PUPPY PLAYTIME EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

PUPPY PLAYTIME — EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

✧. ┊word count: 4.5k+

✧. ┊pairing: hyrbid puppy!kirishima x owner!reader

✧. ┊rating: 18+ minors (ages 17 and under)and ageless blogs do not interact or you will be blocked!

✧. ┊warnings: all characters aged up 20+, afab!reader, no pronouns used, hybrid puppy!kirishima, owner!reader, oral (reader receiving), male masturbation (bed humping), mentions of previous sexual encounters, kinda consent heavy?, begging, praise, somewhat inexperienced kiri, licking, cum eating?, pet names: puppy, good boy.

✧. ┊a/n: thank you @tteokdoroki for beta-reading and talking about puppy!kiri with me 🥺🥺 and ty to @kazuwhora for bringing back my hyrbid brainrot 😵‍💫😵‍💫

✧. ┊ collab: for @fuwushiguro’s hyrbid collab! here’s the link to the collab’s masterlist!

✧. ┊tagging: @planetonet

Kirishima was the best hybrid you could’ve ever asked for. He was big and strong and could easily protect you and your place—and though this was the reason you had gotten him in the first place—he was also sweet and the cutest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Everything a puppy should be.

He treated you like royalty and his adoration for you was endless. You could see it in the way he stared at you with hearts in his eyes any time you so much as breathed. He was always so kind to you. Always greeting you at the door with a wagging tail and bright smile when you come home from work. Cooking for the two of you when you had a long day and were too tired to make food for you both. He used to even drop his toys on your side of the bed for you to play with too, until he realized you didn’t like to play with them the same way he did. 

He was sweet and kind, and in your eyes, perfect. He was your good puppy. He always cared for you and you did your best to care for him, too. 

Keep reading

Gamble

Notes: Anthony x Reader - This one's a bit long (2.3k)

Request: Could you do an Anthony x reader with prompt #48? (“You’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me.”) set during the reader’s first season perhaps… thank you!

Request: Hi! I love your writing and I was just wondering if you could do an Anthony x reader fic where they’ve always been best friends and are always at each others side but then some other guy starts showing interest in the reader and they spend more time together which makes Anthony jealous and realize his feelings? Thank you!

Warnings: Anxiety.

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

Anthony Bridgerton had always been controlling; over his family, his affairs, and even yourself- you were his best friend after all. It never really bothered you, for the most part it meant always having someone looking out for you, that is until your first season. You weren't exactly a diamond of the first water but you certainly weren't unattractive, and it definitely didn't hurt that you were popular with the Bridgerton's- you expected your first season to be quite productive indeed. And, initially, it was.

You arrived at the Bridgerton country home for the weekend much later than you had intended. You were surprisingly sought after that morning, your mother typically hosted at least a few suitors every afternoon but that day they just kept coming until you absolutely had to excuse yourself for your journey up from London. "I reckon Y/N will be engaged by the end of the month," Daphne declared, beaming at you across Violet's table. This roused a great deal of teasing, mostly centering around how you were going to forget about them and move to Scotland or some such thing. Anthony was being suspiciously quiet. He was always the brooding sort but usually, surrounded by his family, he perked up a bit. "What's wrong with you?" he was sitting a the head of the table, between you and Benedict. "You were supposed to be here earlier. Then we wouldn't have to deal with all this," he made a vague hand gesture towards the rest of the table. "You're not enjoying our company, brother?" Benedict teased, effectively turning this into a table discussion. "Besides, Y/N was a little caught up," Colin snickered. "Can't you live without her for a second, Anthony?" Eloise added, ripping the spoon Gregory was banging out of his hand. "Of course not," Francesca deadpanned. Anthony looked affronted she even engaged in this conversation and gave her the fiercest he could muster for her, which wasn’t that fierce at all. You took his hand under the table, reclaiming his attention. "I would have rather been here, with you," "You don't fancy anyone, then?" there was almost an intimation of a smile there. You narrowed your eyes, if you had known him any less you would surely have missed it but you did know him, you caught it, and you had no idea what it meant. "Not yet," you looked into one another's eyes, a unknown tension building until Violet decided it was time for dessert.

Anthony had already joined the shooting party by the time you came down for breakfast the following morning. It wasn't that late but you were the only one at the table. You plated eggs but focused almost entirely on the pastries before joining the rest of the group. It was a perfect day, clear skies and the slightest breeze, and everyone was in good spirits. You caught up with him in a group of his friends. You weren't planning on joining, wanting instead to hang back with the ladies and goad them into playing cards, but some of the men let out a groan when they saw you. "Please, tell me she isn't joining," one of them said. You only recognized a few of them, definitely not the one who spoke. "Easy fix: don't give her a pistol," Arthur Barnaby commented with a grand smile on his face. He was always in good spirits and was quite a fan of yours, proven by his sarcastic tone. "I brought my own, I'm afraid," you teased. "I should like to see that," another mused. You recognized him as Lord Kittridge but were never formally introduced. "I do not believe you do," you winked, "but do not fret, I already had plans to gamble these ladies out of their dowries," you spun on your heel a joined the rest of the women. "Y/N!" Anthony called, jogging up behind you, "you're in fine form today." "As per usual, dearest Anthony." He smiled at that. "If I stake you, would you give me a percentage?" he gave you a smirk. "How ungentlemanly," you feigned a gasp. "You adore me for it," his expression turned wicked and you felt your heart skip a beat. You weren't sure if that had ever happened before, he had been more attentive to you recently so perhaps that was the cause. "That is fair," you sighed, "but I did not realize the Bridgerton estate was in such dire straits, you should have come to me sooner." "Keep your voice down!" he laughed, pushing you slightly, "If that rumor started swirling then I shall be stuck with my siblings forever." "It will be worse for them, I assure you." "Then think of my poor brothers and sisters and please," he grabbed your face, "shut your mouth." "As you wish, my lord," and you did a small curtsy prompting that wicked look again. You bit your lip, plucked a glass off a footman's tray, and seated yourself next to Daphne. "I believe Lord Kittredge has his eye on you," she whispered behind her white glove. "What?" your eyes widened. "He has been peering at you since you stepped on the lawn." You snuck a glance at him and, sure enough, he was looking at you. You caught his eye and blushed, immediately looking down to your lap. He was really quite handsome; tall and broad with eyes the color spring grass. His hair was graying around the edges, despite him being barely twenty-seven, but it was really rather becoming on him. "I heard his father was completely gray by thirty," one lady commented. "But he kept all his hair," another added. "And he has no siblings," the first one said. "He really is a catch," Daphne mused. "Why haven't I been hearing about him?" you asked. You would think he would be the talk of the ton, a handsome unwed Marquess with absolutely no responsibilities. "Well, he has avoided society events like the plague," the second lady explained. "Someone told me that he mostly stays on his estate in Scotland," a third one joined the conversation, how ironic. "A handsome recluse," Eloise finally looked up from her book, "sounds like the hero of a novel." "Is that a good thing?" you asked her. "It would certainly be entertaining," she shrugged. You took a sip from your lemonade, not even sure how to process the conversation you just had, and listened to the firing sounds of the shooting, completely forgetting about the cards.

"At any rate, you will have another opportunity this evening," Anthony was right. All of his friends were avid gamblers, even the ladies though it was never outwardly mentioned, and tonight was game night. You did have your eye on Lady Margaret's pearls and you were sure she would put them on the table. You all were getting seated in a circle around the room to play courtiers. You were sat near Anthony, Lady Margaret, and Lord Kittridge. Lady Margaret was an incredibly wealthy woman married to an Earl who dashed off to India mere weeks after their nuptials. She drank heavily and encouraged everyone in her company to join in. She might have been the youngest eccentric to ever live, with a fun-loving spirit and odd Versailles-inspired baubles in her hair. You were proud to say that you were one of the only people she considered a friend. “Lady Margaret, I love that necklace of yours,” you said, leaning forward to look at her. Anthony threw his arm over the back of your chair, leaning back so as not to be in your way. “It’s yours, darling,” she winked, pouring herself another glass of champagne, “if you can win it off me.” "How might I encourage you to put it on the line?" you inquired and took a sip of Anthony's glass. The way courtiers worked was someone was selected to play the king or queen and the rest of the participants were her courtiers. Any movement the king or queen made must be replicated by the courtiers with all the gravity that the action of a monarch possessed, meaning that if anyone so much as grinned or, god forbid, laughed they must forfeit. "I can think of a few ways," Lord Kittridge smirked. You ignored him completely but you did not miss the sharp glare Anthony sent him. "That carnelian ring of yours is quite enticing." And you nodded. Lady Margaret clapped her hands together in excitement, "Shall we place our bets on who will be the first to break?" You all went silent, looking around the room trying to decide who was the weakest link. The men joined in, just for fun. One of the Smythe-Smith cousins was selected to be queen and the game was about to commence. "Colin," Anthony decided. Colin sat across the room continuously reaching over this poor woman to get to the dessert table- although she did not seem to mind, which made sense considering how handsome and eligible the Bridgerton brother was. "That is only wishful thinking on your part," you commented, placing a hand on his side. "Nevertheless," he smiled at you. "I reckon the tall redhead," Lord Kittridge nodded towards the woman who you had to admit you had never seen without a smile. "Much too obvious a guess," Lady Margaret tutted. "I choose Benedict," you decided and leaned back in your seat. "Benedict?" Anthony laughed, "terrible guess." "It will be him," you had a feeling. "I reckon Mister Bridgerton would be rather good at this game," Lady Margaret brought her hand to her chin. "Oh, he is. I don't believe he has ever lost." "He will tonight." "Alright, everyone!" Daphne announced, trying to quiet the room. "Mister Barnaby," Lady Margaret gestured to him, pouring perhaps his sixth glass of wine. You had to admit it was a good guess, certainly better than yours, but you trusted your gut. "What happens if neither of you is correct?" Lord Kittridge asked. You and Lady Margaret only scoffed in response. Daphne finally succeeded in getting everyone's attention and demonstrated to the queen to start the game. The gestures were boring at first: a fan of the hand, the cross of a leg. Then, the queen graduated into making noise: a yawn, a gasp, a snore. You watched Benedict closely. Lady Margaret clenched her fist; Arthur was about to crack, his lips were pressed together. Queen Sythe-Smith let out a haughty breath of air, all thirty courtiers repeated it making their best effort at dead seriousness, and Benedict cracked a smile. "Ha!" you pointed to him and the room erupted into laughter, shock, and relief that it was Benedict. "Damn," Lady Margaret slapped her knee, "I had a good chance with Mister Barnaby," she unclasped

her necklace and handed it to you. "Allow me," Lord Kittridge took it from you. Lady Margaret waggled her brows and stood, dragging a reluctant Anthony with her. You turned your back to him and he strung the pearls around you, his cold fingers grazing your neck, shooting a shiver down your spine. "It looks wonderful on you," he said after securing the clasp. "Thank you, Lord Kittridge," you blushed. "Please, call me Kit," he gave you the most dazzling smile and topped off your drink, "or, at the very least, Lord Kit." "Alright, Lord Kit," you looked up at him through your lashes. He was spectacularly handsome. "You really are quite the lucky sort." "Anthony always says that I hoard it all," you laughed. "In that case, I might have to keep you all to myself, in hopes that some will rub off on me." Your eyes widened and you stammered something intelligible. "We do not have to tell your Anthony, if that would make you more comfortable." You couldn't believe your ears. Never in your life had a man been so forward with you. Candlelight flickered in his eyes and everything seemed to slow. You took a gulp of your champagne and tried your hardest to appear confident but you were so hot in your dress it seemed nearly impossible. "I believe I need some air," you choked out. "I will accompany you," you walked in silence to the gardens, filled with a group of people toasting and enjoying the night. You remained close to the house, suddenly wondering where Anthony was, even peering through the window to try and spot him. "Are you enjoying the weekend?" you made small talk, trying your damndest to ignore the feeling that your stays were suffocating you. He responded, sticking to perfectly respectable topics of conversation, but his deep eyes felt as if they were peering into your soul and you weren't sure you liked it. The tall smiling redhead stumbled into you, her hands flying to Lord Kittridge's arms for support. You took that moment to excuse yourself and walked briskly into the house and up the stairs, bursting into the nearest bedroom. It was dark and quiet. You fell against the wall breathing heavily and pulling at your dress, trying to get some air. The door burst open and Anthony found you leaning against the bedpost. You weakly asked for help. "What do you need me to do?" his voice full of worry. "Shut the door." He did it immediately. Your vision began to blur and your head felt light and you couldn't get any air to save your life. Anthony grabbed onto your waist, swiftly undid the buttons at the back of your dress, and pulled at the strings of your stays. He spun you around and tipped your face up to his. "Better?" you nodded weakly, allowing your lungs to be filled. You fell against his chest, suddenly terribly exhausted, and he wrapped his arms around you. There was knocking at the door, "Y/N? Are you in there?" it was Lord Kittridge, "Are you alright?" "Piss off," Anthony shouted before pulling you even closer to him, "are you interested in him?" you shook your head no, your eyes closed, enjoying the steady bobbing of his chest, "Good. You’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me." You nodded, wanting nothing more.

BTS @ 2022 64TH GRAMMY AWARDS RED CARPET

May I request a meet cute with bo 🥺 perhaps with the sex swing-

RUNS AWAY

GET BACK HERE AND GET YOUR PORN

Also, this like my second time writing an nsfw fic so take it easy on me, dear readers.

-

warnings: hard NSFW, gender neutral AFAB reader, oral sex (F recieving,) vaginal penetration, blindfolds, gags, rough sex, bondage (I think sex swings fall under bondage??) dubcon (reader is a willing participant dw,) dirty talk, degradation, praise, brief violence mentions

MINORS ABSOLUTELY DO NOT INTERACT

•┈┈┈••✦♥✦••┈┈┈•

This had started innocently, you swear.

You and a few friends had rolled in to Ambrose with two flat tires, having been directed there by a man in a dirty truck earlier. It was in said town that you met the man who introduced himself as Bo, the mechanic you'd been sent to find.

You'd gone red the moment you laid eyes on him. He was handsome, charming, and totally your type. At some point in the shop you'd dropped your phone, and before you could bend down to grab it Bo had crouched to get it himself, flashing you a crooked smile and a "There ya are darlin'." as he handed it back to you. You felt your knees weaken a bit as you caught his pretty blue eyes.

That was all about four hours ago. Now, with your friends likely dead and gone, you found yourself in a basement below the shop. blindfolded, gagged, naked, and suspended. Your back and shoulders were supported by a hammock of fabric, your wrists tied on the straps next to your shoulders, and your knees held up by two more straps. You weren't innocent, you knew a sex swing when you saw one....or rather, you supposed, ended up in one.

You felt a gentle hand stroke up your calf that sent shivers through your body, the hand continued feather light down your thigh and up your body, coming to rest cupping your face, the cold metal of your captors ring against your cheek a stark contrast to the heat of your face. Your core clenched against your will as a voice purred in your ear,

"Well don't you just look pretty as a picture like this, darlin'."

You felt his breath fan your face, and could practically hear his grin behind that sweet southern drawl, you recognized that voice. Bo.

You whimpered, and he chuckled. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before speaking again, softer, sweeter, mocking.

"Don't worry sugar, you're gonna like this," his lips traveled to your throat, placing an open mouthed kiss there "I'm gonna make ya feel reaaalll good..."

Suddenly, his hand on your cheek moved down, the other hand coming up. He explored and groped your body with a surprising reverence while his mouth worked on your neck and collarbone, sucking and biting every so often just to make your breath hitch.

You were already wet by the time his kisses traveled to your hip bones, making their way to your inner thighs. Once again, Bo broke the silence with a chuckle:

"Shit, you're practically drippin' for me and I've hardly touched ya. You some kinda perv~?" as soon as the last syllable left his lips he bit the inside of your thigh, startling a moan out of you. He laughed again, "That's what I like to hear."

Without another word, he dove in to your core, tongue stroking through your folds and coming back up to flick at your clit. You made a sudden strangled noise, he didn't let up for even a second, his hands found your hips and gripped in a way that would surely bruise as he ate you out like a man starved.

After a few minutes of licking and sucking, a hand slid under your thigh and joined his tongue as he slipped a finger into your heat, pumping only a few times before adding another. His tongue flicked your clit as he crooked his fingers inside you, searching for your gspot as he thrusted his arm. You clenched and let out a moan only hardly muffled by the gag when he found it, and you felt him smirk against you before he sucked hard on your clit, repeatedly pumping his fingers against your gspot at just the right angle.

Your first orgasm hit you like a truck, all at once you saw stars, crying out and attempting to squeeze your thighs together, stopped by the head still between your thighs. Bo continued lapping at your clit and pumping his fingers all the way through your orgasam, pulling back only when you stopped seizing. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, removing his digits from your heat while his other hand on your hip loosened to gently rub circles in an attempt to ground you.

"Easy there sweetheart, stay with me," he rose and you heard fabric shift and his belt unbuckle "We ain't done yet."

Seconds later you felt his tip against you, stroking up and down between your folds, teasing your hole and rubbing against your still sensitive clit. You felt his lips on your neck once more as he slowly pushed into you, he grunted softly at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. You felt tears well up at the sweet burn and stretch of his cock.

He stilled when he bottomed out, considerate enough to give you a moment to adjust. He was just above average in length, but thick. You whimpered as he pressed a kiss to your jaw and began to move.

His pace was steady at first, but as your whines and moans continued, his resolve lessened further and further. Soon enough, his hips were slapping against yours and the head of his cock surely bruising your cervix. Previously unshed tears now being soaked up by your blindfold.

He straightened, hands planting themselves on your upper thighs as he pounded into you. The sound of his grunts and stifled moans making you clench around his length.

Obscene squelching came from where your bodies met, and you heard a laugh from above you.

"Fuck, your hear that? You like getting fucked like a slut, cher'? Shit, and I thought you were just a shy lil thing. But here you are, moaning like a whore while I fuck ya like one."

His degrading only made you clench again, drawing another chuckle out of him. Your head was spinning as you felt your second orgasm beginning to build in your core, you whimpered and moaned louder than ever, wordlessly begging for just a bit more, begging to be allowed your high.

"You 'bout to cum again darlin'? You wanna cum on my cock?" Another laugh "Hell, who am I to deny such a pretty little thing?"

He slid a hand to your mound, thumb finding your clit and rubbing in small circles, finally sending you over the edge with a muffled shout. You clenched hard around him, and his thrusts became less steady and more needy, moments later he was pulling out quickly and cumming on your stomach and chest.

You were both still for a few beats, breathing heavily and coming down from your respective highs. Again, he chuckled from his chest. His hands came up to untie your blindfold, one rested again on your hip and another gripped your chin to make you look at those pretty blue eyes you'd been charmed by just hours earlier. He had a dark grin on his face as he scanned your face.

"Shit baby, I think I might just keep ya."

“my dream is to be a dad”

art is to feel (ch. 1)

Series: art is to feel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life? 

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I love Bridgerton with all my heart, I was trying to start a regency!au fic with Din Djarin and somehow wrote this instead lol (the regency!din is on its way tho dont worry). Please let me know all of your thoughts and feels on this story as I being to map out future chapters.

// (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

Dear Reader,

The social season is upon us once again. It feels like just yesterday the ton was abuzz with the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings. But of course, their first child, a son, was born two months ago. I’ve been told the heir is happy and healthy. And with the host of aunts and uncles, the future Duke shall never be without love and attention.

This author also has it on good authority that the Viscount, Anthony Bridgerton has stated his intention to finally find a wife. A fact that has many of the ton’s advantageous mamas jockeying for the Viscount’s attentions. 

That of course begs the question-

Will the newborn Duke have a new aunt by the end of this season?

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 20 April 1814

Keep reading