POV: Your overfull, tipsy pup squeezes into your lap, their work shirt straining over a belly that’s getting harder to hide with each company dinner, and expects you to take care of it like always.
The door opens a little too slowly, like your pup had to lean against it for a second before making their way inside. They stumble in with a soft little giggle, cheeks warm, eyes a bit glassy. Definitely tipsy. “Mmm…hi” they hiccup, drifting towards you automatically.
Their button-up is not cooperating tonight. Pulled snug across their middle, fabric stretched tight over a very obvious, very swollen belly. One hand keeps absently pressing against it, like they’re still trying to process just how much they overate.
A small, airy burp slips out mid-step and they pause, blinking…then they just smile, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. “they wouldn’t stop offering me stuff,” they mumble, a little dazed, a little pleased.
Before you can even respond, they’re already climbing into your lap, a little clumsy about it, settling down to straddle you with a soft huff. Their weight sinks in, warm and heavy, their belly pressing right up against you through their tight shirt.
Another burp escapes, louder this time. They don’t apologize. Instead, they just lean in closer, resting their head against your shoulder like they belong there. “Mm…I don’t wanna stand,” they mumble. “M soo full” they belch before tapering off to soft hiccups.
You can feel how firm their tummy is where it presses into you, how there’s almost no give. Your hands hover for half a second before your pup grabs them, guiding them to their swollen tummy with zero hesitation. “Here,” they murmur, already pushing your palms into their belly. “Fix it…”
You let out a soft, amused hum from you as your hands start moving. “Fix it? It seems my puppy’s feeling bossy tonight” you tease.
They whine quietly, shifting just to press closer. “I’m serious” they start, before, another burp cuts them off. They huff, pouty now, still melting under your touch. “Feels like I’ve got no space” they groan.
Your thumb brushes over one of the strained buttons, and you pause there deliberately. “Keep eating like this at those company dinners of yours,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, “and you’re gonna pop a button one of these nights, sweetheart.”
They go still for a second… then give the tiniest, most unapologetic smile. “Mmm… not my fault,” they mumble. You raise a brow. “Oh?”
They nuzzle into you, chasing your hands as they keep moving. “I’m new…” they murmur, like that explains everything. “I can’t say no… they hand me stuff and just…I have to eat it” they murmur.
Another soft burp slips out and they barely react this time, just relaxing more into you. “So you just accept that rule and eat all of it?” you tease. They give a slow, tipsy nod against your shoulder. “Mhm, it’s free food”. They mumble.
“And then come home like this?” your hand presses lightly over their full tummy for emphasis. They let out a soft, needy sound, leaning into it. “mhm…”
You laugh under your breath, shaking your head “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna lose a button at this rate.” They don’t argue. Don’t even pretend to care.
If anything, they press closer, guiding your hands again like you might stop. “Keep going…” they whine, softer now, clingy again. “Feels better when you do it”
Another quiet burp follows, and they just melt further into your lap, warm, heavy, and completely used to ending their nights exactly like this.
You keep your hands moving in slow, absent circles, feeling how they sink into you more with every pass, how easily they settle in your lap now without a second thought. It’s becoming a pattern. The dinners, the fullness, the way they end up right here, needy and pressed close like this.
And, honestly…you’re not exactly complaining.
