Kat Writes

thinking about how you can’t even go to the grocery store without pope following you !!! he just loves to watch you, gotta make sure his girl is safe too <3

he can’t help it when he grabs you, hand around your mouth when you’re walking back to your car, taking you into the alley to pull your skirt up—fucking you fast and hard. “fuck, hi baby.”

omg this is tasty i’m eating u….also hi

cw cnc dubious content (?) restraining n daddy kink

it’d started out small too, like he followed you to work bc you told him some guy was harassing you. made sure you got home safe, to and fro to your college classes and so on until you were certain that the guy was leaving you alone.

and he wanted to stop after that, he really did. but it just became part of his daily routine. following you a few cars behind with your location locked in his phone. to the most mundane places too. to your parents house, friends, school, the store. he couldn’t help it. he just wanted you to be safe, baby.

cw: somno, implied consent, poor andy missed his girl so much in prison

poor baby who spent so long behind bars couldn’t believe it when he finally came home to you! warm in his bed back in your shared apartment, sleepy, soft. the covers pulled back, pretty lace underwear on show like you’d been waiting for him!!

his so perceptive — of course, spies the empty water bottle on the side, sees the little wet patch on the front of your panties .. why not wake you up with a surprise!! but first — he needs to get his fix

biiig warm hands tug you by the ankles to the edge of your bed, hazel eyes tracking your sleepy movements — you almost woke up — but you nuzzled back into the sheets like you’d knew it was just him

he wastes no time licking a languid stripe up the centre of your panties, his free hand not tugging your thighs apart for more access now unbuckling his own jeans, slowly pumping his cock, straining with the rush of blood he hasn’t felt since he was put away

he breathes out soft against the inside of your thigh, one knee hitting the floor as he pulls your thighs apart, “-m’ sorry baby” he whispers against the plush skin of your thigh as thick fingers nudge their way beneath the fabric — wasting no time before shoving them deep inside your weepy little pussy

his teeth bare, tugging the sheer fabric to the side so his pink tongue can find your pretty little nub!! poor baby gets to lost in it as he suckles on your buzzing little clit, hardly registering the way you wake up in panic

“— wh-whaa?” you mutter all sleepy, he just groans, hang falling off his dick to grab at your other thigh, pulling you down against his mouth as his eyes roll back, the taste of you still just as sweet — maybe sweeter than he remembers you three years ago

“—andy?” your warbly little voice mutters out, he just scoffs against your clit, tongue licking one more slow stripe up through your drooling folds, “—knew you’d still recognise daddy” he whispers

you’re just so soft and warm he couldn’t help himself!! one biiiig hand pushing yours away as you try and push him off — just to talk about what is going on — but he’s lost, his shorn curls now scratching the insides of your thighs as he eats you like you were the one thing that got him through prison

usually he’d clog your mouth with his thick fingers — would wanna watch you choke and your eyes tear up

It’s not a LOT, but it’s there lol but also it’s not NOTHING, it’s a bit of exposition on why I think Park would be an amazing Dom to Dennis even while transitioning him to someone else. In this AU, anyways.

Dennis was a cute sub. He wasn’t anything like Park’s other subs though.

Kasey was home with them tonight. She was a slave sub. She aired more towards a service made than anything, and she had a high stress job to go back to when she got what she needed.

She was also enamored with puppy Dennis. It had led to a few punishments even, when she would get distracted with the puppy instead of doing her chores. She was being very good tonight, but Park didn’t really have much of a list for her to attend to today. She had fed the puppy, made sure to take him potty, all those things that she requested to be in charge of simply because she liked to take care of the pup.

She also liked taking care of the dogs, but that was… it was never like this. Dennis was, primarily, a non-sexual submissive. He wasn’t ace, or uninterested, he just didn’t think about that sort of thing in headspace.

So, cleaning up the puppy was a bit different than cleaning up the dogs, and she felt more like she was taking care of a spoiled pet, than getting molested by her owners aggressive pets. She liked both, but taking care of Denny was different.

Squeak! Squeak squeak!

Park looked over at Dennis, squished between Park’s abdomen and the back of the couch. Park was laying on his back with the puppy at his side, and a collared slave on the floor, Kasey at the ready in case Park needed her for something.

Dennis had a toy in his mouth, big eyes focused on the TV as he occasionally chewed, making the toy squeak. His ear headband was a little crooked, but that was because they had been playing a bit rough earlier, tug-of-war. Park took his hand from where he’d been holding it to Dennis’s soft side, and reached up to fix his ears under the guise of head scritches. Dennis eagerly wriggled in place, and squeaked his toy again.

It was a blueberry toy with a squeaker in the middle. Park didn’t mind it much, and the boy didn’t go crazy with it like Park’s mutts would have, so it wasn’t a bother to let him keep it there.

“Master?”

Park trailed his hand back down Dennis’s side again, and looked over at Kasey. Other than Dennis, she was actually his most common sub to keep. She was the only slave he had at the moment, and she liked his style of ownership. She liked that he didn’t get possessive over her time. “Hmm?”

She looked a mixture of nervous and excited, like she always did when she addressed her master first. Park knew when to correct her, and keeping her in slave-space for so long meant she had to be able to speak ‘out of turn’ if she needed to. Maybe for a short scene he could punish her for speaking without permission. He suspected other Doms had tried to keep her down for too long, and still punished her for speaking. She would accept that punishment either way, but it wasn’t fair to her as a whole. She wasn’t a real slave, and he wouldn’t allow that type of abuse to happen. Could mess her up worse than her past Masters had.

“Speak, girl.”

Kasey looked at Dennis, and back to the floor again. “I was wondering if I could give Dennis a spa day tomorrow. He’s going to meet your friends in puppyspace?”

Park grinned, looking back at Dennis who finally looked away from the documentary they’d been watching on dinosaurs, and gave a few nervous squeaks to his blueberry toy. Park lifted one of his hands -so soft and petite, really- and inspected them. “Calm down, pup, you need a good grooming session anyways. Kasey will pamper you, probably give you far more treats than she should, maybe take a half inch off your hair… would make those curls pop back to shape. Yeah, you can groom him tomorrow, girl.”

Kasey made an excited noise in her throat, and couldn’t hide the little smile. Sometimes Park thought she’d be a happiest being a slave to an animal. The lowest of the low, truly owned someone less than human. Probably why she bloomed under Park, who let those pets take advantage of her as they pleased.

He sat up on the couch. Their documentary was just at the end, and he let Dennis climb up into his chest like the whiny baby he was. “Go ready your cages, girl. Bedtime soon. Then take Dennis out to go potty.”

He got up to check on the house. The kennels were in a converted garage, and his own paranoia had him checking anywhere that a sad creature could be before bedtime, but Dennis and Kasey’s cages were in his bedroom. Kasey would be chained in, but with pop-chains that could be pulled apart with a mild force in case of fires, and Dennis’s cage would be kept open, but fully covered so he had a little Puppyboy cave to snuggle up in. He had to keep an eye on these two, admittedly, the most vulnerable ones.

Alpha!Pope who has to get a nanny for Lena because the jobs they do are usually in after school hours and he has no one to watch her, so he hires a nanny.

Alpha!Pope who hires Omega!reader as the nanny because shes clean (pretty), a nursing student so she knows safety and that means your BLS certified, and you’re great with Lena (who may or may not be trying to set her Uncle up with the nice, pretty nanny).

Alpha!Pope not being used to domesticity and not being used to coming home to a clean house and food cooked and Lena all ready for bed already. Pope struggling with the differences between nonromantic affection and romantic affection. Pope starting to get used to how the house smells like him, you, and Lena, like a family house would.

Omega!Reader who is completely oblivious the entire time. She has no idea that her boss is starting to develop feeling for her. He doesn’t emote very well, and honestly doesn’t talk to her much outside of talking about Lena.

She has her own room at the house, since she’s the person who gets Lena up in the morning if Pope isn’t back yet, and usually she pickes her up from school too. Her bedroom is near Lenas, but its directly next to Popes, so she can smell alpha pheromones pretty much all the time, so she does an intranasal spray once a week to handle the smell. Her nest is all nice and cozy with lots of soft pillows and blankets, some little stuffed animals she thought were too cute to not have. Her own classes start and end before Lena gets out so it all works out and she can afford her supplies for school because Pope pays WAY too much. Besides her base pay he tends to leave more money for if she takes Lena anywhere, but honestly its still way too much and she started just putting it in a cookie jar to give to Lena if she ever needs it.

Lena absolutely tells on you that you’ve not been using the money. Not to get you in trouble since youre not spending it on her, but she starts to see you as a mother figure too and she knows Omegas are supposed to be catered to.

Pope, meanwhile, is obsessed with providing for his little family. He knows how much her textbooks cost. He knows when she needs her oil changed. He knows when her gas is about empty (and isn’t it a little suspicious that she hasn’t had to get gas since she started working for Pope? She’s a little airheaded about things like that though so she doesn’t notice). He knows what her heat cycle is and when she’s due for a heat based on the dates on her suppressant medications. This is what an Alpha and husband does for his omega wife. He doesn’t see anything wrong with what hes doing.

She didn’t know that Pope put cameras in her room and around the house.

She didn’t notice when Pope switched out her suppressants with placebos, and her spray with saline.

She doesn’t really notice when her nest starts to smell a little bit more like Pope than normal, with it progressively getting stronger.

She DOES notice when she wakes up one morning in her nest, covered in sweat and hot in certain places with her sense of smell in overdrive.

Pope wouldn’t even think twice about it. If you ask him they’ve already been an item since you started working for him months ago. He already arranged for Deran to watch Lena for a few days, and Lena was more than happy to give her “parents” space.

You are a little confused when Pope comes in to your room, but youre so out of it from your first heat in forever you don’t even really make any noises besides half formed sentences. You think he might be talking but youre ears are too fuzzy to make out what hes saying. He smells so nice, and you find yourself climbing in his arms and nuzzling your face in his neck to be closer. His large hands are pulling your clothes off and thank GOD you were so warm. Pope starts taking his clothes off too, and you’ve seen the man shirtless before you know hes built. He lays you back in your nest once youre both undressed and he starts touching you in all of your scent glands, combining your scent together and making your head cloudier. Part of your brain recognizes that something is wrong, this shouldn’t be happening, but you cant reach it through the head fog. Pope lowers himself between your legs, and you whimper a little from the loss of heat. Large hands spread your legs and you feel like a doll being moved around. His tongue paints broad stripes up and down your pussy, and he growls into you before closing his mouth around your clit and sucking. She throws her leg across his back and arches, accidentally shoving his face deeper.

Pope is in heaven. He finally got his omega to have her heat like shes been needing. He read Omegas need to have regularly heats or it could affect their reproductive system, and how was she going to give Lena siblings if she didn’t have regular heats? That’s what he was there for, as your alpha. Now, he sucks around your clit and licks into your hole while youre whimpering above him. Your hands are grasping the pillows and blankets around you, head thrown back. He works a finger, then two, then three in to you. Hes not a small man, hes large even for Alpha standards, he knows that. The whores Smurf hired have complained more than once. But that will never be a problem again, because youre his Omega which means youre made to take him.

He would be so caring, thinking youre still with it and, in his brain, thinking you consented to mating with him. He would be practically laying on you, obsessed with closeness when he put it in. Youre underneath him, panting and whimpering, lost in your heat while hes rubbing his cock through your mess. Finally, the tip catches on your hole and youre whimpering. Pope takes it as eagerness and captures your mouth in a kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself, before hilting himself in one thrust.

Youre arch off the bed with a loud keen, but Pope still has his tongue in your mouth, muffling most of your noises. It hurts, hes too big, youre not big enough, and tears escape your eyes. At this point though, Pope is too far gone to notice. He hunches over you, shoving his face in your neck and gathering you up like a marionette before he starts rutting inside of you. On each thrust you can feel his tip on your cervix, sending little waves through you. The omega part of you is thrilled that your so, so full of such a strong Alpha; but the logical part of you, even though its far away, is still sounding red flags. Your pussy accepts each thrust, straining around his cock. Pope knew you could take him, this was what you were made for. You squeal when his knot starts to form, your poor swollen pussy accepting the abuse as it pops in and out of your hole. You cant do anything but scratch Popes back, and grab at his arms as youre forced to accept his stupidly giant knot. When it finally pops in all the way Pope is still hunched over you, doing these small little grinding motions while you pulse around him, the intensity of your heat finally satisfied with the cum pouring in to you.

this is self indulgent and probably ooc but idk sue me… i write these mostly to feed my own demons lol. anyways this is kind of a mix of headcanons and scenarios; it starts sfw bc i do have some cute stuff to say about our sweet boy andrew, but then it just devolves into debauchery from there.

cw mommy kink (duhh), reader is mentioned to have afab anatomy, breastplay/breastfeeding, puppy play motifs. i just call him andrew here and not pope, as i often do bc it’s just more intimate imo.

Dating Jack Abbot

contains nsfw content

A big softie actually. He loves nothing more than coming home to curl up in your arms.

Don't even think about paying for anything. Ever. Not only is he an old man with old values, he's rich. You're not paying. He's kind of offended that you thought you'd need to.

Not in a controlling way.

In a deeply offended way if you even try to argue. To him, taking care of you financially is just another way of caring for you. There’s something about being able to provide, to make things easier for you, that settles something in him. It’s less about money and more about you not having to worry.

Spend! His! Money!

Want your nails done? Use his card! Going out for lunch with friends? Use his card! Buying new clothes? Use his card! Going grocery shopping? Use his card! (it gets him hard)

His place (house or apartment) is homely and warm before you start coming around, but he says he likes it better now that it's got you written all over it, even if you're not living with him.

A fluffy blanket on the couch, candles in every room, your makeup and soap and hair products in the bathroom, your clothes in his wardrobe.

Physical touch !!! He must be holding your hand or have a hand on your back or hooked into your pocket or shirt or literally whatever he can get or he will die !!!

He likes to know you’re there. Likes that you don’t pull away from him.

Personal space? What's that? Your personal space is Jack's personal space and Jack's personal space is your personal space.

That said, he does respect any and all boundaries you have and he's very good at knowing what they are just by looking at you.

Has nightmares often and finds it difficult to get back to sleep after, so he spends most of his nights watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully beside him.

You have bad period cramps? He's already got you the supplies you need, a heat pack, your favourite tea and chocolate, with a show ready to go on the tv.

None of that working? Ok, do you want to cum? He's more than happy to fuck you through the cramps.

You're worried about the blood? He's an ex-military, ER doctor, SWAT medic.. blood is not an issue.

Wear his clothes at your own risk because the second he sees you in one of his shirts, he's tenting in his pants and any plans you had are going to have to be rescheduled.

Loves giving you hickies. He feels like a horny teenage boy, but he loves seeing his marks on you.

Favourite way to sleep is on his back with your cheek pressed to his chest.

Forehead kisses! Cheek kisses! Kisses on the tip of your nose! Kisses on the back of your hand! Kisses on your shoulder! All the kisses! Anywhere he can get his lips on your skin will do!!

Bad day? He’s already figured it out before you say anything. He’ll show up with your favourite drink, something warm, something sweet, and a quiet “thought you might need this.” No questions asked.

If you’re stressed, he’ll run a bath, dim the lights, and sit nearby just so you don’t feel alone.

He has a habit of checking in on you constantly. Not in an intrusive way—just a simple: “You good?” “Eat yet?” “Too tired?” It’s instinct for him. If you’re in his life, your wellbeing becomes something he keeps track of without effort.

He remembers everything about you. Your favourite drink order. The way you like your pillows arranged. The exact show you put on when you need comfort. Little things you mention once? He files them away and pulls them back out later when you least expect it.

Date nights with Jack are simple but meaningful. He prefers low-pressure, comfortable settings.

He’s protective in a quiet, watchful way. You never have to wonder if he has your back.

He loves domestic moments more than anything. Grocery shopping together. Cooking side by side. Sitting at the table while you talk about your day. Those moments matter to him more than anything flashy ever could.

Jack runs warm—like, physically warm—so you will absolutely end up using him as a human heater without even trying. He pretends to complain, but he never moves you.

If you fall asleep on him, he stops everything. Phone down, TV muted, breathing slowed like he’s trying not to disturb you.

He’s surprisingly competitive in small, silly ways. Board games, card games, even arguing over who can cook better—he will win. Respectfully.

Cries the first time you help him take care of his leg after a long day.

He has a “you ate?” radar. Doesn’t matter where he is—if you haven’t eaten, he knows, and he’s on his way with food.

He loves when you talk to him while he’s doing something. Fixing something? Cleaning? Sitting quietly? He just likes the sound of your voice in the background.

Jack’s hugs are not quick. They are long. Firm. Slightly tight. The kind that say I’m not going anywhere.

He has a soft spot for your laugh. If he makes you laugh, he’ll repeat the joke later just to hear it again—even if it wasn’t that funny the first time.

He’s a little old-fashioned in the best way—opening doors, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, offering his jacket without thinking twice.

He has a habit of resting his hand on your thigh, shoulder, or back—just something to stay connected. It’s grounding for him.

He loves watching you get ready. Not in a creepy way—just quiet admiration. Like he’s genuinely in awe that you’re his.

Pretends he doesn’t like being fussed over… but if you tuck him in, adjust his blanket, or bring him something without asking, he melts every time.

If you shift away from him while sleeping, he subconsciously follows you until you’re back against him again. It’s automatic.

He has a very soft “come here” gesture. Just a slight tilt of his head or a small shift of his arm and you know he wants you closer.

He lowkey loves when you boss him around in small ways. “Sit.” “Eat.” “Come here.” It scratches something in his brain.

You're never carrying a bag again. Don't even think about it.

You're sick? Well.. you could have sworn you were dating a doctor but apparently he's forgotten every bit of medical knowledge he’s ever had. Like, gone. Replaced with pure panic and the urge to fix you immediately. Good luck.

He physically cannot relax until he’s sitting near you, watching you like a hawk.

Worries about you. Because he's old. And you're young. And you are going to have to live without him. And you're going to have to mourn him. And he hates that.

Loves your tits. Big hand sliding under your shirt just to hold them. Rubbing his face on them when he's resting on your chest. Big big fan.

Big dick.

Like.

Big.

You're being stretched by his fingers and cuming on his tongue at least twice first and it's still going to be a stretch.

You don't think you can take him? Oh don't worry, pretty, he's going to make it fit. You can take it.

Loves your tits. More often than not he's too busy sucking on your tits to talk you through it.

Grunts and groans.

Voice breaks when he cums.

Tell him it feels good and he's stopping to breath through it so he doesn't cum on the spot.

Insists on using a condom the first few times, but after you've been together for a few months (and you begging him to fill you up), he agrees to fuck you raw. Never goes back.

Gets hard just from kissing you.

Promises that you don't have to suck his cock, but can't hide the way his cock twitches at the sight of you on your knees.

A munch.

Eats you out like once a day honestly. He loves it.

Sometimes just wants to eat you out and doesn't even bother pulling his dick out of his pants.

Pull on his hair while his face is between your legs and he's rutting into the nearest surface.

You introduce him to cockwarming and he loves it. Does it while watching tv. His favourite is to put on a horror movie and feel you get scared. He's always happy to protect you from the monsters on the screen.

Refuses to let you send him nudes. Doesn't want to risk them getting out.

Sometimes the two of you are just straight up vulgar. You're on your hands and knees on the European Oak flooring of his apartment — the flooring you begged him to get installed cus you thought it looked pretty.

He's above you, thighs on either side of yours and a hand holding your head up right beneath the curve of your jaw so that your neck doesnt hurt.

He's so much bigger than you. So domineering and warm and gentle that it makes your head swim with a heavy honeyed feeling.

Sinking his digit to the knuckle past the rim of your hole rips a raw gasp from the back of your throat.

Jack's there immediately. Burrowing his nose in the back of your hair, holding you at your jaw securely.

"Y'okay?" His voice is soft, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

Jack gives you a moment to breathe, the pad of his thumb stroking the skin of your neck softly.

"Okay, okay. Slow– slow down, please— just need a sec," you scramble, panting and readjusting your knees on the pillow Jack placed on the floor for you, a soft and weak laugh falls past your lips as you rock from side to side, growing familiar with the weight of his cock paired with the stretch of his finger knuckle deep in your asshole.

"Alright," Jack hums voice dry and careful, pressing another kiss to the back of your head, circling his digit upwards and curling it back towards him, "M'stoppin, m'stoppin."

mdni !! a/n: this came to me in a dream. JACK ABBOT CAN I BE YOUR CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GIRLFRIEND?? cw: fem reader, age gap, fluff, suggestive content, daddy kink, Jack Abbot is a freak (that is MY truth, move along)

For Jack, dominance is less about control and more about proving to himself that he is useful. Useful to you, most of all. That is not to say he does not enjoy control. He loves it, especially when it makes him feel productive, like he is doing something worthwhile, fixing something, taking care of someone. And you make him feel more useful, more productive, than anything else ever has.

He had wanted to be a father once. He had imagined it in the vague, aching way people imagine futures they assume they will have: teaching a child how to drive, reminding them to wear a coat, showing them how to do things properly. But life got in the way of that. He lost his wife, got older, buried the want so deep inside himself that he stopped noticing it was there.

And then you came along. You ask him questions, you let him explain things to you. You roll your eyes when he tells you to eat something, to go to sleep, to stop apologizing, and then you do it anyway. He likes teaching you things, likes the way you look at him when he is showing you how to do something, likes that you come to him when you need help. He likes taking care of you, likes making your life easier, likes having someone to fuss over and guide and gently boss around.

Sometimes he thinks there is something wrong with him for it. Something sick in the way his chest tightens whenever you are around. You are so cute, so pretty, so unbearably tempting that eventually it stops mattering. It stops mattering that it turns him on when you rely on him, when you look to him for help, when you come so willingly at his beck and call. He forgets all of his worries when you're in his bed gasping out for daddy, for him.

He tells himself he is too old for this, too old to get so attached to the way you look at him when he gives you instructions, too old to enjoy how easily you let him take over. He thinks he should feel guiltier about the warmth that spreads through him when you call him "dad" as a joke, all teasing and saccharine, and then look up at him through your lashes to see what he will do. Is it really a punishment if you enjoy yourself so much?

But you are so pretty when you need him, so sweet. And all he ever really needed was to be needed.

So he stops thinking about it eventually. Stops thinking at all, really, when you are curled up in his bed in one of his old t-shirts, breathing softly against his pillows and reaching for him with a soft, sleepy little, "Jack," like you already know he is there, ready to pull you against his broad chest, ready to make it all better. Because he always does, he always takes care of everything.

He is the sort of man who keeps an extra sweater in his car because he knows you never check the weather before you leave the house, and even if you did you probably prioritized your outfit over your comfort. The sort of man who notices when you are cold before you say anything, who wordlessly drapes his jacket over your shoulders and presses a hand to the back of your neck. There's no words needed, just the firm press of his skin against yours.

He ties your shoelaces when they come undone, kneels before you dramatically even when you have asked him not to time and time again, even if you frown and complain, tell him he's not as young as he used to be, he can't be putting all that weight on his prosthetic. But still you rest your foot in his hands as he ties the laces carefully. He cuts up fruit for you when you are working too late, setting the plate beside you with a quiet, "Eat." He stands behind you while you study, one hand heavy on your shoulder, reading over what you have written and correcting you with that low, patient voice of his. He likes teaching you. Likes the way you huff and insist you already knew that, even as you lean back into him and let him explain.

You let Jack choose things for you. What you wear when you cannot decide. What you order when you get overwhelmed at restaurants. Which side of the bed you sleep on, because he likes you closest to the wall where he can keep you safe, away from the door, from possible intruders.

He is always touching you, as if you were his lifeline. It's absentminded, you doubt he notices how much he does it. In reality, you doubt he realizes the extent of his obsession with you, the extent of his possessiveness. A hand at the small of your back. A palm on your knee beneath the table when you get fidgety. Fingers brushing over the inside of your wrist when he takes something from your hands. The lazy, possessive way he hooks two fingers through one of your belt loops to pull you back against him when you wander too far away. Fingers beneath your chin when he wants you to look at him. His palm spread over your thigh in the car, squeezing once when you get bratty with him.

You think he likes when you act bratty because it gives him an excuse to pull you into his lap and hold your face still while he tells you, very patiently, exactly how you are going to behave. An excuse to make you repeat yourself when you mumble. An excuse to tip your chin up with two fingers and make you look at him while he talks.

And you like it too. You like the way he buttons your coat for you with a little frown, muttering about how you would forget your own head if it was not attached to you. You like the way he scolds you for skipping meals, the way he pulls you into his lap the second you start pouting. You like the way he tells you what to do as though it is the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is. For you it is.

Sometimes, when Jack gets home in the early mornings, tired and aching after a draining shift and he finds you tucked under his bedcovers, breathing slowly under the soft morning light, he smooths a hand through your hair and thinks that this must have been what he wanted all along. Someone to love. Someone to take care of. Someone who lets him feel useful.

And maybe that is where it starts to become something else. Something warmer and stranger and just a little embarrassing. Because he is a pervert, really. A pathetic, middle-aged man who should probably know better than to get so worked up over the way a girl half his age looks at him when he tells her what to do.

There is something almost embarrassingly domestic about the way he indulges it. The way he calls you his girl under his breath when he thinks you are asleep. The way he tells you to climb into his lap when you are upset, then strokes your hair and presses your face into his chest until you stop crying. The way he praises you for the smallest things.

He never says it out loud, but there is a part of him that feels almost spoiled by you. Spoiled by how easily you hand him that role, how readily you let him take over. You look to him before you make decisions, ask him what he thinks, what he wants, what you should do. And every time, something in him preens.

He catches himself lingering in it. Taking a little too long to straighten your collar, to smooth his thumb over your lower lip when you are pouting, to keep you tucked against his side with a hand low on your waist. He likes when you wait for him. Likes when you ask for permission even when you do not have to. Likes the little pause before you do something, that tiny glance in his direction as though checking whether daddy approves.

You linger, too. When you wake up before him on the rare day off he takes, and you can take a moment to explore the freckles and scars that litter his back, you can trace them with your fingertips or your lips. You linger when he fixes your collar or buttons your coat, staring up at him hungrily. You like it when he laughs and tells you you worry too much, that he will make it all better as he pulls your lower lip out from between your teeth. You like asking for permission, not because you have to but because it brings Jack a strange sense of comfort. You like it when he tells you to sit still while he fixes your hair, murmurs, “Don’t squirm,” and you do, letting his hand settle low on your waist while he brushes down a stray strand.

And sometimes, when you're sat in his kitchen in the afternoon, watching Jack make coffee; and the sunlight filters through the curtains just right, you think maybe this is what you wanted all along. Someone to hold you when you feel small, someone to make things easier for you, someone who lets you lean in completely.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

he likes to have jack and robby in his eyeline at all times- he doesn't understand yet how to trust that people will come back when they go. he needs to be touching them to reassure himself they're there, and he needs to have them touching him to prove to himself that they want him and aren't discarding him the way he was before.

he's terrified of being left alone, and his boyfriends do everything they can to settle him. the collar helps him, grounds him a bit and makes him relax into the older mens arms, but the panic that sets in when they try and take it off for work is debilitating. so naturally the day collar is added, and that too helps.

when one of them has to leave the room the other will distract their puppy to keep him calm, letting him suck on their fingers, or giving him soothing belly rubs that make him shiver in happiness. he has to sleep between them, always between them, two heartbeats around him, two sets of hands holding him.

robby and Jack know theyve got a deeply traumatised and spooked pup. they know there's a possibility their dennis will never be fully carefree in his puppyspace, always fearful of abandonment. they don't care though- they get so much out of their beautiful, sweet, cuddly pup, and dennis has gotten so much happier and healthier, that it's all worth it.

1. The chirps - no they're not all relevant, or something you'd hear in an NHL game, but they perfectly show the art of getting a guy to fight you on the ice. Getting under someone's skin with a big smile on your face is very Rosanov coded.

2. The hockey - they didn't teach actors to play hockey, they taught hockey players to act. Because of this, Shorsey's hockey looks GOOD. The hits hit, the goals get you out of your seat, and the strategy makes sense. It's really not NHL hockey, but for those of us that aren't watching real games its a very good, well shot example.

3. Locker room talk - in the long game, Shane says that after a life in locker rooms, he's not actually sure what is and isn't homophobic anymore. The Shorsey locker room is a perfect example. As people, they are actually pretty progressive, but as shit talkers, they are not. However, it's still damn funny, as someone who is often very uncomfortable around queerphobic jokes, I laughed my ass off, and rarely felt uncomfortable

4. Love of the game - The Shorsey characters aren't there because they're getting payed millions, or people are looking up to them, they're there because they love hockey, they love to win, they love to fight and work together and hear a crowd. A lot of the Game Changers hockey players struggle with still loving the game that is standing between them and their happiness in some way. Shorsey shows why. Because no one plays Beer League hockey unless they LOVE hockey

5. Gap tooth grins - I love the gorgeous men they put in heated rivalry, but I'm a sucker for a guy that looks like he's been hit so many times this face stuck like that. There's romance and beauty in that too, and I want us to remember that. Nothing cuter than a gap tooth grin.

6. Heart - Shorsey is a good fucking show. I get a good cry at least once a season, and I need more of the fandom to see it. It's full of love, and heartbreak, and what it means to be a family, on and off the ice. You won't regret it

And for those that don't know why THIS hockey show, Jacob Tierney is an executive producer and director on Shorsey, (first two seasons) and co creator of Letterkenny, which the show is a spin-off from. The music and cinematography really shows it, and it's WAY too good for a hockey show about a guy that talks shit and fights a lot.

Monster X Human

Imagine standing on the deck of your ship with him, just ypu and the stars while the crew sleep below deck. He's bent double because of a joke you cant remember saying because he's just so damn pretty that you could forget your name.