18+ mdni thinking about jack abott and his sweet girl who gets distracted during sex n can have trouble finishing…
he can see when you’re into it— meeting his eye, smiling, responding to his words with sweet whimpers n hushed whispers as he fucks you… but then he can see when your head goes elsewhere. your eyes glaze over a bit and drift to the ceiling, you stop grinding down to meet his thrusts.
His hand comes up to cup your face in an attempt to draw you back, and you turn your face to kiss his palm, but he knows it’s just an absentminded reflex.
“Hey.” Jack urges, voice a low rasp. “Hey, doll. Look at me.” He smiles gently when you finally meet his eye with a small one of your own. “Where’d you go, pretty girl? Gotta stay with me.”
“Sorry,” you murmur, all breathy as Jack’s hips snap forward n his cock kisses your cervix. “Just thinking.”
Jack shakes his head, light and easy and hardly a reprimand. “You’ve got all the time in the world to think, sweetheart. I need you to focus right now, can you do that for me?”
You nod.
“Feel this?” He rolls his hips again, slow and deep. “Feel how full you are?”
You nod again, and this time your brows furrow n your face scrunches in pleasure as you fully find your way back to the present.
“Yeah. Attagirl. Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” You breathe out. You let your back arch, rutting down against Jack to chase that build-up you need. He nods encouragingly.
“There you go. You’re doing such a good job.” Jack’s hand moves low between your bodies. He finds your clit, rolls it between the pads of his index and middle fingers.
He smirks when you moan and tremble. He knows you’re getting there, but also knows that you could just as easily lose it again. So he keeps talking.
“Such a good girl for me. Look how fuckin’ perfect you are.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then he connects his lips to yours and lets his tongue sweep inside, swallowing your next moan. He’s panting softly when he pulls away.
His fingers speed up just a bit when he can tell that you need more. He nods, urging you along when your hands come up to grip his shoulders and you look at him with desperate eyes. He keeps the encouragement flowing freely. “Good girl. Come on, you can do it. I feel you getting close, babydoll. You’re doing so well. I wanna feel you to cum on my cock.”
Your brows knit in concentration and you writhe on the bed, trying to move the right way and find the right angles to finally send yourself over the edge.
When it works you tighten up everywhere— your fingers dig into the freckled flesh of Jack’s shoulders, your body goes rigid, your mouth slackens in a long, airy moan. Jack groans lowly at the feeling of your walls clenching up around him, pulling his cock in deep.
“Goood girl.” Jack grits out. His hips stutter as he diligently fucks you through your orgasm. “You’re so good, honey. Fuck.” His forehead falls against yours, sweaty gray curls pressing against your hairline and lust-blown eyes mere inches from your own. “That never gets fucking old.”
(first maladaptive daydream drabble. pls don't ask how i fathomed this up, i genuinely have no idea but i ran with it bc it was a good angsty moment)
content warning: sweet! sammy bryant x very insecure! reader, angsty then fluffy, no smut
word count: 1.0k+
sammy bryant who is thoroughly confused as to why reader insists on paying him to sleep with her. you guys met through the department (no specific details on this, my brain skipped over it lol) and you're quite insecure, in many ways. the first time it happened, sammy brought you home with him after a night out at the bar. things got hot and heavy... and unbeknownst to him, he ended up taking your virginity that night. anyway, you wake up the next morning and don't really let anything else happen. you give him a sheepish smile, fishing a $20 bill out of your pocket and handing it to him. at first he laughs at you, jokingly taking the money from you.
that's when you walk out while he runs to the bathroom. he returns to find you already gone, and something feels very wrong. he looked at the $20 bill like it threatened to murder his entire family. he notices that you've now made yourself scarce since that night, but he doesn't go looking for you. it's not until you appear at his front door step unannounced.
"hey uh- now's not a good time." he speaks calmly, his eyes assessing you and the way you refused to look him in the eye for even half a second. "i know, i just... was wondering if you were free tomorrow night." you reply quietly, arms holding onto one another as you try not to cave in on yourself. you hand him a small envelope that looked like a card, so he accepted it with a small smile. "yeah, should be once i get done with work." you nod and then walk back to your car, without saying anything else.
of course, he should've been suspicious of that envelope. he mentally slaps himself when he sees that a total of $500 was sitting in the envelope. he looks over at nate (yes moretta bc this is my au and idc) with a look of confusion. "i'm lost, man. she's a pretty girl, right?" nate raises an eyebrow. "she's fucking gorgeous, so i don't get it either." sammy runs a hand through his hair, feeling confused but also worried for you.
the next night, you were standing in your kitchen with your roommate who's talking excitedly about having a date night with her boyfriend. she smirks at you, knowing that you also had someone to see tonight. "cheers to us, baby. we're both getting dick tonight!" she chuckles as she slides on her jacket. she gives you a wink, bidding you farewell as she leaves to meet her boyfriend. you let out a quiet sigh, starting dinner that you wanted to make for sammy.
about an hour later, he's at your door. you let him in and he's unsure of what to do with himself. "you didn't eat dinner yet, did you?" you ask him quietly as you walk into the kitchen. "nah, but that smells fantastic." he offers you a genuine smile and you nod. "make yourself at home, anything in the fridge is free game." he opens the fridge, spotting his favorite beer (interesting) and takes a bottle out. he sits at the counter, watching you move around the kitchen.
you eventually slide him a plate and then go straight to cleaning up the dishes. "you're not eating?" he raises an eyebrow, mouth already full of food. "i will in a second, just wanted to clean up first." you finish cleaning and then start eating from your plate. you rest against the counter by the stove, holding your plate while eating from it. he frowns, noticing the distance you were keeping from him. he finishes his food, which was way too good to ignore.
you take his plate and wash everything else. while you're busy with that, sammy finally drops the question. "so, what's your deal?" you stiffen at the question, glancing over your shoulder at him. "what do you mean?" you ask, then watch as he pulls out the small envelope with the money still inside. "you keep trying to pay me for sex, sweetheart." he tosses it gently back onto the counter and slides it away.
you let out a heavy sigh, looking back down at the sink in front of you. "i mean- why else would you do it?" that question made him pause. he stands up from his chair, walking toward you, but stopping a few feet short. "what do you mean 'why else would i do it?'" he scoffs at you, surprised by how self-deprecating all your responses have been. "there's nothing appealing about me, i'm boring, ugly, and weird. why would anyone willingly do something with me?" he wasn't sure whether he wanted to rip his hair out or maybe even yours.
you turn your back to him, and that's when he's had enough. he steps up behind you, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist. you go stiff in his embrace, not feeling deserving of his affection. "your money means nothing to me. it's you that means everything to me." he spoke gently in your ear, brushing your hair back away from it. that's when the tears start to flow and he feels your shoulders tremble against him. he turns you around, pulling you closer as soft sobs escape your lips.
you don't even wrap your arms around him, that feeling of being undeserving still in full force. he forcefully grabs your arms and wraps them around his middle. "stop fighting me on this." he mutters against your hair, rubbing soft circles into your back. "i don't deserve it..." you mumble weakly against his shoulder. he pulls back, grabbing your jaw hard enough to make you listen. "don't give me that bullshit." he shakes his head, watching your pretty eyes as they glisten with tears.
he presses his lips to yours, groaning in frustration when you still don't do it back. you both knew you wanted this, so why were you being so damn stubborn? "how long are you gonna keep this up?" he mumbles against your lips. finally, after being at war with yourself mentally for too long, you give in and kiss him back the way you really wanted to. he cups the back of your head, pressing you closer to him while your arms stayed wrapped around him.
you two didn't really end up doing anything that night, he just held you close and showed you how things were supposed to be when you were into someone.
welcome to my mind palace, cutie patooties. enjoy your stay <3
Stepdad!robby coming home after a tiring shift.
Reader coming down the stairs, saying hi to her daddy <3 she can see that he’s tired, so she offers to run him a bath.
As the old man that he is, Robby tell her that he’s so exhausted even for a bath, so Reader assures him that she will help him.
It’s all so sweet, how devoted Reader is in washing her stepdad, and as she keeps on dragging the loofah on his skin, she notices Robby’s erection:
I’m sorry Angel. It’s just a natural reaction, would you help me with this too?
[I love your blog, hope you likes this]
woooahhh this is soooo buzzy!!
warning: this is icky!! icky icky icky!! dumbification lowk, reader is naive as hell. robby is manipulative asf!! be warned.
helping out stepdad!robby in the bath.
“i’m sorry angel. it’s just a natural reaction to you makin’ me feel good, think you could help dad out with this too?” robby knows he’s pushing his luck, but he also knows how devoted you are, how much you love your step daddy, how you’d do anything for him.
“i uh-i guess…how?” you’re all innocent eyes and shy smiles as you look up at him from your position kneeling on the floor beside the tub, loofah now discarded to the side.
"you know? like i taught you before, remember that? when you helped daddy feel really nice with your hands?" he tilts his head when he speaks to you, using that gentle tone that he knows you respond best to.
you swallow and nod slowly. "should i get in with you?"
robby nods and watches intently as you strip your clothes off, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor before stepping into the bath, you go to sit down facing him but he stops you with a hand on your hip.
"other way, angel." he guides your body with his hand so your back is turned to him now.
"but how will i be able to do that thing if i'm not facing you?" you ask but still sit down between his legs anyway. daddy always knows best so you do as you're told.
"don't worry, i'll show you. how about you open your legs for me, sweetheart?" he has both hands on each of your thighs, gently smoothing over them under the surface of the water.
"o-okay, daddy." you part your legs the best that you can in the cramped tub, bringing your knees up to your chest. robby slides his hand between your thigh and stomach, fingers resting against the soft mound of your pussy.
"okay, now give me your hand." he instructs and takes your hand in his, pushing himself as far back as he can to give you a little bit of room while he wraps your fingers around his shaft. it feels very different under the water than it did when you jerked him off before, feels softer, easier for you to glide over it with your fist.
"there ya go, doing so good, sweetheart. makin' daddy feel really nice, such a sweet girl takin' care of your old stepdad like this, aren't you? my sweet sweet girl." he purrs in your ear, his deep tone rumbling through his throat and sending shivers down your spine.
"well, i love you, daddy. this is how you show people you love them, isn't it? that's what you said before." robby wonders how he got so lucky to get such a sweet naive girl like you who just believes everything her daddy tells her. just his dumb little puppy so eager to please him.
"exactly, you're so clever, baby. you learn so quick, don't you?" he presses a wet kiss to your neck and revels in the way you lean into it, he can feel your smile across your cheeks from the praise he gave you. "hey, how about you let daddy show you how much he loves you, hm? it'll feel so nice i promise. you're always such a good girl for me, think you deserve to feel good too, right?"
"uh yeah, okay. but how?" you ask, hand still gliding up and down the length of his hard cock at the pace he taught you the last time, you can still feel the way it twitches in your hand under the warm water.
"don't worry, i'll show you. just relax, sweetheart." he presses one last kiss to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder as he leans forwards, bringing the hand he was resting on your pussy down a little bit. his long fingers find your clit immediately and gives you a few gentle rubs, feeling your body tense up a little bit as you gasp from the sensation.
"never touched yourself there before, huh, angel?" he asks, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his damp beard tickling your warm skin. you shake your head slowly, hand still firmly wrapped around his cock, though you're jerking him slower now, a little distracted by what's going on between your legs.
"that's okay, sweetheart. it'll feel really really nice, but i need you to promise me that you won't try this yourself, only daddy can touch you like this, yeah? so if you like it and you're feeling achy down there, you just come tell me and i'll take care of it, okay?" his fingers work slow circles over your clit and small whines tumble from your lips as you nod, resting your head against his as your body starts to feel so fuzzy and limp.
"uh-huh. i promise, daddy. only dads can touch their sweet girls like this?" your moans get louder as robby's pace increases, he presses down a little harder, finding exactly the right pressure to make you fall apart in his arms.
"yep, exactly. aren't you just the smartest girl in the world, hm? my sweet girl is just so so clever." he smirks against your neck. he has you exactly where he wants you and you don't even know it
michael robinavitch you are a pervert and i love you very much <3 (maybe i’m the pervert seeing as i wrote it) anywayyy hope u enjoyed, taking a bit of a gamble posting it this late but we ball.
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OUR LITTLE SECRET. SMUT. mdni! workplace sex. mean!robby. fem!reader. throat-fucking with fingers. allusions to choking. praise. big dick robby. use of pet names 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹
thinking about seeing robby in secret and teasing the hell out of him on shift. robby groaning his usual disgruntled “fuck me” after dealing with a particularly frustrating patient to which you cheekily mutter, “i mean…” with other doctors in earshot. robby’d just look at you with a face akin to disbelief, though this wasn’t the first time you’d hinted at your secret arrangement just to fuck with him, so that wasn’t quite right. the look was more predatory than anything.
so that little comment would end with you bent over the breakroom counter while he bullied his large cock into your pussy, groaning at how well you clenched around him. he seldom fucked you on shift for fear of getting caught, but he was not past putting you back in your place when you were clearly in need of it.
“robby, mmph, s- slow down! too big,” you whined helplessly, his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. robby covered your mouth with his hand, sticking two fingers down your throat. “ah-ah, baby. you were asking for this, weren’t you, baby? you wanted my big cock. now take what i fucking give you.”
you could only whimper and submit to him as he pounded you into the counter, efforts nothing short of relentless until he was cumming into your pussy, pulling you in by the waist to make sure you took every drop. robby wasn’t usually a quickie kind of guy, but certain circumstances allowed for it.
he leaned over your shoulder and spoke right into your ear, placing his hand on your neck not to squeeze but to warn. “you gonna behave the rest of my shift, baby?” he rasped, to which you nodded. “yeah? gonna be my good girl again?”
“m- mhm. so good, robby, promise,” you said meekly, too fucked-out to speak any louder. robby pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, a stark contrast to his earlier ministrations.
“there’s a girl. now, clean yourself up, honey. we’ve got a job to do.”
the way he’d look at you before absolutely destroying your pussy ‹𝟹
Happilymarried!Pope who makes everything a onesided competition on who treats their wife best. He just wants to brag how he kisses the ground u walk on because how are they criminals but Cath has to work at a bar??? Uh uh not Pope's wife, she's lapping up the sun by the pool in their house or busy spending his money around, not a care in the damn world hair done nails done in a cute lil car...his card has never graced the leather of his wallet cause its always in her purse
oh my gosh yes, absolutely. oh he's so husband ohhhh i'm sick!! i especially love this with ditzy, bimbo!reader <3 i got a little carried away but it's andrew so it fits! :)
everyone's at the house waiting for dinner to be made, just standing around and chatting. it's hot, bordering on nauseating humidity, and all andrew wants to do is see his pretty wife before dinner. he needs alone time, quiet time in his old room to just sit and gaze at you as you chatter.
but now? andrew's engaged in a mindless conversation with craig, hearing him drone on about his latest hook-up while he stands with his hands on his hips nervously. you're due at smurf's house at any minute, a promise you made as you laid out on the beachfront of your home, waving at andrew as he got in his truck to meet up with the boys earlier that day.
he couldn't stop himself from kissing you. he was 15 minutes late. big fuckin' deal. andrew's family knew he needed his "you time".
deran's cooking tonight, much to pope's chagrin, and the cody's are all a bit anxious to eat the food. "oh no i literally have the pizza place down the block on speed dial" j expresses in between sips of his beer, before deran angrily chimes in from inside the house "jokes on you, dickhead, i catered."
baz sits on a lounger with cath, holding her to his side as he talks to j about an upcoming job. she's sticky with bar-soda stains and exhausted with the sheer movement of a work ethic. staring down at her ring, she runs her thumb over the diamond, wondering how life could've been different. her eyes flicker over to the oldest cody, and she can remember a time when she'd always find him looking back at her. but that hasn't happened in a long time. her shoulders crack with resignation and envy.
a horn honking, a happy squeal from the driveway, and andrew's straightening up his miserable stance. the thick gummy sole of his jordans rub against the concrete as he, quite literally, walks away from craig mid conversation. "bro-" craig shrugs, turning to look at baz in confusion as baz smiles "his girls home bro, you lost him the second the tires pulled in the driveway." craig stomps into the house, but he's not really angry, never could be at pope, "fucker has super hearing, man"
andrew walks to the driveway, shoulders losing their hunch the closer he gets to your bubblegum pop music and toothy smile. it's hard for andrew to smile, he'd often tell you, late in the dark of your bedroom, "'it's like it hurts a bit. hurts my face, i guess" but right now? his smile is beaming; crooked, endearing teeth on display with a light flush. it's probably because his brothers are inside, he never liked smiling with his teeth before you.
"andy!!" you cheer, wide smile and bouncing in lightly between your left and right foot. andrew doesn't even slow his steps, just keeps trudging towards you until you're in his arms. one big hand hooked behind your head for a long, sloppy kiss. waaaay too much of a display for normal public settings. his breath hitches as your hands drag under his t-shirt, nails lightly scraping his sides.
breathing in through his nose, andrew pulls back to look down his nose at you, "missed you. where you been? how was shopping?" "good! really good andy, wanna see?" "later. lemme get a feel for you. missed you so much" with more kisses to your cheeks as he pushes the hair away from your eyes <3
when you go into the yard, you're smiling and waving at the cody's as you hang onto andrew's arm. your ring glistening in the reflection of the pool, cath can't help but swallow bitterly. andrew trails next to you, head fully turned to listen to you rant and rave about the latest sales and the cute clothing you bought for yourself and him. he looks like he could and would eat you whole at the nearest convenience. it's been years, and he still looks at you the same way.
at dinner, you sit on andrew's lap, legs swinging as you bring the fork to his mouth. craig can barely look but deran smiles into his food; it's nice to see pope happy (even if it is gross to witness at dinner). when his iced tea needs to be refilled, you lean forward over the table, his hand resting on the side of your ass to stabilize you. he's not comfy until the weight of his pretty wife is resting on his thighs.
later that night, when you are all cozy and chatting on the couch, you lift your feet into andrew's lap. he doesn't even bat an eye, moving like it's routine.... because it is. slipping off your lil platform flip flops, starting with a massage at your ankle, andrew massages your foot lovingly as he watches the conversations around him. "'s that good?" he speaks lowly to you, and you nod excitedly.
it's almost torture for cath to watch. she was on her feet for probably 9 hours today, and here you are: shiny toe ring, perfectly, freshly manicured toes. begging andrew for a massage, "think i twisted it after i ran out of victoria's secret." his voice sounds alien to her "'s no good baby, gotta watch your step, we talked about this" soooo husbandly and earnest.
teaching you about your erogenous zones (nsfw version)
read the sfw version here
thanks to @lostalioth for the idea!
cw: clunky use of medical terminology, slight dumbification, about a pinkies worth of gentle anal play
... ☆ ... c. page ... ☆ ...
... ☆ ... read all doctor!sam ... ☆ ... doctor!sam m. list ... ☆
"You have more than one primary erogenous zone," sam murmured, picking up where he left off on your last lesson. The second that he touched your cunt he knew he had taught you enough for one night. You had just been laying there, shaking, your cunt leaking all over the sheets but too dropped out to tell him what you needed.
"Can you try to guess what they are for me?"
The way his body blanketed yours made it difficult to think straight, and your brain struggled to hang the 180 from the mindless pleasure he was just giving you to trying to string words together.
"My clit?" you tried, hoping that was a scientific enough word to satisfy him.
"Mhmm. That's part of your vulva. You have four more."
In your haze that seemed like an absurdly high number. "My pussy, and..." You trailed off, none of the other options in your head seeming quite right.
"It's specifically the anterior, or front wall. Any other ideas, pretty? I haven't taught you this so it's okay if you don't know."
You shook your head, mind coming up blank for any other places you felt like sharing.
"Words, baby."
"I don't know."
"That's okay," sam soothed, his voice like honey. "That's what I'm here for. You have your nipples," he started, brushing his thumb over the bud, "and your vulva which you already know." For each body part he named he gave it some attention, the hand that was just on your breast moving down to cup your mound. "You also have your anterior wall," he slipped his middle finger in to show you, the path tight and controlled against your front. "And your perineum." He dragged his finger out until just the tip was resting inside, and pressed down against the outside of your back wall. The area was slippery with wetness, and the pressure felt different than any other way he touched you. There was a certain weight to it you hadn't felt before, and it made you suck in a breath.
"This is a new one, huh? Tried my best to keep away from here until I could teach you about it." He rubbed the membrane softly, feeling your body relax into the new touch.
"And it's right above your anus." His slick finger dropped down to rub along your rim, and you jumped. The pressure was light enough that you weren't worried about pain, but it felt... off.
"We're not going to try too much here tonight, okay baby? If you feel like being a big girl you can have the tip of my finger, but I want you to relax." His voice was warm and gentle, and it eased any anxieties that the new feeling brought on. "We're just learning right now, okay?"
"Okay." Your voice was soft, and each circle of his finger calmed your nerves more.
"Do you see why this is an erogenous zone? I know it feels funny but your little pussy is dripping all over my hand."
"Yes," you breathed, your hips starting to search for the friction. "Feels good."
"Do you want to try a little bit of my finger? Just want to show you what it's like."
He waited for your hum of approval before pushing in.
"Just relaxxx." His finger breached you on the last syllable, covered in enough of your slick to not tug. He only slid in to his first knuckle, but your hands flew up to grip his shoulders.
"I know it feels like a lot," sam cooed, keeping his finger completely still, "but we'll go slow here. When you're ready it's gonna feel perfect."
You experimentally squeezed around his finger, the sensation feeling slightly foreign but not unplesant.
"There you go, princess. Such a quick study. Gonna show you the last one, okay?"
He slipped his finger out, bracing his arm back at your side. Now that he was hovering over you again he dipped his head down for a kiss, his lips slotting against yours in a way that made you just as needy as his fingers.
"It's your mouth," he murmured against your lips, licking into them one last time before slipping his fingers in beside his tongue. They were so huge he could only fit in two, but they rubbed all along your gums and palate while he nipped and kissed at your lips.
"Only primary erogenous zone that doesn't respond well to pain. Just responds to sensual human touch." To drive his point home he pressed his fingers into your tongue, swirling and rubbing at the muscle until you made a gagging noise, making him withdraw his fingers and replace them with his tongue. He kissed you like he was trying to teach you a lesson, show you how good you can feel when someone bothers to give you a little attention.
"Look at you, baby," he praised, how lips still only a hairs breadth from yours, "learning all about your body like a big girl."
jack abbot riding part 2 (feat robby + inspo from a request!)
nsfw, 18+
jack’s hand dwarfed the phone. that’s the first thing you notice.
the second thing is the shit eating grin on his face.
“comfy?” he asks, chin angled down towards you.
you roll your eyes, not wanting to admit that, yes, his boot is very comfortable to straddle. you just whine and put your head on his knee, eyes big and watery as you look up at him.
a crackle comes through the phone. “is that her? i thought i told her to be quiet.”
robby. so fucking demanding, you thought.
“to be fair, brother, i asked her a question.”
you preen - jack’s always there to back his little girl up - even if you technically were told to shut up.
“that didn’t sound like an answer though.”
jack pauses. “good point.”
you find yourself being yanked forward by a firm grip of hair, fingers touching your scalp. the momentum causes your bare pussy to slide across the top of his boot, a pathetic trail of arousal left in its wake.
“i asked if you were comfy, baby. be polite, and answer the question.” jack’s tone was even, almost even a little amused. you could hear robby snort through the phone.
“very comfy.” you mumble, neck strained by the way he’s pulling you.
jack peers around you to inspect his boot. “messy, too. you know you’re going to have to clean that, right?”
you flush, cheeks hot as you can only imagine the ways jack will make you clean his boot after all is said and done.
“should make her lick it up,” robby offers. “like the horny little mutt she is.”
jack and you groan almost simultaneously, both embarrassingly aroused at the thought. jack pushes you by the head down onto his boot, cunt smushed into the toe.
“she’s about to hump like a horny little mutt,” jack grins. “c’mon girl. show us what you’ve got.”
you don’t even hesitate, whining as your cunt slides against the boot, clit bumping the laces every now and then, eliciting a pathetic yelp that robby laughs at.
“how’s our girl look, jack?”
jack tugs you up by the hair again, eyes glazed over as your hips continue to jerk, hindbrain taking over. “like she’s fucked stupid.”
robby laughs again - meanly, you note. “eyes crossing?”
“not yet. figured she’d need my cock in her to really go dumb.”
you start to pant, fingers drifting to your nipples as your climax starts to build.
“ah! no ma’am.” jack tuts, slapping at your fingers. “you know you can’t touch those. those are mine.”
you whine, instead rubbing your tits against his knee, seeking stimulation anyway you can find it.
“jesus mike. she looks pathetic.”
robby exhales, car engine revving in the background. “fuck. wish i wasn’t driving so i could see.”
“yeah, she’s something right now. cunt swollen, mouth open - i don’t think there’s a thought in her little head right now.” jack grins, his hand coming to cup her cheek. “you with us, sweetheart?”
you keen, cunt pressed down hard, rolling your clit into his boot until you come, collapsing into his leg.
you can vaguely hear him and robby talking in the background, but your head is swimming, thighs drenched.
“fuck. that sounded like a big one.”
“oh yeah, brother.” jack lifted you slightly off his boot to see the damage. “she’s gonna have one a hell of a clean up.”
warnings . . . curse words, grinding, lewd conversation, kidnapping????? unserious ofc, is reader overreacting? maybe but u know the drill. want to point out that it’s been a two week timeskip from the cabin/cath coming back. it may seem like the plot shifted but it’s coming…… mwahahahaha
authors note . . . okay.. well.. hi… love you. tell me ur thoughts and I love you and did I tell you I love you also wait.. they’re being vague cause they’re gonna do criminal stuff… not drunk LOL I just don’t want to rework this LMAOAOA
teaching you about your erogenous zones
thanks to the amazing @lostalioth for the idea!
cw: sfw except for nipple stimulation
... ☆ ... c. page ... ☆ ...
... ☆ ... read all doctor!sam ... ☆ ... doctor!sam m. list ... ☆
... ☆ ... He would talk to you all low, his voice quiet and careful even as your body jumps under his touch. 'You're a sensitive little thing, sweetheart. Gotta teach you everywhere you can feel good.'
... ☆ ... He'd start innocent, showing you how his fingers feel ghosting along your lower back, the juncture of your neck, not even teasing you about the way your breath hitches every time he touches your skin. 'These are your nonspecific zones. Not sexual, but just as important for your pleasure.'
... ☆ ... After he gets you used to the pads of his fingers he'll show you his mouth. Licking and sucking like you could shatter any moment and paying extra attention to places nobody has but they should. A gentle graze of his teeth against the divots in your back, suction behind your ear, and kissing it every time you jump as if he had hurt you.
... ☆ ... Your whole body is completely limp, each touch sending you deeper into submission. His voice keeps you tethered, ensuring that you don't slip too far. 'Can you tell me what the area I'm touching is called?' His voice comes from right behind the shell of your ear, and all you can do is wish he would keep mouthing at your hairline. 'Nonspecific zones.' Your words came out a beat too late and slightly slurred, but his hum told you he was pleased.
... ☆ ... He'd ask if you're ready to move on, if you feel like you've learned something, nobly trying to hide his smirk at the way you moan in affirmation. And the sick part is you really are learning; you feel like you're melting into the sheets, the pleasure of simply being touched unlike anything you've ever felt. Before you started he told you that he waited to do this until you were ready. At first you were confused, wondering how this could be more intimate than what you've already done, but trust is what made this so blissful.
... ☆ ... You feel like you couldn't possibly feel better than you already do, but when his finger starts tracing your nipple you feel gone. The light pressure makes your breath catch, and a gentle tug has you leaking onto the sheets. 'This is called a primary erogenous zone. That means that this is a universally pleasurable area.' His tongue circled and sucked, the little hums he let out only adding to the pleasure.
... ☆ ... He'd take everything so slow, dragging out your pleasure in a way no one ever had. 'Just relax. You deserve every moment of this, baby. A gorgeous thing like you is meant to be worshipped.'
but that need, that greed from within, had no clear intention of decline.
“fuck..” he breathed, his chest now heaving as though he was running out of time, “…you’re gorgeous.”
with stable hands, he then lifted you from your tired feet, palms now cradling both your back and ass as he placed you on the end of his bed.
“—absolutely fucking gorgeous.”
mouths then crashed, saliva smearing across skin as he continued to mutter words under his breath,
“fuck me.” he groaned in between the kiss, his lips now traveling down your jaw and onto your throat, suckling on the most sensitive skin as he watched you writhe from beneath.
his knee had been placed in between your thighs, scrubs still on but not for long. with deft hands, he then undid the drawstring to your pants, pulling it down until the hem had settled onto the cleft of your ass.
fingers were now pressing into your clothed cunt, feeling the fabric dampened from his touch while his mouth was now latched onto your collarbone, leaving bruises and hickies in his wake.
“tell me what you want, baby.” his teeth then grazed the thin layer of skin atop the bone of your collar, causing your breath to hitch.
still, relentless as ever, his fingers were now pressing into the divot where your folds had parted, panties now soaked until the slick had coated the tips of his digits in a clear, wet sheen.
he was teasing you, testing your restraint. watching each time your lashes fluttered in momentary estasy while your hips ground into his hand in search of friction.
but when his index circled your clit, motions subtle and circular, he watched as you bucked and keened—voice so pitched as though you were about to whine.
“d-dennis, i-i, you-you… please.” your thighs trembled then, pressing until the plushness of it held his hand firm into place, letting you grind more as you chased that now tangible high.
and cruelly, as though torture was entwined with his pleasure, he yanked his hand from between and slapped the heel of his palm onto your ass.
“use your words, sweetie. ain’t a mind reader.”
you must have cried then, from the sudden lost of his friction and at that sting that was now on your ass.
dennis was strong. needed to be so he could keep working the stables back on his family’s farm. his muscles were not prominent but his physique was clearly toned, enough so that each time you noticed his arms flex, you could feel something pool between your thighs.
“need something inside..” you sucked in a breath, chest heaving in time with your now pulsing cunt.
but when he arched a brow, as if expecting to hear more, you closed your eyes and shuddered.
“pl-please… dennis? p-promise to be good..”
and without warning or even hesitation, he tugged at the fabric of your scrubs until it was off, leaving you bare with only your panties and disheveled camisole to keep you decent.
but that hunger in his gaze meant that the man was not done.
far from it.
he then pushed you into a new position, where your knees were resting on his shoulders while he mouth your still clothed cunt, licking at the slick from the fabric.
you must have seen stars the moment his teeth grazed the hood of your clit, still clothed but the friction alone was delicious—enough so that it had you teetering over the blissful edge.
with the flat bed of his tongue, he pressed it onto your sopping folds, that thin stripe that was the layer of your panties now pulled to the side. the tip then delved in between, teasing the entrance with surprising expertise.
your hands were now weaving and pulling at his hair, chestnut curls poking between your fingers as you cried and begged for more.
more of his tongue. more of his mouth. more of him.
soon, as he narrowed his tongue, he started plunging inside with a punishing pace, the pad of his callous thumb now circling your sensitive nub.
he watched as your hips buckled and bucked without reason or rhyme, breath hitching into pitchy whines while your mouth whimpered out his name in succession.
“de-dennis, dennis—oh my god—dennis!!”
stars were now clouding your vision like gauze—eyes fluttering to a close as your thighs tightened around his head like a vice. shoving your cunt as much as you could against his now soaked face.
“that’s it, sweetie, c’mon. want to taste that cum on my tongue.” dennis encouraged, not once wavering in his pace with both his thumb and tongue.
and before he finished that sentence, you shattered.
a sudden shriek was then torn from your now sore throat, engulfed in both pleasurable pain and breathtaking heights.
and as you collapsed from that sudden, indescribable high—your back then arched off of the bed, thighs drawn tight while your toes curled. hands now clawing at his scalp, sweat dripping down your forehead and staining his sheets.
slowly, so slowly, he then lapped his tongue at your now overwhelmed entrance, aiding you through the euphoric waves until it settled into a more calming stream.
soon, he then unwrapped your thighs from his head, careful as he surged forward until your lips met—the taste of your cum both present on his tongue and lips, but more so as it had sprayed across his reddened face.
“see what happens when you listen to me, sweetie?”
michael robinavitch the type to fuck you absolutely stupid then give you so so many kisses and cuddles afterwards because at the end of the day you're his girl <3
── .✦ MICHAEL 'ROBBY' ROBINAVITCH
★ˎˊ˗ CONTENT 18+ MDNI fem reader, AFAB reader, reader has breasts, descriptive language, aftercare focus (cuddling, praise, etc), hints of possessiveness, fluffity fluff
MASTERLIST | RULES | INBOX
When Robby finally eases the last of his weight off of you, he does so carefully, like you’re an antique he’s terrified of cracking, a jarring contrast to moments ago when he had you folded in half, driving his cock so deep you swore you could taste it, the headboard begging for mercy with every brutal slam.
He groans when the mattress springs back into place. A palm, wide and a little rough, skates down the ridge of your spine as though he needs the touch more than the next breath he’s chasing.
“Christ,” he mutters, half-laughing, half-praying, hair spilled over his brow in damp ringlets. “You all right, sweetheart?”
You mean to answer right away, but your brain is still someone in the rafters, floating among the dust motes he knocked loose out of you.
So what comes out is less words and more a sigh that shivers through every exhausted inch of your body.
His grin spreads, triumphant. “Need a real answer, honey.”
You find your voice, albeit ragged, but present. “M’fine. Floaty.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He leans in anyway and kisses the corner of your slack mouth, lingering until he feels you kiss back. “Stay right there a sec. Gonna grab water, towel, and and see what I can do about the pretty mess I made of you.”
“Cocky,” you mumble, though there's no bite to it. Really, he’s only stating the obvious. You are a mess, he made you one, and Robby is far too pleased with himself about both.
He chuckles, snagging his boxers from the floor. “Call me whatever you want, sweetheart. You’ll still be asking for more once you recover.”
While he’s gone, you stare at the ceiling fan, counting revolutions until everything sounds less like static and more like your own heartbeat again.
By the time he returns, you’ve made it to an elbow. He sets a glass on the nightstand, drops the towel beside it, then crawls back over you on his knees, trailing the towel like a cape.
“Water first.” He nudges the rim to your lips, waiting until you take a sip. “Attagirl.”
The praise hits harder than the water, but you drink anyway, throat working around the cool relief.
When you stop to breathe, Robby wipes a stray drip off your chin with his thumb. “Good?”
“Better.”
“Anything else you need right now, baby?”
You shake your head, too lazy to hunt for words. You just want him back where he was, wrapped around you, body weight crushing you like a weighted blanket.
He seems to read that want plain as ink. He moves the water, folds the towel under your hips for cushion, then lowers onto his side and drags you into the curve of him. Chest to back, his arm bands over you, palm flattening between your breasts.
“Heartbeat’s settling,” he says into your hair. “Thought I snapped the thing right out of you for a minute.”
You snort, the sound embarrassingly fond. “You tried.”
“Yeah, well.” He peppers kisses across your shoulder, each one a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence only he can read. “Wanted to make sure you remembered whose girl you are.”
Your laugh comes out airy. “Possessive much?”
“Extremely,” he admits without a hint of shame. He noses behind your ear. “Listen, floaty girl — next time you spot that mirror in the hallway, take a good look. There’s a hell of a lot to be possessive of.” His teeth graze your lobe; the hand on your chest gives a gentle squeeze. “And lucky me, I got there first.”
“Think you might be a little biased,” you tease, warmth creeping into your cheeks despite the sleepy little smile pulling at your mouth.
A low laugh rolls out of him, all soft thunder against your back. He lets the sound fade into a lazy trail of kisses, mapping collarbone, shoulder blade, the delicate chain at your throat. Each brush of his lips is slower than the last, until he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.
“Of course I’m biased,” he says, pressing another kiss beneath your ear. “Still know what I’m looking at.”
MARIA NOTE lowkey this is dogshit but fuck it wii ball <3
YOU CAN FIND MY MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH MASTERLIST HERE ⭑.ᐟ
something something joining robby on his sabbatical and just spending your time fucking in motels and making out in dimly lit bars in a booth at the back of the room. halfway through the trip, he’s got you on your stomach in a motel bed, his legs either side of yours as he slides his cock in and out of your dripping wet hole. everything feels so fuzzy, hazy and you’re halfway to delirious when it slips out.
“f-feels so good.. dad..”
robby damn near comes on the spot, collapsing down so his chest is pressed to your back as he groans into your neck.
“yeah, honey? dad makin’ you feel good?”
“mmhm..”
he groans again, pressing his forehead to your shoulder before whispering in your ear.
“can’t tell mom about this, ‘kay? just our little secret, honey..”
“promise.. our little secret, dad..”
“good girl.. ohhh, such a good girl.”
robby’s practically grinding against you, squeezing his eyes shut every time he hears the squelching sound of his cock sliding in your hole. he knows there’s people on the other side of the thin wall between the rooms but he couldn’t give two shits what they think. he’s got a pretty little thing in his bed, utterly obsessed with him, calling him dad over and over again as he pounds into her—he’s living the fucking dream.
you’ve worked your entire life for their family, peering at frank from your balcony as you wiped down their fine china, gazing at him while he looks at the other decadent women around you. 23 long years of loyal, hard work & a deep, unrequited love for frank langdon.
you’d turn your head to see the oldest step-brother, jack, discussing business endeavors with his mother’s high society friends. you never thought anything of him; his shoulders always tense & his mouth permanently scowling.
until the time came where frank thanked you for being so sweet & cleaning up after him, and you realized that he never really saw you. so that night you’d made up your mind; set your sights on a new life, a new you. your flight of discovery leaves the next morning.
when you return home, poised & confident & finally understanding your own intrinsic beauty, frank is all over you. in total awe, he follows you around; kissing at your hand and raising his thumb to touch your round cheek in affection.
starry eyed, you never even notice jack. lingering, watching you– always the silent lover. he sees your intelligence, your beauty. he always did. & he’s quite sick seeing frank suddenly fawn over you when you’ve always been so devoted to him.
even sicker when frank gets engaged, and still leads you on. sounds like jack will have to step in. very, very soon.
Pope accidentaly comes across an audioporn app and becomes obsessed with you, a content creator with a roleplaying series about a young woman and her convict boyfriend. He doesn't believe his luck when he discovers that his favorite audio porn star also happens to be Lena's babysitter.
click here to join the taglist. / click here for my main masterlist.
warnings: age gap (reader is mid 20s, pope is early 40s), reader is afab and goes by she/her, reader is lena's babysitter, forming a creepy parasocial relationship with your favorite porn star, sex work, audioporn, stalker!pope, pwp, mommy issues galore, no use of y/n, takes place before the ending of season 1, no physical description of reader, mentions of pope having a mommy kink (but it doesn't play out on page), obsessive!pope, dubcon (non-consensual voyerism, f &m masturbation, dirty talk, sex toys, unprotected piv, squirting, oral, fingering, size kink, rough sex, improper use of a kitchen counter, hair pulling, eating from the back, cleaning the bowl).
rating: +18.
word count: 4.9k.
fox says: hello friends, thank you so much for reading! y'all have no idea how loud i screamed when i saw that shawn is doing an episode for quinn while having this already drafted. the app mentioned is 100% inspired by quinn, i just don't name it in the fic because quinn itself wasn't created until 2019 and it was going to mess up the timeline. also this is my first time writing for pope so pls go easy on me. as always please let me know what we think!
also available on archiveofourown.
Pope Cody was in prison for 1.114 days. In that time, he read 158.5 books; he finished the last one — The Book Thief, which he started reading on day 1.112 of his sentence — as a free man. He’s already finished with The Book Thief when he learns about audiobooks, after a well placed ad for Audible on a self-help Youtube video he listened to while on a stake out.
It takes him another eight books after that to discover audioporn. He comes across the app by accident, and it takes him about seven minutes into the first audio he chose — puppyplay, though he didn’t know what that meant just yet — to realize he’s listening to a porn story.
Pope sticks with it. The stories he listens to don’t do much for his dormant dick, but it’s nice. He likes listening to women whispering about how good of a boy he is, the dirty little things they want to do to him and the things they want him to do to them— A fantasy, something for him to get lost into during the nights he couldn’t fall asleep; a habit acquired in prison, the sort of ongoing vigilance that he couldn’t grow out of even though he now lives a somewhat safe life.
And then he finds you. Your account is called Mommy Dearest, which is why he clicked on it at first, but the one audio that sticks with him has nothing to do with mommy kink: It’s a phone call, about fifteen minutes long, that starts with you rambling about your day and ends with you wailing through an orgasm with a loud vibrator between your legs. You edge yourself for a long portion of it, talking about how much you miss his cock and his fingers and his tongue; and then, close to the end of the call, you say you miss him. You talk about how you miss him and how prison isn’t going to keep him from you, and you giggle and say that, on another phone call, you’ll tell him every single perverted thing you’ll do to him when he’s out.
Logically, Pope knows it’s not real. You’re not talking to him, it’s just a character that you recorded, edited and then posted on a porn app for pathetic men like him but it lands so heavy on his chest he doesn’t even notice he’s hard for the first time in over three years.
You have a whole series on your ‘convict boyfriend’ — which you name Folsom Prison Blues after the Johnny Cash song and Lord help him if that doesn’t do something for him. — and the phone calls and letters and conjugal visits. You sigh and you moan and you describe in full detail what toy you’re using to get yourself off and, when Pope scrolls through the comment section, he gets so angry at all the men that get to listen to you too that he loses his erection.
But he doesn’t stop listening. Pope feels some sort of odd loyalty to you and your breathy little sighs, his heart clenching whenever you whine about missing him, and he whispers into the air vows of finding you, of walking through the doors of your home and taking you in his arms and making sure you’re always full of his cock. He comes over and over again at the thought of you, bent over his couch and his kitchen counters and in his shower— He doesn’t really know what your body looks like, your profile photo is a headshot of you with a sultry smile and bright pink hair he’s fairly certain is a wig, but he thinks he can figure it out; it doesn’t really matter how big or small your tits are, because Pope dreams of falling asleep suckling on them anyway, your fingers tugging on his hair and your legs wrapped around his waist as you say you’ve waited for him, that you love him and that he’s the only man that gets to see you like that.
Pope’s not certain at which point he stops thinking of Cath. It happens naturally, either gradually or all at once, and he only notices when he walks into Smurf’s home one evening and Cath is on the couch, her head on Baz’s shoulder, dozing off after what he presumes is a whole day out by the pool. It used to hurt him deeply to see her like that, cuddled up to a man that Pope knows isn’t good enough for her, but this time he… Feels nothing. Not pain, or annoyance, or jealousy. The only thing he can think about is how he wishes he could have that with you; an afternoon together, laying on the couch, watching a nature documentary— You’d interrupt it every five minutes or so to talk about something else, maybe your shift at your day job or the little shiny trinkets you buy with his money. He knows you’d ask about him, too. About his day and his feelings and whether or not he ate; you’d ask and you’d mean it, you’d want to hear everything he has to say unlike Smurf, who asks but never pays attention, never really listens when Pope speaks.
He’s so lost in his daydreaming that, when he finally hears your laughter, he doesn’t think it’s real. Pope’s eyes fly beyond Baz and Cath cuddling on the couch to find you sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor by the pool, a collection of Barbie dolls spread between you and Lena. You’re in short overalls and a brown and orange striped shirt, your natural hair — not pink, so Pope had been right about the wig — pinned away from your face. A gorgeous, heaven-sent angel that laughs exactly like the girl from the app.
“Who’s that?” He asks, unable to stop himself. His fingers itch to trace the curve of your neck, to spread his fingers over your collarbone.
“Lena’s new sitter.” Baz answers. Pope makes a noise in the back of his throat, trying very hard to pretend that it doesn’t matter but his brother sees right through it. He squints at Pope. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
“I’m not Craig.” He says, but they both know you’re not Craig’s type— Too innocent-looking, verging on the side of boring and not the sort of girl that Craig would look twice at. But Pope would, and he does; he finds a seat in a position where he can watch you from afar while still pretending to pay attention to the TV. You play with Lena until the girl is ready to pass out from exhaustion, and then you bring her inside and settle her on the couch before you finally introduce yourself to him, a sweet smile on your lips as you extend your hand to him.
If your laughter had been enough to remind him of the girl from the app, the way you say your name cements it to be true. It’s you, the pink-haired girl with the convict boyfriend and an extensive collection of sex toys.
Pope doesn’t like shaking hands — too many germs, the contact always making his skin prickly — but he takes your hand in his anyway, squeezing it once before he lets go. He wants to keep holding it, feeling your soft skin his against his roughened one, to put your fingers in his mouth and suck on them until you’re begging for him; you don’t seem to notice the way he lingers, you just accept the cash from Baz with a small nod and wave your fingers at them as you leave.
“I mean it, Pope. Don’t be a creep with the girl.” Baz growls at him later that night, after Cath has already tucked Lena in the backseat of the car and they’re about to go home. “She keeps Lena so busy I get to actually fuck my wife on the regular again. If you fuck this up for me I’ll kill you.”
Pope doesn’t like the way Baz talks about Cath, never has— Like she’s just something for him to get off to, like he needs to rub it in Pope’s face that he’s the one that gets to sleep by her side every night. This time he doesn’t really care, because all he can think about is you.
He doesn’t mean to follow you. He just wants to make sure you get home safe at first, because Baz and Cath make you leave the house later and later each time. And then, when he finds out you’ve been taking pottery lessons twice at week at eight pm, he follows you there because he also wants to make sure nothing will happen— He thinks it’s quite late for a lesson, but you’re always happy when you leave, your face a little flushed from the red wine he sees you drinking from the window.
Pope learns your schedule quite quickly, and he knows he’ll need to have a conversation with you about that. Keeping such a tight routine is easy for someone to hurt you, even if Pope himself understands the appeal of consistency— It’s all he’s had in prison, after all, and it was quite a comforting change from the violent chaos that is living underneath Smurf’s iron fist. It’s easy for him to come up with excuses to hang around Baz’s house whenever you’re there, and even easier whenever you’re at Smurf’s.
Although he follows you home almost every night, Pope has never gotten too close. He’s afraid you’ll see him so he stands back, sits in his car for a couple of hours until your lights go out but tonight is different. You have a date. He follows the two of you to the twenty-four hours diner the guy takes you to, and he watches through the window as you almost fall asleep at the table; he can’t hear the conversation but it’s clear that you’re bored, barely responding to the man even though Pope knows you talk a lot when you’re happy. You’re also not a girl to take to a diner of all places and Pope wants to beat the guy black and blue for putting so little effort into dating you, even if he’s glad his competitor is tanking the date— It means he can whisk you away, dazzle you by showing what being truly courted is like.
You swerve the guy when he tries to kiss you at your front door. Pope is out of his car by then, hiding in the shadows across the street just to make sure the man will leave you alone; he does, even though he speeds off with screeching tires when you deny his kiss for the third time. Pope tells himself that he is only checking in on you, that you’re taking way too long to shut out the lights and maybe something is wrong, as he climbs through the fire escape to your floor— He knows exactly where your apartment is, has watched you open and close your blinds plenty of times before.
He stares through your window carefully, making sure to stay out of sight, and his mouth goes dry when he sees you sprawled on your bed, fully naked. You have one hand between your thighs, your legs spread apart as far as they can go, but Pope can barely pay attention to it— He’s looking at the dildo you’re holding with the other hand; it’s thick, long, and bright pink. Bigger than Pope’s own cock, the sort of big that he doesn’t think it’ll fit inside of you. And you’re licking it. Long, deliberate strokes of your tongue before you spit on the head, watching as it drips down the silicone shaft; you don’t take it into your mouth, not really, but you lick and spit until the thing is dripping before you collect your own slick to rub on it— You’re using your own juices and spit to lubricate it, and Pope feels like he might come in his pants at the thought of you doing the same to him.
You don’t take the toy all the way. You push it inside of you slowly, carefully, one hand rubbing furiously at your clit while the other pushes the pink silicone inside; you stop for a moment, chest heaving but the large smile on your face tells him everything he needs to know— You’re edging yourself, stopping to come down from your high before you go back to fucking yourself on the monster cock between your legs.
Pope’s not even aware of the moment he pulls his cock from the confines of his jeans, spitting on his hand and tugging furiously, his eyes glued to the way you fuck yourself hard and fast— It’s a little clumsy, the angle not quite right, but you’re wailing, shivering and shaking as you shove the toy inside of you as far you can; Pope pictures himself climbing through your window, taking the toy from your hands and fucking you properly with it. He thinks you might let him fuck your ass while the dildo is still inside of you, filling you with flesh and silicone until you’re crying from how full you are, how ruined your pussy and your asshole are.
He comes first, fisting his cock with one hand and stifling his moans with the other, his eyes still glued to you. You shift positions, desperation all over your face as you bring yourself to your knees, sitting on the dildo instead; you ride it hard, bouncing on the toy and in this position Pope can see the way the entire thing disappears inside of you, the fake balls grinding against your clit when you lean forward, your hips rutting with abandon. You come while meaning loud enough that Pope thinks the neighbors might complain, your tits jiggling hard as you push yourself up and down, riding the toy all the way through your orgasm until you topple sideways, exhausted.
Pope stays until you fall asleep, the toy forgotten by your side, your naked body sprawled over the bed. And then he stays a little longer, watching you sleep, his denim and hands still stained with his cum.
Pope thinks you’re getting used to his hovering presence the evening he corners you in the kitchen. You’re always incredibly kind to him, talking a lot when it’s just the two of you even though he hardly ever engages in the conversation apart from giving you his undivided attention; he thinks you might like him, even, your smile always brightening up when it’s geared towards him.
Lena is in bed by then, Cath and Baz gone on a date— Which means Pope has no excuse to stick around after they leave but you don’t seem to mind, swiping up the counter where Lena spilled half of her spaghetti, humming underneath your breath. He’s not sure how to bring it up, how to tell you that he’s been listening and dreaming about you long before you showed up so instead he simply pulls out his phone, opens your profile and slides his phone across the counter.
You stare at it like it’s something rotten, your hands frozen on the marble counter. “Pope—”
“It’s you, isn’t it?” The question is just a formality, a need for you to admit that he isn’t crazy.
“Please don’t tell Barry.” You beg so prettily, your eyes going wide when Pope rounds the counter. “I really need this job.”
“I listened to the entire series.” He mumbles, his hand coming up to brush your cheekbone. Your skin is soft, glittering with sparkling make up and it looks so, so pretty beneath his blood-stained hands. You shiver at the contact, eyes fluttering close before you take a deep breath. “The Folsom Prison one.”
“D’you…” You lick your lips, and Pope needs to use every ounce of whatever little control he possesses to keep himself from kissing you. “Did you like it?”
“I spent three years at Folsom.” He tells you, ignoring your question— He thinks it’s obvious, with the way his fingers drip down to run over the column of your throat. “Would’ve been a lot easier if I knew I had such a pretty young thing waiting for me at home.”
He can see the moment the idea pops into your head; Pope likes to think he can read people pretty well, and he sees the way your eyes fly from his face down to his crotch, his half-hard cock straining through his jeans. He hasn’t gotten hard this easily since he was a teenager, but your smell alone is enough to drive him crazy, let alone the way you blink owlishly at him, your nimble fingers coming up to brush at his belt buckle.
“Promise me you won’t tell Barry.” You lick your upper lip and Pope doesn’t think you even realize you’re doing it, his mouth going dry at the pink that pokes through your teeth. “I’ll give you what you want, but promise me he won’t find out.”
Pope nods, not trusting himself to speak, and you sink to your knees. He’s terrified that he might lose his erection but his nerves turn into blazing desire when you wrap your hands around his cock, pumping him slowly and brushing your thumb against his slit— It feels so much better than his own hands that his knees nearly buckle, Pope gripping the counter as you look up at him, a soft smile on your lips. You take him slowly into your mouth, tongue circling around the head of his cock before tracing the vein on the underside, your eyes never leaving his face. Your mouth is warm and flooding when you finally take him into it, the flat of your tongue pressing against his shaft, one hand on his thigh for balance while the other grips the base of his cock; your rhythm is slow, teasing, and Pope digs his fingernails into the marble to stop himself from grabbing you by the hair— He likes you, perhaps too much, and he doesn’t want to scare you. Maybe you’d let him fuck your face one day, but this time he wants to do this your way.
You take him as far as you can, your nose pressing against his pubic bone and Pope’s eyes roll to the back of his head when your throat tightens around the sensitive head of his cock, a whimper escaping his lips that he tries to stifle with gritted teeth. He’s going to come just from that, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes as you pick up the pace, the wet sounds of your slurping and gagging whenever you swallow too much of him bringing him that familiar tightening at his navel.
Pope grips your hair at last, pulling you away with perhaps a little too much force.
“Get up.” He says, half an order and half a plea. You stare at him through wet eyelashes, still gripping the base of his cock for a long moment before you comply— Pope is about ready to yank you up himself, but you stand on wobbly knees before he turns you around, pressing your front against the counter.
The positions change, with now Pope kneeling behind you while you bend over the counter; you’re in a yellow dress, modest enough that you could run around after Lena all day without showing too much— Modest enough that it would never have anyone thinking you’re the kind of girl to fuck yourself with a silicone cock while saying the dirtiest, nastiest things on a microphone but Pope knows better. He feels like he’s the only person in the entire world that truly knows you, and his hands shake in anticipation when he shoves your dress up to your hips. You hold it in place, taking a deep breath and pushing your ass out even more.
You’re drenched, the gusset of your cotton underwear a shade darker than the rest, your juices starting to run down your thighs. He cusses under his breath, pushing his nose against your core and taking a deep breath. You gasp, surprised, but you still push your ass against his face. Pope leans back just enough to watch as he pulls your underwear down, mouth salivating as the gusset sticks to your cunt, stringy slick connecting the cloth to your skin before he’s letting it slide down your legs.
“All this just from sucking me off?” Pope doesn’t mean to tease, the words more wondrous than anything else. Your entire body shivers when his breath hits your pussy, making you whine. Pope takes pity on you, using his hands to spread you open before his tongue runs across your cunt.
You taste even better than he thought you would. The two of you moan in unison, your hand flying backwards to grip his hair, pushing him against you until he’s struggling to breathe but he doesn’t care— Pope would let you use his tongue and his fingers and his cock however it pleases you, his cock throbbing at the fact that he’s the one bringing you pleasure. He suckles on your clit, nose bumping against your entrance and you keen before you bring a hand to your mouth, trying to keep quiet. He pulls back just a little, watching entranced as you clench around nothing.
“Talk to me.” He asks. “Like you do in your stories.”
“I need your fingers.” You say, voice a little breathy, the pitch just a little higher. It’s the voice you use in the app, still yours, still recognizable, but still different. “Please, Popey, I need it. Been thinking about them for so long, how thick and capable they are—”
The nickname does something to him and Pope whimpers against your cunt, pushing two of his fingers inside of you at once. It’s a snug fit and he can only think about how your pussy is going to strangle his cock, how he’ll stretch you open and leave you leaking with his cum. He moves his fingers slowly but purposefully, crooking them until you’re almost yelling, a string of yesses and his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.
The noises you make as you come might be the prettiest Pope has ever heard, your already tight cunt clenching hard around his fingers, your slick dripping down his wrists as he suckles on your clit until it’s twitching, your hips spasming against him; you slump against the cold granite, whimpering softly when he pulls his fingers out of you but Pope’s not nearly close to being done— He hasn’t been this hard in years, the tip of his cock painfully red and leaking, and there’s nothing that can make him feel better than the moment he sheaths himself inside of you with one deep thrust. It’s a tight fit, perhaps a little too tight, your pulsing cunt tightening so hard around him that Pope thinks you might push him out.
“Fuck, you’re big.” You whine, more pain than pleasure— Maybe he should’ve prepped you a little better, and Pope makes a note to do so next time.
He starts rutting slowly against you, only pulling out a little bit before he pushes back in, his hands gripping your hips. Pope watches where he disappears inside of you, entranced by the stretch of your pussy around him, his cock coming out shiny with your wetness.
“ ‘M so full” You moan, your voice back to the breathy one you use when putting on a show. “You’re everywhere. Biggest cock I’ve ever had.”
His hand tangles on your hair, pulling you back harshly so your back smacks against his chest and you moan. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” Pope growls against your ear, the hand not on your hair digging into the plush of your ass hard enough to bruise. “I saw that toy of yours. Such a naughty little slut, stretching yourself open with a big plastic cock, creaming all over it.”
Your head whips back at him, eyes wide. “What do you mean you saw it?”
As much as he wants to hear your pretty voice singing for him, Pope doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t think you can understand it just yet, how good he would be for you, how well he can treat you.
“Shut up.” He says, picking up the pace of his thrusts; you squirm a little, mouth open in a way that he knows means another question is coming so he slams his hand over your mouth, holding your jaw tightly closed as he pulls your head back against his shoulder. “Just— Shut up.”
He sets an almost brutal pace, his cock pushing in and out of your cunt with indecent squelching sounds and he can see the exact moment that the hand you wrap around his forearm stops trying to pull it away and holds tightly to him, your moans muffled behind his hand.
“Are you going to be good to me?” Pope mumbles against your ear, lips twisting into a small smile when you immediately nod. He lets go of your mouth, then, pushing you back against the counter— He would love to see your face when you come for him, but the sight of the creamy ring you leave around his cock is too enticing to look away, your pretty little asshole clenching whenever he hits the right spot inside of you.
You’re moaning now, hips pushing back against his, your mouth hanging open as you rest your head against the counter. Pope spits, the glob of saliva hitting just half an inch away from your hole and he rubs his thumb against it, pushing just the first knuckle inside of your ass; you’re even tighter there than your cunt and Pope moans, his cock pushing so hard and fast against you that you jostle, your head hitting the marble counter with a loud thud; there’s a small pool of drool next to your mouth, your lips still parted, your moans being punched out of you with every snap of his hips.
“Cum for me.” He all but begs, his voice shaky. “Please, please, cum for me.”
Your body shakes as you come, your wetness splashing against his cock, dripping down his balls and onto his jeans and Pope can’t stop himself. He comes with a loud whimper, both his finger and his cock pushing deeper inside of you. Pope drapes himself over you, his forehead dripping sweat into the tiny pool of drool you left behind and you raise a hand, fingers raking through his hair as the two of you catch your breath.
“Clean me up.” You say. “I can’t go home dripping your cum.”
Pope nods, even though you can’t see his face, and he needs to wait until he stops shivering before he pulls out; he tucks himself and then looks around, trying to find the paper towels.
“No.” You say, looking at him over your shoulder, still bent. “With your mouth, Pope.”
He’s on his needs before you can ask for it twice, lapping at your cunt, licking his own come from inside of you. Your clit twitches when he tongues at it, making sure every single part of you is clean— It takes longer than he thought it might, his cum leaking and leaking and leaking but he does as you tell him to until you’re shaking, his face smeared with a mixture of your wetness and his, fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread when you try to close them, overstimulated— You come again like that, so lost in pleasure that you’re completely silent, squirting all over his lower face.
And Pope, because he’s nothing if not great at following orders, swallow every single drop. He keeps licking and sucking until your entire body spasms and you pull him away by his hair. You yank hard enough to hurt, your fingernails digging into his scalp but all Pope feels is pleasure.
“Now,” You say, smoothing down your dress and leaning back onto the counter. He can see you’re trying to hold some composure but you’re sweating, your lips bitten raw and hair plastered all over your forehead. He notices how badly you’re shaking when you try to push the hair away from your face and Pope interjects, pushing the hair out of your eyes for you. “Now you’re going to tell me exactly what and how you saw anything.”
And he does. The two of you sit down on the kitchen floor, facing each other, and Pope tells you word for word of the night he saw you masturbating on your bed, the way he perched himself outside of your window and touched himself to the image of you. You don’t say anything, silent even when he begs you to say something, sitting on the ground until Baz and Cath come home; you bid them goodnight with an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just squirted all over their kitchen and leave without sparing Pope another glance.
Three days later, Pope gets a notification that you’ve posted a new audio; it’s not an update on the Folsom Prison Blues series but an entirely new one:
Late Night Cravings. It’s the tale of a young nanny that fucks her stalker in the kitchen of her workplace and, in the comments, you promise to soon share another episode.
interest check tag: @mytearsricochetm @that-antler-queen @pearlessance @honey-moon-13 @headcaase @crossfandomslut @slugarchives (i'm not tagging my general list since this isn't a ppcu fic so i just tagged the peeps that showed interest in me writing for pope! no pressure in reading it though 🤍)
rabbot using their girl after a long day, & making you suck each of them off. and getting it all on film.
jack cooing about how well you’re doing while you suck robby’s dick, praising you like the good girl you are. “oh, i know, honey, robby’s bein’ real rough on you. . .but you’re taking it so well, aren’t you, sweet girl?” jack holding the phone with one hand while the other rubs the small of your back, occasionally stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you while robby ruts into the heat of your mouth. jack would capture every second of robby cumming down your throat, watching you struggle to contain every spurt of his thick ropes of cum down your gullet.
robby being so condescending as he fists his hand into your hair, driving you so far down jack’s dick that your nose brushes against his heavy balls. “keep slutting yourself out for the camera, baby. you like sucking daddy off, huh?” he’d croon as you grew teary from the roughness of it all, staring up at jack who was so much sweeter in contrast. robby would put your face in the view completely while jack painted it white, releasing with a pleasured shutter as you milked every drop with your hand.
rabbot who’d tell you what a good girl you are for getting them off ‹𝟹
gummygunk
blakekathryn
