cringe and free

he/they. open request! english is no my first lenguage

[callsigneepy]

|hybrid k9 reader and handler simon.

simon becomes very protective of you, he tends to hold his breath when he lets go of your leash, watching you bolt inside of an abandoned house to search. he finds his hand resting between your ears most of the time, giving you treats even when you are just sitting close when he trains.

simon almost said no, almost, but when soap said something about hitting a bar your tail started wagging, you loved people and praises, and bars meant people who would want to pet you. it felt weird to walk besides someone that wasn’t simon, it felt weird to not feel him tug your leash, the vest around your body preventing you from running off, it felt wrong to not have a leash on.

when you push inside of the bar, the music and chatter fill your ears, they go down and press into your head to protect them from the fuzz. a small pat on your lower back makes you keep walking, "heel" simon whispers near your ear as he walks past, your feet start moving before you can process what he said, your body close to his as you made it to the table where the others sat at. his hand pats the side of his thigh, “sit” he points at the chair besides him, you sit down, your tail wagging against the leg of your chair.

“jesus, give ‘em a break, we ain’t are relaxing” soap says with a big smile, he has seen how simon can get with you, his jaw clenches below his plain black balaclava, his eyes drifting back to you. “go on, relax” his voice is low, it carries that authority he never leaves behind, yet, your brain doesn’t register it as a command, he sees the small tilt in your head, how your ears perk up slightly. from the other side of the table, you can hear the faint laugh of soap, he is having the best night watching you two.

simons eyes never leave yours, “for fucks sake, sure” he mumbles under his breath. “fetch” he says in the same tone he uses in the field, serious, you feel a shiver run down your spine. “cold beer, biggest one they have and whatever you want, go” as soon as simon says go you stand up, walking towards the bar, your tail wagging so hard it accidentally bumps into people on the way there.

once you get back with two drinks, simon stares at you and points at the chair, you sit down. “good pup” he whispers once you are sat besides him, “we need to work on your own decision making, yeah? out of the leash, you do wha’ever you want, yeah? speak” your small nod turns into a quiet yes, sir, it defeats the whole purpose of what simon wants to do, which he doesn’t really want to, he likes how you cling to him everywhere, he likes you on the leash, waiting for commands, smiling when getting praised, he just hates how teasing johnny gets at times. “okay! let’s go” after a few drinks johnny is dragging out of your chair and into the bar, away from simon, you want to protest, to sit back down, to tell him that you don’t have permission. “we ain’t working, relax” he says, and you try to remember how simon said you can make your own decisions. after ordering a round of shots of tequila, johnny is nowhere to be found.

“hey, i like your jacket, do you come here often?” a deep voice makes your head turn, your tail slowly moving to hide between your legs. “no… thank you” the guy smiles at your answer, he is nice, he talks about his job, asks about what you are doing there, how is the night going, normal small talk. until he buys you a drink. before you can even touch the cold glass in the bar a familiar voice makes you stop, that voice, that tone. “leave it” simon has said that many times, it’s a simple command, to let go of whatever you are holding onto, your hand jerks back.

his hand pats the side of his thigh twice, still staring at the guy trying to flirt with you. “he ain’t friendly, you should always ask owners before trying to pet dogs” one of simons big hands grabs the end of your belt and drag you out of the bar, he thinks seriously about making you wear a leash next time, or not going out at all.

“stay, sit” your knees drop to the ground, he stands tall besides his truck. “you called me a dog” you mumble out, it makes him raise a brow. “you were acting like one, no good puppy, no good pet when you wag your tail at anyone that gives ya’ attention” you shake your head, you weren’t wagging your tail at that guy, never, but before you can speak simon grabs your jaw, his fingers digging into your soft cheeks. “i didn’t say speak, forget about making your own decisions, it seems like you can’t take good ones, is that why they gave you to me, so you can be handled”

[callsigneepy]

|nsfw 18+ | age gap, drunk sex

older roommate könig who the first time that he sees you enter the apartment his brain blue screens and has to remind himself to act like a normal human. he helps you with the boxes, doesn't talk much, is glad that he was still wearing his mask so you didn't have to see you blush. he was weird, yes, but rent was cheap and the place was close to your campus.

könig keeps a good distance with you, staring behind his mask, talking very little, asking enough, noticing. he knows which snacks you like and how high or low he has to put the temperature, he knows when you do your laundry and when you need someone to rant to, he is there, nodding as he fidgets with the pillow that rests over his lap.

könig who comes home late after a long workout, taking off his mask after closing the door, freezing when he hears a small gasp from the couch, you sit there staring at his face, sharp angles jaw, tall nose, buzz dirty blonde hair, a few scars all over, his cheeks go pink. "i thought you'd be asleep by now" his voice comes a bit higher than usual. "i was waiting for you... i couldn't sleep" you say back, still looking at his face, he truly is breath taking. "i'll make some tea" he says before rushing to the kitchen to die in silence.

a few months go by, könig still prefers to wear the mask around the house, sometimes you ask if he can take it off so you can look at him while you talk, he can't say no to that pretty smile. every time he looks at you blush or giggle at him, he feels guilty, nasty, he hates how he fucks his fist in the bathroom after you touched his arm. he hates how much he stains your panties; he hates how the small of your shampoo gets him hard.

but what he hates the most is that he can hear your soft moans at night, that no matter how much he tries he can't stop his hand from sliding down his sweatpants and take out his leaking length. dreaming of being the one to make you sound so pretty.

so, that night when your friend dropped you off at the apartment after a party, könig gently carries you to your bed, placing a small and soft kiss in your head, getting ready to leave until your hand grabs his. "sleep with me" you whisper, and he can't say no. his body makes the bed sink, too big for your twin sized bed. your body lays over his, your face on his chest, your legs on each side of his thigh, you can feel him poke your thigh, his uneven breaths, his big hand on your lower back. he is getting hard by just the smell of your hair, by feeling your body so close to his. "i need you" you whisper close to his jaw, and he gives in, flipping you over without effort, his big body caging you in, the bed creaks. his bulky hands rip apart your shirt, his lips crashing into yours as he moans your name. he is gentle, slow, stretches you out with his fingers, wats you out, tires you, but never puts his dick in. "i want you to be sober for that, ja?" he whispers into your ear, his leaking tip resting on your stomach.

after that night and a long talk in the morning könig becomes your personal stress relieve, taking the worries out of you with his big dick and soft kisses

[callsigneepy]

dog hybrid k9 reader with handler simon.

simon who didn't want to take you because he isn’t used to working with k9s. he prefers to be deep in the field, focused on his own thing more than having to bark orders to a dog. until he was told you couldn't be tamed, that makes him raise a brow.

it doesn't take him long to understand what's going on, your last handler retired, you felt abandoned, you barked and bite. simon didn't flinch, didn't pull back in pain as your fangs dig into the black fabric of his glove. his hand holds your jaw to take a good look at you.

in less than a month simon has you walking behind him like a good dog, listening to commands like you used to, his big hands cupping your face to give you small pats. "good doggy, treat" he mumbles as he crouches in front of you, taking a small treat from his tactical belt and feeding it to you, your mouth covered in blood from the guy you neutrilized.

simon gets a small rush of adrenaline everytime you two go out to the field, feeling you yank at the leash, your vest keeping you from running into whatever you are sniffing for. he loves the way you run back to him, sit on the floor between his legs on meetings, how your head rests on his thigh and look up at him begging for pets, how you whine and paw at him when you wrestle, the way your tail wags when the misison is over and he whispers small praises in your ear. he was your handler now.