#dirty pooch

[pizzapringlespretzuls]

Reread grim tales from down below and got interested by the panels of Mandy growing up. I got inspired and here's Mandy!

Olga and Gaz are coming soon!

Definitely getting rid of the shitty undertones and 9/11 shit bc wtf bleedman...bro really can't pick just one way to be shitty motherfucker gotta get a damn bingo

[eupheme]

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

[hadesoftheladies]

saying you look better without makeup shouldn't be so taboo tbh. like some women need to be told that their fake lashes and heaped foundation and painted eyebrows look objectively terrible and their natural features are hot. why can't i say that you look hot fresh-faced? because you do. forget whatever men think. those freaks would fuck a piece of abandoned carboard in a dirty street. they don't even know what a healthy woman looks like. they have literally lost all objectivity. these fools don't even know how our bodies work and you expect them to give an accurate opinion on what kind of woman looks good or healthy? they don't know shit! your pooch is actually attractive! so is your buccal fat! so is your arm and leg hair! YOU'RE A BABE! stop trying to get rid of the babe-ness!

[princessbrunette]

there was a reason puppy!reader had that nickname. puppy.

john b could be a bit of a lone wolf. meaning, if he had to go on some top secret mission, that he thought could jeopardise anyone — he’d much rather do it alone. but fear not, he’d make sure to leave jj by your side back at the chateau to keep you company and ensure you’re not getting yourself wound up in any trouble without him at your side to protect you.

jj, who would often stumble upon you committing ‘puppy’ like activities in the absence of your boyfriend.

the blonde enters the bedroom, bare feet slapping the floor as he journeys to find you — wanting to enquire on whether or not you’d be interested in ordering in some pizza. you’d been in a mood today, understandably. john b had texted, letting the group know he’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere. he’s totally safe, but he’s gonna be another couple of days. a couple of days was a long time for a clingy girl like you.

upon finding you, jj discovered you to be laying face down in a pile of john b’s dirty laundry. it was evident that you had yanked it all out of the hamper the way it was strewn across the bedroom floor, an amalgamation of printed shirts, worn boxers and swim shorts that despite all the days they’d been left in there were still tinged slightly with dampness from the salty ocean.

“uh… you alive, pooch?” jj bends his toes, nudging you with the knuckle of them. you groan, like a real devastated noise as if you hadn’t been breathing and he’d actually just reminded you that you still had a pulse. “whats with the mess anyway?”

demonstratively, you sit up in your knees, bringing one of john b’s shirts with you. the egg shell coloured one with the stripes. not even one of your favourites, but it still smelled like him — the outside, grass and trees and salt water and a little sweaty from wear. you hold the material to your face, sniffing so hard your nostrils concave as jj scratches behind his head. breathlessly, you strain “i miss him.”

“right. right.” the southern drawl of jjs accent slips through as he nods, coming to squat beside him. “yeah y’know, sniffin’ at his musty ass laundry pile ain’t gonna make him come home sooner. you need a hug?”

“i need john b.”

“well john b ain’t here. you need a hug?” he repeats sternly and you lower the material, eyeing him.

“yeah.” you peer at him, having the decency to be a little more demure now after that obscene display of your love.

“alright well get in here, crazy.” he opens his arms to you and you bundle him, always having been affectionate with your boyfriends best friend. he feels your lip curling over, pouting against his shoulder and he pats the back of your head. “yeah, i know. a couple’a days is a looong time in dog years, huh?” he jokes and you frown, pulling back stubbornly.

“you know i’m not an actual dog, right?” you sark sulkily and he smiles, bringing you back in by the back of your head.

“yeah yeah, whatever you say scruff.”

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi molly! For the conversation hearts (thank you so much for doing this 🥺🥰):

Jake Jensen + Kiss Me

off-limits

pairing: bodyguard!jake jensen x female reader

summary: you're spending your valentine's day at home alone with your bodyguard, who you have a major crush on. when you start to wonder if he might like you as well, you use some conversation hearts to find out his true feelings.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping/dry sex, breast play, nipple sucking, biting, cumming while fully clothed, orgasm control/permission, light bdsm, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (princess, dream girl), aftercare, non-graphic allusions to more sex

word count: 4.4k

a/n: thank you for sending in a prompt, Essie!! i always enjoy writing for Jake—he's just such a fun character to play around with, and he's a perfect fit for the "idiots in love" trope, which is one of my favorites. plus, he's always so sweet, which lends itself perfectly to some sweet and smutty valentine's shenanigans 🤭 thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

Jake Jensen was off-limits. He was so far off-limits. He was your bodyguard, for fuck’s sake. But that didn’t seem to matter to your pitiful heart. You were hopelessly crushing on the big, broad-shouldered mercenary with the goatee and glasses, and the charmingly crooked smile that made butterflies take flight in your belly every time he flashed it in your direction.

And no matter how much time you spent with Jake Jensen, no matter how much you whined and wheedled to get to know him, until he was keeping you updated about his sister’s terrible boss and his niece’s soccer team’s excellent record, your crush just wouldn’t go away. 

You were infatuated with the exact shade of sapphire of Jake’s eyes, and the nervous laugh that fell from his lips when he was flustered. You were downright smitten with the way he’d talk to your stuffed animals when he thought you weren’t looking—and the way he’d give them all funny little voices when he knew you were watching him do a sweep of your room. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining Jake in your bed, his strong arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck while you woke up. You’d have bet anything that Jake was the best at cuddling, and you could so easily picture the way you’d wiggle your ass in his lap, enticing him into some slow morning sex…

You shook your head, clearing that wildly inappropriate thought from your mind and tried to focus back on your TV. A romantic comedy was playing on the screen, the lights in your living room dimmed low, and there was a whole spread of festive snacks and candies on the coffee table. None of which had been touched.

Admittedly, you may have gone a little overboard for a Valentine’s Day spent home alone with your bodyguard, watching movies while candles flickered romantically around the room. But, in your defense, Jake hadn’t been meant to work Valentine’s Day. It had been Roque’s turn in the rotation, but the gruff man had come down with something at the last minute. 

You knew Clay had called all the others before he’d called Jake, but Pooch and Cougar were busy, and since he didn’t want to play babysitter himself on Valentine’s Day—no matter how many favors he owed your father—he’d finally called Jake. Jake, of course, had no other plans and had happily agreed to take the shift watching you.

He’d turned up so quickly at your doorstep, relieving Clay to go get ready for his date, that you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake had broken some speeding laws getting to your apartment. He’d been wearing his usual puppy-dog grin and gave you a box of conversation hearts before wishing you a happy Valentine’s Day while Clay rolled his eyes. 

The head of your security team had fixed Jake with a pointed look before leaving the two of you alone. Even though no words had been exchanged, even you could tell Clay had given Jake some type of warning, though you couldn’t imagine what it could’ve been about. Jake was always polite and respectful when he was with you. 

It was you who had all the inappropriate thoughts about your bodyguard.

On the TV, the romcom leads were bickering about something. It was still early on in their love story and they were still convinced they hated each other. However, it was painfully obvious to anyone watching that they both had feelings for the other. 

You’d seen the movie plenty of times, so you risked a glance at Jake, who was lounging comfortably on the other end of your couch. You caught his blue eyes darting away from your face and had the distinct impression he’d been looking at you, though you decided that couldn’t be true. 

Surely you would’ve noticed if your bodyguard had been staring at you. Wouldn’t you?

The question gave you pause. You’d grown so used to being watched, whether it was by the mercenaries your father had hired as your bodyguards or by any of the strangers who stared at you and your entourage with curiosity when you went outside. You supposed you’d long since stifled whatever sense people got when they were being watched.

As you ruminated on the idea, you were staring at Jake, which you didn’t notice until he leaned forward suddenly and grabbed a handful of popcorn from a bowl on the table. He shoved the whole lot into his mouth and cut a glance in your direction, coughing when he realized you were still watching him. He gave a laugh, the one he always let out when he was flustered, and it hit you like a lightning strike.

Jake Jensen liked you. 

Your eyes watched him closely, taking in the slight pink tinge of his cheeks and the way his bright blue eyes kept cutting over you to like he was uncertain. His fingers pushed up his glasses and he coughed into his fist. 

He was nervous. Of that, you were sure. But given who your father was, it wasn’t out of the norm for people to be nervous around you. You had to know if Jake was nervous because of your father, or because he liked you.

Turning back to the spread of food on the coffee table, you spotted the box of conversation hearts and a plan began to form in your mind.

As casually as you could manage, you grabbed the box and ripped it open, your eyes fixed unseeingly on the TV as you tried to pretend to be watching the movie. For a few minutes, you sat in silence, making it seem like you were engrossed in the movie, though you were much more interested in watching Jake out of the corner of your eye. 

He kept looking over at you. Long, lingering looks that didn’t seem to have anything to do with making sure you were safe. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed it before—you must’ve been too wrapped up in your own thoughts about your bodyguard to see it.

Your heart raced in your chest with the possibility that you were right, that Jake Jensen might like you just as much as you liked him. But you knew you had to be careful. You didn’t want to spook your bodyguard—not if you wanted him to be so much more than that.

“Do you want one?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain casual as you turned to Jake and held up the box of conversation hearts. You shook it for good measure. 

Jake’s eyes darted between your face and the box, like he could sense a trap. But when you refused to give anything away with your expression, he sighed and reached a hand out. 

“Sure, princess, I’ll take one.”

A small smile played around the corners of your lips and you peered into the box, rooting around until you found one that had a message you wanted to convey to Jake. Finally, you found a pink one that said Kiss me, and your heart lurched excitedly in your chest.

You grabbed the candy and dropped it into Jake’s palm, a shiver racing down your spine when your fingertips brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Little tingles of awareness darted through your body and you had to bite back a gasp as you drew your hand back, watching intently as Jake brought his hand to his mouth. 

But he wasn’t even looking at what the heart said! How was your plan supposed to work if he didn’t even read what it said? 

A little distressed sound fell from your lips and you cried, “Jake!” 

The big bodyguard froze instantly, his head whipping around and blue eyes darting sharply toward the door like he was expecting a team of mercenaries to barge into your apartment and threaten your life. When he couldn’t find any danger, Jake turned his gaze on you, his blue eyes bright with panic behind the frames of his glasses.

“You can’t eat a conversation heart without reading it first,” you said, infusing your voice with an innocent playfulness while you rolled your eyes at him, as if it was a hard and fast rule of eating the Valentine’s candy and he was breaking it. 

The side of Jake’s mouth pulled up in a crooked smile—sending butterflies fluttering and swooping in your belly—and he glanced down, taking care to turn over the little heart in his palm to read what it said. You could tell when he had because he went still again, a light pink blush tinging his cheeks.

“Princess,” he grumbled, keeping his head ducked while his finger traced the candy in his hand. 

“Y’know, I heard it’s bad luck to ignore the words on a candy heart given to you by someone you care about,” you said in what you hoped was an innocent tone. You turned your head back toward the TV, but kept your eyes on your bodyguard, wondering what he was going to say or do to that.

“Princess.”

That time, your pet name was a groan from Jake’s lips as he tipped his head back and closed his fist around the candy. Despite the torture in his tone, your body lit up, responding to the gruff way he said the pet name. Your mind instantly wandered to other ways you could make him groan it like that. Maybe with your mouth pressed to his bulge…

Jake was staring at you, his blue eyes blazing with heat and hunger and so much restraint, it cracked something open inside you. It wasn’t like you to allow yourself to be vulnerable around anyone, but there was something about the way Jake was looking at you that made you think you could take a chance with him.

“Please, Jake,” you murmured, your voice quiet and pitiful as you begged him openly. “It’s just a kiss—and I haven’t been kissed in so long.”

Jake groaned again, and your body was lighting up all over again, tingles dancing along your nerves and butterflies soaring in your belly. But your bodyguard distracted you from your body’s reaction by grabbing your hips and dragging you across the couch until you were right next to him. 

Your bare thigh was flush against his, your skin pressed to the rough jeans he was wearing. You almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your leg pressed against Jake’s, but he made a sound and you looked up at him.

Jake loomed over you, his blue gaze darkening as they flicked between your eyes and your mouth, like he was considering giving you exactly what you’d asked for. That realization made your breath catch in your throat and you leaned into his side, basking in his warmth and letting the spicy scent of his cologne fill your senses. 

“Just this once,” Jake said sternly, his gaze roving over your face like he was trying to memorize every bit of it and commit it to his mind. “Clay’s going to fucking kill me,” he muttered, but you didn’t have a chance to wonder over what he meant by that.

Because, in the next moment, Jake was ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, a sizzling, sparkling feeling of delight filling your body from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. It was better than you ever imagined, and you couldn’t get enough, chasing after Jake’s mouth when he tried to pull away, sucking on his lower lip and feeling the tickle of his goatee when he kissed you again, harder.

Your fingers twisted in the soft cotton of Jake’s t-shirt, pulling him closer while you stretched and arched into him. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching the quick rhythm of your own, and you smiled against his lips.

All too soon, Jake was pulling away, his hands cupping your face and easing you back when you tried to kiss him again. 

A disgruntled noise fell from your lips and you followed Jake as he retreated, sitting up and swinging a leg over his thighs. Before you even knew what you were doing, you were sitting in Jake’s lap, both of you blinking at each other like neither of you knew how you’d gotten there.

Jake’s hands idly kneaded your hips through the lounge shorts you’d worn to look cute and casual on your Valentine’s Day in, and your eyelashes fluttered at the feeling of his firm grip on your body. It was enough to have heat pooling between your thighs, wetness gathering and dripping into your panties, but you forced yourself to focus. 

You grabbed the candy heart that read Kiss me from the couch cushion where it had fallen when Jake had kissed you and you pressed it against his full lower lip. Wordlessly, Jake opened for you, and you placed the candy on his tongue, watching greedily as he closed his mouth around it.

The two of you hung in a suspended moment, your eyes fixed on Jake’s perfect mouth and deciding whether you wanted to try to lick the candy from his tongue. Jake’s hands squeezed your hips hard, and you glanced up into his eyes, finding his pupils blown so wide, they nearly blotted out the bright blue of his irises. 

“Princess,” he rumbled, his voice full of warning. Inexplicably, though, his tone only made you squirm in his lap, biting back a gasp when your core grazed against something hot and hard in Jake’s jeans.

“Jakey,” you whined softly, looping your arms around his broad shoulders and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest through your oversized sweater. You pouted up at your bodyguard from under your lashes, giving him what you hoped was both an innocent and enticing look. 

Jake cupped your cheek and he grinned crookedly, ducking down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re gonna get me fired,” he murmured teasingly when he pulled away, but you tugged him back, kissing him more firmly.

“I’d never let Clay fire you,” you said fiercely, drawing back enough to stare into Jake’s eyes. His glasses were a little askew and you fixed them carefully, smiling softly at him. 

Jake huffed a laugh and grabbed the box of conversation hearts from the other side of the couch. You sat back, curious about what he was doing, but also a little excited that he was clearly continuing your idea of communicating through candy. 

He cupped his hands, preventing you from seeing what candy heart he was picking out until he found the one he wanted. Then he grabbed your hand and held it palm up, dropping one of the conversation hearts into your palm, which you eagerly pulled closer so you could read it.

Dream Girl.

“Jake,” you breathed on a delighted sigh. Looking up, you caught him smiling that crooked grin at you, the butterflies in your belly rioting with happiness as you smiled back at him. “Am I really your dream girl?” you asked a little shyly, ducking your head and looking up at him.

“Yeah, you are,” he said softly, snagging the candy from your hand and pressing it to your lips. He watched you take it on your tongue and close your lips around it. 

Jake gave you a moment to suck on the candy and revel in the chalky sweetness of it before he was cupping your face and tugging you in for another kiss. He licked the sugary sweet taste from your lips, making you moan softly into his mouth as you melted into him.

That time, there was no pulling away. There was none of Jake trying to hold himself back and you chasing after him to make sure he didn’t put distance between the two of you. There was only your mouths fused together, your tongues exploring each other, your breaths mingling as you kissed and kissed and kissed while the romantic comedy played in the background.

After a while, the heat that had built up in your body became nearly unbearable, and your hips squirmed on Jake’s lap restlessly, needing something. Your core brushed against the hard ridge of Jake’s bulge in his jeans and you moaned obscenely into his mouth, pressing down hard enough that you could feel him twitch against your heat.

“That’s a good girl, grind on my cock, princess, take what you need,” Jake muttered, pressing hot kisses to your neck while you rocked on him. His glasses got knocked askew and he took them off, putting them aside with one hand while the other guided your hips to grind harder on his lap.

“Jakey, you feel so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips and grinding your wet slit down on his bulge through your clothes. A part of you wanted to tear through all the fabric that was separating your bodies, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, the pleasure too good and quickly driving higher and higher. “God, it’s been so long, I’m gonna cum so fast.”

Jake made a rumbling sound, like hearing that pleased him, and his hands grabbed your hips more roughly, his strong fingers kneading your ass and helping you hump harder on his cock. 

“Good girl, wanna feel you cum on my cock, princess,” he rumbled, his sweet praise making your body hotter and your slit wetter as you rode him through your clothes. “Want you to make a mess all over my lap.” 

“Jakey, Jakey, Jakey,” you whined, leaning back and changing the angle of your hips as you ground down on his bulge. Your fingers clung to the back of Jake’s neck and you panted as your body strained, rocketing toward your release, but you knew you wouldn’t get there without something else. “I need…” you huffed unhappily, not knowing what you needed. 

“I got you, princess,” Jake murmured, pushing your sweater up and pressing a hand between your shoulder blades, lifting your tits to his mouth. His lips wrapped around one pebbled nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue over the hardened peak and making you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, princess, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

“Oh god, oh Jake, that feels so good,” you babbled, shoving your chest into Jake’s face and pressing your pussy down on his rock hard cock. You began grinding your clit down on his hard length, and you knew you’d reach your release in moments, your lips parting with a gasp as you asked, “Please, can I cum, Jakey?”

Jake froze for just a second, then he was giving your nipple one last affectionate flick of his tongue before moving to the other. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking the hard peak and the softness of your breast into his hot mouth as he stared up at you with his bright blue eyes. 

“You need my permission, princess?” Jake asked teasingly, letting your tit fall from his mouth so he could lean up and cup your face, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. 

“Yes, Jake, please,” you begged in a tight voice, holding yourself back from cumming. 

“You have it,” he rumbled, a ghost of his crooked grin on his lips. “In fact, it’s an order—cum on my cock, princess, let me feel you come apart in my lap.”

Jake’s fingers pinched your nipple at the same time as his hips thrust up from beneath you, his other hand holding you firmly on his lap so his cock was wedged perfectly between your thighs. It was too much and too good and too perfect and the tension in your core snapped. 

You shattered apart with a sharp cry that Jake swallowed with another kiss. His arms wrapped around you and held you tightly as your body shook through the pleasure of your release. Your hips stuttered and your pussy clenched around nothing, and you moaned obscenely into Jake’s mouth until you needed to pull away to gasp for air.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, so fucking gorgeous cumming on my cock,” Jake babbled, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck and cheeks and anywhere he could reach. “I’m gonna—oh shit.”

He groaned loudly, pressing his face into the valley between your tits, his goatee tickling your sensitive skin while his hips rutted up into you from below. Between your thighs, you could feel his cock twitching and a growing wetness pressing into the heated flesh of your legs. 

It took you a long moment for your pleasure-dazed mind to realize what had happened, but when you did, you wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck and raked your nails soothingly through the short hair at the back of his head. 

“Jakey,” you purred, enjoying the way he shuddered through the remnants of his release, his cum sticky through his jeans and cooling rapidly on your inner thighs. “Did I really just make you cum in your pants?” 

“Yes.”

The word was grumbled against your tits a moment before Jake sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making you squeal and writhe on his lap. You may have just gotten off, but you already wanted more. You wanted Jake’s cock buried inside you, filling you completely while he made love to you slow and hard, whispering praises in your ear. 

“You’re too fucking perfect, my fucking dream girl,” Jake muttered, licking his tongue over your skin to soothe the place where he’d just bitten. His tone was a little resentful, and you could tell from the way he was refusing to meet your eye that your big, tough bodyguard was feeling a little insecure about cumming in his pants.

“And you’re my dream guy, Jakey,” you murmured, squeezing him tight and dropping a kiss to his forehead. 

Your words made Jake finally look up, though it was only to give you a dubious look. You laughed lightly and raked your nails through his hair, petting him affectionately.

“My dream guy is someone so obsessed with me that he’d cum in his pants just from watching me cum in his lap,” you explained, grinning down at Jake and lifting him up for a kiss that felt like a promise. “I love that I made you cum, Jakey—especially since it means we have to throw your clothes in the wash now.”

A wicked grin curled your mouth as you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stood from the couch, dragging Jake up after you. He grabbed his glasses and put them back on, then let you drag him into the laundry room off the kitchen in your apartment. His eyes darkened as you knelt down and undressed him, a groan slipping from his lips as you took your time cleaning him up with your mouth.

When you finally made it back to the couch, the credits were rolling on the movie you’d put on, so you started up another one, barely glancing at the title. You were too distracted by the sight of Jake in one of your t-shirts and a pair of oversized sweatpants that fit him just snugly enough that you could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

The sound of candy shaking in a cardboard box pulled your attention away from Jake’s lap and you found him searching through the conversation hearts again. You curled into his side and waited patiently while he picked one out, then held up your hand eagerly when he gestured for it.

Be Mine.

Your heart thumped happily in your chest and you popped the candy into your mouth before leaning up and kissing Jake, sharing the chalky sweet taste of the candy with him. 

“I’m all yours, Jakey,” you promised, whispering the words against his lips, unable to stop yourself from grinning wildly. 

“And I’m all yours, princess,” he echoed, pulling away only long enough to pull off his glasses and set them aside. Then he was pushing you down onto your back on the couch and settling between your thighs. “You’re my dream girl.”

“You’re my dream guy,” you said, pulling him down for a kiss. 

It was a long time later when the two of you finally came up for air. Jake’s cell phone was buzzing on the coffee table and he grabbed it, glowering at the screen before typing a response with one hand. He tossed it back down before returning his attention to you. 

“We’re going to have to tell Clay about us, aren’t we?” you asked, giving Jake, then his phone, a wary look. 

Jake huffed a laugh and buried his face in your neck. “Apparently, he already knows,” he muttered.

That gave you pause, and Jake must’ve felt the change in your body because he lifted up, giving you a wry smile. “They all know I’ve had feelings for you since we started this security gig,” he explained. “Clay was saying my lack of timely responses prove Roque’s matchmaking efforts finally worked.”

Your eyes widened as you understood what Jake was saying. Roque hadn’t really been sick, he’d been trying to get you and Jake together on Valentine’s Day. You felt a sudden surge of affection for the gruff man, and even for the leader of the security team, since it seemed he didn’t mind you’d definitely acted inappropriately with your bodyguard.

But that made you wonder, “Will you still be my bodyguard?”

A crooked grin spread across Jake’s face and he ducked down to kiss you. “Of course, princess,” he murmured, squeezing you tight in his arms. “Clay knows I’ll take even better care of you now—I’ll be the best bodyguard you’ve ever had.” He brushed a kiss to your cheek, making you giggle at the tickle of his goatee. “He’s sending Cougar over to watch our backs, though.”

That made you giggle and pull Jake’s face back to yours for another kiss. “Good,” you said in between pressing kisses to Jake’s mouth. “Then I don’t have to worry about distracting you too much.”

You giggled when Jake attacked your mouth, and the two of you sank into each other again. It wasn’t long before you were tugging each other’s clothes off and exploring each other more fully. 

For the rest of the night, you enjoyed your time with Jake, getting to know him on an even deeper, more intimate level—and learning he was just as good at cuddling as you imagined.

It was the first of many Valentine’s Days with Jake Jensen, your bodyguard and boyfriend, and each one was more special than the last because your crush had grown into real feelings, which he returned. He was no longer off-limits. He was yours and you were his.

sweethearts game masterlist

[a-hazbin-reader]

HII

Could you do some hcs of alastor with wife!reader who ABSO(LUTE)LY adores dogs? (alastor hates the dog with his entire life)

I mean...he kinda has a good reason not to be a dog person...

😡

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor Vs Doggo 🐶 Cannibalism, Vox getting owned by dog

Description: ☝️⬆️

Look, Alastor loves you deeply and would do anything for you, absolutely anything

Except let you have a dog

Absolutely not, he won't have a dog running around in his hotel and creating problems

He can already see it

The dog using the hotel as it's personal bathroom, gnawing on his hooves and ruining all the furniture

Humping everything in sight!!

You can have anything else, you can have Niffty! She makes a good pet don't you think?

No

How about Husk? He's basically a cat

"Fuck you!"

You want a dog, you even have one picked out already

You what? When did you even have time to go look at dogs? He's been purposefully keeping you busy anytime you mention one

The bite marks all over your body are evidence of it

Totally doesn't believe you're actually bringing home a dog until you do, then he's spitting out his tea

"Y/N, darling, what is that?"

"A smoothie."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh this? Our new dog, isn't he cute?"

You can't have a dog in the hotel-

Charlie and everyone else already agreed to it, even Husk said yes just to piss off Alastor

So everyone is on your side and you'll have adequate help, Alastor won't hardly ever even notice the dog

Except he does notice the dog, like all the time

The damned beast is always trying to hop up next to him, only to be shoved off by Alastor

"No furry beasts on the furniture~ The hair is a nightmare to clean up. Disgusting really..."

Not Husk and Angel giving him dirty looks for that one

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to sit next to him, it simply settles for resting by his feet

At least it makes a decent footrest

Or the dog is always hogging your attention, sitting in your lap, laying with you in bed, following you around

How is a man supposed to sleep with his wife when there's some mutt in his spot???

You've caught Alastor glaring at your dog a few times, especially when you're giving him scratches and pets

He wants to be the one to hog your lap and be pampered by you, maybe you could even try giving him a belly rub or two

It certainly looks appealing

Alastor at least thinks he can get time alone with you outside of the hotel but nope, you insist on taking the dog with you

"He needs the fresh air and exercise, Alastor!"

But your husband needs some alone time with you! He's not being dramatic!

Or he's trying to enjoy his breakfast?? Guess who's paws are on the table, begging and slobbering over the idea of a bite

"Absolutely not, you can just forget abou-HEY!"

Looks like his breakfast now belongs to the dog

You definitely make him another breakfast and apologize over and over again

Kiss him and sit in his lap, then maybe he'll consider forgiving you~

Sometimes, when you're sleeping, Alastor and the dog will be locked into a staring match

"I don't like you."

Whine

Rosie tries to sell him on the idea of just maybe liking this one dog, even she's taken a liking to him apparently

Traitor

You make Alastor promise that he won't ever get rid of the dog, OR EAT HIM, OR HURT HIM

And he can't break a promise he made to his darling wife

But he hates this fucking dog with a passion so when the dog suddenly gets out one day? He's perfectly content to let him run off

Until he realizes how upset you would be that your beloved pooch is gone and that gives him pause

Fffffffffuck

Not him spending all day trying to find a dog he doesn't even like, asking everyone if they've seen him

Nope, no, sorry no, ect

Just when Alastor has just about given up and started to contemplate trying to replace the mutt, he hears a familiar yell

"IS THIS DOG FUCKING PISSING ON ME!?"

Vox

Following the sound, Alastor is greeted with the sight of your dog running circles around Vox, who's standing in a puddle with wet pants

For some reason, the delightful mutt has taken to terrorizing him, biting at his limbs only to jump just out of reach of Vox's claws

Maybe it's something he's picked up from Alastor, you certainly didn't teach the dog that

The sight is too funny for Alastor, who doesn't even try to stop the dog, only laughing maniacally

Maybe this mutt isn't so bad

Later, when he comes home with the dog, you notice they seem much fonder of each other

Alastor goes and picks him out a fancy new leash, he starts giving him table scraps and he even invites the dog to be his footrest

Quit putting your feet on my dog

Stop giving the dog fingers!!

You catch him giving the pup a few scratches here and there, almost in an absent-minded manner

He starts calling the dog by his name instead of calling him beast, mutt, hound, monstrosity, ect

He even gives the dog his own room at the hotel with his own fluffy doggy bed

Okay, that last part might just be him wanting his marital bed back

We love dogs in this house!!

[pipperoo]

moments i love in the npmd digital ticket that you don’t see in the pro shot: (feat my bad screenshots/gifs) (under cut bc it's long)

in high school is killing me during the line “problematic pooch” everyone puts up their hands like paws

jason and kyle coming up the aisle and doing the “huh huh!!” during literal monster. and the silly stuff they do in general

max doing a little spin in literal monster at “cross your heart hope to die”

max staring at grace for so long when she first appears and then holding his heart when she walks away after telling him off

everyone fully supporting ruth’s idea of “we’re gonna cut off his nips” except steph who just mouths “what??” in bully the bully

also in bully the bully, pete and richie do the grace spin after they do the finger guns at each other

i have to mention the can that remains on stage for so long because max didn’t throw it into the pit (pete kicking it off at the beginning of go go nighthawks kills!)

max fighting the air and juking around when he’s about to fight pete as the ghost, like he’s going all over the place

grace immediately looking up after max dies

in go go nightwalks, they make an H formation. also just watching steph and pete do the dance is so silly

obviously the nerdy prudes during the interrogation scene where they milk their lines and try to just drag it out

right after the barbecue monologues scene, trevor and angela’s character put their hands on each others shoulders for a second. caitlyn telling joey’s character to stop in that jokey way friends do. trevor kinda giving himself a hard time for screwing up the line

grace falling over in beanies will never stop being iconic

seeing all the lords at once during the summoning will forever be so cool. tinky trying to lure pete over always gets me

pete and steph’s reactions when grace is seducing ghost!max is so funny, they’re so baffled. steph tries to get grace to tell her what’s going on, but grace ignores her

trevor dancing in the corner of homecoming. jason and grace talking in the corner. trevor perking up when the best of you starts to play. grace and bailey doing a little point at each other as the song starts

grace’s dress swishing in dirty dudes must die

the reactions of the crowd during dirty girl, just for once, when shapiro hands grace her wwjd bracelet, at the reveal that grace gave up what she cherished most, and when grace pulls out the book at the end. the gasps are so funny. just the crowd in general, the reactions for the little references are just the best

that’s definitely more, but this is what i remember for now

[ladielovette]

introducing... clumsy!reader

as you can see.. she's clumsy. "pooch". boba. cuddly. john b's lovebug. basically only eats chicken nuggets. actually has some money cause she keeps jobs. dirty converse. calls jb 'sugar' naps anywhere. rarely ever seen without one of the pogues. she's friends with rafe for some reason. piggy back rides from jj. her favorite place to be is a zoo. not sleep in airbnbs. always has a milkshake for some reason. her bag is literally mary poppins'. signature song is "there she goes by the la's.". spa days with sarah and kie. attempts to surf with jj. ends up having to go fishing instead. falls into the water. makes snowmen. you'll probably find her under a blanket. hugs over kisses.

"that's pooch, you probably won't hear anyone call her anything else. when she's not having a girls day with kie and sarah, fishing with ji, or attempting to fly, she's with me, attached to my hip ever since we were 8. she's the clumsiest person you'll ever meet, tripping over everything. but she's also the sweetest person ever, she'll buy you food when your broke, pep talk you when your sad, and hug you just because, not saying this cause i'm biased! saying it cause it's true."

brandy babbling: this is her intro, chat is this kinda a boring post?

divider creds:

@dollywons

@issysh3ll

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Deadpool Headcanons: I "FULLY SUPPORT" THIS (RUN!!!) (Marvel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am The Yandere Specialist and no I am not being held hostage by Deadpool to make sure that you become his darling, I am not in danger at all!!! Hehehe! Anyway, let me sell you on why Deadpool is the right man for you! Now let's do this, enjoy it!]  (Side Note This was multiple Traits of Deadpool From Various Deadpools Across the Multiverse and Media) 

(Disclaimer: Deadpool is not yandere in canon, and he is such a great guy in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters, and yanderes, and Deadpool, but mainly Deadpool, is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it, You know who you are! You Dirty Flaky Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life, but Deadpool is an ideal partner in real life. Remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)  -Base Yandere Headcanons With Deadpool From Movies Mainly!- 

.Deadpool is a very good man, he is good with kids and he is very sweet.  .He is also very good in bed.  (Come on Wade this is going to get me canceled... Fine...) 

.He also would be willing to do almost anything with you in the bedroom. 

.He fell for you right away and he knew that he wanted you as his partner, for you to be his one and only. 

.Deadpool is also Pansexual in Canon! He does not care what parts you have, what you were born as, or what gender you feel you are!  .He adores you and will have you as his and his alone he will make sure of that! 

.Of course, he would be the best husband you could ever ask for and make you tons of chimichangas.  .This man would kill for you that is a fact (SMACK) BUT it is for your own protection of course. 

(you did not have to hit me you jerk)  .He is the type of yandere that is going to deal with rivals by first trying to get them to leave you alone, maybe with a few minor gunshot wounds and threats to their life. 

.If They do not back off he will shoot them in either the tit and or crouch.  .He is going to make sure that they screwed the pooch when they tried to take you from him, he will not regret doing it either. 

.He would probably make them regret ever even looking at you. 

.He would mock them for even thinking of trying to be with you. 

.He is going to mocl his rivals one hundred percent. 

.He also can bend and break the fourth wall... Which he may or may not be doing right now and influencing these headcanons. 

(OW! I said he may or MAY NOT! ASSHAT)  .He is a very sweet man for the most part, but oh, oh boy is he possessive and protective. 

.If anyone was to hurt you, the love of his life. He would make sure that every single one of them was dead, including him. 

.He would not be able to kill himself though so if you did die he would find a way to bring you back somehow, because he just would, don't ask questions. 

(Yes, Wade! I know that is just lazy writing to say just because! Who is the author/content creator here!? Yeah that is right, me so hush up!) 

.Now where were we? Ah Yes, Deadpool would also be the most chaotic Yandere ever. 

.He would never hurt you, but he would hurt rivals and such. 

.This bro has no chill as a yandere. 

.He would be the type to break rivals's bones on a wimb. 

.Not to mention mess with them. 

.He is going to be the type to make sure no one fucks around because they would for sure find out. 

.He is the yandere that would go to such lengths to have a long life with you, even risking his life. 

(Do not question the logic, Wade, you are legit insane!) .He would confess to you in a cheesy but romantic way, and also it would not fully be planned. 

.Not all the time at least. He would have a higher chance to do it on an impulse with a candy pop ring. 

.Which is kind of sweet if you ask me. You have to love Wade aka the Deadpool man.  (Yes, Wade, I love you no shush, do not make this weird) ..He also would want to have a family with you. If you have a uterus be ready for a good impregnation. 

.And if you have no uterus or you do not want to carry a pregnancy. You can expect him to come home with a baby. 

.Where did he get the baby? 

.He won't tell you! He won't tell me! There is just going to be one random ass baby in your home and you will be a mama a daddy or a zazzeh (like daddy but with Z another gender-neutral term Zazzah like a mama with Z) Depending on what you want to be called, but you will be a parent.  .And by the slight chance that you did not want kids, he is going to get a Landshark for you to have as your Landshark baby. 

(Which Deadpool agrees that is the superior choice and I mean he is not wrong! Landshark baby is the best baby) 

.If you accept his love, he will be over the room and you can count on doing the devil tango right then and there. 

(Wade I hope you did not propose to them in public... I am not held responsible for your indecent exposure to (Name) OR THE OBSCENE PDA YOU TWO DO!!!) 

.If you turned him down? He would throw said ring pop over his shoulder, and act like he was messing with you. 

.But he is not going to give up. 

.He is not going to kidnap you, but he is going to start stalking you (which he already did, Wade said I may have forgotten to mention that he has been stal- OW Okay okay... Watching over you!) 

.So he would increase watching over you. To see where he went wrong. 

.He would also be interrogating so many of your friends and family. 

.To see if you were seeing someone else or if someone was blackmailing you, he is doing his best to watch over you all the time. 

.So that he can get rid of anyone who is hurting you. (DO NOT LISTEN TO THAT HE IS TRYING TO GET RID OF HIS RIVA- OW OW OW OK Ok! OK! I will drop it!) 

.In the end, he is one of the better- (Okay Wade, you don't have to point a gun at me) one of the BEST Yanderes to have. 

I fully support you ending up with Wade and saying yes to his love!  .You two are meant to be and would be very happy together, trust me (NO RUN MUFFIN RUN!)  [YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, Another this chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins! 

[pigeonwhumps]

Bruises

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Whumpuary day 21: bruises | "who are you?" | immortality

After being isolated and treated as a punching bag for far too long, Whumpee runs to the only place they hope they might be able to find safety.

1.7k

CWs: bruises, isolation, team whump, arguments, used as a punching bag, abuse, touch-starved

Whumpee knocks on the small metal door weakly, hand dropping to their side after three small knocks. They stand as upright as possible, hand on the wall to help, arm trembling under the weight, and hope it's enough.

The door opens after what feels like both a minute and an eternity, and Caretaker's there, seemingly unchanged after all this time in her ink-covered dungarees, hair braided and pulled back. She blinks at them, at their bruises and blood, at the patched drawstring bag over one shoulder and their scruffy, dirty clothes and shoes. They blink back, almost too tired to be embarrassed. Almost. How much of a mess must they look in her eyes?

"Whumpee?"

"You said once," they croak, "that if I needed someplace to crash then I could, no questions asked. Does that offer still stand?"

A million emotions flash through Caretaker's eyes at once, and Whumpee can't hope to make out what they are. Then she nods and steps aside.

"Honestly I was more thinking at home, it's more comfortable there, but sure. I have an armchair and snacks. Come on in."

Whumpee ducks their head and limps inside. They'd be happy naked on a cold metal floor so long as Whumper's not there. And she's not, would never be, because the whole reason Caretaker made the offer in the first place was because she didn't trust Whumper, didn't like her. It was why they fought.

She has every reason to say 'I told you so' and probably just as many ways to realise that, but she's not.

Caretaker's studio is nice. The old warehouse it's a part of isn't disguised entirely, old pipes and brickwork visible. Her rented space contains a sewing machine, cutting mat, screen printing press, inks and fabrics and threads of all colours and types, everything Whumpee would expect to see here, had they ever bothered to visit. They clutch the corded handle of their bag tightly. It's their most treasured possession, and this is where it's from.

Caretaker waves a hand in the direction of the armchair. "Get comfy. There's the sink if you need it, and the toilet's at the end of the hall. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Whumpee nods gratefully, waiting until Caretaker's left again before cleaning their hands and face, changing into fleecy pyjamas and curling up on the armchair, Teddy in hand. They avoid looking at themself while they do all of this, their appearance not something they want to dwell on. They must be making the furniture dirty, surely, but Caretaker told them to sit so she can't mind too much.

That makes a change. A change from being somewhere where they apparently matter less than everyone else, everything else, where they're so easy to dismiss that–

They swallow a sob, swallow it right down, keeping their emotions clenched tight inside. Caretaker doesn't need to see this, especially not when it's all their own stupid, naïve fault. Can't see what's right in front of their face sometimes, she said, and she was right. The bruises and cuts all down one side of their body from the last time they were dragged across the floor are proof of that. Fucking hell.

They close their eyes.

Next thing they know, someone's shaking their shoulder, setting their body throbbing. They snap their eyes open as Caretaker's hand withdraws.

Ow.

"Sorry. You still sleep like the dead. You also look like hell, so I've brought you a cup of tea, a pot noodle and some biscuits. Relax. You don't have to tell me what happened, I meant that, but I have some plasters and stuff if you need them?" Whumpee shakes their head. They're not going to use everything of Caretaker's when they can't even replace it, this is already way too much. "Okay. Well, drink, eat, sleep, whatever you need to do. I'll– I'll be here. This time. Okay?"

"It wasn't your fault last time," Whumpee whispers. They'd walked out on Caretaker, not the other way round.

Caretaker hums non-committally, in that way that means she disagrees but doesn't want to risk starting an argument, and Whumpee sighs, sipping at their tea with shaking hands. Chamomile, their favourite. They don't want an argument either. Everything has already hurt more than enough recently.

They eat half of the pot noodle without taking a breath. Then they force themself to put it down and look up at Caretaker, who has a concerned frown on her face as she works, sketching in her book.

"You were right. She was awful."

Caretaker looks up. "Whumper?"

Whumpee nods. All those awful things they'd yelled at Caretaker, because they were stupid and starstruck and couldn't see what was right in front of them. And they can't even excuse any of it, because she was right, entirely right, and she's just let them right back in like the last thing they saw wasn't her looking so completely crestfallen.

"I'm sorry, Caretaker. I was horrible to you and you just... you're too good." Too good for them, too good for this world.

She smiles bitterly. "I wasn't entirely innocent in that fight. You always act like I'm either one or the other. That fight was awful, on both sides, but we're here now. Water under the bridge. Okay?"

"Okay."

"For the record, I did hope I was wrong."

Whumpee nods and dives into the remainder of their pot noodle. Better eat now, while they can. Caretaker goes back to drawing at her standing desk.

After a while, they take a sip of their tea. "It was okay at first. Good, even. She was my mentor. I did what she said, I learned, I got to socialise with her and the rest of her team. I helped. It felt good. But then she... I don't know when it started but..."

They trail off. They don't know when Whumper started using her as a punching bag. It wasn't immediately, but then the tasks got harder and the punishments got harsher and Whumper got angrier and they were isolated and then there they were, a convenient punching bag and... other things. Worse things.

"I couldn't tell. Who would I tell? How would I tell? She threatened me. Threatened you. But I– I– it hurt so much, Caretaker."

"She's the one who left you like this?"

Whumpee nods. It's not the worst they've been, but they don't say that, not trying to garner unmerited sympathy from Caretaker. It's their own fault.

"I'm glad you got out of there."

"She's not the reason it hurt so much."

Caretaker cocks her head in concern. "Her team?"

Whumpee nods. Stops to take a long drink and sinks into their seat, wrapping their arms around themself. This is a lot to think about.

They don't know why they're talking, but they are, and that means thinking about it. About what happened, about everything. And that hurts. It's embarrassing, too, they should've guessed. Caretaker did.

They thought the team was just oblivious. Now they're not so sure.

"My first complaint... it didn't... I made everything worse even when I chickened out. Whumper knew I was going to, even though I didn't. And then I tried again through proper channels and it... Team Leader... he already knew. He asked me to... I showed him! And I got suspended when I wouldn't withdraw it. And Whumper... she... I was stupid, I stayed, I thought I could survive it, I thought I'd be fine but she... and now I'm just a coward. What if she hurts someone else? Or if she makes good on her threat against you? I thought she couldn't but..."

Caretaker stares for a moment and then grins cockily. "Come on Whumpee, you know what I used to do for a living, I'll be fine."

"Don't. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Stop acting like it's all fine. It's not, and you don't know that it'll be okay! This isn't an assassination and even if it was you remember how we met! Stop trying to– to– stop lying to me!"

Whumpee takes a deep breath, trying to calm themself. They're not being fair, they know that. She's trying to help. They just– how can she pretend it's all okay when it's so very not?

"Sorry."

Caretaker shakes her head. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm being a bit flippant. But I will be okay. I'll make sure of it, I promise."

"You'd better."

Whumpee shifts, wincing. Curling up so tight hurts, tugging and pushing at the bruises and burns and cuts, but it's safer. No way to kick your chest in if they can't get to it.

"Are you sure you don't at least want painkillers?"

They shake their head. No drugs. No forced weakness and compliance. No weird hallucinations. No... god knows what. Not today.

"Okay. Try to sleep. If I'm not here when you wake don't panic, I just need to sort some things."

Despite the matter-of-fact soothing layered on top, Whumpee knows that tone of voice, all impending action. And they know what she's planning to do. They look Caretaker directly in the eyes.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Caretaker."

She looks taken aback for a moment at their sudden fierceness but then gives a toothy grin, like a predator that's scented blood.

"Oh, who says I'd regret it?"

"I mean just don't– don't get yourself hurt. She's dangerous."

"I know that. So am I." She must see something in Whumpee's bruised and battered face because she softens, tucking her pencil behind her ear and crossing the room to crouch in front of them. Broadcasting her every move, she presses a soft kiss to their forehead. "It was my job for thirty years. It's just a relief to find someone that I'm happy to use my skills on."

Caretaker rests her hands on their upper arms and they lean into the touch, despite the pain at the pressure. Tears prick at their eyes. This warm closeness without malicious intent... it's been too long.

"If you get yourself captured or killed I will bring you back from the depths of Hell and skin you alive for doing that to me. So don't. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Whumpee glares half-heartedly. "I promise."

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Eddie’s never this late.

He’s usually pretty washy when it comes to being places on time — always either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, never anything between — but Gareth’s legs are actually getting sore from standing at this point.

He glances at his watch every so often, looking up and down the street for any sign of the van approaching. A couple of times, he’s considered walking to the nearest pay phone about a block or so away.

But no fucking way he’s leaving his drum kit on the curb unattended.

As if Eddie would pick up the phone anyway.

The owner of the music store has come out twice now to check in on him. Offered to have one of his guys load the stuff up for him, but Gareth declined as graciously as he could while trying to hide his festering irritation.

He saved up for months to be able to afford all of this new equipment, he absolutely cannot pay to have it delivered.

It irks him even more the closer that Eddie gets to being almost an hour late.

Just when he’s about completely fed up, having downed the entire bottle of water that Harold was generous enough to gift him, a vehicle turns down the street. For a moment, Gareth is overwhelmed by a blend of relief and rage, stepping up to the edge of the curb, but those feelings quickly fade.

Rather than the van, it’s a truck.

Gareth’s heart drops, and as it gets closer, he hopes to god that it’s still Eddie behind the wheel. When the truck pulls up to the curb, his hopes vanish.

The engine dies, and the driver side door opens. Heavy footsteps scrape the pavement, rounding the truck, and Hargrove comes to stand beside the collection of equipment.

His expression is blank. He’s clad in rough denim jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of work boots to match. There’s a layer of grime on him that says he’s been doing something all day, likely outside, if the dirtied stains on the knees of his pant legs say anything.

For a guy from the city, he sure looks like every other ranch hand around here. The only things he’s missing are a can of dip denting his back pocket and a hat.

It’s quiet between the two of them for a beat. Gareth doesn’t know what to do or say — he’s only ever been in Hargrove’s company when other people are around.

And that was intentional.

The blond nods at the stuff on the curb and clicks his tongue.

“This everything?” he asks.

Gareth nods. Watches as Hargrove wordlessly circles to the back of his truck and drops the tailgate.

He immediately begins grabbing things, and Gareth steps out of his way. Watches as he carefully loads a few things into the bed, grabbing the larger ones first.

“You, uh,” Gareth begins. He clears his throat when Hargrove glances over at him. “Want me to help?”

At that, the blond huffs a little laugh to himself.

“Not gonna break your fancy drum set,” he says.

Gareth opens his mouth, and then promptly closes it. Furrows his brows and looks off down the street.

Everyone else seems to click with this guy. Even Grant and Jeff, after a while.

Not that Gareth necessarily wants to.

He just doesn’t understand why he quite literally can’t.

Eddie and even Steve have tried to explain to him that Hargrove is just tough — he’s not the type to wanna sit around and gush about niche interests, and he’s fairly blunt when he talks.

For some reason, everything the guy does and says just rubs Gareth the wrong way. He would say he doesn’t get why his partners are into him, but that would be a complete lie.

Hargrove is hot.

He’s thicker now than he was in high school. His arms are bigger, veinier closer to his wrists, and he’s got the faintest hint of chub on his stomach. Enough to pooch out a little over the lip of his jeans when he bends over to grab things.

It’s overwhelmingly obvious that he’s a man, and not a boy. A man with perfect blond curls and broad shoulders and the visible trace of scruff on his neck.

Of course he has two other guys drooling over him constantly.

Gareth himself tries not to look at him too much for fear of heat rising to the surface of his skin. Especially when he’s doing anything physical like this.

Once everything is loaded and the tailgate is shut, Hargrove straps the few larger things down, and steps up on the tire at each side to check and make sure everything is held sturdily enough in place before he hops down.

Wordlessly walks back to the front of the truck and climbs behind the wheel again.

Gareth hesitates, but opens the passenger side door and joins him in the cab.

The blond starts the engine, and the stereo immediately blasts Tooth and Nail by Dokken. He reaches out to turn the dial down a hint, sighing as he puts the truck in drive.

Gareth stares out his window as they pull away from the music shop.

“Why didn’t Eddie show up?” he asks.

Keeps his voice even so as not to let on how irritated he is. It works, for the most part, because Hargrove blows a raspberry and rests his elbow against the door panel.

“We got caught up trying to figure out why his van wouldn’t start, and when he realized he was late, he—“ Hargrove cuts himself off with a chuckle, an easy smile pulling at his lips. “He tripped up the porch steps. Started whining about having a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, and asked me to come pick you up.”

Gareth huffs.

“Figures.”

At that, Hargrove’s smile dims.

“Would’ve been worse if he’d shown up and been a drama queen the whole time, trust me.”

“It’s not that,” Gareth grumbles.

For a stretch of the street they’re driving down, only the music fills the silence between them. Hargrove’s grip on the wheel tightens.

“Well, I could’a said no, and you’d’ve been stuck on the curb all day. I’m not exactly thrilled about it either.”

His voice is lower. Testy. Like when he argues with Max or Steve and can no longer hide his blooming irritation.

Eddie has this way of making Hargrove laugh when things get too tense. Never lets the blond’s tone get under his skin no matter what they’re talking about, and takes it upon himself to lighten the mood.

Gareth wishes he was less easily affected like that.

“Didn’t have to come,” Gareth huffs. “I could’ve figured it out.”

Even out of the corner of his eye, he can see the angry red that creeps up Hargrove’s neck and pops the veins in his forehead.

Despite not having done anything remotely violent in recent years, Gareth still feels a small spike of anxiety at witnessing his little tells. Leans closer to the door and keeps careful attention.

After a tense moment, Hargrove takes a calming breath and sighs heavily. Relaxes his grip on the wheel and shifts in his seat, loosening up.

“I’m doing this for Eddie. Not you,” he says. “I don’t typically do free labor for people who hate my guts.”

Gareth’s brows draw closer together.

“I don’t… hate you.”

At the words, the blond chuckles, but it isn’t a happy sound.

“What’s your fuckin’ deal, then?”

“I don’t know. Nothing,” Gareth huffs. “Everything.”

“Well, which is it? You act like I’m some comic book villain when I can’t recall ever having done anything to you personally.”

Now, Gareth chuckles.

“Personally,” he murmurs. He takes a risk and turns to fully look at Hargrove, expecting to see more of that rage bloom on his skin again. Instead, he looks dejected. Sad, with his mouth pinched in a subtle frown, and his eyes vacant. Gareth sighs. “Look, it’s not… I don’t hate you. I just don’t get you, I guess? Plus, before you and Steve, Eddie used to actually care about doing shit with his friends. Today is a good example.”

After a moment of processing, Hargrove purses his lips.

“Edd cares. He’s just a little messy with his priorities — if he’d told Stevie that he was supposed to pick you up, he would’ve made sure everything happened on time.”

Gareth huffs. Slouches in his seat and props his elbow against the door, leaning his cheek against his hand.

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Who do you think plans all of your game nights?”

The brunet makes a face, and Hargrove chuckles again. Softer this time. Amused.

“Eddie’s always planned for that, though. Before he got with Steve.”

“Being in a club with a fixed schedule is very different than organizing things with complete flexibility,” Hargrove muses. Smiles to himself as he thinks briefly. “My point is that he does care. He’s also just… Eddie.” The two of them share a chuckle, and Gareth tenses when Billy playfully elbows him. “I promise I’m not stealing him from you.”

Instantly, Gareth’s face heats up, and he blows a raspberry in dismissal.

“Never said you were.”

“But you were thinkin’ it.”

With no valid argument, Gareth pouts. Crosses his arms over his chest and looks back out the window.

They’re only a few streets away from his place. That has his body welling with relief.

“Also,” Billy begins. “There’s nothing to get.”

Gareth glances back over at the blond.

“What?”

“About me. There’s nothing to get.”

“I mean—“ Gareth pauses, frustration building in his throat at the lack of proper words. Decides instead to gesture vaguely at Billy with his hand. “You’re not exactly an open book. I don’t think we’ve ever really even talked before today.”

“I know I’m not the most approachable guy, but you’ve never exactly tried to strike up a conversation with me before today.”

“That’s a two-way street,” Gareth grumbles.

Billy sighs.

“When you’re around, Eddie’s happy, and I don’t wanna ruin that because you and I don’t click for whatever stupid reason.” He shrugs nonchalantly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel absently. “So I don’t make an effort to talk.”

The for Eddie goes unspoken at the end, but it’s thick in the air regardless. Gareth spreads a knowing grin, and Billy gives him a look out of the corner of his eye.

“So, Hargrove does have feelings.”

The blond tsks.

“Who said I didn’t?”

“No one. You’re just like if a stone wall was a person, is all.”

Billy giggles at that. Not laughs. Not chuckles. Giggles.

It’s a very not manly sound and has Gareth spreading a sort of bewildered grin upon hearing it, while also serving to chip the lingering intimidation away.

“I am not,” Billy muses.

“Yes huh. With barbed wire at the top, spikes at the bottom, and maybe even a mote with alligators up front.”

“Mm, and what makes you say that?”

The question makes Gareth think for a beat. They’re nearing his street now, and he sighs as he shrugs half-heartedly. Gestures at Billy lamely with his hand and earns a quirked eyebrow.

“I dunno. You’re… you, I guess.” The truck pulls up to the curb in front of Gareth’s house, and Billy throws it in park. Doesn’t take the key out of the ignition or move to open his door just yet. “Like some heavily guarded fortress at the top of a hill, overlooking a tiny village with no line of defense.”

The brunet presses his lips into a line. Doesn’t bother looking at the other seat out of embarrassment.

Billy is quiet. Then, he clicks his tongue and shifts idly in his seat, hand still on the wheel.

“I’m not really big on mystical analogies, but…” he begins with a sigh. “I’m more like the princess at the top of the tower, stuck in the fortress. Guarded by a fire-breathing dragon.” Billy drums his fingers against the steering wheel before he lets his hand drop to his lap. “There’s something to be said about Eddie and Steve being some knights in shining armor or something, but I think you get it.”

They sit there for a handful of seconds. Gareth mulls it over, thinks about what to say, but before he can open his mouth, Billy kills the engine. Pushes his door open and climbs out.

The truck jostles when he drops the tailgate, and Gareth hesitates before he gets out as well.

This time, rather than stand by and watch, he helps move everything from the bed to the garage. It goes by quicker, at least, that’s how it feels when they’re finally finished. Billy tosses the straps into the back of the truck and shuts the tailgate, cracking his knuckles absently.

“You need help setting anything up?” he offers.

Gareth shoves his hands into his pockets and glances over his shoulder into his garage.

“Nah, I got it from here,” he says. “Thanks.”

Billy nods.

“Anytime.”

He knocks lightly on his truck before he goes to walk back to the driver’s seat. Gareth chews his lip.

“See ya, princess.”

At that, Billy giggles again. Climbs into the front seat and starts it up. Then he’s driving away, music blasting, and Gareth turns to walk up the length of his driveway.

He’s still irritated about the events of today, but he’s a little relieved, too.

Because maybe Hargrove isn’t all that bad.

[dresden-syndrome]

8/VII-1965. EESU State Security department.

Today there was unusually cold outside - Radim could tell that by drops of rain banging on every window and the little breezes sending shivers down his skin. He was serving another punishment, sitting on the cold hallway floor, strapped to a pipe by a short chain. To him it was a lighter one, an easy one - Radim was almost thankful to get this instead of anything worse.

Two hours ago Erhardt grabbed his arm too forcefully near the office door, clenching his fingers right on the spot of a really painful bruise. Radim wasn't ready for it - the tugging pain on his wrist along with being pulled around like a rag doll was too much to handle. He twitched his arm, pushed himself to get away, struggled to free himself from the grip, making Erhardt pin him down to the floor with even more force.

It took a few minutes for comrade Gunther to hold Radim down until he stopped fighting. A few minutes of delight to watch his pet squirm under his hands. Angry, rebellious, disobedient, defiant, powerless. Hissing in a futile attempt to turn around, glaring at him from below while Erhardt didn't even make a move.

"I know, kitten. I know you don't like being held like that," - he started in a condescending tone, "Shh, calm down. You know it's all for nothing".

When Radim finally stopped struggling, his owner freed his hands, grabbed him by the collar and dragged across the hall. Then Radim was roughly pushed into the corner, a chain got attached to his collar and locked around the pipe.

"You remember what I've told you about fighting. Now sit there and think about your behavior. We'll have to talk about it once more when I come back."

As Radím sat on the cold dirty floor, hugging his knees to keep himself warm, he wondered, where would he better be? Where did he rather want to be? Shivering from the chill wind reaching the corner, he hugged himself tighter, wishing for a blanket, a cup of tea, a ray of sun for a brief moment of warmth. Dozens of officers have walked through the room, throwing condescending looks on him, "the Comrade Minister's pet" as they said about him, some stopped to stroke his face, touch his old leather collar or just stand there straight, enjoying the sight of a "people's enemy" left to freeze down in the corner. That's what Radím was - a people's enemy, even in the uniform, trained for simple department work. It's the law: once a traitor, forever a traitor. Traitors don't get blankets or hot tea. Nobody's here to risk getting scolded by the boss for messing up his pet's punishment.

The cold was getting worse, the discomfort turned into pain Radím restlessly tried to soothe by moving his aching legs side to side. He couldn't stand up or turn around - the chain attached to his collar was way too short for it. He pushed his neck one time. Another. The chain didn't move. Desperate to move away from the corner, even a bit, Radim leaned to the wall, his hands now reached the collar in an attrmpt to tear it down. No, no way. It hurts. His neck hurts, his hands hurt. The collar is too strong to break. He starts to fight, again. And stops, again. It's all for nothing.

Day 8 of Whumptober

Prompt: "It's all for nothing"

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump

[firstprince-ao3feed]

hold me and explore me

by toadsdrool day seven: graves // "hey look at me" “A fucking masterpiece. God, look at how perfect your belly is.” Alex’s hand came around to lift the pooch, making Henry gasp and squeeze his thighs together. He didn’t want to admit how hard the small action made him. “You’re a fucking feast for the eyes, sweet thing.” “Relationship weight, ” Bea had called it. “Happy weight,” June had said. Then Nora had added, “Statistically couples gain about seventeen pounds within one year of finding love.” Henry had read another study that said men in their early twenties gained two stone after their first year together. No matter how average, or normal, Henry couldn’t get past the fact that they had noticed.  Henry puts on some weight and Alex is kind of obsessed with it. Words: 2181, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of tied me to you (firstprince week 2024) Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Chubby Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Weight Gain, Location: Brooklyn Brownstone (Red White & Royal Blue), Established Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Body Image, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, Mirror Sex, Dirty Talk via https://ift.tt/Vjwxy4I

[silver-wield]

No aris scene feels like she actually loves and cares about Cloud, she feels more like those big ego women showing their face and a product, but clearly more interested in their face.

She's literally self serving and only cares about what she can get out of him. He's just a dummy stand in for Zack, but that doesn't make it okay. She's treating him and people who she says are friends like shit all for some nostalgic gratification and then wondering why Cloud gives her dirty looks.

There ain't no redeeming her shit behaviour. The devs fucked the pooch on that one.

[lurkiestvoid]

HILL HOUSE CLAN COMMUNITY CATS UPDATES: it's not going great :(

The Okay News:

ANOTHER new orange cat we haven't seen before!! Again!! and this boy is HUGE and built like a BOULDER and I'm calling him Ahnold.

I couldn't get a good pic but his jowls are omg so big. Unlike Old Man (paler, scruffier, not bulky) and Shorttail (short tail, dangly belly pooch, not bulky) His LEGS and TAIL and SHOULDERS are SO CHONKY he's like an old lil bodybuilder. And he hoovered up huge mouthfuls of kibble at a time like a backhoe.

The Bad News:

- Old Man has not been seen, that we know of, for roughly a week or two. This is sometimes normal, we go periods without seeing some of them and then they turn up, but with his Apparent Age and the predators we can't help but worry.

- Buddy has been mauled. We don't know when and we're not fully sure which cat.

- He has a weeping, deep puncture wound on his flank right by his tail, looks like teeth. Big chunk of fur missing.

- His poor face :( his nose is all scratched up and he has a big gash under his right eye, which he's mostly holding closed.

- He has become much more skittish and (imo) seems to have lost weight.

- the second he saw this guy eating he BOLTED. This is entirely unlike him, he's usually somewhat cautious and very quick to just Submit, and just keeps his distance until it's his turn, but this time he was scared.

- We haven't seen him much the last day or two outside of this, so we don't know if he's reacting to all the other kitties like this, or just Ahnold. He did freeze and tense when he saw Shorttail (unusual) but didn't bolt like with Ahnold.

- we think possibly this newcomer is the one who hurt him, but Ahnold very much looks Not New to the Streets. We're not sure where he came from nor when, but he likely wasn't recently dumped like some of the others.

- I'm gonna try and get pictures of both Buddy and Ahnold tomorrow in the daylight, if I see them.

- We don't know what to do, and we DEFINITELY do not have the funds to get Buddy any kind of help. we can barely afford to just feed them all and the neighbors aren't really interested so far in helping, though a couple others have also been leaving out food.

The ???? news:

- The cats aren't eating as much and haven't been coming around as much, and we don't know why.

- Maybe they've got lots more folks feeding them now? But several of them look like they've lost weight this week, including Buddy before he was attacked.

- Normally we fill the tray in the morning and it's gone by nightfall, which worked out to cut down on raccoons and mice; now they maybe eat only half the tray? And the raccoons finish it off (and dirty up the water washing it lol) after midnight.

- ????

- The plan was to get them used to Morning Feedings and to hopefully gather them more often this way, to better identify/count them and start figuring out how to get them help. Something has disrupted this and we don't know what

- We don't think Ahnold is keeping the other cats away from the food since we only saw him for the first time this evening, but we can't be 100% sure and we're not outside all the time.

- ????????????????????????? it's free fuckin food where did everybody go

[innb33tween]

Homeless. Disconnected. Broke. Hungry. Cold. Tired. Alone(except the pooch). Lost. Confused. Suicidal. Angry. Dirty. In Pain - jaw(need medical care. ER discharged me BC there's no one to watch the pup {SD(NES), but lately IDK what to call her because she's had to stop people from trying to sneak up on me(I've had stalkers), in the dark, or try to get into my "tent" at night), foot, neck, sternum(fractured in July), upper back, legs, chest, head. I'm always in pain. I'm on meds that are slowly dwindling. 10 yrs on a narcotic for my pain, and I have a few days left. Oh well. I'll figure it out. I've heard withdrawal sucks. I'm just scared of the pain. I carry the essentials around everywhere I go. I leave my sleeping gear where I'm staying the night, but in constant fear of it being stolen. I mean, I'll "survive" without it, but it'll be hell. The nights are cold. But I can't carry everything all day. I'm not strong enough, and it hurts. We're both hungry. We've been surviving off a 24-hr food cupboard at the church where I can sometimes get a shower. I got one today after a week. Then, there were crackers and PB&J, so I ate. And I felt SO much better. We've both lost weight. The skin on my belly is saggy. Is that what getting old is, or will it go away with time? I've heard it's from dropping weight too quickly. Whoops. We average 10 miles a day, sometimes with only a can of veggies to eat. Even when we have more, it's not enough. I'm always hungry. But there's a big difference between being so hungry that you're not sure if you're legs will make it any further, and you're going to drop or just being grumpy because you want a chinese buffet, taco bell, a triple berry frosty from Wendy's, a reg chicken sandwich from BK, a vanilla and a strawberry shake from Mcd's(both large) and an ice cream cone, PLUS - to dine in a NICE restaurant with melt-in-your-mouth steak, home fries, free refills and frozen margarita, and dessert(S)! Before getting a shower and food, I wanted to stab my pocket knife into my wrist and stain the ground red with anger. Now, I'm still hungry, but not suicidal. The night before, I walked around praying someone would look at me and just offer me food. I wish people saw what I needed when they looked at me. I'm just "that homeless girl with the "vicious" dog." Also, I was sweaty, and I smelled. That's what I hated. I felt like everyone who looked at me could see how filthy I felt. I hate that my self-worth depends on these things. That's probably because most of the constant adults in my life never wanted me to have any. It makes it easier to control, manipulate, and abuse you. You don't fight back as much. You don't tell because you think that no one else cares. But I told. And told and told and told and told and told and told and told.... And now, I'm "missing". I left. I packed up what I could carry and started walking. I made it a little ways south, to another town I'm sort of familiar with and learning quickly. A map and a heavy bag teach quickly. I cannot access my FB, Gmail, I have no phone, no money, no bank account, no resources, no one to lean on. I have a pair of jeans, leggings, capris, shorts, a shirt, a tank top, an under shirt, 3 pairs of socks, 3 bras, flip-flops, and shoes that have a hole(and stink). The blister sucks. I have 3 hoodies. And all of it is filthy. I have a blanket, a tarp, and a shower curtain to try to keep warm. I use a poncho, too. I have a towel and wash cloth and soap, conditioner, tooth paste, tooth brush, and some misc hygiene products. I have a small propane tank, can opener, spoon, fork, knife, cup, and aluminum can. I have a bat. I have a few other things, too. I still have a working Fitbit. That's life. I have a power bank. Headphones for music at the library because music is life for me, and I miss it so much. But, I've dropped a lot. Carry your shit around for a while, and you'll learn what's important or essential. But I'm on a mission.....