#long-haired collie

[dogandcatcomics]

#repost @arnamiller Arna Miller (Denver, Colorado, USA). Pastel drawing of a dog, ostensibly a long-haired collie, waiting next to an empty armchair below the northern lights. Described as being based on a vintage department store advertisement. I am a fan of the ample animal representation in Miller's work.

[bonefall]

"Sunbeam briefly think of dyeing her fur in rememberance of her mother" if this is real this is beyond parody actually

It HAS to be a misconception, like, maybe she just wishes she looked more like her mom instead of dyeing her fur. Where the hell would the cats get white dye when the writers won't even give them FIRE??

The truth; she's gonna go to the Cat Hair Salon and get the Karen Bangs that people like to draw Berryheart with lmaoooo

[kangals]

having a lovely time admiring my newly-pruned shrimp tank

oh hey guys, look at you up in the grass! You having fun in there?

wait what’s that you’re fiddling with - is that -

COLLIE HAIR

[sandu7174]

Practiced drawing different breeds of dogs. I never really draw a specific breed of dog, I just draw a stereotypically canine creature without any breed in mind and I think that's an issue. So I want to fix it! I used references I found on Google.

🤍 Reblogs are appreciated! 🤍

[zapsoda]

while researching for the furry drawing i googled "most neurotic dog breeds" and jack russell terrier came up and i love those dogs. jimmy would be a street mutt but the idea of him being like 80% nutty jack russell terrier is so beautiful to me

[shed0kryptz]

ignore the quality but I MADE COLLYS HAIR SO FUCKIGN COMPLICATED WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF !1!2!2!1! UUUGHH I STILL HAVE TO DRAW THE OTHER SIDE !1!1!1! IM GONNA HAVE TO PUT ITS HOOD ON MORE SO I DONT HAVE TO DRAW ALL OF THIS PAIN !1!2!1!1!1!1! BOTH OF THEM HAVE HARD HAIR TO DRAW BUT OHHH MY GOOOODDD it’s okay tho i still love this stupid crusty crinkly napkin carbon fuck and its hair (/j)

[cheolism-archive]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓾𝓹

border-collie hybrid!kim mingyu x reader wc is approx 1.5k tags: mingyu's canon praise kink, oral (fem receiving) warning: relationship undefined, can make any insinuations abt the nature of their relationship note: if anyone has any thots abt pathetic puppy hybrid gyu pls stop by my inbox so we can chat abt it cause. i'm absolutely normal abt this concept. thank u @whipped-for-kpop-fics for the title, ty @lovetaroandtaemin and @yoonguurt for getting excited for me keke divider one credit ; divider two credit

whatever you do, don't think about your precious puppy hybrid kim mingyu. don't think about his overly large black ears, his eyes that shine with cleverness and adoration both, his tail and how it always seems to knock over the most delicate object in the room.

okay: you've thought about your kim mingyu. that can't be helped. but absolutely don't think about your pup when you come home after a day of work.

don't think about him.

don't think about how you can hear him whine as you fumble with your keys, trying to find the correct one to insert into the lock. you asked him once how he always seems to know it's you; he said he could smell you as soon as you stepped off of the elevator, your sweet perfume and natural fragrance a heavenly scent after he passed an entire day yearning for your return.

as soon as you open the door, mingyu's on you. he's pushing your bag down onto the floor, twisting the keys from the lock. he pulls you inside the apartment and shuts and locks the door, and then he's crowding close.

don't think about how mingyu molds his body to yours. he traps you against the door, his face burrowing into your neck. you can feel his inhales against your skin, can feel him drinking in your scent after a long day apart.

his hands are constantly grabbing at you. he feels your hips, feels your stomach. mingyu's large hands make their way over your torso, pushing at your tits, feeling the weight of them. he mouths at the skin of your neck, and when he presses his hips to yours you can feel just how excited he is to see you.

even through all the fabric of your clothes and his you can feel how erect he is, how his poor dick betrays how eager mingyu is to see you — as if the pup was ever able to keep himself from showing how excited he is.

don't think about how he whines so sweetly, a high thing in the back of his throat, when you settle your hands on his hips.

mingyu bucks into you, dick searching for relief. his nose presses against your ear lobe, slides along the curve of your jaw, and then he's biting you.

you can feel his teeth dig into the supple flesh of your neck, marking you. immediately you hiss, one of your hands flying to his shoulder and slapping.

"bad boy," you scold him, "no biting."

mingyu whines again. don't think about how beautifully he whines; don't think about how his eyes would look at you after you scold him, the sweet, deep brown color of them nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. his tail, half black and white, the tell-tale colors of his border collie-hybrid breeding, hangs between his legs in shame.

"i'm sorry, pretty," he says, lips pursed out in a pout. "just missed you. missed you so much while you were gone."

"you can't bite," you say again. "only bad puppies bite. are you a bad pup, gyu?"

mingyu shakes his head hurriedly. his eyes take on a slight watery look. "i'm not bad."

he licks at the path of skin he had bitten, tongue fat and warm. don't think about his tongue. don't think about how he licks and licks, his rush to reassure you of his good pup nature making his licks travel. he licks at your neck, at the little hollow of your throat. he sucks at the bit of collarbone poking out from your shirt, gently taking the skin between his teeth.

mingyu sucks at your skin, his head ducking. "tell me i'm a good pup," he begs, nuzzling into your tits. "please, pretty. tell me 'm good."

sighing, you reach up and tangle your hands into his hair. don't think about how soft it is, how the chocolate curls feel like silk. you settle your hands around the base of his black ears, thumbs gently pressing in. you can't help but grin a little as mingyu moans.

"i don't know," you say, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. mingyu's tail perks, wagging gently. "not very good of you to bite me."

"i can make it up to you," he says, eyes shining and mouth beginning to spread in an eager grin; eager to prove just how good he is to you; how he's your sweet pup, your good, sweet boy.

you lift your brows.

don't think about the image mingyu would make, his large canine teeth on display as he grins, brilliant and triumphant as he goes to his knees. mingyu nuzzles into you once his knees hit the hardwood floor of your apartment. he presses his face into the cloth that covers where your thigh meets your groin.

for a moment mingyu just sits there, nose pressed into the fabric. you can feel his heavy breath through your pants. don't think about what he smells; don't think about how long he sits there, enjoying the scent of you.

"'m a good boy," mingyu says, his eyes flicking up to yours.

and then he's pressing his face into your cunt.

mingyu presses his nose against the fabric, and you can feel his nose as he searches for your cunt, for where that sweet scent of you is thickest.

he whines, pulling away with a frown. mingyu reaches up, his fingers sinking into the waistband of your pants. "can i take your pants off? please?"

you nod. he skims his fingers over the waistband to press at the button, popping it through. he pulls your pants down. mingyu watches raptly as he pulls your pants, eyes taking in every inch of skin as if he had never seen it before, as if he didn't plead with you every night for you to walk around without pants so he could visually devour the plushness of your thighs.

you step out of your pants once they're around your ankles. mingyu takes them, hurriedly folding them before setting them next to him.

"see," he says, pointedly glancing down at the folded pants. "i'm a good boy."

you sigh.

mingyu shuffles forward, and then he's pressing his face into your panties. the seat of them is wet, of course, with your juices from having been excited as soon as mingyu cornered you against the door. mingyu presses his nose into that wetness, breathing it in and drowning in it.

you put your hands in his curls. you tug, gently. "just gonna smell?"

"can't help it," he says, honest. "you smell so good."

to prove himself, mingyu rolls his tongue out of his mouth and licks a stripe along the seat of your panties. immediately your cunt is clenching down around nothing, hips canting forward to try and search for further sensation.

"taste so good," mingyu moans. he licks another broad stripe along your pussy. he starts at your hole, dragging it along your folds to dig at your clit. mingyu whines a little, and then he's lifting a hand and moving your panties aside.

you can feel the drag of the elastic across your pussy, can feel it when the cool air of the apartment reaches your cunt. your cunt isn't left wanting for long, however.

mingyu surges back to your pussy. he sticks his tongue between the folds of your cunt, the tip dipping into your hole. for a moment mingyu just suckles at your juices, just laps them up like the good pup he is.

his tongue is constant against your hole, pushing against it before dipping inside. you can feel his nose against your clit, can feel the tip of it bumping against your bundle of nerves but never quite pressuring it enough.

mingyu pulls back. he grabs at one of your thighs, and then he's lifting your thigh up over his shoulder. don't think about how his tail beats down on the apartment floor eagerly, how happy he is to please you.

with your leg over his shoulder, mingyu is able to lick at your pussy better. he laps and licks, sloppy without much technique. he just wants to taste, wants to please.

you can't help but moan, your grip on his hair tight. mingyu's so eager that you can't do anything other than stand there and take it, can't do anything other than stand there and let him devour.

eventually mingyu decides to go further. he wiggles two of his fingers — fat and long and perfect — to your pussy hole. mingyu moves his head to lap at your clit, tongue sliding up your cunt.

his fingers stretch at your cunt. they're just shy of too big, spreading your pussy and making it ache in a sharp, pleasant way. he fucks your cunt with his fingers, wanting to prove to you he's good, he's your good boy.

and he won't move until you're sobbing it. he won't move until there's tears pouring down your cheeks and juices staining the inside of your thighs. mingyu won't move, won't relent, until you're weeping against the apartment door about how much of a good boy he is, about how sweet and good and perfect he is.

so yes: whatever you do, don't think about your sweet, pathetic, and eager puppy hybrid waiting at home.

[onlyrains]

[5:21pm]

genre: comfort, fluff wc: 1.1k ┊not proofread!

you are nothing near from being the greatest singer of the century, to begin with. you're not even a singer at all. but layla, a border collie of your best friend's–jake, might be your first fan ever.

whenever she sees you around in some comfortable circumstances, she's never hesitate to lay down beside you and sometimes even rest her jaw on your thigh. on top of that, one day when jake come to your place to check on you while you lay sick on your bed, she also lies and put her paw on your arm.

she keeps ignoring her nature as one of the most active and energetic breed and you have a soft spot for her also. so of course, you always gladly sing for her. you even made a playlist to sing for her, which full of coldplay's old songs that you found she loves the most.

as an owner, jake found this quite beneficial sometimes when he needs to done his things but very much confused at the same time. what's up with your voice? he's a good singer too. people even recognize him for that. but why's his dog, his best buddy, his love, never react the way she does for you?

"she's my child, jake." you always say.

"stop saying that. i literally clean, do the chores, and work for her?" and he always replies.

today, as he promised yesterday, he came to your place with layla. and no, you're not sick today, it's apparently the opposite. he arrived with a pissed, frustrated face and refuse to talk fifteen minutes ago. he's just walks around your living room with his disheveled white office shirt.

you continue to read your book while playing with layla's hair and humming to coldplay's song. you make sure to open your bedroom door widely to let him know that he can come in when he's ready. it's not the first time you've seen jake in this state and you know the best way to deal with it is just let him do anything he wants. he will talk about it when he's tired.

speaking of which, the tail of your eye catches his movement towards you. well, maybe it is a very serious matter since he has never got tired this quick.

"what's up?" you snap, closing your book on your stomach. layla got up at your sudden movement as she sees her owner walks in your direction. she jumps on the floor and her favorite song is now long gone.

"jake?" he sits on layla's spot earlier and lets out a deep sigh.

"it's work." his eyes looking at the white sheets beneath him and draw an imaginary circle with his index.

"i know. wanna talk about it?"

he drags his body to lay next to you, head burried in your pillow while his arms stretched out to his side and your neck, almost choking you.

"i don't know, girl. i'm just... tired."

"is it that bad?" you ask carefully.

he nods. "there's a problem with the project and this mf blame me for it," he groans. thank god your pillow muffled his voice.

"oh? what a prick."

"can you sing for me?" he raises his head.

you never turn your head so fast.

"what?" you blurt out a laugh.

he lies on his side, perfectly facing you. "oh, c'mon. you always make layla chill out with it."

"but you're not layla?"

"i'm her owner, you know. she's my daughter. like father like dau–"

"okay, stop. you started sound silly,"

"babe, c'mon. i just need to sleep. you know how much effort i put on this project? i barely had a proper sleep,"

as soon as that pet name came out of his mouth you know it's hard to win over him. he will starts pleading as soon as he can, so you let out a heavy sigh and stretch out your arm reluctantly.

"c'mere,"

the next thing you know, he already burried his head on your shoulder. well, actually, this is your first time being this close with him in this kind of position despite your nth years of friendship.

so when he’s seemingly already found his spot on the crook of your neck, you can't help but squirm a little, but jake is too quick to catch your waist to prevent you from moving anywhere.

"don't move." he says against your neck.

you bite your inner cheek to hold back a sharp gasp that almost come out of nowhere.

you take a deep breath before placing your hand on his head, brushing his hair lightly. you decide to continue to sing to spark, which was previously forcibly cut off.

"my heart is yours," you start to whisper.

"it's you that i hold on to,

that's what i do,

and i know i was wrong,

but i won't let you down,

mmm, yeah, i will, yeah, i will, yes, i will," your voice get slightly lower.

"i said, oh,

i cry, oh,

yeah, i saw sparks,

yeah, i saw sparks." you massage his scalp lightly.

"sing it out,

la la la la la la,"

you feel his breathing becomes steady while in fact he's just enjoying his action to inhaling your scent that mixed with a soft fragrant from your newly washed sweater. he has never been this relax in a long time.

you keep on with the lyrics in humming as your eyes glued to the plain ceiling of your room. you feel his arm is still lazily attached to your waist then what are you doing, really? is it normal to cuddle your friend from high school? is it okay to comfort your guy friend like this?

you haven't finished think about that but jake already raised his head.

his eyes slightly red from the drowsiness that suddenly hit him but the smile on his mouth is as wide as ever. "y'know, layla actually has a good taste."

a heat suddenly strikes your cheek, causing it to turn to a shade of red.

his head turns to his dog on the floor. "dang, my girl is talented, for real."

you roll your eyes at him. "okay, now move."

he's quick to back on his previous spot, even more suffocating right now as he pulls you impossibly close to his body.

he tilts his head upward to face you. his wet eyes stares at you so innocently, which quite opposite to his actions that practically hugging you so tight while trying to sleep.

"ey, c'mon, don't be so stingy," he snuggles to you, again.

you bite your lip this time. maybe you just as tired as him, but you swear, you saw the sparks.

[bouncybongfairy]

Study Buddies

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Fem Reader

Summary: Peter Parker is your neighbor and, to put it bluntly, you've had a thing for him since moving in. One night, Peter discovers you're doing a report on the T. fabricii spider. This species is known for bounding and biting the female before sex. Peter decides to give you a live demonstration of this.

Word Count: 2.5k+

TW: Rough Sex, Blood Kink, Bondage, Nasty Smut.

Go to reference blog for smut: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

To say you somewhat keep an eye on the sad man who lives across from you would be an understatement. Part of you felt like it was wrong to invade anyone’s privacy in such a way; the other side didn’t share these same morals. Living on your own, for the first time at 19 was really overwhelming. When you first caught a glimpse of him through the window above your bed, while reading After We Collied by Anna Todd. It had been a long day, School 9:00 am to 12:30 pm then work from 1:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Not to mention the homework and reading assignments from your professors. Even though you had a stack of homework needing attention you were procrastinating by reading. Feeling your stomach tightening and a hot blush creep onto your face. Then your ears started burning, which made you set down the book and get a glass of water. You saw him through the window as you walked back into the bedroom. He was taking his shirt off, setting his hands on his desk, and letting his head low. Either he was covered in a thin layer of sweat or water from the shower covered his body. You could see every muscle in his back and arms under his skin, completely flexed like he was in pain. His hair was brown and shaggy, flopping in front of his face, covering his eyes and nose. Cuts and bruises were scattered around his body, his mouth was hung open. Saliva was making his pink bottom lip glisten from the glow of the laptop on his desk. He was inspecting his own body, looking at all the cuts and abrasions. Out of nowhere, he moves to look directly at your window, which makes you drop onto the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Your cat was so spooked, he attempted to run under the bed but unfortunately his rolls prevented him from doing so. You crawled over and began soothing him. 

“You don’t think he saw me right?” you asked as you gave him kisses between his ears. You were really hoping he didn’t see you, your hair was wrapped up in a towel for god sakes.

Standing up slowly, you checked to see if he was still there. When you checked, the lights in the bedroom were cut off making it impossible to see anything. After turning the T.V on and getting comfortable in bed again, you realize you can’t stop thinking about him. His body was so long and lanky, yet his muscles were still so defined and toned. You clear off your bed, and try to act like seeing your neighbor indisposed isn't affecting you. The next morning, you’d completely forgotten about last night's events. In fact, you were feeling quite chipper, immediately filling the cat's bowl. It was Friday and you couldn't be more excited to sit around and rot for the weekend. You were currently working at a bug museum that was a couple hours away from your college. It was super convenient not only distance wise but you loved the job. Sure the kids could get sticky and annoying but you liked working with all the insects. Nobody could waterboard this out of you but ever since you started working there, you’d become quite sweet on Spider-Man. It didn’t take long for you to put the pieces of the puzzle together to figure out his identity. Sometimes as you unlocked the door to the apartment building, you’d see a single web hanging from his window. Other times, you’d hear police sirens and then you’d hear the loud screeching of a heavy fire escape window open then close. You started keeping notes of all these little things. Currently being the manager of the Spider section of the museum, it gave you an excuse to research till your fingers bled. Trying to figure out what species of spider he could be. A theory you were itching to prove true or false, was that Spider-Man didn’t have naturally occurring webs but rather man made. A healthy spider doesn’t normally have a limit to the silk it can produce. When you watched him fight, he would eventually stop using his webs and rely more on crawling or jumping. You had a notebook where you noted all these little observations and ideas. 

After taking the subway to school, you rushed to get to your lecture on time. Calculus and Zoology were the last two classes of the week. Many of your peers had dropped the class by this point but that didn’t bother you one bit. It only meant more attention for you, not to mention the teachers became less… picky when it came to assignments. Hell there were times when you thought your English professor used your class as a rant session. You were praying the professors would take it easy on the class, you know… get into that Friday spirit a little early; they didn’t. As pitiful as it was to admit you were actually looking forward to your Zoology assignment; a research paper of an animal of your choice. As sad as that sounded, you really were excited about it, at this point it was like a special interest. 

Work was quite slow, only a couple people wandered in and left once they realized it wasn’t a themed cafe. This made you chuckle every time before turning back to your laptop. Honestly, you hated it a lot more than it was slow. When it was busy, it distracted you from being on your feet for 8 hours. Before leaving, you grabbed a book on the spider you chose for your report: Thanatus fabricii. The owner ended up closing early for the day which you didn’t mind at all. Practically skipping to the taxi you’d just hailed down. It was coming down so hard that you were practically soaked by the time you made it inside the building. Hair dripping and makeup beginning to feel sticky. It took you a couple times to shove the door open due to the weather making them expand and warp. Fat-Boy came and greeted you while opening the door. Meowing like he’s never eaten before in his life. You giggled at his nervous pacing while scooping a couple cups into his bowl. Setting your bags on the counter and pulling out your laptop, book and notebooks, typing at the rough draft of your essay. Suddenly Fat-Boy began clawing at the bedroom door which prompted you to go investigate. Walking into your bedroom and opening the door you shiver from how cold the air is. After flicking the lights on, you immediately notice the window was open. You rush over to close it, luckily there wasn’t too much water damage from the rain. Your stomach was doing summer salts, especially because you know it was closed before you left. Running back into the kitchen, trying to find a knife to arm yourself with. You could practically hear your heart beating in your ears. Suddenly something drops from the ceiling, causing you to scream. Immediately you recognized him as Peter, eyes dark and brows furrowed. He slowly started moving closer, you were frozen in fear. In complete shock, your flight or fight reflex is fully engaged. You thought he was coming towards you but instead, he went over to your computer and notes. Every once in a while his eyes would widen or he would chuckle. As scared as you were, you couldn’t help but take in all his little details. The cuts on his face or the bruising under his eyes. 

“I knew you were a horny little freak but I didn’t realize how nasty you really were,” he said, breaking you out of the dissociation you fell into. Still frozen in fear, you held up the knife a little higher, hands still shaking. 

“You’ve been studying me?” he asked, using a web to take the knife from your grip.

“I’m honestly impressed. I originally thought you were watching me because you wanted proof of my identity. I didn’t realize you were stalking me because of an infatuation,” he said, coming closer. 

You booked it, running towards the front door attempting to pry it open. Once you finally manage to rip it open, a web flies past you. Slamming the door closed with a loud bang. Immediately you run to the bedroom, knowing the fire escape is there. By the time you reached the window, he was already right behind you. He grabbed your arm and turned you around so you were facing him. His grip was strong, stone locked onto both arms. This was the first time you’d ever gotten a good look at his face. He looked like he was fraying at the edges. Eyes with pupils so wide they looked black, both eyebrows had splits in them. Bruising around his eyes and spread around his face. 

“I saw you’re doing a report on the T. fabricii spider, have you finished your research about how they mate?” he asked, you just stared at him. Ashamed that you were finding this erotic. The entire time you’d been watching him, he’d been doing the same. Made you feel inferior, like you weren’t as slick as you once thought. He wasn’t pleased with your silence and shook you a little to break you out of that trance. 

“No,” you said weakly, he let go of one of your arms and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. 

“They bite and bound the females before mating to avoid being eaten. Doesn’t that seem… efficient,” he said chuckling slightly. 

You were unsure of how to react, his energy becoming harder and harder to read. Originally you thought he only had violent intentions due to him discovering your infatuation. Knowing that his intentions were more sexual made you feel less stressed or scared. He let go of your arms and moved his hands to your waist then to your hips. You shivered as goosebumps began to prickle along your skin. Lowering his head a bit, he runs his lips over your ear and down your neck. Your back arches involuntarily, drawing a deep breath in from the sensation. 

“I like touch starved whores,” he growled into your ear, picking you up and using his body to press you against the wall, “getting wet from the littlest things, like me breathing down your neck or gripping your arm a little too tight,” he said into your ear. 

Not being able to take the build-up anymore, you smash your lips against his. The kiss was rough, continuously biting and nipping at your lip. Your mouth started to taste metallic, making you pull away. He didn’t let you, tangling his fist in your hair. Moving the two of you from the wall to the bed. The way he picked you up and threw you around made you feel weightless. Completely at the mercy of his strength, you welcomed it nervously. Teeth chattering and hands shaking, he was sucking hickies on your neck to the point where it was hurting. Starting to squirm a bit, he secures your wrists to the head board with webbing. Doing the same to your feet, completely paralyzing you. Instead of pulling your clothes off he rips them from your body. His strength and pure brute force was daunting, shredding fabric like it was paper. After undressing himself, he crawls back up. You couldn’t hold back a couple gasps and moans, feeling the tip of his length trace up your leg then inner thigh. He looked angry and focused solely on you. He rested his elbows by your ears, not caring that he was pulling the fuck out of your hair. This caused you to squirm even more, in reaction to this he sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You cried out in pain as he slowly started adding more pressure to his bite. The hot burning sensation causes more pleasure than it should. Trying to aid the aching feeling from the lack of touch, you rub your thighs together. Spread your wetness all over your thighs. Becoming irritated with your lack of patients, he uses his knees to separate your legs. Letting go of your shoulder to sink his teeth into your neck. Now biting harder and more often; moving from your neck to your chest and other shoulder. You were beginning to foggy, face bright red and flushed. Once he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention back to you. Grabbing you by the jaw to see the state of you. He practically moaned when seeing how glazed over your eyes were. Rubbing his shaft in between your folds, broke you out of this trance. Bucking your hips up, trying to create more friction between the two of you. Not liking how much control you had over your movements, he began binding you up tighter to the bed. Once he was confident in your restriction, he started pushing himself inside you. He was grunting and cursing under his breath, your legs being tied together making you that much tighter. He was big and you could feel yourself stretch around him. He buried his face into your shoulder, practically panting as he fucked in and out of you. The overstimulation being caused by the pain and pleasure simultaneously was driving you crazy. His arms were wrapped around your neck, almost suffocating you as he pounded frantically. Your moans and cries were strangled and garbled. A mixture of sweat and tears were running down your face. Being completely bound and restricted was making your stomach cramp with frustration. Unable to touch him or not being able to match his energy. 

He slowed down for a second and turned to make eye contact with you. His mouth was covered in blood from how often and forcefully he was biting you. Mouth hanging open and his face glistened in sweat. He catches your lips with his, indicating a sloppy kiss. He’s completely slowed his thrusts down to an agonizing pace. All your frustration and over stimulation coming to a head, you bite down on his lip as hard as you can. He pulls his head back and looks down at you with a shocked expression. 

“Faster,” you beg, accidentally spitting a bit of blood onto his face. He smirks down at you, before wrapping his hands around your neck. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be making demands,” He growled at you before slamming his dick inside you. 

He was now using his hands around your throat to support his weight. It didn’t matter to you because he was now pounding into you at full force. Almost showing that he was as frantic to reach his orgasm as you were. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting your body go limp. Sucking in strangled breaths, he paid no regard to this to catch up at his current pace. You were getting close, your walls pulsating around him. Your pussy was contracting around him as you came. Black dots appear in your vision as you ride out that high. Seeing and feeling you cum was enough to send him over the edge. Rutting and spurting into you, completely blissed out as he came. Immediately after he was done he didn’t bother letting you free from the webbing. You were too exhausted and braindead to care.

[mustangbby]

BORDER COLLIE: PT.2 - boothill x reader

- in the first part, you left off by telling boothill your pregnant. how does he react? part 1 here

- people asked for a second part, so here u go!!!!! i honestly lovwd writing this and im so sorry for my lack of posting... i have summer school now (i want to jump whoever decided summer school would be a good idea). anwyays enjoy!

- pre cyborg boothill, mentions of pregnancy, happy endings bc im done hurting my little itty bitty princess huhuhu, all fluff!!!, wc none this time, too lazy to check

"You're what?"

It took Boothill a second to process what it was that you had just said. He gave you a shocked stare for a moment before a small smile creeped up on his face.

"Tha's why you were so hesitant about the dog!"

You laughed at what he had said. He was certainly focusing on the wrong thing... but he sure has the spirit, right? He waited another moment, looking between you and your first daughter.

He didn't really know how to process the fact that now he'll be a father of two. But mostly the fact that you're actually going to be carrying it this time, unlike the last. After a few more moments of thinking it over, he looked over at your daughter, who was smiling and shouting "baby! baby! baby!" in her seat.

He launched into a hug, almost tackling you to the ground with his force. He was just so excited, who was to blame him? You were very confident in his abilities to take care of a brand new newborn, and also confident that he'd get through your pregnancy with you pretty well. He was an outstanding father, so what would change in a similar, yet so different experience?

"Really?? How long have y' known?" He mumbles into your shoulder, and you swear you felt a tear embed itself into your sleeve. "Do you know anything 'bout gender? Due date?"

You laughed, stroking his hair. "I've known probably for a week now. You were super busy when I found out, and I thought now was the appropriate time to tell you, considering the mood was chill and we're all here together."

He nods, releasing his grasp from your torso and going around to grab your daughter out of her high-chair and bringing her into a three hug. She was going to be a big sister soon, and for Boothill to even think about that seemed like a dream to him. He was officially going to be a father of two!

"Whens the due date????" He questioned. You shrugged, explaining to him that you wanted to wait to go to the first doctors appointment with him, and wanted to find all of this out at the same time he does. He felt joyful at your claim, happy that you didn't want to go behind his back.

You three moved to the couch, cuddling and watching a random kids show that your daughter happened to like. It put her to sleep right away, leaving you and Boothill to watch whatever. You turn on a more mature show when you put her in her crib, settling down next to him.

"Once this ones born, then maybe we can think about a dog."

He laughs his usual, hearty laugh before nodding. "Honestly, I think this is 1000 times better than a dog."

[bixbythemartian]

walrus vs. fairy

the funny part is that people who answer walrus are mostly like 'I disagree, but I understand why you would answer fairy' and the people who answered fairy are tearing their hair out. some of them are getting mad and/or mean about it, which is kind of upsetting.

so, I will try to help explain.

this will not be about walrus logistics, I promise.

some people believe in fairies. full stop.

fully believe they are real. probably a lot more people than you would be happy about, but you have to allow for this to be true.

even among those who don't wholeheartedly believe in fairies, there's a lot more people who are agnostic about fairies.

people willing to admit that they're not sure if fairies are real, but willing to hedge on the side of maybe the fairies are real.

like, if you rephrased the question 'would you be more surprised to see an angel or a walrus at your door' you would probably be less surprised to see that people would be more shocked at the walrus, because you probably already understand that a lot of people believe in angels and consider them real, whether or not you believe in angels personally

also the SPN fandom would go ham on that, probably. (this is said with deep affection)

there was a fairly famous road built in Ireland that got rerouted because there was a bush that was important to fairies. (source) the fairy tree stalled the plans for the road for a fucking decade. this happened in my lifetime. people talked about it happening on the internet as it was happening, it's not some weird thing that happened in the middle of nowhere in the 1950s or something. they agreed to go around the damned bush in 1999. I know that seems a long time ago to some of y'all, but it really, really isn't.

there are still people who think the cottingley fairies were real. not a huge amount, but I hope enough to make my point- there's some people who believe in fairies so much and want them to be real so much that they think a famous prank (hoax is stretching it, imo, these girls were pranking their families and the press kind of coincidentally got involved) proves the existence of fairies.

there's a lot, lot, lot more people who believe in fairies and also will admit the cottingley fairies weren't real. the cottingley fairy truthers are a small a percentage of the people who believe in fairies.

I cannot emphasize enough that there are plenty of people who believe fairies are real and even more that could be very easily convinced that fairies are real

people have believed in fairies and been superstitious about fairies for a long, long fucking time

setting aside all of that

some people are more likely to see a thing that isn't real at their door than they are to see a living fucking walrus at their door.

fevers, migraines, mental stress, sleep deprivation (especially if you have sleep disorders, like insomnia or narcolepsy), and infection (among a very long list of other things), and prescription medication side effects can all cause visual hallucinations, and they're all states that you might not be aware that you're in when you start to see weird shit.

these are just the really mundane ones I plucked up off the list.

I have experienced hallucinations due to sleep dep and insomnia. unfortunately, for me, this manifested as a spider the size of a border collie (I wish I were joking) and not fairies, but fairies is a possibility that cannot be counted out.

I'm way more likely to have sleep deprivation and a migraine and a fever all at once than I am to see a walrus in person at a zoo, much less at my door.

it has happened before. it will happen again. it's happening right fucking now.

the fairies can have my birth name if they will take away my migraine.

just putting that out there.

I've never seen a walrus in person at all. I would like to, but it's not likely. there's not any in any of the zoos nearby that I could find.

current likelihood of me seeing a fairy on my doorstep is significantly higher than me seeing a fucking walrus. I am in a physical state where I have had visual hallucinations before, and it's not impossible I will have them again. I would not be particularly surprised, even.

as long as it's not the goddamn massive spider. I even like most spiders, but that is too much spider.

[fictionalmenxyn]

༺𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝༻

Pairing: cowboy!rafe x cowgirl!reader

Warning: language, suggestive touching/speaking and that’s all :)

(Just a blurb not a chapter)

༺❂༻

Just another sunny day at Y/l/n ranch. The warm weather and slight summer breeze runs through your hair. Thankfully the breeze isn’t strong enough to wear a jacket or knock your brown cowboy hat off.

You were currently squatting, grabbing a big bag of chicken feed. As you were about to stand up with the big bag, there was a knock. You looked up, over your shoulder. You smiled at the sight. It was Rafe, his famous smirk on his lips.

“Hey doll, need help?”

“Uh yeah sure, thanks”

You moved out of the way for Rafe to effortlessly pick up the chicken feed and walk out of the storage shed. You point to your quad “just put it on there f’me, please” he nodded and walked over putting the bag down. You climb onto the quad. You look to Rafe “I thought you had to help your dad out today?” He smile and rested his one palm on the front of your quad. “We ended up doing at all yesterday, turns out the fence for the goats didn’t take as long as we thought.”

You smiled “you got the kids?!” He chuckled and nodded “yeah, baby, we got ‘em.” You smile widens “aww, when are they arriving at the ranch?” “Next week, and before you say it, yes, you can come and see ‘em.” You practically squealed in excitement, to which he laughed at.

You offered “since you probably don’t have much to do, you can hang out with me and help a bit…” he smiled and nodded “sure thing, princess.” He walked round and climbed onto the quad. Wrapping his one arm around your waist as the other holds the bag of chicken feed so it wouldn’t fall off. You turned the ignition of the quad before driving it down a small dirt path and over to the ducks and chickens. You park up the quad and climb off, your brown worn in Chelsea Docs hit the dirt and gravel.

You were about to reach for the bag, Rafe swatted your hands away “I’ve got it.” You playfully roll your eyes. He knew you could do it, you’ve done it many times. By he wanted to.

You walk over to the coops, grabbing the ‘egg collector’ your mother would say. It’s a navy apron that has many pockets to fit eggs in. You started to collect the eggs as Rafe would feel the ducks and chickens.

You feel pinching on your leg, you laugh “Betty, quit!” You look down to see the chicken pecking at your leg… once again… like always.

You see Rafe walk back over “how many eggs?” You smile and turn to him “uhh seven chicken, three duck.” He smiles “seems like a good day, eh?” You nod.

You head over to the quad and putting the eggs in the cream that’s tied onto the back of the quad by bungee cords. You carefully place the eggs into the cotton and straw. You look over to see your two border collies run over, Zeus and Athena. You raise an eyebrow, they were in the house earlier. Then you see your younger brother by the open front door. You shout “what’re you doing with the dogs!?” He shouted back “mom said to bring the sheep in, shaving day later today!” You nodded.

Rafe smiled “let’s get this flock in, huh?” You nodded and climbed onto the quad ��drop the eggs off first.” He climbed on and wrapped both arms around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder as you drove. As you make your way over to the front of the house, your mom was already at the porch waiting. You smile “hey momma” she smiled “hey both, got the eggs?” Rafe nodded “got ‘em all here for you, ma’am.” Your mother playfully rolls her eyes “Rafe, you don’t need to go all formal on me, I’m particularly another mother to ya!” You all laugh. She steps down from the porch and collected the eggs from the basket and into her cardigan pockets.

“Alright, I’ll let you two gather the flock in.” She gave you both a wave before heading inside. You turn in the quad, heading down one of the far fields.

As you rolled up, Zeus and Athena ran along the sides of the quad and waited for your call. “Walk up!” The two dogs ran into the large open field.

You stood on the quad, Rafe remains seated. His hands on the outside of your jean covered thighs. You shout “Zeus away t’me!” Zeus pushes the flock to the right. “Athena come by!” She pushes the rest of the flock to the left. Brining the flock of sheep into the middle of the field.

Soon enough, you and the help of your two border collies, had got the sheep into a small field ready for later. Rafe smiles and pats your thigh “atta girl.” You playfully roll your eyes as you sit on the quad. You thought for a moment.

“A penny for ya thought?”

“I can’t remember what else… oh! I remember!”

You turn the quad back on and drive towards the stables.

Soon enough you’re outside the horses stables. You park up and climb off, Rafe doing the same.

You walk into the large open stables, horses hooves and neighs can be heard. You walk over to your horses stable ‘thunder’. You climb up on the shelf as you couldn’t see over the tall (taller than you, not taller than Rafe) stable door. Rage smirks “need a hand?” You fake laugh “har har, funny…” you look over and see your stallion.

Your horse since you were five, you grew up together, literally. You smile when you see the grey and white horse. The name came from his colour of her coat. The mix of grey and white, representing a thunder cloud.

You reach out “hey there, girl, gonna give ya a fresh stable.” You hop down and grab the two fresh bales of hay. You look to Rafe “you gonna grab the hay? Or move Thunder to the outside part?” He nodded at the hay “I’ll take the hay, you get her out.” You nod. Opening the stable door, you walk over to Thunder. “Hey sweet girl, gonna have to get you to go outside f’me.”

You pat her side, using yourself as a ‘traffic cone’ you guide her to the extension of her stable. It had an indoor outdoor type of place. You were moving her to the outside part. Once you got her outside, you closed the gate. Her head peaking through the gap of the gate and the tall doorframe. You patted her neck “won’t be too long.”

You turn to see Rafe moving the second bale to near the stable door. You both grab a pitchfork each and started to dig up any dung.

You pick up one of the bales of hay, bringing it inside the stable. You pull out your pocket knife and tug on one of the strings. You rub your knife against the string, you huff when it’s not working. “You’ve forgotten to sharping your knife, huh?” You nodded at Rafe’s question.

Rafe handed you his pocket knife. “Thanks.” You use his knife that cuts the string without moving your hand against it. You do the same for three other strings. You pocket the strings. And then you both started to kick the hay around. As you try to even out the hay, you hear Rafe and his not so subtle evil laugh. As you were about to turn around, you feel hay getting kicked over you.

“You fuckin’! Get back here!”

You started to chase him around the stables. Once you got the chance, you jumped on Rafe’s back. He held your thighs so you wouldn’t fall. You balled your fist and gave him a good old noogie against his blond hair.

He laughed “hey! I’ll get ya back for that!” You laugh and hop down from his back.

Sometime later…

After a good days work, you both had got to your room. Rafe had already showed in your en-suite. Now it’s your turn. You took your Docs off, tossing them near your bedroom door. You pull your tshirt off and same goes with your jeans. Rafe let out a low whistle “damn girl, strippin’ right in front of me now??” You smile and flip him off as you stand in your en-suite.

He laughed as he rest his head on your pillows “gotta say, I’m liking the view back here!” You fake laugh, which made him laugh, then you closed the bathroom door.

After around ten or so minutes, you reemerge. You wearing one of Rafe’s Carhartt camouflage hoodies along with a pair of black cycling shorts. You walk over to the bed and climb on. Rafe was quick to pull you onto him. Your body on his. His arms snake under the hoodie and around your waist. He kissed the top of your head “good job today, baby.” “Thank you.”

You rest your chin on his chest as you look up to him. He smiles then places a soft kiss on your pink lips. You smile when he pulls away. You rest your head back on his chest.

The silence was comforting, after hearing dogs bark, horses neigh, engines roar and loads more of animals. The silence was nice after a hard day of work. That was all interrupted when you swatted Rafe’s chest. “Rafe! Don’t kill the mood!”

He chuckles, his hand still lightly squeezing your ass. “What?! Can’t help myself, when it’s right there..”

“It was staring at me first!”

“Oh that ol’ chest nut, eh?!”

You both stared at each other, then it all broke when you both started laughing. He kept his hands right where they were when you swatted him. You didn’t mind, why would you?

You close your eyes, resting your head back on his chest. You smile to yourself. Then you feel Rafe moved under you, next thing you hear is your tv. You look over to see he’s putting on a tv show you were both watching together. You both cuddle as you watched the show together, after a hard day at work, it always pays off.

༺❂༻

[honeylullaby]

in dire need of taggie’s bsf!reader x patrick THE ABSOLUTE ANGST PLS

omg YES PLS 🤩🤩🫶🏽

“You have so much celestial light.”

(Rivals) Patrick O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by this sweet anon 🫶🏽

18+ FANFIC / Implied smut & GORGEOUS Patrick 🥰 Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷 (Tumblr give us Patrick gifs NOW)

The bluebell woods leading the pathway to The Priory were in full bloom under the gleaming summer sunlight — creating the most magnificent artwork of indigo petals across the dew-topped fields. Taggie O’Hara was sprinting frantically after Gertrude, who had taken a rather unwelcome liking to a passing fox. Duchess, your much more affable border collie, stayed put by your feet, although the temptation to bound after Gertrude was increasing. “Taggie! Don’t run, it just makes her worse.” You called after your copper-haired friend, keeling over in a thunderous fit of laughter. Unable to resist temptation any longer, Duchess bolted off to your right but you, entirely unfazed, allowed her to.

“Hello, beautiful.” A buttery soft voice spoke beside you. Glancing upwards, the breath caught in your throat. A statuesque man — chiselled jawline, long ringlets of chocolate brown curls and rippling biceps that bulged from his tight shirt. “Duchess, here girl.” You called out, but she was lay on her back, excitedly squirming as the man knelt beside her and stroked her chest. In the distance, Taggie was some yards ahead, her willowy limbs unable to keep up with the pace of her sprint. “It’s terribly uncouth to ignore somebody’s compliment.” He spoke again, jokingly. Blushing furiously, your look of bewilderment was seemingly diminutive in comparison to his. His emerald green gaze couldn’t remove its hold from you, and his jaw was agape — he was transfixed.

“Patrick O’Hara, your future husband.” He introduced himself, rising to his feet and advancing towards you. Taking your hand, he blessed it with a gentle kiss. Your already flustered cheeks were now glowing the most mortifying magenta. “Patrick? You’re Taggie’s…” You began, but with a self-righteous smile, he finished your sentence. “Brother, yes. I imagine she’s told you about me, as I’ve been told many a story about you. Thank you for looking after her.” Patrick’s voice was charmingly solemn now, and it made your heart flutter like the frantic wings of a bumblebee inside your chest.

Attaching Duchess back onto her lead, you both began to follow in the direction of Taggie, although she was so far in the distance by now that her copper hair appeared as a small amber beacon leading the way, something you and Patrick both shared a delightful giggle over. “Do you have a girlfriend at university then?” You questioned, as nonchalantly as you could muster. “No. The girls at Trinity don’t have enough celestial light. When you find the one, the light just blinds you intensely. It’s very important.” Patrick informs you, taking a hold of Duchess’ lead. “Do I have celestial light?” You continued to probe, stopping dead in your tracks and batting your wispy eyelashes towards him. “Oh darling, you have so much celestial light.” Patrick beamed in response, turning on his heels and leading you down to the river bank.

The tranquil rushing of the river instantaneously steadied your heartbeat. Setting up camp on two large, jagged rocks, Patrick released Duchess from her roped restraint and cackled as she bounded across the river bank, most certainly in search of Gertrude. “What has Taggie told you about me then?” You inquired, your delicate voice sounding otherworldly serene against the babbling brook. “She’s told me that you’re an angel. I always thought that was just an expression until now. But darling, you are heavenly.” Patrick whispered the honeyed words, and enchanted shivers reverberated throughout your body. “Oh, Patrick. Don’t be silly.” You muttered, inching closer towards him.

Brushing a lock of leather black hair away from your eyes, Patrick took a moment to inspect you further — pin straight hair that framed your soft jawline perfectly, a buttoned nose & cerulean eyes that twinkled so majestically that they appeared almost lilac. “Here you are.” Taggie panted breathlessly, much louder than that of the two exhausted dogs sat by her feet. “Gertrude followed the fox to its den, and then went sprinting off with Duchess.” She puffed, slipping down beside you and resting her rouged cheek on your shoulder. “Tired, Tag?” Patrick smiled — but there was a disheartened tonality in his voice. “Exhausted! And I’ve been looking for you two for ages.” She sighed as you patted the top of her head softly.

“Anyway. Umm, I’ll head back to The Priory. I’m sure Mum will want to see me. I’ll see you later.” Patrick sighed, and jumped to his feet. “Oh Patrick, wait…” You exclaimed, but you faltered sorrowfully as he had already begun to trudge across the damp leaves, head hanging.

“I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life…” - Out of My League, Fitz & The Tantrums.

[kangals]

i feel kind of annoying for how much i tend to recommend collies whenever people ask for breed suggestions, but also i do think it's true! they are such awesome dogs that i think they get overlooked a lot and i need to do my part to spread the collie propaganda! like:

"i want a dog that's smart and easy to train" collie

"but i need a dog that won't go insane if i can't do high-level training or take a lazy day" collie

"i want a dog that i can do sports like agility, obedience, rally, barnhunt, nosework, etc with" collie

"i want a dog that i can train as a therapy dog or service dog prospect" collie

"i want a dog that i can take for long hikes and jogs and can keep up with me all day" collie

"but i don't want a high-energy or destructive dog" collie

"i want a dog that's good off-leash" collie

"i want a dog that gets along peacefully with other dogs, cats, and small animals" collie

"i want a dog that's friendly but not obsessed with making friends with strangers" collie

"i want a dog who will keep watch and alert me to any intruders on my property" collie

"but i don't want a dog who's a bite risk" collie

"i want a dog who's overall healthy and robust with a good lifespan and as few major health problems as possible" collie

"i want a dog who comes in different coat colors" collie

"but i don't want a long-haired dog or one that i have to groom a lot" smooth collie

GET IT TOGETHER, PEOPLE.

[callsignvenomcod]

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

EIGHTEEN - jake’s rizz

WARNING: uh. idk if there is any? let me know I’ll edit this chapter to add it in

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

you couldn’t lie, your heart dropped the moment jake sent those very mysterious and ominous texts. it scared you and you did not look forward to the final results. what if he was going to scold you again? no, what if he was gonna cut your pay? you needed to buy a new outfit for your sister’s wedding soon. actually, you didn’t have to buy a new one, you have plenty of outfits that would look nice if you just figured out a combination to put together. however, where is the fun in that? new clothes always made everyone look fresh!

as a wise man (named park jongseong) would say. either ways, you shouldn’t worry about this. you looked straight down your phone and shot a quick ‘okay, sir’ text to jake. which you realised, why are you even putting effort to the man who was blatantly being mean to you? right, he has the authority and the source of your income. now, imagine jake being your sugar daddy-

wait. where did that come from? god, you were long gone.

you had quickly put on your shirt and pants, threw your hair in a ponytail (or if you have short hair, just a half ponytail) then left your home with your valuables. the drive to jake’s house wasn’t that far, he lived in a gated community with a really sweet security guard guarding the gates. his neighbours were a sweet elderly couple who lived with their cat and dog. very cute. they were super adorable too. when you started working from home at jake’s house, the elderly couple actually thought you were jake’s girlfriend.

they meant no harm but it still got your heart tugging a little. they apologised for the slight mistake and kept complimenting you and jake about how sweet he was and that you and him would definitely look like a cute couple. either ways, you made it and parked at the street outside of his home. a two-storey home that not only looked cozy but was cozy inside too. well, until you enter his office and room. that place is completely so cold in some way. maybe it was the way the furnitures were just industrial and his bed was a huge king sized bed where he was alone.

“oh, (name) sweetie.” the elderly lady smiles. you smiled and bowed at her.

“hello Mrs.Matilda, are you out here to view the outside and just chill?” you asked her.

she laughs, “oh dear, it’s as per usual. my husband is currently sleeping so i don’t want to disturb him. you look different in a casual outfit, you look so sweet and innocent. are you here to babysit layla again? i am sure, jaeyun is home today though?”

“ah, umm he asked me to see him so i am here for him today.”

“oh? you youngsters have a very different way asking people out for dates. back in my day, my husband just surprises me with a bouquet of flowers and asks me out.” she laughs heartily.

“oh, umm. he isn’t asking me out-”

“Mrs.Matilda, you’re awake.” jake says. you turned to look at him. he smiles at Mrs.Matilda. his outer appearance looks way different than how he is normally at work. in fact, he really looked like a puppy. his hair down with bangs covering his forehead. the way he tilted his head in curiosity and the pout he had, god he was so adorable.

“oh, jaeyun dear.” Mrs.Matilda smiles at jake. jake goes over to hand her some biscuits.

“my mom came over yesterday and made these. she wanted to give it to you yesterday but you weren’t around when she wanted to pass it you.”

“oh my, thank your mom for these. my husband will definitely love this even more.”

“any time.” jake turns to you. “let’s go in.” he grabs your hand and pulls you in gently. your eyes widened because he literally intertwined your hand with his. hands clasped and everything. not a single warning???

Mrs.Matilda smiles as she watches this and you could only look at her confused as jake pulls you inside his home.

jake brings you inside his home and you were instantly greeted by Layla. She wags her tail happily once she sees you, she also barks happily and tries to jump on you. it makes your heart burst at how adorable she was.

“aww, what good girl~” you cooed at layla as you gave her a bunch scratches and pats seemingly forgetting jake was there.

jake on the other hand, seemed to have just watched you. it gets his heart racing a little. seeing his two favourite girls-

ehem, his favourite girl and uhh. okay, who was he lying to? his favourite girl and the girl he likes interacting.

“oh, right. why did you call me here?” you asked jake.

jake’s brain short-circuits. he just realised you weren’t in your normal secretary smart outfit that you usually wore. instead you were in something casual. you looked so domestic. very wifey material.

“uh. right.” jake points to heaps of papers. “I need help clearing that. I-I know this is your day off but-”

“don’t worry. I’ll help. I understand it’s hard being a CEO and clearing all this approval letters and stuff.”

“right. I also need help with this project i’m working on with umm jay. he said he placed the research in the file so like I just need some help reviewing it. since it’s better to have two pairs of eyes to like get opinions.” jake says.

“mmm, alright. let’s get to work, I guess.” you say.

just as you scanned the many files and papers on jake’s desk, you can’t help but feel him stare into your soul. it was obvious he was staring at you but for what? you didn’t know.

“mr.sim, are you okay? is there something wrong with my face?”

jake’s eyes widened, “no not at all. I just umm…can you not call me mr.sim when we’re alone like this?”

it went dead silent after he said that.

“umm but you’re my boss?”

“we aren’t technically in the office right now and we’re the same age?”

“yeah, but you’re still my boss.”

jake sighs, “okay then. as your boss, I want you to just call me jake when we’re outside of the office.”

you wanted to say something but jake cuts you off, “I will cut your pay if you call me mr.sim or sir when it’s just us.”

you quickly shut your mouth after. you knew was joking about cutting your pay but like in some way, it sounded really real.

“okay, s- jake.”

“mmm, good girl.”

you froze.

DID JAKE JUST CALL YOU A GOOD GIRL??

a/n: OHOHOHO >:) sim jaeyun you naughty naughty 😈

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