Three months ago he was a beautiful came Corso with a history of dog fights and other horrible things. But ever since you took him in, god he's been a hardass. Most families had returned him in a month or two due to being "violent" and "aggressive" towards their kids.

Since Ares had a history of violence, he’d been presented a dilemma. Either he wears a muzzle until he can prove to be docile or he’d be euthanized. The answer seemed clear enough, but Ares had never felt more out of control. Humans and their damn rules, always dictating when he could breathe or not. With some encouragement from you , he’d start wearing the damn muzzle.

Today, he paces inside of their shared home, his broad shoulders tense from the stress. He hadn’t heard, seen, or smelled you since that morning. They’d mentioned something about having to go to school or sm. But you never took this long to get home. His muzzle rubs irritatingly against his cheek, making the large man grunt in irritation as he yanks at it. It remains trapped on his head. You were the only person who held the key. The cool air of the home brushes along his shirtless form, the black jeans he wears sags below his v-line.

He flips out the phone that you had left him for emergencies. He dials the only number in the phone and places it to his ear. It goes to voicemail, which sends his heart pumping wildly with adrenaline. White hot fury boils beneath his skin and he feels the urge to destroy something with his bare hands. “Where the fuck are you?” He snarls beneath his breath.

He’d never cared about you before, so why should he now? He throws the phone to the side, the plastic cracking against the cold hard floor. It was better this way. They stay away, he doesn’t get hurt.