open a single door, showering you with affection both verbal and physical, keeping you tucked beneath his shoulder on the inside of the sidewalk.  Small things.  Innocuous things.  Things you’ve never even thought of before as you made your own way in life.  Not until John.  Not until your ex…

But you shut that thought out immediately.  You weren’t together for a reason.  And John, sneaky little shit, had made himself a fixture of your life.  In the betweens of his deployments.  Even during–with bouquets of flowers delivered to your door or your hospital.  Your favorite meals delivered much the same.  Little texts when he could, pictures and videos that always had your hand sliding between your legs.

“Fuck, swee’art,” he groans against your mouth, walking you against the edge of your counter.  “Missed you so much.”  

He shoves your scrub bottoms down your legs, nipping at the corner of your mouth as he leans his weight into you.  Arching your spine with a large palm splayed along your lower back.  John is an extremely tactile man–and you discovered you were too.  John always shoved hands beneath clothing, not to initiate anything (sometimes) but just to soak in the skin to skin warmth.  You voice absolutely no complaints as his palms eat up your skin, coursing from the joint of your thighs and ass, up under your scrub top to scratch along your ribs, thumbs bullying beneath the wiring of your bra to graze the underside of your breasts.

You release a heavy breath, fingernails digging into his shoulders, bones already trembling as your body begins to remember the outline of him.  The weight of his muscles against you.  His intoxicating scent writhing in your nose.  The scrape of his calloused fingers along your skin.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his hairline as he mouths along your chin, his teeth drawn to your throat like a magnet.  Eagerly replacing the marks he’d left on you before this deployment.  Staining you anew as his own masterpiece.  His groan is rapacious, blasted heat scorching your tender skin.  “Let me clean up, first, baby.  I’m–”

“Don’t care.”  Fuck, his thick as molasses accent might as well be glomming onto your body, trapping in honey as the achiness in your muscles bubbles to the surface.  Your silly brain, now hardwired– trained , smarmy bastard–into relaxing, turning off.  His teeth are sharp and thrilling as razor blades against your throat, eagerly waiting for you to cut yourself on them.  “It’s your Friday, yeah?”

God, how you’ve missed his voice, how his hands cup your waist, your generous hips and drag you where he pleases.  Those torturous hands bully under your scrub top, clearing a path for hungry palms and bruising fingers.  You’ve missed those handprints too, painted along your body, a reminder of his strength, his passion, his protection.  Mindlessly, you nod, your gut knotting as he hoists your ass onto the cool counter without even a shred of effort.  If you really tried, if you truly wanted to, you’d never be able to escape him.  His job is his body, and he does it so fucking well.

“My sweet girl’s tired, then.  Working that pretty brain all week.  You deserve a li’l break, don’t you?” he cajoles, luring a wounded, beaten animal into his trap with the sweetest honey.  You go all too willingly.  Even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment, the admittance to your exhaustion, the weakness.   But there’s a reason John is the captain of his unit—perspicacious eyes stripping anyone and everyone to the bone within minutes of meeting.  You’d been no different.  And his idolatrous words cut straight through any walls your ex had forced you to raise, like the months you’d spent building them, fortifying them, were naught but air between you.

Your blurred thoughts shake away as John’s thick fingers suddenly close around your chin, fingertips pressing into your cheeks.  Puckering your pretty lips.  His enthralling jewel blue eyes are lidded and smug, a dangerously sharp edge glinting beneath.

“ Don’t you.”

John has made it his mission to carve self-compassion into your muscle and sinew.  Just as you had made it yours to him.  But it was hard .  After years of driving and driving and driving yourself into the ground.  Just one more semester, just one more class, just one more test, just one more year and you did it .  But at what cost to yourself?  Years of putting yourself aside in pursuit of your dream, it left crippled habits and cruel voices in your head.  Your ex—he’d started to heal the long-callused burns, help you lay your own foundation beneath the heavy weight of your life’s work.

But then it ended…

“Get ou’a your head,” John all but growls, tearing your focus violently back to him.  “You know the deal, love.  When I’m here, I get your attention, mm?”  Releasing your trembling breath, you nod, chin dipping into his warm palm.  Broken down all too easy after your exhausting week, clearing the path for your usually managed anxiety.  John knew that.  He knows everything .  “Now answer my question.”

You nod, a jittery hollowness bleeding through your limbs, leaving achy exhaustion in its wake.

John dips his mouth against yours, plush lips just touching as he teases you with a kiss.  “Words.”

“I do,” you plead, eyes stinging as he gazes sternly (fondly) down at you.

“Mmm, good girl.”

Those two words kick a moan from your chest, has your fingers clenching on the lip of the counter as John releases your chin.  Only to brutally rip your scrub top off, revealing your ugly, old-reliable bra.  You flush, staring down at the ratty thing.

“I would’ve worn something else if–”

“Swee’art,” John soothes, swiping greedy hands up your ribs, eclipsing your breasts in his eager grip.  You hum, both an acknowledgement and a barrier to the whimper threatening to spill over your lips.  Your breasts have been terribly sore this week.  And John begins kneading them with a force that has your knees shaking around his waist.  “Be quiet.  Let me enjoy my girl.”

Your jaw goes slack, already shivering as John hikes your knees over his shoulder, scrub pants tossed away, using one hand to flatten you against the counter before the other tugs the gusset of your panties away.  You jump as his breath fans your wet pussy, true slick only beginning to drip from your entrance.  You can’t help but cry out as his chapped lips seal against your clit, and you need to sink your fingers into his thick hair, grown out and shaggy after months away but your hands are dirty.  Never truly feeling clean from a day in your hospital until you shower. 

But when John wants something, there's no waiting, no denying. And fuck, doesn’t it make your eyes roll?  The long drag of his tongue up your slit sure does, hands curling around the counter’s edge as an anchor.

“Fuck, John,” you moan, lids closing as he settles his broad shoulder between your thighs.

“Looks like my pussy missed me too, eh?” He snarls smugly against you, laying a sloppy, wet kiss against your clit.  “Poor thing, already weepin’ f’me.” 

You gasp as he slides one finger into you, burying to the first knuckle. Not enough.   Not nearly enough after all you’ve had has been your fingers and the little bullet vibrator you managed to save when John pillaged your toy stash.  You don’t need toys when you have me.   Honestly?  You’d laughed in his face, but had been curious if he could live up to the statement.  Well, toys don’t live up to the thorough fuckings John carves into your body.

You whimper, eyes caught on the ravenous glint in John’s gaze as he watches his finger sink deeper. Groaning as you clamp down on the invasion. “Relax f’me, darlin’.”

Your soft, dripping walls tighten despite his command as his finger bottoms out. Curling into the spot you can never quite tease as well as him. Into the spot that has your thighs quivering, your elbows giving out fully and your back hits cool countertop.  One finger, one damned finger he rubs in maddening circles over that gummy, delicious spot inside you.  One finger is all it takes to have you shuddering with the bleeding of your tension.  Giving in.

You sigh, a knot in your spine uncoiling as you fully set the weight of your legs on his shoulders.  It is bizarre, what little things your brain filters out, like tension, until you feel it blissfully drain away.

“There she is,” John coos against your scorching heat, wetly sucking on your swollen bud like it’s his own personal sweet.  You moan through your nose, hips shifting as he begins to pump that single digit in and out.  You can feel the drag of every single callus on that finger. Too skilled and dexterous for his own good.  The slick trickling out of you soaks your panties, dampens your thighs. “Just lay back, swee'art. Lemme take care o’ ya.”

And so he does. In a sloppy, salacious mess. He stretches you on a second finger too soon, hips bucking into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around your clit before sucking the throbbing pearl into his mouth. The sting of stretching on him too soon merely sharpens the pleasure pooling behind your navel.  You scream when he nibbles down, nose buried in the soft flesh of your mons.  His other hand digs into the fat of your thigh, bruising and stalwart, ceasing any retreat.  You can feel his beard scraping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the friction burning as it shoots straight into your core.  His puffs of breath in between rude slurping and squelching fan like fire over your skin, draggin you further from coherent thought.

Your abdominals flex, his fingers petting your walls in a ploy to soothe the throbbing of your pretty little pussy.  But he merely makes you gasp, flinching as a sharp pulse of pleasure rips through you.

“John,” you moan quietly, breasts aching inside your bra, demanding he just rip the confining thing from your body.

 Sliding in a third finger, the silver-tongued bastard presses his other palm flat over your mons and lower belly, heavy and insistent as though he can make the fingers inside you touch his palm outside.  It makes you groan, arching off the counter though his stony hand keeps you pinned.  You feel so stuffed full, you can almost swear his fingers toy with the gummy tip of your cervix.  Your pretty lips part around the choked out moan John rips from you with a sudden, harsh thrust straight into your cute little womb.

Every time.  Every time your body forgets what it feels like to be fucked by this man.  Every time John carves himself a niche anew deep inside your body.  Fuck, this is only his fingers?

John laves your sopping cunt with his tongue, filthy wet sounds echoing in your ears as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.  Sucking with obscene fervor.  The scrape of teeth has you bucking into his mouth again, and he lets out a rock deep groan, vibrating straight into your core.

“Tha’s it, swee’art,” he purrs against the pulsing skin between your legs, the praise vining through your limbs, scraping delicious quivers against your bones.  “Get ya nice and loose before I split you on my cock.”

“ John ,” you whine, fingernails bending as you press them into the stone countertop.  Heat caresses your cheeks, those depthless eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Tha’ what you want, sweet girl?” He seats his fingers deep, massaging gyres into your heat.  His smirk is almost mean, mocking sympathy at you as your thighs tremor around his head.  He seats his lips against your clit—a threat as he starts finger fucking you without mercy.  Fast, squelching, your arousal coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down the sensitive skin between your arse cheeks.  

“Gonna give daddy an orgasm?” he croons before dragging the broad length of his tongue over your clit.  Your thighs twitch inward, your stomach pulling tighter and tighter.  John doesn’t stop watching you, your face for the slightest twitch for him to exploit.  You grit your teeth, tears gathering on your lashes as a half-scream leaks past your lips—the pressure, the heat, the intensity of John on you after so long almost fucking painful.  Brows knit together, all that pours from your mouth are beseeching moans, whines as his tongue moves from stroking to circling.  Depressing the bundle of nerves as he swipes it around your slick core.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, finally breaking as you viciously curl a hand in the collar of his shirt.  Wanting to pull him closer, push him away but you’re stuck.  Frozen and at his mercy.  “Fuck, please.”

John listens, mouth sealing against your clit as his fingers brutally stretch you, pounding into you as your  arousal pools embarrassingly in his palm, drips to the floor.  But his eyes merely darken, lids falling to half mast as he moans against you, feeling how your thighs close, tense and shaking.  Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, face pinched as that coil snakes tighter and tighter.  Painful and pressurized and you’re afraid you’ll crack apart once it releases.  Fuck, you’re already twitching, shuddering as the thunder gathers.  Claps with a deafening bang, lightning striking your blood as one last thrust you feel through your entire body ignites the storm.

Your voice chokes in your throat, body curling off the counter, nails digging bloody strips into John’s shoulder as you break apart.  The lightning grips you, John only making it worse as he works you through it, enraptured by the devastated visage you paint above him.  He could die a happy man right here, your voice finally breaking free with a wretched scream, tears tracking down your cheeks as shocks ripple your body.

You can feel your release gush against John’s beard, filthy and wet, the knowledge of how pathetic you became in mere minutes adding a sweet burn to the pleasure.  Clawing air into your lungs, you whine—sob—his name, your body belonging entirely to another being as it shudders, shatters with your stupefying release.  Your abdominals clench, muscles contracted and shaking to the point of ache , stealing more and more of your air.

Finally, finally , your orgasm releases you and you collapse back onto the counter, heaving miserable little whines on every breath.  John keeps his fingers stuffed inside you, his tongue turned supplicant and languid as he licks the last of your pleasure from you.  Licks until you're keening, pawing at his cheek, asking the man to take pity on you.  He does, eventually.  Rising from his knees and gently lowering your useless legs away from his shoulders.  

John presses down over you, letting you feel his sturdy weight as his mouth captures yours in a sloppy, heated, open-mouthed kiss.  You’re too weak to do much more than breath in his scent as he steals two, three, ten more kisses from you.  As though he is starved of your touch, needing to take in as much as he can as though you’ll disappear.

When he pulls back, you’re sluggish, eyes barely open as you pant like a dog in heat.  The man might as well have sucked the last of your energy out.  He sees this, and your belly warms in a calm, safe sort of way as he smiles down at you.  Entirely besotted, entranced, enchanted with the sleepy, fucked out look on your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mm?”

Drop a comment or follow the Ao3 link and tell me what you think! I'm really interested in getting feedback on my first 2nd person PoV piece ever.

[azrielhours]

Waiting for You

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Synopsis: Reader and Az are besties who are secretly in love w each other but refuse to admit it. She’s the only one who gets him out of his broody moods so she comforts him after a bad mission. She gets badly hurt on a mission and he goes feral rescuing her. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is he?” you asked Cassian as soon as you saw him in the foyer at the House of Wind. You’d been at a meeting with Feyre when Mor winnowed in to retrieve you.

“In his room. He’s been in there since last night,” Cassian told you in a hushed voice.

You balked. “Last night? Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner?”

“We were trying to talk him down ourselves, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. You know how he gets.”

Worry inched up your spine. “What happened?”

Cassian grimaced, mouth bracketed with tension. “Hybern soldiers ambushed a temple in Sangravah. Azriel and Rhys went there as fast as they could, but they didn’t get there in time to save all the priestesses. Az has been blaming himself since. Doesn’t wanna see anyone or leave his room.”

You nodded as Cassian walked you to Azriel’s room, falling into silence. You braced yourself for the task ahead. You were the only one Azriel lets in during incidents like this. Upon reaching his door, Cassian squeezed your shoulder. “Good luck,” he whispered, turning to leave.

Once Cassian was gone, you opened the door. Just as you expected, it was pitch black inside. Azriel’s shadows were frantically swarming around the room, blocking out all sources of light, reminding you of wild bats. You felt them brushing against you in phantom caresses. You closed the door behind you, allowing yourself to be completely immersed in the darkness. You waited a heartbeat, knowing the shadows were whispering to Azriel of your arrival. His silence indicated he knew it was you because if it were anyone else entering his room, he’d ask them to leave. But not you. Never you.

Squinting, you eventually found the faint blue glow of his siphons between the swarming blackness of his churning shadows. You begin padding over, hands raised in front of you to stop yourself from running into any furniture. You felt his bedpost, flinching slightly in surprise. He’s sitting on his bed, then. Bracing your hands onto it, you trail them over the edge of his bed as you move closer to that faint blue glow. Finally, you felt him, meeting the outside of his thigh with your roaming fingers. You moved to stand directly where you anticipated he was sitting, moving slowly to avoid hitting him suddenly. You took a tentative step forward and felt his spread knees bracketing the sides of your legs. You took another step forward, right between his open thighs, warily reaching forward until your fingers met his shoulders.

You didn’t say anything just yet. Bracing your hands flat onto his shoulders, you felt them rise and fall abruptly with his breathing. Then you felt him shift forward. You remained planted firmly in place, allowing him to take whatever he needed from you. Heavy, warm hands fell onto your hips, gently tugging you forward. You yielded to him, just as you’d already secretly yielded so much of yourself to him. You felt his head lower onto your chest, forehead resting on your sternum. Your left hand moved to cradle the back of his neck, your right hand stroking his hair back. You felt him breathe deeply, felt your heart break at his pain. He remained where he was, gripping your hips and breathing into you; gradually, his shadows slowed their black churning, stopped the restless swarming, and light at last trickled into his room. First in fractures like beams through a mosaic, then spilling in like a cleansing mist.

The golden glow of the sunset outside basked his room, allowing you to see once more. Still, you said nothing and remained where you were to let him take his time. You looked down at the male you loved so dearly, your best friend, and frowned to see he was still in his Illyrian leathers. Still caked with blood. He mustn’t have taken them off since returning from the mission last night, mustn’t have slept at all. You silently cursed Cassian for waiting so long to tell you. Azriel takes a final deep, shuddering breath, and slowly raised his head off your chest. You meet his gaze, still stroking back his hair, finding a haunted look in his eyes, dark circles beneath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper gently. He just shakes his head, breaking your gaze. “Az, sweetheart.” You bit your lip, trying to tread carefully. “We need to get you out of these leathers. Yeah?” He just nods. That’s a good sign, at least. He reaches to begin undoing the straps and buckles across his torso. His fingers are caked with blood, making you frown once again. He glanced up to catch the frown. “Is that blood yours?”

“No,” he finally spoke, voice rough from disuse. “It’s the Hybern commander’s. I didn’t leave any survivors.” No remorse in his voice.

“Good,” you say honestly, holding his gaze. You’ve never once balked from Azriel’s deeds, his enactment of justice. There’s grim understanding in his eyes now, at your acceptance of who he is, his light and dark. You reach for his leathers. Aside from the usual leathers, he also had protective gear on his shoulders and down his arms. The dark knight incarnate. You struggle to unbuckle his leathers beneath the partial armour, moving your fingers to work those free instead. You frown slightly in frustration. Azriel catches this and goes to stand. You take a step back. At his full, towering height, you walk around him to undo the armour bindings. You remove the protective gear on his right shoulder; once it was undone, you try to carefully lower it to the ground, but it’s much heavier than you anticipated. Azriel takes over before you drop the heavy metal onto your feet, easily hauling it off himself with one hand. You repeat the motions with his left shoulder. Then you remove the protection off his upper arms, leaving only his Illyrian leathers.

You walk back to his front, gazing tentatively at his face to see how he’s doing. He holds your gaze, eyes clearer than they were when you first saw them in the light. Progress. You gently take his hand and silently lead him to his washroom. You turn the bathtub faucet on, pouring various tonics and soaps into the water. You turn back and find him undoing the last of his straps and dagger holsters. You walk up to him and reach for the bindings holding the leathers together. Once again, he yields the task to you.

You undo the bindings, reaching for the neckline of the leathers, and slowly pull it down his frame. He pulls his arms out of the sleeves with either hand, then shimmies his arms out of the top, exposing his abdomen. You run your eyes over his exposed form, searching for injuries, finding none aside from some bruising. You meet his gaze once more, finding it already on your face. You turn, silently telling him to remove the rest of his leathers himself. You hear the clothing being dropped into a pile, feel him shift behind you, and hear him lower himself into the water.

You turn to find him submerged, the bubbles and murky water concealing his lower half, though you ignored the voice in your head insisting he wouldn’t care if you saw him naked as the day he was born. You go sit on the edge of the tub, behind where his back rested. Filling a small bucket with water, you shield his face with your free hand and pour the water into his hair with the other. His eyes close, exhaling in relief. His submission to your care pulled on your heartstrings, bringing about all kinds of implications you shoved to the back of your mind. Azriel didn’t know you loved him, no one did, and you certainly wouldn’t be the fool who ruined your friendship by telling him how you felt.

You washed his hair, pouring as much love and care as you could into the action, saying with your hands what you could never tell him with your tongue. You took some soap and moved onto his upper body. He obliged, holding his arm out for you. You moved down his arm, taking extra care with his hands, cleaning the blood off thoroughly. You repeated the motion with his other arm, then gave him the soap in his hand in a silent command to take over. “I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?” He nodded in confirmation.

You waited for him on his bed, listening to the sound of the faucet turning off and Azriel shuffling around as he dried himself. He came out of the bathroom with just a towel around his hips. You averted your gaze, blushing as if you hadn’t just undressed and washed him yourself. The irony wasn’t lost on Azriel either because he let out a huff of amusement.

You allowed him to change in privacy, only looking back up when he came and stood directly in front of you, clothed in pyjama bottoms and a white tee. You found a small smile on his face, making your heart swell. You got off his bed in a hurry, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, and burying your head into his shoulder. He hugged you back tightly around your shoulders. You pulled back to get another look at his improved state, but Azriel wasn’t done with you just yet. He moves his hold to your waist, pulling you back to his body, and drops his head down to your shoulder where he rests his forehead, breathing you in once more. You’re momentarily shocked by the vulnerable display, but you quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, closing your eyes at the sensation. You don’t know how long the two of you stay there, but you don’t dare break away this time. Azriel finally rises, meeting your gaze.

“Better?” you ask softly.

“Better.”

There’s a softness in his eyes that has your heart stuttering, not wanting to give in to the hope you feel swelling in your chest. Best friends, you remind yourself. He’s just in a vulnerable headspace. You step back. “You haven’t had anything to eat, have you?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have much of an appetite.”

You frowned. “I’m gonna go get you something to eat. Okay?”

That softness remained in his eyes. He gave another small smile. “Okay.”

“Wait for me,” you said. His softened gaze endured.

“I’m waiting for you,” he said. You held his gaze, felt an unspoken charge pass between the two of you, and you turned to leave.

~

“I’m assuming it went well,” Cassian said as he came into the kitchen behind you.

The House had a nice little dinner prepared for Azriel, nothing too hard on the stomach. “Yes, he’s doing better. He bathed and changed. Why didn’t you tell me to come sooner, Cass?” you frowned at the male as he came to lean beside you against the counter.

He had a knowing smile you chose to ignore. “Because we thought we could handle your boyfriend this time without all the theatrics.”

You blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right. There’s just another super secret explanation for why you’re the only one who can calm him down when he gets all broody.”

“It’s because he’s my best friend.”

Cassian dramatically clutched his chest. “Don’t do me like that Y/N.” You laughed, taking the tray to leave, but Cassian wasn’t done. “The day you finally admit you’re in love with each other is the day you make me a very rich male.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not in love.” You turned to glare at him as you left the kitchen.

“Me when I lie.”

You barked a laugh, despite yourself.

“Bye Cassian. Pain in my fucking ass.”

His laughter trailed after you as you made your way back to Azriel’s room. There, you found he was indeed waiting for you. He looked settled in the light. He smiled when he saw you, lightly patting the spot beside him on the bed. You couldn’t stop your smile back even if you tried, happily making your way over. You carried his food in your hands, and he carried your heart in his.

~

The next day, you and Mor found yourselves coming up to the Sangravah temple. Rhys asked the two of you to do a damage assessment. Azriel was initially assigned this part of the mission, but you volunteered in his place, not wanting him to fall back into the self-blaming headspace. You’d remained in your civilian clothes, hoping to offer comfort to the surviving priestesses. You made your way through the temple, Mor taking the outside perimeter. You walked past the vestibule pillars, not seeing any priestesses. Movement at last caught your eye in a shadowy corner in one of the inner divisions, drawing you in. Once you entered, you halted in your tracks, expecting to find a mourning priestess, but instead being met with three Hybern soldiers.

You assumed a defensive stance. “Well, well,” one of them drawled, a sickening smirk on his face as he took you in. “I thought we were done with you creatures, but the Dark Mother is good.” You palmed your daggers, wondering how you’d get Mor’s attention in time. The Soldiers tutted in mockery. “Poor little priestess came back for revenge?”

You glared, slowly backing out of the room without turning, hoping they’d take the bait and follow you to the main corridor, closer to Mor’s access. They happily crept forward like predators seizing in on prey. Gullible fools. They were making this easy. Suspiciously easy, you realized, when –

You started at the feeling of a hard body behind you. Turning to attack, you found two more soldiers. With your back to the original assailants, you had to act quickly. You began swinging and lunging your daggers. Two of the soldiers grabbed your arms, disarming you; a third holding your legs to keep you from kicking. You thrashed in their hold, screaming in frustration. Panic seized your throat. You shouted for Morrigan. The soldiers laughed, making you thrash harder with rage. One backhanded you hard enough to momentarily cease your thrashing. Before you could recover, another backhanded blow whipped your head to the other side.

You were tackled to the ground, the soldier who hit you straddling your stomach, letting his weight knock the breath out of you as he continued to deliver blows, fists this time. You fought to stay conscious, fought to fill your lungs with enough breath to scream. Where is Mor? Praying she’d find you, praying she wasn’t also getting ambushed, you continued your futile thrashing until unconsciousness pulled you under.

~

Light drew you from your slumber, making your head throb. You didn’t remember falling asleep. You tried to feel the source of the pain in your head, bringing a hand up to your forehead. You felt your fingers constricted in wrapping, making you open your eyes in confusion. You found yourself in your bed. Azriel was by your side in an instant. You frowned at the sight of him, hair dishevelled, dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked distraught. “Az? What’s wrong?” Your voice was rough, mouth dry. He handed you water, which you sat up to drink. It all came rushing back to you, the attack at the temple. You gasped. “Where’s Mor?”

“She’s fine. She wasn’t hurt. We got there in time.”

“What?”

Azriel swallowed. “Mor spoke mind to mind with Rhys when she heard the soldiers in the temple. We all winnowed in as fast as we could. Me, Cass, and Rhys.”

“Oh,” you said. Azriel ran his hands through his hair. You caught sight of dried blood on his split knuckles. “What happened?”  

Azriel exhaled. “We found them crowding over your unconscious body, Y/N.” You felt a twinge of guilt at the panic that must have caused. Azriel held your gaze. “I killed them all. I killed them all with my bare hands. Didn’t have to use one blade.” You shuddered at the intensity in his eyes, reaching your hand to him. He took it in both of his, frowning at the wrapping.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” you tried weakly.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” he said. The guilt was written all over his face.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, Az. I volunteered to go.”

“It was supposed to be me.”

“I know, Az. It’s okay, really.”

He kept looking at your hand cradled gently between his own. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The sight of you unconscious on that floor, the blood on your face…” he closed his eyes, shuddering at the memory. He tried again. “When I was flying you back to the House, the whole way back, all I could think about was–” he cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Was what?” you coaxed gently.

Azriel met your gaze. “All I could think about was how I’d been too much of a coward. I… I never–” he stopped again, hesitation filling his eyes.

You squeezed his hands in encouragement.

Azriel took a deep breath. “I never told you, Y/N, that… that I love you. I’ve–I’ve been in love with you.” He took a shuddering breath. “So much,” he rasped, his voice husky with emotion. His brows were knitted together, like the admission brought him anguish. Every thought eddied from your mind, eyes widening. He loves me. “I just wish I had the chance to tell you sooner. I’m sorry– if you don’t feel the same way, I know it’s selfish for me to–” he cut himself off again, closing his eyes in reprieve, schooling his ragged breathing.

“Hey,” you said gently. You tried to keep your emotions abated, tried and failed to stop your eyes from watering. He loves me. He opened his eyes, and the torment in them had you shattering. You reached your bandaged hands up to where he was sitting on your bed, cradling his face. He kept his stare on you, eyes cautious like he was waiting to receive anger, perhaps rejection. The vulnerability in his eyes, the pain in them – your tears began falling.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, it’s okay– we can just go back to being friends.” Your heart broke at his hesitation, his inability to believe you felt the same way he did. He brought his hands to your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as they fell.

“Azriel,” you rasped. He visibly braced himself. “I love you too,” you breathed. He closed his eyes, the relief so potent on his face that you didn’t know whether to cry harder or laugh. You gently pulled him into you, and he obliged. He buried his head into your neck, breathing deeply. Your arms immediately wound around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as you could to your chest. He groaned lightly, the vibration reverberating into your chest. You laughed at his reaction, the sheer intensity of it all. You felt him laugh too, felt it right against your neck.

“Mother above,” you heard a voice huff. You turned your head to find Cassian leaning in the doorway, watching the two of you. You audibly exhaled in annoyance. Azriel simply ignored him, not even bothering to raise himself from your embrace. “You two are the most dramatic people I’ve ever met. No wonder you’re so lovesick for each other. Did you rehearse your monologue while she was in a coma, Az?” You felt Azriel grin against your neck.

“Y/N,” Azriel’s baritone voice was muffled.

“Yes, Azriel,” you countered.

“Tell Cassian to get the fuck out before I also kill him with my bare hands.”

“Cassian,” you chimed earnestly, “Azriel says you need to get the fuck out before he kills you with his bare hands.” Cassian just laughed at your sarcasm and closed the door as he left. Busybody.

Azriel finally rises from your embrace. “We’re never gonna hear the end of this,” he said. His eyes were brighter than you’ve ever seen them, focused and settled.

“Definitely not,” you agreed. You frowned once more at his exhausted state. “Did you sleep at all?”

Azriel shook his head, not breaking your gaze. “I was waiting for you.”

The unsaid implication didn’t go over your head. “I know, Az. I was waiting for you too.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrag-blog

[queerdiazs]

see the cool thing about buddie is they’re so versatile. black cat and golden retriever duo? they take turns. dumb and dumber? they flip a coin. fell first and fell harder? depends on when you believe they fell in love. feral idiot and tired? begins eps. LIKE. IT ALL FITS!

[wxnheart]

𝐅*𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Morgott - This is really the gist of your dynamic. You've fucked around so many times that Morgott was bound to snap. And snap he did. Time to find out, Tarnished. Next thing you know, you found yourself on the ground, looking up at the Omen's enraged face. And his angry, leaking dick. Oh. Oh. Need a little help there, Morgott? Guess he did, what with the way you're practically loving on it.

Mohg - You thought you were cute trying to fuck around but Mohg showed you he was cuter by making you find out. Too bad it comes with a side of orgasm denial and making you ride him ceaselessly as he reclines on his throne. Hah. Thought you did something there, didn't you?

Godrick - Fuck you, Godrick, okay? Just... fuck you. You don't know who's worse, you or him, but what you do know is that you tried him one too many times to the point that his multiple arms and hands practically rip your clothes off you and make you scream and beg for more. Bonus points for Godrick making you suck on two of his fingers to 'shut you up'. Not for long, you spineless bastard.

Godfrey - Um... lmao. Why would you even try him, love? He's a grappler at his core and you don't even try to wrestle yourself out of his grip. Your entire being goes slack when feel the telltale signs of his arousal press against you and by the Erdtree. No wonder Marika liked him so much...

Radahn - Well, you don't even finish fucking around before he has you suspended in the air, his tongue and fingers doing stuff to your body that you never thought possible. He told you he'd have you screaming his name. Don't know why you didn't believe him.

Radagon - He's soft-spoken as always. But there's an edge to his voice that makes you shudder, doubly so as he thrusts into you brutally. Ferally. The walls of your bedchamber reverberate with the sounds of his name. And all who has ears to hear knows Radagon has claimed his prize.

Varré - Varré is an ass so why not bother him? And so you do. And his response is to... not fuck you. Because that's what you weren't expecting. And so it turns into a game of cat-and-mouse and you're more than 1000% sure you two are going to hatefuck in the near near NEAR future.

Patches - In this scenario, it's the reverse. He fucks around because he wants to find out. He wants YOU to fuck HIM. He's glad you got the hint (finally) but did your epiphany have to happen while you're fucking him silly?

Godwyn - He's an adorable golden retriever that you never really took seriously until he fucking snapped. You didn't think the man was capable of fucking you senseless, did you? You were very pleased. And very satisfied. You also reveled in the love bites he blessed you with. And poor Godwyn is so flustered but you can't help but love the way his blush deepens when you flash him a lecherous grin. You'll have to do this often.