Request: The reader is a K9 officer and helps with her dog in a case. The dog decides Deacon is his new dad and gets them together.
I’ve always trusted dogs more than people.
People lie. They posture. They say one thing and mean another.
Dogs are loyal and don't want anything from you but love.
That’s how I found myself standing in the middle of a freezing warehouse at half three in the morning, my gloved hand resting on the broad, steady neck of my German Shepherd, Atlas, while the rest of the team argued about entry points and perimeter coverage.
Atlas leaned lightly into my leg, alert but calm, his ears pricked towards the far end of the building.
“I’ve got something,” I murmured.
Across the loading bay, Detective Deacon Kay glanced up.
He had that permanently serious look about him. The sort that made junior officers straighten their backs and criminals rethink their life choices. Salt and pepper hair, trimmed beard, eyes that seemed to catalogue everything. He wasn’t loud. Didn’t need to be.
“What’s he telling you?” Deacon asked, stepping closer.
“Fresh scent. Male. Nervous. He’s been moving about.”
Deacon gave a short nod. “All right. We’ll do it your way.”
My way.
It shouldn’t have made my stomach flip, but it did.
I unclipped Atlas’s lead. “Seek.”
He moved like a shadow silent, fluid, purposeful. I followed, my torch beam steady, every muscle in my body tuned to him.
We found the suspect crouched behind a stack of crates, trying and failing to make himself invisible. Atlas cornered him with a deep warning bark that echoed through the cavernous space.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned the man, hand resting lightly on Atlas’s harness.
Deacon arrived seconds later, weapon drawn but steady. The suspect surrendered quickly. Smart choice.
As the cuffs clicked into place, Deacon glanced between me and Atlas.
“Good work,” he said quietly.
Atlas wagged his tail once and then to my complete and utter betrayal trotted straight past me and planted himself at Deacon’s boots.
“Oh, don’t you dare,” I muttered.
Atlas sat. Then leaned. Hard.
Deacon looked down, faint amusement touching his features. “I think he likes me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone,” I grumbled. “He tolerates most people.”
Atlas rolled onto his back.
Traitor.
Deacon crouched, cautiously scratching behind Atlas’s ear. “You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
Atlas made the most ridiculous contented sound I’d ever heard.
I folded my arms. “Brilliant. Three years of training and he falls in love in under thirty seconds.”
Deacon’s lips twitched. “Can’t blame him.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
Over the next few weeks, we worked the case together a string of warehouse burglaries tied to something much bigger than petty theft. Deacon led the investigation. I handled K9 support.
Atlas handled matchmaking, apparently.
Every briefing, he’d position himself as close to Deacon as physically possible. If Deacon shifted his chair, Atlas shifted with him. If Deacon stood, Atlas stood.
“He does realise I’m his handler?” I whispered one afternoon as Atlas abandoned me yet again to sit at Deacon’s side during a planning session.
Deacon didn’t look up from the file he was reading. “He’s just got good taste.”
“Arrogant, are we?”
He glanced at me then, eyes warm despite his straight face. “Confident.”
Atlas nudged Deacon’s hand with his nose.
I sighed dramatically. “I’m being replaced.”
Deacon’s voice softened. “I’m not trying to steal your partner.”
“It’s fine,” I replied lightly. “He’s clearly made his choice.”
Atlas huffed at me as if offended.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re the one cuddling him during debriefs.”
Deacon chuckled under his breath, and the sound did something strange to my ribs.
The next time Atlas picked up a trail from a discarded glove near one of the warehouses. The scent led us through back alleys and across a car park before stopping at an abandoned terrace house.
“It’s active,” I murmured, watching Atlas’s posture change rigid, focused.
Deacon signalled for backup but didn’t wait for it.
“We’re not going in alone,” I warned.
“We’re not,” he said, meeting my eyes. “We’re going in with him.”
He meant Atlas.
And, apparently, me.
Inside, it was dark and damp. Floorboards creaked under our boots.
Atlas’s low growl warned us seconds before a figure bolted from the kitchen.
“Stop!” Deacon shouted.
The suspect ran for the back door.
“Apprehend!”
Atlas launched forward controlled, precise. He took the man down cleanly, holding until Deacon reached them.
It should’ve ended there.
But the second suspect appeared from the hallway, swinging a metal bar.
I didn’t think. I moved.
“Deacon!”
He turned just in time to deflect the blow, but not enough. The bar clipped his shoulder. He staggered.
Atlas reacted instantly, releasing the first suspect and placing himself squarely between Deacon and the attacker, barking ferociously.
I stepped in, adrenaline surging, tackling the man hard enough to send us both crashing to the floor.
Backup arrived in a flurry of noise and flashing lights.
When it was over, my hands were shaking.
Deacon was sitting on the front steps, paramedics checking his shoulder. Atlas was glued to his side, whining softly.
I approached slowly. “You all right?”
“Bruised pride,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Atlas pressed his head into Deacon’s chest.
“You’d think he was the one who got hit,” I muttered.
Deacon’s gaze lifted to mine. “He stayed. Protected me.”
“He’s trained to.”
“Still,” Deacon said quietly, “I’m grateful.”
Something unspoken passed between us.
Atlas leaned across and nudged my hand then Deacon’s as if physically connecting us.
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “He’s orchestrating this.”
Deacon laughed softly, then winced at the movement. “You might be right.”
After that night, things shifted.
Deacon started bringing coffee to K9 training sessions.
Atlas started sulking whenever Deacon left.
I started noticing the way Deacon looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
One evening, after a long day of paperwork and follow-ups, I found Deacon outside the station, crouched beside Atlas.
“You do realise,” I said, approaching them, “that he has me wrapped round his paw.”
Deacon glanced up. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Means he’s chosen well.”
My breath caught slightly. “Chosen what?”
Deacon stood slowly. He was close. Close enough that I could see the faint scar along his jaw, the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
“Family,” he said simply.
Atlas wagged so hard his entire back end wobbled.
I stared at my dog. “You absolute menace.”
Deacon’s expression turned serious. “Look… I don’t rush things. And I don’t blur lines at work. But...”
Atlas barked once, sharply.
We both jumped.
“He’s impatient,” I muttered.
Deacon’s mouth curved. “So am I, actually.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “Deacon…”
He hesitated only a second. “Would you consider dinner? Somewhere that doesn’t involve suspects or warehouses?”
Atlas sat between us, looking impossibly pleased with himself.
I crossed my arms, pretending to deliberate. “I suppose. If only to stop him from sabotaging future operations.”
Deacon’s smile was devastating. “I’ll take it.”
Atlas shoved his head into Deacon’s hand triumphantly.
“Oh, don’t encourage him,” I said, but I was smiling too.
Dinner turned into another dinner.
Then walks with Atlas that were definitely not accidental.
Atlas insisted on sitting between us at first. Then gradually, he shifted closer to Deacon.
“Unbelievable,” I said one afternoon in the park as Atlas leaned fully against Deacon’s leg. “He used to do that with me.”
“He still does,” Deacon replied gently.
He reached for my hand.
Atlas glanced up, satisfied, and rested his head on both our knees.
It felt… right.
Steady.
Safe.
Months later, the case was wrapped, convictions secured. Life settled into something almost peaceful.
One Sunday morning, I woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of Atlas’s nails clicking excitedly on the kitchen tiles.
I padded downstairs to find Deacon at the stove, Atlas sitting proudly beside him like a supervisor.
“You’re in my kitchen,” I observed.
“Technically,” Deacon replied without turning around, “I stayed over. So it’s our kitchen this morning.”
Atlas wagged furiously.
I leaned against the doorway, watching them.
“You realise,” I said softly, “that he chose you.”
Deacon turned then, spatula in hand. “No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“He chose us,” he corrected.
Atlas trotted over and pressed against both our legs at once.
I crouched, wrapping my arms around my ridiculous, brilliant dog.
Hey, I love your SWAT work I was hoping you could maybe do a Smutty Deacon one. I was thinking you would be his girlfriend and you have been feeling a little neglected and so he shows you a good time. Thank you 💛
Pairing: Deacon Kay x Reader
Warnings: smutty, smut, smut! 🥵
I do apologize for the length of this, tbh this request got me out of my little slump. Hope you enjoy it and thank you for requesting 🩷
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I have had enough.
It’s only 10am, four hours into my twelve hour shift and I have reached the edge. These past couple weeks have slowly been getting to me work wise as well as relationship wise. The door to the patrol car slammed shut behind me as I holstered my weapon.
“I’m actually impressed at how fast you chased after him.” Jim fist bumped my shoulder, his face all flushed and sweaty from the foot chase we both did to capture the latest suspect in a kidnapping case. “I tend to run faster when I’m pissed off, Street.” I dryly replied, sidestepping him to head into the suspect’s house to start collecting evidence.
My heavy boots echoed on the hardwood flooring upon entry which drew the attention of both Nolan and Lucy who were already arching through the main room of the house. “Uh-oh, she’s got that look on her face.” Lucy cheekily pointed out to Nolan who genuinely looked concerned.
”Everything alright? You didn’t damage anything did you?” He wasted no time in checking on my physical wellbeing while Lucy’s smile only grew. “Trust me, she’s fine. She’s just pent up.”
Lucy is the only one aware of mine and Deac’s relationship and she never misses the opportunity to tease me about it. She also knows that since the work days began getting heavier and the cases kept popping up, I haven’t had quality time with the sergeant who apparently is the most popular and in demand as of late.
Meaning, we haven’t had sex for almost three weeks.
At first I understood the demands of the job, obviously because I’m also an officer but then he started staying late at HQ to finish up his reports. By week two I tried dropping hints to him by wearing minimal clothing to bed, wearing sexy lacy numbers under my robe which I knew normally has him drooling over me but either he hadn’t noticed or he chose not to notice. Which brings us here to week number three. We have resorted to the simple hello and goodbye kisses, more like pecks I should say.
“Lucy I will hurt you, please hush.” She was about to respond but closed her mouth shut when Deacon came in through the door. I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was there, my body always knows when he’s near.
“Officer Y/N, a word please.” Deacon’s warm hand found my shoulder, gently guiding me to the kitchen away from the others. He didn’t waste time pulling me in for a hug and a quick kiss at my temple. His lips were warm against my skin, his cologne invaded my senses as his strong arms wrapped around me caging me against his broad tac-gear covered chest.
I quickly pushed him off of me, possibly a little too harsh but I’m very much still pissed off at him and at this point, I don’t give a damn to mask my annoyance. His brows furrowed as he stared down at me, his hands up in the surrender position. “Okay, what’s wrong? All day you’ve been icing me out.”
Scoffing, I attempted to walk off on him but he held on to my wrist. His grip was firm, keeping me firmly rooted in place. His brown eyes locked with mine, searching to find out the reason behind my attitude. “Two things. One, you haven’t called me by rank in years so I know that you’re pissed. Two, what did I do?”
“More like what haven’t you done.” I muttered as he released his hold on me. Deacon gently pulled me back into his arms, holding onto my waist. “Talk to me.” He practically purred the words to me in his deep voice. His tone immediately sent ripples down my spine while he traced light circles on my hips.
“Do you know that this is the most contact we’ve had in almost a month?” He sighed, “For weeks I’ve dealt with you putting the job above us, tried reasoning with myself that you’re simply swamped with work but at the same time Deac, it’s like you barely acknowledged me. Heck you’ve spoken to me more on the job than in our own bed.” My revelation slapped him in the face, his eyes closed briefly and his hands dropped to his sides.
“Shit, Y/N I’m sorry. I know work has been a lot lately with Hondo gone, I didn’t mean to completely ignore you, us, like that.” He raked his hand through his grey hair, the wheels full on spinning in his head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” A voice cut through comms, slicing through our conversation like a knife. While he responded I took my opportunity to slip through the doorway.
I returned to the now trio, Lucy, Nolan and Tim, to finish processing the scene. Lucy shot me a look and I brushed it off. I rolled my shoulders and got back to work. The rest of the day practically flew by. I avoided Deacon, still upset of course. He tried partnering up with me but thankfully Lucy could read the room and willingly rode with him on the next few calls.
It’s currently well past eight o’clock, Deacon is still at HQ, no surprise there. I just got out of a much needed shower, my wet hair clinging to my damp skin. Pillowtalk by Zayn played in the background while I did my nighttime routine, movement in the mirror caught my eye. Deacon. He was no longer in his tactical gear, he swapped the all black uniform for his blue jeans and simple white shirt.
No words were spoken as he closed the distance between us. His lips caressed my skin as he peppered my exposed shoulder with kisses. “I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I miss you.” Kiss. He pulled me flush against him as he kissed his way up the column of my neck, his beard deliciously rubbing against my sensitive skin.
“Let me make it up to you.” His hands roamed my towel clad body, cupping my breasts in his large hands. Like a live wire, my body immediately responded to his touch, my nipples hardened beneath the cotton as he continued toying with them through the fabric. My eyes fluttered shut as his hand dipped lower, slipping through the opening at my waist.
He was taking his time to tease me and I hated it. I wanted him now. Scratch that, I need him now. Deacon glided his fingers between my lower lips, a pleased hum vibrated my back against his chest. My thighs involuntarily parted some more, giving him access to my already drenched pussy. I didn’t register my towel being undone until the cold air hit my nipples.
In the mirror, the sight of him devouring me only made me hotter. Deacon was latched onto the sensitive junction of my neck and shoulder, sucking at the flesh. One hand was toying with my breasts while the other was cupping my cunt, his fingers circling my clit. Tilting my head back, I gave him access to kiss me and he didn’t hesitate. Deacon’s lips melted with mine in a kiss that burned with hunger, desire, passion and part of regret. I gasped feeling him slip one of his fingers into me, he pumped slowly, opening me up before adding another digit.
With one more kiss, he removed his fingers and spun me around in his arms. Deacon hoisted me up on the countertop before stripping out of his shirt and jeans. His pupils were blown wide and locked on me, like a predator watching his prey. Spreading my legs open I pulled him down towards me and crashed our lips together. It’s a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue. He pulled my hips to the very edge of the counter, pressing his hard cock against me.
He stopped me before I could reach for him, dropping to his knees, holding my thighs spread wide open. “Ohhhh.” His warm tongue flattened against my folds as he began devouring me like I was his last meal. “Eyes on me sweetheart.” Listening to his command I angled myself to see him sucking and lapping up my juices. My hips bucked against his tongue, hands immediately holding his head in place. Obscene moans filled the bathroom as he slipped his fingers back into me.
“Deac!” He sped up his antics, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of a much needed orgasm. The coil wound tighter with each stroke of his fingers before snapping when he curled them, dragging against that sweet spot. I came with a cry of his name, flooding his tongue with my juices. “So sweet, baby.” He stood to his full height and removed his boxers, freeing his erect cock that leaked precum at the red tip.
I licked my lips wanting to taste him. “As much as I’d love to have you suck my cock sweetheart, I need to be inside of you.” Deacon coated himself in my wetness before burning his cock into me in one swift stroke, jerking me on the counter. “Fuck baby, you’re tight.” My head dropped against the mirror as he began rocking his hips into mine. His strong hands held my legs open as his pace picked up.
The sound of skin hitting skin filled the bathroom mixing in with the song still playing in the background. Deacon leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss, muffling my moans as he pounded into me relentlessly. The head of his cock was hitting all the right spots, my vision hazed as he fucked me nice and deep. My fingers found my clit, rubbing the sensitive nub to his pace. I could feel my second orgasm building and if he keeps fucking me like this I will cum soon.
A slick coat of sweat glistened on our bodies, thank goodness for the physical demands of our job. Deacon’s physique and stamina were top tier. He pushed my legs further up, tilting my hips backwards. “Yes, please don’t stop. Right there.” At this angle he had me damn near seeing stars. His grunts filled my ears as his thrusts started to become sloppy. He’s close.
The intense pressure built up inside my lower stomach, “Cum for me sweetheart.” That was all it took for me to shatter completely. My legs trembled from the intensity of the orgasm. His hips stilled, buried deep as his warm cum filled me up. Our chests rose and fell as we tried to regain our breath.
“I love you, sweetheart and again I’m sorry for pushing you away. That was not my intention but it still happened and I won’t let it happen again.” I pulled him in for a much tamer kiss and he sighed against my lips. “Apology accepted, forgiveness pending sergeant.”
“You sure you want to use rank right now?” He shifted to remind me that he’s still buried in me and he’s still hard. “Yes, sergeant.” I purred, wanting more of him.
“Turn around.”
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