#AND IT DOESN’T COUNT if your dog is ON leash but you let go of the fucking leash

[floodpool]

6) Your dog may be friendly but wildlife may not be. I knew several dogs who died from rattlesnake bites because they were off leash and their owner couldn’t pull them away. Likewise I knew a couple who got hurt falling off trails or wandering into brambles, etc.

7) Your dog may be friendly, but that doesn’t mean they can’t or won’t hurt someone on accident. I used to work with dogs, and 90% of the injuries (yes even the serious ones) were from dogs who didn’t mean any harm. Anything from scratches from dogs who needed a nail trim to being tripped and nearly dragged into traffic by big dogs with poor leash manners (because their owner never leash trained them).

Everyone else talked about outdoor cats, it's time for me to talk about offleash dogs

[ragingbookdragon]

Arrowheads and Rose Rocks

Tyler Owens x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Glen Powell, Glen Powell, Glen--

**********************************************************************

“I think that’s enough data for one day,” Tyler said as he began to pack up his equipment. “Got a good start to the season.”

Kate stood beside him, watching as the others gathered their gear, and did a mental headcount. “Uh…Tyler?” she asked, and he hummed, not looking up at her. “I think we’re missing one.”

He suddenly looked up, counting himself, then he shut his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “She’s like a kid finding a toy store. Boone!”

Boone stuck his head out the other side of the truck. “I didn’t do it.”

“She wandered again.”

Boone looked around. “Nu uh! She’s been beside me the enti…oh…”

Kate looked between them. “I’m so confused.”

“Tyler’s girlfriend likes to wander when you take your eyes off her,” Boone answered. “Kinda like a dog when you take it off the leash.”

“Don’t call her a dog,” Tyler chastised as he walked past. “Did anyone see her?”

Ben looked over at an expanse of trees. “I do believe she walked off towards the forest over there.”

Tyler rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everyone keep packing.”

As he walked off, Kate leaned by the window and asked Boone, “So, she wanders around a lot? She get bored fast?”

“Oh yeah,” Boone snorted. “She’s a lot like a crow. When she sees something shiny, she’s going to take off after it.” He popped a piece of beef jerky into his mouth and chewed. “Notorious for finding shit though. Never seen her come back empty handed.”

“Huh…didn’t know that.”

Tyler trudged through low hanging branches and bushes knee high until he found boot prints following the path of a stream. He walked along, enjoying the peace and quiet, then he caught sight of her bent over a part of the stream, digging around in the mud. He tipped his head, watching her for a moment, then cleared his throat, watching with a smile as her shoulders jumped.

“Find anything cool?” he asked, and she lifted up something above her head.

“Arrowheads.” She dug around a few more times. “Some rose rocks.”

He walked over and crouched beside her. “Didn’t stay to gather data?”

“Got bored,” she answered and cleaned one of the arrowheads off in the water before she turned slightly, and wiped it on his jeans, then she put it in his hand.

Tyler flipped it over. About the size of his thumb, white in color, serrated edges. “Good find.”

“Found a few of them. Put ‘em in my backpack.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “You mad at me?”

“Nope.”

“You are.”

Tyler nudged her. “Why you mad at me? What’d I do?”

She hummed low in her throat. “Remember how you promised me last year we’d go to the Ritz for our anniversary?”

“Yeah?” he said, brows furrowing, still not understanding.

“Tyler?”

“What?”

“Wanna take a stab at what day today is?” she offered and immediately his eyes went wide.

"It sure as hell isn't our anniversary." He fumbled for his phone. “Our anniversary isn’t until—” he thumbed into the calendar and then pursed his lips. “Ah…shit,” he muttered. “Baby, I swear I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted and stood up from the dirt.

He quickly stood up too, dropping the arrowhead into his shirt pocket. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yep,” she nodded, and he frowned.

“I will. I’ll make dinner a-and I’ll get us some good wine, and we’ll listen to some George Strait and dance, and I’ll run you a bath, and give you a completely non-sexual massage, and then—” he trailed off when he saw the annoyed but fond look on her face. “Baby,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tyler,” she nodded.

“No, it’s not,” he sighed. “I made a promise last year and…I couldn’t keep it.”

She shrugged. “We’re doing decent work up here. Takes precedent.”

Tyler wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him. “No, it doesn’t.” he nuzzled her neck. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

With a sigh, she patted his back. “C’mon, big boy, the others are probably waiting.”

He let out a noise in his throat, refusing to let her go. “Stop being mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” she snorted.

“You’re mad,” he groaned. “I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.”

“Tyler, I’m not mad,” she laughed, poking at his back. “C’mon, let go so we can go back.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“Or what? We’ll spend forever locked here in this little forest?”

“Yes.”

She sighed wistfully. “Well, I don’t think I’d mind all that much.” She pulled back enough to see his face. “I love you.”

“Mmm…mean it.”

Rolling her eyes, she reached up and took his face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks together as she promised, “I love you, Tyler Owens. Even if you forget our anniversary to chase tornadoes.”

He hummed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you, pretty girl.” He took her hand and started leading her back to the others.

“Y’know…there is one way you can make it up to me.”

“Do tell, pretty girl.”

“Could always go for a good strip tease.”

Tyler snorted, looking back at her. “That’s all I’m good for to you, ain’t it? Strip teases and thrills.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty good in the sack too.”

He turned, winding his arms around her and dipping his hands into her back pockets. “Be careful or we won’t get out of this forest for a completely different reason.”

“You and I are too old to be doing that out here,” she snorted and yelped when he squeezed her butt.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve still got it. I’m in my prime you know.”

“With knees that pop every morning when you get out of the bed? Prime, my ass.”

“At least I don’t complain about my back every morning,” he shot back with a grin.

“Hey, my back hurts because of you,” she teased, poking his stomach. “Now seriously, let’s get back before they send out a search party.”

“Heaven forbid,” Tyler gasped dramatically, and she rolled her eyes.

As they walked, she murmured, “I love you.”

He looked over at her and squeezed her hand and smiled warmly at her. “I love you, pretty girl. More than you’ll ever know.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah? You feeling it?”

Tyler grinned. “And I’m chasin’ it too.”

[pfhwrittes]

taking a leaf out of @syoddeye’s book and talking about divorced versions of the 141 under the cut.

(pass me the emergency cigarette 🚬)

trigger warnings: controlling financial behaviour/financial abuse, stalking, referenced off screen masturbation, religion/catholicism, implied blowjob (johnny receiving), noncon.

pairings: john price x gender neutral reader, simon “ghost” riley x gender neutral reader, john “soap” mactavish x gender neutral reader, kyle “gaz” garrick x gender neutral reader.

a little unedited drabble typed up on my phone for you all 💜

18+ only please and thank you due to suggestive content below the cut!

look, sy said it best with their posts when it comes to ex-husband john price.

he’ll let you stretch out your leash, let you go running into the arms of another person if he has to, but remember sweetheart — he made vows to do right by you and he plans on keeping them.

monthly maintenance payments, paid in a hand delivered envelope of cash, are a regular occurrence. every third thursday of the month he darkens your doorstep. the envelope is fat with five pound notes and he takes great pleasure in making you count it all out in front of him every time.

he also doesn’t tell you that he still has access to the online portals where you he pays your electric and water bill. silly thing, he understands divorce is hard but really you should’ve noticed that you haven’t received a bill from them in years. however, if he spots that wet blanket you call your new partner sniffing around again he’ll happily let you freeze…

simon riley swore until “death does you part” and he means it.

you can move addresses, change your number, delete and remake your social media presence under a new name as many times as you like but while there’s still breath in his body and grave dirt under his nails, you are his.

don’t fight him, you were the first soft perfect beautiful good thing in his life and like a dog on a scent he will always find you.

your new place is nice, love, but you really should get them locks looked at. did he mention that he loves the new underwear you bought? no? that’s alright he’ll leave you a token of his appreciation spattered on the soft material of the gusset for you to find later…

johnny mactavish was married under the eyes of God, and what God has brought together let no man tear asunder. what’s that hen? you married him in a different ceremony? aye, he knows. you married him in a different ceremony. he married you as a Catholic.

don’t worry bonnie thing, he’ll let you atone for your numerous sins. start with some Hail Marys on your knees and don’t even think about moving your hands from the zip on his jeans. if you’re good he’ll let you take Communion. if you’re bad, well, you know what they say about washing the mouths of sinners out with soap…

kyle garrick makes your divorce proceedings as easy and as amicable as possible. he doesn’t accuse you of finding love elsewhere, he doesn’t beg to stay in the housing on base the two of you share. in fact as soon as he’s presented with the no-fault paperwork he signs and moves out that day with a lingering kiss to your cheek and a murmur in you ear that he’ll come to you immediately if you need anything, babe.

what you don’t know is that eight weeks before you got up the guts to ask for a divorce, he spotted your search history on the clever bit of kit he installed on your phone and put in a request to dissolve your housing agreement.

times ticking babe, even though you don’t know it, you’ve only got four weeks left on your tenancy and twenty weeks until proceedings start. don’t worry, he knows there’s no hard feelings. he even put your favourite sheets on the bed in his new flat off base — where he plans on keeping you until that silly idea of a divorce has leaked out of your ears under all the affection he plans on smothering you with…

[channiesbakery]

doggy play date —

prompt / request — "that's not even your dog.”

pairing — reader + non idol!dokyeom

word count — 882

genre — fluff

you were a regular at the cafe seokmin worked at. he’s had a crush on you ever since you came in for the first time months ago.

today, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out. except he made a teeny tiny mistake of asking you out on a play date for your dogs instead of a date with just you.

another mistake? he doesn’t even own a dog.

“can i borrow latte?” seokmin asks soonyoung the minute he walks into his friend’s apartment. “my… dog?” soonyoung questions, unsure if he’d heard the question correctly.

“no, your cup of coffee. yes your dog!” seokmin exclaims sarcastically. “but why?” soonyoung furrows his eyebrows.

“i may or may not have set up a date with a girl i met at a cafe,” he starts to explain. “good for you man,” soonyoung grins, patting his shoulder.

“except it’s less of a date for us and more of a play date for our dogs,” seokmin finishes as soonyoung just stares at him blankly.

“so you set up a date for your nonexistent dog,” soonyoung repeats. “i know i sound insane–” seokmin starts. “I’m surprised you didn’t go buy a dog,” soonyoung says.

“can i borrow latte or not?” he sighs. “if it’ll help your love life,” soonyoung smirks a little. “but you owe me big time.” he adds.

a couple days later, you meet at the dog park, letting your dogs get acquainted while you and seokmin sat on the bench, starting to get to know each other.

you start talking about your dogs, asking him questions about latte: when he got her, why’d he choose the name latte, etc.

seokmin felt like he was sweating, trying to come up with lies to answer your questions. he felt bad for lying but he wanted to go out with you so bad that the only way he thought of bonding over you was your pets. well, your real pet and his borrowed dog.

the entire time you chatted, his brain was screaming “that’s not even your dog!!!” at him but he didn’t want to confess his stupid lie just yet.

“hey, a new cafe opened close by if you want to get a quick bite? i hear they have some dog friendly treats so our pups can have something too,” you suggest.

“that sounds like a great idea,” he agrees with a smile.

you walk to the cafe, both of your dogs walking ahead of you on their leashes. your hand brushes against his a few times and seokmin fights the urge to intertwine your fingers.

even after spending nearly two hours at the cafe, neither of you were ready to part just yet.

“you’ve got to be one of the most charming guys I’ve ever gone out with,” you laugh as you walk along the sidewalk, not really having a destination in mind.

“oh so this is a date? i thought this was just a play date for our dogs?” he teases. “you saying you don’t want this to be a date?” you gasp. “no i definitely like the idea of this being a date,” he smiles.

“so much that I’m not ready for it to end,” he admits. “well, we’re not too far from my place… how about a drink? i don’t think latte’s ready to say goodbye either,” you nod towards the two dogs walking ahead.

the dogs run off as soon as you take their leashes off in your apartment while you lead seokmin to your living room.

he takes a seat on your couch while you step into the kitchen to grab two beers.

your conversations continue naturally, your topics going all over the place. neither of you notice it but you keep moving closer to each other.

seokmin brushes a stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. his eyes glance down at your lips before you lean in, waiting for him to close the gap.

his lips move softly against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he hears a bark from the other room, he suddenly remembers what led to his current position.

“okay i really need to confess something before this goes any further,” seokmin sighs, pulling away from your lips.

“uh oh. are you gonna tell me you’re a serial killer?” you tease. “okay it’s not that bad,” he chuckles. “so what’s the confession?” you hum.

“latte isn’t exactly… mine,” he says and you’re silent for a second. “oh my god, you kidnapped a dog? that might be worse than a serial killer,” you gasp.

“what? no! no, no! i didn’t kidnap her, I’m just borrowing her!” he quickly exclaims. “i’ve kinda had a crush on you for months and i fucked up when i asked you out only to make it a play date for our dogs,” he explains sheepishly.

“except you don’t have a dog, apparently,” you say, clearly amused with the situation. “i know, i know. i fucked up,” he sighs.

“it’s okay, i forgive you,” you hum, leaning in close again. “i kinda have a crush on you too. besides, you kidnapped a dog just to take me out on a date,” you tease, kissing him as he groans.

“i didn’t kidnap her!”

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter One: New Places, New Faces

Ao3 | Next

MDNI

Pairing: Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

Johnny stirs awake with a grunt as Riley’s wet nose bumps against his hand. There’s a very slight ache behind his eyes - the kind that marks an oncoming migraine. He groans, not wanting to open them to the invasive sunlight that will inevitably make it worse. Then again, that’s the only way he can get any preemptive pain medication in his system. He still makes a noise of complaint when he finally peels back his lids.

“Feelin’ alright?” Simon rumbles, setting a glass on the nightstand along with two little pain pills. How he’s able to tell what kind of morning Johnny’s having before even he can is a true mystery.

Johnny just grunts back, rolling onto his side to grab his hearing aid out of the nightstand drawer. Normally he wouldn’t bother with putting it on with a possibly impending migraine, but he figures he can chance it. They’ve been lessening in the past few months. Somewhat.

“Plans for the day?” Simon asks as he pulls on one of his work shirts. “Up for coming to the shop?”

The little clock beside him blinks out five in the morning. Even after being retired for nearly three years, neither of them can manage to sleep in late whether they have to be up or not. “Gonnae take Riley out tae the park. Might drop by.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Me? Never.” Johnny flashes his husband a grin.

Simon just rolls his eyes in response. The rest of their morning is quiet, as most are when Johnny isn’t up for talking. It’s a comfortable silence, one they both came to appreciate long before this current chapter in their lives. One that developed on cots and in tents and the wreckage of war zones.

It’s just how they are.

Being essentially a stay at home husband was not how Johnny pictures his thirties. Being disabled was not how he pictured… any of it. He thought he’d be up for Lieutenant by now. Thought Simon would have taken over as Captain of the 141. He’s learned not to be bitter about it (with Simon’s and some professional help).

He can’t complain too much. He’s alive. He gets to be with his family. With Simon. With Riley in this run down dog park throwing around a ball that she dutifully chases and brings back with the pride of a great hunter bringing home a prized beast. He gets to go home to a place that is truly his, with a big comfortable bed and a man he fought tooth and nail to fill it with.

It’s a small life but he’s learned that small doesn’t mean unimportant.

Christ who knew turning thirty would make him a damn philosopher.

“Alright, lassie, time tae go.” Johnny crouches to shuffle Riley’s harness and leash back on. He knees pop and his back protests the movement. It’s a mercy that they were able to get such a lovely service dog. She’s such a good pup, always at the ready and happy to obey.

Except now, as she begins to tug insistently at her leash with her full weight - or at least as much as she can use without hurting him. It isn’t like her. He clicks and commands her to heel. She tugs harder and whines. It isn’t an alert that he knows - maybe it’s one that they don’t need often? He lets go of the leash, following as she quickly jogs away.

He circles a few bushes in pursuit, coming to face one of the large trees on the outer edge of the park. There’s a girl leaned on it, breath coming in and out heavy. She starts to slip forward a bit before Riley props her up, stabalizing the girl in much the same way she does Johnny when he gets faint. He speeds up his steps, holding out his hands on either side of the girl in case she falls.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” She coos at Riley quietly. American. Huh. He watches the girl dig in her pocket for something, eventually pulling out what looks like a to-go salt packet. She tears it open, throwing it back like a shot.

“Ye a’right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head.

She nods and takes a long, deep breath. “Sorry, I have a…thing.” She waves her hand around her head, straightening up and turning to face him. She’s cute. Insanely cute - with big eyes and soft body. Lovely curves from head to toe. Johnny may be a married man but that doesn’t mean he can’t apprecaite a little, right?

“Donnae apologize. I’ve got a thing, tae.” Johnny grins and points to the scar on his head where his hair never quite grew back.

She gives him a soft smile. “Well, you’ve got a good dog. I’ve never had one alert like that.”

“Aye, she was tuggin’ hard. Must’ve been a pretty bad spell. Ye sure yer okay?”

“Yeah.” Her braided hair falls about her shoulders. “Just didn’t eat enough before I went for a walk and then I stood up too quickly…”

“Och, standin’, my age old enemy.”

She giggles quietly, pressing her fingers over her lips to cover them. It’s pretty, the way her round face gets even rounder with her smile.

“Johnny.” He holds out a hand, flashing his most charming smile he can muster. It’s a little more tired these days - the corners of his eyes crinkle more than they used to. The girl takes his hand, so soft and warm and small in his, and breathes out her name quietly. Almost bashfully. So cute.

Unfortunately his phone chimes, interrupting the moment before he can ask her more.

“I should be off, ye sure yer okay?” Johnny lets his eyes take over her, not just her body but also checking that she is, in fact, okay. Her eyes seem clear, stance steady, not too pale or too flushed. He’s no medic but he’d say she’s going to be fine.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.” She crouches slightly, slowly moving to look at Riley. “And thank *you* ma’am.”

Johnny watches her walk away, pausing to make sure she doesn’t stumble. He’s not sure what compels him - maybe it’s the solider in him still wanting to watch for the safety of those around him. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the way her wide hips sway as she makes her way down the path.

Johnny can’t stop smiling as he makes his way to the shop for some reason. It wasn’t even all that impressive of an interaction, but something about it really warmed his heart. Maybe it was just meeting someone else with a *thing*, as she put it. There really isn’t anyone else in his life who needs as much support as him - certainly not many adults in this small town who need assistance on the whole. It’s rare to meet someone who gets it, however briefly.

“Wot’s got you so chipper?” Simon quirks an eyebrow as he enters.

The door bell chimes above his head. Riley trots off from Johnny’s side to her designated bed in the corner of the shop. Away from the food but close enough that she could easily get wherever Johnny might be. One of the regulars even made a plaque for her that his Da screwed on the wall.

“Met a nice lass today in the park.” He shrugs. “Pretty little thing.”

“Ah, your great-aunt’s prayin’ finally do you in?” Simon chuckles as Johnny ducks behind the counter to rest a hand on the small of his back.

“Aye, finally realized I should turn tae a life of lassies an’ biarns. Yer great arse has no power over me now, foul demon.”

Simon chuckles. There’s something about it that always does Johnny in. A low rumble he can feel in his very bones. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”

Johnny hums. “The warm weather helps, fer whatever reason.”

“Good. You see the shop across the street?”

Johnny turns, looking out their front window. The construction has been going on for a few months - various workers milling in and out. Neither he nor Simon could figure out what they were putting in until small signs were put across the windows announcing the new location to be The Honey Bun Bakery with an opening date at the bottom. A bit cutesy for their taste, but a new bakery in town is exciting. The last one closed because the owners got too old and had no one to take over. His mother has been buzzing about it since the signs were first put up.

The biggest mystery is the owner. No one has seen hide nor hair of whoever owns the place. There were movers taking things into the attached apartment on the floor above about a week ago, but no one has actually seen the resident. He or she is a ghost. Gossip has filled the town, of course. Especially among the older folks. That’s another thing his mother has been fluttering about.

“Already opening day, eh?”

“Yep.”

“We should check it out, then.”

Simon hums. “We’ll go after the morning rush if you’re up for it, hm?”

“Aye.”

“Johnny?” The shorter man jumps as Simon’s hands rest on his waist. He’ll never get over the intensity of Simon’s eyes. For a man who keeps his emotions locked in the deepest parts of him, he sure carries a lot of it in those pretty dark pools.

“Aye?” The word comes out breathier than he means it to.

“You look sunburnt.”

Johnny barks out a laugh, half-heartedly shoving his husband off. “An’ here I thought ye were gonnae say somethin’ romantic.”

“You know me better than that.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners with a smile as he pulls the mask to the side, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips.

You may or may not have slept exactly 3.46 hours last night. It’s not your fault, really. Today’s your first day. Your first real day of your new life and your new career. Years of prayers and months upon months of planning, waiting, crying, and straining have finally come to a head. You’re in Scotland, your bakery is constructed, all that’s left is to actually bake.

And sell, of course, but you try your hardest not to think about that part or you might throw up. Again.

You curse the time it takes you to shower, carefully acclimating to the heat of the shower and sitting in your little plastic seat. You want to run, to act like the a whirlwind you feel in your head. You can’t, though, it’s not worth possibly ruining the most important day in your life just because you were impatient and passed out. At least you finally got your medication situation figured out before coming over here - the perfect little cocktail sitting on the corner of your dresser.

Your hands tremble a bit as you open up one of the cardboard boxes still sitting in your living room. You’d picked out a special outfit for your first real day of owning your own business months ago - one you made sure would be here with you on opening day. Really, it isn’t anything special - just a pair of black gingham trousers and a black cotton t-shirt along with your well-loved non-slip shoes. It’s yours though, and it perfectly matches your specially embroidered apron with your little logo on the front, center pocket. It’s yours. All yours. It’s a reminder that you’re here. You made it out.

You had already done a good bit of the work the day before - putting together your doughs and shaping up pastries to proof overnight in the fridge. Now all that’s left is to actually bake them and put them out. The smell wafts through the building, covering any left over scents of paint or construction work. It feels real. Grounding. You’re here and you can feel, smell, even taste it.

You expected a few customers. Not much. High hopes and low expectations. Just a couple people here and there that noticed the new shop coming to town and were curious about it. You’d advertised as well as you could from across the pond. Maybe a little rush around the late morning when people are usually out for brunch and shopping at most.

You did not expect a constant stream from the moment you propped the door open until the late afternoon. These Scots run you fucking ragged. A constant flux of in and out, all day. All them wanting to chat, as well.

“Oh, American! Whit part are ye from?”

“Yer sae young! Just a wee bairn!”

“So nice havin’ a bakery again, aye?”

“Urr ye merrit? Ah hae a son-“

You regret not buying that coffee machine for the back room.

Just as you’re stacking display baskets to take to the back to wash up the door chimes behind you. Here you thought you were finally done for the day. You sigh. “Sorry, hun, I’m pretty much out of everyth-”

“Ye!” You whirl, only to meet those same bright blue eyes from the day before.

“Johnny!” You squeak, eyes wide.

“Why dinnae ye mention the shop?” The man grins wide - the same as the day before. Sparkling and bright and far, far more pretty than you’re prepared to deal with. His hair is neater today - not ragged from exercise with his service dog who currently sits politely by his feet.

“Ah, was little light headed. Wasn’t thinking straight.” You shrug.

“Speaking of, how’s yer thing?” He waves a hand about his head the same way you did the day prior. It’s cute how invested he seems to be, genuinely asking if you’re alright. The man looming behind him watches silently.

“Oh, I’m alright. Finer than the hair on a toad split four ways.” You grin.

The man behind him furrows his brow slightly at the expression, but doesn’t offer a word. He’s tall. Wide too and dressed in all black with long sleeves despite the warm, spring weather. His hair is buzzed neatly. There’s a severity to him only emphasized by the scar splitting his brow and the small chip missing from his ear.

“Och, this is my husband Simon.” Jihnny steps to the side and gestures toward the brooding figure behind him. “We own the butcher shop across the street.”

“No shit!” You can’t help but smile ear to ear, holding out your hand. They seem so sweet. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Glad to have such nice neighbors.”

Simon shakes your hand a single time curtly before stepping back behind Johnny. The severity in his dark eyes softens whenever he glances toward the other man. Cute.

“We wanted tae come see whit ye’ve got.”

“I haven’t got much left…” You tap your chin and rest a hand on your hip, wanting to rectify the dip of disappointment in the pretty man’s brow. “Oh! I’ve got a sourdough in the back. One sec!”

You skitter off, paying little mind to how silly you must look practically prancing toward the back room. Originally, you’d planned to save this for yourself tonight as a job-well-done treat but it feels more gratifying to give it to your new neighbors. Hopefully they like it - maybe you can finally make some friends for the first time in… ever really.

“How much fer it?”

“On the house. We’re neighbors now, yeah? First ones free.” You grin, wrapping it extra nicely in some brown paper packaging.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” Johnny cradles the loaf so carefully you almost laugh - as if he’s afraid too much pressure will completely ruin it. Like he’s holding a precious treasure. “We’ll leave ye alone tae close but we’ll see ye around, aye?”

“Course.” You nod, waving after them and they exit. You can see the big blonde, Simon, turn to Johnny to say something but it’s impossible to hear them or tell from their lips as they cross the street back to their butcher shop. They link hands, fingers intertwining with long practiced grace, and something in your throat constricts.

What’s it like, you wonder, to have a love like that?

[latenightdaydreams]

i love your content so much omg thank you so much for writing these so frequently and welll!!!!! How about a pt 3 to mafia konig x CEO reader where reader finds out that she’s preggy without konig knowing and is scared he’s going to throw her away bc of her pregnancy. She acts like a sad kicked dog, being on her pink comfy bed curled up and whenever he fucks her she looks like she’s going to cry. When he finally finds out she sobs her eyes out and tries to escape again.

💗💗Thank you!

Mafia!König x CEO Part 3 (fem)

Part 1, Part 2

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, p in v, pregnancy, choking

1.7k word count

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It’s been four months since you’ve become König’s ‘pet’; three months since your last period. König hasn’t noticed, when he’s with you he doesn’t think about your cycle. He only cares if you’ve eaten and if he can fuck you.

You sit on your little pink dog bed in his office with your collar attached by a chain to the wall behind you. König had to leave for a meeting, leaving you alone in his office. The chain is so short that you can’t move around if you wanted to. Even your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you to simply sit on your pink dog bed and wait.

While you wait for him to return, you think about different ways you could possibly escape before he finds out. The fear of him knowing and getting rid of you like trash is forefront in your mind. You don’t only have to worry about your own life, but now the life of this life is developing inside of you. While you doubt you can be a mother to it, you still find yourself oddly attached. In this trauma, it’s as if you have something to hold on to.

The office door swings open and König stomps angrily. His eyes land on you and he smiles softly under his sniper hood. Seeing you waiting there for him like a good little pet always brightens his mood. He closes and locks the door behind him, walking over to you.

König kneels in front of you, petting your head gently with his gloved hand as he tilts his head. “I’ve missed you, Maus.” His hand drifts down to your jaw, grabbing it and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Have you missed me?”

“Yes.” You say but it just comes out as more of a muffle with the gag.

“Good girl.”

König stands again and unlocks the chain that kept you to the wall, using it as a leash to walk you to his desk. He sits down on the strong wooden desk and looks down at you as you remain on all fours before him. His eyes travel up and down your naked body before tugging on your leash.

“Stand up.” He holds one hand out to assist you.

You look at his hand before accepting the help and standing you. König looks at your body, taking his time to linger on your breasts and abdomen. A small panic sets in as you wonder if he’s noticed any change in your body. Looking down at yourself, it doesn’t seem like there are any obvious signs of pregnancy just yet.

“Schön.” He speaks under his breath as he pulls his gloves off followed by his mask. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today. I hate being busy.”

Your mouth relaxes as he takes the gag off of you, allowing you to feel slightly more comfortable. His pale blue eyes linger on your face for a while before leaning in to kiss you; his lips clashing against yours with an undeniable hunger for you. He allows his hands to travel over your body, cupping your breasts and twirling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as his tongue swirls around yours.

König gentle turns, switching spots with you so that you’re leaned up against the desk. Mentally, you’re trying your best to stay in the moment but you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re pregnant and stuck here with a dog collar on. Stuck here with a man that just might kill the both of you. While König has shown a soft side, he has also shown how incredibly heartless he can be.

He lets his hands drift down your body to your thighs and lifts you on to the desk. When he pulls back from the kiss, he begins to undress himself. You look down at his erection as his pants fall to the floor making König’s lips pull into a cocky grin. He knows that no matter how much you try to deny it, you find him attractive- even if only deep down inside.

“Spread your legs open for me. Be a good pet.”

You lean back and grab behind your knees, parting your legs wide for him. His eyes lock on to your pussy, reaching out to slip one finger between your folds and circling your clit. He steps closer, pulling that hand away and spitting in his palm to lubricate his dick.

“What do you say?” His blue eyes lock on yours as you feel his thick cock rub your slit.

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“Good girl.”

König thrusts forward into you. The same little breathless moan he makes leaves him as his eyes close for a moment to fully enjoy the sensation of your gummy walls around him. His hips rock back and forth slowly until his eyes open again. He grabs your waist, making you flinch, but he ignores it. His mind is too clouded with the sensation of pleasure to notice your small hints of discomfort.

The rhythmic sound of his hips bucking against your supple jiggling ass echoes in the room. Your walls clench around his girth as you squirm on the desk beneath him, your eyebrows pinched together with a small frown. His eyes watch as his cock pumps in and out of you, your wet cunt leaving behind a thick ring of creamy white arousal on the base of his cock. One of his hands slips up your body, slapping your breasts before wrapping around your neck.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, his grip slowly gets tighter and tighter. You take deep breaths trying to not make him angry but asking him to stop. The thought of what if he kills you runs through your mind as his grip gets more intense. Underneath his breath he praises your body in German, not paying attention to how oxygen deprived you are. Finally, you grab his arms and squeeze it, begging for relief.

König doesn’t argue, lessening his grip on you and leaning down to kiss your neck. Your head turns to the side as your mind falls away to the gravity of the situation that you find yourself in. Unable to control yourself a silent tear rolls down your face. Still, you try your hardest to hold back your emotions; taking a deep shaky breath to try and calm down.

“Fuck, Maus. Your pussy is so good.” His thrust loses their rhythm, high pitched moans accompanying his words. “Beg for my cum.”

When he looks at your face, he notices the shiny tear streak and the look of emotional torment in his eyes. Just wanting to cum he looks down again and listens to your voice fake arousal and beg for him to cum inside of you. His balls tighten as he holds your shoulders to shove himself fully inside of you. As his cock throbs, coating your walls in his thick sticky cum.

After lingering for a moment, he pulls out and just looks at you. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he shifts his weight and lets out a huff. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a no bullshit tone.

“Nothing.” You say unconvincingly.

“Don’t lie to me.” His arms cross over his board chest.

“I’m not.”

“Down.” He snaps his fingers for you like you would a dog for you to kneel.

You sit up and hop off his desk, getting on the floor and kneeling before him. He walks closer to you and looks down at your disappointment that you think you can lie to him. A thick silence lingers in the air between you both before he speaks up again.

“Every time I touch you lately it’s like you’re about to cry. I know I’m not your favorite person, Maus, but I know you love my cock. Why are you crying now?”

You look up at him, not saying a word still as you mentally jump through hoops.

“Tell me what is wrong or else you’re sleeping with that muzzle on.”

Tears burn your eyes as he knows how much the gag hurts your jaw when he has you wear it all day, the thought of sleeping with it on causes an instant reaction from you. Still, you remain silent. Your heart sinks as you watch him walk over to your muzzle and strap it back on you.

Two weeks have passed since the situation and he’s dropped it. So, you thought. When you wake up this morning you see König standing by the bed looking down at you with a small box in his hand. You rub your eyes and sit up, focusing on what he’s holding.

“You’re taking one.” König says, in his hand a box of pregnancy tests.

As you sit on the toilet and pee on the stick, König stands there watching to make sure you don’t try to hide anything. Your hand shakes as you hold the test. His mask is on so you can’t see the expression he has underneath. Once done, he snatches the test from you and steps back to let you clean yourself up.

Pregnant. Just as he suspected. Underneath his mask he smiles. He’s always wanted a family, but has never been able to keep a woman. Yet here you are, already giving him a family. Before he can react, you begin to sob.

You collapse onto the tile of the bathroom floor as a waterfall pours from your eyes. König looks bewildered, not expecting such a strong emotional response from a usually strong woman. He steps forward cautiously as if he isn’t trying to scare you. He kneels down next to you and reaches out to caress your back.

“Don’t cry.” He says awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you. “I can get you food. Would you like that? Maybe you can stay in the big bed?”

You gaze up at him and nod. König stands and looks at how small and helpless you seem on the floor. It hurts his heart, but he also loves knowing that you’re really trapped now.

“I’ll be back.” He stands and leaves the room, locking the door from the outside.

You continue to sob until you realize that he’s just left you alone in the room without being chained to the wall. In a hurry, you jump up and begin looking through every and any drawer you can open. Inside of the desk you find files held together with paper clips. Quickly, you grab two and hide them under the bed. Your heart thumps in your chest as a light of hope comes to you again.

[gojo-mochi]

CW: Afab!reader, Bit of Degradation, Reader is called puppy.

Thinkin about riding Zoro while he’s doing bench presses. His sweatpants just pulled down enough for his cock spring out. He’s mean about it though, punishing you for distracting him during his workout.

So he doesn’t put his cock in, he just makes you give him a pussyjob. Sliding your slick folds up and down his hard cock while he does his reps. He doesn’t need both arms to hold up the bars, so anytime you try to even get the tip in, he lets go of one arm and smack your ass harshly.

“Zorooooo, please I need you.”

Zoro grunts and reset his rep, starting from one again. “Quiet down, puppy. You made me lose my count.” You whine at his harsh tone, nails digging in the outer side of his thighs as you continued to make a mess of his cock, your juices spilling down to his inner thigh.

“Makin a fucking filthy mess on me, aren’t cha? A needy puppy..” He growls, “Gonna have to teach you how to behave again. Humping me like you’re in heat while I’m working out, tch” he bucks up his hips, making you bounce a bit on his cock, “Maybe I should just shove a toy in ya and leashed you to the pole. Make you wait until I’m done.”

You shake your head, thighs shaking at the constant workout you were doing and the throbbing need in your core. Zoro placed the barbell back on the bar and leans up, manhandling you off his lap and bending you over on one of the other machines. A hand gripping the back of your neck as he fully thrust himself into your willing and wet cunt.

“Maybe if I breed you like the whiny dog you are, maybe you’ll finally behave huh?”

“You want me to fill you up until you’re walking around with my kin, right puppy?”

[pastel0rchid]

Bad Dog (2)

Shifter!Simon Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Anxious thoughts

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I apologize if this chapter isn't my best work, I'm not too proud of it, but I did like the direction that it's taking. Thank you so much for your patience as I get to feeling better <3

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

It was time to go shopping.

You stand in front of the front door, planted in your spot as you stare at the golden knob. One turn and you’d be greeted with the outside world. In your hands, you grip Ghost’s leash, the rough texture digging into your palm, the slight pain keeping your mind from wandering too far.

You twist and turn the leash between your fingers, the dog it was supposed to be attached to sitting off to your side, watching with a tilted head as you just stand and stare at the door.

What if he was out there? What if he was waiting for the right moment? When you finally had your guard down, would he strike?

Are you letting yourself get too comfortable? Too secure in what you had perceived as safe?

Your shoulders tense up as your grip tightens on the leash, lungs aching with desperate need for air after unconsciously finding yourself holding your breath as you just stare at the door.

A small nudge against your thigh shatters your thoughts, a shaky breath finally filling your lungs with a slight sting. Blinking rapidly, you look down towards Ghost, who had shifted himself closer towards you and nudged you with his snout. His brown eyes stare up at you while his nose remains ever-present against your thigh. A reminder that he was there.

His eyes held an emotion you couldn’t fathom a dog comprehending, the twinge of worry that swirled within them something you had never seen from a canine companion.

His eyes almost looked… human.

Ghost huffs and nudges your thigh again when he doesn’t get a response, the warmth of his breath felt through the pair of jeans you wore.

Right.

You had Ghost now.

Taking another shaky breath to steel your nerves, you give a small nod before beginning to gently attach the leash to the white collar you had gotten for him. You ignore the slight tremor in your hands, the small struggle you had with looping the chain, you ignore it for the better.

“I know,” You mumble softly to Ghost, “I’m being silly, aren’t I? Why be afraid of the boogeyman when I have you to protect me now.”

A small smile appears on your lips as you gently ruffle the fur on top of Ghost’s head, earning another signature huff from him. The wag of his tail though counters the annoyed look he sends you, and you can’t help the small chuckle that escapes you.

It was okay. Everything would be okay.

Ghost was here now.

—

Your hands grip the handle shopping cart, pushing it down the narrow isles with Ghost’s leash looped around your wrist. The canine himself walked as close as he could to your side without tripping you.

It was always so loud in the grocery store, so packed that you felt like you were in a can of sardines. Your eyes flick between the shelves on either side of you, taking in the stock before reaching out and plucking what you need into your cart.

Ghost moved around your legs with a precision you hadn’t expected, never once getting in the way to where you would trip over him or his leash. His ears pointed in alert while he covered whichever side another shopper would pass by, putting himself between you and them with his eyes locked in their direction. 

It was almost like he was assessing whether they were a threat or not.

You begin to wonder if he was trained as a service dog with the way he was acting. The nudges and the perfected circling, it was all so methodical and precise. Maybe he used to be a service dog for a soldier. It made the most sense with how he was doing all of it without being told to.

Continuing your path through the different isles, you feel yourself relaxing more and more in Ghost’s presence, knowing that he was watching out for you in all directions.

“Ah like yer dug.”

A heavily accented voice suddenly speaks up from behind you, the cereal box in your hands almost dropping as you quickly turn to look at the man with widened eyes. The man that stood before you was intimidating, his stature towering over you in a way that flickered unpleasant memories of the past.

His piercing blue eyes stare into your own, a glint of mischief flashing through them as he glances between you and Ghost. The sides of his hair were buzzcut, but the top had been left to grow in a mohawk.

“Ach, sorry, ah didnae mean tae gie ye a fright, lovey.”

His words jumbled together in your mind, reeling from the small fright you had been given as you tried to calm the racing heart in your chest. Your grip on the cereal box loosens ever so slightly before you place it into your cart, your eyes glancing between the stranger and Ghost, only to find the canine’s tail wagging slightly while he looks at the stranger.

Ghost was calm.

It was okay. It would be okay.

“It’s alright,” You respond to him in a soft tone, your voice having a barely noticeable quiver as you look up at him. You didn’t know what to do, having not expected somebody to come up and speak to you with Ghost by your side.

“Whit's yer dog's name?”

Damn, he was really going to try and have a conversation with you.

Gulping down your nerves, you look down at the dog by your side, sitting straight and still beside you with the only movement being his tail slowly wagging. If Ghost wasn’t on high alert, you begin to realize that maybe you shouldn’t either. Taking a small breath, you look back towards the man with a small smile.

“His name’s Ghost.”

“Ghost, eh?”

The name seemed to cause a smirk to tug at the corner of his lips, that same glint of mischief appearing briefly once again.

“It suits him well.”

You give him a nod in response, not knowing how to continue the conversation, watching as the man reaches forward to ruffle the fur on the top of Ghost’s head. A huff is what the stranger receives, a small nudge in return before he pulls his head back, shaking it slightly.

Ghost’s brown eyes finally look back up at you, a deep ‘boof’ resounding from his chest before he nudges his snout against your thigh.

Right, your groceries.

Clearing your throat, you look back at the stranger, observing him for a few more seconds. It was still a little strange how easily Ghost took to him compared to everyone else that passed by, maybe it was because he was the only one to actually try and talk to you. Even then, Ghost’s demeanor had calmed significantly when the stranger talked to you.

The man suddenly holds his hand out towards you, an offering to shake. You stare, reluctant before slowly reaching forward and grabbing his hand in greeting. His hand was warm, encompassing your own as you felt how rough it was. He must do a lot of work with his hands, something labor-heavy.

The man smiles at that, shaking it a bit rougher than he probably intended.

“Ma name's Johnny, it's nice tae meet ye.”

With a small response of ‘likewise,’ you skirt around telling him your name, not feeling the most comfortable with giving it out at the moment. Pulling your hand back against your side, you give Johnny another lookover before turning and pushing your shopping cart away from the conversation before it can continue any longer.

You rush through the rest of your shopping trip, your mind occasionally traveling back to the Scotsman that had come up to you so easily, even with a large wolf-dog at your side. You glance down at the canine as you basically speed-walk towards the check-out area.

Ghost seems less uptight this time as he trots beside you.

—

Dinner had been another quick endeavor.

A simple pasta dish for you and a bowl of meat and veggies for Ghost.

You had triple-checked the locks on your doors and windows, you’re mind still trailing to that man that you had met in the store. Johnny.

He was strange, seeming almost too eager to talk to you about your dog.

Now dressed in a tank top and sleep shorts, you lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you think. Ghost’s head rests against your stomach as he lays beside you. Your hand absentmindedly runs through his dark fur, the motion becoming a comforting habit for you.

Maybe you were just looking too deep into the situation. He was probably just interested in your dog, especially seeing as Ghost was a wolf-dog. Yeah, that had to be it.

Taking in a small breath, you shift onto your side, Ghost grumbling at being interrupted from his sleep before he adjusts himself to where his nose was shoved up against you. He huffs as his body relaxes against you, effectively causing a calmness to come over you as well.

Flicking off the lamp, the room is surrounded by a calming darkness, the events of the day making your mind desperate for rest. The only sounds you hear are the whirring of the fan above and Ghost’s breathing. The noises lull you into a dreamless sleep, one you haven’t had in quite some time.

You barely feel the brush of fingers against your shoulder, your sleep-addled brain chalking it up to a figment of your imagination.

After all, Ghost was here.

It was okay. It would all be okay.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Mini Me and Battlefields

Mini Me | Mini Me and Dogs | This is part 3!

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!wife!reader

Summary: When you drop by the station to surprise Tim, you accidentally start a battle for who gets to hold your twins next.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst toward the end. The twins have been named! Lucius Wesley and Angel Soldier

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

A/N: The first appearance of the most unimpressive tumblr dividers you've ever seen; made by me. :)

GIF by chenfordsource

Tim makes this look so easy.

As you enter the doctor’s office for your twins’ two-and-a-half-month checkup, you wonder how Tim manages both of them so easily. He can lift both car seats without a problem, holds both boys close to his chest, and never shows any sign of being tired or weighed down. You suppose his muscles are good for more than looking at.

“Mrs. Bradford,” someone says.

You look up and see Ree, your favorite nurse that you met while giving birth. She’s become a close friend over the past couple months, though she consistently asks if any of Soldier’s friends have expressed any romantic interest in her. She’s kidding, as far as you can tell. You don’t know her full name, she goes by Ree because, in her words, “It would have been better for her mother to face slam the keyboard when naming her.”

“Hey, Ree,” you say softly.

You lower a car seat to the floor and take a breath before hugging Ree. She offers to help you take your boys to the appointment, and you gratefully accept.

“Hey, Angel,” she greets as she raises the carrier.

“Lucy freaked out last week because she forgot which was which,” you murmur.

Ree laughs before saying, “Please tell me she remembered which one is named after her.”

“Lucius likes her and raised a hand. I’ve never seen her more relieved.”

“If I remember correctly, you and the handsome Mr. Bradford argued over the names for a while. What does he think of Angel Soldier and Lucius Wesley now?”

“He doesn’t acknowledge the middle names, and he’s grumpy every time Angela or Lucy mention that they are the namesakes of his kids. He likes it better than boot and tiny Tim, though.”

“Having babies brought you out of your shell,” she muses.

“Just to talk about them,” you whisper.

“Hey, my shift ends in about an hour. Let me treat you to lunch,” Ree offers.

“I can’t ask-“

“I’m offering. And I’m taking that as a yes. I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re done?”

You nod and thank Ree for helping you before taking a seat in the waiting room. Angel coos at you, and you raise him to your chest. He looks like Tim, and you miss him more than you expected.

“We should surprise Dada,” you say against his onesie.

Angel coos again, and you take it as a “yes, we should.”

As you walk into the Mid-Wilshire station, you’re surprised by how quiet it is.

“My favorite nephews!” Lucy announces as she rushes toward you.

“Where is everyone?” you ask as she takes Lucius into her arms.

“They’re out on patrol. Which means I get uninterrupted time with you, buddy.”

“Oh, they’re getting big,” Wade says.

You look up as he exits his office and moves toward you.

“You wanna wait in my office for Tim to get back?” he offers.

“Please. They are getting big, and heavy.”

Wade chuckles before ushering you into his office and a seat. He takes Angel and has a one-sided conversation with him about Tim. You enjoy the quiet and the break from looking after both boys, but it doesn’t last long.

“Sergeant Grey, I was-“ Soldier stops before saying your name.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire softly.

“Looking for Tim. You’re doing the same, I assume.”

You see Soldier’s dog at his side, and you don’t have to ask before he passes you the leash.

“Sergeant Grey,” Bailey says from outside the door. “Oh, you’re busy.”

“The opposite, actually,” he says as Soldier sits beside you. “There’s no more seats, but come on in.”

“Aw, your babies are so cute! I’m not going to pretend I know which is which, though,” Bailey gushes. “Oh, I want one.”

“This is Lucius, named after me,” Lucy says proudly. “And that’s Angel.”

“Angel Soldier,” Soldier corrects.

You shake your head before leaning against Soldier’s arm.

“Can I hold him?” Bailey asks.

“No,” Wade answers immediately.

“He’s named after me, he’s practically mine,” Lucy argues when Bailey turns to her.

“You guys are gonna have to fight it out,” Soldier muses playfully.

Your face is hidden in his jacket, but you smile at all the love your boys are receiving.

“I’ve got a rope in the truck,” Bailey suggests. “Care for a little tug of war?”

“Three soldiers versus a cop and a firefighter won’t end well. Up the stakes,” Soldier says.

“Okay.” Bailey thinks for a moment before setting her hands on her hips to say, “Tug of war, but we use the spreader.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Soldier says. “’Scuse me.”

You move to let him stand before following them outside of Wade’s office. He rolls his seat outside, happily accepting Lucius as he holds both babies.

“Alright,” Wade announces. He watches his volume, mindful of the sleeping twins in his arms. “Soldier, you and your friends are on one team. Lucy, uh, I don’t know your name-“

“Ree,” you say.

“Lucy, you and Ree, and…” Wade pauses to look around. He scans the station for another player, and you’re surprised to hear him yell, “Wesley! You got time to spare?”

“My client is passed out drunk,” he says with a smile. “All I have is time.”

“Good. You’re on Lucy, Ree, and Bailey’s team.”

“Wait, that’s three on four,” Soldier points out.

“You’re soldiers!” Lucy argues. “That makes it even!”

“You think we’re strong?” Soldier’s friend, Trevor, asks with a smirk.

Lucy smiles before stepping closer to admit, “I don’t think those muscles are just for show.”

“Where’s this gonna go?” Soldier whispers in your ear.

“I’ve got the spreader,” Bailey announces as she returns. “And I heard three on four, but I only see two soldiers?”

“I’ve got what some call perfect timing,” Soldier’s other friend calls as he enters.

“Hey, Kojo,” you greet as he passes you the leash. “Tim ask you to drop by and check on him again or is this just for me?”

“I actually brought Kojo so I could talk to Tim without fear for my life,” Soldier answers.

“About what?”

You get distracted by Lucy and Trevor flirting as they move to their sides of the spreader. As you stand between the teams with two dogs acting as cheerleaders, you wait for Wade’s call of “Go!” before watching your closest friends battle to hold your babies.

Tim sighs as he walks into the station with Angela beside him.

“Put your back into it, Wesley!” Lucy calls inside. “I know Trevor is strong and handsome, but we can take him!”

“Thanks, Lucy!” Trevor calls with an easy wink. He flexes his bicep for show, and Lucy stumbles before setting her feet.

“Did she say Wesley?” Angela asks.

Angela and Tim rush farther into the station before freezing. You have two dogs at your side, Wade is sitting behind you holding your kids, and seven people are playing tug of war against a spreader. The complete lack of professionalism doesn’t surprise Tim, but the question of why does.

“What is happening?” he asks.

“Go, Wesley!” Angela cheers.

“Winner gets to hold the babies,” Wade tells Tim.

“My babies?”

He looks at you, and you smile before dropping your eyes. Kojo barks as Lucy continues taunting Trevor with flirtation.

“I- why did I let myself end up here?” Tim mutters.

“Whoa! We’ve got a winner,” Wade announces as one side of the spreader opens wider. “Lucy, Bailey, Wesley, and Ree, congratulations. Now be nice and take turns.”

“Tim,” Soldier calls. “Can we talk?”

You look between them as you walk toward Angela. She shrugs before hugging you and asking how your appointment went.

“Why is everyone here?” Tim asks.

“I work here,” Lucy answers.

“Not you.”

“I’m taking your wife to lunch,” Ree answers. “Since you’d rather work and make her shy. Someone has to treat her right.”

“I- never mind. Bailey?”

“I came to see John. Then I saw babies,” she explains.

“I also work here. Kind of,” Wesley says.

Tim sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before gesturing for Soldier to lead the way. Soldier takes Kojo from you for protection before disappearing into an office with Tim.

Lucy, Bailey, and Ree begin asking you questions as they hold the babies, and you answer quietly before turning away. Angela ushers you to her desk for a break, and Wesley follows behind quietly.

“I know you’re worried about Soldier,” she says as she pats your back. “But everything will work out.”

“I know. Just- I think I’m overwhelmed, overstimulated, whatever. There’s been a lot of attention today,” you say.

“We can ignore you from now on,” Wesley suggests with a smile.

You chuckle and lean back in Angela’s chair. She shows you pictures of her kids to distract you, but the moment Soldier exits the office with Tim behind him, your attention is on them. Tim tilts his head, and you stand and enter his office. Soldier smiles at you as you pass, but not even Lucy putting her number in Trevor’s phone can distract you or ease your racing heart.

“If something is wrong, please just tell me,” you request with your back to Tim.

“It’s my turn to hold Soldier Angel! And, yes, Angela, I know his real name,” Soldier says on the other side of the door.

“Nothing is wrong,” Tim promises.

His face makes you think otherwise, and he opens his arms to invite you in. As Tim holds you against his chest and cradles your head, your heart slows as your worries increase.

“Soldier is being deployed in about a month,” Tim says. “He wanted to tell me first and ask if I thought you were ready to hear it.”

“Does he know for how long?” you whisper.

“Not yet. He may know more once he’s there, but he may not be able to tell you. I’m sorry that your friend is leaving.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promise. “Because you’re still here, so I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “Plus, we’ve got that crowd outside that never leaves us alone.”

You nod and Tim moves his hands to your shoulders before kissing your cheek. When you drop your chin, he takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, too. Then you lean against him so he can’t see the happy smile on your face or continue kissing you.

“Did you know he brought Kojo because he was worried I’d hurt him for leaving you?”

“Yeah. Hey, Lucy and Trevor like each other!”

“I know,” Tim grumbles. “She hasn’t shut up about him since they met in the hospital.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“What were you gonna do? Play matchmaker?”

You frown but know that he’s right; you wouldn’t have done anything except be an onlooker. As you walk out of the office, Soldier has both Angel and Lucius in his arms as his friends and the dogs stand guard before him.

“I’m making up for lost time,” he explains when he sees you.

“As long as it’s just them,” you reply.

“No, I’m hugging you next.”

Your shoulders drop, and all of your friends laugh as Tim pulls you into his arms. Maybe a few months without Soldier isn’t all bad, as long as he comes home safe at the end.

[arachine]

cross-court . . . (๑>◡๑)

synopsis :: after a long day of patrolling, bakugou wants nothing more than to unwind by taking his furry companion on a stroll near the park. what he doesn’t expect, though, is to run into you. genre :: mature warnings :: smut (18+), characters are in their mid-twenties, phone sex, bakugo is lowkey a creep, maybe just a tiny bit of a loser, mentions of alcohol word count:: 3.7 k note:: this is a really old fic that i edited a bit. couldn’t be asked to edit it further! just wanted to get smth out >_<

The soreness in his bones is definitive proof of a hard day's work. He’d been summoned earlier that afternoon to patrol the perimeter of Kyushu (well, he was asked to pick up a shift for Kirishima and felt obligated to comply), and hadn’t caught a break since. Bakugou expected this much, though. The days and nights were growing warmer, which could only mean that there’d be a significant increase in crime—to his disdain. 

Although he spent most of the day chasing down criminals, there was currently only one thing occupying his mind. And if he could successfully (and quickly) get to his apartment without any obstacles, then he’d have a little more time to see…you. 

He’s not exactly sure when he first noticed you. It’s something that he tries to recall often, but he only ever comes up short, ultimately guessing that you were always there in the background on the days he wasn’t paying attention. The earliest memory of you—and the only one he can vividly remember—is sometime last spring. There you were at the community tennis court, with your racket in hand, dashing gracefully across the cement and skillfully obstructing your opponent’s strokes. 

If it were any other day, sure, he might’ve paid you no mind, but the way your eyes gleamed with determination—like you were certain that you’d win—is what made his stare linger a little longer. Your force on the court was fierce, and care-free, and all encompassing, and if he had a say, he’d say that you were in your own little bubble. So, that’s what he associates you with now. Spring. The season that brought warmth, and clear skies, and cool breezes, and cherry blossoms. 

The elevator ride up to his apartment is short, just as short as the conversation he had with the pro hero who happened to enter the elevator with him. He responds to their attempts at small talk with half-hearted grunts, and sometimes he says nothing at all. Honestly, he doesn’t know why people even bother. Soon, the elevator arrives on his floor with a ding, and he exits without saying a word. 

“Yeah I—oh! Have a good day, Dynamite. Nice tal-” T he elevator shuts before they can finish their sentence. 

As soon as he jiggles his keys in front of the door, his ears pick up the familiar sound of heavy paws and excited barks that belong to his furry companion. Instantly, he’s greeted with slobbery kisses and licks. 

“Alright already…y’damn mutt,” Bakugou hisses, pretending to hate the affection, “quit actin’ like I haven't seen ya in days.” After a minute or two of playing around, he kisses his teeth to call the dog over to where he stands with its collar and leash. 

“Where are we going? Are we going on a walk, girl?” he smoothes a hand over her coat after adjusting the collar around her neck, “we gonna see that pretty girl? Hm, Nala? Yeah we fucking are. Let’s go.” 

He takes this route often just to see you. It’s pathetic, really, and it’s also embarrassingly far from his apartment complex. Makes him feel like one of those creeps who frequent the park to get a glimpse at you—which was what he was kinda already doing—albeit, he liked to persuade himself into thinking his intentions were of pure heart. 

At first, he told himself that he just liked watching you because you were good. You were strong, and fast—quick on your toes and quick with your words. Sometimes, he’d pick up on the shit talking between you and your opponents, and he’d laugh. All low and hearty, nodding his head like he was on the receiving end of the jab. But then he realized one day how odd he must’ve appeared to passerbyers like himself who probably witnessed him laughing along. 

You reminded him of himself, though. And as much as he tried to tell himself that this—or whatever this really was— was just pure and unadulterated admiration, he knew it was just bullshit. Because now he wasn’t just noticing things like your strength, and your quick-wittedness, and your drive for triumph. No, he was starting to take interest in other things—other thoughts. Thoughts that were beginning to sound a whole lot like: ‘I wonder what color panties she’s wearing’ and a lot less like ‘she’s so cool’. 

Soon, every thought at the forefront of his mind was becoming sullied with fantasies of you. He was gradually becoming hyper-aware of the fact that you had a body. And yes, you had arms, and hands, and legs, and feet, and skin—in the way that everyone does—but he was starting to notice something. Your figure.

The cords of muscle in your calves (sinewy and taut, in the way that only muscles can be), your neck, the sleekness of it—a precursor to your chest, and your torso, and your ass. God, your damned ass, and your damned, stupid fucking tennis skirts. It drove him crazy. Seeing you frolick all around the court, in those little skirts that did fuck all at keeping you covered. 

And as much as he wanted to pretend that seeing a flash of your cute little panties for a modicum of a second was the biggest of his concerns…He can’t. Because regardless of his faux disdain for your prancing around in tight clothes, it’s what keeps bringing him back. And he’d keep coming back. Again, and again, and again, and…again, until he worked up the nerve to say something. 

Today he finds that nerve quickly. Not intentionally, unfortunately, but by force. Because today? Today the odds were working in his favor. Today his dog’s dumbass ball happened to roll a little too far in your court. Far enough for it to roll all the way under the gate and to your feet, presenting itself like a silver platter.

Fucking great, he thinks. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to talk to you, at least not today. But today wasn’t just a day; today was the worst of days, and shit was hitting the fan fare more than he would’ve liked. He’s pulled from his reverie when Nala gets the bright idea to run after the ball, and before he notices, she’s already up and tackling you over. 

So much for first impressions. He’d damn her straight to hell if he could (he wouldn’t), but then he figures he ought to thank his furry companion for piquing your interest because instead of freaking out (like a normal person would after being tackled by an unaccompanied dog), you receive her with open arms. All pets and giggles, praises and kisses. Nice, Nala. 

Now he’s standing there awkwardly, making that one ultra-specific face that owners make when their pets get loose and they don’t know whether to run pathetically after them or let them wreak havoc. Yeah, that one. All he can muster is a slanted smile and a wave of his hand, though from this far, he supposes he just looks weird. 

In a last-ditch attempt, he tries to lure Nala back to where he stands, but to no avail. She’s enamored with you. Giving you paws and kisses, exposing her tummy to you, wagging her tail–but most importantly she’s ignoring him! Maybe he would damn her to hell. 

“Phwt, Nala,” he whistles, rather badly, “stop ignoring me y’damned traitor. I’m your owner. You’re supposed to listen to me…” The last bit comes out in a whisper reserved for himself, but he guesses he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was, because now you’re making eye contact and rising from your haunches. 

Fuck, you were coming. 

You jog over to where he stands stupidly in his tracks, yelling a loud, “hey, is this your dog?” from across the court. When you get within his proximity, he thinks you’re stretching your hand out to greet him (to which he offers his own), but your limb strategically misses his, and he freezes as he watches you drop the ball in his hand. The blond feels stupid, but he quickly fixes his composure, forcing a stiff smile on his face, trying not to gag at the amount of slobber on his hand. 

“Sorry about that, I get a little carried away whenever a dog’s around” you confess, looking down amicably at the furry giant. Bakugou shakes his head in response, mumbling a cool ‘it’s fine’ under his breath. You’re the first to initiate small talk—a pleasantry he finds vexing—but he finds himself hyper-fixating a little too hard on your lips that are spewing words of triviality. Every now and then, he remembers to nod his head, and then he subconsciously tells you his name when the question arises. 

His irises shift from your plump lips, to the dip in your collarbone, and then finally, they settle on the dew droplets of sweat that trickle down your chest. The pro hero notices that he hasn’t heard a damn thing you’ve said for the entire duration of this conversation. But now you’re looking at him, and your lips aren’t moving, and fuck, you were definitely waiting for a response. 

“Do you wanna fuck?” 

It takes him a second to register you’ve said something, and then it takes him another second to register if what he heard was truly what you’d said. 

“I'm sorry, what?” he queries, wrapping the leash around his hand once, then twice. 

“I asked if you wanted to exchange numbers?” you smile innocently, holding your phone out. 

“I've seen you and this pretty girl,” you start, bending down to pet the excited pup, “walking around for a while, and I figured…I don’t know—that I could play around with her some time. you know, if that’s alright with you…” 

Oh, so he must’ve heard you wrong the first time, he thinks. Looking down at his pup, the two make eye contact briefly before the furry companion barks in approval, wagging its tail eagerly. 

“Yeah, sure,” he nods and gestures for you to hand over your phone. After he punches his digits into your phone, you’re quick to exchange your phone for his, undergoing the same process of punching in little numbers.

When the two of you part ways, he opens his phone again to look at your contact. A small chuckle leaves his lips once he sees the name you saved your number under.

“Tennis girl,” he whispers to himself. 

The door to his apartment swings open swiftly, and he unclasps the leash around the dog’s neck before meandering over to the fridge to grab a beer. The first sip is pure elation. He doesn't drink everyday, but he likes to keep a case of this liquid-gold relief at his disposable. 

Before he can indulge in another sip, his phone buzzes with a notification. Nobody usually has the balls to bother him after his shifts, but he doesn’t think much of it. Not until it buzzes for a second time, then a third, and now he’s agitated enough to rest his drink on the counter. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethes, clobbering over to his room where he threw his phone. The screen flashes brightly from across the room and then fades to black. “Who the fuc—“

He taps the screen to see one message, two image attachments, and a voice memo, all from you. Skeptically, he opens his phone and clicks on your contact to see the messages. The first message says ‘figured you might like these’ and then his vermillion eyes flicker over to the two pictures. 

One is angled low enough to show the bottom of your ass, and the other is of you bent over with your hand pushing your panties to the side, cunt front and center, and dripping. Your face isn’t in either, but he knows it’s you because of that damned skirt. 

The longer he stares at the pictures, the more his face riddles with confusion, and the more his sweats become impossibly uncomfortable to be in. Then he remembers the voice memo. There's a brief silence before a familiar voice begins to speak. It's low and breathy.

“You know—shit—you’re so fucking clueless. I've s-seen you ogling me for months, and t-today I caught you staring at my chest,” he’s almost certain he can see you playing with your pussy with the lewd sounds that are coming through his phone. 

“I asked if you w-wanted to fuck, but you were—fuck—were too caught up in being a p-pervert. Guess you missed your chance...”

The voice note ends there. He utters a few proclivities into the air, sighing frustratedly as he falls back into the marshmallowy plush comforter of his bed. The tightness in his pants is annoying, really fucking annoying, but the dull ache in his cock is much more convincing than the small voice in his head. 

Fumbling to untie the drawstrings, he quickly pulls his sweats, along with his boxers, down to rest at the apex of his thighs. His cock is heavy against his abdomen, the mushroomy head burning scarlet and dripping with silk. God, he hated how easily he had fallen victim to your trickery. He was observant, and quick-witted, and could generally tell when a chick wanted to sleep with him. 

But this? He’d never expected this. Or whatever this really was. He'd watched you from afar all these months, overheard your many idle conversations with friends as you tied your tennis shoes on the bench, and he often caught glimpses of the smile that graced your face whenever you scored a point. You were innocent, then. at least, that’s the conclusion he came to after clandestinely peering into fleeting moments of your life—but now he figures that’s what you wanted him to see, allowed him to see. 

Bakugou's heart begins to thump a little faster with each firm tug to his length, the fixed lub-dub murmur of the organ now something completely unrecognizable. Just as he’s about to shut his eyes, he sees a flash of white from his peripheral view. It’s another text from you. 

tennis girl: left me on read :(

tennis girl: you touching yourself rn?

The boy huffs out a breath and throws his head back, continuing his ruthless ministrations on his aching cock. His ears perk up to the sound of yet another notification. 

tennis girl: want some help ;) 

“The fuck?” His eyes narrow into slits as he reads the message, but he’s too concerned with finishing to respond. When he thinks you’ve finally given up, you once again, prove him wrong. Instead of a few intermittent buzzes, his phone now rings irksomely. You’re requesting a facetime call. He stares at his reflection on the phone, uncertain if he should indulge you or finish without your ‘help’, as you put it, but impulsively picks it up. 

The camera is already flipped once the call goes through. You’re sitting on your bed with your legs spread, and a dildo nestled in your cunt. He hears the creak of the bed as your body thrashes and contorts from pleasure, and he hears the pretty moans that spill from your mouth. Of course, you’re the first to break the silence. 

“‘M so wet ‘cause of you,” your voice is sultry and sweet, “couldn’t wait to get home ’n touch myself…wanna touch you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks, you can’t really see him in the dimness of his room, but you know there’s mischief laced in his voice. “Y’wanna touch me? What would you do?” Bakugou squeezes his girth just before bringing a cupped hand to his mouth to spit. 

“Go on, tell me, and then I'll tell y’what I've been dying to do to you for months,” he flips the camera, smoothing the warm spit down his length. 

“Been thinkin’ about taking you to my apartment since i first saw you,” you bring the dildo out momentarily, “and you fucking me like this,” you slam the silicone back into your cunt. The dildo wasn’t nearly as big as he was, but the sight of it disappearing in and out of you made his dick jump pathetically. 

“That all, princess?” he mocks, like he’s unimpressed by your reply. You vehemently shake your head but realize he can’t see your face, so you open your mouth again to speak.

“No…I think a lot about sucking you off too,” you confess, “and how bad I want you to finish down my throat.” 

“So this whole time you’ve been thinking about me like this? What a dirty little slut,” he breathes, a light chuckle leaving his wet, bitten lips.

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh?” Your eyes flutter closed so that you can hone in on his words. 

“For starters,” he says matter-of-factly, “you might wanna get a bigger dildo, ‘cause my dick’s a lot bigger than that.”

“Really?” you pull the dildo out of your cunt and opt to use your fingers instead, resting the cold pads on the swell of your clit. Slowly, you circle the flesh, a few whimpers emitting from your throat. 

“Yeah, it’d—shit—stretch you out b-better too,” his breathing quickens as he begins to reach his peak. “Been wantin’ to dump my load in that pretty little cunt for a minute.” 

“What else?” there’s curiosity nestled under your tongue. You wanna say more to coax him on but find it rather difficult to form a coherent thought. 

“‘Bout your thighs wrapped ‘round my head, and stuffing you full of my fingers,” Bakugou’s calloused  grip is tighter now, sloppier. You assume from his occasional grunts and curses that he’s close to finishing, and judging by your intermittent pants, he comes to the conclusion that you are too. 

With determination, you continue your brutal ministrations on your clit, the nub wholly numb and engorged beneath your fingertips. For a second, you almost forget about the man’s presence, utterly too focused on reaching your own climax, not even paying mind to the fact that your eyes had been glued shut. The sound of slick skin, rubbing against slick skin, reverberates through your phone’s speaker. You’d like to imagine the expressions he’d make if he were here with you now. Would they be soft? Hard? Plain? Or would they be an amalgamation of each. Your imagination doesn’t get the chance to wander too far, because soon, he flips the camera towards his face, almost as if he’d heard your inner monologue. 

The light in his room is still dim, save for the bits of the sun peaking through the blinds that aid in exposing half of his face. Most of his features are subdued by the darkness—all but his eyes (and his flushed cheeks)—which seem to hold so much expression in them. Even with just half of his face on display, he still looks pretty. You attempt to see if you can make out any of the rest of his features, but to no avail. 

“Turn your camera around, wanna see your face,” it comes out more like a demand than a plea. You do as he says and flip your camera. When his eyes find your own, he sits up against his headboard, the second half of his face now uncovered. Seeing all of his features work harmoniously to make a lewd expression was enough to tip you over the edge, and it wasn’t helping that his open-mouthed pants were growing more and more provocative. 

“S-So close, ‘m gonna come!” 

“Fuck, go ahead, baby,” he weakly ruts into his fist, “Show me the face you make when you come.” 

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen begin to wind tighter and tighter, the pressure on your bladder becoming almost unbearable. Your flicking and circling never falter, that is, until you press down on the spot where your bladder resides beneath, and feel an abundance of pleasure wash over you like an unruly tide. The essence that drips from your core stands out starkly against the dark linen of your bed. 

Bakugou watches intently as you whimper and pant through the screen, your chest rising and falling like rose petals in the wind. Your tired, sultry eyes alone are more than enough to make him finish, but then you flip the camera to show your bed and now he’s really close. 

“Look at the mess, you did this.”

“God, you’re so f-fucking dirty,” he grits through bared teeth, “Show me your pretty pussy, yeah?” 

Once his vermillion eyes meet your cunt, dripping and convulsing, he reaches his peak. The boy releases a strangled moan, falling tirelessly onto his back as his cock streams liquid hot white onto the expanse of  his stomach. He uses whatever energy he has left to fist the appendage a few more times, groaning into his neck once he sees the globs of cum coating his knuckles. 

The gentle breeze sneaking in through the window aids in cooling down his hot skin. From the window he can see cherry blossoms dancing in the air; his heart slows as he witnesses a single petal stick to his window. Bakugou is brought back to reality upon hearing your voice. 

“Hope this isn’t the last time,” your face is softer in the afternoon glow, “don’t think I’ve ever come this hard.” There’s some lingering hope hidden in the obsidian of your eyes. He can’t help but to laugh, of course this wouldn’t be the last time. Not after he’d been dreaming of this for months.

“You won’t hafta hope for nothin’, princess. Next time you’ll be gettin’ the real thing.” 

The call ends promptly, and as soon as it does, you get a text. 

Bakugou: Free next Friday night at 8. Come to this address.

Bakugou: xxxxx xxxxx Apt.

Your lips upturn into a mischievous smile. He has no idea…

© arachine 2023

[leighsartworks216]

Mutually Assured Destruction

Sylus x gn!Reader

I don't remember anymore how this idea came to me but I needed to write it. Makes references to other stories in the Raven series

Warnings: spicy but no smut, collars, leashes, muzzles, marking, ownership, master/pet, light bondage, halloween, slight swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 2,667

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You glare at the twins with a hardened fury that could scare any client of Sylus’s into pissing their pants and apologizing to you for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, this is Luke and Kieran. They don’t crumble under the stare. They laugh.

It’s stupid, you decide. Before, well, you were open to the idea. Miss Hunter needs “Skye” to make an appearance at a Halloween party thrown by her colleagues and friends, so it’s only natural he’d want to bring his partner along to join in on the fun. She didn’t argue against it, but she did warn about keeping you - hm, how did she put it again? Ah, yes, on a tight leash.

Why’d she have to say it in front of these chuckleheads?

The black collar is lined with spiked studs, connected to a long leather leash. Sure, fine, whatever. You even like the idea of wearing it, so long as the leash is in Sylus’s hand.

But a muzzle?

“Awe, c’mon! We don’t get to go, so you might as well let us have some fun with it!”

“We can run out and grab you a box of milk bones, if you’d like.”

Sylus wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you away from the twins before you can successfully wrap the leash around their necks. “You’re dismissed,” he orders with a wave of his hand. He takes the muzzle from you, idly studying it.

You glare over your shoulder at Luke and Kieran, who snicker as they finally do as they’re told. The sound grates on your nerves until the door closes and shuts them out.

You shift out of his hold easily. He perches against his nice, expensive desk as he watches you pace back and forth, fiddling with the leather collar and leash in your hands. He sets the muzzle aside and crosses his arms.

“What are you thinking about?”

A lot of things, quite frankly. Your position as the fearsome guard dog of the great Onychinus leader, Miss Hunter and her little friends, the party, your costume, your increasingly complex feelings on being “owned” by someone…

You know Sylus doesn’t own you. You know, if ever you wished it, you could walk right out of here and go on into forever, and he would let you. It would hurt. But he wouldn’t hold you back.

Is it so wrong if you want him to…?

Your body has never been yours. As a kid, it belonged to the streets and the failed help programs of the city. As a teen, it belonged to your damned tormentor, the Devil. Even when you escaped as a young adult, you didn’t know enough about who you were anymore to hold any claim over yourself. You fought, you struggled, you became cleverer, and scarier. You became the Raven. And for the short time you’ve carried that name, you have learned to own yourself again. Even the ring on your pinky, that eternal promise mirrored on Sylus’s own hand, could not steal that from you.

Maybe it’s not quite ownership you want to give up, then.

You want to keep owning yourself, but you want him to, as well. You want to be that hopelessly loyal guard dog to him. You want to be obedient to his commands, and defiant in order to protect him. You want to tear out the throats of everyone who looks at him the wrong way. You want him to watch….

You want to be wanted.

And you are, aren’t you? He has never made it seem like he wants anything else but for you to be by his side. Not only that, how many times has he made it clear that he belongs to you? How many more times must he before it sinks in? Before you can grasp the fact that he wants to be your hopelessly loyal guard dog? That he wants to be obedient to your every command and defiant in order to protect you? He wants to tear out the throats of everyone who looks at you the wrong way, and he wants you to watch him do it.

He impedes your path, stopping you in your tracks and tilting your head up by your chin. He’s frowning. There’s a furrow between his brows. “What’s wrong?” he asks, more insistent than before.

Wrong? Is anything wrong here? The twins’ meddling in messing with you, maybe - but they weren’t exactly wrong. You are his dog on a leash, a dangerous animal that will bite if given the chance.

But… so is he.

You’re two wild, vicious animals. You’ve lashed out to save yourselves. Done horrific things in order to keep the weaker dogs from challenging you, and even worse things to those who dared to try. But you hold his leash, and he holds yours. You could so easily choke him with it. He could choke you with it. And yet, you are at peace - content in your mutually assured destruction.

“Sweetheart?”

You breathe in deeply. You hold the collar out to him, the leash loosely coiled and dangling from your fingers. He glances down at it, but his attention is focused solely on you.

“I want to wear it,” you say quietly. “But only if you’re the one putting it on.”

Something flickers in his eyes. The furrow in his brow is gone, replaced with silent understanding. He releases your chin. Long fingers wrap around the collar and leash, pressed between your palms as he holds your hand. “What about the muzzle?”

You grin slightly, playfully. It’s that same satisfied smirk you had back when he first met you. “I may need it around all those people, don’t you think?”

He chuckles. “If you behave, I’ll give you a treat after. How does that sound?”

He takes the collar. You can’t deny the thrill that runs through you as you watch him deftly undo the silver buckle. You stare up at him as he wraps the leather around your throat. He stares right back with a hungry look in his eyes as he slowly tightens it.

The leather is surprisingly soft. Not for a dog, that’s for sure. You’re almost grateful the twins regard you with enough respect to buy a collar made for humans. Almost. Not enough to let this whole incident slide unpunished. You think a little target practice to try shooting off the rings on their horns is a good warmup.

He tightens it a little more than necessary. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut, or the soft sigh that escapes through your nose. You’re rewarded with the familiar press of lips to your own. “Good dog,” he hums teasingly. You hate how much you love it.

He loosens it back up, enough to sit comfortably without rubbing your neck raw. His face is still tauntingly close to yours. Every breath fans over you, daring you to close the gap.

But you don’t.

He draws back once the buckle is secured. The leash hangs down, long enough to reach your mid-calf. “I wonder if you know any tricks,” he muses with a smirk and that cocky head tilt he does. He nods over to his desk. “Sit.”

You narrow your eyes up at him, but you smile. It reminds you of the commands he usually uses to control you during negotiations, and just how you both came to the agreement of using them. And like the good little pet you are, you saunter over to the desk and pull yourself up to sit on it. Back straight, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in your lap. He loves it.

He follows, standing in front of you and picking up the muzzle from his desk. It’s a basket muzzle, shaped to fit a human’s face instead of a dog’s snout. Silver bars weave together in an imprisoning array. Two straps hang in loose circles, held together by silver buckles. Sylus deftly undoes them, while his eyes appreciate the line of the leash that trails down your body and disappears between your thighs.

Holding the basket with one hand, and a strap in the other, he reaches forward to place the muzzle on your face. You turn, dodging the contraption, to catch the meat of his thumb between your teeth. He chuckles. “Behave. Be a good dog, won’t you?”

You bite down slightly harder, enough to leave a mark without breaking skin, but don’t let go. He smirks, leaning down until he’s at eye-level with you. “Here I thought this pup was properly trained. Do I have to tame them myself?”

It’s intoxicating, the playful yet almost threatening lilt in his voice. If you didn’t have a party to go to for Miss Hunter’s sake, you would love to test the limits of your handler even further.

As it is, you do have a party to go to, and time is ticking away.

Your teeth release his flesh. Left behind is a pretty red mark with indents from your canines and incisors. You stare into his eyes as you slowly lick the mark. His eyes follow the swipe of your tongue, darkened with desire.

With no more protests, he affixes the straps around your head - one that goes over your ears and one that goes under. The metal cage over your nose and mouth is cushioned by a strip of soft leather. It’s restrictive, but it’s not uncomfortable. If you wanted to, you could speak… or bark, if you felt like it.

Sylus places a kiss over the metal wires with a devilish grin. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

His hand traces your jaw, fingertips dancing over the straps, to your neck. He idly brushes over the studs along the collar, trailing down the line to reach the D-ring at the front. It’s large enough that he could hook his finger in it, but why do that when there’s a perfectly good leash right there?

The metal clasp of the leash jingles lighty against the ring. You can hear the leather sliding between his fingers as he pulls it from between your thighs. It creaks as he wraps it around his hand. He tugs on it experimentally. You’re jolted forward. The collar is tighter against the back of your neck, straining toward the pull.

“I enjoy it, too,” he hums lowly, for your ears only. He keeps the tension on the line as he leans in to press soft kisses at the edge of the muzzle. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, falsified wariness shining back at him. They flutter shut as he smiles against your skin, trailing his lips lower and lower, over the straps of the muzzle and to the top of the collar.

“I wonder…” His breath is loud in your ears, mixing with your heartbeat, as he leaves an open-mouthed kiss at the line where skin meets leather. “When we get back…” His teeth ghost over your pulse. “How I would look in your place?”

Your eyes snap open and lock onto him. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze with a wide smile. “Would you like that, my beloved?” He kisses your cheek. “Me, collared and chained, obedient to your every command?”

He hums thoughtfully. “I wonder how obedient you really are. Does this dog bark?”

He pulls tighter on the leash, causing you to strain your neck against it. “Growl?”

He suddenly slackens the lead. You’re unsteady as you press your hands into the desk for support. Before you can growl at him, his fingers are pulling down the collar to get to your sweet spot. His teeth nibble at it, pulling an unexpected sound from your mouth. “Oh? So they can whine. Do you howl, too?”

He kisses your skin more intently, sucking on it and leaving little bites, soothed by his tongue. One right below your jaw makes you whimper. “Good dog,” he whispers. His free hand pets your hair, the one holding the leash coming to rest beside your thigh as he leans over you. “Maybe I should cover your whole neck like this.” He bites harder at the spot. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Would you like that, hm? Being mine?”

You nod. You're on cloud nine, mind fuzzy from elation. He tugs at the leash again, this time pulling it behind you so it presses up against your trachea. You gasp in response, fighting to keep sitting upright even as your head is strained back.

“Speak.”

“Yes.”

He slackens the lead again, breath growing heavy and with a growl at the back his throat as he goes to work devouring you. “Good dog.”

-

Miss Hunter greets you a few paces from the door with wide eyes. She stares at the (very fresh) marks littering your neck, some hidden by the collar and some with oddly suspicious teeth marks. She gives Sylus a dubious look. “Just who needs to be muzzled here?”

He smirks lazily. “The difference is who gets bit, kitten. I would hate to rush your coworkers to the hospital tonight.”

She glares at him, before glancing at your neck one more time. “Somebody’s gonna think this is some weird BDSM thing…” Nonetheless, she moves on. “What are you two supposed to be, exactly?”

“Can’t you tell? After all the effort we went through…” He sighs, feigning disappointment. “I’m a vampire. You seemed so insistent on it, because of my red eyes, remember?”

His costume is very toned down - some custom-fit vampire fangs and some nice clothes. Kieran suggested the fake blood, which runs from his lip down his chin.

“And what are they?”

You think Luke snuck into Linkon City for supplies purely to mess with you further, because while Kieran was handing Sylus a bottle of fake blood, Luke was handing you fuzzy animal ears and a fake tail. If it weren’t for the muzzle, you probably would have bitten him when he pat your head.

“My pet werewolf, of course.” He gestures to the leash. “This is just to ensure they don’t go on any rampages while they’re here.”

She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh huh, is that the only reason?”

He tilts his head back at her. “Sorry, sweetie, I’m afraid our relationship is rather exclusive. We’re not looking for a third member right now.”

Her cheeks heat up as she sputters out, “Th-That’s not what I meant!” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Anyway, everyone’s inside. Just, don’t scare them off,” she gives you a pointed look, “and keep your fangs to yourself.” She turns it on Sylus.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’m as docile as they come.”

She shakes her head again and runs off, slipping inside the house where the party is taking place.

A warm hand scratches you playfully behind one of the fake animal ears. “Ready?”

You turn to him and crook a finger to beckon him down to your height. Even without a collar to control him, he does as you ask, until his sharp eyes are level with yours. He shouldn’t have been so caught off guard by the sudden feeling of the leash at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. He huffs a laugh once he realizes what you’ve done.

From the outside, it looks awkward and uncomfortable. Your leash pulls at your own collar as you hold it around his neck, pinched together at the front with one of your hands so he can’t pull away. From there, it trails down to his own hand, where it’s still wrapped around in his hold.

From the inside, Sylus’s eyes glance down at your mouth, and how he wishes the muzzle weren’t there so he could kiss you. You lean forward until the cold metal wires of the muzzle brush against his ear. “I’m looking forward to my treat.”

He turns his head to meet your eye, a wicked little gleam shining back at you. “So am I.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton

[annievrse]

boyfriend!eren headcanons pt. 2.*･｡ﾟ

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons part 1 part 3

boyfriend!eren throws everything like a basketball (including but not limited to: trash, clothes, your phone, his phone, snacks (mostly chips), tv remotes, armin’s hamster (it was one time, and cheez-it was fine))

boyfriend!eren who, when it’s his turn to organise dates, will centre them around the thing he is most obsessed with at that moment (e.g. golf. he will follow ONE pga tour and fully believe he has the skills because ‘it can’t be that hard’ (it is). expect dates to top golf, or just an 18-hole golf course (even if you can’t hit a golf ball to save your life). he will think he is scottie scheffler. don’t even speak to me)

boyfriend!eren will stop being a menace when you give him The Look™️

boyfriend!eren then gets teased relentlessly by jean, connie, sasha etc etc., who tell you to ‘keep your dog on a leash' when he’s being particularly annoying

boyfriend!eren is supposed to wear glasses when he drives but absolutely despises it, so he doesn’t (it’s a treat when he does, though ;))

following on, boyfriend!eren hates wearing any type of glasses when he drives, so he puts his sunglasses on you and he loves the way you look in them (even if he has some dad speed sunglasses)

boyfriend!eren loves watching documentaries no matter the topic

boyfriend!eren walks around your apartment in just boxers all year round

boyfriend!eren cooks a mean chicken alfredo (and that’s IT)

boyfriend!eren will just sit on your bedroom floor

boyfriend!eren still counts on his fingers but, despite popular belief, is actually good at maths

boyfriend!eren considers himself a dilf?

boyfriend!eren who, when on picnic dates, tries to cartwheel and fails miserably (0/10 would not recommend, it’s embarrassing for him but mostly you)

boyfriend!eren will wait around restlessly at your apartment when you’re in class like a literal DOG

boyfriend!eren threatens to call the restaurant you just ordered from because they forgot to take out the thing you didn’t want (will still be going on about it even after you’ve finished eating)

boyfriend!eren recognises when you don’t feel the best, even when you try and hide it, and does everything in his power to make you feel better

boyfriend!eren will go through an entire bag of candy to pick out the ones you like, just to put in a separate container for you <3

boyfriend!eren gets irritated by the sound of a vacuum and throws a pillow over his head until you're finished (he is literally a dog wtf come on now)

boyfriend!eren will curl everything in sight to show off his biceps (to you) (e.g. the watermelon in the fridge, your 2L emotional support water bottle, the stack of books you impulse bought at 12am, his 5kg protein powder tub)

boyfriend!eren comes to the store to look at candles while you get actual things because he's very particular about them ever since you were given a caramel one for the holidays, and the smell made him feel sick :(

boyfriend!eren will call you bro/dude/man when he wants to be petty in an argument, but he can also be serious when he needs to be

boyfriend!eren tries to persuade you to let him get a pet rat so he can teach it tricks :/ (spoiler: he was forbidden to get one after the cheez-it incident)

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You and Mark have to punish your pup for disobeying Pairing: Samoyed!Jeno x fem Golden Retriever!reader x human!Mark Tropes: hybrid au, poly au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: hybrids, language Smut Warnings: collar & leash, voyeurism, scent play(?), grinding, unprotected sex, dirty talk, biting/marking, mxm content Word Count: 1,122 Note: continuation of this drabble for @raibebe Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Want by Taemin

“No, no, no,” Jeno whines, his hair moving with his motion, “I’ll be–”

“Dogs don’t fucking speak, do they?” Mark reminds him.

Jeno’s ears droop slightly. Mark pulls his leg away from Jeno’s tented sweatpants. You watch as Jeno forces a whine down his throat. His normally soft scent sharpens with desire. It affects your own to grow sweeter and sharper.

Mark moves you to lie back on the bed comfortably. Your blonde floppy ears splay out with your hair against the pillows. Jeno’s leash is still tight in Mark’s hold. He pulls the younger closer to the edge of the bed absent-mindedly as he focuses on kissing you. His free hand pulls your underwear down your legs. You help him by squirming your legs. He tosses the soaked material off the bed toward Jeno.

“That’s all you get. Understood?” He asks, still not looking at the Samoyed hybrid.

Jeno nods profusely and accepts the material. While he’s distracted, Mark lets the leash go slack for a moment as he removes his clothing. Mark drags his cock against your bare pussy. The feeling of that alone sends your body and mind into raw desperation for your human boyfriend.

“Mark,” you gasp when his cock catches on your clit, “Please, fuck me. Need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Want me to fuck you raw and leave a mess for our pup to clean up later?”

You whimper at his filthy words and the implications of them. Mark pushes into you, making you moan loudly and cling to him. Jeno makes a small noise, wanting some sort of release or attention. You let one of your hands fall down by his face. He nuzzles into your palm, happy that he got anything at all.

Mark thrusts into you at a brain-numbing pace. You’re seeing stars. You know your scent is sharp and sweet. It’s definitely taking a toll on Jeno’s state. When you look at him for a moment, you can tell his pupils are nearly engulfing his irises. His scent is extremely sharp out of pure desperation for any form of release from his aroused state. Leaning forward more, Jeno nudges against Mark’s arm.

“Do you want something, pup? Can’t you see I’m preoccupied fucking our precious girlfriend?”

“Markie,” you whine when he hits that perfect spot inside you.

“Hmm?” He hums, eyes refocusing on you.

“More, please, need more!” You beg.

Mark smirks before leaning down to kiss you. You moan into the kiss. If you were on your stomach, you know your tail would be twitching and wagging from the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. Mark’s free hand wanders into your hair, slotting his fingers around one of your ears. The touch to your puppy ear makes your body even more reactive. Mark tugs Jeno’s leash, pulling the Samoyed hybrid up onto his knees. His snow-white ears are pointed back in submission to the elder.

Pulling away from you slightly, Mark locks his lips with Jeno’s. Despite saying the other puppy hybrid would only get your underwear, he hungrily kisses him. Still, Mark keeps his brutal pace fucking you. He doesn’t kiss Jeno for very long. He keeps his word, not giving the other man a single bit of relief. 

“Mark, please,” Jeno whines, “I’m a good boy! I’m being good!” 

“Pup,” you moan, “Come here.”

“Darling,” Mark says with a warning tone, “He’s not getting anything.”

You moan when Mark places a kiss against a sensitive spot near your scent gland on your throat. He may not be able to smell your scent like Jeno can, but he loves kissing and marking your scent glands just as much as the other puppy hybrid does. 

“We can’t let our pretty puppy suffer, Markie.” You gasp, “It’s not fair to him.”

Mark continues to kiss your throat and leave pretty purple bruises behind each time. Jeno whimpers, wishing to be the one marking you up. He’s always been obsessed with the action. He never properly bites your throat where the mating mark would be placed. You’re all very careful of that, even if Mark can never properly mate you.

“Maybe he should’ve been a good pup and waited until I told him it was okay to get off on my leg.”

“Mark,” you moan as his fingers pull the hair around your puppy ears slightly, “He’s being so good right now. Look at him.”

Mark pulls away from your throat to look at your other boyfriend. The Samoyed hybrid is sitting beside the bed just as he was told. His eyes are wide and brimmed with tears, adding to his desperate puppy dog expression. The black collar around his throat stands out against his unmarked skin, and the leash only adds to the debauched sight.

Your human boyfriend stops his hips altogether, making you whine from the lack of stimulation. He sits up, still deep inside you, and tugs Jeno closer again. The puppy lets out a shaky breath, being held meer inches from his boyfriend’s face. You’re so desperate to just grind down against Mark’s cock as he calculates his next move on Jeno. 

“Please,” Jeno whines. 

“You’re out of your headspace?” Mark questions quietly.

The Samoyed nods, “Yeah, just need–”

Mark drops the leash and takes Jeno’s face in his hands, pressing his cheeks slightly. Again, Jeno’s scent spikes for a second then evens out to a still sharp yet smoother state. You finally cave and move your hips against Mark’s. He smirks while keeping his eyes locked on Jeno’s.

“I know you smell and see it, pup.” He says in a low voice, “You want to help her out too, yeah?”

“Mmm,” Jeno hums, trying his best to nod.

“That’s our good boy.” He muses, “Come on, come help me take care of our girlfriend.”

Jeno doesn’t need to be told twice. He climbs up on the bed and sits close to you. He desperately wants to nuzzle into your scent gland, but he knows it’ll only make him more needy than he already is. The leash still dangles from his neck, too eager to wait for Mark to help him take it off. It works as an advantage to your older boyfriend, though. He slips his hand around the chain of the leash again and guides Jeno back to him.

“Behave, or else you’ll be tied to the bed, unable to touch either of us. Understood?”

“Y-yes, may I…” he trails off.

“Pup,” you call him in a breathy tone, still fucking yourself on Mark’s cock, “Come help me out a bit. I’m sure Mark will be kind this time.”

“For now, yes.” Mark chuckles, finally moving to meet your thrusts, “Go on, be a good boy.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

In The Night

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~3.3k

Summary: Late night out

A/N: Another risk assessment

Warnings: stalking, violence, blood, hurt/comfort

The years you’ve spent with your wife have only heighted your already healthy paranoia. You didn’t go anywhere alone after dark if you could help it, and if you did, you tried to at least have your dog with you. 

Tonight, you only had yourself to blame. It was nearly 10 o’clock and you’d watched as night fell from where you sat with some of your friends and Boone at a brewery near work. You didn’t drink much because you never do, but you’ve eaten enough to become pleasantly full and a little sleepy. You reach out to pet your dog and smile when he sniffs your hand for any morsel of food. You haven’t given him anything but his treats under the table, and you know he’s not very happy about this. 

“It’s getting late.” 

You say this despite it being way earlier than the last night you’d spent out with your friends. However, this time you have your dog, and you also want to get home to your wife. She’s texted a couple of times, and seeing a picture of her on the couch with Fletcher makes you want to get home sooner so you can join her.

You hug your friends goodbye before they leave you and Boone to head back to your car only a couple of blocks away. 

You’re only a little on edge as you leave the bright lights of the brewery behind you for the dimly lit streets. You figure Bucky is nearby, but you try to walk as quickly as you can without seeming like you’re running. Boone’s walking beside you and you’re holding his leash in a white knuckled grip as you turn the corner down the road where your car is parked. 

The sound of her phone ringing from the coffee table jolts Wanda back to consciousness. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep until she sees that the show she’d been watching has stopped playing, and Fletcher was nowhere in sight. She sighs as she reaches for her phone and answers it almost before it’s to her ear when she sees it’s Bucky. As usual, he was following you around since you were away from home. Hopefully he was calling to tell her that you were on your way back. 

“Hey Bucky.” 

“Wanda, I need you to meet me downtown. Now.” 

Wanda’s already off the couch and running to the garage before Bucky’s finished speaking. She asks what’s wrong, but she doesn’t wait for a response as she slams her hand against the garage door opener just outside the door as she steps into a pair of boots before running for her car. Wanda jumps inside and the engine roars to life before she backs the car out almost before the garage door is all the way opened. 

“We’re going to meet whoever’s been tailing you for the past couple of weeks.” 

Your car is only about 100 feet away, and at this point it’s one of the only ones on the street given the late hour. You pick up the pace a bit before reaching into your pocket for the key fob to start the car. You’re still 50 feet away when the engine cuts on and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’re almost to your car when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You smile when you see it’s Wanda and you’re opening the passenger door to let Boone jump in when you hear your wife’s voice come through your car speakers. 

“Hey Wands.” 

You’re fiddling with your phone so you can still hear your wife as you shut the door and step off the sidewalk. 

“Y/n, where are you? Are you safe?” 

You stop in your tracks at Wanda’s frantic voice, and you’re about to tell her that you’re fine when you hear something behind you. You don’t get a chance to turn around when something is thrown over your head and pulled tight against your throat. You gasp and drop your phone as your hands go to grab at the cord that’s quickly tightening around your neck. You can’t see much through the hood over your head, but you see shadows moving around you as you’re dragged back onto the sidewalk. You hear Boone’s muffled bark from inside the car and realize that you should have gotten in first. Or at the very least not shut the door on him.

You’re kicking and trying to regain your footing as you gasp for breath, but when you feel someone try to grab your legs, you realize you’re running out of time. You hiss out a curse as you reach to your right side where you have a hunting knife stashed under your jacket. 

Your brother-in-law had gotten it for you as a gag gift because he knew how much you hated the idea of hunting. After seeing your wide-eyed, confused expression, he’d told you and Wanda that it was something you could use to protect yourself. He’d even suggested putting it in Boone’s harness pouch of weapons. 

You’re extremely grateful that you’d chosen not to do this tonight as you feel the handle against your fingers and quickly yank the knife out from under your jacket. You bring it down behind you as hard as you can, and you hear a satisfying scream when you bury your knife into the man’s thigh. You gasp when you’re dropped and air floods into your lungs as you rip the hood off your head and breathe in deeply. You look up from where you’re on your knees to see that the person who’d been trying to help cart you off to who knows where was about to grab you again. You don’t have time to think about it, and you raise the knife that you luckily held onto. 

“You bitch!” 

You blink when you realize that you sliced open his cheek, but he’s still coming after you. You curse as you try to catch your breath enough to stand up, but movement out of the corner of your eye makes you pause. You open your mouth to curse again, but you don’t make it in time. 

You can only watch as Boone jumps out the now open window and lunges at the bleeding man in front of you. You’re barely on your feet when you feel someone grab your hair and yank you backwards. Your world spins and you’re shoved against brick, your hand that’s holding the knife stuck between you and the wall. 

“Fuck-.” 

You don’t know what would have happened next, but the feeling of more hands on you tells you enough to be grateful for the rescue. You hear tires squealing and multiple gun shots that make you flinch in anticipation. You hear your dog snarling and you decide you need to figure out what’s going on, so you push back as hard as you can against the body that’s at least a hundred pounds heavier than you. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, but it’s enough for you to have time to turn around and kick him to the ground. 

You look around frantically for the next threat, and can’t help the way you fall against the wall breathless. Now that you’re able to think, you realize that you hurt all over, and each ragged breath you take burns. 

“Y/n!”

You finally notice the car parked behind your own, and see that Wanda is running toward you. You glance down when you see that Boone is still mauling the guy who choked you and you barely even flinch when Wanda hits him in the head with the gun that you just realized she’s holding. 

“Y/n, we need to go. Can you give Bucky your keys?” 

You flinch violently when Bucky appears out of nowhere and comes to stand by you. You see that he has a cut above his brow and a couple of bruises on his face. You don’t have time to ask what happened and you’re reaching for your keys without a word. You’re too dazed to say anything as Bucky gets in your car and starts it up again before he takes off. 

You let Wanda lead you to her car that’s still running, and she opens the door for you before hurrying to the driver’s side. Boone jumps into the open back window and Wanda raises it before she takes off after Bucky. You don’t hear the sirens in the distance, but Wanda does and she takes a deep breath before speeding to catch up with Bucky. 

“Are you okay, detka? Where are you hurt?” 

Only then, do you realize that you’d been holding your breath since your wife arrived, and you gasp again before you double over and start coughing. You’re shaking by the time you drop the bloodied knife at your feet, and you struggle to catch your breath as your head throbs. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to focus on breathing as Wanda speaks up. You don’t realize that she’s on the phone, until you look up and see that she’s hanging up on them. You sigh and lean back in your seat with a shake of your head. 

“It’s okay. I don-no doctors, okay?” 

Wanda frowns and turns to you briefly before she looks back to the road with a sigh. It’s just light enough in the car for her to see that you’re bleeding, but other than a small scratch on your face, she can’t tell where it’s coming from. She’s also not sure why you’re coughing which is worrying her, but she’s already made arrangements to have a doctor waiting at the house by the time you get back. Instead of arguing with you about this right now, she decides to figure out what she can about what happened. 

“Y/n, where are you hurt? I’ll drive us to the hospital right now unless you tell me.”

This gets your attention and you take a moment to focus on your aching body. Your head hurts probably from being slammed into a brick wall, or maybe the brief oxygen deprivation, and your knees and stomach hurt. It’s not until you mention your stomach that you look down and see that you’re bleeding. 

You’re not sure how that happened, but you can’t be bothered by this right now. You’d rather figure out what the hell happened tonight. 

“What-who were those people?” 

What did they want? 

You don’t bother asking this question because Wanda understands without it. You watch as her grip on the steering wheel tightens as she drives away from town and up toward the mountain road that will lead to your house. You aren’t going to tell Wanda this now because you hope she’ll offer an explanation, but you had a feeling as soon as you sat down for dinner tonight, that something would happen. 

You’re paranoid, for sure, but as soon as you’d reached town and parked, you felt eyes on you. This was confirmed when you noticed the same nondescript car drive by the brewery at least three times. It wasn’t a weekend; parking shouldn’t have been that difficult to find. Then the second hint had been the fact that Bucky had left the restaurant about an hour before you did, and then he never came back. 

You had figured that he was going to wait somewhere else, somewhere still in sight, but apparently he’d been searching for the same tail you noticed. 

“Bucky thinks they were trying to take you for ransom. He tried to track them down when he called me, and they ended up running him off the road.”

Your eyes widen at this and you realize now why Bucky looked so beat up. You make a mental note to check on him tomorrow, but for now you’re just grateful he was able to call Wanda before it was too late. 

You groan under your breath when Wanda pulls into the driveway beside an unfamiliar car. She turns off the car once you’re in the garage, and she comes to your side as soon as you open the door to help you out. You don’t complain or argue because you’re suddenly exhausted, and you just barely remember to retrieve your dog from the backseat. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Maximoff, Dr. Maximoff.” 

You turn so quickly that your neck protests, but the sound of an unfamiliar voice immediately puts you on edge. Wanda turns much slower, and makes sure to keep Boone back when you notice the doctor she’d called to come look at you. You try not to sigh in defeat when you see a woman in a white coat holding a small black bag at her side. You don’t want to be rude, but you really just wanted to lie down on the couch for a minute before falling into bed. 

“Dr. Blackwood. I hope we haven’t kept you waiting long. Please come in.” 

As you are led inside, you see Bucky pull your car up beside the doctor’s. You want to talk to him now, but you have a feeling Wanda won’t let you, and it would also be rude to make the doctor that had already been waiting on you wait any longer. 

You tamp down your urge to go sit on the couch, and instead head to one of the chairs at the dining room table. You sigh heavily as you sit down and watch as Wanda plays the role of a host and anxious partner at the same time. 

Finally, after returning with a glass of water for you, despite your desire for something stronger, she sits down in the chair beside you and waits for the doctor to finish setting up. It’s only then that you notice her outfit. She hadn’t changed from what you’d seen from the picture she sent you hours ago. She was still wearing sweatpants, and a flannel shirt that you easily recognized. You reach out for her with a smile and tug at the hem as you meet your wife’s gaze.

“This is mine.” 

Wanda just smiles at you before reaching up to wipe some of the dried blood from your cheek. Now that she can see you better, she immediately notices your bruised jaw and the dark angry marks around your neck. She regrets not shooting everyone when she realizes what some of the sounds she’d heard through the phone meant. She glances down at your bloodied shirt just as Dr. Blackwood finishes setting out everything she’ll need. 

“Dr. Maximoff, would you mind removing your jacket so I can examine you?” 

You tell her that she doesn’t have to call you that, but the look on her face although appropriately polite tells you she’s not going to drop the formality. Not in front of Wanda. You decide it’s not worth arguing about, and you shift slightly as Wanda reaches out to help you take off your coat. You smile appreciatively before you sit up and move to the edge of your chair. 

The next few minutes are silent as the other doctor in the room listens to your heart and lungs and looks at your injuries. The scratch on your face isn’t serious, just annoying, and Wanda helps clean this one up as you hold up your shirt for the blonde to look at where you accidentally cut yourself. It’s deep enough to need a couple of stitches, and you try not to sigh in annoyance at the fact that you basically did this to yourself.

You’re trying to distract yourself from the sting of alcohol when you hear the garage door close. You look up just in time to hear the mudroom door open and Boone jump to his feet. There’s no growling though and Wanda doesn’t seem concerned so you aren’t either. You figure it’s Bucky or Steve, but when no one makes an appearance, you figure they’re waiting until you’re fixed up to discuss what happened. You listen to Boone pant for a bit before he comes back into the room to lie down on the rug in front of you. He’s able to watch you and the doctor from here, and you watch as he rolls onto his back with a yawn. 

You focus on your dog and do your best to check for any injuries from a few feet away. You grimace a little when the first stich is put in and you try to focus on the feeling of your wife’s hand running up and down your back. You jump in surprise and then curse when Fletcher suddenly appears in front of you, and it takes all of your self-restraint not to curse her out. She just looks at you expectantly before flicking her tail in your face as she walks by you to get to Wanda. 

“Do that again and I’m going to take you in for your annual visit early, Fletcher.” 

Your wife’s cat just ignores you and Wanda shakes her head and does her best to ignore her cat so as not to encourage her bad behavior. Eventually the tabby gets bored and leaves, and luckily by this time you’re all stitched up.

“Those can come out in a couple of weeks. I’ll leave you something for the pain. It will help with your neck too. Other than a sore throat for a couple of days, there shouldn’t be any lasting, physical damage.” 

You oddly appreciate the blonde’s precise wording and you just nod in response as you lower your shirt over the bandage. You see Bucky appear in the doorway and you smile before turning your attention back to your doctor. You can’t wait to get something to eat and then take some pain medication that will hopefully help you fall asleep. 

“Thank you, Dr. Blackwood.” 

The blonde nods before asking if you or Wanda have any questions. When you both shake your heads, she packs up and stands to leave. She half nods, half bows to Wanda and you can’t help but find it ridiculous. Bucky escorts the doctor out and Boone jumps to his feet when you stand up with a sigh. 

You turn to your wife with an apologetic look before you reach for her hand and bring it to your lips. 

“I’m sorry. I’m extremely rude. Thank you for saving my ass out there.”

Wanda can’t help but roll her eyes at you before she leans in to kiss your uninjured cheek. She doesn’t blame you for the delayed thanks. She figures you’re still a little rattled and just wanted to get you taken care of. She hates that you were hurt because of her, but she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t proud of you for holding your own. She’s just grateful that your kidnappers were relying on stealth and didn’t shoot you. 

“Of course, detka. I’m always up for saving your ass.” 

This time you roll your eyes and Wanda laughs as you mutter something under your breath. She simply watches as you greet your dog before kneeling so you can get a good look at him. She glances over your shoulder when Bucky reappears and she can’t help but smile when she realizes that he had taken the time to get a couple of stitches too. 

She knew they had to talk about what happened tonight, and how she was going to respond. She had learned a long time ago that incidents like these were inevitable, and the best she could do was prepare everyone for them. Maybe you needed to train a little more when you were healed. She’d ask you about it later. For now, she just wanted a few minutes to ignore the sense of impending doom, and watch you play with your beloved dog. 

Masterlist

[honeytama]

Make Your Move - Chapter 1

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

Fic Masterlist

A/N: Very excited to begin my first long fic! Enjoy <3 I'd love to know what you think. I have an idea of how long it will be, but maybe I’ll have more ideas as we go on.

Fic Summary: Having known Matt for a year already, he knows your talents and hires you as his assistant for Bad Omens' upcoming tour. You’ve had a crush on Matt, your friend, and now boss. However, his good friend and your celebrity crush, Noah, takes a liking to you the second you step through the door. What happens when your feelings develop? What happens when they find out? You only hope your heart doesn’t break trying to care for two others.

Content and Warnings for Ch. 1: Fluff, mention of sex toys/masturbation, all of my works are 18+ only

Word Count: 2.7k

Matt called the other day.

“Y/N, do you happen to have plans from June 3rd to July 7th?” He asked.

You remember him asking you, but at that moment you didn’t even process what he had said before responding, “Whatever you need, I’m all yours!”.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. He was cocky, overly flirtatious, and arrogant some of the time, but he had an effect on you that didn’t waver.

You wanted every moment to be around him and didn’t consider the amount of responsibility he would put on you in the upcoming months.

It’s the beginning of April and you agreed to be Matt’s assistant tour manager on Bad Omen’s summer tour. Their full tour route has already been posted online and fans could begin buying tickets by the end of the week.

Today, you have to meet with Matt and the band for the first time to discuss tour logistics. Tour production, mixing, and lighting were nothing new to you, but you'd never gone on the road before, let alone with a band you'd never met… in person, at least. You're a Bad Omens fan– big time.

Matt and you have known each other for a year having met while you were on a walk. His dog, Zeus, had got off-leash and sauntered on toward you. It was fate the way the world brought him to you. He thanked you for grabbing Zeus’ collar before noticing your Bad Omens merch.

“I like your shirt,” he nodded at your chest with a smirk.

“You're their tour manager,” you said with wide eyes.

“Among other things,” he smiled.

The man had you wrapped around his finger starting that day.

You two exchanged numbers and have been hanging out and talking ever since. It was your favorite to go on walks with him and his dogs when he was home from tour. He flirted with you and with every hand touch and compliment it made your affection for him grow. However, you knew he was a ladies' man and decided to keep your feelings secret early on.

Now, he’s your boss.

—

The walk from your car to the door of the studio felt a mile long. The beat of your heart thumped in your ears as you thought about how your first meeting would go.

Would they like you? Would you do well or make a fool of yourself? Would they notice you had a crush on Matt? Will they just think you're his puppy to play with on tour?

These thoughts made your stomach lurch and nearly convinced you to dial Matt to call in sick.

Nevertheless, you wanted to prove yourself to them, so you put on your best smile and turned the door knob.

You were immediately met with a packed room and heads turning to meet you.

“There she is!” Matt exclaims while leaning against the long mixing console. “Everyone, this is Y/N. My new assistant.”

“Hell knows you needed one,” Folio gets up from the couch on the side of the room and goes to shake your hand.

“I’m Nick,” he points to another guy in the corner in a rolly chair, “he’s Nick, too. So, it’s ok for you to call me Folio.”

Nick, Nicholas Ruffilo as you know him, gives you a smile and a small wave before returning to his laptop screen.

“That’s Jolly,” Folio points to a rugged man sitting on the rug on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiles.

“And this is Noah,” Folio walks over to Noah and pats his shoulder.

“Hey,” he waves.

How can he be even hotter in person? You thought.

Being a fan of the band already, you had already attached their names to their faces, and Noah’s was your favorite. You thought he was attractive and started to develop a bit of a celebrity crush on him when you discovered the band, but once Matt came into the picture you thought it best to ogle over someone tangible. Now, Noah is really in front of you and you hope your fan feelings won’t make things complicated.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m such a fan,” you say, professionally.

“Oh! You’re a fan! Matt, you picked a good one,” Folio grins.

You make your way across the room toward Matt to hug him. You couldn’t help feeling eyes on you from the direction of the couch, but your conscience convinces you to ignore it.

Matt embraces you before telling you to take a seat in the rolly chair beside him.

“Alright, my friends,” he claps. “Now that we’re all here, we have a lot to do. Y/N, I sent you our to-do list, mind getting that out for me?” Matt nods toward the laptop in your tote bag.

“You’re already giving orders? It’s day zero,” Nick whines.

“Treat her like an equal, man,” Noah is lighthearted, but his face says “Don’t do this right now”.

“Guys, I’m kidding,” Matt groans and pulls out his phone. “Ok, so we need to source crew, talk to management about who else is on the bill, create video wall graphics, arrange a setlist, mix intros for each track in the setlist… plus lots and lots of other shit.”

You smile across the room to Noah and mouth, “Thank you”.

He winks at you before looking down at his notebook and beginning to take note of Matt’s list.

Matt continues, “Noah, do you want to finalize the setlist? We can work on some other stuff while you get that done.”

“Actually,” he raises his head from his notebook to make eye contact with you, “I would love to have Y/N’s opinion on what I have so far.” He faces Matt, “She’s a fan and it would be nice to have some insight from someone else who enjoys our music.”

“I like that idea,” Matt agrees.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you say excitedly. Time to prove yourself, you thought.

“Sweet,” Noah says. He gets up from the couch with his notebook and pen in hand. “We can go out to the patio,” he nods his head at the back door of the studio.

You grab your tote and fix your outfit before following Noah to the door that he so chivalrously holds open for you.

“After you,” he smiles. “Let’s take a seat on the bench.”

The atmosphere completely changes as you can hear birds chirping and cars driving down the nearby highway. The back patio is covered with a finished, wooden awning and it faces a small yard with deep green grass and vines that trail up the fence surrounding the studio. Being here with Noah, alone, it felt like a dream.

You take a seat next to Noah with around two feet in between you. Your heart flutters watching him flip through the pages of his notebook as his hair falls into his eyes.

“There it is,” he announces as he tucks his hair behind his ear, only for it to fall again to his temple.

Noah hands you his notebook and on the open page is a list of songs. Some of them are scratched out and then rewritten, while others have question marks next to them.

“I hope you can read my handwriting,” he says sheepishly.

“I like your handwriting,” you smile, hoping to ease him. Why was he nervous? You thought.

You read aloud,

“Artificial Suicide,

Nowhere to Go,

V.A.N,

Glass Houses,

The Grey,

Never Know,

Limits,

IDWT$,

Like a Villain,

Just Pretend,

The Death of Piece of Mind,

Concrete Jungle,

and Dethrone.”

“This is perfect,” you gush. “The fans will love this show. I know I will.”

Your praise earns you a toothy smile from him. “Are you sure there is nothing you would change? You can be critical. I can take it,” he leans in urging you to say anything.

“You–,” you blush, “you forgot to add my favorite song.”

“What’s your favorite?” He’s still so close to you, yearning to hang onto every word you say.

You reach across his lap to pull the pen out of his hand. His gaze follows your hand to his notebook. The pen is brought to the page of setlist ideas and at the very bottom, you scribble If I’m There.

Noah laughs and rubs the tops of his thighs. “Really?”

Taken aback by his reaction, “‘Yes! What do you mean, ‘really’?”

“Hey,” he smiles with his hands up, “it’s a great song. I know the fans love it…” He holds up his forefinger, “But, one, we haven’t played it live in forever.” He holds two fingers to you and laughs, “Two, you put it as the third encore after Dethrone.”

You laugh along with him. “Fine, no If I’m There for the fans I guess,” you tease. “I just was thinking about when you and Jolly did an acoustic live stream during quarantine and played it. The song means a lot to me and your voice sounds amazing in it, of course,” you admit.

Noah bites his lip and fixes a steady gaze on your eyes. “Thank you, that means a lot. Maybe you’ll share with me what it means to you sometime?”

“Sure,” you nod.

“How about, when we’re on the road and you’re feeling down,” he looks off to the yard, “you say the word and I’ll play the song for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

“Why?”

“I want to sing it again; the song means a lot to me, too,” he looks to you.

–

“Matt,” you call out, “am I going to be feeling down when we're on the road?”

It was now almost two months later and the first show of the summer is in two days. This morning, Matt is over at your apartment helping you pack for your first tour trip. You have to leave to meet everyone at the tour bus to pack everything up and head out by noon.

“Feeling down,” he pauses, “like, sad? Where’d you hear that?” He comes out of your restroom with your travel bottles and extra toiletries in his arms.

“It was a passing comment that Noah made when we first met. I’ve been thinking about it ever since,” you look down at your suitcase on the bed.

“I’m sure he didn't mean to freak you out. But,” he opens up your mini bag to set everything inside, “yeah, it can get lonely.”

“Aw, you get lonely?” you tease. “Then, I’m glad I’ll have my best friend on the road with me,” you smile at him.

“Yeah, me too,” he smiles back at you, “Noah and I are going to be hanging out a lot.”

“Fuck off”, you flick the brim of his hat. Letting out a sigh, you ask, “Do you think I have everything I need?”

“Lemme see…” He hunches over your suitcase and rummages through the piles of clothes. It’s a minute later that you realize that he’s probably putting his hands all over your underwear. “Y/N.”

“What?” You ask. He’s still hunched over, unwavering. “Matt, what is it?” You repeat urgently.

“What are– Why do you have these?” He turns around to you holding your palm-sized vibrator in his left hand and your pink, five-inch dildo in his right.

“Matt!” You reach forward trying to grab them, but he pulls back. “Oh, my God!”

“You can’t bring these!” He yells waving around your personal items.

“I can do whatever I want! Give them back!” Your cheeks feel red hot as you try to reach for your things being held above his head.

He looks down at you with fire in his maple eyes. “You’re going to be staying on the bus with us. When did you think you were going to use these?” He laughs, and you hate it when he’s right. Honestly, you questioned why you even bothered to pack them, too.

“None of your business, Matt,” you huff letting your arms down, defeated. “I just thought, like, what if we got hotel rooms at some point during the tour and I could blow off some steam.”

“And, you thought that you’d get a room to yourself?” Matt laughs, annoyingly. He hands you the toys and you throw them into the bag in frustration.

“I have to room with you boys the entire month?” You whine. “How am I supposed to change my clothes?”

“You’ll have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I don't mind if you change in front of me,” Matt smirks.

“You would like that, huh?” You jab.

“Y/N, watching you change would be my favorite show; better than any Bad Omens set, and I’m great at my job,” he taunts.

“You’re gross,” you scoff.

“You love me,” Matt relaxes on your bed.

He’s right, you think.

–

The sun was out again outside of the studio. You reminisce about spending time with Noah on the patio two months ago, and there were only a couple of days you spent alone time with him since then. Each time, you try to brush off the sense of guilt you have when Noah looks at you with his almond eyes; Matt is still unaware of the celebrity crush you had on his friend. Even though Matt isn't yours, you still liked and knew him first and it made it feel wrong to give Noah the attention you did.

Though, there’s no time to focus on that now. Today is your first official day of being Matt’s assistant and assistant tour manager for Bad Omens.

You met everyone: crew, the other touring band, Bad Omens, and Matt outside of the studio where the tour trailers and buses were parked. With your suitcase by your side, you kept track of everything on your iPad. You instructed where everyone was meant to be by the first show day and took inventory of all gear kept in the trailers.

And then after forty-five minutes of organization, everyone was ready to load onto the buses.

“Alright,” Matt calls out, “crew and our other band, you'll be in the first bus. My guys and Y/N, we’ll be in the second. Decide on your sleeping arrangements. Let’s go.”

“You ready?” Folio comes to your side.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” you answer.

With that, you load onto the second bus, and you’re astonished at the sight before you.

The bus is long. There’s a kitchenette with cabinets as you enter and a TV hanging above the entrance of the bus. After the kitchenette, the bus is lined with smooth, black leather couches and one small table for dining. There's a sliding door that separates the bunks from the rest of the bus; six beds total, two sides of the bus set with three bunks on top of each other. After the bunks, there is another sliding door that can block off a room with a leather couch that lines the walls of the bus. The back is decorated with pillows and twinkly lights from which you can see.

“Y/N, take your pick of bunk. I’ll sleep near wherever you choose.” Matt suggests.

You choose the second bunk on the right side of the bus. Matt chooses to sleep above you and Folio follows suit below you. As everyone is settling in, Noah trails in last.

He’s left with the second bunk on the left side of the bus, right across from you.

“Hey, neighbor,” he smiles as he puts his backpack in his bunk.

“Noah,” you blush while unpacking your blanket, pillow, and plushies onto the bed.

Matt finishes unpacking his sleeping gear and leans against the wall to address all of you, “Now that we’re back, I just need to remind everyone about the rules of the bus.”

Nick groans from his bunk near the floor.

“Well, actually, y'all know there’s only one rule,” Matt maintains eye contact with you. “No pleasuring oneself or another on the bus.”

Oh, my God, you think.

"I hate you", you silently mouth to Matt.

Beside you, Noah chuckles and crosses his arms. Turning to look at him, his cheeks are pink.

Did Matt fucking tell him something? You thought.

Matt raises his eyebrows at you. “Driver! Let’s roll.”

[jobean12-blog]

Finding Home (10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Animal Rescue AU)

Word Count: 1,887

Summary: You and Bucky make a big decision and you're overwhelmed with happiness... for everything.

Author's Note: So this is the final chapter for my Finding Home story with Animal rescue!Bucky! I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this but then the Buck's and Noble server Summer Send Off Event gave me a great idea (using the song September, by Earth, Wind and Fire-listen HERE) on how to end it and my sweet friend @newgirlintheneighborhood sent me THIS great post that just made it all come together. Thank you all for the inspo. You can definitely read this as a stand alone but I will give you a few little bits of info just in case:

-Bucky and Sam own an animal resuce called Shelter to Soldier which helps rescue animals find homes with veterans (and everyone else too)

-Reader first saw Bucky when he was walking Alpine on a leash down the streets of the city

-Bucky has his metal arm in this AU since he's a war hero/veteran and he's come a long way both by himself (with Sam's help) and with reader in their relationship

-He rescued the dog Winter (mentioned in this story) and he's a white German Shepard with three legs (he's a war vet too)

-Bucky rescued Alpine from the streets and the cat has been a big help during his rehab

-This part takes place about 2.5 years after reader and Bucky have met

Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of super soft and sweet fluffs, LotR references, the animals and kisses!

Finding Home Masterlist

The morning light peeks through the thin curtains of your bedroom, warming and illuminating your skin. You slowly open your eyes and see Bucky’s soft profile, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly with his even breathing. Winter is at the base of the bed, keeping your feet warm, and Alpine is perched atop the spare pillow on Bucky’s other side.

The moment you shift your feet you hear the thump of Winter’s large white tail and then feel him rise up and do a big downward dog stretch.

“Oh big stretch Winter,” you coo quietly, giggling as you watch him try to tentatively hop over Bucky’s body to get closer.

Alpine lifts his head and blinks at you several times then seems to glare at the dog who is still desperately trying to find a place to settle between your body and Bucky’s.

Bucky starts to move, his long legs tangling even more with yours as he wraps you up and curls you into his bare chest. Winter finally finds a suitable spot next to Bucky, the dog’s big white body pressed into his side and his tail still thumping on the bed.  

“Mornin’ doll face,” Bucky mumbles as he nuzzles your neck.

Winter let’s out a small whine and pushes his wet nose into Bucky’s skin while Alpine paws at the top of Bucky’s head.

“And mornin’ to you two fuzzballs,” he adds, peeping one eye open to survey the bed.

The moment he locks eyes with Winter, the dog scoots closer like a worm and starts to nose his shoulder. Alpine promptly joins in by chasing the glittering rays of sunshine that dance along Bucky’s metal arm every time the breeze blows through the curtains.

“It’s a party already,” Bucky chuckles.

He pulls you impossibly closer and hums into your skin, placing a soft kiss under your ear.

“Morning baby,” you whisper, inhaling his scent.

Winter, apparently unhappy with the possibility of you two going back to sleep, starts to lick Bucky’s cheek and cover it with kisses. Bucky’s large hand lands on Winter’s head and he scratches him before lightly giving him a shove.

“Winter, down boy,” he says. “I’m busy.”

Winter doesn’t give up, only shimmying closer and becoming more determined in his quest for kisses. You sit up and take in the scene, smiling widely when Alpine starts to bat at a piece of Bucky’s long hair that’s laid out across the pillow.

Without warning you lean down and press a big kiss to Bucky’s other cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile and you continue to pepper his skin with kisses, hitting every spot you can find.

Winter seems to catch on as his tail swishes faster and he keeps up his licks on Bucky’s other cheek. Your lips trail along Bucky’s jaw, then you nibble his ear, then move back down and cover the whole side of his face with more kisses, catching the corner of his mouth before doing it all over again.

“Best. Morning. Ever,” he sighs.

After several more wet kisses from Winter and sweet ones from you, and even a few paw bats from Alpine, Bucky slips free and flips you over onto your back, dislodging everyone in a heap of blankets and pillows.

“Oops,” he says sweetly, but there’s mischief dancing in his eyes. “My turn!”

He pins you down with his body and proceeds to smother you with feather light kisses on every inch of skin he can find. You arch into him, wiggling beneath his body which makes him rumble with pleasure.

His kisses become slower as he moves along your neck and when he reaches your lips he hovers just above them as he stares into your eyes.

He brushes his nose to yours and presses a kiss to your mouth before slowly rocking his hips.

You moan out his name and nibble his lip before pulling away.

“What?” he pouts. “I was just getting started on having you naked.”

You smile against his lips. “I have an idea for a wedding date.”

His pout disappears as happiness takes over his expression.

“I’m listening doll,” he says, but continues to place butterfly kisses along your face.

“So we had talked about Fall and I was thinking September might be nice. Not too cold but hopefully not too hot if we do it toward the end and there’s a special date that would be perfect.”

“Still listening,” he hums as his lips graze your collarbone. “Which date?”

“How about September 22nd.”

He stills, his lips still pressed to your skin. “I know that date,” he muses, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes. 

You nod with a giggle.

“It’s Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday!” he says excitedly. “That is perfect!”

“YAY!!!” you squeal, doing a dance under him.  

He sits up and pulls you into his lap.

“I can’t wait doll,” he whispers.

“Me either Bucky.”

“We just need to find the perfect spot.”

“Exactly.”

You both sit in comfortable and cuddled silence for a few moments before he breaks it.

“What about in Central Park? I bet there’s a tree we could find that’s big like the party tree in the Shire!”

“You’re such a dork and I love you.”

He beams at that but before he can get you under him again, Winter has nosed his way between you two, impatiently asking for love too.

“Alpine and Winter are coming to the wedding of course,” you add.

“Of course doll,” Bucky says. “Besides, I think they would be like Merry and Pippin and invite themselves anyway.”

You bury your head in his chest and laugh.

“So September 22nd is our day,” you whisper, toying with his dog tag.

“September 22nd,” he echoes.

He’s just about to kiss you when your eyes go wide and you yell out, “OH! And we can play that song at the wedding and on every anniversary…you know the one by uh…um…it goes ‘do you remember…’.”

He studies you, waiting for you to think of more.

“Is this a song from Lord of the Rings?” he asks, looking confused.

“No, no, it’s by…OH MY GOD Bucky, it’s an older song…”

As you start to recall the lyrics you sing them and shake your body to the rhythm.

His face brightens in recognition and he grabs his phone, typing quickly into Google.

“Got it,” he chimes just before ‘September’ by Earth, Wind and Fire, starts to play.

You both start to sing along and Winter begins howling with his pack, much to the dismay of Alpine who seems to want to disappear into the pillow.

“Wait!” Bucky says, pausing the song. “Don’t they say the 21st night of September?”

He clicks on the lyrics and rewinds the song, singing along as he reads. “Yep they do!”

“But that’s not Hobbit day!” you say.

“We’re definitely sticking with the 22nd baby doll. It’s perfect.”

In a fit of excitement you curl into Bucky’s arms and kiss him all over. Winter takes the opportunity to smash himself under Bucky’s arm and even Alpine saunters over to join in the happy cuddle pile.

~September 21st of the next year~

“You need…”

Those are the only words you get out before Bucky’s mouth is on you again, your body pressed into the wall and his hands wandering under your shirt.

“Bucky,” you gasp, gently pushing on his chest. “You need to go. Nat will be here soon and then we’ll never hear the end of it!”

He pulls away slightly but lifts his arms so he can plant both his hands along the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “This is the last night before you’re officially my wife and I want to make it count.”

“We spent all day making it count,” you giggle, grabbing his shirt and pulling his mouth back to yours.

Your fingertips trace the broad width of his shoulders before delving into the hair that hangs loosely at the nape of his neck.

“Thought I needed to go doll face,” he smirks against your lips in between kisses.

His metal fingers dance along your skin, inching higher until he’s toying with the little boy in the center of your bra.

“I should never have agreed to this girls night,” you pout.

He nibbles on your extended bottom lip before deftly unhooking the clasp of your bra.

“Now who’s whining,” he teases.

“Buck!” you squeak. “Fix that!”

“Well, lemme see here,” he starts with a grin before he lifts your shirt so he can stick his head under it.

Instead of fixing your bra he kisses your skin as he loosens the silky fabric more.

“BUCKY!” you admonish playfully as you try and push his head out. “You’re stretching out my shirt!”

“It’s my shirt,” he says from inside, his voice muffled.

There’s a loud knock on the door followed by Nat’s excited shouting.

“Shit,” you grumble. “Shit, shit.”

Bucky reluctantly pulls his head free but not before he has you pinned to the wall again and he quiets any of your protests with his kiss.

When he pulls away you’re breathless and flustered.

“I’m going out the fire escape,” he says with a wink.

“What?!? You can’t do that!” you whisper shout.

“Better than getting yelled at!” he says as he grabs your hand and rushes into your bedroom and to the window.

He opens it and then turns back to you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless all over again.

“I love you. More than anything. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you the most Bucky. I can’t wait either.”

With one more kiss he slips out the window and starts to climb down. The banging on the door becomes louder but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Give Alpine and Winter kisses for me!” you shout down to him. “And Sam too!”

You giggle when Bucky gives you a scowl.

“Sam will be lucky if I don’t punch him,” Bucky jokes. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure the babies are well loved and ready for tomorrow!”

Once he safely reaches the ground he looks back up and blows you a kiss, mouthing ‘I love you,’ before running down the street toward Sam’s apartment.

You watch until he’s out of sight then rush to the door and open it.

“It’s about time!” Nat screeches. “Is he here!?!”

“NO!” you say and throw up your hands in surrender. “It’s just us girls. Not even Alpine and Winter are here!”

She pushes past you and looks around suspiciously.

After a thorough inspection she turns back your way, one eyebrow lifting to her hairline.

“WHAT!?” you ask, going to cross your arms over your chest.

You stop mid gesture, realizing your bra is still unhooked and hanging off you under your shirt.

Nat stares at you and you stare back but it only lasts a few seconds before you both burst into laughter.

Once you’re calm again, Nat asks, “he just left didn’t he?”

“Down the fire escape,” you giggle.

“I knew he was perfect from the moment we saw him walking Alpine across the street,” she states with a warm smile.

“Me too,” you reply dreamily. “Me too.”

@blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @goldylions @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @book-dragon-13 @lizette50 @mazarinqueen @matchat3a @abigailbeloved @pineprincess @lalalalokii @blossomedfloweroflove @danireal17 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @buckybarnessimpp @mugi-chwan95 @hibernocaledonian @gloriouspurpose01 @adoringsebstan @aedicn @thepurpletie797 @buckrecs @openup-yourmind @lettersandsodas @kingfleury @moonlightreader649 @kmc1989