hi hey hi

bailey | 24 | blue65 on ao3

[blueangelbby]

hi hello & welcome!

bailey/blue (she/her, whatever) | gemini | 25 | lmao

blue65 on ao3

minors dni & republicans dni

Requests are open!

Please try not to let it be too long or tumblr will eat the ask!

Typically takes 2-5 days for me to respond. If I am uncomfy with it, I won't answer but shoot your shot babes 🪽💙

INSULIN ACT - CONTACT YOUR REPS

[entropicquilibriumofchaos]

Canine shifter!Dennis who grew up being told that shifters are inherently sinful, are demons that walk in the earth. Dennis, who shifts for the first time in the quiet of the barn in the dead of night and knows that if anyone in Broken Bow finds out about him he'll be ostracized or killed so he keeps it a secret while praying every day to be "cured" of his disease.

And so he shifts only when it becomes physically painful not to, and always out of sight of anyone else. He manages to graduate high school, and then college without anyone finding out. He starts med school and meets other shifters who seem... comfortable with who they are. Proud even. But not Dennis. He knows that being a shifter is a death sentence for him, even if it isn't for these other people.

When Dennis is called home for the summer to help with the farm, he doesn't think twice about it. He returns to Broken Bow and keeps his head low until one night, a rustling on the front porch wakes him up, and apparently his father as well. The two of them are greeted with a fawn, splay legged on the wooden beams of the porch, panting and scrambling against the slick surface. Before their eyes, they watch as the fawn shifts into a young girl. Dennis' heart lurches as he hears his father rack the shotgun in his hands, the barrel coming up in his peripheral vision as his father recites verses from the Bible.

It's instinct rather than conscious decision that causes Dennis to shift right then, leaping at his father and knocking the gun out of his hands. Dennis doesn't hurt him, no he would never- he's still his father. He just meant to distract him for long enough for the girl to get away. And he did, the tell-tale white flag of a retreating white-tailed deer fading into the forest across the field.

But now, he's on his own. His father wrangles Dennis onto his back, and he feels the cold metal of the shotgun’s muzzle against his belly. He knows he only has one option. He throws himself away from the gun and across the porch, leaping off as soon as he’s on all four paws. He hears the shot gun go off, and somewhere in his mind registers the searing pain in one of his ears where the edge of the cone of bird shot clipped him.

And so Dennis runs. He spends more time as a dog than a human as he flees, riding in open train cars for as long as he can before being spotted. It's been months, maybe even a year at this point. It gets harder and harder to shift back into being a human; his body knows that it's safer for him in his canine form, his reflexes are quicker, his senses sharper. It's those traits that allow him to hear the group gathered around the park benches before he sees them.

It's late, the sun had gone down hours ago. The darkness didn't faze Dennis anymore, it was easier to move in the dark, especially in the city. The park he was in had been a nice reprieve from the cement and asphalt of the rest of the city- Pittsburgh, if the ambulances and cop cars were to be believed. The group had settled down onto the park benches, passing cans of beer around as they decompressed.

Dennis couldn't help himself as he laid in the shadows, watching as he laid his head on his paws. They looked exhausted, but there were smiles too. Laughter. His heart ached; he hadn't felt that closeness, that friendliness with another living creature since he had started running. It was too dangerous.

Dennis was startled out of his thoughts as he realized that the group had broken up, and two of the men were walking his way. He scrambled up from his spot under a nearby tree and weaseled his way under a bush.

There was nothing particularly stand out about the men that passed him, but Dennis swore that the taller man's kind eyes had locked with his as they walked by. He felt his heart thumping in his chest and for some inexplicable reason, found himself slinking down the path behind them.

"I think we have a stalker," the shorter man whispered to the taller man, casting a glance back at where Dennis was pressed to the ground following them from a distance. He froze as the taller man turned to look as well.

"Well shit," the taller one said, crouching down and looking directly at Dennis before making a clicking sound. "C'mere pup. What're you doin' out here?"

Dennis slinked forward, his tail wagging behind him out of his control. There was something about the kindness in the man's eyes, in his voice that made Dennis think maybe, maybe, he could trust him.

When he approached, the man stuck his hand out for Dennis to sniff. He smelt sharp and metallic; Dennis recognized the smell of blood underneath antiseptic from his days of med school. It made sense, the entire group had walked out of what Dennis assumed to be a hospital about an hour before hand.

Dennis licked at the man’s hand tentatively, earning a grin and a scratch behind the ear.

“He doesn't have a collar,” the taller one mused as the short man approached cautiously, extending a hand to Dennis as well.

“Probably a stray,” the shorter one responded.

“Looks too well kept to be a stray. We should call the shelter, see if anyone's missing him.”

“Or,” there was a lopsided smirk on the short man’s face as he set a hand on the other man’s shoulders, “We bring him home for the night and call in the morning.”

The taller man sighed, looking up from where he was knelt down. “You have a serious savior complex, Abbot.”

The shorter man, Abbot, laughed before pulling out a bag of something that made Dennis’ mouth water. He stood up slowly, inching his way closer as the man took a piece of beef jerky out of the bag.

“You hungry boy?”

Dennis could have screamed. Yes! He was starving. The last meal he had was a pizza crust from the dumpster this morning.

Abbot offered up the piece of beef jerky and Dennis took it as gently as possible before moving back a bit and scarfing it down. He didn't see Abbot hand the bag off to the other man while beginning to dig through his back pack.

Soon enough, Dennis was being led through the streets of Pittsburgh with a rope tied loosely around his neck while the taller man - Mikey, he had deduced - snuck him pieces of beef jerky. And then, they were walking up porch stairs and into a warmly lit house.

Mikey bathed Dennis and wrapped him in a towel, cooing at him while taking pictures of him wrapped up. It should've been embarrassing to have these men dote on him - he was a twenty seven year old man for God’s sake. But Dennis just felt warm. Cared for in a way that he hadn't felt for long before he had run from the farm.

Abbot had given him a bowl of water and some white rice, which he devoured gratefully. His eagerness had made Abbot chuckle and ruffle the fur between his ears. It felt nice.

He was put into the guest bedroom and Dennis couldn't help the sigh that left him as the door clicked shut. He'd have to escape tomorrow somehow - he couldn't let them bring him to the shelter. But for the night, he could hop onto the bed and curl up with the heaps of kindness he'd been given.

~~~

“I'm gonna check on our guest,” Robby sighed, untangling himself from his husband. The bright light of the sun shone through the gaps in the dark curtains as the morning dragged on. "Probably take him outside to go to the bathroom before we call the shelter.”

Jack made a noncommittal noise, not releasing his grip on Robby until the other man pinched at the skin below his arm pit.

“Ow. Asshole.” Jack grumbled, turning over and taking the blankets with him.

Robby laughed, shaking his head as he made his way across the hall to the guest room. He opened the door slowly, expecting the muzzle of their little stow-away to peak out at him as he cracked it open.

Instead, he was met with a person. A boy, specifically, sprawled out on the guest bed where Robby had left the stray the night before. The door creaked slightly, causing the boy to jolt awake, immediately locking eyes with Robby as he frantically tried to cover himself up.

“Oh- oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. I swear- I can explain,” the boy stuttered.

Robby blinked at the situation in front of him as he felt the familiar warmth of Jack behind him.

“Huh, well this is an unexpected turn of events.”

Robby nodded half-heartedly, his eyes fixed on the boy in his guest bedroom. “That… that is an understatement.”

[blueangelbby]

i heard a rumor that dennis whitaker has the wettest pussy in PTMC

Dr. Abbot is it 10pm go check on your PATIENTS

[blueangelbby]

Rumor? Well I heard that Dennis Whitaker is sleeping with his attendings! Plural!!

-🎠🎠

Babes I heard he called Dr. Abbot dad during shift hand off that dude’s got more issues than I can sort out

[blueangelbby]

I’m bored and feel like starting a rumor right before I go to bed

[man1cpixiedreampuppy]

im kind of like a webkinz to u guys in a way

[man1cpixiedreampuppy]

me and oomfs

[motherofcatsandmess]

[queer-reader-07]

thou fount of every blessing

Jack Abbot/Dennis Whitaker | Rated E | 2.9k words

Jack wasn’t religious, not anymore at least, but that’s not to say he wasn’t of faith. His faith just happened to be placed in a farm boy from Nebraska, rather than a carpenter from Nazareth.

or

Lapsed Catholic!Jack, trans!Dennis, oral period sex, and Eucharistic devotion

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

(set in the same universe as from crown to sole)

a little while ago i floated the idea of writing a Jack blood kink fic where the yonic imagery of Christ's side wound is superimposed onto Dennis thereby making his body a site of holy devotion and adoration for Jack. this is that fic!

thank you @entropicquilibriumofchaos for beta reading, and thank you to every mutual who supported my insane catholic freakiness<3

[blueangelbby]

Going to a concert next week if I get to fuck the drummer you’ll never hear the end of it from me

[blueangelbby]

I will not lie to you guys….the post concert depression hit so bad I was drooling over edits of the drummer and crying over needing that man and lost track of everything else for a few days. Got violently ill and almost went to the ER. Completed a final with a 101 degree fever. I’m back. It’s fine. We’re back on track. We’re so back.

[puppyjavadi]

jack and his wife always planned to put a kid in a specific room, but she died while pregnant, so now jack’s a childless father. he takes in dennis after finding him on the eighth floor, and puts him in that room. he starts having sort of transferred feelings but also is helplessly attracted to dennis.

your choice on where it goes! i would love to hear some of jack’s internal monologue/personally feeling about it, but ill love whatever you do!

-puppydogwhitaker

Happy late birthday!!! I've had like... writer's sludge. I can't write anything fast rn and I've been working a ton but I loved this ask so I wanted to finish it up as a birthday treat for you! @puppydogwhitaker

Can you tell I just read You Know It (You Know It, You Know It’s True) by @sacrificedagoat? If anyone reading this likes the prompt, you will like that fic.

Jack didn't tell anyone that Liz was pregnant when she died. She was only 16 weeks and at her age, they didn't want to tell anyone until she was at least 25. So, when she got T-boned at an intersection on her way back from the grocery store, Jack never saw the point in bringing it up.

8 years later, he was far past the point of having kids of his own. No one to have them with, no one to fill the empty house he hates being in. It's okay though. He'd been in therapy, learning to cope. When the house was too quiet, which was always, he played the police scanner loud and never stopped working on stuff. That kinda helped.

As awful as it was, the MCI was a come-to-jesus moment for Jack. He remembered his purpose, an old purpose, one from before his wife. He was a bee who protected the hive. You didn't need family to have a hive. You didn't need love to have a hive. Just a body and a will to work. After drinks in the park, he found himself back at the PTMC doors. Jack needed to see it, feel it. He wandered through every floor of the hospital, some departments still reeling from the influx of patients. Some more silent than ever. He knew the 8th floor was empty but he continued anyway, just to see it. Not every part of the hive was busy.

Jack was sharp. From the second the security doors opened, He heard the echo of singing and movement across the linoleum. An old patient room seeping light into the hallway. Someone on break? A squatter?

Stood in the doorway, Jack didn't think he'd ever been more confused in his life. Robby's new MS4 singing along to music twice his age, giving himself a wet rag wipe down in a barely-habitable, abandoned patient room.

Who could blame him for staring?

"Everybody here is dancing. All I wanna do is getcha body next to mi-ne. Yea- OH MY GOD!" Whitaker screamed.

Jack puffed out a breath of laughter, mouth curling into a smirk.

"What?! Wha- wait a second-" Whitaker turned around an tossed on a threadbare t-shirt so fast that it was inside out and backwards so that the tag stuck out the front. "What are you doing here?!"

"What are you doing here?"

---

The signs were obvious once you knew. He was skinny and pale beyond belief. Jack remembered how hard being a med student was back when he did it. Lord knows what sacrifices he made to become a doctor.

He offered Whitaker his spare room. There was no reason not to. Jack wasn't using the space. The boy seemed harmless enough. Robby'd really taken a shine to him. What's the harm?

"Ok, ground rules." Jack said matter-of-factly as he set his go-bag down on the kitchen island. "You are free to stay here. There are no expectations of rent of any kind-- we can revisit that if you land a residency in the area."

"Dr. Abbot, I-I can't thank you enough, really." Jack couldn't tell if Whitaker looked more terrified or relieved. Maybe Whitaker didn't know himself.

"Jack. We're in m- the house, call me Jack."

"Ok. Ok, yeah. You can call me Dennis. Uh, if you want."

"Ok, Dennis. Here are the ground rules," Jack stretched out his neck. "Stay out of my room, don't make a mess in common spaces, clean up after yourself if you cook. Don't bother me, unless it's important, then bother me right away."

"Um. Yeah, ok. I can do that!" Whitaker still hadn't moved since they'd entered the kitchen. Like this was all a dream and disturbing it would cause the walls to come crashing down.

Jack sighed. This was the weird part but Whitaker didn't need to know that. "Let me show you your room."

It was cornflower blue. That was as far as he'd gotten. He finished painting it 3 days before she died. They'd picked the color standing in home depot together. They hadn't even bought furniture or decorations. The room still had a bed.

Dennis passed the threshold hesitantly. Something was changing in him. Relief. Jack thought. But relief looked bad on the kid. Like it let down the walls keeping out the exhaustion. Fuck he's so scrawny. Does he get to eat?

"I like the color," the kid remarked.

"What?" Jack felt the air rush out of his chest.

"Yeah, it's my favorite. It's really pretty."

Jack gulped. "Ok, well. I got some stuff I wanna get a nap in before I head back to the PTMC around 3 so... Goodnight Whitaker."

"Uh, you said you'd call me Dennis. Remember?" Jesus.

"Yeah, my bad. Goodnight Dennis."

---

Dennis was weird and Jack kinda loved it.

"My mom didn't even listen to this much Chaka Kahn." Jack snortled looking through Dennis' Spotify.

"She should have spent her time more wisely then."

"Was that a dig at my dead mother?"

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Dennis left his clothes everywhere, had the strangest collection of cultural references that seemed old to Jack, liked to lie down shirtless in the sun (Jack almost tripped over him twice, mind you), and had no semblance of a routine. Harmless, a little annoying at times, and very entertaining.

Jack forgot what it was like, coming home and knowing the house lived and breathed without you there. It should've felt inconvenient but Jack couldn't bring himself to mind. He had always liked taking care of people and hadn't had someone to take care of in a long, long time.

He'd get home from his shift, pick up after Dennis, check the fridge to see if they had enough snacks, then make dinner for both of them if Dennis was home. If not, he'd pack the kid a lunch. He felt pride every time Dennis scarfed down a dinner or returned a lunchbox completely empty. Soon enough, Jack was taking note of the way the kid's shoulders were filling out, his ribs less visible, his hair even picked up some more texture with vitamins in his body. It was good, the boy was healthy. He was young, attractive-- nothing wrong with that.

For a while, that's why Jack could pretend he was looking.

---

Dennis certainly liked the attention from Jack. He couldn't help but show it.

The boy sputtered every time Jack so much as remembered his name let alone drove him places, paid for stuff, and showed an interest in him.

"I miss being in nature, it's one of the only things I still really miss about being home." Dennis smiled as he fished a rock out of his hiking shoes. New hiking shoes that Jack bought him specifically for this outing.

"Broken Bow, right?"

"Yeah! It's a few hours outside of Omaha. It's really pretty there."

"Do you go back and visit often?" Jack knew the answer. Dennis never mentioned his family directly. The holidays were coming up and he hadn't mentioned a single travel plan.

"Uh... not really. Med school keeps me busy, ya know?"

"Mmh." Jack grunted. "Not even to see family?"

Dennis' expression soured a bit. "No. Not really."

"Well, you always have a place of your own now." Jack clapped his hand on Dennis' shoulder and the boy's whole body almost gave out under the contact. "In Pittsburgh, at the PTMC... with me." Jack puffed his chest out, trying to look nonchalant.

Dennis bit his lip, his eyes softening and getting glossy. "Do... Do you really mean that?"

"One hundred percent. House was feeling empty anyways."

Dennis raised a hand to meet Jack's, fingertips brushing the older man's knuckles: staticky, charged sensations lighting up Jack's spine.

Jack took him in; Dennis was flushed, strawberry pink. Dappled light hit his curls, making them almost red in the sunlight. Beads of sweat wet his brow. Light muscle padded his shoulders. The sun had burned freckles on his cheeks.

Dennis had bloomed in Jack's palm with nothing more than a little time and care. Like a dandelion peeking out of concrete, Jack couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to take care of him.

Dennis grabbed the front of Jack's shirt and pulled him into a searing kiss.

---

The issue wasn't that Jack wanted Dennis. Once upon a time, that would've felt like a betrayal to Liz's memory but enough time had passed that Jack knew he was allowed to move on. They were both adults. They barely worked any shifts together. It was all above board.

The problem was this other feeling.

The feeling Jack got when Dennis fell asleep on the couch and Jack tucked him in. What he felt when, one morning, Dennis had his hands full and needed Jack to bend down and tie his shoes. That feeling was the problem. Thinking about that fucking feeling while Dennis was lying, passed out in Jack's bed was unbearable.

The kid was staying in that room. The cornflower blue walls mocking Jack. He was sick. Thinking about this was sick. Liking it was sick.

Dennis didn't ever need to know.

---

The first time Dennis called Jack 'Daddy' during sex, Jack couldn't tell if he was having a heart attack or coming.

"D-Daddy please," he whined, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Please, more. More."

"Fuck, Den. My sweet boy, my sweet fucking boy."

Jack couldn't help himself. He was only a man. Dennis liked it-- started it! Sprung it on him when he was balls-deep. Of course Jack didn't use his better judgement.

And he just kept not using his better judgement. He craved it. Needed to hear it. The word was so close to what he actually wanted to hear. Jack had a permanent sore spot in his cheek from where he bit it every time he came in the shower imagining how it would sound.

Now, when he fucked Dennis. He timed his trusts, his bites, every way he knew how to get the boy screaming.

"Daddy! Fuck, Jack. Please please please--" Dennis cried, hips pinned. Jack angled himself in the way he knew lit Dennis on fire.

"Daddy!" Dennis choked out between sobs. "Hmph. Feels so fucking good"

Jack tightened his grip on the back of Dennis' neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone.

"Ah! Ha! Jack," He gulped, chest heaving. Almost incoherent now. "D-Daddy. Daddy daddy daddy--"

Jack waited, whole body alight, world collapsing down to one singular focus. Getting the timing right down to the syllable. Then, he sucked hard right below his boy's jaw.

"Dad--!"

Dennis screamed as he came, Jack seconds behind him. Pushed over the edge. Gripping Dennis' hips like there was no separation between Jack's body and his.

---

Dennis slumped against their pillows, sweat matting down his curls. Jack didn't blame him, his muscles felt like jelly.

"Sorry if that was weird," Dennis panted.

It took a moment for the words to register. "What?"

"I uh, I sort of called you Dad there at the end? Like, I meant to say daddy but it came out wrong. My bad." Dennis curled in on himself a little bit. Red from exhaustion but also embarrassment.

"Oh," Jack sighed. "Don't worry about it."

[blueangelbby]

hc time: both jack and robby are very witty, of course, but i like to think that brat dennis is the king of deadpan comments that make their hearts stop before they realize he’s joking. like jack’s like “hey baby remember to send us your tax forms for our tax guy” and dennis says completely serious not looking up from his cereal “oh, i don’t do my taxes” and they both stare at him for a couple of seconds before being like oh he’s fucking kidding. jesus christ. fuck. and then dennis gets the spanking of a lifetime for scaring his daddy like that, which is truly just an incentive to do it more often.

This is so me it’s not even funny

The smallest things. “Do you want to borrow my car?" "Can't drive I don't have a license" "Who's your PCP?" "Trinity at the moment. I haven't been to an actual doctor in years"

And it's difficult to discern when he's kidding and when he's not. Sometimes he's being completely serious. Sometimes he's not. "When's the last time you had a checkup?" "Maybe five years. Possibly less. Probably more."

It comes out when he's trying to hide something. If he can throw them off from their original question or concern, he can get in trouble over having to actually address the issue. Does it work? Not usually. Will he continue trying? Absolutely.

Dennis is always a bad liar but he's always going to try to do it. Deadpan comments are easier to lie about. Jack starts finishing his questions with "be honest or go get my belt" because he doesn't have time for this. Robby just sighs and guides him to a corner. Once he's done panicking he'll deal with his brat.

[blueangelbby]

Why the FUCK do I have a cold in JUNE ITS 91 DEGREES OUTSIDE

[quiet-doll]

recently saw ppl discuss whether they put their medicines in a kitchen cabinet or a bathroom cabinet and i was shocked by the fact that many ppl said kitchen cabinet. so now i need you to reblog this and say where you keep yours

[puppydogwhitaker]

ohhhh the girl with the birthday on father’s day is writing fauxcest as her gift to herself, big shocker. if anyone one else wants to give me puppyplay or fauxcest…

it was a joke. he would go to his grave swearing it was a joke.

he called robby daddy, and that felt pretty normal, so when father’s day came around, it was funny to get a little gag gift.

that fucking world’s best dad mug was ruining dennis’s life. robby used it at work, washing and packing it into his bag to bring it home on his days off. dennis would present a case, and he’d have to watch robby take a sip. he’d wake up, and robby would be making his second cup. robby always had this little smirk on his face anytime it was talked about too.

questions about who got it for him were clumsily batted away, leaving people to side eye them both. or worse, when robby jokingly used the moniker on the mug. would you mind getting your dear old dad his coffee? or with a slight moan often taking a sip, dad’s favorite.

dennis called robby daddy. that felt normal for whatever reason, but dad…

dad got him hard in his pajama pants while he stood in the kitchen making robby more coffee. dennis resisted calling robby that name every time he handed the mug back. here you go, dad, was on the tip of his tongue every single time.

breakfast in bed, of all things, was dennis’s undoing. robby had woken him up a full tray of pancakes sausages, juice, and coffee. they ate leisurely, and when robby slipped down the bed to eat dennis out, he set that stupid fucking mug on the nightstand with the lettering facing dennis.

dennis watched in the beginning as robby licked and nuzzled at him. when robby started sucking and making all those lewd noises, dennis had to look away to the side.

he had to look at the mug.

well, he didn’t have to, but his eyes were fixed on it. world’s best dad. dad. dad. dad.

robby’s teeth scraped against dennis’s clit. he grinded his hips and whined out, “fuck, dad.”

it was so obviously not the word daddy. the ending consonant was resolute. dennis immediately covered his face out of embarrassment.

robby smirked. dennis could feel it, his lips were so close. dennis had to shiver as he felt the words whispered into his wet heat, “dad’s making you feel good, huh?”

dennis clenched. it must’ve been obvious the way robby knowingly chuckled.

he was returning that mug! after this was over, he was returning that mug.

[queer-reader-07]

knock me down, hold me close

Jack Abbot/Michael "Robby" Robinavitch/Dennis Whitaker | Rated E | 3.9k words

Jack sat up from his spot against the headboard and turned to face Dennis. “You get one chance to apologize, Den,” Jack said firmly, grabbing hold of the boy’s chin as he spoke. “Don’t have anything to apologize for,” Dennis said, challenging. He was looking right at Jack, pushing the boundaries, seeing what he could get away with. Jack sighed, rolling his neck and setting his shoulders. “Nothing? So, Daddy texted me before you came home telling me I had to deal with you for what? Shits and giggles?”

or

Dennis was a brat at work all day and Robby tells Jack he has to deal with it.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

this is a sequel of sorts to the shower sex fic for @puppydogwhitaker's birthday (go say happy birthday to her 🫵🏼) <3

i hope you have fun with my weird threesome smut, this time with spanking!

and thank you @blueangelbby for beta reading!

[blueangelbby]

on that maintenance smacks grind again thanks friend! do you think rabbot goes through a trial era of figuring out how often Dennis needs his smacks? like they try every other week but Dennis gets bratty way too soon, and every 3 days left him over sensitive so finally they landed on one week intervals to give them the results they were looking for

-☀️

So yeah I’ve thought about this a lot

Dennis needs both daddy and sir during/after his maintenance spankings. He feels off if only one is present for it. Like he only got it from one dom and not both. He just feels unequal. Off balance.

It’s not so much about the length between maintenance but rather how hectic their schedule is going to be over the course of the week or month. If there’s a week where they’re going to be missing each other by a day or two? No chance to all exist under the same roof? That’s when they do the maintenance spankings to ensure Dennis is on his best behavior while he’s away from his doms. If there’s a week where they’re all actually together and able to soak up each others company? It’s the last thing they do so Dennis can feel completely owned and reminded of his place before he leaves.

Dennis doesn’t get to know when the spankings are happening. Then he tries to find a way to get out of them or worse, tries to find a way to be extra bratty so he can “earn” the punishment.

Robby and Jack pick. And they alternate who’s doing the spanking. Someone handles the warm up and then Dennis gets a quick 5 with a specific implement that the other one uses. Sometimes Dennis gets to pick. If Jack picks, it’s the paddle. If Robby picks, it’s the wooden spoon that Dennis would happily let get lost in a cooking accident.

It’s a nice little reset for all of them. Dennis gets reminded of his place. That no matter what happens, he’s always going to be liable for a trip over their knees, because they love him and want him to be on his best behavior. Robby gets reminded of a purpose he has outside of the hospital. Someone has to keep their boy from running himself into the ground. Someone has to keep an eye on him.

Jack just has fucking fun with it. He likes those pretty tears Dennis sheds and how they all pretend they can’t tell Dennis’s cock is weeping for a touch.

[blueangelbby]

What up

Saw the post you reblogged about the dead dove huckleabbot puppy adoption and got to thinking about a situation where a feral and abused puppyhybrid!Dennis was adopted by rabbot to avoid being sent to a federal shelter.

He would be completely untrusting upon being brought into the house via crate, his new owners opening the latched door to let him out, but he just stares at them from the back, curled up defensively. 

They ask him his name, trying to be patient and gentle, but get no response. Abbot reaches in to take out the filthy blanket he was delivered with and nearly gets the outer digits of his ring and middle finger bitten off. 

Dennis has fleas (lice) on his tail and head due to poor prior captivity, so rabbot have no choice but to wrestle a growling puppy into a muzzle before dropping him into a medicated bath, for their own safety.

Dennis hates both of them desperately for weeks. He drinks his meals through a straw that fits between the metal wiring of his muzzle, as he has not earned the privilege of not wearing it. He hates them for reducing him to a puppies’ level, he sleeps in his blanket covered crate, drinks water from a bowl, and is only allowed to go into their fenced in backyard when he wants to be outside. Dennis fails to see this is because he's made himself untrustworthy, and refuses to behave like a human out of spite. 

Eventually, he begins to talk to his new owners in small, clipped sentences. He begins to try to communicate when he feels scared, anxious, or wants something specific instead of growling and acting out. He's rewarded with being able to eat at the table, the removal of the muzzle, and sleeping in his own room.

He warms up to Robby first, because he shows him the most softness and patience. He's quick to coddle him, scratching behind his ears when he acts out, cooing “you didn't mean to growl at daddy, did you Dennis? You were just scared? Was my poor puppy just scared? You don't have to be scared of daddy”

Abbot on the other hand is not afraid to lay down the law. Dennis has a hard time building a relationship with him because he can only see the authoritativeness in Abbott's actions. Eventually, he comes to understand what it means to submit for his owner, his master, and get rewarded for being a good little puppy. Sir just had his best interests at heart, that's why he needs to kneel when commanded to, settle down when instructed, fetch certain objects when requested. The love and praise he gets back makes his head spin and his tail wag.

Pretty soon rabbot have a pretty little housepet that sleeps between them, helps with chores, and can be trusted to leave the house on his own to run errands or socialize (wearing a collar that bears his owners names and phone numbers, of course)

-🧵

I had this whole thing answered and then tumblr deleted it and I was so mad that I genuinely couldn’t log on for a few days.

Dennis who hates them so much but also hates how lonely he is at night in his crate away from the low hum of conversation between his owners. Hates how good a scratch behind his ears feel before he remembers he’s supposed to be this scary hybrid. Hates that his body knows when Robby or Jack is coming home, that he can’t stop his tail from wagging in excitement when he hears the front door open because that means daddy or sir and cuddles and treats and wait fuck I’m not supposed to like them.

Jack 100% does the like K9 dog training of hand feeding Dennis for the first few weeks. The commands and quick corrections, he yanks on the leash so harshly that Robby’s calling out complaints. But Jack sees the terror in Dennis’s eyes. He knows that the pup needs this. He needs a firm hand to make expectations clear for him. Jack makes it so clear that they give Dennis everything he could want, he’s completely reliant on them regardless of if he likes it or not.

Robby takes a softer approach. Talks down to him just like he would a puppy, soft coos and high pitched “What a smart boy. Oh, big yawn, and a big stretch. Is puppy so tired? Does puppy baby need a nap?” Gets him toys and sneaks him food when Jack isn’t looking. He’s the first one to let Dennis into bed because the sweet puppy wouldn’t stop whining about how lonely his own crate was, please I’ll be so good, sir doesn’t even have to know (Jack does know and is secretly thrilled)

Ugh a collar with their name and numberssss and Jack checks it every time Dennis wants to leave, makes it a bit too snug to ensure it’s not going to move while he’s out. Robby likes the pink one (a soft ballerina slipper pink that matches the softness of Dennis’s complexion) but Dennis hates it so he’s always trying to hide it which just means he has to wear it for weeks when one of his owners find it.

Idk Dennis becoming so attached to the praise that he can’t even fathom being bad ever again. Why would he cause problems when he could get a quick kiss on the head and a belly rub for opening his mouth and taking his owner’s cock? Daddy has his own special commands that Dennis follows to present so well and so prettily too. Why fight when he could just be a good, perfect, kept puppy?