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Safest with You - Ch. 16 (The Matchup)

8.4K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din comes out of retirement for an unsanctioned boxing match.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Poe is Poe, light violence (non-graphic), boxing match physicality described (by someone who doesn't really know anything about boxing), some machismo and testosterone fueled talk, allusion to thigh riding, semi public sex, established relationship, oral (m receiving), light face fucking, unprotected PiV, recorded sex, panty gag, dirty talk, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), degradation (slut/whore; affectionate), Paz and Din each give reader a little boost/lift once, reader wears a dress.

A/N: Oof! The word count on this one really got away from me - mainly cause it got dirty as heck at the end 🫥 Hope the tension between the clans comes through even though this primarily devolved into filth🤞🏻 And if anyone is wondering, my hc for Al's attack command is "Dracarys" 🤭🤭 Dividers by the awesome @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

(I think this is my favourite chapter I've written 🥹 It used to be The Drycleaner, now I think it's this one.)

“Pretty bird, everything will be okay.”

It seems like unretiring is all the rage these days. First, with the amount of time Din’s been spending working with the Mandos to help contain the recent unrest, you basically consider him to have unofficially unretired. And now this: an unsanctioned boxing match. You could kill Poe.

There had been a commotion brewing outside Mando’s when you approached with Al earlier this afternoon. From a few blocks away, you saw two men facing off, speaking aggressively - the tension in their body language evident even from a distance. Flanking each man were several others, posed to jump in if the confrontation went beyond words. Once closer, you realized that one of the men having words was Poe and the people standing behind him were Paz and Din - the faces of all three men furrowed and serious.

Remembering what Paz had once said about how he and Din used to have to bail out Poe’s big mouth, you wonder if that’s what’s happening now.

When Din sees you, he takes out his phone and sends off a quick text: Go inside please, pretty bird.

You nod when you see the message and head straight for the side door entrance to Din’s place; you’ve almost got your key in the lock when you hear someone speak out, “Nice to see you again, sweetheart.”

You’re not sure where he came from, but you recognize the slimy sneer of one Gorga Hutt right away. He’s walking towards you without any heed to the situation playing out only a few meters away; from the corner of your eye you see Din turn, ready to come and intervene, but you’ve got this. You’ve just come from Peli’s and listened sympathetically as she ranted about the recent attack of vandalism on her shop, you were not in any mood to tolerate men who enjoyed attempting to intimidate a woman. Whispering the trained command into your dog’s ear, you hold on tight to the leash as Alfredo goes absolutely bonkers, snarling and snapping his jaws while growling viciously. The effect is instantaneous – Al’s booming barks silence whatever is happening between the men in front of the gym, and Gorga quickly rejoins them, forced to walk backwards as you advance, holding taut the leash that’s being pulled by your attacking dog. When you step to Din’s side, you pull up and lean down to pet Al’s head, whispering the stop command he so perfectly learned; and just like that, Al stops barking and sits, the only noises from him are happy pants as he absorbs your praise and ear scratches.

Wordlessly, you give Din a kiss on the cheek and turn to go upstairs to the apartment like you had originally planned. As you get to the front door you hear:

“If only Mando’s boxers had that kind of attack in the ring.”

“Fuck you.”

Poe’s incredulous response is the last thing you hear before the door closes behind you. Upstairs, heart still pounding, you focus on getting Al fresh water and giving him soothing pets to help him calm down. The attack command was one that you had worked hard on with your trainer, but you rarely use it (if ever), because of the stress it puts the dog under.

Din enters the apartment half an hour later to find you and Al snugging on the sofa, your face buried in the soft neck scruff of your dog while he rests his snoozy head on yours.

“Hey pretty bird, you and Al okay?”

“Mhhmmmm,” you mumble, face full of fur. You feel the couch dip near your head as Din sits down and then you feel his big rough hands start to gently stroke your hair; you’re positive Al is getting the same treatment. When you look up, you’re stunned to see that Din has the beginnings of a swollen lip and a little cut near the upper left corner of his mouth.

“Din!” you immediately sit up and scramble into his lap to check the rest of him over.

“I’m okay, baby, don’t worry. This,” he points to his lip, “is friendly fire. Courtesy of an overexcited Poe.”

“Geez Louise,” you shake your head, “but it ended with fists, whatever was going on downstairs?”

Sighing, Din leans back and presses the heel of his palms to his eyes, “As it often does when Poe gets feisty.”

Apparently, when Poe had pulled up to the gym today, he had spotted two lower-level Hutt family members milling around on the same block, seemingly doing nothing. Tensions running high from the recent incidents of mischief, Poe had accused them of having less than innocent motives for hanging out where they were. The shouting match escalated to where a few Mandos had come out from the gym to see what was happening and a few Hutts had driven up to back up their brethren.

Then, apparently, Poe had been likened to a chihuahua whose only useful purpose was to “use his yap” to summon his guard dogs, which had set off a string of verbal diatribes where Poe, defending his little chihuahua honour, had disparaged the physical prowess and effectiveness of the Hutt family’s own “dogs” and the lackluster success of their business ventures. Being Poe, he needled in on the Hutt’s inability to produce any serious contenders on the boxing circuit recently, a known sore spot for the Hutts. This led to a proverbial pissing contest where Hutt and Mando’s past and current fighters were compared, more insults were thrown, eventually escalating until the Hutts decided that they would very much like to demonstrate some of these fighting skills that they were being accused of lacking.

You had shown up and left right before things had gotten physical.

A short fisticuffs then ensued where the main challenge for Din and Paz had been holding Poe back and making sure he didn’t get beat; an errant swing from Poe when Din had pulled him away to avoid an incoming punch was responsible for Din’s swollen lip.

By now, you’ve retrieved a little bag of ice and are holding it up to Din’s lip as he tells you how it all ended. While still struggling in Paz’s arms, Poe had spit out a challenge: any fighter from Mando’s gym could take on the Hutt’s best fighter, weight class or fight experience be damned. Gorga had sneered, ‘Any?’ before proposing a bout between the Hutt’s current top fighter and Din, knowing that it’s been years since Din fought professionally. Caught up in his own pride and that of the Fetts and Mando’s, Poe had shook on it.

You’re in shock. You don’t even know anything about the other fighter, but you can’t imagine it’s fair to pit someone who’s in the prime of their career against someone who hasn’t seen the inside of a competitive ring for years, no matter how good of a fighter they are.

“How are you so calm about this?” you’re already filled with anxiety and worry. Din takes the bag of ice from you and sets it aside, raising your hand to his lip, he gives your knuckles a few ginger kisses.

“Pretty bird, everything will be okay. It’s a fight. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. I’ll train, I’ll fight, I’ll win. Sure, it might be harder or different than it used to be, but I’ll train harder, fight harder, win harder. My body knows how to do this.”

That’s true, you suppose. Din’s in excellent shape, it’s not like his body’s been languid and idle; he’s not starting from square one, he just has to remind his body what it needs to do to win. “Okay,” you breathe, “so we train.” Din smiles and repeats back to you, “We train.”

And train he does. Over the next several weeks, Din’s regimen is strict - his daytime work at the gym is replaced with physical training: cardio for endurance, weights for strength, sparring with each and every boxer at Mando’s to keep his technique on its toes. He’s given some reprieve from any nighttime security duties so he can get the rest his body needs, and for this you’re infinitely grateful.

Sadly, you have to stop baking sweet treats for the gym, but instead, spend your time in the kitchen making high protein and carb-based meals to help Din bulk up and stay lean. You bemoan whenever a little bit of his soft tummy disappears. You and Al practically move in during this time so that Din stay focused, but mainly so you can take care of him; you suspected that with all the training and prep for the match, Din would neglect proper self care at the end of his tiring day. After a long day of training, you make sure he takes long soothing baths to relax and soothe his overworked muscles, and not just short showers to get cleaned quickly. When you start to notice that Din’s daytime showers are leaving his hair dry from the constant shampooing, you bring over your expensive salon-quality hair care products and condition his locks and massage in hair masks all while he lays in the steaming water, eyes closed with his head on your chest. After you dry him off, Din grinning the entire time you very meticulously rub him down, you’ll wrap the towel low on his hips and shoo him to the bedroom with instructions to lay facedown on the bed.

Lathering him up in massage oil, you push and pull at the long lines of his muscles, working out the tension and kneading his knots, victorious when you feel him melt under your firm and loving touch. You work your nimble fingers down the strong, corded muscles of his arms and the broad expanse of his back, paying extra attention to where his smooth skin dimples at the base of his spine.

You work diligently and attentively as you straddle his bare ass, and though your intentions are altruistic, inevitably, Din will feel your wetness even through the slippery oil you’ve massaged over his backside. That’s when he’ll catch you off guard - flipping you over and pinning you beneath him with the weight of his body within the cage of his strong arms.

Some nights you’ll let him win, allowing him to smirk, “Your turn, pretty bird,” before giving him access to your body and letting him pull the most delicious orgasm from you with his talented mouth and fingers. As a follow-up, he rails you face down into his mattress, leaving you crying and drooling as you come, fluttering around his cock before he paints your walls white.

Other nights, you’ll gently scold him before slowly rolling him back onto his front and climb back on top of him, continuing to massage his overworked body with your hands - pressing and warming his muscles under your skilled fingers as you grind yourself down on the back of his thigh until you come. Then, and only then, will you let him roll onto his back, just so he can watch you sink your dripping wet cunt down onto his weeping cock and ride him until you both see stars.

The night of the fight finally arrives and you think you and Poe are more nervous than anyone else. It’s not that you doubt Din’s skill or fighting prowess, you’re just anxious knowing there’s some Hutt in the building whose sole goal tonight is to beat the shit out of your boyfriend. You’re in the back hallways of the venue where you first met Greef and Jimmy many months ago, but this time you’re the one who led people down the hall to meet the group. Bea and Lala are here with you tonight, to cheer on Din of course, but mainly as your emotional support; they know how much this matchup has been stressing you out. Thankfully, as you watch Greef and Din laughing with Jimmy and Paz, and all the Mandos getting hyped for the fight, you find yourself getting swept up in their enthusiasm.

When the time comes for you to go to your seats, you sidle up to Din and gentle pull him away from the group so you can have a little privacy.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” you whisper, lifting up on your tip toes while you pull him down with gentle hands around his neck.

Pressing his forehead to yours, Din closes his eyes, reveling in this moment of calm with you before what is certain to be a night of chaos, “Thank you, pretty bird. Couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“You’re gonna do great, Din. You’re my killer.” Your lips ghost his and Din sucks in your breath, pulling you closer with his wrapped hands spread wide across your lower back, “… and when you win…”

“You gonna give me a prize, sweetheart?” Din smiles against your mouth.

You nod into his mouth, “… I’ll let you take your prize right in this locker room here.” The two of you both glance at the door next to you before reuniting your lips for a deep, searing kiss that manages to simultaneously reassure and ignite an electrical current within you.

“Hey! Save that for after the fight!” yells Greef. You and Din break apart with a chuckle and you leave him with a “Good luck, killer! I love you!” blowing him a kiss before taking off down the hall with your friends and Paz.

---

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Despite this being an unsanctioned match, spectators have showed up in droves - drawn in by Din’s celebrated fight history, the underlying clan rivalry, or both.

When Din and the contingent from Mando’s make their ring entrance, the noise level crescendos; you hold on tight to Bea and Lala’s hands and catch Paz’s eye with your own, shining bright with pride as you cheer loud. Somehow Din discerns your voice over the clamour and as he passes your row looking calm and formidable, he finds you and his eyes soften just long enough to throw you a wink before settling back into a steely glare. Jimmy, on the other hand, follows behind Greef all pumping fists and testosterone fueled howls. He hypes up the crowd even more, reaching in to fist bump you and the girls before accepting a hair tousle from Paz’s long reaching arm.

The crowd remains loud but slightly more subdued for the entrance of Din’s opponent, Rotta Hutt. He’s young, around Jimmy’s age, but way bigger than both Jimmy and Din. He’s Din’s height if not taller, with most of his heft on display as a wall of muscle in the upper half of his body. His arms are tree trunks. His face is impassive but you spy a small curl of a sneer framed by his clean-shaven jaw; all of this topped with a mop of blond hair swept over the front of a high forehead. He looks… sturdy and you can’t help but recoil a little in your seat when you recognize the same sluggish look that you find is common among the Hutts that you’ve met. Lala and Bea both make faces that clearly indicate where their loyalties lie. Paz points out Rotta’s coach who’s walking close behind the boxer, hands on the boy’s shoulders, whispering in his ear, “That’s Ziro Hutt. He’s a piece of shit. Guarantee you he’s telling Rotta to fight dirty and pull some illegal moves on our boy since it’s an unsanctioned fight.”

You look at Paz with alarm, but he’s grinning, “Don’t worry, Lil’ Lady. Din’s got that punk’s number.”

As the fighters go to their respective corners for last-minute pep talks, your gaze shifts over to the crowd on the other side of the ring where you see a continent of Hutts that includes Gorga and his usual lackies. They’re amped and you can feel a sinister charge to the energy emanating from that side of the room.

The fighters and their coaches meet in the middle of the ring with the referee as is customary before the coaches retreat back to their corners for the start of the match, but before that happens, all hell breaks loose. You see Din’s face curl into a snarl before he lunges for Ziro, shoving the slimy man right in his chest with a force that knocks him into the ground; Rotta attempts to retaliate with a punch to Din’s head, and then it’s just a flurry of bodies: the ref trying to get in between, Greef pulling Din off Rotta, Ziro somehow getting up and mixing right back in. The Hutts on the other side of the ring are up on their feet, jeering, some even advancing towards the ring. Paz is on his feet and you see the rest of the Mandos do the same from their seats peppered throughout the stands.

The ref directs everyone back to their corners; you see Greef wrangling Din, turning him to face his corner stool before giving him a little shove in that direction. You don’t know what happened but you know Din must have been provoked; he can’t start the fight in this uncontrolled rage, it won’t fare well if he’s not in a calm, focused mindset. You make your way ringside and reach up, finger tips brushing gently on Din’s arm.

What you didn’t know is that right before the ref was about to send the coaches back to their corners, Ziro had sneered to Din, “When you lose, how about that pretty girl of yours come spend the night with a fighter that isn’t past his prime? Someone who has some stamina?”

Din was still seeing red that that asshole even mentioned you, seething with adrenaline fuelled protectiveness. And possessiveness. His chest is still rising with each heavy breath, agitation rolling over his entire body in waves; he’s barely registering Greef’s words about calming down, when he feels a soft warmth on his arm. He looks down and it’s you. You with your soft smile and pretty eyes, exuding calm and sweetness. Instantly, his breathing evens and his heartrate slows.

“Hey pretty bird, things are getting crazy,” he gives you a little lopsided smile, as if the two of you are the only people in this building, your presence drowning out all the outside noise for him.

You laugh and Din feels his muscles release some tension just at the sound; it’s too awkward for him to lean down and kiss you, but you reach up with both hands and grab on to his wrists, bringing his gloves down so you can lift up and kiss them. A good luck smooch to each, leaving a lipstick imprint of your perfect lips on each. Din grins at you.

“Now when you hit that idiot, it’ll be from the both of us,” you chuckle, and again, it’s like there’s no one else here – just you and Din alone in this yelling crowd, eyes and ears only for each other, “Din, don’t let them get in your head, they don’t want you thinking straight cause they know you’re smarter than all the Hutt braincells combined. Focus and save your energy, killer.”

“You got it, pretty bird,” he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smile, the one that makes your stomach drop every time and tonight’s no exception, you mouth “Love you” before walking backwards to your seat, never breaking eye contact with your man as he mouths it back.

By the time the ref calls the fighters back to the centre of the ring to touch gloves, Din’s back to his steely cool self, focused and calm - ready to take on the world. He looks so fucking good, the lights shining off his broad shoulders, the strong lines of his muscles flexing and pulsating with each breath. You mourn the loss of his soft stomach, but suppose if you have to live with this harder trunk of an upper body, you will. You sigh and Bea leans over to tell you that you’re drooling a little – you giggle out loud.

The ref announces, rather than requests, that it will be a “nice clean fight”; Din and Rotta touch gloves and with a ding the fight starts.

For the first few rounds, you’re learning Rotta’s fighting style and you know Din is doing the same, getting a feel for the younger man’s style, ticks and weaknesses. Rotta’s light on his feet for someone so big, but Din is faster. Though Din is older and the frame that he has to move is just as large, his experience in the ring has his muscles well trained, his moves executed by memory alone. Din anticipates where Rotta will be before Rotta even knows, and his body just follows.

It’s clear by the third round that Rotta favours a right hook, which Din finds easy enough to deflect and more than once is able to combine this knowledge with the Mando roll to devastating effect. You cheer loudly when you watch Din extend his long right arm in a precisely landed cross punch, retracting it lightning fast with grace as Rotta staggers backwards.

Where Rotta is a threat is his sheer power - pound for pound, punch for punch, he’s Din’s match. His size and bulk have the potential to inflict real damage, if Din wasn’t the overall better fighter – Din’s experience and technique are too well honed; Rotta is consistently caught off guard by Din’s moves, and his own in response are amateurish and predictable. And he’s getting tired - the Mando Roll is making quick work of him. Poe was right – the Hutt's best boxer couldn’t hold a candle to a Mando’s boxer, certainly not this one.

By the time the 8th round starts, Rotta is getting frustrated, and as Paz predicted, has started fighting dirty. He’s pushing and shoving Din into the ropes and attempting to hold him, anything to stall the fight and prevent Din from getting in the combinations that would surely finish him off. When Rotta barrels head first into Din’s chest, wrapping his arms around Din’s torso and starts to punch his lower back, you’re on your feet and screaming for the foul call before the ref even blows his whistle. You’re seething - that dirty cheat!! Rushing over to where Din is drinking from his water bottle, you reach up and touch his leg to get his attention. He grins immediately upon seeing you, calming your heart a little.

“You look like you’re going to kill someone, pretty bird,” laughs Din, his voice once again drowning out all the external noise so that it’s just you and him again.

“That neanderthal is going to get it from me if he doesn’t stop with all his dirty shit,” you hiss, though your eyes remain all adoring for Din. Even when sweaty from head to toe, the impressive cut of his body still takes your breath away. Fuck, he’s hot.

“Sounds like I'd be doing him a kindness by knocking him out, then,” grins Din, and the two of you smile at each other dopily, sharing in your little jokes while the crowd around you gets more and more riled up.

“I wish I could reach you,” you lament, pouting.

“Let me help,” Paz has appeared right behind you, no doubt to provide some encouragement for his friend. With your permission, he crouches and wraps his arm around your calves, and after you’ve steadied your hand on his shoulder, he boosts and deposits you so you’re sitting on the edge of the ring. You don’t know how much time you have before the match starts again; wasting no time, you reach through the ropes and grab Din’s face, pulling him towards you so you can kiss him through the slit. The kiss is hard, heady and messy, but it’s exactly what you and Din both need. “Put him out of his misery, killer!” you shout back as you jump down, sending Din a wink before leaving him, Paz and Greef to talk shop.

When the fight resumes, Din quickly finds that he’s had enough. The younger boxer isn’t stopping with the illegal moves, starting to throw elbows and attempting to kick. Clearly on the advice of his uncle, Rotta has foolishly decided that if he can’t win fairly, then he will do everything he can to frustrate Din, be it by stalling the fight, attacking him illegally, or messing up Din’s focus like his uncle did at the start of the match. No doubt hoping Din will finally make a mistake and open himself up to a late attack.

After Din gets in two quick jabs that Rotta isn’t fast enough to evade, Rotta staggers back, eyes unfocused, and when he shifts forward again, he spits out, “Your girl is real pretty.”

Din ignores him and hits Rotta square in the jaw with a blinding cross.

Swaying to the side, Rotta doesn’t know when to quit, “She’d look even prettier with my cock in her mou-”

You think you actually hear the sound that Din’s upper cut makes when his glove hits Rotta's chin. The crowd silent as the crushing power of Din’s fist reverberates through the layers between it and his opponent's jaw, the unmistakable sound of bone being crushed rings through the venue.

It’s only with the resounding thud of Rotta’s body hitting the floor of the ring that the crowd reawakens, screaming at an ear-splitting volume - some for the loser to get up, and others in victory. Din looks animalistic, still bouncing on his feet and panting, as if waiting for Rotta to get up. Rotta is not getting up.

After Din is declared the winner of the fight, arm raised high by the ref while still towering over the unconscious body of his opponent laying at his feet, he’s smartly ushered off to the locker room by Greef and Paz. Not that Din's the type to gloat and boast in an unsportsmanlike manner (Poe doing enough of that all on his own at the moment), but the mood in the arena is incendiary at the moment, clearly you’re not the only one that thinks getting out of here is a good idea. That doesn’t stop Din from reaching into your row as he goes by and pulling you in hard by the waist for a bruising victory kiss. In his arms for only a few moments before he has to go, Din lifts you off your feet – his own little trophy to show off as you gaze down at him in adoration, mouthing, “I’m proud of you.”

You and the girls chat excitedly with Bo and Mayfeld as you practically skip back down the back hallway towards where some of the other Mandos and people from the gym are celebrating. Leaving your friends in the capable hands of the Mandos, you sidle past Jimmy who’s standing guard and give him a cheeky grin before you push open the door to the locker room where Din’s currently showering.

When Din steps out of the shower, he’s only mildly surprised to find you there, sitting casually with your legs up on a bench, back against the lockers, strolling through your phone like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to be in a men’s locker room.

Looking up, you feel your heart nearly stop at the sight before you: Din’s looking at you with a devilishly handsome smile, hair still wet from the shower, which he’s lazily toweling off. Another towel hangs loosely over his hips, leaving his massive chest uncovered; droplets of water clinging to the bare expanse of his torso and glisten like tiny diamonds. His arms, loose after his fight, still look powerful even when relaxed, thick muscles corded under his smooth skin. He’s a fucking snack.

You want to climb him like a tree and sink your teeth into his skin; it's not an imagined ache that has you suddenly desperate to feel any and all the muscles in his arms, chest, legs, flex against your pussy while you ride them until you cry.

Spacing out with what must be a look of pure lust written all over your face, you start when Din’s deep baritone cuts through your horny thoughts, “What are you doing here, pretty bird?”

Beckoning him over to you with a curl of your finger, you smile coyly, and when he’s within arm’s length reach, you hand him your phone, “Come collect your prize, killer.”

Looking at you, then back to your phone with a confused expression on his face, Din cocks an eyebrow at you quizzically.

You plant your legs on either side of the bench and reach up and grab onto Din’s hips, guiding him towards you so he’s stands in front of you, similarly straddling the bench. Looking up at him with an innocent doe-eyed expression, you coo, “Let’s make a video, daddy.”

Din’s eyes widen; the two of you had discussed making a sex tape before, but made no concrete plans on when you would film one - apparently, you want to memorialize him claiming his prize for winning the fight. Testosterone and adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Din puffs his chest out, ready to perform.

He opens up the camera app of your phone and swipes to video mode, framing your pretty face on the screen as you smile up at him, he strokes your chin with his free hand, “Ready, pretty bird?”

You nod - when you hear the bloop of the video starting, you dip your chin down to capture Din’s thumb in your mouth and start to suck, eyes never breaking from the camera.

“Such a good girl, here to reward your daddy.”

You smile with your lips wrapped around his thumb as you pull off Din’s towel, his cock already at half mast, bobbing out towards your face. Din removes his thumb from your mouth and brushes your jaw with his fingers, as if to say go on.

Reaching out, you give Din’s length a few experimental strokes in your small grip before bringing him to your lips, gifting his tip a few shy kitten licks.

“Fuck, baby.”

Flattening your tongue, you run it along the underside of his cock from base to tip, lathering him up with your spit; pumping him a few more times you purr to the camera, “May I please suck your cock, Din?”

Din’s groan thunders through his chest, “Show me what you’ve got, pretty bird.”

Your mouth envelope over Din’s cock, taking as much of him as you can to the back your throat, bobbing your head slowly, giving his head a little extra lick when his tip rests between your pretty lips. Feeling him swell and harden in your mouth, you apply a little more pressure, suck him a little harder, a little bit faster, both of your hands working the base of him that you can’t fit in your mouth.

“Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed with my cock, sweetheart.”

You look past the camera and into Din’s eyes, lustful and blown, and decide to really give him a show. Eyes back on the camera, you smile around Din’s dick and place your hands on his thighs to brace yourself before you start to work him down your throat. Once he's hit the back of your throat, when you have to force yourself to push past the resistance, you gag, and you immediately feel Din’s hand fly to the back of your head, as if to provide you some reassurance or to hold you steady. You appreciate both. Forcing yourself to breath through your nose, you relax your throat and push yourself further down on Din’s throbbing cock, spurned on by Din’s moans echoing off the walls of the empty room. When you finally feel the hairs at his base tickle your nose, you open your eyes and find Din staring at the screen of your camera, looking absolutely wrecked. One hand cups and plays with his balls as you give a small hum of satisfaction, proud of taking him all the way; the combination sensation causes Din’s dick to twitch in your throat and you have to pull off, coughing, spit spilling out of your mouth.

Din pets your hair and looks at you with obsidian dark eyes, “One more time, little slut. Wanna feel my cock right here,” and he reaches down to wrap his hand gently around the middle of your neck.

“Can you be good for daddy?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod, but Din wants more for the camera.

“Need my pretty whore to use her words.”

“Yes, daddy. I can be good for you,” you breathe, as you open up your mouth and stick your tongue out as an invitation.

“Goddamit. You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl,” Din taps his fat head on your tongue before feeding it slowly to you. Once again, you use Din’s legs for stability, hugging the back of his thighs as you relax and work his length further down your throat. A little easier this time having already opened up for him, you keep your eyes on the camera as you try to even your breathing, coaxing his dick deeper and deeper. When he’s all the way down, Din runs his thumb gently over the column of your throat, and chokes, “Took me so deep, baby. So fucking good for me.”

Eyes watery with tears already running down your cheeks, you can only blink up at him in a daze.

“Can I fuck you a little, bunny?” Din asks so softly. Such a distinct contrast from the lewdness of having his cock shoved down your throat, you feel his tone hit right in your core where your arousal is already starting to leak; you blink quickly to give your permission.

At first, Din is slow to thrust even a little down your throat, careful not push too much or too harshly should it hurt you; when you blink at him and let the tears rolling down your face tell him that you can take more, he holds you head firm and speeds up a little. The ensuing gulg gulg gulg noises your throat makes bounce off the walls and light up your insides - you start to roll your hips and grind your pussy down on the bench for some semblance of friction.

When Din notices, he pulls out and leaves you gasping and continuing to rub yourself down on your seat. Using the hand not holding the still recording phone to help wipe away your tears and spit, he chuckles, “Does my pretty slut need something between those legs of hers?”

Fresh faced and eyes bright, you’re positively strumming for Din’s touch by now. You lean back on your elbows, bite your lower lips and whimper. That’s apparently enough for Din, as he sits down on the bench, murmuring to himself and the camera, “What do we have up here, little bun?” He pushes up your skirt and takes an upskirt shot of your soaked through black panties, “Looks like my little cumslut is all wet.”

He smirks as he reaches and rubs his thumb over your clit through the fabric, causing you to gasp, “Daddy!”

“I wonder if you’re just as wet under these lacy panties?” He hooks the gusset of your underwear to the side, revealing your glistening cunt and gives a low whistle, “So fucking pretty. Who are you so wet for, baby?”

“You!” you whine, wanting more. Needing more.

“Who? Is this for that other fighter?”

“No! Daddy!”

“Is it for those guys across the ring that couldn’t keep their eyes off of you?”

“No! Din, no! It’s only for you, please!”

“That’s right, this perfect pussy is all mine.”

“All yours, Din! Please, oh god, please touch me…”

“Well since you asked so nice, sweetheart,” Din inhales sharply as he backs up on the bench and leans down to bring himself face to face with your dripping seam. He hands you your phone and smirks, “Gonna need both my hands for this.”

You train the lens onto Din and frame his handsome face in the shot so that everything below the tip of his nose is hidden by your lower body; making sure you’re capturing the moment, Din gives you a wink before diving into your cunt. He eats you like a feral animal who doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from. Licking, sniping, and mouthing at every wave and dip of your core, then pushing your legs up by the back of your thighs so he can press even deeper into you. You cry out and moan with abandon, your hands too occupied with holding the camera and yourself upright to stifle the noise.

“Fuck, yes, Din – fuck I love your mouth,” your screams dancing over the wet sounds coming from between your legs. Din dips his tongue into your tight hole, fucking you with his smooth muscle while his nose bounces off your clit over and over until it’s hard and swollen. The band beneath your belly is starting to tighten, and all the blood in your body rushes to your bottom half so you can’t hold yourself up anymore – you lay down and use all the focus and strength you have left to hold the camera steady with both hands between the valley of your breast. You watch Din’s now dried curls bounce on the screen as he continues to tongue fuck you into another stratosphere.

Your never ending chat of Daddy, daddy, daddy, is broken only by the high-pitched cry you let loose when Din replaces his tongue with two of his thick fingers without warning, you hiss, “Din!” Half scolding, half in ecstasy.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbles, but you can feel him grin against your pussy; the vibration of his words shoot straight to your chest and you feel a fresh wave of slick wash down your inner thighs and Din’s wrist.

“Fucking soak me, pretty bird,” Din commands before sucking your clit into his mouth. The sounds Din is pulling from you are obscene and downright pornographic, you sing obscenities and his name so loud they almost drown out the squelching sounds of his fingers punishing your cunt.

All it takes is for you to look down at the screen of the phone still grasp tight in your hands, take in the vigor with which Din is eating you out, his dark eyes on you as he swirls his tongue over your clit and you’re gone - arching your back off the bench and screaming, “Daddy!” as you gush all over his face. Din continues to finger fuck you through your high, the camera held in your shaky hands capturing the soft butterfly kisses he plants all over your lower stomach while praising you, “Did so good for me, pretty girl. My perfect little slut.”

Sighing a heavy exhale of contentment, you let Din pull you up and kiss you messily, his mouth and scruff shiny with your release. You giggle as you taste yourself on him, putting the phone down so you can cup his face in your hands, helping him clean up even as you make more mess with your hungry open mouth kisses.

“Uh, uh,” Din tuts as he pulls away, pointing at the phone, “pick that up, bunny. We’re not done yet.”

You do as he instructs and pick up the still recording phone and point it at Din, now standing stark naked and holding his hand out to you. “Hang on a sec, killer,” you smirk as you pan the camera over his nude form, your mouth watering as you rake the lens over his broad frame, his bulging biceps and his taut flexed legs. You can't help but zoom in on your favourite parts of his body: his big paw hands where his fingers are currently curling with a twinge of impatience, the little hollow dip at the base of his neck that pulsates when he swallows deeply, like he’s doing now, and his cock, throbbing and angry.

“You done, pretty bird?” Din asks with an edge. Swinging your leg over the bench, you take Din’s hand and gasp when he spins you around quickly, pressing you flush against his back before walking you forwards with your dress bunched up around your waist and his hardness pressed against your ass.

“Liked what you saw, bunny?” he whispers against your ear, crowding you up against the sink and using his hand to lift your elbow so you’re pointing the phone at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

“Yes, Din,” you whisper, leaning back to kiss the underside of his chin.

Din drags the zipper of your dress slowly down your back so that the sleeves of your dress fall down your arms, tugging down the front and revealing your matching black bra to the camera. “I like what I see too,” Din murmurs, as he unclasps your bra and pulls the straps down to meet your fallen sleeves, your tits falling out, nipples already hard and pointing at your reflection. Kissing down the back of your neck, all the way down your spine, Din pulls down your panties and helps you step out of them. When he stands back up, it’s to place the soaked lace next to the sink in front of you, before positioning you, the rest of your clothes still half on, so that you’re bending over the sink, hands braced against the front, your back arched and ass sticking out for him.

You wiggle it a little and whine, “Need your cock, Din.”

He gives you a harsh spank that’s harder than you expected, causing you to yelp as the smack echos into the shower stalls, “Daddy!”

“Get used to it, pretty bird. Daddy’s going to get rough with you now.”

Eyes widening and meeting Din’s in the mirror, you smile and lick your lips, “What’s got you all hot and bothered, killer?”

“Some assholes thought about having you tonight. Talked like they might have a chance with you. Want you to walk out of this locker room with my cum dripping down your legs so everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I’m yours, Din, everyone knows tha-” you’re cut off, breath stolen away when Din sheaths himself into you without warning, bottoming out in one smooth motion. He doesn’t give you a moment to get used to him, just starts immediately fucking into you, driving his cock into your tight hole over and over, punching the deepest parts of you that only he can reach as he pushes all the air out of your lungs. You close your eyes and whimper.

“Eyes open and looking in the mirror, baby. Who’s that pretty slut?”

“Me. Oh Din, fuck, I’m your pretty slut.” You make sure your phone still has the entire mirror in view and that it captures the way he’s thrusting into you, every snap of hips jolting your forward so your tits bounce and your mouth is forced into an open ‘O’.

“That’s right. All mine. And what do you want, pretty girl?”

“Ngh—”

“Words, baby. Not gonna give it to you until I hear you say it,” Din lays another heavy spank to your ass, watching your cheek ripple under his hand as he keeps up his grueling pace.

“Uh – fuck, Din. I- I-, I need you to fuck me, daddy. Fuck me so hard I feel you tomorrow. Take me hard against this sink like a dirty whore. Please, please, daddy, please. Uhhhhhhhh, Din, fuck me pleas-“

“Are you my prize? Is my prize for winning tonight getting to fuck a little whore in the locker room as hard as she can take it?” Smack, smack, smack, your ass reddening as it continues to take the double punishment of Din’s pelvis rutting into you and the blows from his hard hands.

“Harder.”

“Then get louder, little whore. Want everyone in this building to hear you.”

You let loose a whine from the very back of your throat as he snaps back into you with a force that nearly knocks the phone out of your hand. Recovering so that you don’t lose a minute of this lascivious footage, you lean and brace your free hand against the mirror while grinding your ass back, meeting every one of Din’s thrusts.

With the way Din is fucking you - hard and unrelenting, there’s a small part of you that isn’t sure if you can take it, but the sticky mess between your legs says otherwise; you want to please him so much, so you take, take, take, and scream out for more, “Daddy, daddy, fuck! Your cock feels so good, no one fucks me like you!”

“My. Little. Slut.”

“The only whore who take my cock this good.”

“Daddy’s going to wreck this pretty pussy.”

Din knows how much you love his dirty talk, but it’s dirtier than usual tonight. Not fully immune to the aggression and macho bullshit that always permeates the atmosphere of these fights, tonight Din’s possessiveness has an edge, his roughness has bite. Din’s degradation shoots straight to your cunt and your walls flutter around him as you scream in pleasure.

“Changed my mind. Your pretty slut noises are mine too,” Din grabs your panties from where he left them next to the sink and stuffs them in your mouth; you whine a muffled sound like a wounded animal as he keeps the lacy fabric from falling out with his fingers, hooking down the corner of your mouth.

“Pretty little whore with her panties down her throat. Good for cock and nothing else,” Din grunts right into your ear, loud enough for the camera to pick up as well.

“Mmmfffmmmm,” you cry, mouth full and unable to articulate anything as Din drags his fingers down from your mouth, giving your neck a little squeeze when he grazes his hand near the bottom of your throat.

“This throat is mine.”

His hands travel down further until they reach your breasts; he grabs and gropes you roughly before pinching on your nipples, rolling and tugging harshly, “These tits are mine.” Your screams stifled as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you tip your head back to arch into his touch, leading Din to chuckle darkly.

“Always wanting more, my little bunny?” He drives into you even harder when you nod vigorously, eyes glassed over, cock drunk.

Din’s hands drags down your abdomen and cups your pussy. “This pussy is mine,” he growls as he starts playing with your clit. You’re about to black out, your whole body is vibrating, nearing overstimulation – every one of Din’s dirty words nearly taking you out.

“And she comes when I say so,” Din orders with authority into your ear. You look at the screen of your phone that you’ve somehow managed to continue to hold upright, still filming, and stare through hazy eyes at the you in the mirror on the screen: blissed out, tits out and bouncing in time to every hard thrust of Din’s cock, mouth stuffed with your wet panties and crying out against the fabric. You plead to the Din in the mirror with your eyes.

“Come on my cock, baby,” comes the command you’ve been waiting for, and you positively wail as your walls contract and clench down hard around Din’s dick. His arms wrap around your breasts to hold you upright, and you shudder to his stuttering thrusts, held tight and limp against Din’s chest as he pumps his spend into you - not sure how you manage to hold on to your phone as you capture every last moment of shaky footage.

Finally having the mind to press the red button to stop the recording, you place you phone down by the sink and let yourself melt back into Din, letting him pull your lacy gag out of your mouth. He holds you close and presses soft kisses into your check, neck and lips, whispering how good you did for him, how perfect you feel around his cock, how sweet you are to let him fuck you this way. You close your eyes and let him praise you and hold your boneless body.

Soft pledges of love and devotion are shared as Din cleans the two of you up with the towel he was using before, and as you right your lingerie and dress. After Din gets dressed and packs up his gym bag, you share one last tender kiss before walking hand and hand to leave the locker room so you can join your friends for the after party at the bar across the street.

You open the door and slyly peek out, expecting to see Jimmy, but instead, you’re met by Greef wearing a pained expression on his face.

“Hey,” says Din, amused.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” deadpans Greef, “I’ve had to rotate every Mando off this door, none of them able to stand it for more than a few minutes. You’re paying for everyone’s group therapy, boss.”

You giggle, feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you turn and hide in Din’s chest; Din is laughing as Greef walks off in a huff, and calls out, “Take it out of my winnings, Karga!”

Looking up at Din, you crinkle your nose, embarrassed, “Do you think we were really that loud?”

Din chuckles, “Maybe? I guess we’ll never know. Oh wait,” he playfully grabs your waist causing you to squeal, “we could watch the video later and find out.”

The idea of watching your sex tape together has a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your still drenched panties and you squeeze you legs together; your actions don’t escape Din’s attention, and he whispers low in your ear, “Let’s get through the after party first, then we’ll go home and do… what do the kids call it? Right, Netflix and chill.”

You roll your eyes jokingly, “Alright, old man,” already expecting the playful swat on your bum. Squeaking and grinning, you slip your hand back into its rightful place in Dins and tug, almost shyly, "What are we waiting for then, killer?"

Yep, Din thinks, I won.

#din djarin #modern!din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern au #no y/n

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weaselle · 1 year

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dogs

i just want to brag a little actually.

i quit a 20 year career in restaurants to work with dogs as a dog walker, and i’m pretty damn good at it.

First of all, any dog walker who is doing their job right is also a dog trainer. You’re training the dogs that when they walk with you, they cannot pull on the leash, they aren’t allowed to go off noisily on bike riders or other dogs, they have to stay in the van with the side door open until they are invited out one by one to keep them from jumping out where there might be cars until i have a leash on them... i spend basically all day training dogs, or at least re-enforcing the training i’ve already done (but like, a dog that barks and charges other dogs passing by can be like, a six month project, so).

Anyway, i find there are some important little things about the job. For instance, greetings! Greetings are important

So i walk up to ten dogs at once, three walks a day, but at every dog pick up, I do a special greeting with each dog. All the dogs and I work out our own greetings. One I sniff noses with while i give him scritches. Another sits and puts one paw out for me to hold while she sniffs my ear and chin. There’s a little jack russell terrier who screams at me while she tries to climb up onto my shoulders and lick my ears.

Dogs can lick my face within reason, but i set my boundaries firmly at no licking my mouth. And many dogs appreciate being allowed to do more doggish greetings like sniff noses. One dog i walk is half Chow, half German Shepherd, which is ... a mix to keep an eye on. I do not sniff noses with him, because he gets irritated easy, and if he doesn’t like something, he’ll snap at it, and the same snap that would painfully but harmlessly startle another dog might need a lot of stitches if it was my face. He’s a sweetheart tho, he and i really like and respect each other, but you gotta know the dog you’re working with and part of that respect is me not putting my face all up in his face.

Instead, his greeting with me is he stands stoically while i squat next to him and pet his ears and shoulders, then i massage some of the tension out of the thick muscles on either side of his spine, which he sits down for. It almost seems like he’s ignoring me and I used to wonder if he was just humoring me, but then i tried skipping our greeting a couple times and he just wouldn’t move until we did it, which low-key broke my heart in a happy sort of way

The point is, these greetings are important, it sets the tone for the rest of the walk and maintains a strong positive relationship, which is especially important for those days you wind up correcting that dog’s behavior a lot.

Speaking of which, in a pack of 6-10 dogs in public, it is easy to be doing a lot of “stop doing things wrong” interactions, so I make sure to look for positive interactions too. I will sometimes ask a dog i’ve been correcting more than usual to sit, just so that i can tell them they are a good dog for sitting and offer them a little success. Sometimes with new dogs i’ll be correcting them so much i’ll even give them big verbal rewards for peeing or pooping, because after all it is outside where they are supposed to do that, and if i’ve been telling them “no, wrong” for the last 20 minutes we are both getting desperate for a chance at “yes, good”. And when you’re dealing with all that it’s easy to ignore dogs that are doing everything right, so i make sure to tell each dog they’re doing good at least once every walk

I even have one dog, an australian shepherd, who only walks where she’s supposed to without pulling ahead if i notice her doing it right and tell her she’s a good dog a couple times early in the walk; if i don’t remember to, she refuses to walk correctly and spends the rest of the walk pulling

so part of why the greeting is important is because it balances out how much behavior correction i may wind up doing. Every walk, no matter how much they misbehave, or how much my focus is needed elsewhere, we start each day together with “it’s so good to see you, i’m happy i get to spend time with you” and them as the center of my attention, and i think that makes a big difference in the relationship with the dogs

#dogs #my life #dog walking

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andromedism · 3 months

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June 2017

“What’re you doing, bro?”

“I’m twirling!” Charlie yells over the booming bass, a blur of rainbow beads rattling around his neck. They shimmer in the strobe lights, casting specks of refracting light across his army jacket and his upturned face.

The dance floor parts slightly, a red sea of narrow-faced gays scowling at him as he overtakes their space with his revolution. It’s making Mac dizzy, but he needs to stay sharp.

“He’s twirling!” Dee confirms. She’s swaying at Mac’s side, a large rainbow flag tied around her neck. One of her gaudy fake lashes is sticking to her eyelid.

They’re both tipsier than Mac; the stale beer tolerance they’ve built up at Paddy’s is an unworthy match for the dangerously fruity drinks The Rainbow hands out like candy during Pride. Mac’s a pro by now and can knock back watermelon daiquiris with the best of them, but tonight isn’t the night for dicking around.

He grips Charlie’s shoulder, stopping him. “Take it easy. You don’t wanna pull trig on the dance floor, dude. People’ll get pissed.”

It’s not that this dance floor hasn’t seen its fair share of vomit—it has. Much of it, Mac’s. It’s just that the hundreds of glittery bodies swaying to the house music are giving him vertigo, and he didn’t really want to come, and Charlie and Dee cannot be left alone together without committing at least one felony. If one of them angers the wrong gay, he’ll have to bust out his jiu-jitsu training, and this isn’t the venue for that.

Someone needs to reign them in, be the straight man in the gay bar, and it has to be him—there’s no one else, anymore.

“You’re being such a buzz kill, man! This is your night!” Charlie cries, nodding his head to the beat of the music. He hasn’t stopped moving since Elton John’s tenor broke through the speaker on the first parade float earlier that afternoon. Mac’s always loved how Charlie absorbs the musicality in everything; tapping his feet to the rhythm of the leaky tap in the bar or pulling a piano riff from thin air after sniffing paint. It’s second nature for him. And then there’s Dee.

“Yeah! This is your night!” she parrots. She takes a swig from the penis-shaped cup she’s spilled the contents of on everyone in her orbit since they arrived. Mac has no idea where she got it from. The Rainbow doesn’t supply these. “Hey, this is blue flavored. What fruit is blue? Mac, d’you know?”

Charlie whirls on her, tipping back onto his heels as his legs catch up with his upper body. “Now hold on a minute, Dee. Why are you asking him, huh? Feels homophobic for you to assume he’s the fruit expert, here.”

“I’m not—” she huffs loudly and rolls her eyes in that eerie way that reminds Mac she’s someone’s twin, “—I’m not saying he’s the fruit expert ‘cause he’s gay, dipshit! I just—he’s been working out a lot and eating boring health food. Thought he’d know his fruits.”

Charlie turns to look at Mac, eyes skidding over his biceps. He doesn’t pay attention to things like this. If Mac showed up at the bar tomorrow with D-cups and ass implants, he wouldn’t bat an eye and doesn’t now. “He hasn’t been working out.”

“Yeah, he has! My god, do you pay attention to anything?”

They’ve been doing this a lot: talking about Mac like he isn’t standing right in front of them. His own friends treat him like a dog, hinting they’ll take him for a walk without saying it because they think if he hears the word, he’ll scamper around excitedly until they leash him. Or put him down.

Charlie plants his hands on his hips. “Well who’s to say between the two of us, I’m not the one with the fruit expertise?”

“Oh, what do you know about fruits, Charlie?” Dee challenges, walking up on him.

Charlie bounces on his toes as he shouts in Dee’s face. “I know a lot about fruits! I know a lot about fruits! My areas of expertise are bird law, woodworking, and then fruit—”

“Woodworking, what the hell are you talking about!?” Dee shouts back. She’s gesturing so violently that blue liquid is flying everywhere. Mac is strategically dodging drops of it as he steps forward to break them up.

It’s just then that the song changes and Charlie shoves his hand over Dee’s mouth to silence her. “Shut up! Shut up! Dee, shut up.”

She pushes him away, spitting wildly. “What the hell is on your hands!? Glue!?”

“I said shut up!” Charlie shrieks. He takes a deep breath and extends his arms, palms outstretched like a prophet. “I have to twirl about this.” Before Madonna can get a word of Express Yourself in edge-wise, he’s spinning again, off into the crowd.

Mac steps forward to follow him, but a sharp, quippy ‘Hey, boner!’ stops him in his tracks. When he turns to look at Dee, she’s staring at him. It’s so unnatural that he can only blink back at her. These past few years, they haven’t paid much attention to each other—only to fight like cats; their dynamic always defined by their gravitational proximity to another man.

“Are you—are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, duh. What’s up your ass?” She accents her question with a long swig from her dick cup. There’s a familial likeness there that keeps Mac from ever looking her directly in the eye.

Mac crosses his arms, standing a little straighter. “Nothing. Just trying to keep you two safe.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “From who?”

And yeah, that’s a good question. The threat level in the room is pretty low. Mac knows because he assessed it when they first walked in.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Anyone could be lurking here. Spies, henchman, a ninja maybe—”

“A ninja?” she interrupts, and there’s skepticism in her tone that makes him nervous. Why can’t she mind her own business?

“They could be anywhere, Dee. You don’t understand because you’re thinking like a civilian.” He taps his forehead for good measure.

“You’re a civilian, jerk ass.” She pulls the little umbrella out of her cup and twirls it in between her fingers. “You’re thinkin’ ‘bout your buddy, huh? Yikes!”

He’s been trying really hard not to think about anything at all; the door in his apartment that’s always closed; the room behind it that’s always empty; the one-way ticket to North Dakota that made it all so.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah y’are.” She shoves the dick cup in his face until he takes a swig. It feels like water going up his nose.

“Holy shit. What is this, Windex?” He eyes the sloshing blue substance, suspiciously. Maybe it will poison her and she’ll stop asking him so many pointed questions.

“No, it’s a blue lagoon. I got it from Estevan.” Dee flicks her hand behind her lazily, and Mac follows the direction of her flippant gesture into a crowd of strangers.

“Who’s Estevan?”

“He’s over th—” She turns to point at an empty space on the far wall. “Oh. I could’ve sworn he was…” She cocks her head back at Mac. “Hey, what d’you think was in those edibles?”

Mac swallows dryly. “I don’t think those were edibles, Dee.”

There was something kind of wonky about the little pink gummies Frank dropped into each of their palms, hours earlier. ‘You kids stay woke and don’t mix these with poppers or you’ll end up ass up in an airfield,’ he’d said before descending the stairs to a sketchy basement bar with Artemis. He hadn’t meant it in the liberal sense. There’s nothing woke about Frank. If Mac had a dime for every homophobic thing the guy said today, he’d be able to buy everyone in the bar a round. What’s the word for that? Reparations, maybe?

He looks to his side to ask the person who’s always standing there, the person who always knows the answer. There’s no one.

Dee pokes Mac in the pec with the toothpick end of the umbrella. “Look, I don’t care if you go home and sob into his pillow every night—“

“Estevan’s? I still don’t know who that is.”

Dee furrows her brow. “Est—what? No! Not Estevan’s! You know who! And you can mope about him all you want on your own time! But tonight’s supposed to be fun and you’re shitting on everything!”

“I am not shitting on everything!” Mac shoots back. He holds up the dick cup, pointedly. “You’re the one collecting souvenirs like a tourist! You should really give that kid her flag back!”

“Finders keepers!” Dee clutches at the ends of the flag and wraps them around her body, possessively, cocooning herself like a big ugly moth.

“You didn’t find it! You stole it!” She’d ripped it out of a college girl’s hands in line outside and told her to suck a fat chode before parading past the bouncer. If Mac’s retained anything from the Star Wars prequels he’s been marathoning in his now-infinite free time, it’s that not all heroes wear capes, and not all people who wear capes are heroes.

“Oh don’t make this about me!” Dee snaps. “We’re doin’ your thing tonight and you’re not even enjoying it, like an ungrateful asshole!” She gestures broadly to the dance floor, the ends of her pride cape flaring out around her in a blur of color. “Look around you! Everyone’s having a great time but you! If I were you, I’d be dancing my ass off! Not thinkin’ ‘bout my loser roommate.”

Mac clenches his fists. “He’s not a loser, Dee! He’s a dad!”

“What’s the difference!?” she yells, stomping her feet like a toddler.

There’s a huge difference, obviously–and she’s too drunk and dumb to see it. Dads can’t be losers. Take Mac’s for example. He’s a total badass. What, with all of his tattoos, and his secrets, and his criminal record? Bad. Ass.

Mac shoves the dick cup back into her hands. “Can we stop? Can we stop!? This is stupid! You’re drunk, we’re all high, Frank totally poisoned us which is probably a hate crime, at least in my case! This night has been shitty and I wanna go home! I’d rather be finishing Revenge of the Sith right now and that’s saying a lot. I’m gonna go find Charlie.”

“Whatever! Go do that! But remember, the night wasn’t shitty until you started shitting on it!” As Dee flings her hand out, liquid sloshes from the dick cup and hits Mac’s chest in a cold splatter.

“Hey!” he cries, grasping at the wet fabric of his tank top. “Oh god damnit, Dee!”

She cups a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I fucked it.”

“Yeah, you fucked it! Get me something to clean this up! Shit!”

“Fine!” She starts to tromp off, but then stops. Turning on her heels, she walks up into Mac’s space and jabs a sharp finger into his chest. “Stop. Shitting.”

They scoff at each other before she’s off again, stomping into the crowd. Mac flexes his fingers, fighting off the urge to trip her as her pride cape blurs with the other rainbow apparel. It’s just him, now. Him and a hundred other gay people. That thought alone is enough to unnerve him from his sticky spot on the floor.

Mac drifts aimlessly through the flock of sweaty bodies, eyes fixed on the blue stain blooming over his heart. Something’s kicking in: the edible, or Dee’s molotov cocktail, or the big horrible feeling he has in crowded rooms now that there’s no one to turn to and say ‘ It’s crowded in here, huh? ’.

The DJ has switched things up, opting for a slow song. People are pairing up to dance a boozy waltz. Bodies slotting together, hands grasping for broad shoulders, and Mac, all alone, covered in glitter and suspiciously blue liquor.

A couple in matching leathers bumps into him in the scramble, muttering apologies. A server lifts a tray of tequila shots high above their heads as she skirts past him. She’s wearing a tee shirt that says 'Love who you love' in big bold lettering. How? That’s all he’s been asking himself his entire life. How do you love someone the way they need it? How do you cope when they leave? How do you come out without immediately locking yourself in a brand-new box?

There’s a lull in the crowd finally, a clearing in the musky haze, where he can take a long deep breath. He blots at the stain with clammy fingers to no avail, barely noticing the hands ducking into his line of sight to press a napkin to his shirt.

“She’s so fucking annoying.”

Everyone sounds a little like this these days, so he doesn’t react anymore. In coffee shops, and grocery stores, and clubs like this one, Mac hears the familiar pert inflection that used to fill the space between him and the other end of the couch. And every time he turns to look, the face isn’t right.

“So annoying,” Mac agrees. “You know her?”

“You might say I know her better than anyone,” the stranger says with a theatrical inflection. He was always so dramatic.

Mac is still staring at the long, slim fingers fussing with the stain, the manicured nails grazing his bare chest as they hold fast to the fabric, lighting his skin up with goosebumps. He shifts on his feet. “Wow, you that close with her? Dee Reynolds? Bro, that’s—”

“Look at me, asshole.”

He won’t.

Because this is the same nightmare he’s been having for months. And it ends badly. It always has. It will never be different.

“Mac,” the stranger says, softly, in that tone he used to take in their kitchen at midnight, when they’d have tea together after a long day at the bar, when they’d share stories they’ve heard each other tell a million times like secrets. “Look at me.”

To Mac’s great pleasure and horror, he is just as easy to look at as he was the last time they saw each other. The vivid club lighting is cutting through the moving shadows, catching the arc of his cheek, the soft curl of his hair, his prim mouth set in an intent line.

As dancers and servers pass them by like ships in the night, Mac can feel it: the gossamer thin thread keeping him tethered to reality snapping as those slim hands drop the napkin and press hot to his neck, pulling him forward.

“What are you—” Mac starts, but it’s no use, because Dennis Reynolds, South Philadelphia’s most infamous ghost, is kissing him soft and open-mouthed in the middle of a gay bar.

And everything is blue like the sky on an autumn day when they were children, and Charlie would push him on the rusty swing set in the park. That fluttering deep in his stomach, as he’d dropped back down to earth, returning to him now like an old friend. Returning to him now, like Dennis.

And there’s something unnervingly gentle about the pale hand, reaching up to brush a stray hair off Mac’s forehead as they press closer to each other.

And Mac is gripping at the collar of a familiar button-up for dear life, wanting to anchor them both in this moment so that he won’t wake up in a cold sweat, any minute now, legs sticking to his sheets.

And the planets are all marbles, rolling out of orbit into the black universe, where everything tastes like the lip gloss Dennis left on the counter when he walked out of Mac’s life.

You never text me back, he wants to say. You never call. But he can’t speak, he can only sigh into the mouth of this beautiful, horrible stranger, who is kissing him like it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other. Maybe it is. Fear bubbles up in Mac’s throat at the idea that this is the closest he’ll ever be to Dennis again: hallucinating his likeness in crowded rooms he’ll never be in for all of eternity.

But when the stranger breaks the kiss, it’s still Dennis; still sharp lines and a rigid brow, pursed lips, and something rare and open in those wide, blue eyes flickering out as the mask is tied back on.

In all of Mac’s dreams, they don’t get this far. They don’t kiss. He always wakes up before they do it. Which only means one thing:

“This is a nightmare,” Mac whispers. It’s all he can think to say. It’s the only explanation.

“Yours or mine, buddy?” Dennis says softly. It’s quiet enough that Mac shouldn’t be able to hear it, but he does because he’s watching Dennis’ mouth so intently he could probably draw it later, from memory. His eyes linger there as Dennis turns in the other direction, walking away before Mac can take a breath.

“Wait!” Mac calls after him, trying to catch up, weaving through the crowd. It’s so like Dennis to power walk out of any compromising situation. Mac should know - he’s seen him do it a million times and not once has he been able to keep up. The guy’s got the stamina of a show pony. The last time he did it, he didn’t come back, and Mac’s reliving it again, for the hundredth night in a row. Remembering everything he didn’t say, or tried to say but it came out wrong.

“Dennis, wait!” Mac calls again, shoving the server from earlier aside as she walks between them. “Move, bitch!”

One moment he sees Dennis’ silhouette in the crowd, curls haloed by the overhead lighting, fingers digging into his palms in that way he does when he’s nervous, the arc of his tensed shoulders, shifting through the masses. The next, he’s gone.

“There you are!” Dee’s hand is on Mac’s shoulder, spinning him around. She and Charlie are staring at him with twin looks of concern. “Where the hell have you been!? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Everything is ten times louder all of a sudden like someone ripped his headphones out of his ears at the gym.

“I was…” Mac presses his hand to his mouth. His fingers are trembling. “Did you two see him?”

“Who, Estevan?” Dee asks, head cocked inquisitively—yes, like a bird.

“Estev—no. No.” Mac lifts his hand from his mouth to his forehead, massaging the skin there. It takes everything to move, suddenly. He feels like a bug, suspended in amber. “Guys, I think those edibles were laced with something.”

“I think you’re right, man.” Charlie says, “I just spun so much I wore a hole in the dance floor”

“It’s true,” Dee says, “I tripped over it and got blue everywhere.”

“Yeah, it’s everywhere. There’s blue everywhere,” Charlie adds.

Mac’s heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his ears, over the beat of the poppy synth music. Reality has rushed back in, the bar buzzing with energy once again. Maybe it always was.

“I—I think we should call it a night, guys. I need to get some air. I’m seeing things.”

Dee and Charlie exchange a look. Maybe they’ll take him for a walk after all. “Yeah,” Charlie says, “I think that’s the right move. Not that this hasn’t been so fun!”

“Oh! So fun!” Dee parrots, unconvincingly.

“But yeah, let’s go.” As Charlie motions toward the door, Dee flashes a bundle of paper towels.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I brought you this for the—” she stops, staring at Mac’s chest. “What the hell? Did you change your shirt?”

“No, why would I…”

He looks down, padding at the spot where there was once a blue stain. Now, nothing.

They all look at each other, letting the beat of confusion hang between them before deciding at once: “The edibles.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dee says. She flares out her cape dramatically and leads them through the crowd.

Mac trails behind her, eyes unfocused, the desire to be curled up on the couch watching Anakin burn to death in the lava river greater than he could have ever imagined. ‘I hate you,’ he’d said. ‘I loved you.’ Obi-Wan had replied. It’s where Mac had left off.

A wet napkin gets stuck to the sole of Charlie’s sneaker. He kicks it off and stumbles after them. “So wait, who’s Estevan?”

read more here <3

#happy pride friends!#i hope you like this :)#iasip #macdennis

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years

Note

okay u can’t do this to my poor heart please give us a pt3 i’m in my knees begging you.

You all wanted angst you get angst 🤧

---

He's yet again sitting on the corner of his bed, head in his hands. There's a cardboard box filled with all of your stuff- and it's not even halfway full. Why did he never notice how little stuff you have? How come you seem to have fewer toys and possessions apart from clothes than his dog?

You're currently staying with the girls- and he wonders how you do. It's hard on him because this - the home without you and just filled with the tapping of claws of bam who's occasionally roaming around - is way more calm to him than if you were here. It hurts because it just seems to show him that you really do not fit his life any longer.

And it gets worse when he clicks through videos and pictures on his laptop.

A video backstage, back when you were still a little spooked by fireworks. He's holding down your ears for you, your back pressed against his front as you watch the colorful sparks in the sky with him. They reflect in your eyes, and he watches his past self grin down at you, remembers how glad he was to be able to bring you along.

A set of pictures taken on a train. They're very old - still from the first weeks you'd stayed with him. You're asleep next to your and his bags on the seats across from him, worn out from your first big trip with him. There's still the piercing yellow from your anxiety collar around your neck. You've not worn it for a long time- It's now in the cardboard box, together with the other two collars you own.

Another video. It's the old practice room - you're holding onto his hands as he pulls you around the floor, your laughter filling the room as well as some staff's as well. Every time he stops, you just stare up at him, tail wagging wildly, and you're breathing quickly from the excitement. In another video, he can see you lazily play with the straps of his bag, while he's busy picking something out of the fluff of your curly tail. He doesn't remember what it was. Assumes it was a twig, maybe.

A video of you running in a huge open field, chasing after some wild ducks that fly away from you, as you laugh happily. At the call of your name, you turn around, morning fog hiding you a little - but you quickly become clearer as you run full speed back to him. You're again wearing the neon-colored anxiety collar - one that he can see his hand adjust while he holds the phone to record you. "We should get you a new one." His past self tells you. "You're not scared anymore, right?" The younger Jungkook chuckles, and you proudly nod before attacking him with a hug.

Videos become less and shorter the more time passes. The last photo he's got on this laptop is of you watching something on your tablet with your cheeks all puffy from the marshmallows you're snacking on. It's a hotel room, he notices. He doesn't remember taking that picture, though.

He feels terrible.

He could blame it on being busy. On life just changing, on growing up maybe - but the fact that there's an increase in images and videos of Bam as soon as yours stop forces him to realize that his priorities changed, simply put.

He's begun to take you for granted. He got too comfortable in thinking you'd always be there. His interest may even have faded.

He feels terrible.

He doesn't want to give either up. Neither you, nor his new pet- but he's also aware that it really can't go on like this. He has to make a decision as hard as it might be for him.

He gets up to get his dog's leash, the puppy happily jumping at him at the prospect of a walk.

And he feels terrible.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jungkook angst

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raccoon-the-third · 6 months

Text

Sometimes I look at my service dog and remember that when I got him just a year ago he was a regular dog he was afraid of doorways he didn't know how to jump into cars he pulled so bad he almost dislocated my shoulder on multiple occasions and now he knows how to open and close doors he jumps in cars with so much enthusiasm that he sometimes forgets he needs me to open the doors he can walk beside me without a leash let alone is actually tasks and all that completely force free

I love dogs and dog training

#this picture is taken by my mom at one of her trainings with him by the way

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thesparklingwriter · 2 years

Text

questionable alliances

“Are you bitching about me to our dog?”

tags: pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, they have a dog, zhongli is a proud dog dad, treats his dog likes it's a baby

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

please do not repost or edit my work without credit. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Excited barks float through the house, and as much as you love Amber and would do anything for her, it’s six am, and you should be sleeping.

You creep downstairs to see whether she’s okay, only to hear Zhongli shushing her.

“Amber, please keep it down,” he says, kneeling down to put her leash on. “Remember our deal, if you wake yn, we can’t go for a walk.”

Amber is silent. You imagine her tilting her head to the side.

“I can't believe yn has trained you so thoroughly that the word ‘walk’ means nothing to you,” He huffs and clears his throat. “If you’re not quiet, we can’t go for…walkies.”

Amber whines, only really hearing the negative part of the sentence.

“You know what she’s like. If she sees we’re going without her she’ll be in the most argumentative mood. Rightly so, I admit, but the fact remains.”

Amber growls playfully, snatching her leash out of his hands as if she’s going to walk herself. “Such aggression,” Zhongli chuckles, petting her head. “Did yn teach you that? It seems like the kind of thing she’d do.”

“Are you bitching about me to our dog?” you ask incredulously. Zhongli isn’t even surprised by your presence, so you’re guessing that he either knew you were there or he heard you stomp out of bed. Knowing him, both are viable options.

“Good morning, love.” he smiles, pulling you into a hug. Amber runs at your legs, yipping happily, and you push Zhongli away to pick her up. She nuzzles her face against yours with a playful bark.

“Is your father gossiping with you?” You tease. “He is, isn’t he? He’s a big old gossip!”

“I was not gossiping,” he complains. He picks up Amber’s discarded leash. “I was simply stating the truth. Would you like to join us on our walk?”

“Of course I do.” You smile.

“Then you should probably get changed,” His eyes glide over you and you suddenly realise how right he is—you can’t go out for a walk in just one of his shirts. If you did that, Zhongli would probably hit every person who even dared to look at you with rocks and it wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’re right. Come on, Amber. It’s my turn to gossip with you while I get changed.”

Amber follows behind you, with a valiant attempt at getting up the stairs. She tries her best to do things most things herself, but if she lets out a single whimper, Zhongli picks her up immediately. That should make him her favourite, but you feed her most of the time, so the two of you are equally matched. You slow down so she can keep trying at her own pace.

Amber climbs onto your bed as you start powering through your clothes. “Did you know you’re six months old today?” Amber yips happily. You and Zhongli swear she can understand what you’re saying to her by the way she responds to you both—sometimes she sits by you, listening intently to your conversations.

“Your dad will never admit it, but he remembered and we’re going out for dinner later. He’s saying it’s an advance on our anniversary but I know better.” Amber bounces on the bed a few times, and almost flies off. You catch her, smiling softly. “You’ve not grown at all, have you? You’re still as small as the day we got you!”

“Even though you keep sneaking her extra food,” You hadn’t noticed Zhongli had come upstairs.

“I never!" you hiss, and Amber barks along.

“Your mother keeps feeding you more than she should, doesn’t she?”

That’s new. You’ve embraced the title of dog mum with your whole being. You even commissioned a dress with the words embroidered on it, but Zhongli refuses to wear the shirt you had made for him.

“You said your love for me knows no bounds. If that were the case, you’d wear the shirt.” You huffed, and Zhongli simply laughed.

“I never lied. My love for you does know no bounds. My shame, however, knows plenty.”

Although at the time, you had relented, you promised you’d get him in the shirt some way or another. You’ve always referred to Amber as your child, and whilst Zhongli endures you calling him Amber’s dad, he’s never once willingly called himself that.

“Did you just call me Amber’s mother?”

Zhongli hums. “Is that not what your dress says?”

“Now what has caused this change of pace, I wonder?” You tease, grinning devilishly. Instead of responding to you immediately, he picks Amber up with a tender smile.

“I’m simply seeing things from your point of view,” he smiles.“Amber is quite like a child in some ways.”

“Does this mean you’ll wear the shirt?” Excitement glazes your eyes and Zhongli can't help but laugh.

“Certainly not,” he chuckles. Although, as you go out on your walk, he certainly acts the part of a proud dog dad. Every time someone compliments Amber or mentions how adorable she is, he smiles proudly as you gush about how perfect your dog is. The minute Amber slows down, he’s picked her up, cradling her to his chest the way he did when you first got her. Seeing him be so paternal to her, even though she’s a dog, does something to you, and you often spend the rest of your walks with your head lowered to try and hide the early onset of blush.

“Are you alright, love?”

“Oh, I’m just perfect.” You mutter. It’s not like you’re dying internally, or anything.

“I don’t believe you at all.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

Zhongli’s face takes on a dignified impishness as he grins down at you. “Maybe I will wear that shirt.” Despite his attempts to disguise this as his own decision–one he’s made of his own free will, the fact remains. He really can’t bear to disappoint you, and if making you happy involves him wearing a silly little shirt. He’ll do it.

But his words don’t have the effect on you that he expects. You just blush more, turning your face away from him. “I’m hungry.” You huff indignantly. “Let’s go home.”

a/n i, like yn, want to have zhongli's babies

#zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli fanfic #tswzhongliflufftober #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin #genshin fluff #zhongli flufftober #genshin flufftober #genshin fanfiction #zhongli x reader #amber is my life #i love her #cute doggy make celeste go brr

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heart-of-copper-dog-training · 5 months

Text

Does size matter?

So we see a lot of breed bias in the dog training and guardian world. And that is definitely something for a different post. But today, I want to talk about dog size.

Often times, when I see a discussion about hypothetical dog scenarios, there is often two given examples of dogs: the well behaved dog and the unruly dog. This could be in reference to just discussing encounters out and about, at a dog training class, or (most commonly) a fake service dog call out post.

Quick interjection here: not all disabilities are visible and no, you cannot ask a person with a service dog to "prove it" with a "certification" there isn't such a thing and anyone who readily pulls out a "service dog id card" should be met with suspicion at the least, though I do know some programs gift these after their participants graduate.

On to my point, in these call outs, when it is not a breed bias (often painting one heavily stigmatized breed vs another less stigmatized breed, either in favor or against the breed in question), it is a size bias. I see far too many posts where these hypothetical situations paint all small dogs are nasty little "brats". And in comparison, some large or giant breed is almost always the one who can do no wrong or is the "real" service dog.

Now I work with a service dog program (shout out to TADSAW) and I have even seen this bias with our clients who think small dogs can either NEVER be service dogs or are just untrainable little monsters.

I also know small dogs who are amazing little dogs, whether they work as a service animal (and yes, they can, depending on the tasks required, their size is not an issue), a fun trick pup, a sports puppy, or just a well trained companion who is happy to loose leash walk, not pee in the house and stick around for the cuddles.

What I want to talk about is why this happens. Why do people assume little dogs are monsters? Or can't do work? Well, for the latter, it's usually because they don't understand all the tasks a service dog can do and assume the dog must be of a certain size without taking into account that medical alert dogs are a thing, and picking up dropped items is actually completely doable for a small dog.

For the former? As a current little dog owner, I can say it's because they aren't taken seriously. Because here's the thing: a large dog that jumps on you, bites, barks, pulls, lunges, etc is going to literally do more harm than a little dog, so more often than not, guardians of these dogs do more to ensure good manners are in place and take into account their size for exercise and enrichment requirements.

It's VERY easy to just scoop a small dog up and remove them from any situation where they are having undesirable behaviors. And it's very easy to dismiss the damage a small dog can cause to a child because "oh look how cute and small they are, they're harmless".

And it's VERY easy to assume that because the dog is small, they don't need much in the way of exercise, training, or enrichment. Look at their tiny feet, they clearly can't walk far, right?

So, dogs aren't sizes. Dogs are dogs. Breeds are breeds. And individuals are individuals. Where one small dog might be content to be a lap dog all day, another (looking at you, Donut) will happily walk two miles and still want to trick train for the next thirty minutes because he just LOVES doing it. Some large dogs are lazy couch potatoes (I know, I've owned a greyhound, he was great) and some are intense athletes. And all sizes can be anywhere and everywhere in between.

But it's the small dogs who get left out of the conversation. When people bring a small dog into their family, it is too often done because small dogs are "easy". They don't "need" exercise, or much more than a run around the house. They don't "need" training and enrichment, because they're small, they'll just cuddle all day. They can be carried around and brought many places a larger dog would be denied because they're "portable". Their discomfort and lack of consent is often dismissed as "aww look they think they're a big dog" when they show teeth. They are never taught what to do because it's so easy to just pick them up and remove them from a situation. And often they learn that they need to jump to biting FIRST, as every other signal they tried to give was ignored, because, again, "look how cute".

Even a guardian who is doing everything right, trying their best to give their small dog good manners and foundational skills, will be met with constant battles.

You're working on socializing so you bring your dog out just to "watch the world go by?" You're going to be stopped by people asking to hold them(even when they're fully grown and don't want to be held by strangers) because unfortunately, they're still small and often treated like puppies by these dog lovers.

You're working on reactivity (perhaps caused by strangers constantly grabbing at your poor dog)? People will STILL ask to pet/hold them. EVEN after you say "no, they're not friendly" "no, they're in training" "no, they don't like people/dogs". Because they're SMALL. So to others, the damage output is minimal. The same people that would back off if you said your dog is not friendly when it's a large dog will move in to pet a small dog because "oh dogs love me".

For the first year of Donut's life (when he was extra floofy and adorable), I had also had my Pyrenees mix Naga (she was 12 years old and passed shortly after his birthday). Naga was a shelter dog that came from a hard situation where her health had been compromised and she'd been undersocialized. She came to me with fears of men, stairs, people in hats, people in uniforms, honestly it was a large list and a long journey with her. But we worked together to help her build her confidence.

BUT that didn't mean that she was going to be confident in every situation. She was most confident with me and her other dog present (previously the aforementioned greyhound Thane, now Donut the Bichon). And I would always advocate for her if I saw she was uncomfortable, even if I knew the person meant no harm.

I never once had someone continue to approach me when I said "she's in training and a little cautious of strangers" and it was my 85 lb pyr with me. They always backed up and said "oh I'm sorry to hear that" or "oh I didn't realize".

But when Donut hit his first fear period, I learned why small dogs bite. Because the same words I've used for decades for my dogs "they're in training, they're working, they can't be pet right now" don't work for small dogs. So I was left with a few choices: pick him up every time someone approaches too quickly (taking away his agency and ability to learn to cope with a new environment), or stop taking him out completely until the fear period passed (even though we were only doing small stints to make sure he didn't get overwhelmed).

Or, secret option three: "bite" the people. When my nice words did not produce the results Donut needed (space, time to process), I would follow up with something harsher. I would body block him myself, give them the hard look and say "no, you need to back off. He is not a toy and I did not say you could pet him."

It was rude. It was not what I wanted to do as a guardian or a trainer. But it got results. Oh, yes, I got the stink eye on more than one occasion, and sometimes I got parents upset I didn't let their kid pet the dog (and often the children were MUCH more polite!). But, I also got Donut the space he needed to choose to engage or not.

Donut is now a happy go lucky little guy who has never met a stranger, but I still have to advocate for him to this day. Even though most days he won't try to put feet on someone, the day he does it and I give him a little "off" and treat, I get told "it's okay he's small". NO, it's not okay. It's bad manners and that's why I'm redirecting and you wouldn't be saying that if he was a big dog. He loves almost every person he meets, but sometimes an individual can come on a little strong for him (going right for the pick up and hug) and he will show discomfort and retreat to me, because he knows I'm going to prevent it. No, he's not a toy and you wouldn't be trying to pick him up if he was big.

Owning a small dog is HARD. I have owned street dogs, large dogs, reactive dogs, I have worked with giant breeds, aggressive dogs, major anxiety in dogs. I have nursed dogs and puppies back to health from the brink of death (with the guidance of my veterinarian of course).

And none of that was as hard as making sure my small dog was socialized properly and had his needs met. I think we make owning a small dog so hard for those who are trying. And even for those who aren't doing "the right thing", it is often out of ignorance. I cannot tell you how many clients have come to me with small dogs who are exhibiting major boredom undesirable behaviors and when I ask about their routine I'm met with a "well we don't really do much, they're small so they just stay in the house and go outside to potty". Well, there's the problem right there.

We need to educate more guardians on the fact that dogs are dogs, regardless of size. Their needs will vary based on breed, temperament and many other factors, but their size doesn't change the fact that they are dogs. They can do jobs, like service work. They can be amazing little companions. They can be complete clowns like Donut who want to do nothing more than learn ALL THE TRICKS because they love it. Donut has higher energy, drive, intelligence and exercise needs than my other dog, Pancake, who is 45 lbs. Which isn't a lot, but is sure is a lot bigger than his 11 lbs soaking wet self.

And when I tell people that, they look at me like I've grown two heads. Pancake definitely likes to run and has a higher speed and endurance than him, but one good long walk of sniffs and a five minute training session will knock her out the rest of the day. Meanwhile, Donut rarely runs out of second winds until the end of the night, and that's only because I've built in a very specific night time ritual to ensure he calms down for bed. He'll have a twenty minute nap and then ask for more training or play. He's such a fun dog to have around but he's also my biggest chore (don't tell him!).

Please stop demonizing small dogs. Some of those guardians don't know any better due to the false belief that small dogs are "easy" and need to be educated. Some of them are trying their best and fighting a world of people who will not give them the respect they would give a guardian of a large dog.

Dogs are dogs. And unless you NEED their size for a specific task, then I'm sorry but size doesn't matter.

As always, be kind to yourself, to your dogs, and to others around you. We don't know their battles, and it's free to be kind.

#dog trainer #dog training #positive dog training #dogs #dog reactivity #behavior modification

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treewithabark · 2 years

Note

WOW im really impressed with Juno’s loose leash walking skills. do you mind sharing the method you used to go about getting those results? my puppy Loves to pull and i suck at teaching llw

Ahhh thank you! And YES absolutely!

I will preface this by saying that she does still pull. It’s very much a work in progress, but with consistency (a lot of consistency) she doesn’t choke herself anymore and we are seeing more moments of walking to heel or walking with a beautiful slack lead. We are still actively working on the loose lead walking while out and about.

I’m also very lucky to have some great dogblr friends that I can discuss these things with. And while I was struggling with the training one of them actually walked me through how she teaches loose lead walking and I managed to figure out where I was going wrong in the method.

No one is perfect! And if you’re tackling this on your own without someone to spot you it can be really really easy to make mistakes!

Taking videos of your sessions can be super beneficial for this reason. When you watch them back you can see the training from an outside perspective. I’ve noticed that I talk a lot in my sessions, which can be confusing to the dog. So I’m trying hard to talk less and be clearer in my cues.

What I use;

-A collar - I personally use martingales, I like the wideness of them for comfort and weight distribution, plus the safety of knowing they can’t back out of this style of collar.

-A 6ft snap lead - this can be shorter! But the idea is that it’s a fixed lead, not a flexi that changes length all the time.

-Lots and lots of treats

-Two clear verbal cues

So I use two methods. Circle method, in which I walk Juno around in a circle when she starts pulling, or I change direction with her.

I really love the idea of circle method, I watched a great online seminar about it but I find it really hard to describe it in just writing. I’ll have to see if I can find some sources on it to reblog at another time!

The thing that worked best with Juno though, especially at the beginning, was simply changing direction. This worked best if I didn’t have a route planned ahead. Just keep walking and see where you end up! The first day I really knuckled down on the training, we didn’t even leave my road because she’d pull in all directions before we actually managed to make it somewhere. But that’s okay!

So you leave the house. I try to leave the house first. Not because “hurr durr I’m the alpha” but to start the walk off where she isn’t dragging me out of the door before we’ve really begun.

Pick a direction, start walking. Dog starts to pull. You say “ah ah” (think Victoria Stillwell - a short snappy sound that captures the attention and clearly marks a mistake) and you lead the dog around 180 degrees and start walking the other direction. Calling out “let’s go” to the dog. When the dog follows you in this new direction reward with a treat with your chosen marker. Whether that’s a clicker, or a verbal cue. I use “yes!” As my reward marker.

Rinse and repeat.

Walk, dog pulls, ah ah, change direction, let’s go, yes good girl/boy, treat. You are only moving forward when the dog isn’t pulling.

You might go through a lot of treats in the early stages. That’s also okay!

If the dog is lurching forwards again after taking a single treat from you, you can try tossing the treat on the ground away from you, to the side or slightly behind, so the dog then has to come back to you for another treat while you’re still in their sight.

If you find that your dog is hitting the end of the lead quite hard when they pull forwards, shorten the lead so they have less of a chance to jolt their neck. You don’t want it too short though as the dog needs to be able to feel when the lead is slack, a constant tight lead won’t teach them anything.

Same goes for changing directions, don’t let them hit the end of the lead hard, we want to lead them not play ping pong with our pups. Try and lead them in a semi circle instead of changing direction too rapidly and having them get a sharp tug.

You may have to change direction a LOT. As I said, the first day we didn’t even make it off my road. But once they start to realise that they don’t get anywhere when they pull you should be able to go longer distances without the pulling.

Remember to also mark and reward when they’re not pulling. At the beginning this could be just a few steps. They’ve walked a few metres without pulling? Yes, good dog! Have a treat. Hopefully over time you can go longer without rewarding, say going 15 meters instead of just 5.

The trick with both this method, and the circle method, is that the dog is constantly moving. With constant movement and engagement they have less chance of letting frustration build. While the stop start method (red light green light for some people, stopping dead when the dog pulls) doesn’t allow for that constant movement and lets frustration build up over time instead of letting the dog burn off that excess energy.

You can also start teaching “heel” in quiet spots, like your house, garden, secure areas etc. Juno was learning heel in a tennis court where she could be off lead in a gated area with high fences. And coupled with her loose lead walking I began praising her and rewarding her for heeling when out walking. So if she’s walking with a loose lead but then pulls back to walk in line with me I start heavily praising with “good girl, good heel! Good heel!” Then mark and reward with “yes! Heel!” And deliver the treat. It’s nice to incorporate different parts of your training into one once you have the foundations built separately.

I often see people trying to teach their dogs to walk nice, but all they’re doing is tugging on the lead and saying “no, heel Fido, heel” but it’s clear that the dog doesn’t understand the cue and is just being tugged back into position with no indication that they’re doing the correct thing.

Wow I’m so sorry this turned into a long response and I still had to cut things out! I really hope these ramblings made sense, I’m happy to elaborate further if anything was confusing, or point you towards other blogs that I know can explain it better! I’ll try and grab a video today of the method in action but I’ve found that it’s hard to show with only one hand free.

Big up to @taylor-luna who walked me through her tried and tested method and helped me figure out what wasn’t working! Self training is possible with a dog but having the knowledge from trusted dog trainers is invaluable. Public thanks for the aid!

#dog training #positive reinforcement #dogblr #for my other training enthusiasts feel free to chip in if I’ve missed something!#dog training is to be shared not gate keeped and we do a fantastic job here at discussing stuff and sharing sources

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ambrosia-sdit · 7 months

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the anon ask from last week made me realize that i’ve only been coming here to vent. i want this blog to be an accurate reflection of ambrosia’s training progress, and while that will certainly include venting at times, it also has to include highlights. therefore, in no particular order, here are some things that went well in the last week!

she will go into her crate at night without complaint now, and only wakes up 1-2 times, very briefly. it’s getting easier to shush her back to sleep each time

she fell while getting into the car last week and got up immediately and tried again with little encouragement

she was very patient and good during her bath last week and didn’t try to escape the tub

on our walk this morning, she saw another dog, looked at me, whined, and kept walking. no barking at said dog, or pulling on the leash!

we have been working on extended down stays in my dorms common area, and even with the distraction of people coming and going, she is able to stay in her down even when i am out of sight

at puppy class on sunday, we worked on recall, something we’ve already practiced extensively at home, so she impressed both the trainer and her classmates with how quickly she ran to me, even when i was out of sight

on a walk in the woods a week ago, when rolling on the ground she got a ton of burrs stuck all over her- in between her toes, on her neck, in her beard. it was bad. 100% my fault bc i didn’t see them when i was letting her roll in the leaves, but she was very cooperative and calm while i combed them out, despite being in so much pain

she’s such a good girl, and we’re doing better. the biggest issue we have right now is her apparent disinterest in her kibble, but the vet wasn’t worried, so i am hoping she’ll come around to it soon.

#service dog #sdit #4 months

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hashtag-xolo · 2 years

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It's funny (/sarcasm) how people are so passionately defending how much better off their understimulated, poorly socialized, and emotionally neglected dogs are than well-worked dogs living in climate-correct shelter because their "fur kids" live inside of a house. Kind of like people don't enjoy facing the fact that dogs are not cute robots who are pre-programmed to be obedient and friendly and you know... Actually have complex needs that are different from our own. You know... Just like our own human children.

Like, if these really were your "kids"... Then you would have to actually "parent" them. Meaning you would have to take responsibility and teach rules, boundaries, and skills that will help them be comfortable and successful in life. Such as:

-socializing your dog's properly and in healthy ways, not flooding them. Like how you would teach a child about the world and how to kindly interact with others in their lives.

- giving them clear criteria for behaviors and expectations so dogs have the security of a structure to their lives. Like teaching your own children skills like reading and writing, and setting up daily routines like mealtimes and bedtimes.

- embracing foods that are actually healthy for dogs and have research to back then up, not following the latest fad diet trends. Because malnutrition is bad in kids and dogs and dad diets are bad for both.

- engaging with your dog and allowing your dog to pursue activities that are fulfilling to your dog - even ones that might be kind of inconvenient or boring to you, like letting your dog get some good sniffaris in. Like how you should let a child pursue their own interests and hobbies even though you really wish they'd play football like you did.

The amount of "pet parents" that give their dogs the bare minimum of food, shelter, and some pets and call them well-cared for while ignoring their dog's true needs for interaction and structure... Is a lot. That isn't a good life to exist anxious and without guidance. Trust me, I was raised in a household where I had a roof over my head and food but emotionally was neglectful at best. And all I hear when people say "but my dog is indoors not cruelly outdoors!!!" Is that same sort of logic that as a child I should be grateful for the shitty treatment my parents gave me because I had physical shelter. Or the people who yank their dogs along on a walk instead of letting their dogs fulfill their integral need to sniff at their environment, and then wonder why their dog has developed leash issues and anxiety make me think how children deprived of their own passions develop deep anxieties...

Also like... Dogs like structure and routine. It gives them a strong sense of security actually to know what to expect in their life. People who let their pups do whatever because "oh they're my kid I could never force them to do anything" just tell me they don't know how to teach, only how to bully. LIMA or strictly force-feed, there are plenty of trainers who have never had to use aversives to raise wonderfully behaved dogs. (This is not an invitation to debate training methods or aversive use, just making a statement that training that is minimally aversive to zero aversives actually works.) Setting boundaries and expectations isn't cruel. Refusing to communicate and engage with your dog, though, is neglectful. Just like ignoring your kids and letting them play on an iPad all day is neglectful of your responsibilities as a parent.

A dog who has proper shelter and who gets plenty of social engagement and time with its humans while getting to fulfill its biopsychological need to hunt/herd/pull/work is a really happy, lucky dog. This dog is comfortable, confident, and getting fulfillment on multiple levels beyond what a dog left alone in a house for eight hours a day is getting. This dog is getting proper shelter. Not every single dog wants to sleep on the bed right next to a human. Hell, even my incredibly Velcro dog wants some space at night time because he wants to sleep without getting jostled awake. It's not abusive to give your dog a sleeping place that isn't inside of a house as long as it's properly sheltered.

But ultimately I think the biggest issue is people are having to face that their dog who sleeps inside isn't actually that well taken care of. That leaving a dog bored at home for ten hours a day, taking it on a half hour walk while you ignore it further and check your social media, and only give maybe an half hour of focused engagement total at home really isn't such a good life. But that is a hard thing to admit so it's a lot easier to scapegoat those whose interactions with dogs looks really different. And calling them your kids makes them seem oh so loved while ignoring the fact that like far too many children, these dogs are living in emotionally neglectful and stifling homes because like human children, dog children take work and need teaching, guidance, and social interaction. Dogs have distinct needs from humans. They are not the same as children and nothing I said above is meant to imply they are the same, just that like with children of your own you need to actually take responsibility for the lives in your care. And some of those responsibilities actually are similar.

Now, is every "fur parent" this bad? No. Plenty of people take time to actively spend time with their dogs. And plenty of these people do call their dogs their kids. But, I do think that the people crying the loudest are those who most deeply need to examine the ways they relate to animals and children. And really any disenfranchised populations of humans. Because there's a deep difference between simply existing and living a good life for both humans and animals. Proper shelter takes many forms and is just one piece of a bigger web of needs. It's important, but just having that isn't enough.

#dogblr #long post #animal welfare #because im really tired of people calling their dogs their kids and then ignoring them #like yall if thats how you treat your kids im gonna talk to a social worker

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reikyaoi · 2 years

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leon's day off

pairing; n/a word count; 4.1k characters; oogami koga, otogari adonis, kanzaki souma, hakaze kaoru, sakuma rei ao3 link

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“Leon’s a free spirit and a lone wolf. I let him off-leash so he can get all his energy out without me gettin’ in his way,” Koga shrugged. “He’ll come back if I call him though.”

Turning around to amplify his voice towards the general direction he watched him sprint in, Koga shouted, “Leon!”

… And nothing happened. No corgi came bounding for him from any direction.

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

gift for @uglytsumugi12, you were my assignment for the enstars new years gift exchange 2022!! i hope you enjoy this silly little koga centric fic <3

As much as he loved him to death, even Koga could admit winter was not Leon’s best season in terms of agreeability.

Despite his well behaved nature, shaped by multiple years of Koga’s meticulous training, Leon was curious in nature. It's as if he seemingly forgot how to act when temperatures dropped. He loved exploring, playing in snow, forcing Koga out into below freezing temperatures at 6am so he could go run around and get snow all over his coat…

Koga sighed. He can’t be annoyed with him really. He’s the one that signed up for the responsibility of having a dog, and Leon was always worth the turmoil. Doesn’t negate the fact that the streets are completely covered in ice that has yet to be salted, Koga has to be at school in two hours, and Leon is dragging him along to get to the park so he can run around off leash, and Koga has nearly slipped and ate shit about four times now.

“Quit tuggin’... We’re gonna get there soon, and then you can run around all you want without nearly killin’ me, okay?” Leon had stopped momentarily to pee on someone’s potted plant. He blinked at Koga owlishly. Koga, unamused, blinked back at him. The second he was done with his break, he darted off ahead of him, nearly pulling his arm off.

Two near death experiences and a little treat bribery later, and they finally made it to the dog park. Once there, they made it a safe distance into the park before Koga bent down to unclip Leon’s leash. Free at last, Leon dashed off into another direction, to do who knows what in the snow. Probably take a shit, Koga’s brain supplied.

“Oogami.”

Koga nearly jumped out of his skin at the hand appearing on his shoulder. When he whipped around, his attacker revealed himself to just be Adonis, joined quietly by Souma at his side.

“Jesus fuck, I thought I was about to be mugged. Always so damn quiet…”

“I apologize Oogami. I did not mean to sneak up on you.”

“...S’okay. I can’t really be mad when you apologize so earnestly…” Souma, looking for an opportunity to make his presence apparent, bowed. “Hello, Oogami-dono.”

“Zakki, hey… What are you two doing out here?”

Adonis smiled. “Kanzaki needs to bring Kamegorou back to the marine life club for a check-up with Shinkai-senpai. We decided to take him with us while we went on our morning jog, so that we don’t have to go back and get him. It ended up being more of a walk to accommodate him… But it was nice.”

Koga looked down between the two of them and finally noticed what Souma was carrying- a small clear plastic pet carrier lit from the inside by a warming light, with a perch rock and a small bit of water. Laying on the rock was a small pond turtle shell, presumably with its head and legs tucked inside.

Koga looked at the carrier, confused. “Is it not… too cold to be carryin’ that thing around…”

Souma’s face dropped at the question, “I truly hope not. I’ve been doing my best to keep him warm. I’m unsure if the lighting fixture I’ve installed in his carrier is enough. We’ve been stopping in shops periodically to make sure he doesn’t freeze. I am beginning to think this was not the great plan I had thought it to be… But I acted selfishly. I did not want to give up on my morning run with Adonis…”

“Kanzaki. I would not have taken offense to you canceling for a day if you had other responsibilities.”

“I know… As I said, I was acting selfishly. I enjoy spending time with you and did not want to miss an opportunity to do so,” Souma lamented.

“Ah… That means very much to me, Kanzaki. You truly are a dear friend to me.”

“Adonis…”

Koga looked between the two of them with thinly veiled discomfort at the quarrel he had been forced into witnessing, if you could even call it that. “So if you two are going on a walk with the turtle… Why’re you at the dog park?”

Souma brightened at the reminder of why they were there, “Adonis saw you and suggested that Kamegorou-san meet your dog. He spoke very highly of how well behaved Leon is, and if Adonis says he is well trained, I trust him.” Souma looked back at Adonis as they exchanged fond smiles. “We saw him with you just a moment ago. Where did he go?”

“Leon’s a free spirit and a lone wolf. I let him off-leash so he can get all his energy out without me gettin’ in his way,” Koga shrugged. “He’ll come back if I call him though.”

Turning around to amplify his voice towards the general direction he watched him sprint in, Koga shouted, “Leon!”

… And nothing happened. No corgi came bounding for him from any direction.

Koga, suppressing an instinctive anxiety, tried again. Louder this time, Koga shouted, “LEON!”

And still, nothing happened.

“God fucking damnit where did he go,” Koga grumbled. Leon was well trained, and rarely ever ran off without coming back. Koga also highly doubted he could get very far on his little legs. “Fuck, I don’t know where the hell he went.”

“Would you like us to help you look for him?” Adonis asked, concern clear in his eyes.

“Ah… Fuck, yeah, if you can.” Koga gave in. Souma pressed his carrier closer to his body and wrapped his arms around it completely in an attempt to keep its passenger as warm as possible, and then the three of them set off in different directions, all shouting Leon’s name.

After about ten minutes of walking around the park, Koga finally started to allow himself some internal panic. Leon never did this. Even when he was being trained as a puppy, he never strayed far from Koga for very long, especially not after having his name called. Not responding when his name was called implied that Leon was far enough away to not be able to hear him calling. Did he run away? Did someone take him? It was about 7am at this point. There were only about two other owner and dog pairs here right now, both caught up in their own little worlds. Still, he approached them and asked if they had seen an orange corgi running around anywhere. Both said they hadn’t been paying attention. A little negligent of them, Koga muttered under his breath as he turned away. Koga never didn’t pay attention to what the other dogs at the park were doing, just in case any of them were misbehaved enough to try anything… Except now Koga was the negligent one because he just left his dog completely unattended while he talked to his friends and now his best friend was lost and he was never gonna see him again-

“Oogami.” Adonis put a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time that morning. “Oh. I did it again. I apologize, Oogami.”

Souma piped up, “Unfortunately, me and Adonis did not make any meaningful progress towards finding your dog. We searched the entire left side of the park, and both found nothing. I’m sorry we couldn’t be of any help.” He paused, “... and unfortunately, it is 7:30… Classes start in half an hour…” He trailed off, looking extremely guilty that he had to put his studies over finding Koga’s friend. “It would be unwise of us to show up so late and risk punishment… And I also need to assure Kamegorou-san is properly warmed up.”

“If you would like, we can help you the moment we get out of school today. Kanzaki and I both feel deeply responsible for Leon running off, since we distracted you with our presence while you were watching him. So we will both do anything we can to help you reunite with him. I apologize that we cannot do more for him now.” Adonis said, hand still placed comfortingly on Koga’s shoulder.

As always, when the two of them were being so earnest with him, it was very hard to be upset at them for what he knew was ultimately his mistake. There were three things that Koga took more seriously than anything in the world. #1 was being a member of Undead, #2 was practicing his guitar, and #3 was being Leon’s owner. He knew that despite Adonis and Souma’s claim to guilt, the blame for Leon straying too far away was on him.

“... I think I’m gonna keep lookin’ for him for a bit. Student council be damned; it’s not like I’ve been extremely late all that often. I just gotta hope they’ll make an exception this time. Leon’s too important not to keep lookin’... You two can go though. I’ll come bother ya if I really do need help after school though.” Koga was desperately trying to keep his cool and not show how stressed he truly was. There was an image to maintain, after all.

Adonis looked at him unsure. “Kanzaki, maybe we should stay… I would feel truly terrible if something were to happen to Leon because Oogami could not find him in time…”

“Nah, seriously, you guys are good to go. Leon’s tough, I trained him to attack if he senses bad intentions. Unfortunately, he hasn’t attacked Hakaze-senpai yet, but hopefully he’ll get there one day.” Koga said, only about 90% sarcastically.

Souma giggled at that, while Adonis gave him a look of confusion, “Why would Hakaze-senpai have bad intentions with Leon?”

“Agh, nevermind, I forgot you two don’t always understand sarcasm…I’m just sayin’, he can handle himself. Besides, he’s got on a collar with my phone number on it. Nobody’s gonna think he's a stray.”

Having been reassured of Leon’s supposed strength, Adonis relented. “Okay. If you say he’s strong, we will go. Please let us know if you do need our help.” And with that, Adonis and Souma said their farewells and headed off. Koga sighed. Reassuring Adonis did actually help to reassure himself that Leon would be fine. Leon didn’t look anything like the strays that wander around the area. He’s a well taken care of, 12kg corgi. If anyone found him, they would call him.

Confidence in his ability to find Leon restored. He set off to search the entire park again.

How far away could Leon truly even get?

───────

Pretty fucking far, apparently.

He had searched the entire park, the park's direct exterior, up and down the streets surrounding it, hell, he even had begun to retrace his steps and walk back to ES, hoping that Leon was smart enough to know his way back home.

By the time the clock had reached 9:30, Koga knew he had to give up for now and take Adonis and Souma up on their offer to help look for him after school. He could tell he wasn’t doing a very good job at not wearing his emotions on his sleeve, because the second he walked in the room, they both gave him a slight look of pity that he pretended not to see.

All day, Koga couldn't stop checking his phone. It was truly baffling to him that no one had called and said they had found him yet. He couldn't stop bouncing his leg up and down and fidgeting with pen and looking out the window and checking the clock. He was so antsy, he felt like he was gonna explode.

The minute they were dismissed, he bolted from his seat, ready to go resume the search.

Adonis and Souma followed swiftly behind him. “Did you really find no leads while you were out this morning, Oogami-dono?,” Souma asked. “You were gone for an extra two hours…”

Koga glared. “If I found somethin’, do you think I’d be rushing out the door like this Zakki?!” Souma wrinkled his nose at Koga’s tone, but said nothing in response, reasoning that he was being even more snippy than usual because of his lost friend. If Souma lost one of his dear friends, like Kamegorou or Saigoudon, he doesn’t think he’d be very calm either.

“Where did you leave off your search, Oogami?” Adonis spoke up.

“I was heading back towards ES to see if Leon had somehow gone back home without me. But I realized how late it was getting, so I called it quits… Let’s split up. Zakki, go towards ES and see if he somehow made his way back towards that area. Adonis, you come with me and we’ll both look around the area of the dog park separately.”

They both nodded, and they all headed off on their separate missions.

───────

As the sun began to set, Koga allowed himself to feel an emotion he had not allowed himself to feel all day: dread. He and Adonis had searched an even wider area than he was able to cover this morning. He had begun to ask locals if they had seen a corgi waddling around, but both of them had come up empty handed on any sort of lead.

Only around 6pm did they finally allow themselves a break. They found a nice local cafe to get a rest from the cold in, just to warm up a bit before they ultimately headed back to ES. Adonis watched as Koga took a phone call while he got their drinks. “Was that someone calling about Leon?”

Koga sighed. “Nah. It was Sengoku calling on Zakki’s behalf. He didn’t find anything in the direct area around ES. Leon isn’t there.”

Adonis frowned at that, “I’m truly sorry, Oogami. I cannot shake the feeling this is my fault…”

“S’not your fault, I already told you that. You don’t have’ta feel guilty over it, Adonis. It was me who shouldn’ta let him off the leash in the first place. He never does stuff like this though! He’s never just run away from me like that before… And I mean honestly, how far could he have even gotten?!”

Adonis frowned at Koga’s attempt at a joke. “So what is your plan n-”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. Did you two gentlemen say you were looking for a corgi?”

Koga immediately shot to attention. One of the cafe’s waitresses had timidly approached the table. “Yes. Why? Have you seen one? What do you know?!” Koga frantically asked. Her eyes widened, slightly, at the sudden outburst of her patron.

“I… Two gentlemen came in here earlier, one of them was carrying a corgi. They got drinks and dessert, and a small cup of whipped cream for him, dined, and then left…I vaguely remember them discussing needing to return him to his owner.”

Holy shit. Leon WAS kidnapped! He was fucking dognapped! Whoever the bastards were, they knew they had stolen the Oogami Koga’s dog, and they were gonna ransom him out for money! Or something potentially worse! Koga didn’t know what he was gonna do, he was an idol sure, but he didn’t have Leon ransom money?! Maybe he can convince the company to pay, or get Tenshouin to use some rich person trickery bullshit to figure out who kidnapped his damn dog-

“May I ask, what did they all look like?,” Adonis asked. “Both the dog and the two men,” he added.

She thought about it for a second, “The dog… was orange with white patches on his face and belly. Definitely a corgi breed.” Adonis and Koga shared a quick look. Definitely Leon. “And the two men… One had long-ish black hair, and scarlet eyes, and the other had blonde hair and brown eyes, but- oh, they kinda looked grey when the light hit them right. He was very charming, the way he talked, and-”

When Adonis looked back to Koga, he could practically feel the rage billowing off him in hot waves. “Those fucking assholes.” Cutting off the women from her rambling about how this handsome blonde stranger’s casual flirtatious compliments made her double shift totally worth it, Koga angrily grabbed his jacket and got up. Adonis quickly bowed in apology towards her as he followed Koga out the door. “I’m seriously gonna kill ‘em this time. They stole my fucking dog!”

“Oogami. We don’t know why Sakuma-senpai and Hakaze-senpai took Leon. We have to hear them out first.”

“I’m not hearin’ shit from the two of them! They’re both gonna fuckin’ die today!”

───────

The door to the Rhythm Link office space Rei and Kaoru were occupying slammed open. Koga was immediately greeted with the sight of the two of them lounging on the couches located at the back wall, filling out paperwork. And there, on Kaoru’s lap being absentmindedly pet, was Leon, napping without a care in the world. He seethed even more.

“YOU TWO.” Rei and Kaoru both looked up at him with surprise. Rei shook it off quickly, “Doggy. We were hoping you would stop by today.” Noticing Adonis standing anxiously behind Koga, Rei smiled at him. “Ah, hello to you as well, Adonis-kun.”

“Hello, Sakuma-senpai.”

“Don’t be nice to these thieves!,” Koga said as he turned around to reprimand Adonis. He whipped back around. “You two stole my dog!”

Having been woken up from his nap, Leon finally noticed his owner’s presence. He immediately hauled himself up, and Kaoru unfolded himself to allow Leon to jump off his lap and bound towards Koga. As soon as he reached grabbing distance, Koga snatched Leon up into his arms. He hugged him close and pressed his face into the side of his neck.

“Fuckin’ scared me…” Koga whispered into his neck, soft enough so only Leon could hear. Angry as he was, having Leon back in his arms significantly dampened the rage he had felt. Not that he was gonna let his seniors know that though.

He adjusted Leon so that he was pressed against his chest, head on his shoulder as if he were a baby. Koga stood up, made sure his dog was still comfortable, then glared at Rei and Kaoru. “Alright, ‘fess up. Why did you two take my dog, and then not bother to tell me you had him all day? I was goin’ crazy all day thinking I lost him. It’s really pissin’ me off that you two had him all day and didn’t fuckin’ tell me.”

Rei yawned. “Are you not glad that he was found and isn’t out there wandering the frozen streets? He even got to spend his day being spoiled by his favorite grandparents~”

“Don’t call yourself that!”

Rei shrugged as he continued absentmindedly filling out whatever bullshit paperwork they had been working on. Kaoru, at least, had the decency to look guilty. “We were gonna bring him back to you, honest!”

Koga continued to glared, unimpressed with this answer. Kaoru shrank back, still attempting to hold a kind smile, but evidently crumbling under his gaze. “Rei-kun and I were going out for brunch and we found him running around in an alley. Since you weren’t with him, we figured he was lost but my phone was dead, and Rei-kun’s-” Kaoru looked at Rei, exacerbated. “You wanna tell Koga-kun what happened to your phone?”

Koga switched his attention back to Rei, who now looked like he was actively trying to hide from this conversation, paperwork entirely covering his face. Realizing he had become the center of attention, he slowly lowered them, a feigned nonchalant smile on his face. “Ah… well… It’s truly an almost chivalrous story, if you think about i-”

“Rei-kun.”

Rei deflated at his partner's condemnation. “... You see, Kaoru-kun and I attended a dinner meeting last night to meet with Hasumi-kun, Kiryuu-kun, a handful of representatives from an advertising firm, and some of the companies’ higher ups to discuss some business about our units’ involvement in an upcoming advertising campaign for a brand of instant ramen. It was truly a beautiful establishment that they booked, with a dazzling view of the city skyline, and you could even get a stunning view of the ocean-”

“Get to the fuckin’ point.” Koga barked.

“... In my, truly noble might I add, attempt to get Kaoru-kun a picture of the view with my mobile phone’s camera… It seems that I was not being careful enough, and I dropped it off the balcony.” Rei hung his head in shame at the admission. “The representatives, at least, found my fumble amusing.”

“And so, neither of us had phones we could use to call you. We were planning on just taking Leon-chan back to you when you were done with classes, and we were done with all this paperwork, but it's ended up taking much longer than we thought it would.” Kaoru finished, sighing over the misfortune.

Koga squinted at the two of them. “That all sounds like a buncha bullshit you two made up. What’s the real version?”

Kaoru frantically shook his head. “Nonono! I promise it’s the truth!! Believe me, I wish I could make up the story of Rei dropping his phone off a balcony in front of all those important businessmen. Hasumi-kun was not happy with us on the ride back to the dorms…”

Adonis interrupted to ask, “Did it hit anyone when it fell? I cannot imagine that would have ended well if it had.”

“Thankfully, it did not.” Rei said, mood shifting back to being annoyingly playful. “To be quite honest, I do not understand why Hasumi-kun was so displeased with my actions. The representatives loved it, and it’s not as if it was his mobile phone-”

“Shaddup. You two are idiots.” Koga said, finally reaching his limit with the conversation. “C’mon Leon. Let’s get you cleaned up since you were apparently playin’ in the trash. Let’s go, Adonis.”

“Koga-kun!” As the three of them turned to leave, Kaoru suddenly got up to stop them. “We’re sorry. Really. We didn’t mean to scare you so bad. We know how much Leon-chan means to you, so we thought it was best if we looked after him. We should’ve found a way to tell you sooner.”

Rei nodded in agreement. “Rei-chan is weally sowwy~”

Kaoru scowled, Koga scoffed. Realizing his error in determining the mood, he quickly added, “Ah, I mean, what I meant was that we are truly sorry, Koga-kun. Kaoru-kun is right when he said that we should have made more substantial attempts to contact you. We apologize.” As if planned, they both bowed to him and Leon in sincere apology.

“Oogami, I think they are serious.” Adonis whispered.

“... Did you guys at least feed him?”

Kaoru perked up at that, “Yes! I used some steak pieces that someone left in the fridge with a “free to use” note on them, along with his usual food combination to make him something gourmet~! He really liked it, from what I could tell.”

Rei smiled. “Though it was safer with us, he kept trying to find his way to your dorm room. If I had to guess, he must have simply wandered too far in his excitement at the fresh winter snow, but he made some truly valiant attempts to get away from us to find you.”

“Heh, good boy.” Koga grinned at his dog. He knew he would never purposefully run away from him. “... Fine. You two are forgiven. If anything like this ever happens again though, you both are fuckin’ dead, hear me?”

“Yes, Wan-chan~”

“Understood~”

“Good. Adonis, let’s go.” As Koga turned to leave, Adonis bowed in departure to their seniors.

They walked to the elevator in comfortable silence. Leon had fallen back asleep, face pressed safely into the side of Koga’s neck. Once in the elevator that would take them back down to the dorm levels, Adonis broke the silence. “Oogami… I still feel bad about you having lost Leon-san. Seeing you reunited with him has made me even more aware of the damage I have caused, so I must offer my help with bathing him, if you will let me.”

If getting close with Adonis has taught him anything, it's Adonis’ tells when he's not being entirely forward with his feelings. Adonis was shy, but never closed off. Right now, his body language was almost anxious; arms crossed and looking downwards. If Koga had to guess, he didn’t truly still feel bad about being the cause for Leon’s brief disappearance.

Koga’s eyes softened. “If you just wanted to spend more time with him, you coulda just said so.”

“I apologize.”

“Didn’t mean it in a bad way. ‘Course you can come help me… If you wanna…”

Adonis smiled at him. “I’d like that very much.”

#ensemble stars #enstars #koga oogami #adonis otogari #souma kanzaki #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze #quickly put this saved url i had lying around into use so i could post this on here LOL #in case you were wondering why there was no content..#ill probably start using it more often to reblog art and for any future fics i post. Yeah <3

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