#i need to paw at his face like a cat getting comfortable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long.

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh.

The dreams weren’t uncommon.

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten.

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake.

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom.

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley.

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy.

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter.

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?”

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance.

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.”

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.”

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!”

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords.

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him.

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold.

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin.

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more.

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him.

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift.

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you.

“Call me Ember.”

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter.

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you.

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.”

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now.

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort.

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf.

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories.

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock.

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace.

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted.

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine.

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight.

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt.

“Ember…”

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper.

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right.

He left.

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough.

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears.

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways.

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall.

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing.

The same boy you still loved.

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny.

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment.

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down.

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you.

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned.

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life.

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free.

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see.

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast.

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle.

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.”

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist.

He was shaking slightly.

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you.

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths.

But something went wrong on one of his deployments.

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet.

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months.

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance.

He didn’t let you touch him.

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words.

‘Don’t look for me.’

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together.

All of those years.

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided.

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs.

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages.

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend.

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness.

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.”

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock.

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders.

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.”

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank.

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t.

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.”

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again.

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes.

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours.

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes.

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!”

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen.

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!”

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly.

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.”

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.”

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe.

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor.

A pact of loyalty.

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life.

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet.

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself.

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?”

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.”

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon.

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he?

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through?

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even.

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth.

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—”

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip.

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.”

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid.

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern.

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking.

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath.

“Need you t’know it.”

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment.

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy.

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain.

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up.

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks.

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head.

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself.

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.”

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax.

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly.

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you.

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it.

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way.

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence.

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist.

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name.

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long. Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not.

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?”

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?”

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you.

With you survival became secondary.

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years.

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin.

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.”

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill.

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist.

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.”

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth.

And he’d give you it. All of it.

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time.

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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donutz · 3 months

Text

Catnap x reader fluff Alphabet[1/8]

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

Affection(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

— Before Catnap became the not so nice Catnap, he was very affectionate

— You would be by yourself and he would cuddle against you, he can get embarrassed but only when people(or toys) point it out

— He was an absolute sweetheart, and still somewhat is

— Before, he would rub his head against you, hold your hand, purr, y’know the way cats show affection

— Now, since he’s much bigger, he curls around you, he knocks over stuff right in front of you(to him that’s affection), he shows you the dead bodies of toys and humans, somehow that’s also how he shows it, it’s like a gift I guess??

— Like how cats bring their owners a dead mice

— He still purrs around you, but it’s a really distinct sound, you have to lean in a lot to hear it

Best friend(How would they be as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

— Before, he would approach you from time to time and just stare, it’s kinda his way of saying hi

— Now, uhm.. Depending on how you acted before ‘it’ happened you would, A) Be dead or B) Be nearly dead, or not, depending if you’re a heretic to him

— Before, he would BARELLYYY approach you, and this is before! You have to do it yourself, he’s a silent kitten

— After, as in when he was a lot more distant from the other critters, it would start from you approaching him, he wouldn’t ever approach you

Cuddles(Do they cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

—Yall, this a cat we’re talking about

— Of course he would! Not all cats like to cuddle but they do like resting on their owners lap for the rest of their life

— Especially when you’re sleeping!

— He would ask permission to, but that way is him just staring at you while you’re asleep

— It was happening so often that you had to just straight up tell him

— “Catnap”.

— “?”

— “If you ever want to cuddle up to me when I’m sleeping, you can do so. You don’t need to stare at me okay?”

— “Ok-ay”.

— You gave him a hug after that, no hard feelings!!

Domestic(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

— His name is Catnap, he loves settling down!

— While watching people!

— I wouldn’t recommend letting Catnap cook

— Especially since he’s flammable

— Some of you might get what I mean

— When it comes to cleaning? I’d say he’s decent. He kinda falls asleep or just stares at the floor and gets distracted

Ending(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

— Catnap is a little boy ^_^

— The only type of ‘break up’ is killing you or stop talking to you

Fiance(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

— I don’t know about the commitment part but!! ^_^

— In the, “Let’s get married when we’re older!” way, like child way, he would not mind having a child marriage

— Like little ring pops instead of rings that cost $1k!

Gentle(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

— Before, he would listen to anything you had to say! You’re sad? Tell him about it! If you want

— As gentle as possible physically, wouldn’t say it, but would do it, like he wouldn’t say he’d be as gentle with you as possible

— In front of others

— Now, he would listen, but if you’re riding on his back or something

— He needs to ‘take care’ of the place y’know?!

— Physically, he needs to try even harder to be gentle, like with his paws when he’s grabbing you

Hugs(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

— He gets a little confused, but he will 100% accept it!

— He will have a big smile on his face!

— He mainly does it when he’s tired, but if he does it randomly it will be a quick one, or a long one, but that’s pretty rare

— His hugs are very comforting! Especially when you’re sad

— His lavender scent is the best.

— One time it made you fall asleep when you guys were having a long hug

I love you(How fast do they say the L-word?)

— RARE, THAT IS SO RARE

— You try your hardest to record it

— Before, if someone said to say it to you, he’d get a little shy but say it quietly

— He says it out of nowhere!

— You’re never able to catch it :(

— Now? Uhh, It’d take a few minutes but he’d muster it out eventually

Jealousy(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

— I saw this headcanon in where he’d get jealous unless it was with DogDay and I HIGHLY agree with that(creds to lovelybee666, if you’re reading this on Wattpad, they’re on Tumblr ^_^)

— He can get jealous, depending on how the other person or toy interacts with you

— If they’re all touchy, he’ll drag you away when they’re not looking

— Then he just stares at you as if saying, “Explain. Now.”

— He’s not thattt possessive but he can get reallyyyy jealous

— Then you’ll ‘explain’ and he’ll just chill with you for an hour or so before you can go back to them

Kisses(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

— Sooo since his mouth is permanently a smile I have no idea on how it happens

— But what I imagine is that he uses his top ‘lip’ and gives you a smooch like that

— He likes ‘kissing’ you on the cheek

— He sometimes ‘kisses’ you on the forehead but all you see(if you’re not closing your eyes) is just darkness

— He would like forehead kisses I think

— Makes him feel all special

— But after ‘it’, if you did do that he’d stand still for a sec then sit down and rub his gigantic head on you

Little ones(How are they around children?)

— Not in the ‘having kids way’ since it says little ones, but I don’t think he’d be very active with the kids

— Unless it’s time to sleep

— He’s like a night guard it’s kinda terrifying

Morning(How are mornings spent with them?)

— Catnap never knows if it’s morning.

— But there is kind of an alarm that ‘wakes him up’

— I know this isn’t morning like but he sleeps throughout the day

Night(How are nights spent with them?)

— Adding to what I said, he rarely sleeps at night

— But if he does, he’ll be so cuddly!

— It’s so cute

— He purrs in his sleep

Open(When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

— He wouldn’t

— If you asked?

— You’d have to ask a lot, before and after the incident

— It will take a long while for him to open up about everything

— It’s like how games slowly make certain parts to it so they can reveal more lore

Patience(How easily angered are they?)

— Can get angry if you actually ignored him

— He just stares at you if he gets angry, if he’s angry because of you

— You can kinda see it in his eyes

— Like you could be mad at him for killing nearly all the smiling critters and just ignore him

— He will follow you wherever you go, then you pick you up by the back of the neck with his mouth(somehow) and take you to the thing that he knows will make you happy

— After a while, he’ll take you to his sleeping area, y’know(unless you don’t) the one that’s on the right of you before you meet Dogday

— And then it’s time to sleep

Quizzes(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

— Catnap will most likely remember everything about you

— His memory is very good

— You could mention your favorite color and he’ll remember it if you ask him, even 5 years later

— He'd rememeber every detail

Remember(What is their favorite moment in the relationship?)

— The time you still loved him even after the hour of joy.

Security(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

— Very, he would see a tiny spike and use his paw to pry you away from it

— He’d pick you up from the back of your neck, use his paw, protect you with his body, or just absolutely destroy what would hurt you

— He wouldn’t mind you protecting him

— But please, he can do it himself

— I bet he won’t even get scared at a cucumber

Try(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

— You guys don’t have dates

— But before, if you did, there would be a little table with a yarn knitted candle, with Catnap in a suit while you’re in whatever you wanna wear

— And then you start talking because Catnap is never the type to start conversations

— Anniversaries?

— “Ann-ver-sary..”

— “Huh?”

— He gave you a paper

— ‘Happy Aniversairy’

— His spelling was a little off but that was okay, plus he added little hearts!

— His gifts is dead stuff

— Or, your favorite objects!

— Like your favorite flowers, pencil, doll, anything he can find will be a gift!

Ugly(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

— How he can just not interact with you for a whole day

— Having Dogday hung up even though you tell him everyday to stop having him there

— You’d do it yourself

— But both Catnap and Prototype won’t like that

— You don’t care about Prototype but you do for Catnap

— You’ve tried convincing Dogday to just side with the two

— Multiple times

— But Dogday always goes silent

Vanity(How concerned are they with their looks?)

— He does NOT care ^_^

Whole(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

— If he killed you, and you were someone really important to him, I’d think he’d be bummed for the longest time

— He’d even zone out when Prototype would be instructing him

Xtra(A random head cannon for them.)

— Love language is maybe slightly physical touch, but gift giving is his go to

Yuck(What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

— When you yell at him

— When you ignore him

— You going against Prototype

— How you ‘pester’ him about Dogday

Zzz(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

— You know when he had his cardboard cutout? Yeah, he snores, loud.

— But it happens only sometimes

— Most of the time he’s purring

#poppy platime fanfic #poppy playtime headcannons #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #catnap x reader #catnap fluff alphabet #catnap headcanons #catnap #smiling critters #fluff alphabet

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jobean12-blog · 5 months

Text

It's a Wrap!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Ft Alpine and Winter)

Word Count: 1,211

Summary: Getting anything done with two floofy floofs around is never easy...of course they're just so cute but also pains in the butt (in the best way!)

Author's Note: Just love Bucky with his animals so much and this idea popped into my head. There is no particular Holiday or occasion mentioned here so whatever one you want to use is perfect! The dog, Winter, is the one I always use in my stories- he has three legs and Bucky adopted him and of course there is Alpine our fav kitty. The photos in my moodboard are what I imagine they'd look like! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluff and fun and the cutest animals ever!

“Hey mister!”

Bucky gently tugs the bow from Alpine’s claws.

“That’s not for you to play with! You have plenty of toys!”

Bucky turns to Alpine’s toy bin and points with a stern look. “See…too many toys!”

Winter hops over and nudges Bucky’s arm with a cold nose, a large stuffed duck hanging from his mouth.

Bucky scratches behind the dog’s ears. “I know buddy. That’s your favorite duck.”

Winter’s tail thumps loudly against the side of the couch as he cocks his head to the side.

“If I play now I’ll never get this done,” Bucky tells Winter softly.

He then leans closer to the dog and whispers in his ear. “And if Alpine doesn’t quit his shit I’m gonna have to lock him in the bathroom.”

Winter drops his toy and barks loudly, side eyeing the cat.

“I know,” Bucky says in comradery. “But let’s see how we do.”

Winter promptly does his best stretch and then lays down right next to Bucky.

“Ohhhh big stretch,” Bucky says before giving Winter a pat.

The dog’s long, fluffy and white tail thumps a few more times before he settles quietly, the majority of his body pressed against Bucky’s outstretched leg.

Alpine, not wanting to be left out, sashays over and sits right in front of Bucky, looking up at him with big blue expectant eyes.

“Alpine,” Bucky sighs. “You can’t sit there bud. How am I supposed to wrap?”

The cat blinks several times and then lifts his paw to lick it, clearly uncaring.

Bucky scoops up the cat and positions him on his thigh next to Winter.

Winter ears go up and he sniffs Alpine a few times before settling back down. Alpine gently bats at Winter’s nose before he lays on his side and gets comfortable.

“FINALLY!” Bucky huffs. “Now maybe I can get some things wrapped before Mommy gets home.”

At the word “mommy,” both animals perk up.

“She’ll be home soon,” Bucky assures them with soft pets. “But I need to at least get her gift wrapped first!”

Bucky looks between the rolls of wrapping paper. “Which one should I use?”

Neither Winter nor Alpine respond so Bucky makes a commitment on his own. As soon as he starts to unroll the paper Alpine pounces, pawing and poking at it.

“Alpine!” Bucky chides as he lifts him up. “You can’t play with that!”

Alpine meows loudly as his legs swing back at forth and his tail swishes side to side. Bucky turns the cat so they are face to face.

“Listen you. Unless you’re gonna help you have to behave!”

“MEOW!”

“I’ll put you in the bathroom!”

Winter’s head lifts and he huffs.

“I know I won’t but still…” Bucky grumbles.

He takes Alpine and sets him on his shoulder. “Stay there!”

Alpine digs his claws into Bucky’s Henley and sits perched atop his broad shoulder.

Winter rests his head on Bucky’s thigh.

“Ok, here we go again,” Bucky sighs.

He takes your gift and sets it down in the center of the paper and begins to fold it.

Winter’s wet nose immediately pokes at the paper, leaving a wet spot.

“Doggo!” Bucky says sharply. “Watch that honker.”

Winter’s tail wags still and he scoots closer, inspecting everything with his big black nose.

Once Bucky has it wrapped as best he can he looks at the bag of ribbon.

“This one?” he says as he holds up a particularly pretty one.

Alpine immediately swats at it with a clawed paw and Winter tries to give it a small nibble.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters. “You two are no help!”

Bucky secures the bow as best he can then looks over his handiwork.

“I mean…,” he starts as he looks it over. “It’s the thought that counts right?”

Alpine grows bored with the now wrapped gift and starts to bat at the stray hairs that have fallen loose from Bucky’s bun.

Winter licks Bucky’s hand.

“Thanks guys.”

The sound of the lock turning alerts everyone to your arrival and Bucky quickly hides the gift then follows the animals in their rush to greet you.

“Hi doll face,” Bucky says as he takes you in his arms.

Winter shimmies his large body between the two of you until you pet him and Alpine slips between your legs to rub against you.

“Hi guys!” you smile.

“We missed you,” Bucky says.

“I missed you all more.”

You wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck and press your lips to his.

“What have you been up to?” you whisper.

“Nothin’ much,” Bucky answers.

Winter barks.

You raise an eyebrow and slip from Bucky’s grasp. As you approach the living room Winter bounds past you and starts to dance his paws on top of the mess Bucky left.

“Wrapping?” you ask as Bucky slides up behind you and circles his arms around your waist.

“I thought I should get started,” he murmurs against your ear.

“Want some help?” you ask.

“Definitely,” he answers. “Between these two floofs,” and he motions to Alpine and Winter, “I only got one thing wrapped.”

Bucky sits and leans back along the couch, spreading his legs wide and patting between them. You sit in the open space and rest your back to his chest.

As soon as you grab the wrapping paper, Alpine appears out of nowhere and attacks it.

“See what I’ve been dealing with!” Bucky whines even as you feel his body shake with laughter. “A menace!

Winter, as if knowing he was left out, tries to smash his way onto Bucky’s lap.

“TWO MENACES!” Bucky adds in a huff.

You giggle and pick up Alpine, smooshing him to your chest and cooing at him sweetly.

“Have you been driving daddy nuts all afternoon my sweet boy?”

Alpine nuzzles his head under your chin and purrs.

“And what about you,” you say to Winter as you wrap your free arm around his fluffy neck and scratch his head. “Who’s my good boy?”

Winter’s whole-body wiggles in joy and he starts to lick your face.

“Aw Buck. They couldn’t have been that bad!”

Bucky grumbles something inaudible from behind you and it only makes you love on the babies more.

“How about we just have a cuddle party? We can wrap later,” you suggest.

“I love this plan,” Bucky hums. “But first…we need sustenance!”

He stands and then helps you up before walking into the kitchen. You hear the rustle of bags and the banging of cabinets as you prepare the couch with the pillows and blankets.

As soon as you’re seated Winter paws at the spot on the cushion where he usually lays. You give him a small lift to help him up and then watch as Alpine walks along the edge of the couch and jumps down to the pillow below.

Bucky comes back in with his arms full of goodies.

“Look at this cuddle party,” he muses as he sits next to you.

You snuggle into Bucky’s side and Winter snuggles closer to you. Even Alpine curls up close to Bucky, his warm head pressed against his metal arm.

With your snacks at the ready and Lord of the Rings on the screen you settle into the soft warmth and comfort of your little family.

@hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @goldylions

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky and alpine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #alpine barnes #winter barnes

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d0youc0py · 4 months

Note

So, I have a request for angst, but with Young Reader, and they actually do call them an ask for help or a place to stay for a bit because of a nasty fight they got into with their parents and just need to leave the situation, perhaps they could have hid an injury(Welt, slap mark, bruising) from the boys only for boys to see it when they take off their coat/jacket. Its cool if you dont feel comfortable with this ask, you dont have to do it.

“Hey, John.” You started into the phone.

“You alright, Honey?” He questioned. You nearly rolled your eyes. The man had known you since you were as tall as his knee and could always tell when something was wrong.

“Not really.” You lied. You scrunched your face and took a deep breath. “Actually yeah- my mom came home in one of her moods again, but”-

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

You could hear his car keys jingle on the other line and the familiar sound of his truck door slamming shut.

“I’m at the park down the street.”

“Hold tight, honey. I’ll be right there.”

It was about a fifteen minute wait. John lived all the way out in the country, another thing you loved about him. His truck pulled up and he quickly hopped out to open the door for you.

“Thanks John.” You sighed, giving him a quick hug.

“Course, honey. Now how about we go get some dinner, hmm?” He patted your back. It was gentle but enough to make you wince.

He took you to your favorite restaurant, the same one your father use to take you to. He sat across from you, not needing to look over the menu. His soft blue eyes trained on you.

“You ready to talk about it?” John asked. Your eyes peered up from behind the menu. You don’t know why you were even looking at it in the first place. You always ordered the same thing.

“Same old thing.” You responded, sifting in your seat.

“Don’t give me that, honey.” He pressed. “You’ve never called me before. I always hear about a fight after I’ve shaken you down.” He offered you a small smile. It’s wasn’t one of pity, but understanding. He’s always been there for you, so why won’t you just tell him the truth?

“Don’t get mad.” You whispered. John instantly faltered. It was a common cycle. When he was on leave he’d take you out at least two times a week. You’d tell him about some shitty thing your mom said to you and he’d race over to your house and threaten her to knock it off. She’d be on her best behavior for about a week, then the cycle would repeat itself. “Look you’re already upset.” You gave a fake chuckle.

“Honey.” He huffed. His eyes bore into yours with such intensity it made your tiny hairs stand up.

“It started off just like our fights always do. She started yelling and I just made my way to my room to bunker down for the night.” You stopped to take a small sip of your water.

“You locked the door?” John hummed. He had built you a special lock to go on your door.

“I didn’t make it that far.” You murmured, tears forming in your eyes. John’s hand reached across the table attaching to yours, giving you an encouraging squeeze. “She threw something at me.” You whispered.

“Threw something at you.” He repeated.

“I know it so stupid.” Your hands left his to paw at your eyes. You hated crying. His hands remained on the table giving you the option to return to him.

“She hurt you honey? That’s the furthest thing from stupid.”

“It was one of those ceramic cats she collects. It hit me in the back.” You gasped. You wouldn’t doubt if there was a large bruise forming as you spoke. “Do you mind if I stay with you for a little bit? Just till things cool down?”

“Honey, you could come live with me.” He assured. This wasn’t the first time he offered, but giving the increasing hostility your mother was showing this was the first time you really considered it.

“I don’t think I can just live with you, John. Isn’t that illegal- like kidnapping or something.” You sputtered.

“That’s not for you to worry about, honey. I’ll handle everything, just take some time and think about it.”

He woke up to the sound of glass shattering so loud it sounded like it was in his room. His body made quick work of throwing the covers off and heading towards his front door. He didn’t bother to shut his door behind him or throw on a pair of shoes. His body was already hot and shaking with anger. His fist pounded against your front door giving some warning of his presence before he used his shoulder to nearly split the door open.

He quickly found you on the floor your mother grabbing at your hair.

“Shit!” Your father yelled from the kitchen. Your father had been enjoying the whole spectacle of your mother tormenting you with a smile and a beer in his hand. Your mother look up at Simon, her own eyes growing wide with fear. He grabbed her by the arm throwing her backwards off of you.

“Who the fuck do you thi”- Your father started.

“Shut up and sit down.” Simon growled. Your father quickly obeyed siting down at the counter, your mother scurrying backwards to join him.

“Come on kid, on your feet.” He was soft with you, refusing to add anymore trauma to the situation. He wrapped an arm around your middle to steady you and you hid your face in shame.

“You can’t just take them. I’ll have the police dow”- Your father spoke up again.

“I told you to shut it. And what? You gonna call the police on me tough guy? Do it.” Simon spat. Your father piped down again the realization of his threat setting in. Simon led you out of your apartment and into his own. “Sit down, tell me where you’re hurt. Might need to take you to the hospital after that one, kid.”

The only way you could respond was through sobs. You practically threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. He sighed softly, not in contempt but in mercy. He wrapped a bulky arm around you, using your head as a chin rest. He related to you in all the worst ways.

“I don’t wanna go back.” You sobbed against him.

“I know you’re scared.” He said softly. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while, yeah? You have a key anyways might as well.”

He groaned as his phone went off from somewhere in his bed. He patted around, his eyes burning as the made contact with the blinding light.

Your face lighting up his phone ripped the drowsiness from his body.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat.

“Mac.” You cried from the other end.

“Fuckin hell.” He growled. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry. They just started yelling at me and I got scared and now I don’t know what to do.” You sobbed.

“You did exactly what you were suppose to do. You called me. Now take a few breaths and tell me where you are. It’s late you shouldn’t be out by yourself.” He slipped his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys from the entry table. He opened the door only to come face to face with you. His face scrunched as he took in your appearance. Your hair a mess, your face tear stained and you were shaking uncontrollably.

His heart dropped when he caught sight of a ruby colored mark on your cheek.

“That better not be what I think it is.” He gritted. You just cried harder. “Inside, now.” He snipped, making room for you brush past him.

“No, Mac please.” You sobbed. Your hands fled towards his arm and you leaned against him. You needed comfort. You needed assurance that everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I can’t just let them get away with it Y/N.” He snarled. He gave you a kiss on the head. He began to pull his arm away but you just gripped him harder.

“Mac, please. I need you.” Your voice was soft. So weak and so vulnerable it made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please.” You whispered again. An apology flowed from his mouth and he quickly wrapped two strong arms around you, pulling you tight against him. You instantly relaxed.

“You’re right.” He murmured. “You’re safe now.”

“Ky, Can I stay with you please?”

You had asked him that a little over a week ago. He agreed immediately- perks of being one of his most favorite people on the planet. You didn’t really tell him why, just that you had gotten into a small ‘altercation’ with your parents.

That brings you to where you are today.

“If you don’t want me I can just leave Kyle.” You huffed, already collecting your things from the guest bedroom.

“Lovie, don’t do that!” He shouted after you. “My door is always open for you and you know that. I would just like to know exactly what happened. Considering you’re practically living with me now I think I have a right to know.” He explained. He grabbed the things out of your bag, hanging them up again.

“Kyle, stop! I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome. I’ll be out for your hair in no time.” You rubbed at your face harshly, trying to rid yourself of any tears.

“Y/N. Enough. Please stop.” His words were firm. It made you cry harder. “I didn’t mean to upset you so bad.” He assured. His hands came up and grabbed your wrists so he could get a better look at your face. He pulled you close to him. “I also need to know how upset I should be with your parents. If it’s really bad we need to get you out of there.” He explained. You sniffled, wiping at your face again.

It was then he saw it.

A deep purple bruise on your wrist. How didn’t you flinch when he grabbed it?

“That answers my question.” He sighed. You gasped and pulled your sleeves down. “Is that the only one?” He pressed. His fingers rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. He repeated his question.

You softly shook your head.

“I have one on my side too.” You sniffed.

“Y/N look at me please.”

You did as he requested.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t have to go back, okay? But I need you to be completely honest about everything, yeah?”

A small sob left you and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

“I love you, Ky.”

468 notes · View notes

elix8r · 9 months

Text

it’s raining, it’s pouring

PAIRING: cheetah hybrid!mark x house cat hybrid!y/n

GENRES: hybrid!au, smut, angst, enemies to ?

SUMMARY: Hating Mark could almost be considered your part-time job ever since Taeyong adopted him. But on one fateful night, a raging storm strikes, and with Taeyong nowhere to be found, you find yourself seeking an unlikely source of comfort - your annoying cheetah roommate.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNING: meandom!mark, brattysub!y/n, profanity, y/n being really mean to mark, unprotected sex, manhandling, humiliation, degradation, anal, foot stuff, face-fucking, rough sex, overall filthy stuff

Up until three years ago, your life could be described as utter paradise. With Taeyong being the best owner you could ask for, and living in the coveted top-floor penthouse, you couldn't have any complaints. That was, of course, until your owner one day brought home another hybrid without previously warning you. Apparently, the previous owner of the cheetah hybrid was moving back to America, leaving him in need of a new home. Being the generous owner he was, Taeyong offered to take him in without hesitation (and without discussing it with you beforehand).

The moment Mark walked through the front door, your feelings towards the fellow feline were set, and they had yet to change. He was nothing but a nuisance to you, and despite being in the same cat family, he seemed to be nothing like you. You even attempted to paw at his ears many times before, trying to confirm if he really was a cheetah and not an overgrown puppy. However, each time, you would be met with cries and protests from him, while instinctively his claws extended, confirming that he was indeed a cat.

By now, Taeyong had accepted that you were never going to be best buds with Mark (though the latter still tried his best, despite knowing your response each time). In the beginning, he had hoped that you would get over your distaste for the boy and ultimately welcome him to the family, but as time went on and you showed no change of heart, your owner had to accept the reality.

Mark always took your food, bed, and even toys that were specifically given to you by Taeyong. He was an annoying presence in your life, who seemed to not get the hint that you wanted nothing to do with him. And as always, the exact thing was currently happening as you caught Mark rolling around and leaving his scent all over the new bedding that Taeyong had gotten for you.

"But yours is so much better! I just wanted to try it out, just a little, plus you smell good!" Mark's ears slightly folded down as he desperately tried to explain why you had found him sleeping in your bed.

"That's not my problem! Take it up with Taeyong if you have complaints and stop getting into my stuff. It's getting really fucking annoying and creepy you perv," you sent him a harsh glare, and your eyebrows furrowed in distaste as you could now smell him all over your sleeping area.

"Why can't you share? I mean, Taeyong always tells us to play nice and get along with each other, but no matter how hard I try, you never do! You're always so mean to me, and I don't even know what I've done!" Mark pouted, clearly upset with how you were reacting to him. From the beginning, all he wanted was to be friends with you, but you seemed to reject him at every turn.

"Why do I have to share if Taeyong bought it specifically for me? I mean, I was here first anyway. You should just be happy that Taeyong even took you in. Otherwise, you'd probably be one of those strays we always see outside. You should be thankful for what you got, so stop trying to take my stuff too. Anyways, get out of my room," you huffed towards your bed, barely giving him a second look. You knew that you were probably a bit too harsh with your words, but your annoyance took over, and you couldn't take back what was already said.

Mark was hurt and defeated. He knew there was no point in arguing with you so he nodded quietly and left your room and headed towards his, where he turned to his computer so that he would be able to take his mind off of you and focus on playing games with his friends.

"Bro, she's such a bitch. I mean, I don't know how you deal with her. I've only met her once, and during that time, she almost clawed my eyes out," his friend Jeno, responded sympathetically upon hearing about what had happened.

"Yeah, I feel bad for you, man. Me and Jaemin get along fine, so I can't even imagine what it's like living 24/7 with someone you don't get along with. Oof, it sounds like a nightmare," Haechan shuddered at the thought, and Jaemin nodded in agreement.

"Why don't you just fight back and assert your dominance over her? I mean, you are the stronger breed. She'll have to respect you once you scare her straight. Use your predator advantages, and maybe she'll realize that you're not one to be messed with," Jaemin suggested, trying to help Mark find a solution. His words did intrigue Mark, and he had to admit that he had thought about what Jaemin was suggesting. However, he had hoped he wouldn't have to resort to using his powers against you and that you would eventually warm up to him on your own.

Typing and clicking noises filled the conversation for a couple of seconds as they all played online together. "Yeah, I guess. I'll think about it," Mark finally replied.

And think about it he did for the next few hours as he continued to play games with his friends. The topic of you didn't come up again as they were all too engrossed in their gaming. Meanwhile, Mark remained preoccupied with thoughts of you. He was so engrossed in the games that he didn't realize the time or the weather outside, something you were keenly aware of.

Taeyong should have been home by now, yet not a single sign of him was to be seen. You had been waiting patiently for your owner while spending time scrapbooking. Every once in a while, you would peer out your window to see if he was here yet as you were always able to predict when he would be coming in. But today, he seemed to be taking longer. The sky had been turning darker and darker, which laid an uneasy feeling inside of you.

It was quite embarrassing to admit, but even at your grown age, you were still deadly afraid of storms. You were unable to withstand them without the comfort of Taeyong nearby, and with no sign of him, you were becoming antsy. Where was he? Was he okay? These were all thoughts that ran through your mind as you went through all the scenarios of where your owner could be, but every single one led to a bad ending that you didn’t want. So you tried your best to get back into crafting.

Of course, that didn't last long as out of nowhere, a flash of lightning could be seen, followed by a clap of thunder so loud that it shook the house. You yelped out loudly as you felt yourself tremble. The lights flickered for a couple of seconds as rain could be heard heavily pouring down, and now you genuinely felt fear. There was nothing you could do except tuck yourself deeply under your blanket while hoping for the rain to settle down, but your wishes were in vain as there was no indication of it stopping anytime soon, and Taeyong was still not home.

You had already tried texting him and dialing his number, but it went straight to voicemail, which further drove you to worry. What if he had decided he had enough of you and chose to leave you? This thought, above all, made your stomach drop, and tears pricked at your eyes. Despite it being totally irrational and unwarranted, it was still a possibility and it scared you. Suddenly, another thunder could be heard, which once again instigated a whimper out of you. Without fully realizing what you were doing, you found yourself walking towards Mark’s door.

You weren’t sure that you had ever knocked on his door purposely, but here you were knocking. Laughs and talking could be heard from inside the room and you wondered how he wasn’t bothered by everything going on. While you frowned while trying to pull your blanket around your shoulders tighter, the door finally opened and revealed a confused Mark.

You looked absolutely terrified, which was not a look he was familiar with despite living with you for about three years now. You were visibly shaken and your eyes were wide with fear. Instantly, Mark was concerned.

"Hey, what’s wrong?" His brows were furrowed as he noticed you on the verge of crying (though you weren't sure if it was because of the storm, the absence of Taeyong, or even the embarrassing fact that you came crawling to Mark's room).

"Have you heard from Taeyong?" Your usual catty tone was nowhere to be found as you asked with a soft voice.

Until now, Mark hadn’t realized that his owner had not come home when he was supposed to, but at the realization, he too became worried. "No, I don't. I guess I just realized that he hasn't come home yet."

His response made your eyes widen. It was hard to believe that while you were worrying in your room, the thought of Taeyong hadn't crossed Mark's mind even once. "What do you mean you didn't realize? I know he's been coming home later recently, but not this late! I mean, haven't you seen what it's like outside right now? Where is he?"

It was obvious that you were beyond stressed, and even without smelling you, Mark could feel anxiety radiating off of you. It was indeed storming terribly outside, and now Mark was becoming worried knowing that Taeyong was out there. But seeing your state, he came to the conclusion that it would do no one any good to have the both of you freaking out.

"Hey, I'm sure he's fine. I bet he's just waiting out the storm at his work. Why don't you come in here and wait together for him?" His words did not do much to ease your tension, but you did oblige (if it were other circumstances, you would never agree to enter his room, but desperate times called for desperate measures).

"But why isn't he answering my calls then? He knows that I hate storms, and I can't go through them without him! Mark, what if he's never coming back?" You had plopped yourself on top of his bed, eyes wide and lips quivering.

Mark sighed. "Y/N, now you're being ridiculous. Why would he just abandon us? He's probably not getting a signal or something more reasonable."

His dismissive response lacked empathy for your concerns, and you were now shedding tears. "What do you mean more reasonable? I think my concerns are valid! Maybe he's tired of us fighting all the time! I mean, we haven't been the best for him, and I know he's been having a hard time with us. It’s possible that he had it with us and just abandoned us to run away!"

The concern he previously felt was now gone as your dramatic rant slowly started to irk him more and more. Everyone knew that you were the main instigator of your fights, always being unfriendly towards Mark, so to have you group him with you had him scoffing. "You mean more like you were not being a good hybrid like you should have been. I mean, you're the one always instigating fights. I try my best to deal with you, but you're so bratty. Honestly, I'm surprised Taeyong's been able to deal with you this long."

Throughout the three years of living with Mark, you could only count a handful of times that he responded to you in such a manner. He was usually mild-mannered and overall just nice, so hearing this from him had you shocked. It was such a switch and instantly, you could feel his annoyance towards you in the air.

"Ma-Mark, what do you mean?" Your cries had yet to stop, and Mark rolled his eyes at you. Were you that dumb that you hadn't caught on to how frustrated Taeyong had recently been with your behavior? Taeyong was usually very tolerant, but even he was having a hard time with you.

"Jesus Y/N, are you seriously that stupid?" Even Mark was shocked at how he was talking to you, but this pent-up anger towards you had been a long time coming. He had been holding it all in, trying to be as good as he can to you despite your actions towards him, but now he was reaching a boiling point. He was beyond annoyed, and maybe this cold hard wake-up call was needed for you to start behaving better.

"I'm not stupid! Who do you think you are to talk to me like that, you fucking bastard?" You tried to sound strong while defending yourself against his harsh words, yet the tears seemed to not stop. Frustratingly, you got up to further confront him, but to your surprise, his hands came up around your neck and forced you back on the bed. Clearly, your words had further driven him to anger.

It was clear that Mark was angry. He had never put his hands on you this way, and in response, you were also fuming. How dare he put his hands on you? "Get your filthy ass hands off me!"

Mark didn't listen, though, as he pushed you further into the bed and hovered over you. His eyes held a fiery rage that you weren't sure you had ever encountered, certainly not from Mark. No trace of your bravado could be found, and for the first time, you cowered in his presence. Chills ran down your body as you felt his tail moving all over your bare legs. Amidst the fear you felt from the feline, another emotion bubbled beneath your lower belly.

Never in a million years would you have expected yourself to be turned on by Mark, but here you were, unconsciously purring in response to his actions. The once sweet and amiable Mark was gone, and this new version of him that showcased himself in front of you was one that you couldn't help but find yourself incredibly attracted to. Alas, you realized that you, just a common domesticated house kitty, were no match for the fast and strong beast that Mark presented himself to be.

"You know I've been quite understanding toward you. I put up with your attitude for three fucking years, yet here you are, still not realizing how much of a spoiled and ungrateful little kitty you've been. Despite taking all your shit, here you still are with the audacity to be in my room and still be a bitch when I nicely allowed you in to comfort you. It's obvious Taeyong hasn't been doing a good job taming you to be the nice house cat you're bred to be. But enough is enough, and clearly, the soft approach isn't working, so I guess I'll have to be the one to straighten you out."

And with that, he pressed his lips against yours roughly, making his intentions clear that he wouldn't go easy on you. Teeth clicked against each other and as the kiss deepened, you found yourself caught between conflicting emotions. Maybe, you did deserve this, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a part of you unwilling to surrender to Mark's dominance this easily.

His hands roughly dragged themselves all over your body as you panted heavily against his lips. In an attempt to take charge, you wrapped your legs around his waist, intending to twist him around and position yourself on top. However, his quick instincts kicked in, and he caught on before you could even execute your plans. He immediately pinned you under him again.

"Tsk tsk, I told you. I'm in charge today, and that little move you tried to pull on me is going to cost you now," Mark growled, and all you could manage in response was a small whimper. Your body struggled to adjust to not being the one in control.

His hands were burning hot as they hurriedly moved to strip you of the only article of clothing that you were wearing. It was a large shirt that engulfed you, and most days you had no issue with it being the only thing you wore around the house. You found it to be the most comfortable and unrestricting for your tail, allowing you to move freely without any discomfort. However, if you had been made aware beforehand of the situation you were currently in, you would have reconsidered.

Being fully bare in front of Mark while he was still fully clothed made you feel hot in humiliation, but you fought against your impulse to cover yourself. Instead, you held your head high and maintained unwavering eye contact with the male feline before you. A devilish smirk ghosted his pretty face as his eyes started to move down, unashamedly wandering all over your naked figure and taking in every curve, making sure to not miss a single spot.

“Get on your knees.” His voice was stern and Mark could feel his pants get tighter and tighter.

“What if I don’t want to?” You coyly eyed him, still stubborn and unwilling to give in as easily as you knew Mark hoped you would.

With a firm grip on your chin, he was clearly losing his patience with you. "Don't make me repeat myself again. Get on your knees," he demanded with less composure than before. Reluctantly, you complied, but your gaze held a sparkle of mischievousness, indicating your satisfaction at successfully getting under his skin.

Your hands moved at a tortuously slow speed as you undressed him, knowing that it would be more fuel to the fire already ignited within him. This cat-and-mouse game you seemed to be dragging Mark into was entertaining you like nothing else before. Any previous anxiety and worry you had regarding Taeyong were not even thoughts in your mind right now, as you were fully occupied with pushing Mark to the edge. Pissed-off Mark seemed to be your favorite version of him, and it was a shame that it took three years for you to be graced with its presence, but better late than never.

You must have underestimated Mark though as you suddenly felt pressure on your clit. His foot had flexed up roughly against your pussy reminding you of who was in charge. You were biting back your moans as he seemed to have no plans of moving his foot while you finally got his pants off. Yanking his underwear down with the pants, his dick instantly freed, almost smacking your face.

"Fuck, Mark," you marveled at the sight. Even from the day you met him, you couldn’t deny (no matter how much you wanted to) that Mark was beautiful, but now it was fully confirmed that he was indeed absolute perfection.

With his cock glistening and tip pulsing red, your ears twitched as you felt yourself getting even further dazed with arousal. Your hands hesitantly wrapped themselves around his length and you heard a small groan release from within him. Your hands were incredibly soft and nothing compared to anything Mark had previously experienced. The slow strokes became increasingly faster and with wide eyes, you inched your head towards his slit before tentatively dipping your tongue in his slit.

“Shit, keep going.” He instructed and you could hear his breaths get more erratic the more you started to use your tongue.

You ran your tongue over the underside of his shaft before returning to his head wrapping your mouth around it. Mark was insanely receptive as you could feel his tail once again swiftly moving around your body the further you sank down his length. Once you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, you started to guide yourself back and forth, adopting a steady pace. Your hands moved to work in tandem with your mouth around what your mouth couldn’t reach.

With hollowed cheeks and reddened eyes that stared straight into his, just the sight alone could have him cumming. His hand rested gently against the back of your head and as he felt more and more pleasure, his hips started to penetrate deeper into your mouth. Then all of a sudden, Mark felt your teeth gently scraping against his dick which instantly had him harshly grabbing a hold of your hair and ripping you off his length.

Your head was pulled all the way back, almost straining your neck, but the only thing you could do was giggle at his reaction once you saw his face. With a stern warning he gave you with his eyes, you were shoved back down his cock with even more force than before. He mercilessly fucked your mouth and your claws dug deep into his thighs, yet he couldn’t care less. Deep grunts and lewd noises of you gagging and choking around him filled the room as tears drenched your face. You were sopping wet by now and in attempts to find some relief, you grinded down against his foot.

“Fuck, almost there,” he moans, and with one last deep thrust, you feel spurts of his cum painting your throat.

You try your best to swallow his load, but it’s too much as some seep out from the corner of your mouth and after what seems like forever, Mark pulls you off of him. Deep gasps come from you as you try your best to catch your breath, but it seems like he has no intentions of stopping as you’re quickly yanked up from the floor and thrown on the bed.

“Look at this,” Mark held your legs open wide as he examined your drenched pussy. “I mean you were grinding against my feet so fucking hard. You liked getting off against my feet? Fucking nasty whore. I mean that’s fucking embarrassing how desperate you are”

“Fuck, off.” You angrily spat out while you attempted to close your legs. It was indeed humiliating that Mark was making you feel and act like this.

He smirked at your words, "Oh yeah? You really want me to fuck off? Cause I will, I mean I already got my fix, no need to continue on." Panic instantaneously coursed through you at his suggestion to leave you like this, and without hesitation, you desperately reached for his wrist, holding him from leaving you.

"Wait, no. Mark, please," you begged. You knew he was getting off on this control he had over you, but you couldn’t really care less. There was only one thing you wanted right now, and you would do just about anything to get it.

“Why? I don’t owe you anything. All you’ve ever done for me was treat me like shit. Maybe you should’ve been a better kitty then.” You were losing your mind the more seconds went by he wasn’t touching you.

“Please Mark, I’m sorry.” Your eyes welled up, frantically begging for him. “I’ll do anything, please. I promise.”

As sadistic as it was, Mark couldn’t help but absolutely love seeing you like this. You looked helpless and desperate. “Anything?”

You furiously nodded. “Yes! Anything, Mark. Please, touch me. Use me!”

“So you’d let me choke you or do this?” He pinched your nipples hard and despite the pain, you continued to nod. “What about this? You like this?” Mark’s hand traveled down to your tail and tugged on it. Tails on hybrids were known to be off-limits to others as it was one of the most sensitive parts of your body so to have Mark do this to you was not only demeaning but also overwhelming, but you still nodded.

“Hmm, maybe you really are willing to let me do anything. What about here? Will you let me use it?” His thumb rubbed against the rim of virgin hole. You’ve had sex plenty of times but never had you ventured to have your rear penetrated.

Your already widened eyes grew even bigger at what Mark was insinuating, clearly taken aback by the feeling of his thumb. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but this didn’t necessarily mean that you were against it. Slowly, you nodded, letting out a soft whine at the new sensation that you were growing to enjoy.

“Please Mark, give me anything.” Your answer clearly satisfied him as he moved to rest his cock, which had hardened again, on your heat.

Smacking the head of his dick against your clit had you loudly moaning and without warning, he fully plunged into you, giving you no respite to adjust to his hard length before pounding himself into you. Squelching noises filled the room and while you would have most definitely been embarrassed if this was any other scenario, you were a little too preoccupied with screaming Mark’s name loudly as you felt indescribable pleasure.

Mark seemed to be sharing a similar sentiment to yours as he also let out loud moans and grunts as he continued to snap into you. You felt heavenly, so warm and tight, almost as if you were made specially for him and if he could, Mark would want to stay buried inside of you for the rest of his life.

“Ngh, so good! Please don’t stop!” You were practically screaming as your claws sunk themselves into Mark’s back in an attempt to hold onto something. You were incoherent and babbling all sorts of things.

Suddenly, when you thought you couldn’t feel any better, you felt the rough pads of Mark’s fingers roughly rubbing themselves against your engorged clit. Instantly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and it didn’t take long before you felt as if the Earth was stuttering on its axis as you came.

Tears poured down your pretty face as you sobbed, but it seemed as though Mark was not through with you. Swiftly, he flipped you around, yanking your tail up, which had you shrieking in sensitivity. Your ass immediately perked up while your body slumped forward, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you, so pretty in submission.” You could hear him smiling as he teased you. He admired your pussy, so puffy and glistening from your orgasm before gathering your release onto his fingers and spreading them on your unbreached hole.

All you could do was gasp against your mattress at the sensation, clearly aware of what he was trying to do. Slowly, he prodded his finger into the hole, testing the waters on how you would react before going further. You were trembling against his finger, mewling out as your hands tightly gripped the sheets on his bed. The mix of vulnerability and excitement overwhelmed you, and you couldn't deny the pleasure that was slowly building within you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, I’m barely able to get this finger in. How’re you going to be able to take my cock princess?” Quickly you whined back at his words.

“Mhm, I can ugh, I can take it. I promise.” You’re barely able to breathe out before you went back to being a moaning mess as Mark started to move his finger around.

Mark loved how receptive you were to everything he was doing to you. Deciding to try another one, he slowly slid another finger into your incredibly taut hole. You were clenching hard around him, but the second his hands wrapped around your tail again, you seemed to loosen up, which gave him room to scissor his fingers around.

“Please, just put it in. I need you, Mark please!” Your patience was waning and while you appreciated his attempts to loosen you up, knowing that it was not only your first time but also due to his substantial size, you were tired of waiting and now just wanted him in you.

Mark didn’t need to be told twice and he quickly yanked his fingers out before positioning himself on your pulsating hole. He gradually pushed into you and instantly, the tightness around his head had him rolling his head back. As he pushed himself further into you, your whimpers got louder as your back arched further to get closer to him. It was painful and an unfamiliar sensation, but the pleasure outweighed any other feeling and you were determined to take him all.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight around me babe.” Mark mused as he finally sunk all of himself into you before pausing for a second to take everything in. Then, he started to rock himself at a slow pace before adopting a steady pace that was comfortable for both of you.

Once again, lewd sounds of moans and pants filled the room that was potently covered in the scent of sex. Your body quivered against his with his tight grip was the only thing keeping your body from fully slumping over. As you felt yourself loosening up, you felt Mark quickening his pace as he was now pounding relentlessly into you. His balls were harshly slapping themselves against your sensitive clit and you already felt yourself coming close to releasing for a second time tonight.

“Keep going, I’m close! Don’t stop!” You pleaded and it seemed that Mark was also coming close to combusting as you felt him tightly gripping your shoulders to give himself more momentum to thrust into you.

Ringing in your ears came first before everything seemed to cut to white noise as you felt yourself convulsing. You weren’t even sure if you were even awake, let alone alive as the sensation continued. As Mark continued to slam into you, chasing his release, he felt spurts of wetness coming from you. You were squirting and at the realization, Mark instantly came. Ropes of his cum painted your inside and when he finally pulled out, the sight alone was filthy and absolutely porn-worthy. Your hole continued to clench over nothing and his cum slowly seeped out creating an image that Mark knew he would have forever ingrained in his mind.

You had gone fully limp on the bed, with only small twitches giving an indication that you were, in fact, still alive. Mark had completely fucked you into oblivion, and not a single ounce of your previous bratty attitude seemed to have withstood as you didn't even bat an eye when Mark wrapped his arms around you both, trying to recover and catch your breath.

“Guys, I’m here! I’m so sorry, the rain had everyone—what the fuck!” Out of nowhere, the door to the room slammed open, showcasing your owner standing drenched from the rain and sporting a wide smile that quickly disappeared at the sight his two hybrids were found in. Shit, both of you had totally forgotten about Taeyong.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy birthday mark lee love you sm and stay rawr xd <3

#nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct imagines #nctdream #nct #mark lee #mark lee smut #mark lee au #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios #mark lee angst #nct 127 #nct au #nct dream au #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios

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citruslullabies · 2 months

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Hello! So this is my first time ever doing a request so I hope it’s good! But could you do Dogday x Reader/Angel, where Angel gets injured really badly and ends up getting impaled by metal and ends up needing to get the metal ripped out and sewn up?? Maybe dogday could comfort the reader during it?? I’m so sorry if that’s too much!! Okay that’s all really have a nice day/night!

Of course sweetie!

Trigger warnings: blood, injury, near-death experience

Romantic/platonic: unspecified

Requested by: anonymous

Category: angst + fluffy end

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x injured!reader

Word count: 518

Angelic Wounds

Dogday was forever in your favor, you were his angel and his light. His dreams and his hope, he would be absolutely crushed if anything happened to you.

He was a little ways away from you, hesitant due to a gut feeling but separated so he could scrounge up whatever scarce food there was in this place for you, Poppy, Kissy Missy, and himself but he was more so looking for you three. He found a few things, he got lucky and they were in cans. One of them he was a little scared to bring back since he could tell one of the small ones got its grimy little teeth sunk into it.

The canine was storing the cans in a dingy little bag he found, leaving the busted one to thenside to just hold with his paw in case it was still any good. Couldn't be too picky when you were desperate to survive. He was peaceful until his ears practically shot off his head when he heard a scream that sounded like a bobcat, quickly looking up and looking in the direction it came from. Was it… no it couldn't be you. Right? You always handled yourself so well, it couldn't be you - but it was. He knew it and ran hot on his heels to get to you.

He found you on the floor, sobbing your eyes out with a piece of metal through your arm. You were trying to pry it off but it was heavy and deep, much to you and Dogday’s dismay. Your companion ran over to you in a hurry, panicking and holding you close. “Angel!?” He asked, looking at your arm and carefully resting his paw below the wound. “What happened!?”

“I- I don't know! It just… it just fell out of nowhere and I didn't move in time-” You said, struggling through hiccups and sobs. He nodded and understood that accidents were bound to happen, he carefully went through your backpack and got some bandages. With love and care, he tended to you just as you tended to him once before. He stitched you up, despite your cries and blood touching his fur breaking his heart he persevered and fixed you up before bandaging the stitches. He held you tightly.

While you cried from the pain, he couldn't help but cry too. He cried knowing he could have lost you if he wasn't any faster, but he also cried knowing that if he had stayed with you and listened to his gut to stay near this wouldn't have happened. He carefully rubbed you back while sitting back and having you in his lap. He never wanted to feel your blood against his paw pads, never wanted to see you cry in pain and agony while desperately trying to escape the feeling like a hopeless cat turned into road pudding.

“Shh.. shh.. Angel, it's okay. It's okay now. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you alone.” He cooed, pressing his head against yours with his big floppy ear scrunched between your faces.

A wounded angel could still fly, luckily.

Thanks for requesting!

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #poppy’s playtime x reader #poppy playtime 3 #poppys playtime #dogday x you #smiling critters dogday #poppy playtime dogday

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consuming-karma · 1 year

Text

THE LOST BOYS HAND HCS.

buwan’s notes: I’d like to thank @britany1997 for fueling my wild obsession with the lost boys and their hands, and also for agreeing with me that Paul’s the KING of fingering. Thanks. 🤭

episode summary: talking about the lost boys and their sexy hands. yes I’m crazy.

content warnings: hand kinks, some hcs are for fem/masc audiences (will specify so). , spit kink, different other kinks that will take forever to mention, NSFW, me honestly talking about how my favourite necklaces is Dwayne’s hands, yeah..

PAUL

starting off strong with Paul, Brit this one is for you mainly (and me, but I’m on the side).

I think paul has very veiny and bruised hands. I think that the blonde has the type to manage to get bruises or cuts unintentionally and never notice it!

his fingernails aren’t long, and his fingers are somewhat long and he has HUGE palms.

like marko, he has the tendency to chew on his nails, maybe even bite the skin around it.

Paul’s hands is also littered with rings, I can’t begin to explain to you how many rings he has in his own little corner of the cave, even the other guys come to borrow from him time to time!

If I didn’t know any better I would’ve definitely done the “your hands are way bigger than mine 🥺” technique at him, it’s funnier knowing that Paul’s probably the type to fall for it.

Paul also has a tendency to need to grab, he will hold onto anything. His preference is your chest though, he loves how they cup perfectly into his.

he’s very touchy-feely, he doesn’t seem to understand how good it feels to just have you in his hands or arms, whether that’s just you hooking your pinky around his or letting Paul place his hand on your inner thigh, he just loves it.

If I could say anything, I’d say Paul gets off more on touching you rather than you touching him.

maybe even gets higher than he does smoking weed.

He’s like one of those cats who paw at you whenever they’re comfortable. He grabs at thighs, at upper arms, at the tummy. He loves all of you and want all of you to fit in his hands.

Paul’s hands are somewhat rough, I see Paul to be the type to suck at hand care and only really uses hand sanitizer and maybe lotion. (For you know what ;) ).

Brit and I are firm believers that he is the KING of fingering/oral.

Paul thrives, survives on pleasing his mate/partner.

His hands can grip and squeeze and please.

I like to think that Paul loves the way your thighs pool from out his palms, and how it doesn’t fit in both of his hands.

For my feminine readers out there, Paul would love to graze the tips of his fingers on your stretch marks and whisper sweet little dirty nothings into your ears as his free hand just rubs you on your hip dips. :)

Masc readers, never forgetting about y’all, his thick hands definitely wrap perfectly around your cock, and he definitely looks up at you prettily with those baby blues. His painted nails and rings make beautiful accessories for your dick <3.

Paul unintentionally fingers you to the point of overstimulation though, he’s got the attention span of a puppy and will not notice, no matter how many times you cum onto his hands.

his hands look amazing covered in cum and saliva ;)

spit on his hands and tell him to fuck his fist, his only lube being your saliva..

“Paul!” You whined, grabbing at his hands as they gripped firmly at your thighs. His face sported a grin as your squirmed in his hold, a worried look on your face.

It’s been hours since his fingers worked their magic inside of your hole, he worked your walls until they couldn’t anymore and it seemed like Paul would never stop.

A surprised moan left your lips as Paul grazed over a sensitive spot, Paul seemed to feel like the devil in disguise as he no longer grazed your sweet spot, more so, started abusing it.

You couldn’t stop your thighs from shaking and kicking as the overstimulation Paul gave you shook you to your core. You can see the black and white spots appear in your vision as you feel yourself get closer and closer to another high.

It felt like forever before Paul finally plunged his fingers deep into your hole one last time, letting you ride his digits until you came down from his high, twitching from the overstimulation.

After a short while, Paul gently pulled his fingers away, a string of cum connecting his digits to your hole before Paul brought it up to his lips and gently sucked.

His free hand held your hips in place, as you hazily looked up at him with confusion and a red face.

“Has anybody told you how divine you taste, babe?”

(visuals) :

MARKO

Marko’s hands are less veined than the rest of the boys, turning when he was around eighteen had him keep the smooth skin of a baby.

The curly-head’s hands are definitely more daintier than the rest of the boys, most of them have rough maybe thick hands, but Marko’s are thin and has little veins.

Although Marko covers it up with his fingerless gloves, I’d like to think that his hands are very smooth to the touch, his handcare is 10/10.

like Paul, his nails aren’t super long, I’d say he likes to keep them a nice length, but bites them off on the way.

His thumb has a mark where he keeps biting it with his teeth, unlike the other boys who might have bruises or cuts, he has a noticeable bump on his thumb and a small mark on his nail.

type of guy to be short but his hands are still bigger than yours. He always talks about his hands fits yours so well and how he loves seeing the size difference of both your palms together.

type of guy to also tell you that your body fits perfectly into his hands, his hands mold perfectly with your hips and thighs.

most of the time Marko does dirty talk you, but you can never reply back because most of his dirty talk’s in Italian, and you’re busy trying to keep Marko’s wandering hands from going under your shirt and latching onto your chest.

If Paul’s the most touchy with his hands, Marko takes second place with how touchy he is.

Marko has the tendency to play with his hands when anxious or anticipating something. He rubs his hands or massages his palms, looking off to wherever he’s expecting something.

Marko’s fingers don’t stretch you as much as the rest of the boys do, although the boys might be a bit more chunkier, Marko’s hands are small enough that they stretch you out to where it doesn’t hurt.

Marko’s hand game is strong, Paul gets cramps, but Marko doesn’t, I mean, the boy paints, he’s probably got some cool ass tricks in his sleeves to keep him from losing energy during your bedroom deeds.

Marko likes to listen to your sounds and your body, whenever he’s fingering you, he doesn’t mind the squealing or the squelching, he knows he’s the one who made you sound like that, and if anything, he’s more proud of it.

if I were to rate his fingering skills? 7/10. He’s got some learning to do but most of the time he’ll probably have you screaming his name from his fingers.

Fem!readers, this man eats pussy like he’s starved! Not the point though, because his hands are where it’s at, he knows how to work you up, and loves to tease, the tips of his fingers padded perfectly on top of your clit and he loves to go fast. No mercy. So while he’s enjoying a nice meal, you’re enjoying yourself.

Masc!readers, exactly the same!! This guy sucks cock like an animal and honestly it would take everything to get this guy off your dick. Since Marko’s hands are daintier, his hands definitely look amazing wrapped around you.

Marko would never admit it but, he loves when you stain his fingerless gloves with your cum <3, he’s the real artsy type.

He probably fingers you in public as well, no care in the world.

his favourite past time is watching your hands wrap around his cock, while his hands are bound together to keep him from being impatient <3

tie his pretty hands up and gag him, he likes the challenge!

Marko held you by the hands, his palms pressing them firmly to your back, your stomach to the bed and your back facing him. the curly-headed boy had you pinned to your nest in the cave.

Marko’s growls sounded in your ear as you felt your stomach flutter at his sounds. You could see him from your peripheral vision, his curls falling in front of his eyes as he pinned you.

You could feel the pads of his fingers gently running across the small of your back, almost..appreciating it in a sense, his hands felt soft, yet firm.

Finally, his hands slipped down to your ass, squeezing it in his palms as you squirmed from his firm grip. A small mantra of Marko’s name left your lips, unable to look back to see your boyfriend’s face.

You could feel from the air that he was enjoying this, enjoying you.

Marko, with the strength, turned you around, you laid on your back, bare for his hands to just wander.

His hands travelled from your ass back to your hips, up your stomach, and ended right on your chest. If it wasn’t so lewd, you would’ve thought Marko was giving you a massage.

Marko’s touch teased you relentlessly, you just wanted to yell out for him to touch you, use you. You wanted it so desperately, and Marko knew.

He grinned at your display of biting your lips and the small twitches his touch gave you.

“See, baby? You fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.”

(visuals) :

DAVID

David’s hands are very thick, probably the most thickest out of the boys.

His hands are the best for holding, gripping.

David’s hands could probably cover your whole ass if I know anything.

David’s very careful about his handcare. I think that David has the softest hands out of the boys, he takes good care of them, especially if he wears gloves to cover them.

Though I also think he’s got some blisters, years of driving motorcycles do that to you.

He’s got pretty long fingernails, they’re long enough to have the annoyance of cleaning them every time something gets under his nails.

He brings a cuticle around, I just can’t lie. I think that he’s the type of guy to be like those girls who’s always filing their nails.

probably pinches the hardest as well, he likes to do it when you’re not paying attention and actually causes bruises 😭.

watching him work without his gloves is so attractive, his hands moving as he writes in a notebook or diary, or when he’s playing with a cigar, it’s very, very, attractive.

The pads of his fingers is very soft, not tough like Dwayne’s and Paul’s.

Barely any rings litters his hands and the ones he has are very basic, no intricate designs, most of his complicated rings actually tore through a set of his gloves and he never worn flashy rings ever since.

Leather is his best friend, whether that’d be gloves or the handles of his motorcycle, or in this case, a leash to your collar.

He’s very into oral fixation, he loves shoving his fingers down your throat, likes the ability of being able to choke you out without pulling out his cock to do so.

He’ll also make you suck his digits clean after a long night of teasingly fingering you.

He loves seeing his hands around your throat too, he’s a sadistic little shit, if he doesn’t get off, you don’t either.

I think he’s got the thickest fingers out of the boys, he’s the one who stretches you out the most and sometimes it feels good, but it’s when he teased, that’s when you don’t like it.

Fingering skills are, annoyingly, at a 9/10. It would’ve been a ten if he didn’t tease.

Would NEVER ever paint his nails, like the boys always seem to have black nail polish and Marko’s and Paul’s are always chipped, but David’s is clean, polished, in good health.

His hands wrapped around your waist and dipping into your waistband, the tips of his fingers on the hand of your underwear.

Pulls you to him by hooking his pointer finger into your belt loops and into his chest.

Let him choke you out!!! He’ll be gentle!! Only because you’re human though.

Thumb on your lips always!! His thumbs make good work of finishing you!!!

A small shush left the platinum blonde as you tried to stop your whines, you moved uncomfortably on his motorbike’s seat, the leather being soaked in your wetness.

“careful, dear, you’re making a mess.” David mused, his lips shaped in a taunting smirk as his hands dipped deeper into your core.

You bit your lip to hold in your squeals, teased and tired. David could watch your expressions for the rest of his life.

he’ll never get tired of the way you cling onto his coat, your fingernails digging into its seams, as if any longer you’d have ripped his coat apart from the overwhelming feeling of his fingers pleasing you.

You tried to stay silent, feeling people’s gazes on you as you sat uncomfortable on David’s lap, his coat covered the indecent display of his digits inches deep inside you.

You were desperate for release, searching for your other three boyfriend to earn some mercy from David.

Your eyes looked around the boardwalk, eyes flicking from every similar person who looked similar to your boys.

Suddenly a chuckle and loud voices were heard, you saw your boys from afar. Hopeful, you decided to move off of David’s fingers when his free hand reached up to stop you by the throat.

A light squeeze to your throat, making you gulp and your core pulse with need.

“Eyes on me, dear. Don’t look at anybody else, especially when I’m this deep inside of you.”

(visuals) :

DWAYNE

THE BIGGEST OF THE BOYS!

DEFINITELY has the most veins out of the boys.

Can’t lie, Brit has listened to me want to lick his veins.

He’s got the lengthiest fingers out of them too. He’s the best when it comes to fingering.

His fingernails are nicely trimmed, it’s also littered with rings, his left hand is always bare though since he uses that hand primarily to hold laddie’s and he’s scared that Laddie might get cut from his rings.

Dwayne somewhat cares about his hands, he uses David’s shit though, lotion, Vaseline, serum, cream.

David doesn’t know how he runs out of hand cream so fast too.

Dwayne does carry his own hand sanitizer, but most of it goes to laddie and Paul.

Dwayne doesn’t have really flashy rings either, he doesn’t like the way it clicks together and it puts him in a very uncomfortable situation because he likes to massage his hands when awkward.

He’s big everywhere, his height, his heart, his cock, his hands. It’s crazy.

Prob can carry you in one hand, one arm under your ass and your arms around his neck.

Although he likes fingering, he prefers playing with your clit/cock even more, he’s surprisingly has the best stamina over all the guys but he likes to keep it secret.

A good surprise, I’d say.

I see him as the type to be more sensual than sexual. His hands are best at love-making than rough fucking.

besides Marko, he’s one of the best massuage therapists out there.

His hands somehow find every tense crack in your bones and somehow is able to perform chiropractic procedures like aligning your neck properly or fixing a locked jaw.

He owns a ton of essential oils, his hands always seem to smell of lavender or peppermint, and sometimes he does use it on you.

The boys have learnt that if you both smell like the same thing then you both most likely fucked teehee.

Dwayne’s hands are best for pulling hair!!!

Watch him tangle his digits into your hair and pull gently, maybe whenever you’re sucking him off, or when he needs a little handlebar during sex.

he likes to cover your mouth with his huge hands whenever you’re having a quickie in public, he loves the idea of keeping you quiet with just his hands over your mouth as he dicks you down in a shady alleyway.

He also looks amazing covering his lips with his hands, his veins are more prominent and they run down all the way to his upper arm.

I wouldn’t blame you if you told me you wanted to follow that long vein to the end ;)

his hands definitely flex and his veins show while he grips your headboard to death.

Dwayne’s actor, Billy rips panties with one hand, it’s no surprise Dwayne wouldn’t either.

And god he looks amazing doing so..

Hold his hands while you ride him, he wants to see you be so dependent on him and his hands, he’ll make you feel good, don’t worry! Just relax and let him do the work.

Leaves hand prints all over your body from how strong he grips!

In the end, let Dwayne wash your hair for you! He gives a good massage and he’ll leave you feeling relaxed then ever.

“Yeah…there..” you sighed in content, your stomach to your bed as a deep rumble of a chuckle was heard. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You nodded hazily, your hands gripping onto the sheets with pleasure.

“God Dwayne..when were you going to tell me you were this good?..” you groaned, feeling his huge hands run themselves down your back almost passionately. You could feel his fingers gently scan your back for any tense spots to fix.

A hearty chuckle was only heard from your boyfriend as he gently pushed his thumb into a tense spot in your back, a small crack leaving it as you let out a surprise yelp, before relaxing once again.

“Fuck..” you cursed out, feeling Dwayne’s hands reach up onto your shoulder and dig themselves into your shoulder blade. A whine left your lips as another pop was heard from your body.

You’ve never been so relaxed and turned on at this point, Dwayne feels amused by your reactions, sighing and whining in content and relaxation. He lives for the pleasure he gives you.

His hands massaged one of his favourite scented oils into your skin, hydrating it, and making you smell absolutely delicious to him, he couldn’t help but place a few kisses at the back of your neck as you felt like falling asleep under Dwayne’s touch.

After a while of a slow, long, amazing massage from Dwayne, the dark-haired man deemed you relaxed enough before he gently pulled you by the thighs, resting in between them as you yelped in surprise.

“Think you’re finished? Daddy needs his release too.”

(visuals) :

#✦ buwan consumes.#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #tlb #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x reader #tlb paul #paul tlb #✦ dwayne’s karma.#dwayne tlb #marko tlb #david tlb #✦ marko’s karma.#✦ paul’s karma.#✦ david’s karma.

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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Hello! I have ideas for Astarion and a druid Tav. Atv can shapeshift, and Astarion likes to sit in/enjoy the sun. Once they're close enough, Tav asks if they can use him as a basking perch. So sometimes Astarion will have a dog or cat in his lap, sometimes a snake around his shoulders, or even once a bird nesting in his hair (Tav was scouting and got too tired to shift back).

For some angst Tav could be injured while in animal form or stuck in one by magic and so Astarion takes them back to camp and keeps Tav close until they recover and can turn back.

It is almost 1:30am haha I need to go to bed

I also wrote this in 3rd person pov for no reason other than I felt it worked a little better

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 693

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Soft purrs fill the morning air. The sun is warm, and where Astarion sits on his rug is the first spot her rays touch every morning. And every morning, he cherishes the time he had left within it.

One hand runs idly along soft fur, while the other holds open a book. Every now and then, his pets slow down as the story becomes interesting, but he makes up for it with a gentle scratch behind the ears.

This was also part of his morning routine. Several weeks ago, the intrepid leader of their group began joining him on his rug in the morning. They asked first, of course, and they never bothered him. It was rather nice, actually. They’d read their own book or prepare herbs or even braid together a flower crown.

A week later, they had taken to shifting into an animal form and stretching out within the beams. They usually fell asleep like that. And once again, he didn’t mind. Their feline purrs were never grating or overwhelming, and even as a dog they had the decency not to drool on his stuff. The occasional snake or bird would warm themselves on a rock or perch nearby with their beak tucked under their wing. It was always a little fun to guess which animal they’d turn into each day.

And then they asked if they could lay in his lap. He’d scrunched his face up at the idea, asking why his lap was suddenly better than the rug. They’d just claimed it was hard to get comfortable lately, but they didn’t push to ask again. That day, they’d curled up in Karlach’s lap. They couldn’t sleep, because the tiefling was so busy gushing over how soft and adorable they were, and Astarion couldn’t focus on his embroidery because he’d become so used to their presence - Karlach’s noise level aside. So the next day he sighed and told them they could lay in his lap.

Now, it was so embedded into his mornings, he felt wrong without an animal on or near him. Cat or dog in his lap, snake or bird on his shoulders - he just needed something. He truly never realized just how nice petting an animal could be - even a druid disguised as one. They always thanked him afterward, though he found he wanted to thank them, too.

The sun’s rays slowly shifted. Warm, concentrated beams diffusing as it continued to rise into the mid-morning. The cat in his lap heaved a long sigh and rose to their paws. He watched as they stepped out from his crossed legs and along the rug, stretching with each step until they sat down nearby. The cat transformed back into a humanoid druid that yawned and stretched out their arms.

“Thanks,” they murmured.

Astarion chuckled. “Still tired? You’re even worse than Gale.”

They made a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle, if it was stretched and morphed by a sleepy sigh. “What can I say? Your lap is extremely comfortable.”

“I’ll add it to my list of remarkable qualities.” His head tilted as he studied them. Their shoulders drooped, their back was hunched, they rubbed their eyes, and stifled another yawn. “You look fit to collapse.”

They breathed out a long sigh. Their eyes were heavy with bags under them, staring blankly across the camp. So much to do, so little time, but Astarion was right. They wouldn’t be able to hold a half-decent conversation, let alone fight.

Astarion pat his lap, an open invitation. “I’m sure they would understand. Another day won’t kill us - hopefully.”

“How reassuring,” they muttered, but they were already shrinking back down once more into a cat. They lumbered over and curled back up, purring incessantly as they gave in to their exhaustion.

He stroked down their back again, lightly scratching along their spine. Their coat shone in the light. He wondered when the hell he’d let them get so damn close.

He sighed, allowing the mystery to fade to the back of his mind, and lifted his book once more, finding where he left off and reading on. Yeah, one day wouldn’t hurt.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

thinking abt a ruggedly handsome firefighter james who saves your cat from a tree 😭

Your prayers have gone unanswered, you discover, as the firetruck pulls up to the street. The man driving is nothing short of gorgeous, a blanket of scruff covering the lower half of his face and hair that poofs and curls over itself in bunches.

"Ma'am," He greets you, jogging over in his thick work pants and a slim t-shirt, and god it accentuates his muscular build, "My name is James Potter, I'm here to help. We got a call about a cat stuck in a tree?"

"That's me," You wish you could disappear, bashfully admitting it, "Um, I know it sounds silly, but Sardine's really scared, and I can't reach her."

"Sardine," He chuckles, a deep sound that shakes his chest, "It's alright," James soothes, grin comforting and bright, "It happens. She's up there?"

"On that branch," You point up into the mess of leaves, and James leans into your side, face beside yours so that he gets the same view you do. You catch a whiff of his cologne, musky and rugged. It makes your stomach flip.

"Ah, yep," He nods, starting for the lowest branch of the tree, "I see her. I can climb, the branches'll hold."

"Are- are you sure?" You eye your cat warily, a good thirty feet off the ground, "That's really high up."

"No problem," He grunts as he heaves himself up onto the branch with thick arms that bulge with veined muscles, "That's what they train us for, ma'am."

You watch, equal parts awestruck and dizzy with lust, as he scales the tree, climbing onto thick branch after thick branch until he's mere feet away from your cat.

"Hi, darling." James coos, voice as soft and smooth as butter, "Did you get yourself stuck up there?"

She mewls at him, desperate as her claws dig into bark.

"'S'alright," He reaches out a hand that she watches like a hawk, slowly lowering his fingers to rest before her nose, "It's okay, darling, I'm gonna help you, alright? You've got your mummy worried sick."

Sardine gives his hand a wary sniff, then bumps it with her nose. He strokes over her head once, twice, until she relaxes slightly, then he reaches for her belly.

"I know, darling." She meows warningly, "'M'not gonna hurt you, just need t'get you down. Okay? Come on, love," He slips his hand beneath her belly, and she arches her back, yowling wildly, "Come on, I've got you, just- there we go," He pulls her to his chest as she retracts her claws, "All y'had to do was let go, poor thing. I've got you now, let's get you back to mummy, yeah?"

You're worried he'll be clumsy on the dismount, unable to get down now that he's got a cat in his arms. But he keeps one arm up, lowering himself and Sardine carefully from each branch until both of his feet are securely on the ground once more.

"One Sardine," He presents your cat to you with a silly grin, and you take the poor, scared kitty into your arms once more.

"Oh, thank you," You gush, burying your face in her head to kiss her soft fur, "Really, I appreciate this, I know it's a silly thing to call in, but-"

"Not silly at all," James promises you, "Well, alright, the name's a little silly. Never heard a cat named after a fish before."

He reaches out to brush his fingers against her waving tail, and she curls it around his fingers. You laugh, a sweet sound that has James's eyes back on you, and there's an appreciative glint in your eye.

"Alright, well if that's everything," James raises his brows, and you nod fervently.

"Yes," You gush, "Thank you again, uh, I'm sure Sardine is very grateful as well."

"No more climbing trees," James leans down to be eye-level with Sardine, and she reaches a paw out to swat it at his face. She can't reach, but the action makes James laugh.

"I'll make sure that's a yes," You promise him, and he heads back for his truck, then swivels on his heel.

"Ma'am," He calls, and you wait for his question, "Do you need a ride home?"

"Oh," Your breath catches in your throat, and you clutch Sardine tighter, "Um, are you sure that's allowed?"

"'S'no trouble," James promises, grinning as he ushers you to the truck, "If another call comes in, I'll slow down to 35 and you can roll out."

"Deal," You giggle, and James sidles up behind you to help you into the truck. You almost have to jump, but James holds your hips and hoists you into the seat.

"Keep a good hold on that one," He points at Sardine, a teasing grin splitting his handsome face, "If she behaves I'll let her turn on the sirens."

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ceruleancattail · 17 days

Note

I see your requests are open and I haven’t made one in a long time. Feel free to not write about this because I am a sucker for only one or two aus🥹I’m just boring like that. I feel like I’m a regular at a cafe that asks for the same thing- I’m so sorry😭🙏

Firstly, HOW ARE YOU and take your time with these requests💖🫶 may I ask for a Nightfall Leona and Floyd? Maybe diving deep into their relationship with the reader? Or how about reader catching them in the act (of their evil deeds perhaps👀) how would Leona and Floyd react?

Nah you’re good! It’s like having a familiar face drop by and I already have the order ready to go. It’s a comforting thing, like a set routine? Please don’t feel so bad about it! I really took my time with this oops-

Nightfall Au

General Headcanons for Leona and Floyd

Leona x reader, Floyd x reader

Tw: death, gore, kinda yandere because it’s a Ceru fic, of course it is-

Leona Kingscholar

The boss of Savanaclaw.

He’s very practical in the way he runs the gang. Moving men around with a hooked finger, shifting them like pieces on the chessboard. Unfortunately, he does value each and every one of them, which makes him such an interesting person to work with.

He’ll never admit it though. Always muttering about doing things with the least amount of effort needed in his part… although his operations always seem to have the least causalities as well.

Leona knows the names of every single person who’s in Savanaclaw. He’s memorised them, actually. However, if you ever mention it, Leona’s face takes on a more sober shade.

“Ain’t nothin’ much. At least I’ll know what to put on their tombstone.”

How did he discover the Lantern?

Leona has made a habit of wandering about at night. There aren’t too many people out and about then, and those who are, were normally too drunk to care about him. For a while, Leona’s just another person on the street. It suits him just fine, really. He’ll pick a lonely corner shrouded in shadow, watching people stagger by silently. Quietly observing, taking note of each person’s pace, the way they carried themselves.

As tiresome as people were, reading them like a book was something that came naturally to Leona. Although like with every skill, it has to be practised and honed, lest the blade of talent turns dull.

Sometimes, he gets a little peckish. Walking about in the dark does that to a person. By chance, he walks by the Lantern. A 24 hour cafe, lights still twinkling from within glass doors. He pauses in front, watching the person manning the counter. How hardworking, they seemed to be. A little anxious as well, rearranging pastries over and over again. It was a rather adorable sight.

You’d piqued his interest, rather you like it or not.

Relationship with Him

It feels like he exists just to frustrate you, sometimes. Leona takes forever with his orders, dragging a crooked finger across the menu. He often has the most ridiculously convoluted orders ever, with a seemingly endless list of requirements. He likes watching your lips curl in frustration, as you mutter his order quietly under your breath.

How you’re so clearly annoyed with him, but you’re still rushing around the kitchen all the same, determined to fulfil whatever he says. It’s almost as you take it as a personal challenge.

Leona likes to watch you bustle around, pouring out your very heart into the meal. There’s a passion burning behind those eyes as you busy yourself with his order. There’s little he misses, especially if it’s about you. Your little habits in the kitchen, the way you hold your utensils… Leona sees and remembers it all.

He also doesn’t miss the gleam in your eyes and you place his order before him, beaming at a job well done. That pride you take in your work is rather respectable. Your smile then is also pretty cute, honestly.

As much Leona likes to tease, you hardly feel any malice from his actions. It’s almost as if you’re being batted around softly by a cat’s paws, a treasured possession. Something to amuse him, for a while. Yet there was a warmth behind his expression, whenever you met his gaze. An almost tender look.

Ever since Leona started frequenting your cafe, tools haven’t seem to be breaking down as often. Heck, you don’t even remember having this much silverware. It’s almost as if they multiply by themselves every week… how strange.

Probably nothing much… right?

If He’s caught in Red-Handed

Leona doesn’t take drastic measures to appear like a normal citizen. Lying to you would be too much of a bother, so what he does is to mislead you. If you question about his occupation, Leona just says he runs an organisation. He’ll not elaborate much, only keeping things to short sentences and grunts, neither confirming nor denying any of your questions.

Although if he’s finally caught in the act, it would probably in the name of protecting you or the cafe. Calmly shooting someone who dared to attempt a robbery in the Lantern point blank, without even so much as a change in expression. Leona would simply call up some of his men to clean up the mess.

Don’t worry, no crime will be linked back to you, so don’t worry your lil’ head, herbivore.

If you’re shocked, he’s just going to laugh at the way your eyes widen. Did he ever tell you what he did? No? So why are you surprised by this? Whatever expectations you have in your head, dash them.

He’s a murderer, and that’s what he’ll stay as.

Chuckling coldly, he’ll simply tuck his payment under his cup, before walking off into the night. Having people target the cafe means that you’ll be in danger. So Leona will simply take his leave. Let those ruffians chase him instead.

He’ll still keep tabs on you, watching from building rooftops, from within parked cars. Leona’s still staring wistfully into the kitchen you roam within. Even after all his big talk, he’s the one who can’t leave you.

Although if you were the one who was attacked, you’ll get to see the brutality of Leona Kingscholar. A shot to the head was too merciful for scum like them. Leona’s arm snakes around your waist, yanking you closer to him. While he fires round after round into the attacker’s thighs, rendering them immobile. What happens next? Leona wouldn’t let you see.

He’ll yank you into his coat, shielding your eyes from whatever gruesome scene awaits before you. A part of him feels a pang of pain at the way you shiver and tremble within his grasp. You’ve been led to believe the great big cat who frequented your store was docile. Now, you’ve seen his fangs.

For once, you’re afraid of the lion.

You won’t have any say, if this happens. Leona’s dragging you into a car and taking you… somewhere. Somewhere “safe”. Everything you need from your house? He’s sending men over right now to grab everything they can. You were almost murdered on Leona’s watch. You can bet he’s worried to death about your safety now.

You’re just some herbivore, after all. If he wasn’t there… no. He was there. And he’ll always be, from now on.

You’ll never leave his side ever again.

Floyd Leech

The famed loose canon of Octavinelle, Floyd Leech. Dual wielding a pair of destructive guns, he’s famed for the absolute blood baths he leaves behind. He’s who Octavinelle sends whenever they want to make a statement. Whether it’s to threaten rival gangs to return what they’re owe, or to destroy them entirely, Floyd’s the guy for the job.

The only problem is that he’s a little too unpredictable for fine operations. If you make him wait too long, he’s stepping on the gas and leaving you far, far behind in the dust. Not the best trait you’ll want in a getaway driver.

As crazed as people make him out to be, Floyd can be reasoned with. He actively ensures that whatever deals he deals are “fair” in the loosest sense. Both parties have to gain something, in order for it to be called a deal, after all.

If something’s a waste of time, Floyd would tell you that straight up. Was it him being kind, or could he just not be bothered to lie? Nobody really knows.

How did he discover the Lantern?

He was probably hungry. For those who lurk within the shadows, the night is the best time to work. After all, it’s called the “dead of night” for a reason. It’s already dead, so what’s the difference of adding more deaths to that phrase?

The problem is that not a lot of stores are open at these ungodly hours, and Floyd’s pretty sick of eating instant meals. Sure, they’re tasty, but if you eat enough of them, they just feel… dry. Empty, in an odd sort of way. Also, if he eats too much, he’ll feel sick, so no thanks.

So he’ll drag himself from street to street, searching for something to satisfy his grumbling stomach. Until he spots a light in the distance, and the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread waft into his nostrils. His gaze flickers up to a signboard before him.

The Lantern, huh? The worker’s kinda’ cute. Scampering here and there like a lil’ shrimp caught up in the currents. Hey, maybe he’ll call them shrimpy.

Guess he could give this place a try. Anything’s better than eating out of a plastic box again.

Relationship with Him

Floyd pesters you all the time. Leaning over the counter, fiddling with the bell until you come out. Even then, you have to physically pry the bell out of his hands for him to stop ringing it. He’s stubborn, though.

So both of you end up in a wrestle for the bell, fingers slipping and pulling away. Floyd plays dirty, though. He’ll hold it high above your head so you’ll have to jump and try to reach it. He’s laughing all the while. Yet there’s a weakness in that tactic you exploit daily.

His sides. You’ll jab and tickle him until Floyd’s laughing hysterically, and the bell will drop. These little tussles add some colour to your day, at the very least. After a shift of standing idle, a playful fight helps to get some blood pumping. As much as you grumble about it, you have to admit that it’s fun.

Floyd always seems to pop in at odd hours, so most of the time it’s just you and him. While you’re whipping up his massive order (how can one guy eat that much?), Floyd’s doing some redecorating. Pushing all the tables together to form one big table, arranging the chairs so there’s two of them, facing each other.

Sometimes, if you’re shorter than him, he stacks up the chairs as a personal jibe at you. If you’re taller than him, now he’ll stack up his own chairs, so he towers above you.

Floyd always shares half of what he orders with you. Even if you refuse, he’s grabbing you by the wrist and forcing a spoonful of desert into your mouth. How is it? Isn’t it so good? Y’know, Floyd does really like the cooking here. He does appreciate the effort you put into each and every single thing you serve, so what better way to thank you than to encourage force you into taking a break?

Besides, there isn’t anyone else in the store now. Just you and him. Aw, you went all red when he said that. Hopeless romantic, huh?

That’s cute, shrimpy.

If He’s caught Red-Handed

Floyd’s another guy who would simply not care. Ask him no questions, and he’ll tell no lies. He effectively hushes your endless inquires with howling laughter, before his voice drops:

“Do you really want to know?”

He’s not against telling you what he does for a living, but Floyd wouldn’t want to scare you away… too soon, at least. Although, he drops a few hints here and there sometimes, just to see that flicker of panic flitter over your expression. Allowing you to catch a small glimpse of his holsters, rolling up his sleeves to reveal arms filled with tattoos swirling around his arms.

Sometimes, he’ll come to the Lantern all battered up. Nothing too drastic, only a few cuts and scrapes all over his skin. He’ll throw his arms over your shoulders, whining about how much it stings, how much it hurts until you cave in and give him some attention.

Floyd loves it when you tend to his wounds. Every touch gentle, pressing softly into his tender skin. Even your chiding sounds melodious to his ears. Man, you’re really worried about him, aren’t you?

He’s silent during those times, content with watching your hands wash and dress his wounds. Your fingertips brush against his hands sometimes, a warm caress. It’s gone all too soon, warmth vanishing into the air. Floyd’s left craving for more, long after your hands leave his skin.

Your warmth, your touch, your love… Floyd just wants it all. But he’s not rash. He’ll wait patiently for you, until the lil’ shrimp wanders into his clutches themselves… then he’ll engulf them in his embrace then. He’ll wait.

Of course, that is if you’re safe.

For Floyd, no matter whether it’s the Lantern or you that’s attacked, he’s seeing red. The Lantern was your workplace. It could have hurt you, killed you-

There’s no reasoning with Floyd on this. He’s not even going to bother with calling backup. He’s holding up both of his guns, sending bullet after bullet after the attackers with a deathly calmness. Floyd fires again and again, until the click of his guns alert him to the lack of bullets within.

Oh, if they attack you? Floyd’s pulling out all the stops. He wouldn’t even bother with a gun, effectively tackling the attacker with his arms alone, disarming them with a sharp slap to the wrist. A sadistic grin spread across his lips, you’ll have to close your own eyes as he snaps the poor attacker’s arms.

It’s messy, it’s gruesome, it’s cruel.

A pair of wet hands grab at your hands, staining your fingers a bright crimson red. Hey, why are you looking away? There’s no need to be scared now, Floyd took care of it. They were going to do so much worse to you, Y’know?

His arms snake around your torso, pulling you gently towards his torso. Floyd’s doing his best to be all soft and gentle to you, and you know that. But it’s hard not to be afraid of those same soft and tender hands, once you’ve seen them quite literally rip a person apart.

Aw, you’re trembling, Shrimpy! Relax, Floyd’s going to bring you somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s just you and him.

Isn’t that just so nice of him?

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k-hotchoisan · 5 months

Note

Congrats on 500! I’m requesting number 5 😁🫶🏻

5. Get spanked by San or Dom Hongjoong?

wE’RE ALMOST TO THE END MY ANGEL and obviously how could I NOT write spanking if it’s not Choi San and his love for asses 🍑

ENJOY 🩷🌶️

Bad kitties need to be punished and San knows just the way to do it

Warnings: smut, spanking kink, suggestive, cat hybrid!Reader, degradation & punishment, impact play

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

San has kept cats. He has a pet cat back home. But when finds out your actual form, he’s rendered speechless—when he wakes up one day , feeling something soft curl around his leg and he spots a pair of fluffy cat ears twitch under the covers, San pulls back the sheets frantically and he stares at you in your hybrid feline form. Your eyes slowly open as you rub your eyes, your slits turning circular when you spot the shocked male before you.

He likes the way you always curl around him, pawing at his lap, and some times just lying your head there while he does his work. Despite the fact that you’re part human, sometimes you just grow mischievous, enjoying poking fun at your human partner, even teasing him by grinding against his crotch when you’re both comfortably cuddling, before you leave him completely high and dry. San tolerates it at first, but it’s starting to drive him insane at the way you’re constantly teasing him like that, especially when you look at him with those fuckin feline eyes.

The final straw was when you had you head nuzzled on San’s lap as usual, with San stroking your hair, and sometimes he massages your ears, and you let out soft purrs, pressing your head into his bare thighs. You stick your tongue out, giving kitten licks, and you feel San squirm slightly in his seat as you travel dangerously close to his crotch.

“Kitty”, he calls endearingly, despite the warning behind the soft tone. You ignore him, giving his thighs a couple more licks as San shifts beneath you, and you don’t miss the way you see his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. You wonder how much you should push him.

It turns out, not much. That’s mostly because when you bare your small fangs and bite down onto his inner thigh, he jolts with a low groan, and the hand on your ears grip your hair instead, as he tugs your head up to face him.

“I think I’ve been patient enough, kitty”, he mutters, pitch low enough to send electricity down your spine from the anticipation. You only stare back with a small smile.

“Have you?” You ask, your tail trailing across his jaw. San stares down at you, and you see something flash across his eyes, something that makes you want to bolt.

But for once, he’s faster, his muscled arm curled around your waist, holding you down and essentially trapping you. You claw at his arm, almost flailing and his free arm grabs both your wrist, pinning them before you. You severely underestimate his strength, because he pulls you onto his lap as if you’re a rag doll.

You mewl, your tail flailing, as you feel your shorts being tugged off you, only your bare ass out with your pretty panties which is slowly starting to soak.

“Bad kittens need to be punished”, San hums, his palm grazing over your soft and supple flesh. Your tail instinctively coils around his arm.

San has always prided himself as an ass man, and deep inside, he’s always wanted a piece of yours, but you were always teasing him, and he finally snapped. Among all of the times he’s been teased by you—the lap grinding, your kitten licks, the worst was by far whenever he sees you stretch. You always had your back arched, your tail fully erected, and your ass fully out, especially right when he walks into the room. He knows you do it on purpose, because when you stare at him, you accompany your alluring stare with a smirk.

But now, he has you trapped in his arms, right where he wants you.

He doesn’t give you a warning before his hand lands on your ass, the sound of the slap louder than your squeal. Your eyes are blown wide open this time, not from the sting, but from the shock.

And for some fuck ass reason, it’s starting to make you wet.

“How many times did you do that? Teasing, licking, biting. What else is there?” You hear San’s voice above you, feigning being lost in thought.

When he doesn’t get an answer, the sound of your ass being slapped echoes in your shared apartment, and you hiss, jolting forward as San shifts you back into position.

“Kitten, tell me, what else did you do?”

You barely form the thoughts to even answer him. But you try, “grinding?”

Another slap. Your mind is starting to melt as the sting begins to make you leak more.

“You’re partially right. But it’s the worst when you stretch. Bad kitty, having your ass up in the air whenever I walk in. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

Fuck. You really did underestimate him. You feel his hard cock pressed against your hip. The tip of his shorts is starting to get wet.

You jolt when his palm meets your skin, this time a moan leaving your lips as you shudder. San cocks an eyebrow. His eyes cast down at the growing dark patch on your panties and scoffs.

“Just how dirty is my kitty? Getting off being punished like this?” He lands another one, but lingers to grab a fistful of your ass, groaning at how your ass spills between this fingers. San cannot keep his eyes off at the way it jiggles whenever he lands his palm on it, and it’s driving him up the wall.

He rubs your ass gently, admiring at how the pink tint is gradually flooding your cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry”, you manage to choke out, fighting against the pleasure pulsing in your gradually wet cunt.

San doesn’t answer you, but he yanks your panties off, tossing it somewhere on the couch, you don’t know. You gasp at the cold breeze tickling your bare cunt now. He soaks two fingers in his mouth, and soon you jolt from the feeling of two digits rubbing against your clit.

“S-Sannie”, you mewl, struggling against his grip. He doesn’t relent, or rather, his grip only tightens. “P-please!”

“Count your spankings. One for every way you’ve teased me. We’ll start over from one if you don’t do it right. Is that clear, kitten?”

You whine. Another smack.

“Y-yes”, you spit, this time the sensitivity at whole another notch now that your bare cunt is exposed.

“Good kitty.”

San raises his hand.

Smack.

“One”, you begin, biting the inner of your cheek.

Smack.

“Two…” you trail, once you’re able to relax your hips.

Smack.

For some reason, the third smack had your eyes rolled back. You feel more slick leak, now your inner thighs are so dirty with your juices. It’s beginning to stain San’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to heed attention to it.

“Kitty”, San coos, and another smack echoes through the apartment. “We’re starting over.”

You’re beginning to sob, from how sensitive your ass is getting from all the spanking, and the more he does it, the more you feel your mind about break from good it feels. Your ears are pointed forward.

Smack.

“One.”

Smack.

“T-two.”

Smack.

“Three”, you whimper, trying to lick the drool that pooled at the corner of your lips.

Smack.

“F-four”, You shift uncomfortably, wanting some sort of friction on your clit. It’s getting too much.

Smack.

“F-five”, you sob, your thighs contracting as more slick oozes out of your neglected pussy. You are so unbelievably drenched that your mind has completely gone hazy, and you don’t register the way San is stroking your ass to relive some of the numbness of the sting.

San releases your wrists, and has you sit on his lap while presses gentle kisses on your temple, showering you with praises.

“That’s my good kitty. You took them so well. Did I hurt you too much?” He asks, combing your hair from your face before he wipes the tear stain from your cheeks. Your ears twitch.

You shake your head. If he did, you’d probably stop him, and he would have definitely stopped. A soft smile spreads across your partner’s lips as he cups your cheeks, and you feel all ounces of rationality slip out of your mind when his lips are on yours, and your tail coils around his arm by instinct, your ears completely relaxing in his touch.

You push him back when your lips part from his, and you’re sitting directly on his stiff erection. His shorts are so stained from the mixture of his precum and your dirty juices.

“Hit me more when you’re fucking me stupid, please”, you mutter as you grind softy against his hips, San’s groans filling your sensitive ears.

His fingers press against your hips and his tongue peeks at the corner of his lips.

“Naughty kitty.”

#k’s500thisorthat🌶️#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #Choi san #ateez san #San ateez #choi san x reader #san x y/n #san imagines #san x reader

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