#WOOF WOOF YELP

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Same warnings as last time for dub con and general Johnny nastiness.

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

#sorry this is a little shorter but uhhhhh i never know where to go after smut #anyway hope yall like it #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️ #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au #wolf john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

[flametrashira]

that stuckage kyojuro post has infected my mind. just watching him squirm around 🥴 and then the startled shout when instead of helping him get unstuck you’re pawing at him… woof

We suffer the same sickness, Ashi. I can't stop thinking about it either. So...

Content guidance: NSFW. Kyojuro x gn!reader. Kyojuro get stuck and you jerk him off. Sub!Kyojuro, Dom!reader. I gave Kyojuro a squishy tummy again because we deserve to have nice things. Approx 1.2k words.

As a dedicated swordsman, Kyojuro maintained his katana meticulously. And not just the blade, but the handle and tang too. It was a process he greatly enjoyed, one he took pride and care in. Swords got dirty quickly, especially when used in battle as often as Kyojuro’s was. 

Carefully unwrapping the silk and ray skin from the handle, the flame hashira’s eyebrows dipped. One of the bamboo pins, the mekugi, holding the handle in place had split and would need to be replaced. 

Fortunately it was something he could do himself and he wouldn’t have to wait for a swordsmith to work on it. He tapped the broken pin out with a little brass hammer and took the replacement out of his maintenance kit, only to have the fiddly little thing fall from his fingers and roll down between a gap in the wooden engawa.

“Hm…” Kyojuro frowned, getting up to follow after it. 

He could see the peg nestled between the stones in the dark space beneath the porch , just slightly out of reach. The gap was narrow, but he’d crawled beneath his fair share of engawas as a lad, and he hadn’t grown that much had he?

Squeezing his broad shoulders beneath the wooden structure he grabbed the peg and went to shuffle out, immediately realizing he had made a grave error. Everything from his burly chest up was wedged in there. His upper body was pressed to the ground by a solid wooden beam above, and his ass was stuck up in the air. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out. Not alone. 

“Uh…” he grunted, trying to push himself back. “Love? My love?!” 

Thank goodness you were home. His heart settled the moment he heard your footsteps crunching in the gravel, and your quiet and not unkind laughter at seeing his predicament.

“My my, Kyo…”

“Yes, I know…” he chuckled, his face already burning hot. “I could use a little help.”

His plan had been to have you dig some of the earth and tightly packed gravel out from beneath his chest, but, as you gripped his hips, it seemed you had other ideas. The unexpected sensation of your hands sliding up to his waistband drew a startled yelp from him. 

“Hah! Love, what are you–?” His sentence was cut short by the sudden chill of the air against his bare ass and thighs as you pulled down his trousers. His face blazed bright red as he found himself completely exposed and helpless against you. The muscles in his lower belly quivered as you ran your fingernails along his thighs, around his hips, to the soft pouch of flesh below his navel, rasping against the trail of golden hair which led down to his rapidly growing cock.

It was shameful. Fortunately the back of the house was sheltered from public view, but being trapped in such a vulnerable and outright humiliating state made his heart race. Despite the fact you couldn’t see him, he hid his burning face in the crook of his elbow, muffling his whines of pleasure as you stroked a finger up and down his taint. The muscles in his abdomen quivered and tensed and he subconsciously found himself bearing down against your touch, seeking more of it.

“You’re so cute, Kyojuro,” you cooed, only adding to his embarrassment and his pleasure. “You’re such a big boy to be squeezing into that little space.”

Breathless laughter burst through his moans as you spiraled the fingertips of your other hand around his navel, your expert touch threading the needle between unbearably ticklish and just pleasant enough to make his cock start to leak. 

“Such a big, powerful man,” came your whispered praise. “So strong. But so helpless.”

He groaned when your fingers found his wetness, spreading it across the tip of his cock as you kissed the base of his spine. 

“Huh…ha… my love… please…”

“Tell me to stop, Kyojuro.”

Gods help him he couldn’t. 

He had always been unable to resist you. Your touch was addictive, and the pressure of your hand suddenly wrapped around his cock drove him out of his mind. Even if you’d lined up every high ranking member of the corps to walk past and witness his shame, he doubted he could have asked you to stop. A lifetime spent honing his strength and building his respectable reputation, yet you so easily reduced him to a blushing begging mess as he tried in vain to thrust into your too-loose grip. 

“Please, my love,” he moaned, rocking his hips and finding your hand following his movements faithfully, giving him nothing. “Please let me–”

“Spread your legs for me, Kyo… show me that pretty arch of yours.” 

He was scarlet as he obeyed your order, spreading his legs wide, leaving his ass stuck up in the air as his belly dipped down to the ground. 

“Good… oh, I wish you could see yourself. You look so lovely. So pretty. I think you deserve to cum now.”

All he could do was bite down on his arm as you pleasured him, one hand sliding up and down the length of his cock, the other pressed up into the plush of his belly, your hips flush against the curve of his ass, your mouth bestowing hot, eager kisses to the base of his spine. His muffled cries of pleasure seemed to spur you on, as did the way he resumed his eager thrusts, frantically fucking the tunnel of your fist, unable to hold back. 

The heat on his cheeks seeped to his chest and spilled down into his core. His helplessness made it all the more exciting. The thought of you keeping him trapped, pleasuring him over and over until he had nothing more to give excited him more than he dared admit. And the shame of it all was simply extra fuel on the fire.

He squirmed desperately into your touch, ever the glutton when it came to pleasure, always hungry for more, more, more. 

“You’re always so strong, so brave, fighting for others. But maybe I’ll just leave you trapped here,” you said as he drew nearer his orgasm. “Keep you stuck like this as my fucktoy. I can just make you cum whenever I feel like it, as often as I want…”

“Yes,” he moaned, out of his mind with ecstasy. Yes, that's exactly what he wanted. In that moment, teetering on the brink of orgasm, he would have given up everything; his title, his duty, his legacy, just to please you, to serve you. He cried helplessly into his arms as his climax pulsed through him, his eyes screwing tight, thighs trembling so hard they gave out beneath him. 

“Good,” you crooned your praises behind him. “You cum so sweetly for me, Kyo.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, pressing his cheeks to the cool gravel beneath the engawa, catching his breath before you began working on getting him out. 

#sub!kyojuro #sub!rengoku #dom!reader #rengoku smut #kyojuro smut #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kny kyojuro #kny rengoku #kimestu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #n.sfw // #n.sfw #mdni #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #gn!reader

[dante-mightdie]

Jumping aboard the 141 dog train bc woof. No need to make anything of this if you don't feel like it, just sharing my thoughts :)

Imagine reader being a show dog. I myself am picturing a Beauceron or a Red Belgian Tervuren, purely because they're just so gorgeous and striking, but feel free to imagine whatever breed you please. — Laswell finds you traipsing along the side of the road late at night, trembling from the cold and trotting in an oddly rigid manner—your head held high away from the ground and tail pointed skyward. That's weird. A high tail means confidence, but what could you possibly be confident about? And shouldn't a dog keep their head low, sniffing out their path?

She pulls over and you bound up to the car, which is another red flag for her. A lone dog out in the backroads should be a lot more cautious about random vehicles stopping right beside you, but you're only disinterested when the door opens and you see that it's only her inside.

It's then that she sees the thick, jewel-encrusted white leather collar buckled around your throat. There isn't a name or a number on it anywhere. It's purely for decoration. It's then that she also notices just how shiny your coat is, proudly wearing your healthy layer of silky fur like it was an expensive accessory.

Without the shadow of a doubt, you are a pampered little thing who is far, far away from home.

It comes as a shock to her that you're actually a hybrid, and not just some stray mutt. She only manages to get you in the car with gentle persuasion and the promise of a warm interior and some water.

Once inside, she shoots a message to Price and starts asking you questions.

"Am I correct in assuming that you're a... show dog?"

The haughtiness in your voice as you respond has Kate silently reminding herself that she was no better than whoever deserted you on the side of the road if she kicked you out.

"Tsk. Show dog. Ugh, please. I'm a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon champion of the World of Canines pageant. I'm a legend."

That reply is more than enough to convince Kate that silence would be much better suited for the duration of the ride. You don't agree.

"Where are we going?" You asked snappily once you realized you hadn't told her where you were going, "Why haven't you contacted my owners?"

"Sweetie—" Kate began patiently with a wry laugh, starting off with an endearment the way her wife would when she wanted to deescalate a situation "—you have zero contact information on you. I don't know who your owners are."

The incredulous look you gave her would've been funny if you hadn't been dead serious.

"What?" You all but yipped, "How on earth do you not know my owners? Actually— how on earth do you not know me?"

The thought of dumping you back into the snow for the wolves to ravage was a tempting one, but the image of Price and his boys putting you in your place was an even more satisfying one. At least, she hoped they would be able to manage you. There was also the chance that you would be so insufferable that you drove the boys to insanity, but she had seen her mutts stomach worse. She likes to think you'd make a nice little gift for them. They always loved a challenge.

She didn't bother answering you.

When you arrived at the top of a twisting path up a hillside—complaining every bit of the way about how the gravelly roads were giving you a headache and that you'd be getting eyebags soon if you didn't get your beauty rest—your nose crinkled in disgust. There were too many clashing scents that assaulted your powdered nose, having been far too accustomed to the poignant fragrances of the perfumes and potpourris you were bestowed in your vanity back at home.

"A cabin?" You sneered distastefully, huffing, "This is where you stay?"

"Nope." Laswell exited the driver's side and yanked the passenger door open, not bothering to hid her amusement when you almost fell out of the vehicle with a startled yelp. "It's where you'll be staying."

It was hard to miss the harrowed expression of dread that befell your features as those words met your perky ears.

"So until I can manage to get ahold of your owners, I suggest you behave, alright?"

She stepped back and pulled you out of the SUV—a birdlike screech of abhorrence exiting your lungs as she did.

"But in the meantime, boys, I've got you something to sharpen your teeth on."

You turned your head to locate who she was talking to, and felt your heart drop to your stomach when your gaze landed on a barrel-chested man standing proudly with a Rottweiler, Doberman, and a Rough Collie at his sides.

Your hackles stood on their ends. — I've got more to follow that's in a more sequential bullet-point style, but I'll cut it here for now bc I don't want it to get too long!

So, this post is just going to be me posting this ask. It arrived in 3 parts so i'll paste the second two parts under the 'keep reading'

@sugar-n-sweets said they'll post an edited version on their blog so please check it out :)

"This what you texted me about, Laswell?" The man asked, gesturing a finger towards you.

"Yeah, found her taking a late-night solo walk just a bit ago." Laswell readied herself to hop back into the car. "Figured you're more suited to house strays than myself."

The panic running rampant in your veins increased tenfold as you watched her slide in behind the wheel.

"No, you— you can't do this! You can't leave me here with— with them!"

Kate rubbed her temples and turned to you.

"Kid, you've got nowhere else to go. This is the only occupied property for miles, and I certainly can't take you back home to my wife. She's allergic to dogs."

A bold-faced lie. But you didn't need to know that.

You paled, looking back at the man and his dogs with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

"This can't be happening," you muttered aloud to no one in particular but yourself.

"Sure it can," the man sang out to you as he trotted down the stoop of the porch. You didn't miss the glint in his eyes at your cowering as he approached.

"Now come on inside, love. We wouldn't want you to get sick out here."

You entered the cabin, but only to avoid that man's hand grabbing your collar when he reached out for you. You shuddered at how close he had been to grazing your precious coat. In a place like this with a mangy scent like that... only God knew where those hands had been.

You watched the man stalk off to a room down the hall, a manila folder tucked underneath his arm.

You just about shrieked when a cold, wet nose was pressed into your hip. You jumped back with your teeth bared.

"Look at tha' gait. Never seen anythin' more unnatural." The brogue was thick with the signature of Scots, rumbling from the chest of the Rough Collie as he spoke. "Y'got a name?"

Your shoulders tensed in apprehension when the question arose.

"Got a n— yes, I have a name!" You snapped irritably, "Just look at me!"

"Oh, I'm looking, alright." The Rottweiler chuffed from a distance, "Not much of a sight, if you ask me."

You could've given everyone else whiplash with how quickly you swiveled your neck to face the bemused dog.

"Excuse me?" You growled, hackles stiff and raised to their limit. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The Scot rolled his eyes.

"If we did, ah wouldnae be askin' fer yer name." His eyes seemed to rake over your form, as if sizing you up. "What makes you so special, huh? What makes you so different from all the other mutts?"

Your eye twitched.

"Mutt?" Your voice began low, calculated and simmering in the rage that was about to boil over the edge and scald anyone standing too close. "Mutt?! I am no mutt! I am a purebred specimen of a luxury breed—"

"So you're stuck up," the Doberman snorted, sneering at you down the length of his snout. "Purebreds are only good for looking pretty. An aesthetic commodity."

The fury you felt with trying to get a word in with these dogs had your fur bristling with a type of rage that you had never before been acquainted with. "I am not stuck up! I am a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon ch—"

"Oh, so we've got a spoiled little whelp here, eh? Hope you don't expect us to pamper ye."

The frustrated squawk you let out hardly resembled anything that of a dog's cry. — Adjusting was not an easy feature to achieve.

As a show dog, you had no proper "domestic" life. You were a means of income—prize money. The only interaction you had with other hybrids, let alone animals, was with your competitions. So it was safe to say that things hadn't been going in your favor.

You struggled to keep up with them on their daily hikes around their property, as well as the only one who wore a leash. Even if there was no way you stood a chance at outrunning them, they found it amusing to tether you to a lead of rope and tug when you were falling behind—which was always. In order to keep a slim, show-ready figure, your owners never allotted you any more than ten minutes of a casual walk per day. If you even tried to speed it up to a slight trot, your time was cut in half. You did not have the muscle you needed to survive out here and it showed.

You were more humiliated than anything when Price had shoved you off the couch and sprayed you with a bottle, which especially irritated you because you weren't a cat! You were a dog! But fighting back was the last thing on your mind when you were struggling to find comfort on the hardwood floors while all three dogs were curled up with their Captain on his bed.

But over the past two weeks, you had more things to worry about than sore legs and a bruised ego. Since day one, these dogs had been cruel. They found joy in putting you through absolute misery time and time again, like a joke that never gets old.

Gaz made it his personal mission to inconvenience you at any available opportunity. He ate from your bowl, stepped on your tail, kicked you awake when you thought you were safe enough to take a nap—little things to just irk you in the worst way possible.

Ghost pissed you off by acting like you didn't exist half the time. He figured that since you were so accustomed to being recognized for your quote-unquote "achievements", being ignored was the equivalent of a swift kick to the gut. He was wrong. It was more like a sledgehammer to the kidneys in your case.

Soap was much more forward with his advances. He just wanted to piss you off and that was that. He would tackle you to the ground when you were outside, almost like a puppy trying to initiate playtime. He'd send you rolling into dirt, rocks, and snow—showing no interest in assisting you when you had to spend the next few hours picking dead bugs and bits of twigs from your hair. You couldn't be looking like some indecent pup when your owners came looking for you. You were raised better than that. You had a reputation and an image to uphold, and you were never one to disappoint.

And Price didn't do anything except watch with amusement as you were tormented left and right. Some handler he is.

It wasn't until the fourth week that things did began to take a turn.

There was still no word from Laswell about your owners. You'd almost thought that she'd forgotten about you, what with the radio silence regarding your situation and all.

It was a daily routine for you to wait at the front door—nose just inches away from the cold, dark wood in anticipation. It was as if you expected it to fly off the hinges and reveal your owners who you practically worshipped, arms open wide and ready to bring you back home.

You knew you'd be lucky to even get a reassuring head-pat if they found you, but the idea of their excitement at finally finding you was the one thing that kept putting you in front of that door every single morning.

Everyone noticed your behavior, but Ghost was the first to let it fully clock that even if you were in insufferable little hellion—you acted the way you did because that's what you were raised to recognize as the norm. You didn't act like this because you wanted to, you acted like this because it was expected of you, and any disconnection from these mannerisms likely resulted in punishment when you were younger.

He didn't really know what to do with that information, so he didn't do anything. — Laswell's visit the next weekend was unwarranted, but most certainly not unwelcomed.

"You still got that show dog with you, or did you leave the back door unlocked during bear season?" She asked, her stalwart tonality clashing with the joke she made.

"Rest assured, the lil' priss is alive and well, Kate," Price coolly responded as he swung his ax down onto an upright log—splitting it in half.

"Good."

"Any reason for the sudden concern, or are you just feelin' sweet today?" Price set up another log and lined up his ax.

"I found her owners."

The hatchet met the cutting stump with a deep 'thunk', the edge of the blade burying itself much further than it was intended to go.

"Really?"

Kate nodded.

"Hm. Well..." Price paused, giving the handle of the tool a harsh tug and dislodging it from the wood. "...That's good."

"I wouldn't speak so soon."

"Why's that?"

Kate extended her phone to him, where a gallery of photos was displayed on the screen. There were two people—a man and a woman—smiling brightly with a pampered pooch sitting in front of them, donning a blue ribbon, and a leather collar identical to yours.

Except, it wasn't you.

"This was from the pageant last week. The one she was supposed to compete in."

"So why isn't she?" Price inquired, scrolling through the photos and finding similar images from different angles.

"She didn't win first place in her last show." Kate took her phone back from Price. "They never told her that she lost. They just took a 'detour' on their way to the next pageant, and picked up their next dog after dropping her off on the shoulder a month ago."

"So they just..."

"Left her, yeah." Kate nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "So, her position here may be a little more permanent than we thought."

You were raised by your owners to be the embodiment of elegance. That meant no barking, no scratching, no bouts of energy—none of it. You were so used to this way of life, ignoring your instincts, that you never had the desire to do any of those things.

But when you found out about what your owners had done—

Oh, how you wanted to raise hell.

You weren't even meant to know yet. You were simply inside as you practically always were, sitting on the rug of the living room because Price still wouldn't let you sit on the couches. You had the remote in hand, volume turned down low and closed captioning on as not to alert Soap, who was just a couple rooms down the hall.

You technically weren't supposed to be messing with the television, but today was the date of the pageant you were supposed to be competing in—the one you were supposed to win—and like hell were you going to miss it. You had memorized the listing and channel of every broadcasting service that would be airing it ages ago.

So there you were, kneeling inches away from the TV with an anxious grasp on the remote and your tail nervously stiffened behind you.

You were checking out the competition, rolling your eyes at snooty faces you recognized, mumbling about how you would've presented that strut so much better had you been there. One could only imagine your confusion when you saw a new dog. A spry, sleek-coated Irish setter with a shockingly familiar handler guiding her along.

Your jaw dropped.

That was your handler.

"No!"

You didn't care about keeping the noise down anymore. You rose to your feet in a flash. That was Sergei. Handling another dog. But that didn't make any sense. Sergei only worked for your owners, and only presented you at pageants. Had your owners fired him? Surely not—you loved him! So then why was he handling this new dog?

And why was there a new dog at all? The participation slots were full. You should know, because you took the last one, and pageants didn't take understudies in the event that a dog didn't show up. If a dog wasn't there, then they weren't there. It just counted as a forfeit.

Still in shock, you raised your hand to clutch your proverbial pearls—but when your fingers met your neck, you became acutely aware of the similarities between what you felt, and what you were seeing on the screen.

Ruffles. Jewels. Lace. Leather.

She was wearing your fucking collar.

You didn't need to see Sergei walk the Setter up to your owners after the circuit to connect the dots—nor did you need to see them slip the blue ribbon over her head, hear your owners fabricate a tale about how you were so ashamed after winning silver that you couldn't bear to compete again, and selected Dolores to take your place, or even recall how they oh-so graciously let you out of the RV to let you "stretch your legs" only hours before Laswell found you on the road. It was clear as day.

There were so many urges bubbling within you. It was confusing and pissing you off. You wanted to yell. You wanted to break things. You wanted to unleash yourself.

And because your owners weren't here to drop a phonebook on your tail as a punishment—you did.

"You fucking bitch!"

The clasp of your collar flew off and landed somewhere in the room as you ripped it from your throat. Doing so fucking hurt, but you weren't going to bother being gentle with the accessory that keyed you as property of your traitorous owners.

Soap tumbled into the room, footfalls heavy and uncoordinated from having just been crudely awoken from a midday nap. He only caught a glimpse of you storming out the back door.

He rushed to follow, ready to pounce and bury his teeth into your neck and subdue you like he had in the past, because you weren't allowed to go outside without permission, nor without the Captain.

But he froze in his tracks when he saw you in the snow, having taken on your full canine physique and tearing into your collar—or what was left of it—with reckless abandon. Pearls and gems flew every which way as you bit down on the leather hard enough to make you gag, shaking it like it was small prey with the most vicious snarl he'd ever heard come out of you.

"Lass, what's—"

The collar went flying into the air, and landed a ways into the distance, among the trees that surrounded the clearing of the cabin. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon, body trembling as you stool still. Whether it was from the cold, adrenaline, or fury—he couldn't tell.

"They lied to me!" He heard you scream.

"Who lied t'ye, lassie?"

"They never entered me into the competition— they nev—" you cut yourself off with an enraged shriek. "They already had a replacement!"

Soap couldn't tell if you were talking to him or yourself.

You were out there for a while, howling with rage while Soap apprehensively stood a few paces behind you. Your animalistic war-cries were enough for Gaz to come bounding up the hill from the cabin's lay of snowy plains below, fully alert and looking around frantically to locate the source of distress—only to discover that you were the cause of your distress. Well, somewhat.

He wanted to feel satisfied and amused when Soap filled him in on what had happened, but he just couldn't. You, a sheltered cash cow from birth, had been thrown away and replaced for some trivial mistake that you had made in you last pageant—the only thing you were good at and good for just not being enough, when you lived to appease them.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for you.

You weren't having it, though.

"No! No, you shut up!" You clambered onto your feet, pointing a finger into his chest. He was about to snap back at you, but you spoke to quick for him to overlap.

"I don't need your damn pity. I need to be a dog."

He blinked, expression faltering.

"What?"

"My entire life—" you inhaled deeply through your mouth as you roughly wiped away streaks of tears "—I have been nothing but a pretty bitch that pays the bills, and if they won't even let me have that—then it ends now."

They both stand silently, waiting for you to continue.

"Teach me how to be a dog."

—

The 141 were made up of honest men—a rare commodity in this day and age. No matter how you felt about something, you always knew the truth, and none of them hid anything about themselves unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for you, that mostly just entailed them openly voicing how annoying they thought you were, or how you wouldn't last a day in the wild—but they stood by their word in the following weeks, re-training you to embrace your canine urges.

It started with a bath, oddly enough. You figured the first thing they'd have you do was dive headfirst into a pile of mud, but instead you sat calmly in the tub as Price rinsed out the shampoo with the handheld showerhead.

"Have to say, you take to bathin' much better than any of my boys."

You huffed with an indifferent grumble. As a human, Price couldn't understand you in your canine form, but he'd been around hybrids long enough to get a general idea of what they try to get across. Grooming days were part of your routine. Of course you loved baths.

Sure, this tub wasn't as luxurious as the small pools your personal groomer used to lather you up in, nor did it have the elaborate tools to ensure that your coat absorbed all the nurturing properties of your expensive shampoos—but those fancy trinkets could be bought by anyone lucrative enough. Not everybody could say they had John Price's large, calloused hands scrubbing dog shampoo into their fur.

"I'm sure this isn't the salon-quality product you're used to," he mentioned as the soap foamed and bubbled up under his touch, "but it does the job. 'Fraid you won't be seein' much of name brands anymore, though."

You were apprehensive when he approached you with shears after towel-drying you off, never having anyone but Sergei trim the ends of your coat before. Your past owners liked to keep your fur long and shiny, but even you knew that such a high-maintenance coat wouldn't survive out here, so to the scissors it went.

"Don't you worry, dove," he coaxed. "Just a little off the top, yeah?"

It was odd, seeing yourself in the mirror after the chop. Price clearly knew what he was doing. You should've known from the start that he was practiced with shears, if Soap's well-tapered coat was anything to go by. He had kept some of the original length around your legs and tail, but did away with the longer areas at your neck, chest, cheeks, and underbelly.

You stared at your reflection, head tilting this way and that as you inspected your new appearance. You were still plenty fluffy with rich fur—but you didn't have those mane-like tresses that required extensive combing and conditioning to keep healthy. Less of you was hidden by your fur, and you came to notice just how lacking in muscle you really were. You'd work on that with the 141 another time, you were sure.

You didn't look like a pampered show dog anymore. You were just… a dog.

It didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

"How'd I do?" Price smiled down at you, letting a big hand ruffle your head—ears flopping from side to side with the action. You chuffed shortly through your throat, an unsure vocalization before barking at the mirror with your tail wagging.

He laughed in that deep, rumbling fashion, "Make sure to leave five stars."

—

Next was going to be getting you to give chase and sink your teeth into something with a beating heart, but when Soap watched you stiffly trot up to the back door with your neck and ears vertical, and your snout parallel to the ground—he realized that there was much more work to be done here before he sent you off into the neck of the woods. He could leave hunting up for someone else to take care of later.

"Bonnie… what in God's name are ye dooin'?"

"I—" You cut yourself off to turn and glare at him. "I'm walking, jackass. What else?"

Soap wouldn't be caught dead admitting it aloud, but he loved the new attitude you gave him. It was still pretty much the same you would give him before, but it came off in different waves. Your voice wasn't as high-pitched, your vocabulary was less prestigious and haughty, and your responses weren't so long-winded (they always included you rambling about how your "elite" mannerisms were the result of a proper, exquisite lifestyle that Soap was too roguish and brash to ever qualify for). Your mouthy habits now consisted of sass and snark he was used to from the military, and was quite fond of with his pack.

"Ye call tha' walkin'?" He practically gawked at you, half-joking. "Nah, lass. Change of plans. Gonna teach ye how t' strut proper."

So that's how you found yourself trudging through icy mud, body trembling as you braved the chilly winds that flew over the marsh Soap had dragged you down to. You yapped in disgust as a fish swam over your paw.

"Och, haud yer weesht, hen." Soap crowed from a grassy patch of the wetlands. "Keep yer head on snug. 'S no more than a wee minnow. Willnae bite ye, ah swear."

You turned to sneer at him, ears laid flat against your head as you squinted. It turned into an eyeroll when he split his mouth into a cheeky grin.

You were trying your best not to complain. You really were. You wanted to be a dog, and if this is what it took, then so be it. Even if it meant your fur was wet up to your knees and elbows.

"Price isn't gonna be happy, you know," you barked over the howling wind.

Soap leapt from one patch to the neighboring one. "On the contrary, I think he'll be right chuffed t' see ye gettin' yer paws dirty."

"After he just washed me?"

"Especially after he just washed ya. Shows 'im that ye aren't afraid of keepin' an image anymore."

Your tongue darted out to wet your nose as you contemplated his words. The breeze was drying.

"Okay, but… why are we out here specifically?"

Soap smiled and wordlessly leapt into the marsh with you—no care for his white coat at all—making you rear your head back as the murky water splashed too close to your face for comfort.

"Glad y' asked," he boomed, the volume unnecessary with how much closer he was to you now. "Y' ever seen a dog walk normally with slippers on?"

The question caught you off guard.

"I—" you blinked at him "…no?"

"Exactly. The water has the same effect. Weighs ye down, forces you to do what's comfortable." He demonstrated what he meant as he spoke by marching through the water, bringing each paw above the surface to avoid the resistance of the liquid when he stretched it forward to take a step. He stopped to face you.

"Go on, then," he urged, "give it a try."

The sensation was awkward and disorienting when you tried to walk. Your body was moving faster than the water would allow, and your feet couldn't match the pace you demanded of them—resulting in you tripping over nothing but sheer inertia, and falling into the foggy marsh.

Soap laughed above you as you stood up—water dripping from every part of you but your head and back.

"See what I mean? You cannae be marchin' tha' fancy canter o' yours when yer up to yer knees. 'S no' a parade, lassie. Here—just follow my lead. You'll be canterin' in no time."

—

It took near to a week's worth of treading the marsh for Soap to see genuine improvement in your gait, and a couple days more of sprinting across acres of land for him to be satisfied enough with his work. Price, as you expected, wasn't super jovial to see your freshly-washed coat dripping with mud the first time around, but it wasn't anything that a a hose-down outside the cabin couldn't take care of.

You learned how to avoid getting caught on your own feet as you got better at running, and as a result, had significantly less incidents that left you wet and huffy—but today, Soap decided he was in the mood to play, and tackled you into the wetlands like the overgrown teenager he was. It ended with both of you sopping wet and out of breath.

Ghost had hauled you off of him with his maw latched onto your scruff as you rolled around in the mud with Soap's ear between your teeth. He was huffily growling that Gaz needed you back at the cabin, and snapping his jaws at Soap when the Rough Collie felt ballsy enough to playfully nip at his haunches like the sheepdog he was—speeding off before Ghost could get the bright idea of pursuing him.

You found Gaz perched on top of the cellar doors on the side of the cabin—a dark, warm spot that got direct sunlight for every waking hour of the day. You could always count on him being there.

His eyes snapped open when he heard your noisy footsteps crunching through the snow.

"There you are," he huffed impatiently. "It's about time."

You returned his attitude with equal lackluster vigor, "You could've let me know you were looking for me."

"Sent Ghost to fetch you."

"Too proud to do it yourself?"

The Doberman slid off the wooden basement doors, paws landing on the snow with an imperceptible crunch. "If I switch focus, I'll loose the trail," he bluntly stated before starting into the mouth of the forest.

These men and their need to answer in riddles. "What?" You asked in exasperated confusion.

"You hungry?"

You sighed. And so the puzzle continues.

"What are you yapping about?"

He once again ignored your question and continued talking, "Hungry or not, I'm locked on to a scent right now and you need to practice hunting."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

"I thought Ghost would be the one to teach me to hunt."

"You want him out here instead?"

"No."

Gaz scoffed out a laugh at your snark, "Don't complain, then."

"I'm not," you defended, "I just… figured he was more suited for this."

"Yeah?" Gaz hopped onto a fallen tree that blocked his path and jumped down just as quickly. "And somehow I'm not?"

You opted to crawl under the log. "No, that not what I—"

"Ah, hush. Just taking the piss." His trotting gait slowed to a strut as you caught up to his side. "I get what you mean. Simon's a big dog, and an even bigger lad. Can't really picture him doing much else, can you?"

You gave it a moment of thought before agreeing, "Yeah… no, I really can't."

"I don't blame you, but don't doubt me, either. I was a guard dog back in my service days. Hunting comes naturally."

You applied what Soap taught you as Gaz's speed picked up again, trying to match his pace. "Well, it doesn't for me," you reminded caustically, "so what am I gonna do here?"

Gaz's docked tail twitched as he nosed you in a new direction. The top of his snout came into contact with the right side of your skull and he jutted his head forward, nudging your orientation westwards. You grumbled in discontent as the gesture caught you off guard, and threatened to knock you over. You stumbled to the side—in a lowered stance as your legs splayed out more to catch yourself—and sneered up at Gaz before trying to nip at his side. He easily shifted out of your reach, which made you more irritated than you already were.

"Stop that," he gruffed. "Just come here."

You wanted to ignore him and pettily plop yourself onto the snow you stood over, but you noticed that Gaz had stopped right in front of a large bush decorated with berries a few yards ahead.

"What's this?" You asked, regaining your balance.

"Huckleberry, originally, but there's mistletoe in there. Parasitic plant… don't eat it," he warned, as if you were actually planning on doing that. He urged you forward with another nudge. "Take a sniff. Really try to pay attention to what sets it apart from other smells."

Dubiously, you did as instructed; extending your neck to brush your nose with the flora. It took a moment for your nose to recognize and separate the fragrances, but as soon as you could clearly pinpoint the sweetness of the huckleberry and the bitter poison of the mistletoe—and hone in on the scent to lead you to other plants with the same arrangements—Gaz introduced you to various other scents and repeated the process.

By the the time that the next twenty minutes had passed, you were also able to identify buttercups, pine needles, shedded fur, a quail corpse, and Ghost's territorial markers. You were satisfied enough to call it a day, but Gaz apparently had other plans.

"Stop," he suddenly commanded, his voice hushed and tentative. The suddenness of it was enough to make you obey. He crouched down low until he laid on the bank, and you followed suit. "Look."

Curious, you lifted your head to see what had demanded such stealth from him, and felt your ears perk up upon seeing a white hare just a little ways off.

"Hungry yet?"

Instinctively, your tongue laved over your chops at the prospect of a meal. Soap's energetic roughhousing was a taxing endeavor to participate in.

"Yeah."

Gaz scooted back a bit to let you take the lead. "Then it's yours. You know what to do?"

You were half-listening. "Mhm. Yeah, of course."

"Show me."

Rising from the ground slightly, you paid mind to your pose as you kept your nose low enough to the ground to pick up on its most recent scent trail—just like Gaz taught you. You missed the way he spared a quick side-eye glance to you before doing a double-take.

"You keep that stance, and a lot of critters around here are gonna get the wrong idea," he remarked warningly—but his quieted voice had a faint distinction of amusement to it.

You didn't understand what he meant until you felt a pair of hands reaching to grab your hips and lower them to the proper crouching stance, bringing your ass down so you weren't presenting your doggish cunt to the world.

"The mud does good to hide your scent, but that'll only do so much if you give yourself away like that."

You could hear the double-entendre in the way he spoke, clearly not trying to be subtle, but you opted to ignore it plus—the heat crawling up your neck—regardless. He left a firm pat to your haunches before moving back and giving you the green light to strike.

"Impress me."

—

You had improved plenty over the past few weeks with the guidance of both Soap and Gaz—regularly having races and hunting sessions until your needs were sated. Price was a little more approving of you returning caked in mud, but only when you had dried blood crusting around your mouth on that first successful hunting session with Gaz. He especially loved it when you brought something back for him, whether it be a poor squirrel or the body of a rabbit. No matter what it was, he was there to praise your success and drag his nails through your fur appreciatively. He congratulated Gaz frequently for doing so well with teaching you.

The brunt of winter was quickly approaching, and with it came flurries and changes. Changes that occupied every edge and valley of your mind, turning your morals on their heads and skewing every coherent thought you managed to procure.

You had yet to know if Ghost planned to teach you something, but if you were being honest, you couldn't care less about what you were supposed to learn now. Not when you were hiding in a corner of the old, worn down sheep stable not too far from the marsh where Soap taught you how to run, staring at the phallic-shaped icicle hanging from the windowsill and contemplating whether or not frostbite was worth a sense of relief.

You see, here—you don't sterilize hybrids. It's unethical and outlawed in most countries. So, naturally, you weren't spayed, and naturally—

You went into heat.

Now, you knew it was inevitable. Your heat was completely unavoidable, just a thing of nature—but that didn't mean you dreaded it any less.

So that's why you buried yourself in clumps of aging straw in the hayloft, internal temperature far too high to be bothered by the biting winds that nipped at your exposure.

In the past, your heats were managed with toys, medications, hormone-balancing supplements, and being locked in your room for days on end.

This was your first heat away from your owners. This was your first heat without anything to ease or shorten the experience, and being so scared about what you could potentially do during the blindness of your desperation—you ran for the hills at the first sign of an episode.

You were still well within tracking distance, not wanting to get lost and become unrecoverable, but you hoped it was far away enough for the men to get the hint that you needed to be alone.

Now, was there any actual plan? Absolutely not. You had no provisions, no protection against the elements, and you were fully aware that a heat without any external aids could last over a week. In the moment you fled, the only thing on your mind was being a safe distance away from any opportunity to make a mistake.

And as you were now, hands trembling far too much to get a proper focus on your clit and whining embarrassingly loud—your body was cursing you for doing such a thing, but your dignity was gratefully intact.

"Bonnie!"

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

You couldn't bite back your whimpering keens, but rolled over onto your stomach to bury your noises into the scratchy hay.

"Bonnie," Soap called once more, "you in here?"

You couldn't reply through your breathless pants.

"Price is askin' fer ye, lassie," his voice echoed around the open space of the barn. "Didn't like ye pullin' tha' stunt n' takin' off, y'ken."

When there was still no reply, Soap took the liberty of trailing your scent with his nose—clambering his way up the ladder when your fragrance grew stronger. The heady weight of your overpowering scent punched him in the face once he reached the hayloft.

"Where'd y— fuckin' Criosd, thoir dhomh neart."

His hips bucked forward at the smell of you, popping a stiffie in mere seconds and greedily grinding the tent in his trousers against the rung of the ladder that was level with his groin.

"Oh, bonnie— 's this why y' scampered off?"

He found himself crawling over to your prone form, beginning to shake with the restraint he was exercising. Your following whine was enough to jut his pelvis forward again—the urge so demanding that his clothed manhood sought out a tight warmth that wasn't even there, and thrust down onto the wooden planks. He paused for a moment as his body worked on its own volition, rutting against the floor a for a bit until he could reign himself in again.

"You should've just told us, baby," he cooed. "We'd be happy to help ye."

Your body registered him as not your semi-friendly acquaintance-somewhat-past rival-packmate, but as someone capable of providing you with a knot, and your back involuntarily arched at the sound of his voice approaching from behind—exposing your pink, sobbing pussy to him, and her slick tears that coated the entirety of your inner thighs and ass.

Soap couldn't even think to stop himself before he dove headfirst into your slippery cunt, his sloppy tongue immediately reaching into your channel and ladling your bittersweet grool into his mouth—swallowing you in mouthfuls and slurping you up like a thick smoothie.

Your pleading moans pierced the air, and you drove your hips back into Soap's face—to which he pressed forward even firmer and gripped the sides of your upper thighs with a painfully horny grip, using his thumbs to split you apart further and rub harshly at your red, neglected, and engorged clit.

"Hidin' out here," he began after pulling away to catch his breath, seamlessly replacing his tongue with his middle and ring finger, "ain't th' way t' handle this, bonnie."

He grinned down at you as he humped the back of your thigh, fingers pumping into you with intensity and speed as he honed in on your g-spot.

"Y' gotta embrace every instinct, hen." — Dogs were animals. By dictionary definition, they were just another subspecies occupying the Animalia kingdom. And animals, in their barest form, were just a representation of the most basic needs that presented themselves in every breathing individual.

So with learning to be a dog—you had to learn to submit to your body's every whim.

Now was as good a time as any for Ghost to pitch in on training sessions.

After Soap had ripped an orgasm from you with deft fingers, he took you from the hayloft and left a squirt-soaked pile of hay in your wake. Now back at the cabin with the Scot laying back on Price's bed after he graciously pumped his semen into you three times over, he held you full-nelson style for his best bud while Gaz relentlessly hammered his hips into yours in the same manner he had been for the past ten minutes. You came time after time again—once achieving several climaxes in the span of a minute—but even with the amount of orgasms you had been given, your body only cried out for another knot, so you were far from finished.

Your head rolled back as his girthy cock pummeled your sensitive walls, but the Doberman forced your head back up with a grip on your jaw—patting your cheek twice before he and Soap simultaneously dived down to your neck and attacked the sides of your throat.

Even as Gaz tossed his head back with a throaty groan and emptied himself inside you, he didn't stop pulsing into you with the shallow thrusts that he was able to manage with the expansion of his knot.

The entire time, he and Soap fed praises and croons into your ears, remarking how perfect you were for them, how gorgeous you looked while so cockdrunk and needing.

It was only after two more generous helpings of Gaz's sperm did his knot deflate enough for him to slip out and roll next to Soap—but you still only had enough clarity to recognize Price's large, steady hands wiping your hair from your face. Being laid down on your stomach near the foot of the bed by your prior partner, you were eye-level with his bulge, and immediately took advantage of the angle.

"Hey— woah, there!" Price grunted when you shot forward to bury your nose into his loins, tongue darting out to simply mouth at whatever was available to you. He fisted your hair and pulled you away from his pants, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss onto your forehead. "I'm flattered, but I'm just a man. I can't give you what you need right now. Maybe another time, okay? Just be a good girl for my boys right now, love."

You could only whine desperately in response—mind still too scrambled to come up with words yet. Price pulled away, and called back to another, unseen individual in the room.

"Ghost. Come n' eat."

Everything between Ghost getting on the bed and tilting your hips up to mount you from behind was a blur, but you could really only focus on how this was the first time that Ghost was touching you properly. It turned you on more than it should've.

"So you wanna be a real dog, 's that right?"

His gravelly, rumbling rasp caught you off guard, but you managed to scrawl out a whimper that resembled "yes" as his brutish cockhead grazed over the folds of your weeping pussy.

"Well, real dogs don't go hidin' away from their pack when their cunt's cryin' out for a knot."

His tone turned condescending as he wound a fist in your hair, tip nudging your slick, used entrance.

"They come crawlin' to 'em on all fours, put that tight little pussy on display, and beg to be stuffed."

He punctuated his accusation with the full sheathing of his breathtakingly dense cock into your tight snatch—the wind being punched from your lungs as you practically felt his tip emerging from your throat.

"You say you're not a mutt, but look at you now; a victim to your instincts, just like any other bitch." — The room is filled with soft moans in the early morning, a lazy Sunday never being lazier as Price sweetly pumps his thick cock into the welcoming heat of your cunt in a spooning position.

The boys have long-since departed for their routine dawn patrol, but the soft-hearted Captain provided a comforting presence as he brought you gentle pleasure—his hand smoothing over the plump swell of your gorgeously rotund stomach; brimming with the promise of a healthy, capable litter of pups in the near future.

"Y'know," you spoke, voice light and airy as John's hand traveled further south to gingerly swipe at your clitoris, "if I'd known it'd take getting knocked up to be allowed in your bed—I'd have bent over for you lot much sooner."

He languidly laughed with you, pressing his lips to the space of skin beneath your ear in tender adoration.

"Every bed in this cabin will be forever available to you. I don't care which you choose in the night—so long as you're here with us, there's nowhere else I'd rather you be."

"Can't think of anywhere better, Captain."

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader x ghost #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Rainbow Bridge

Summary: The reader is incredibly confused when in heaven one day, a dog she's never met before appears by her side...

Pairing: Dean x reader (in heaven)

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of pet death/human death

A/N: I wrote this for my fellow pet owners (and myself). Hopefully those little dudes over the rainbow bridge have their own kinds of adventures like these pups while they wait! (and all the chicken nuggies they can eat 😉)

_______

The air shifted, a warm and joyful presence filling the air. You glanced down in your kitchen, an adorable dog with long fur and pointy ears staring up at you with a wagging tail.

“Well good morning to you, cutie,” you laughed, bending down in your pajamas with your cup of coffee, giving the dog a few pets. “Who might you be?”

The dog woofed and the thought Miracle sprang into your head. That wasn’t entirely uncommon. Animals in the afterlife were able to communicate a bit better than they had when you were alive. 

One of your own dogs you’d had when you were alive, your first dog ever, bounded upstairs from the playroom on the lower level that was for them to use as a way station. Sometimes they liked to stick around home, sometimes by your side and others they’d go off and visit their own animal friends they’d made. But generally they kept to themselves first thing in the day.

“This a friend of yours, baby?” you asked your little dog. He ran over to Miracle, sniffing intensely before he snorted. “No huh. Did you just die, Miracle? I know sometimes dogs are a little confused when they get here and you got your young, healthy bodies back.”

Miracle woofed with a slight head shake, your lips pursing. Your own dog pawed at you, resting a little foot on your arm. You hummed at him, the little guy sending you some positive feelings, sensing you were worried.

“Alright. I’ve never heard of a random dog appearing in heaven unless you request one. You show Miracle around the house and where he can do his business while I get ready. Then we’ll try to figure out who your owner is, okay?” Both dogs yelped happily and took off downstairs, a loud crash at the bottom as they slammed into your boot tray. “Careful! Just cause you can’t get hurt doesn’t mean you can be reckless!”

More than one dog barked back in response and you rolled your eyes, heading for your bedroom.

“At least I don’t have to pay vet bills for you guys anymore. Five dogs is only kind of a lot for one eternity.” You heard more barking and groaned. “I wasn’t complaining you mongrels! I was quite pleased to see your little faces when I died. I could have done with a little less face licking though.”

You swore you could hear the faint echo of laughter in their barks as you got ready for the day.

“If I’m not back by supper make sure you boys get some dinner,” you called, heading outside with Miracle. You loaded into your car and headed down the road, thinking you had a problem. Soon you were taking an off ramp you’d not seen before. You wound up in a mostly empty parking lot, Miracle following you out and into the lone building around.

“Take an issue form and fill out everything before returning it to the counter,” grumbled the guy behind the desk, shoving a clipboard towards you. You stepped through the empty waiting room, picking up the board. You opened your mouth to speak when he sighed. “The form is a requirement by the big man. I’m just doing my job.”

“How do you have a job which is arguably the equivalent of working at the DMV, but in heaven? Like, we don’t have jobs.” He flickered his eyes up at you, making you jump back when they flashed black. 

“Demon, sweetie. It’s part of my rehab program so I can someday be like you. By then, some other schmuck in the program will have my job. No more questions.” 

“Okay…” you said, grabbing a pen and taking a seat, Miracle laying down on the floor beside you. You stared at the form, frowning when you didn’t see your particular issue listed.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Demon,” you said, approaching the counter again, the guy rolling his eyes at you. “My problem doesn’t appear on the form?”

“That’s impossible. Those are the only issues possible of occurring in heaven.” You pointed at Miracle beside you, the guy standing to look down at him.

“I have no clue who this dog is and it’s not my dog’s friend. He just appeared next to me in my kitchen this morning,” you said. The demon stared at you, rubbing his temples. 

“Remember your steps, remember your steps,” he muttered to himself before forcing a smile. “Listen. Dogs don’t get lost in heaven. Either you know his owner-”

“Nope. My dogs don’t recognize him.”

“Fine,” gritted out the demon. “Then you and the owner of this dog are soulmates in some way.”

You blinked at him, the man angrily typing on his keyboard. 

“This dog belongs to a man named Dean Winchester. You and Dean Winchester were alive, somewhat, during the same time. He died a lot younger than you did. You two are…romantic soulmates,” he said, a fax machine going in the back. He got up and ripped off a sheet of paper, handing it to you. “Here’s his address. Now please go bother him instead of me.”

You rolled your eyes, ready to leave when you stopped, glancing down at Miracle. “Do you like, want to pet the dog?”

“Excuse me?” You turned around, the demon still on his feet.

“Well I mean, it’s probably been awhile since you’ve seen a dog or gotten to pet one. You can’t be that horrible if they’re letting you up here with the rest of us. So do you want to pet him?”

It was shocking how quickly the demon hopped over the counter and knelt down next to the dog, giving him a few pats and then a belly rub.

“I had a dog when I was a kid. I can’t wait to see her again once I get out of here,” he said, glancing up at you, seeming to forget he was a demon for a moment. “That was weird.”

“Dogs are kinda perpetually happy here and give off good energy. I’m sure your dog is looking forward to seeing you too,” you said as Miracle sat up and headed for the door. “Apparently I’m on the move. See ya around someday.”

“Yeah. Someday,” he said as you left. Five seconds later, now that you knew where you were going, you popped yourself over to this Dean Winchester’s place. You were standing outside a beautiful two story cabin on a lake, Miracle taking off in a sprint down a dock to where someone was sitting in a chair fishing. 

Your heart felt funny as the man on the dock stood and turned around, cocking his head at you. He gave Miracle a good ruffle before he approached, meeting you halfway across his backyard.

“Hi,” he said with a smile, shaking his head. “I uh-”

You both jumped when your five dogs appeared, running and chasing around a ball in the yard, Miracle joining in after them.

“Your dog popped into my kitchen this morning. I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates. At least that’s what this paper says,” you said, the pack of dogs sprinting around the corner of the house. “I’ve had a few pups in my life.”

“Miracle could do with some siblings,” he said, smirking as you felt a cozy peace inside you. “I was wondering where he ran off to. He normally doesn’t stray far from home. Looks like he was off finding his mom.”

“I thought soulmates were supposed to like…snap together when they’re both in heaven,” you said. He smirked, pursing his lips. “What?”

“I probably wasn’t in heaven when you died. I was jumping around alternate worlds and you look very confused all of a sudden.” You nodded, staring at him wide eyed. “I’m a smidge of a rule breaker…and I kinda know Jack…and took down the old god.”

Your first instinct was to call him crazy but he had no reason to lie. Besides, something ached in his soul, like it had a little bruise on it. This man had known serious pain and then some when he was alive.

“You know, I killed vampires when I was alive. What’s something you did for fun?” he asked. Your jaw dropped, Dean chuckling. “Oh boy. Sweetheart, you and I have some catching up to do.”

“Hi baby,” you said that night as you and Dean laid on a blanket in the yard, your little guy crawling up on the blanket and settling in beside Dean. “Aw, he likes you.”

“He’s protective of you. I can feel it,” he said with a hum. “He hung out with your grandparents a lot after he died. Apparently while you were crying over him on earth, he was chowing down on some of your grandpa’s maple syrup bacon thinking mom’s being overdramatic, I’m gonna see her again. She worries too much.”

You sat up, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that? My grandparents told me they were with him until my parents got here and he stayed with them a while but dogs can’t talk to us like that here. We can sense them and stuff but we can’t know complete thoughts.”

Dean smiled, scratching behind the dogs ears. 

“Well, I’m a little special. I worked a case where I could communicate with dogs once. It came back up here. This little guy adores the fuck out of you and wishes you hadn’t been so sad back then but he understands. He is pretty awesome,” laughed Dean. 

“And he’s a little shit,” you giggled. “What else does he say?”

“He’s glad you got more dogs over your life and he’s glad you found me finally. Also if we don’t stop talking soon he’s going to go inside and sleep on our bed,” chuckled Dean. “Cranky baby, aren’t you?”

The dog snorted, stood up, licked your nose and trotted off inside with his chin turned up.

“Like I said, he’s a sassy little shit,” you chuckled, Dean pulling you closer. “So Dean. What do you got planned for the afterlife?”

“A bit of fishing here and there. Working on my car. Going out for a drink at the roadhouse. Hanging with my brother. Sneak out of heaven to get up to shit every once in a while, hopefully with you. How’s that sound?” he asked. You leaned over and kissed him slowly, rolling back with a smile. 

“Sounds like a plan, Winchester. Time to start having some fun in eternity.”

___________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #dean x #dean winchester one shot

[reveluving]

graves trying to fuck his shy wife in the car somewhere but shes worried someone will see and all that so he has to assure her it'll be just fine

SHIET BARK WOOF WOOF BARK 🗣️🔊 BABY, YOUR MIND!!!! THANK YOU 🫶🏼

Includes: car s~mut (minors DNI!), teasing in public, praising, dirty talking, one (1) spanking

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

To say you looked ethereal in the dress he bought for you was an understatement.

“Phil–!” You stammered, digging your nails into his jacket as he thrust his hips upwards. One of his hands held the back of your head, bringing you in for a passionate kiss—your glossy lips sending him to a drunken haze, while the other gripped your hips, bringing them up and down at an animalistic pace.

You could only imagine how much the car was shaking from the outside.

He had brought you to a fancy restaurant for your anniversary—the kind that needed a reservation months prior. And on the day of your special dinner, he left you a little surprise on the bed. 

Inside the black monochromatic gift box was a long, luxurious-looking dress, plus some matching jewellery. As if he hadn’t bought you plenty already.

And he knew had made one of the greatest decisions in his life when he finally got to see you wear it. 

It began with romantic kisses; anywhere from your hands and even went as far as nuzzling your cheeks, listening to your giggles as his stubble tickled you.

And then, he took a few steps further. 

Your body never stopped heating up when he started leaving lazy kisses on your neck, sighing contently as your breath hitched each time. Nor did he ever stop staring at you even when your food arrived. You were lucky your table was far from the eyes of the customers, though you couldn’t say the same about the waiters and waitresses. The side split only gained his access for his naughty hands to roam and slide up your legs.

And yet he spoonfed you his food and even joked around about random topics as if one of his hands wasn’t squeezing and stroking your thigh—the coldness of his wedding band contrasting to the rising temperature of your own body. 

You couldn’t do anything about the smugness on your husband’s face, even teasing you by asking if you were alright—he knew you’d likely let out a cute moan of yours if you did attempt to answer him.

And as soon as he paid for the meal, he spared you the endless torture, partially because, he, too, couldn’t resist any longer.

Upon entering the car, he immediately pulled you to his lap. He didn’t waste any time, bunching up your dress to reveal your ass, then pulling your panties to the side.

“Phil—! Wait!” You squeaked, looking left and right in fear of anyone passing by in the parking lot. Your husband cooed almost condescendingly as you hid your face in his neck. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t y’want me to touch you?” His hand made its way under your dress, then past the crotch area of your damp underwear, biting down a smirk as your slick smeared his fingers. He hummed in approval, “I know I do. ‘Can feel this pretty pussy making a mess—fuck.”

You were mentally debating on begging him to take you this instant or to drive you home to be fucked. But your resolve was breaking, damn near disappearing, as if his indifference, or better yet, the thrill of getting caught in a public space was doing stuff to you.

He snapped you out of your thoughts real fast when he slapped your ass. Your yelp turned into whines when he began massaging them to soothe the sting.

“C’mon,” He assured you, though if you weren’t so lightheaded, you would’ve noticed the hint of desperation in his tone, “Need t’fuck my wife stupid in her pretty dress,” He pinched on the fabric of your dress for a moment, “So fucking beautiful f’me.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back as he slid his hands up your back, watching your face contort with great intensity. 

It didn’t take long for him to convince you, and when he took his cock out of his pants—slapping against his stomach as he finally rid himself of the constriction, your self-control finally broke.

Just like he did.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #eyes locked hands locked series #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x f!reader #phillip graves x you #graves x reader #graves x f!reader #graves x you #cod graves #commander graves #commander graves x reader #commander graves x f!reader #commander graves x you #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwiii #cod mw3

[mrsoharaa]

Ꮺ ❥ 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

characters: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

content warnings: slight blood/wounds, fluff

You had an excruciating, long tiring day of work. Your entire body felt like it was on the verge of violently collapsing from how many hours you were picking up at the hospital, due to the lack of staff and the consistent tirelessness engagement with the patients.

You exhale a protracted exasperated sigh, mangling your keys into the door slot of your apartment. Fumbling a bit with the keyhole, you grumbled out a frustrated grunt- already too exhausted to deal with any small inconveniences that just added to your weighted stress hauling you down.

You roll your heavy eyelids, listening to the harmonious click of your door finally opening. A more relaxed and satisfied breath slips pass your lips.

Prying your door open, you stepped into your dim lit apartment, locked the door behind you and tossed your keys onto the entry table near your door. Hearing nothing but complete, utter silence that scoured through your home.

You cocked a brow in confusion, normally your Welsh Corgi- Cheddar, would be enthusiastically welcoming you home with consistent happy barks and jumping all over your legs with eccentric tail wags the moment the doorknob twists and turns from you arrival from work.

"Cheddar? I'm home!" you call out, hearing nothing but pure, unsettled silence.

A strange, long awkward silence that almost engraved chills down the stride of your stilled body.

You tilt your head a bit, flickering on the hallway light as you made your way through your soundless loft. Searching through each room carefully for your adorable pup.

He couldn't have escaped from the house, you made sure you locked your door. And he surely couldn't climb out a window. His legs were too short and stubby.

So...where was he?

"Cheddar? come here baby! mama's home!" you exclaimed once more, emerging from your quieted bedroom, pacing your way into your lit living room. You skimmed around but still nothing.

"Huh, where the hell is that dog-- woof! woof!" your head immediately spritz around to the sound of your yelping dog, twirling on your feet you gaze down at your barking, fluffy companion "There you are silly! don't do that again! nearly gave mama a heart attack!" you exhaled a burdensome sigh of relieve, watching your small pup continue barking upward, his tail wagging wildly, fangs hardly protracting from his continuous barks.

Your brows knit together confusingly, wondering what it was, he was barking at.

Too focus on your noisy pet, you felt a drop of liquid plop onto your right shoulder. Glimpsing onto your limb, you notice a deep crimson colored dot stain into your teal scrubs.

"What the-- woof! woof!" your dog continues, his tail still wagging side to side in such a ravenous pace. You shush him, feeling another droplet of crimson liquid permeate onto your clothed shoulder. Plucking your finger onto the soften fabric of your work scrub, you leer closer to the familiar, strong scent of iron on the pad of your finger.

"Blood...?" you blinked slowly, gradually lifting your head upward to see a bulked, hovering man wearing a strange red and blue suit clinging onto the ceiling of your apartment.

Nearly jumping backwards onto your heels, you covered your gaping mouth quickly and watched the looming, crouching man stuck on your ceiling waver a finger over his mask.

"Shh, not a word, señora" his voice was deep, smooth-- velvet like, still a bit muffled behind that thin fabric, but still gentle and hoarse. It was almost comforting and reeling.

How did he get up there? How was he clinging to the ceiling the way that he was?

Your body immediately stiffens, watching the man grunt heavily, painfully almost as he tries to crawl his way off from your ceiling. But the moment he inches his way closer towards your open window, he looses his grip amongst the ceiling and clashes brutally down onto your wooden floor. Heaves out another, pitched painful grunt this time. Your widen irises skim directly to where his large hands were strictly pinned, onto his right side.

Notices a tremendous amount of pooling blood seep through the side of his suited body.

"Oh no..." you mumble under your breath, quickly kicking off your feet towards the injured, mysterious costumed man.

Kneeling down before him, you waved out your small hands to aid him, but felt his right hand abruptly clasp onto your wrist. Ceasing you from reaching out towards him, his masked face turning in your direction "I'm fine-" he gruffs with another discomforted groan, his left hand holding onto dear life onto his bleeding out torso "Please, I'm a nurse I can help" you murmur softly, gazing over his strangely suited, yet tremendously built figure.

He blankly stares at you for a long moment, sighing heavily as he carefully lays his wounded, weighted body down onto your harden floor.

୨ ♡ ୧

After a half an hour of patching up the mysterious man's side, you softly glance up from his strange outfit to the fitted mask that shielded his cryptic face. Truly, you were inquisitively curious as to what he looked like beneath that unusual mask, but you avoided to pry. No matter how much it gnawed at your curiosity.

"There, all patched up- at least, momentarily" you weave out a soft breath, finishing up stitching up the long, deepen gash that carved from his stocked torso "Though, I do highly advise that you seek proper medical treatment" you advised, putting away your little emergency stash of stitches and other medical supplies back into your little box you kept beneath your bathroom sink. You watch the man groan lowly, rolling his broaden shoulders as he hisses out a muffled, sustaining grunt. Feels a throbbing ache nag at his freshly inflicted wound "This will do, thank you" He stands up to his feet, takes a step forward only to be pushed back slightly by your giddy, curious dog jumping at the soaring man.

You could see the indent of a crooked brow within his mask glancing down at your dog with such confusion.

Strange.

Cheddar was never really too found of male guests.

So, what was it about this particular man that he liked?

"Odd, Cheddar doesn't really care much for men...but with you..." you tilt your head in curiosity, glimpsing from your surprisingly happy eccentric pup to the towering, strange man still wearing an odd costume.

"Cheddar? you named your dog after a type of cheese?" he tilts his head, watching the playful dog dart off to retrieve a toy, only to plant back down in front of the hovering man with said toy in it's mouth "It's cute! he's cute! it suits him!" you exclaimed, listening to the tall mans sleek voice chuckle in the most subtle, gentle way. Radiates a swarm of butterflies to flutter in the pits of your simulated belly.

"Right, well thank you for your care but I need to get going一" he slightly leans forward to subtly pet the top of Cheddar's head and paces over to your closed window, halts immediately when he see's a violent rush of pivoting rain pour down from the darken, shrouded skies.

Sighs in disbelief and annoyance, slugging his lengthy shoulders from the inconvenience.

"Seems like you can't go anywhere for the time being..." you called out softly, cleaning up the remaining mess of your medical supplies and the stained hand towels that drenched of his oozing blood.

"Stay, I can make you something to eat or...something" you smile, watching his slouching, hefty frame slightly turn back towards your direction "...So you're just willing to offer a random stranger, wearing strange clothing, bleeding out on your floor, and invading your home with a hot meal?" he remarks blandly, questionably, you giggle, shrugging "Why not? I'm a nurse, caring is part of the job...and for what it's worth一 I can cook a mean Lasagna" you brim your gleaming smile towards the conflicted, mysterious man.

He knew he shouldn't.

He shouldn't implore of staying. He was a busy man.

Always on the go.

But there was just something about you, your kind, gentle spirit that radiated such purity and endearment that wooed the stoic, man's soul. Plus...it didn't seem like the horrendous storm outside was stopping any time sooner.

"...I don't want to implore" he mumbles deeply, studying your skipping figure prance into your open kitchen, already preparing for your shared dinner "You're not imploring! plus, you do need to embellish in some nutrients!" you sing happily, playing some background music as your dance your way through your pantry to gather all the ingredients and supplies you needed for your dish.

He couldn't help but lift a wry, small smile beneath his mask.

୨ ♡ ୧

He gazes down at you behind his mask, watches the thin, loose strands of your hair gently fall along your peaceful, slumbering face. Hesitates at first, but carefully brushes the loose strands back upon your head that nestled ever so comfortably amongst his sturdy lap. Studies your beautiful features that leered his attention. The subtlety of your graceful radiance pulling him in.

He shouldn't feel like this.

He hardly knew you.

You were a complete stranger.

And yet...

Such a kind and compassionate soul you were. Caring and tending to his inflicted, open wounds. Cooking him a hot homemade meal and holding light, carefree conversations. Showing him such welcoming hospitality.

And you, don't even know him.

You don't even recognize him from being the infamous Spider-Man that goes around saving people and stopping bad ones from deteriorating the city and causing harm.

Which...he oddly liked about you the most.

Only a few hours of dressing his wounds, initiating small talk and having dinner with you made him feel...things.

Things he knew he shouldn't or...didn't, want to be feeling.

But he couldn't help it.

You were just so intriguing. So open and trusting.

So一 Captivating.

He tucks another loose small strand of hair behind your ear this time, watching the supple plush of your lips pucker with each silent breath you would exhale. Finds himself so gradually infatuated with them.

How full and pretty they looked. How soft and silky- awfully tempting.

He fights back the ascending urge to lean forward and press his lips against yours. To feel the velvety softness of your tender, plump lips against his. To taste the sweetness that lingered on those full, pinkish mounts of flesh permeate onto his prickling skin.

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily, gently holding you in his strong, sculpted arms and carry's you into your bedroom. Gently uses his sleek hips to creak open the door, glancing down at you to make sure you were still sound asleep.

Watches you hurdle closely into his firm chest comfortably, mumbling something softly under your silent breath with a caressing smile.

Nearly trips over his own feet from his distraction of gazing upon you, notices Cheddar prancing up next to him, now jumping onto your queen sized bed.

He grumbles under his breath, a remark of almost tripping himself over something so-- silly.

Silly...yes.

He looks down at you once again, gently nestling you into your bed and waving your soften comforter over your stilled body. Stares down at you for a long moment, watching the pure peace and tranquility dawn all over your delicate, serene face.

He stills himself.

Sighs once again, but more heavily.

"¿Qué haces, idiota?..." he reels back his mask fully from his face, his luminous, cardinal irises gently hovers over you. Giving you a last look over.

Leans in and placidly kisses the corner of your silky lips with his.

Hums deeply from how soft and warm they really were against his.

Wishes he could stay like this for a bit longer.

But he couldn't.

He had priorities to take care of.

He brushes over your head with his right hand softly one last time, gleaming eyes carefully studying your stunning, restful face.

"Thank you for everything, Hermosa..." he murmurs lightly, resurfacing his mask back upon his face, as he stands back onto his feet and waltz towards your bedroom window. Opens it and leaps onto the window seal, crooning his head over his right shoulder to steal one last glimpse at you.

Smiles beneath his mask, jumps off from your window seal, closes your window and swings off into the lightly sprinkling night.

Keeping the vivid image of your beautiful face embedded deeply into the back of his mind.

Hoping, to run into you again soon.

#I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVED THIS ONE #OMFG #miggyyy! 🥺💕 #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv

[lis-likes-fics]

Yoga Partners

Pairings: Marc Spector x Reader, mentions of Steven Grant x Reader & Jake Lockley x Reader Word Count: 2.6k Kink: Floor Sex Warnings: NSFW, fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms, swearing (a lot of 'fuck's), creampie... A/N: I kinda wrote this really quickly but I had fun with it cuz it's actually like....really vanilla and really sweet? Idk, enjoy!

Marc leans against the door frame, strong arms folded over his chest as he stares appreciatively. He watches you stretch, knees tucked under you as you reach up above your head on a yoga mat. He watches your muscles tense and relax as you take in those slow, deep breaths that make your chest and back rise and fall smoothly.

After a while, you change, pulling your legs from under you. You rise up on your hands and feet, to the tips of your toes in a downward dog.

Marc sighs with a smile, shaking his head gently as he blows a second breath out. "Woof," he mumbles.

You chuckle, "Are you just going to stand there and stare like a pervert, or are you going to join me?"

He shrugs a shoulder, shucking his jacket from his arms and tossing it onto the bed behind you. "Don't mind if I do."

When he comes up behind you, he sets his hand on the ample round of your butt and smooths his palm there. You roll your eyes but continue holding as you focus your breathing in a steady in and out.

He smacks it lightly. "Marc," you scold playfully with a little chuckle. "Either join me or I'll ask Steven to do it."

He grumbles under his breath and kneels down to the floor.

"Lay on your stomach," you say as you do the same. He follows your instructions and copies you. "Hands by your side, lift your upper body slowly."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him starting a pushup. You roll your eyes and laugh, moving out of your position to fix him. "No! This is yoga, we are not exercising."

"Well, you basically said do a pushup, so I did a pushup," he shrugs. You push him back down gently and fix his stance to do it properly. As you place your hand on his chest and ease him up slowly, he struggles a little. "You know, I'm not that flexible."

"Funny," you giggle, "Steven is."

"Jake isn't."

"Well, Jake also lives in a perpetual hunch so…" He laughs. "Maybe I should get Steven. He's my yoga partner anyway."

Marc shoots you a mock dirty. "Steven's asleep."

"Aw," you sigh, smoothing your hand along his back as you have him hold the position. "I guess I'll have to settle for the…second best."

He scoffs and turns his head to look at you. "Second best?" You don't look him in the eyes as you shrug. "I'll show you second best."

In the next second, you yelp as he practically tackles you to the floor, pinning you under his body as he takes hold of your wrists in a gentle grip. You laugh heartily as he leans over you, he watches with a fond smile.

"I can still pin your ass."

You lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're right, my big, strong man."

He shakes his head and bends down to kiss you. He captures your lips, and you smile against them.

"Don't patronize me," he teases.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him back down, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling gently. His lips strayed from yours, finding your neck and your collarbone and column of your throat. He kisses you gently, dedicatedly, listening to your light sighs.

"I love you, baby," he whispers into your skin. You smile wide, looking at him through hooded eyes as you hold him closer.

You guide your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes flutter at the feeling as you pet him slowly. "I love you, too."

He kisses you again, a little fraction of his weight dropping down some more on your body. You take it in stride, spreading your legs apart to give him a place to lay. He settles there as you continue to embrace, too loving and too gentle and too happy to just lay there and kiss.

A tiny gasp escapes you when he grinds his hips. It's a small motion, hardly noticeable, like an involuntary jerk. But it fuels Marc's sudden eagerness as he does it again, a little more voluntary this time. A stifled moan rises from your throat and he's hooked.

He takes hold of your hips, steadying you as he moves with a new goal. You can feel that goal growing between his legs and pressing into your thigh, and you sigh at the mere idea.

You feel his hand dip under the waistband of your leggings, hooking his fingers around it and pulling it down to reveal your panties. "Are you gonna be wet for me?" he asks, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You hum, "Maybe."

His hand dips into your underwear and brushes your clit on the way to your pussy, his finger slipping between your folds thoughtfully. He just hums before delving his thick finger inside of you. You moan gently at the feeling, and he appreciated your warmth as you fluttered around him sensitively.

One of your hands left his hair to grip his arm, especially when he added a second finger and began massaging them inside you, slow and measured in a skilled manner. Your back arched into him on a curl of his fingers. "Ahh, Marc," you mutter.

"S'that feel good, baby?" he hums beside your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. You nod meekly. "You want more?"

You nod again, breathing a heavy breath, "Please?"

His hand speeds up, the rhythm of his thrusts moving to bring you to the edge of ecstasy. You moaned, the sound almost whiney as you gripped his arm and tugged at his dark hair.

You feel his thumb brush your clit and you gasp, clenching around his fingers and whispering his name again. You wrap your legs around his waist and keen into his touch as he keeps touching you. You shudder when you cum, the feathery pleasure rattling through your body.

"Mm-Marc," you moan.

"Yeah, you like that?" he mutters, watching you cum with pleasure of his own, his eyes blown wide with lust and hunger. "You look so pretty when you cum, baby."

You smile at his sweetness, moaning into his mouth as you bring him down for a kiss. He goes in for two.

Marc lightly smacks the side of your ass, and you turn over onto your stomach with his hand on your waist. He folds his body to yours, kissing the back of your neck and leaning forward to put you on your knees.

He reaches for your hands, intertwines them with his on top to swallow yours whole. He keeps kissing you, any skin exposed to him is free game as he removes his shorts and underwear with one hand.

"Take off your shirt," you tell him, a gentle command as you glance over your shoulder.

He laughs lightly. "You want me naked, babygirl?"

"Well, duh."

"Okay, well, I'm taking this off, too," he says, snapping your sports bra against your side.

And he does. He gets rid of his shirt first, stretches of soft and smooth and scarred skin revealed in the light of the room as he strips you of your bra. His hands smooth over your back, feeling every inch of your skin as he rounded to the front to knead your breasts.

You feel him pressing against your thigh and clench around nothing at the thought. You reach behind you, your fingers brushing his tip as you take him into your hand and pump him in your palm. Marc hums lightly, wrapping a large hand around your smaller one and encouraging it up and down the length of his cock.

After a moment, he removes your hand, guiding you back into your former pose so your hands support you. He pumps his cock a couple more times, and you hold your breath when you feel him poke at your wet pussy. Slowly, he pushes inside and you feel your breath stop short in your lungs as he enters you inch by inch.

When he’s fully seated, you let out a deep sigh. You mutter his name and he grunts in your ear when your pussy flutters around him. He kisses the back of your shoulder, one hand wrapped around your chest and groping your breast as the other holds him up. Slowly, he rocks the both of your back and forth, a gentle sway that begins a steady rhythm in and out of you. Your breath hitches as your eyes fall shut at the feeling.

The drag of his cock is agonizingly slow as he eases in and out of you. After a while, you grow impatient as you moan. “Marc…” He hums deeply, the sound reverberating in his chest before a hiss as you clench around his cock. “More.”

“More?” he asks, holding you tighter. “You want more?”

“Yes, please,” you reply.

“Okay. You can have more.” He nods, unwrapping his arm from your chest in favor of guiding you forward until your hands reach above your head, palms to the floor and ass in the air. Marc straightens up, his hands roaming your back a moment before he grips your hips firmly and begins to set a different pace.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he praises, eyes closed as his hips thrusts into you. You duck your head between your arms, resting it against the mat underneath you as you feel the way he rocks into you. His pace is steady, a measured in and out movement that you can feel slowly building with Marc’s desperation as you continue to squeeze around him. “Fuck, I’m tryna be gentle here, baby.”

You grip the edge of the mat between your fingers, your breath heavier in your lungs than it was before as you shake your head. “Don’t,” you tell him with a cocky grin. “We already stretched.”

Marc is going to lose his mind. He grips your waist in his large hands as he begins to fuck you, pushing you forward onto the floor while he keeps your ass high in the air to fuck your pussy how he likes. He’s rough and fast as he has you gasping for air as you cry out for him. His hips snap into you with a ferocity he displays in stressful life as well. He’ll likely make it up to you later, a slow fuck in bed before he went to sleep and let Steven take over. Steven, who would likely also give you a nice slow fuck after just because you look so beautiful. Unless he goes absolutely ballistic and decides to fuck you into the bed, too.

Marc grips your ass and your hips and any skin he can find, grabby like a man who’s never touched a woman before and is just amazed by the way they feel. He grunts and groans, dark and deep sounds that fill the room with your high-pitched whines as he continues to pound into you.

“M-Marc!” you gasp. “Fuck, feels good.”

He’s just as out of breath as you feel when he responds. “Yeah? You like that? You like when I fuck you into the floor like this?”

You nod, holding the mat tighter and fluttering around him helplessly. “Yess, ‘s fuckin’ ama-zing.”

He chuckles at the way your words slur together, punctuated by harsh thrusts that make you stutter. He leans his head back, his lips parting as a few loud breaths leave his chest. “Fuck, you feel so fucking perfect, baby. Perfect for me.”

You preen under his praise, shuddering when his hands caressing your naked body. But you whine and whimper when he pulls out of you. Marc sighs as he smacks your side lightly, flipping you back onto your back as he immediately bends down and starts kissing you, his mouth all over your body to taste your skin. He encourages your legs over his shoulders, effectively folding you in half and making you moan loudly when he thrusts into you again. His hips snap into you quickly and you feel like you’ll bust if he keeps going.

You reach up and grab his face, pulling his forehead against yours and ignoring the ache in your thighs when you do so. The sounds of your heavy breathing and his hips slapping against your wet pussy fill the room, and it’s absolutely filthy as you continue to moan for him.

When his thumb finds your throbbing clit once more, your eyes flutter as you whine almost pathetically. “Ahh, fuck,” you curse, pulling his closer. “Fuck, you’re gonna…make me cum.”

He nods, rubbing your clit harder and loving the way your arousal has coated your inner thighs and his, making you absolutely wet and soaked and giving him a much easier advantage with your clit. “Cum for me, baby. Then I’ll cum for you.”

He isn’t rough with your clit, he’s hardly ever rough with your clit. Marc is always insistent whenever it comes to it, he rubs fast circles that build you up so quickly and it makes your head swarm. That’s what he does now, building you up and up and up until you come crashing down with a loud cry of pleasure, which blinds you and has you calling Marc’s name like a forgotten deity.

“Marc! Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whimper loudly. You clench down around him, fluttering uncontrollably as you suck him in.

He keeps fucking you, fast and rough and deep and a little louder as you orgasm pushes him closer to his own edge. He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit, even after you’ve come down. You squirm as the aftershocks of pleasure sting, but he’s so attune to your body that it doesn’t take long for it to ease and return to that blossoming pleasure in your belly.

Marc’s free hand smooths up the underside of your leg and you whimper a little when he moves it even further, spreading you wider to get a deeper angle inside of you. He curses under his breath, catching your lips quickly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You squeeze harder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His cock twitches inside of you, and you bring him into another kiss. He cums inside of you, gripping your thigh tight and trying to keep his rhythm on your clit as he grunts loudly. “Fuck!” he nearly shouts. “Fuck, babygirl. You’re fucking perfect.”

He flicks his wrists as you join him in another orgasm, moaning weakly as you gush around him. He keeps fucking into you as you both cum, though his thrusts are choppy and short. He grinds his cock deep inside of you, and you both catch your breaths as the last waves of pleasure rock through you.

You sigh longingly, whining when he pulls out of you and whining again when he lets your legs down and you feel the way they ache from being up for so long. You kiss Marc again, and he opens his eyes to look at you. “I love you,” you assure him.

Marc smiles, a slow one that slowly consumes his face with a too-fond expression. He kisses your lips and the corner of your mouth and then your forehead and you feel warm inside at the affection. “I love you, too, baby,” he says. “Love you so much.”

“Good,” you sigh. “Now it’s time to shower. I’m fucking soaked.”

He laughs heartily, sitting up and holding out a hand to ease you up as well. “No kidding.” He glances at the both of you, cum covering your thighs and his and leaving you with a big mess to clean. “We’ll have to do this floor thing again, though.”

You pat his chest, already walking away as you smile fondly, letting him trail after you like a puppy. “Mhm.”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader Tag yourself here...

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x reader smut #marc spector smut #fanfic #fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #smut #reader insert #female reader

[devildomwriter]

Mammon Insisting He’s Not a Dog/Cat Compilation

4-C

Beelzebub: “Mammon, quiet! …House!”

Mammon: “Gr…I ain’t a dog, Beel!”

12-8

Mammon: “Hey…whoa…hey! Asmo, you bastard! Don’t drag me by the scruff of my neck! I ain’t a cat…AAAH!”

22-19

MC: “Shake, Mammon…shake! C’mon boy!”

Mammon: *excitedly* “Woof! …! I didn’t mean to bark… It just sorta happened! And I’m NOT a dog!”

32-14

MC: “Bad dog! Mammon…house!”

Mammon: *yelp*!

36-12

MC: *Pet Mammon on the head*

Mammon: “…Hey. I’m not a dog, y’know!”

40-5

MC: “Bad dog! Stay!”

Mammon: *yelp*!

52-15

MC: “I know, right? Those two are like cats and dogs!”

Mammon: “Hey, who’re you callin’ a cat?!”

77-1

Mammon: “Yo, who’re you callin’ a loudmouth?! Gr…Satan! Don’t drag me off by the scruff of my neck! Dammit, I’m not a cat!”

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me thanks #omswd mammon #funny obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

CW for dub con, stay safe everyone <3

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 5 - Prompt: Docile @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 793 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius chuckled and shook his head. “Not sure I could envision you as a cat though. It seems too docile. Doesn’t fit your tough guy image.”

Tough guy? Oh, he means the scars.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Remus said with a shrug.

“I suppose that’s true. I doubt anyone looking at James would expect him to be the overgrown puppy that he is.”

Sirius had mentioned James at least a dozen times over the course of their conversation. It was painfully obvious how close they were. Remus would be jealous if Sirius hadn’t referred to him as a brother. James was welcome to that title, or he could fight Regulus for it. Remus wanted a different one.

James is about to be my new best friend. Sorry, Lily.

“You’re not what I expected either,” he said.

“No? Well, good.” Sirius lifted his chin defiantly and it took every ounce of his willpower not to soothe the sudden tension along Sirius’s jaw.

Remus shifted directions quickly to ease back into their previous casual comradery. “Neither is Padfoot.”

Sirius’s expression softened at once. His dog and his best friend really were the bloke’s weaknesses. Remus mentally highlighted and underlined “befriend James and Padfoot.” He was already making strides on both, but he wanted the security of covering all of his bases.

“Yeah, that’s true. My brother is scared of him, can you believe that?”

“Well, Regulus was nearly tackled by him yesterday.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. Padfoot wouldn’t hurt him!” Sirius insisted.

Remus nodded agreeably. “I know, but it’s understandable for him to be nervous around a dog that he isn’t familiar with.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Yeah, alright. I just wish he would relax a bit. My brother has had a perpetual stick up his arse since we were kids.”

“Some people enjoy that sort of thing,” Remus teased, delighted at the opening Sirius gave him.

“Some people? Or you?” Sirius arched an eyebrow and smirked.

The instant change to a flirtatious tone was exactly what Remus was aiming for. Distract, deflect, and delay was his go-to response to confrontation. It was good to know that the strategy was just as effective with Sirius.

Just step on me already.

“I’m flexible,” he replied with a shrug.

Sirius barked out an incredulous laugh and rolled his eyes. “That was a terrible segue.”

Okay, maybe not “just as effective” with Sirius.

“I never claimed to be charismatic.”

Before Sirius could respond, Padfoot jerked forward. He sniffed the air avidly, then let out a loud, excited woof. Sirius was tugged with enough force to snap his shoulder, he struggled to maintain control of the leash until he started sprinting to keep up. Remus hurried after them, concerned that Padfoot would drag Sirius to the ground in his rush to round the next bend.

“Shite! Look out!” Sirius shouted, gripping both hands around the leash.

Remus saw the impending collision while Sirius was still regaining his balance. He already had one hand around the leash and an arm around Sirius’s chest before he yelled out a warning to the vendors setting up their carts in the centre of the town square. With a grimace, he skidded to a stop. The leash went taut as Padfoot fought the resistance of their combined weight, then slack when the dog abruptly stopped.

A loud yelp sounded at the same time as Remus’s grunt when Sirius lost his balance. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and muttered curses. The moment Sirius flailed, Padfoot bolted forward, wrenching the leash from their hands.

“Padfoot!” Sirius elbowed Remus in the face and stomped on his shin in his mad scramble to sit upright. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Not the sausage cart!”

Remus tucked his hands under Sirius’s hips and shoved him up onto his feet, then ducked and rolled away to give him room. His leg smarted from the kick and he wisely opted to get the fuck out of his way rather than attempt to chase after the dog. Within seconds, Sirius was gone. The loud clomp of his boots on the pavement echoed back in a jeering taunt.

He sprawled out on the grass and groaned heavily. One eye was definitely swelling and the sharp pain blossomed out of the socket and spread across his cheek and into his nose. His leg wasn’t broken, but there was likely a bruise there too. If he was lucky, it would be a perfect imprint of Sirius’s boot.

May have taken “step on me” a little too literally.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #wolfstar microfic

[echo-goes-mmm]

Old Friends (Oneshot) #1

Masterpost

Next

Warnings: briefly implied non-con, off-screen torture

Ugh. What happened? The team… the warehouse… the explosion…

Oh god, the explosion!

Hero bolted upright, his head throbbing. He groaned, screwing his eyes shut. He fumbled for his lamp. But there was no lamp.

He opened his eyes.

He wasn’t in his bedroom at home base.

He was in a dim cell.

Hero was in a dim cell, stripped of all his equipment and chained to a stone wall. In Supervillain’s base.

Fuck.

Steps echoed down the hall. 

But instead of Supervillain, a small-framed man limped down the hall with a tray. He looked… vaguely familiar. Or maybe it was a concussion talking.

The man turned to unlock his cell. It was a hand scan opener, which was interesting. Very classy.

He definitely had a concussion. 

The man had dark eyebags and even darker hair. He looked like shit, a bruise on his face and his eyes dull. They were purple, so he must be Powered. Still, somewhat familiar.

“Hey,” said Hero, as the man sat down the tray, “Do I know you?”

The man shrugged. He shook two pills from a bottle, and offered them to Hero.

He eyed them. “What are they?” 

“Painkillers,” he said, voice hoarse. “Master wants you to take them.”

“Master? You mean Supervillain.”

“Mhm.” He jostled the painkillers in his palm. What the hell? Supervillain was involved, he didn’t have a choice.

He took the pills, and the man handed him a bottle of water. Thank god.

“Are you two enjoying your reunion?” Hero jumped at the voice. He looked up, and Supervillain was just inside the cell, smirking that horrible grin at them.

The man stood up with the tray, eyes downcast. He moved to stand next to Supervillain, who placed a hand on the back of his neck.

“Reunion?”

“Aw, you don’t remember? Little Laith? Of course, he’s just my dog now. Speak, pup.”

“Woof,” said the man, staring at the floor.

What? 

Laith was a snarky, arrogant thief, Hero’s first Powered arrest nearly a decade ago. He could literally disappear into shadows, and occasionally teleport through them. What did Supervillain do to make him so… lifeless?

“I- I thought he was in prison.”

“Anything’s possible when you grease a few palms, sweetheart.” Laith flinched.

“You two have fun.” Supervillain pushed off the wall, waving them off. Hero watched him go.

“Laith?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.”

“If- If I knew you’d end up here- I wouldn’t have arrested you.”

“It’s okay.” Laith turned and left, sealing the door behind him.

___________________

“My team will come for me,” he panted. His entire body was an open wound, pain searing into his nerves.

“No they won’t, sweetheart.”

“Of course they will, there’s a tracker in my equipment, genius,” he spat.

Supervillain laughed. “You mean the one I had my pup plant on the body in your place? You’re dead, my dear, and all those gadgets are in my hands to study.”

“What- that’s not-” his head spun. Supervillain lit up a cigarette, as if he was enjoying a smoke after getting laid instead of after a torture session.

“Including your comlink. Congratulations on helping me take down your team, Hero. I’m sure you’ll see them soon. You’ll be cell neighbors! How fun.”

___________________

There was a commotion down the hall. Hero peered out past the bars. There was a yelp and a firm voice, but he couldn’t make out the words. Eventually the figures came into view.

Supervillain was dragging Laith by the hair, his heeled boots stomping across the stone floor. Hero shrank away from the sight.

Supervillain tossed Laith into the cell across from him, which had to be on purpose. But he didn’t stop there, pulling out a remote and a cattle prod. Supervillain pressed a button, and the hallway and cells lit up with floodlights.

They drowned out any possible shadows Laith could disappear into. Hero had used the same technique to catch Laith all those years ago. He felt sick watching his own strategy used for torture.

Supervillain pocketed the remote, and the cattle prod sparked.

Oh god.

“My dear pup,” he sighed, “you were doing so well.”

“Please, Master,” begged Laith, “I’m sorry!” 

It was the most energetic he had heard Laith in the week he spent in this hell hole. And it was spent begging Supervillain for mercy.

Hero screwed his eyes shut and covered his ears. It didn’t help cover up the screaming.

___________________

Laith brought him lunch, after. Just like usual. As if nothing had happened. Laith trembled, the cup of water rattling on the tray.

“Remember when you disappeared just to taunt me when I chased you? You’d make some comment about how I was an idiot or looked like crap.”

Laith sat the tray down in front of him.

“I remember.”

“What did he do to you? You used to be stealing diamonds and Rembrandts and now you're helping that monster.”

Laith glanced behind him. He sat down next to Hero. He tapped at the black choker around his neck, but on inspection it wasn’t a choker at all.

It was a slim metal power-dampener, a model he’d never seen before. A red light blinked at him. The only bulky part was a small box on the side, and Hero knew what it was on sight. A shock component.

“You can’t leave, can you?” Laith shook his head. 

“He hasn’t let me teleport for so long… I don’t know if I can anymore.” Laith was thin and ragged, bruises and burns up and down his face and arms. He shouldn’t be doing anything, much less using his abilities.

Hero didn’t have powers, he relied on his tech. Tech that Supervillain now had. He examined the collar. The lock was obviously in the shock component, and was a clear design flaw.

“I could get it off,” he said, “I’m sure of it. A minute with a piece of wire, and we could get out of here.”

Laith jerked away from him.

“It shocked me when I tired,” he said, despair in his voice. “I can’t take it off.”

“No I- we- could do it. C’mon Laith. You never hurt anyone back then, even when you could. Even when it was easier to than not. Don’t let Supervillain use you to murder innocent people.”

“I can't.”

“Please Laith,” be begged. “People are going to die.”

“He’ll kill me if I fail. Or worse.”

“How much worse can it get?”

___________________

Laith came to him a few days later, outside of the normal meal time.

He opened his palm to reveal a paperclip.

“We don’t have much time,” he said, tilting his neck. “He’ll know I opened your door, and he’ll know once it’s off.” Hero set to work.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I- he- he made me have sex with him again.”

“What?” Hero paused.

“Just work!” he snapped.

“What about my com?”

“What about it?” hissed Laith.

“Supervillain can’t have it.”

“It’s in the office, but-” the collar sparked, and he gasped in pain.

“Sorry!”

“-I don’t know if I have two teleports in me,” finished Laith.

“Okay, fine, we’ll just tell the team when we get back.”

“Wha- ‘we’?!”

The collar popped off, but they didn’t have time to celebrate before the hall lit up in floodlights.

Shit.

“Uh oh,” came a voice over the loudspeakers, “did my little doggy forget his collar?”

Laith whimpered.

“Laith! Focus!” said Hero, grabbing his arm.

“There’s- there’s nowhere to go! I can’t-” Laith gasped for air, hyperventilating.

Hero searched around. Surely there was something the floodlights couldn’t reach. But the whole place must have been designed around it, because- 

The collar lay on the floor, casting a tiny shadow.

“Laith, look!” His face lit up, as if he was seeing water in the desert. Laith grabbed Hero’s hand and reached into the sliver of shade.

A coldness overcame them both, and Hero immediately felt nauseous.

They landed in an office, clearly Supervillain’s. Laith snatched something small and white off the desk, and they were off again.

They wound up in the middle of an empty lot of overgrown grass.

“I thought,” panted Hero, doubling over. “You didn’t have two. Guess you’re still an adrenaline junkie.” he joked.

It was right up his alley, but Laith didn’t laugh.

Hero glanced over. Laith lay sprawled out, face down on the dry grass.

“Oh god,” Hero turned him over, and checked his pulse.

He was alive, barely, and still clutching the com.

Hero pulled Laith towards him, cradling him close. He put the com back in his ear. Thank god for secondary trackers.

“I need medical!” he shouted into the com.

“Hero?! You’re alive? Wha-” God, he’d never been so happy to hear that voice.

“Just get here, fast!”

Laith whimpered in his lap, twitching. His head lolled, and Hero shifted to support his neck.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy. I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

Bonus: Laith, because I can't stop thinking about him

#yeah sorry i only named Laith cause hes my favorite here. im lazy and its past midnight #my writing #whump #superhero whump #hero whump #supervillain whumper #villain whumpee #pet whump #if u squint #Old Friends

[enmuswife3]

Maybe its a Blessing in Disguise

Jacob x werewolf!Reader

reader moves from LA to Forks in order to reconnect with her old family friend Bella Swan and meets Jacob.

Reader is slightly Afro Latina coded I haven’t rlly said anything about reader’s hair tho so maybe just Latina, also speaks Spanish and incorporates it into random sentences but only if she knows the other person can understand it, reader wears a black juicy tracksuit and chunky sandals bc I said so Jacob does not know that reader is a werewolf reader and is in a pack ill add more as i write

Bruh he is SO FOINE GRRRR BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF

I yawned as I drove to my best friend's house after hearing that her pasty-faced boyfriend had broken up with her. “Bells! vine tan pronto como pude!” I said barging into the house and the young girl's room. I walked in and saw her crying in her bed “Okay pause those sheets are so tacky what the hell” I said carefully sitting down and taking her in my arms letting her cry into my velvety tracksuit. “let's get you better amor” i said kissing the top of her head and helping her stand up. I got her into the shower, washed her face, and put her back to bed as it was already 10:00.

I woke her up bright and early and got her into the bathroom to do something to her face and hair you know to bring that Arizonan girl out and honestly, it worked wonderfully. I put on another tracksuit this time it's dark green and I give Bella a matching one “Tan guapa” I complimented her smiling softly seeing her face turn red alright let go I say grabbing my keys “Wait you driving?” Bella asked “yea silly it’s a sports car though so prepárate,” I said stepping outside and unlocking my Dodge Charger and turning it on making the engine rev like crazy. I smiled as I headed towards the school that I recently enrolled in.

I pulled into a parking spot seeing all the different people including some of Bella’s acquaintances that she showed me a picture of. I stepped out of the car looking around seeing her pasty faced ex-boyfriend through my shades looking right at me, I smirked slightly walking over and opening the door for Bella and helping her out. I chuckled seeing her stumble due to me going 30 over the speed limit. She put her arm around my waist covering up my back tattoo i did the same as we walked through the parking lot ignoring the stares. Thankfully i was able to get all of my classes with Bella so we walked to class together.

Time Skip

It was the end of the day and me and Bella were walking outside and to my car just to find a bunch of random people standing around my car “watch this” i snickered as i pressed the automatic on button and watched as the people jumped and yelped by me turning on the car. I open the door and get in and so does Bella i peered into the mirror seeing the Cullens staring at my car “they stare a whole lot” i said raising my eyebrows. I drove out of the parking lot “ hey can you take me to this place my friend wants to hang out” Bella said “sure”.

We made it to this guy named Billy’s house and when you pulled up several shirtless dudes where sitting on the front deck. I got out and immediately smelled like there were other werewolves and i guess they could smell me too because they immediately turned in my direction. “Guys this is y/n l/n” Bella hesitantly introduced me i smiled politely at the boys “well I’m Seth that’s Quill, Embry, and Jacob” the boy said smiling sweetly “n/n wanna come with us to La Push there’s gonna be a bonfire” Bella asked “uh sure i wont stay too long though a bitch needs her sleep or we wont make it to school tomorrow” i laughed “ well I’m gonna go home i need a shower” i sighed pressing the automatic button on my car key turning up the car making the engine rev. I walked to my car “you stayin’ right?” I looked at Bella as i opened the door, she nodded a few times and i got in my car and sped off.

Bella’s POV

I watched as my friend sped away in her car “soo where’s she from? I know she wasn’t born here” Quil asked “Yeah she’s from LA” I responded as I sat down next to Jacob “What’s LA?” Jacob asked with a raised eyebrow “LA stands for Los Angeles it's in California” I said leaning back and pulling out my phone to text y/n the time she can come back and where. Jacob leaned his head to the side to see what I was doing “So this y/n girl…is she single?” Quil asked as he leaned back in his chair licking his lips “Surprisingly yes” I said “Honestly I don’t even know how or why she’s single I guess the boys in California didn’t catch her attention” I shrugged.

“Are you all ready? And do we have everything we need?” Jacob called out as he finished loading the supplies into his truck “Yeah we’re ready” I called out getting into the passenger seat and the other boys got into the back seat. I dialed y/n’s number and waited for her to answer” Hello?” She answered, “Hey we’re on our way to La Push where are you now?” “Umm I’m at a shopping center right now getting Auntie Annie’s” she answered “Oooh get me a pretzel please,” I asked “ está bien I’m about to leave now no estoy muy lejos” “Okay bye” “Peace”. I hung up the phone “Was she speaking Spanish?” Seth asked “yea it’s her first language” I said looking out the window as the trees turned into cliffs and this cliff turned into the beach. It was slightly crowded but I wasn’t bothered by that. The bonfire was set up and I was waiting patiently for y/n to come with my delicious pretzel.

Y/n’s POV

I pulled into the parking lot and looked around before I got out holding Bella’s pretzel and a lemonade in my other hand I walked towards the bonfire which was actual a long distance away so I started sipping on my frosted lemonade. The soft light of the fire grew larger as I neared I scanned for a spot to sit at and slightly tensed up seeing that the only spot open was by that Jacob guy. No I don’t hate him or anything he’s actually very attractive in fact he looks like he was sculpted by a god or something. And ohh don’t get me started on his eyes and the way his brows furrow- that’s enough rambling for one day I thought to myself. I saw Bella get up happily scurrying towards me grabbing the pretzel and taking a bite happily. “Oh um there aren’t anymore seats by me so I guess you’ll have to sit with Jay” Bella said looking around “oh okay” I said sitting down on the bench by the young boy.

Time Skip

Everyone was laughing and enjoying their time Jacob and I grew silent but I could feel his eyes on me. Bella and the 3 other boys were talking and laughing but I kind of just zoned them out by playing a random game on my phone. “So y/n how’s the weather there in California?” Jacob asked as he sat up straight “extremely hot I can say that” I laughed breathlessly “so do you like it over here more?” I grew silent for a moment looking back at Bella and the others joking around “I guess you could say that though I do miss my family” I smiled softly looking back at Jacob. I could see a slight hint of red in his cheeks but I dared not to say anything about it. “Alright y/n I’m ready to go” Bella said getting up “okay” I said getting up “it was nice meeting you all” I said softly walking over to Bella and turning around. “Yeah it was nice meeting you” Seth said as the others nodded in agreement I softly smiled and turned around to see Bella already walking off I smacked my lips jogging after her.

We had finally made it to my car and we got in and I drove away “soo Jacob huh~ think he’s cute?” Bella asked teasingly and laughed when I blushed “I think he’s really into you y/n~” she laughed “I should set you two up” I laughed nervously “I mean I wouldn’t be complaining he is cute” I said as I pulled into the driveway and got out the car. “Oh by the way me and Edward are okay now I guess but I don’t know if we’re back together yet, also prom is Friday night and I think you should come” Bella said as we walked into the house “okay but I don’t trust that pasty-face bastard, and yea we can go to prom can you come dress shopping with me?” I asked “sure”.

“Alright goodnight Bells” I yawned as I walked to my room, I laid down and called my mom as it was only 8:00 where she was “hi momma” I spoke sweetly “hi my sweet baby how is mare you doing?” My mother cooed “ah I’m alright schools pretty nice here and I love the weather” I gushed “that’s good sweetie now have you met anyone? Any boys?” My mother asked slyly. I chuckled nervously “there’s this one boy but when I first met him I got a whiff of that wet dog smell so I think he’s one of us including his friends or should I say pack” I whispered “another pack? Well I’m not surprised. You haven’t come across any of those cold ones have you?” She asked “unfortunately yes, I have and I think Bella has a relation shit with one of them” I sighed “god well if you need any help let out a howl and your siblings will be there in a bling of an eye” “I will momma, I’m going to go to sleep now okay?” “Alright love call me if you need anything alright? Bye now” I hung up the phone and placed it on my nightstand and rolled over to look at the ceiling. I waited for a few minutes just in case then I softly closed my eyes.

I was woken up by my 5:00 alarm and got up with a groan. I quickly got ready and headed downstairs just to see Bella introducing her so called “boyfriend” to Charlie “good morning Charlie!” I say walking up to the chief giving him a big hug somehow he was still taller than me “mornin’” he huffed “y/n this is Edward” Bella said “hi.uh nice to meet you” I said looking him up and down questionably. “It’s nice to meet you too I’m about to take Bella to play baseball ball with my family would you like to join?” The pale-faced man smiled “I’ll go if Bells wants me to” I stated as I turned to the girl raising my eyebrow. “Yeah you should come but take your car so I can have a ride home,” Bella said smiling “Okay. “

“Y/n, I trust that you’ll keep Bella safe and not let any harm come to her correct?” Charlie asked sternly but I could see right through him “She won’t get into any type of danger as long as I’m breathing” I said with a glint in my eyes. “She’s safe with me,” I said holding up my hands and retracted my claws smiling. Charlie nodded and walked off to get ready for work Bella and her boyfriend were already outside I sipped on some water and pressed the button to turn on my car “I’ll follow you guys or you could just tell me the location so I can speed how I’d like to” I said looking at Edward “I think it’d be best if you followed since I don’t know where we’re going” “erm okay I guess” I shrugged walking to my car.

The car ride there was pretty long but I understand what Edward meant by him not even knowing where we were going himself because there were three other cars in front of him at last we finally made it to the destination three women got out of one car and three men came out of theirs I opened my door and got out and walked next to Bella and rested my elbow on her shoulder. “Y/n this is Alice, Rosalie, and Esme” “Hi y/n I’ve seen you in the halls but I was too nervous to come up to you,” Alice said chuckling nervously “I know right? When I first met her she looked like she wanted to fight me but she’s a sweetheart really” Bella smiled “Looks like it” Rosalie said eyeing me up and down. I heard a twig snap and immediately turned my head to see who it was kind of surprising the three women.

After I was introduced to everyone the game had finally begun and I could tell that they were very serious about the game. I stood at one of the bases and looked to my side seeing Bella at another one then all of a sudden she caught the ball and threw it at me and I could see in the corner of my eye Rosalie running towards me using her super speed I caught the ball just before she could slide to the base “you're out.” I said looking down at her. She stood up immediately and let out a growl as if she were trying to scare me I raised my eyebrow tilted my head and watched her stomp away.

“Stop!” Alice yelled everyone walked to her “Someone’s coming”

Yall i was so excited writing this yall do not knowww anywho not rlly proof read i just used Grammarly to correct sum stuff so if it sounds weird it’s that😓🙏

#twilight #jacob black x reader #jacob black #bella swan #esme cullen #alice cullen #rosalie cullen #the cullens #billy black #jasper cullen #edward cullen #emmet cullen

[teeth-farie]

You like to think you’ve been in your fair share of funny situations, but this is something else. You’d consider yourself of noble heritage, even if you weren’t close to inheriting any power yourself, but it seemed to be enough for dumb criminals to try and snag you for ransom.

“You’ve done well.” You say, standing in the doorway of your hotel room. Your new self appointed bodyguard grins dumbly at the praise. Maybe he was beneficial; even if he practically chased you down at the saloon you’d been at.

“All in a day's work! And, y’know, maybe you need some more guarding inside the room too?” Vash looks hopeful, and you would have been blind not to notice his little crush earlier. And, well, he was successful in protecting you, and it’s not like he’s bad looking either, he was actually kind of cute…

“You know what? I think I do, come along now.”

He nearly jumps in excitement and surprise, hurriedly trailing after you. He reminds you of a dog in a way, obedient and eager to please. “I never did catch your name, either.” You say, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“Well! It’s actually a little complicated—oh, I always get a bit embarrassed when someone asks,”

“That’s quite alright, I think I have a name in mind for you anyway, actually.”

“Really?” His eyes are bright and nearly sparkling, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah,” you smile, “how about ‘Spot’? Sounds fitting for you, I think.”

Vash goes red in the face, eagerly nodding his head. “Y-yes, ma’am! That sounds amazing, ma’am!”

“Then why don’t you come over here so I can reward your brave work, spot?”

It takes a second for it to register in his brain, but as soon as it does he’s answering with a bark and an enthusiastic scramble to your feet.

“Come on, up here,” you pat your lap. Vash looks at your thighs nervously, but settles nonetheless. “I’ve never sat on someone’s lap before,” he laughs, the sound melting into a whimper when you place your hands on his thigh and stomach.

“Then let me make this first especially nice for you.”

Your hands reach to his belt and he stops you. “I,”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m, uh, I’m not the prettiest under the clothes, haha..” he answers sheepishly, his downturned eyes now showing…shame.

“I bet your body is just as cute as your face, spot. But if you don’t wanna take anything off, I can just work around that.”

He bites his lip, chewing on the skin as he thinks. He imagined that maybe he’d be the one pleasing you, but the other way around, that’s something new. “How?” He asks softly.

“Well…” you start, moving your hands from his belt to his crotch, cupping him there. “I can rub you through your pants like this, how about that?”

Vash gasps, hips rutting into your palm. “G-good!” He yelps in response, his clothed cock chubbing up at the attention.

“Good.” You purr, gently circling your hand over his growing bulge, running your fingers over the outline it makes in his pants. He makes a pitiful little sound, like a cross between a whimper and a cry. Carefully, he holds onto your shoulders.

“Doesn’t that feel good, spot?” You rub a little firmer, pressing your fingers to where his sac would be.

“Woof!” He answers, grinding against your hand. It’s a little awkward, something he’s never done before, but the outcome just feels so good. Even through his thick pants he’s starting to drip and twitch. “Good puppy, that’s it, take your reward.” You coax him on, encouraging his shakey little thrusts against your hand.

“K-kiss?” He pants out, tongue peeking from his lips. You grab the back of his head and pull him forward, your mouth colliding with his. Vash is sloppily and uncoordinated and something tells you that despite his flirtations, he must not be kissed very often. He makes a cacophony of sounds that you swallow eagerly, rolling your palm and fingers with the movements of his hips.

Vash grapples at your shirt, the fabric bunching under his fingers. He can feel your tongue press against his, he can feel you licking over his teeth, and his eyes roll back into his head when you force his mouth open and spit down his throat.

“Maaaasterrrr,” he gurgles, nearly bouncing in your lap. “Master, huh? You’re really an obedient puppy, aren’t you?” You coo, nipping at his jaw. Vash shivers, tongue lolling from his mouth with a wet moan when you squeeze his aching bulge.

“Come on, spot, are you close? I bet you’re real pent up, huh? No one’s given you the touch you needed, have they? Poor baby. Go on and cum for your master.”

You have the privilege of watching his face screw as he chases his high, his jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed, hips rutting into your hand almost like he was feral. He’s whimpering, slurring out your name- and he screams a silent scream when he finally climaxes, his toes curling in his boots and his fingers digging into your shoulders.

“There we go,” you massage him through his orgasm, feeling the fabric grow warm and wet under your skin. “That’s it, what a good boy.” You kiss him sweetly, moving to pepper them across his cheeks. Vash croons softly, his legs trembling. “I-I think,” he begins, swallowing thickly. His face and neck are sweaty and flushed red and you wonder how far down it spreads.

“I think I’m ready to take my clothes off now, hehe..”

“Atta boy, spot.”

#vash the stampede #spicy #sub vash #dom reader #new babygirl just dropped #I’m totally normal about him #also yeah this was inspired by that one ep