Inlovewithfictionalmenholic

Got adult money & new obsession wish me luck

[bobo-bush]

⠀⠀ᮀ᮫ 🍡়᩠ ⠀⠀ᮀ᮫ 🍡়᩠ ⠀⠀ᮀ᮫ 🍡়᩠ ⠀⠀ᮀ᮫ 🍡়᩠ ⠀⠀ᮀ᮫ 🍡়᩠ ⠀⠀ᮀ᮫

Angie

22. She/her. Supportive Reader 𝜗ৎ

oh. when in doubt I’m gonna take a nap.

Has anyone seen my six-foot-one Cardiac Surgeon husband who loves sweets ?

[iris-enchantress]

| ABOUT ME | MASTERLIST | RULES | PINTEREST | REQUEST |

☾⋆⛦ℜ𝔢𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰݁⛦ᛪ༙

POPE CODY

Sweetheart @pearlessance

Special Girl @pearlessance

Oral Fixation/Obsession @wistfulyears

Chubby, Pervy Pope Cody @wistfulyears

Pope catches you touching yourself and helps out @heavenlybarnesss

Puppy Pope Cody in a shock collar @wistfulyears

Husband Pope Cody x Bimbo Reader @groovyangelkisses

Pope and you in the pool @j4ckr4bbits

Pope loves your clit @j4ckr4bbits

too forward too tease @barnesonfilm

Manipulative Pope Cody sextape @romantic-insomniac

Thick Finger Pope @romantic-insomniac

Makeup prone bone @romantic-insomniac

Uncircumcised Pope Cody @ridgeflaw

Awkward Pope @llhowlett

JACK ABBOT

Dubby Baby Daddy Jack @wistfulyears

Riding ED!Jack's thigh @mast3rbait3r

Puppy Girl w/ Jack @iheartshawn

Jack keeps snacks in his pocket for you @softtachycardia

You ride Jack's phone/thigh @liltrinkets

Doll's Corner @80sfilmclub

You shaved your bush @keytomylockhart

Wrong number @mparksy

fuck it, i love you @astarlinggirl

Pervy dbf! Jack @fayesia

SAMMY BRYANT

Mallcop Sammy Bryant @j4ckr4bbits

Riding Sammy's belly @baransdollie

The right thing @dollsonlyhurt

TITUS DANFORTH

RABBOT

Eiffel Tower @liltrinkets

Mean Robby/ Phone sex @gxtitobxby

Rabbot can't keep up w/ your sex drive @misspossexxive

Summer Heat @yournamesnob

HUCKLEROBBY

AVATAR

working on a key

[bubblegumspacebxtch]

hey, jealousy

Pairing: Jack Abbot x doctor!reader

Summary: Not having seen you in a week has Jack on edge, and to add to his frustration, a certain doctor thinks he can touch what’s his

Warnings || smut, P in V, unprotected sex, implied age gap (Jack is 50 and reader is 30) oral (f!receiving), creampie, rough sex, daddy kink, jealous!Jack is a warning, inaccurate depiction of a hospital workplace

A/N: I had an itch that needed scratching so I wrote it myself. Hope ya’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

****************************************************

Jack had been in a mood for what felt like forever. Your schedules weren’t lining up so the last week or so had been just texts and short phone calls.

Being doctors, you both understood what was demanded of each other. Him as an ER attending and you as a pediatrician, work life balance wasn’t exactly something either of you excelled in.

But when things became official, bit by bit you’d drawn boundaries at work, now refusing to compromise time you could’ve spent with each other.

Still, duty calls, and for over a week, Jack hasn’t seen your face unless it was through a phone screen. Not being able to kiss or touch you in any way has made him an even bigger grouch.

Truth be told, he was loosing it. He’s exhausted and pent up to the point he’d consider giving up his other leg if it meant spending even a little time with you.

So when his rare day off finally comes along, he’s already making the trip to the pediatric ward. With your coffee on one hand and a small excited smile on his face, he wishes the elevator would go faster. He can’t waste even a second.

Jack is already planning the evening in his head. He’ll pick up a few steaks and cook it at his place, not forgetting to grab your favorite wine too. Maybe you’d watch a movie, but he’d probably feign interest because all he really wants to do is make out with you on his lap.

Jack is busy playing out scenarios in his head when he’s stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the hall is you, hair in a loose bun, looking every bit as beautiful even with the fatigue weighing you down. But it’s not the sight of you that has him on pause, rather the hand that’s running up and down your arm.

That blonde pediatric surgeon you’ve introduced to him some time ago is offering you a smile that looks fond, but Jack knew better. He knew that behind those eyes was an attraction you were oblivious to. You offered a polite smile back, mind only half registering what your colleague was saying.

Almost as if you had a sixth sense specific to his presence, you had turned your head, bright smile instantaneous as you watched Jack walk closer to where you stood.

Taking a few steps to close the distance faster, you were quick to wrap your arms around him.

“Jackie…” you murmured as you slanted your head to bury your face in his embrace.

Standing there, finally having you in his arms, the animosity that had started creeping up his veins slowed to a stop, albeit momentarily. He pressed you harder against him, communicating his longing through the hug both of you clearly needed.

Only when an awkward cough came from behind, did you reluctantly release your boyfriend.

“Jack, you remember Dr. Adams.”

If looks could kill, lord knows Dr. Adams would’ve dropped dead on the sterile floor. Jack only offers a small nod of his head in reply.

“Ah Dr. Abbot. Nice to see you again. I was just telling Dr. L/N what a great job she’d been doing with-”

“I’m sure she did. My girl has always been amazing at what she does.”

Your eyebrows crease at that. While Jack has always been a fan of pet names, it’s the possessiveness in his tone that has you tilting your head.

“Well, that’s true. Just the other day, with her patient, she-”

“Actually, I did have something I needed her to look at downstairs. So if you don’t mind…”

Jack was quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, walking back to the elevator with you in tow, not sparing doctor blondie a second glance.

****************************************************

“Ah- fuck, Jack it’s too much- god,”

Jack definitely missed this. You’re panting and whining as he sucks on your throbbing clit, fighting the urge to lock your thighs around his head.

It took him less than 10 minutes to drag you to his truck in the hospital parking lot and even less time to have you screaming his name.

“That’s it… my pretty baby, let me see you cum on daddy’s tongue”

His fingers have replaced his tongue, twisting them upward and curling them just right to hit that spot while his teeth lightly graze your sensitive clit.

“I-I, Jack! Please- Ah ‘m gonna cum” you squeal as he slaps your clit, sending shocks through your body, his stubble further adding to your overstimulation.

“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me,” his words have your muscles seizing up as you squirt into his awaiting mouth.

While he has you catching your breath, Jack is impatiently taking his pants off. You watch with wide eyes as he strokes his hard cock, tip an angry red, desperate to sink into your heat.

He’s gentle when he lifts you unto his lap, smiling softly at your flushed face as you settle your knees on either side of him.

Jack can’t wait for long, not when your soft hands have wrapped around his length, lifting your thighs up as you sink down on him slowly.

You let out a broken moan at the stretch of his cock. It’s been awhile, the frustration and impatience catching up to you as well.

More than a week without his touch and your pupils are dilating as you watch Jack throw his head back as you take him deeper inside.

“Fuck, there you go, my baby girl, so perfect, all mine” you mewl at his praise, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you as he rubs on your clit again with a rough thumb.

Jack bounces you softly at first, relishing in your little gasps as you adjust to his size. His length has always been a challenge, and your time apart makes him extra gentle with you despite the animalistic urge to lift you up and slam you back down his cock till he hits the very back of your insides.

He leans forward to suck and kiss your tits as you begin bouncing faster on his cock. He lifts one hand before landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“That’s it, baby… you’re so good to me, princess”

The pressure deep in your belly is overwhelming as Jack thrusts up to match your movements. The kiss you share is desperate and filthy. Your cries filling the small space.

“You going to cum for me? Yeah, baby c’mon- make a mess on my cock,”

That sends you over the edge. The absolute filth that comes out of Jack’s mouth is downright sinful. He has you shaking in his hold, coming hard for a second time.

Jack doesn’t take long after that. His hold on your waist is bruising as he keeps you rooted to the hilt while he cums inside you.

You’re breathing heavily as you collapse on his chest, your insides still warm from his release. Neither of you speak as you revel in the bliss of your orgasms.

Jack is planting soft kisses to your neck and shoulder when you finally find your voice.

“This was what you wanted to show me?” You teased. “The backseat of your truck? For you to fuck me in?”

Jack grumbles as you giggle.

“I was gonna invite you over to my place. Cook you dinner, ya know? Just wanted to spend time with my girl” he whispered the last part as he nuzzled into your neck

“I was gonna wait for you till your shift ended but then doctor Ken had his hands all over you” Jack continued.

“Doctor Ken?”

“That Ken doll looking, blonde idiot”

“Oh my god… are you,” Jack groans and hides his face deeper in your neck.

“You’re jealous of Dr. Adams?” Your tone carries your amusement at the situation.

“He’s obviously into you,” Jack whines. “Looking at you with hearts in his eyes, all lovey dovey and shit”

You’re laughing harder now, relishing in the way Jack is blushing at your delight.

“You know you have nothing to worry about right?” You pull Jack’s head back so he’s looking into your eyes.

“Dr. Adams is just a colleague, if anything, him acting that way towards me knowing I have you just makes me want to set the record straight with him.”

“You sure I can’t just punch him?”

“Dr. Abbot!” You gasp. “That’s no way to treat the other doctors,” Your face gives way to a teasing smile.

“Doctors aren’t supposed to fuck each other on the job either but that’s never stopped us”

You slap his chest at the crude remark and Jack can only laugh at your embarrassment.

“Your shift ends in a few minutes so I think we can go straight to my place, sweetheart”

“At least let me get my things before we leave”

“Mmmm you’re gonna walk back to peds and say goodbye to doctor blondie while my cum drips out of you? That’s so fucking hot, I-”

“Jackie!”

****************************************************

A/N: Jack Abbot can get it any day idfc we ride that shit till dawn

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 06

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Rafe's mind is spinning.

He didn't have a plan when he barged into your house. It was short-sighted and willed by his temper. All he knew was the hot, pulsating jealousy raging inside of him and he couldn't do anything to contain it. He knows you're nothing more than a fake title created to impress his father. He knows he can have any other woman in the world. He knows you two aren't real. But, for some reason, despite the lack of formal commitment, he wants you—your sharp mouth, your kind heart, your ability to tease and challenge him in one breath—all to himself.

The idea of sharing you with someone else—a Pogue, nonetheless—irritates and angers him. Because it means that a Pogue can beat him. Is better than him. More suited for your time and trust than him.

And deep down, he knows it's true.

Since you fucked Maybank, there's nothing he could do to change that. Instead, he needs to prove to you, someway, somehow, that he was better.

You said nothing when he wrapped his hand around your throat, your eyes slightly widened and your lips part. His gaze traces the outline of your features, trying to read every minuscule detail to figure out what you're thinking.

"Speak." He demands, his jaw clenching down, his desperation boiling over. Your words are mute. "Fucking talk."

You can't. You're preoccupied with the presence of Rafe Cameron in your home, just a few feet away from your sisters from discovering him, from seeing him here, that it renders you without a response.

"I—" You stutter, your soft eyes meeting Rafe's hard ones. "You're not supposed to be here."

Those weren't the words he wanted to hear.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You lay a hand on his wrist, not necessarily pulling him off, but in preparation to. You don't answer his question, anxiously looking to the back door. You squint through the tinted screen to see if your siblings are still running around the yard, no signs of them returning to the house soon.

This move—you looking away from Rafe—twists something ugly inside of him. Rafe interprets your glance as another way to look for them, the Pogues; the people who are better than him. His hand slides from your throat to cup your chin, forcing your sight back on him.

"Who the fuck are you looking for?" He snaps, his gaze darkening with each second, pupils dilating, the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. "Maybank? Are you looking for your other boyfriend?"

You didn't bother acknowledging what he's saying. He's always saying shit. You place a hand on his chest, ready to push him out of the front door but he refuses to budge. "You really can't be here, Rafe, I'm so serious—"

"Or what?"

He hears nothing but the sound of his own blood. He can't do this. He can't stand that you're choosing Heyward and Maybank over him. That they're more important than him. That they get to stay but he has to leave.

He wants to be here too.

You inhale a shaky breath, worry edging around your heart at the idea of one of your sisters walking in. You can't afford that.

"Where's your room?" He demands, his words are sharp and filled with authority. His tolerance slipping. You don't answer him immediately and his grip on your chin tightens. "Either you tell me or I'm going to fuck you right here and I don't fucking care who sees."

His threat is real. Your panic spikes.

Having no other choice, you pull yourself out of his grip—something you know he allowed—and grabs his arm, navigating him deeper into your house. Something about it rubs you wrong; the way he's getting to see more intimate details of your home, where you grew up, where you've been surviving for the past twenty-two years. It's getting access to something you've shielded from most people.

Stepping into the small master bedroom, you close the door behind you, disregarding any attempts to lock it. It's broken.

You turn back to Rafe with a gentle gaze; you don't know where to start this conversation.

"I—"

You don't need to. The next thing you know, his lips are on you and he's kissing you, the blunt force of his sudden action slams you against the back of your door with a loud creak. His hand travels to cup the underside of your jaw, guiding him closer.

It takes you by surprise but you find yourself reciprocating him, the familiar slant of his mouth pressing against yours slowly dissolving any panic, calming your turbulent mind to one focus.

But his touch isn't anywhere soft or gentle. It was rough and demanding, punishment easing its way through his will and onto you.

Rafe breaks the kiss to descend down your open neck and you tilt your head to give him more access, a delicate sigh leaving you. His hand finds itself under your baggy tee and cups your breast. "You think Maybank can make you feel this way?" He whispers against your warm skin, his fingers lightly grazing your nipples in a way that makes you arch into him. "That he can fuck you better?"

When you don't answer him, your mind too muddled to correct him, he pulls back. His eyes are hard. "Do you?"

His insecurities are getting to him. Your lack of response is getting to him. Now knowing that JJ Maybank—a no-named Pogue from the rough side of The Cut that has nothing—could be a potential suitor for you, it opens up the idea that you can be taken away. From him. From this.

He hates it. He hates you.

"Rafe." You start gently, trying to calm him down. It does the opposite. It's only pissing him off more how you can't give him a direct yes-or-no. "I didn't—"

He pushes himself off of you. Taking a step back, his cold eyes scans your clothed figure.

"Take it off." He commands lowly. "Fucking take your clothes off."

You can hear the fury in his voice, how tense and dark it is. You don't try to argue as your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your shoulders. Your shorts and panties soon follow and you're left with nothing but complete bareness for him.

Your body is insane and his erection hardens in his pants at the sight of you. Standing before him; obedient and naked. He can't help but come to the conclusion that it's only for him to see, for him to touch and please.

And he has to share that?

Fuck, no.

He just has to remind you of that.

Rafe steps forward and captures your lips once more, his large frame covers you with warmth. Now, without your clothes, his hands travel all over—playing with your tits, pulling at your hips, spreading apart your thighs against the door. His mouth leaves yours, sucking on your neck and leaving marks on the curve.

He rolls your nipple between his rough fingers. "These are mine," he declares, tugging them in a manner that makes you arch into him, a mewl leaving your lips. Your mind growing dizzy. His hand lowers to cup your pussy. "This is mine too. I thought we went over this, sweetheart."

You shudder at his touch. "We did."

"Then why the fuck are you letting Maybank touch what's mine?" He growls, his fingers grazing against your slit, teasing you with slow strokes. You arch into his hand, only for him to hold you firm by your hips. "Not so fast."

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your pleading eyes finding his. "I'm aching."

His jaw tightens, conflicted between two things. He wanted to torture you further, slow and agonizing, but he can't help but take in the look on your face that's begging him to fuck you, against this door, hard and fast.

He had to look away, back to your cunt, spreading apart your folds. "Fuck, you're wet," he groans, your arousal collecting on his fingers. You throb at his feather-light touches. "Tell me it's all because of me."

His mouth captures a sensitive spot on your neck, just behind your ear, that you can't help but do anything to what he says. "It's all because of you," you confirm, which grants Rafe to add more pressure on your clit. "Just you, Rafe."

He loves hearing his own name coming from your lips. With satisfaction, his fingers finally plunge into your pussy and he begins to pump. You gasp at the intrusion.

His fingers curl inside of you. "I bet that Pogue doesn't make you feel this fucking good." He asserts.

"Never." You shake your head vigorously, tipping your head back against the doorframe as Rafe works in-and-out of you. The sound of your pussy squelching echoes through the small room. "Oh, fuck, right there. That feels so good."

He adds a third finger. "Oh, god."

"You're so fucking tight," he whispers into your ear, watching your face twist in ecstasy as he stretches you out. "Can't even fit it all the way in."

Pleasure and pain rides together as you mutter no audible words and feel the familiar knot tightening in your lower belly, rising in crescendo.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" He taunts, feeling the way you clench around him, challenging him to pump you further. You nod fervently, moaning with containment. "Right here against this door?"

"Yes, yes."

He pulls his fingers out.

"Get on the bed." He orders, watching with sick amusement at the way your face twists in frustration from the emptiness of his touch. He's proud to make you feel this way. "On all fours. Now."

You want to argue, but you're aching all over. The orgasm on the reachable horizon slowly fading away with each passing moment, that you end up obeying him. With a huff, you go to your unmade bed and settle on the mattress with your knees and palms.

Rafe smiles cruelly, taking in the mental image of you waiting for him. He quickly strips out of his clothes, his cock red and swollen, dripping with precum from the strain. But, when he steps up behind you, he doesn't immediately enter you. No, he wants to make you beg for it.

His fingers trace your wet entrance and you flinch at how sensitive it is. "Aw, my poor baby," he mocks, his voice lacking any sincerity, "do you want to come? Do you want me in you?"

It's so degrading how much you're willing to submit. To reach your release. But, nonetheless, you nod with abandon, every second passing is another unbearable heat between your legs.

"Use your words, sweetheart or I'm not fucking you," Rafe declares sharply, his ringed finger brushing against your clit and running light, broad circles. "I know you know how to use that mouth."

It's too much.

"Rafe, please," you beg, "please come inside me."

Your words make him impossibly more hard, that he couldn't take it any longer. He lines himself behind you, before slamming his cock into your pussy.

The pleasure hits you instantaneously, that you had to bite your bottom lip to contain the loud moan threatening to make itself known. You can't have that. Your sisters are just right outside your wall.

His rhythm is sharp and quick, his movement uncontrolled. "See what happens when you listen?" He grunts, the feeling of you wrapped around him is so fucking perfect. "When you do what you're told?"

"Yes, yes," you mewl, your arms giving out and you sink into your pillows from the force Rafe is pounding you from behind. "I'll be good, I swear."

Rafe anchors himself in a way that allows him to hit your g-spot with precision. You moan louder this time, forgetting your desperate attempts of keeping your voice down. "Oh god, just like that," you encourage, as he feels your walls flutter around him for the second time. "I'm ab–about to come."

He pulls out again.

This time, frustration and anger rolls over you. You're aching terribly bad, the knot in your stomach is growing uncomfortable from the lack of release.

Rafe says nothing as he grabs your waist, hauling you upright as his strong arms wrap around your front. You let out an irritated whine, your peak fading once again.

"What the fuck?" You cry out, on the brink of tears, as your spine rests on Rafe's chest and you feel his hard erection pressing against the small of your back. You know he had to be aching too. "Why'd you pull out?"

He chuckles darkly. "Want me that badly?"

"I want your dick."

He doesn't answer you, his free hand lowering. You can't see it, but the smirk of his face is full of self-satisfaction and pride.

"You can't punish me." You declare, remembering his words earlier. You wonder if this is part of it; leaving you on the edge for so long, you're going to explode. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Rafe begins to run tight circles around your clit, your swollen nub causing you to jolt into his touch by surprise. His speed quickens, drawing you back to your climax.

"Does this feel like punishment to you?" He whispers while you're writhing before him. Your head tipping back on his shoulders while your body is weakening from the strain of past attempts. "Do you want to come?"

You nod your head eagerly, one of your hands enclosing his to make sure he doesn't leave you empty again. "Yes, please."

"Who's fucking you?"

"You."

"Who makes you feel this good?"

"You." You whimper, your orgasm is so close.

"Say my fucking name."

"Rafe." You let out a moan, his cooled ring brushes against your slit and makes your sensitivity heightens. Your hand tightens its grip around his. He chuckles at the sight of your desperation. "God, please, keep doing that. Please don't stop."

Rafe's starting to know your body. Know when you're about to come. He wants you to remember. Fuck the names—the whole idea—of any other men from your head. Only his.

His fingers quickens as he lays sloppy kisses against your open neck. Your hips bucks, your thighs shaking, and your breathing shuddering. The little moans you're letting go, more contained than anything he's heard before, is a mere challenge to his ears. He wants you to be loud. He wants them to hear.

"Come on, baby," he whispers tenderly. "Come for me."

You come on his hand, slumping back against his broad chest as you catch your breath. Rafe doesn't allow you to gather yourself, flipping your position as he lays against the mattress.

Your heart is slowly calming. You blink at him through the haze of your post-orgasm.

"Ride me." He instructs, leaning back against your headboard.

Your breath hitch as he gestures to you to come forward, which your body auto-pilots and follows. You anchor yourself over his cock, lining the hard length at your entrance as you slowly sink into him, hissing from the sensitivity of your recent release.

You're taking your sweet time to get adjusted and, with thin patience and him needing his own orgasm, Rafe grabs your hips and draws you down completely, causing him to fill you to the hilt.

"Fuck," you whine, your eyes teary from the sensation of your overstimulation. You look up to him, wanting to get off, but his hands stay on your hips. "I don't know if I can..."

A hand leaves your side to cup your chin. "You want to make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?" He taunts. "Isn't that fair?"

You let out a shaky breath before you begin to rock your hips against him, finding a speed where you can control. Rafe groans at the way your body rolls, the way your walls grip him, that he leans back against the headboard.

Your pleasure builds once again, eyes fluttering close, taking in everything. Every spot his cock is hitting, every pressure point he meets, every buzzing feeling in your body. It's all because of him.

One of your hands rubs your clit while the other plays with your pierced nipples. Rafe watches with intent as you chase your own pleasure.

"I love seeing you play with your tits," he groans, because truly, something about you playing with the little metal barbell between your fingers, twisting and pulling, drives him fucking wild.

"Yeah?" You challenge, leaning over. He raises himself, taking a nipple in his mouth as your hands are splayed across his chest to steady yourself. The sensation of his warm mouth sucking and your angle at which you grind against him—you feel yourself rising to your climax again while his cock twitches inside of you.

His arm locks you in an embrace as he comes. His cum spills inside as you straighten yourself back up, rubbing your clit once more, bouncing up and down on his dick as you allow him to ride out his high while you chase yours. His hands lazily slides to your thighs, gripping them as you go faster and harder, your wetness dripping over his abdomen and you tip your head back with an uninhibited moan.

"Fuck." You cry, knowing that that was one of the best orgasms you had, and with how loud you were, embarrassment follows. Rafe sees the look on your face and smirks, knowing he made you break one of your rules.

You slump on his broad shoulder, catching your breath as his hand rests against the small of your back, his fingers caressing your arched spine. You haven't lifted off of him; his cock still warm and softening inside of you.

Worn out, you manage to pull yourself off of him and fall back against the hard mattress. It's nothing like the one you laid on at Rafe's bedroom. With a harsh breathing pattern, you watch the ceiling, waiting to return back to normal.

Rafe follows a similar method, refusing to look at you afterwards, that you twist your head to look at his profile.

You can tell he's in deep thoughts. It pulls you back to when he came into your house, when he stepped into your sanction with this look—this anger. It was nothing like it was before, like it was with his father. This was something completely different.

"I didn't fuck JJ." You whisper in confession, hoping it would ease something out of him, and watching as Rafe finally turns to you with a look of surprise.

"You didn't?" He hates how elated his voice sounds. He tries to suppress the emotion with the blanking of his features, to appear detached, but you caught on.

"No." You smile softly. "He's like a little brother to me. I can never imagine myself doing that."

Rafe's chest lightens. Tremendously. He didn't realize how heavy it felt until you said that. But, his doubt still remains.

"Why was he in your house, then?"

"I was patching him up," you say with a sigh, pulling yourself into a sitting position. Rafe had the urge to grab your wrist and pull you back down. To be here with him a moment longer. "His... something happened. Got into a fight. I was just helping him."

His jaw ticks, "he could've gone to the hospital."

"Do you forget we're poor?" You turn back to Rafe with a defeated laugh. He looks so big in your bed, so out of place, like he doesn't belong. That this world could never be something of his. "Insurance is expensive. The hospital takes forever. I'd rather take care of them without them spending hundreds on normal injuries."

Rafe says nothing as he watches you. Trying to understand you. He's coming up mostly blank.

But, he realizes one thing.

You do that. You help people when they don't deserve it. You even helped him after a fight when he was being a complete asshole to you at Topper's party. Your instinct is so friendly, so giving and undeserving, he doesn't know what to do with this.

It elevates the sentiment that, perhaps, his father was right.

"That doesn't explain why I couldn't be here."

This one, you hesitate to answer. You look away, to the bedroom door where the lock doesn't work and knowing, if your sisters decided to barge into your room right now—there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. Fear pricks your chest again.

"Hey." He places a hand on your back. He couldn't beg you to respond. That's pathetic. "Answer me."

"I..." You let out a reluctant sigh. "I didn't want my sisters to see you."

This surprises him. "You have sisters?"

You nod, not supplementing more information. You already revealed too much.

His brows furrowed together. "What do you mean? I'm good with kids."

You chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. "Yeah, probably with making them, but you can't meet my sisters."

"Why not? Are they scary?"

"No, they're like eight and twelve."

"Then what's the fucking problem?"

"I..." You mess with your hands, trying to rid yourself of this discomfort. You hate telling people about yourself. "I don't bring guys home to meet my sisters. Not unless it's serious."

Not unless it's real.

You think it's all the bedtime stories you read to them. Of princesses and princes, of fairytale endings, and they have this fantastical expectation of love that only happens in books. They want you to find that same love, to be happy, and they get so attached whenever you bring someone new home. Like it could replace the hole in their hearts with your missing parents. So, you try not to get their hopes up.

Because you know. Whatever is going on with Rafe is not your storybook ending. It can't be. You're nothing more than a fake girlfriend, someone he fucks whenever it's convenient, someone he doesn't even consider a friend. Even if you're starting to feel something more, to see him beyond his privileged, over-pretentious self, you agreed to those terms. You're going to stick with it.

Rafe doesn't say anything in return.

The back door squeaks open and your eyes widen as you hear your name being called from the hallway, footsteps approaching your bedroom.

"Don't come in!" You shout to whoever is behind the broken door, their steps pull to a halt.

"Why?" JJ asks. You can see from the corner of your peripheral, the way Rafe's jaw tightens at the sound of the Pogue's voice.

"I'm... I'm naked."

He chuckles with amusement. "I'm sure I can take a peak," he teases, testing the door as it creaks from the disengagement.

Rafe sits up, ready to fight the Pogue, but you lay a flat hand on his chest.

"If you open that door, JJ, I'm going to kill you."

He laughs. The door falls back into place, the deadbolt sliding into the latch, before announcing. "Alright, whatever. I'm just telling you that I'm heading out with Pope so your sisters are going to be alone out here."

"Thank you." You say, your heart is still racing. "I'll be out in a minute."

JJ bids a farewell as his footsteps retreat, and you turn back to Rafe. His expression is unreadable, his thoughts elsewhere.

"They know your sisters?"

You can't decipher the tone in his voice.

"We grew up together, of course they know." You answer, hearing the familiar roar of JJ's bike engine leaving your driveway. You turn back to Rafe. "You gotta go."

He doesn't move when you get up from your mattress, putting your clothes back on.

"What if I want to meet your sisters?"

The inquiry, so genuine, stops you in your tracks. "For what?" You question, tilting your head to the side.

He shrugs.

"I..." You don't know what to say. How the earnest attempt brings a feeling of warmth and buzz to your stomach. "This has nothing to do with our arrangement."

Rafe sucks in his cheeks, swallowing hard, before nodding. "Right."

He gets off the bed and redresses himself silently. Nothing else to be said. He doesn't bother to turn to you to bid a farewell before he goes. Just as he's about to open the bedroom door, you stop him.

"Go through the window."

"What?" His brows pull together. Irritation flares in his expression. "No."

"Either you do that or you have to wait till my sisters are off to bed."

"So what if they fucking see me?" He snaps, making another move towards the door. He didn't understand why it bothers him so much that you're hiding him from your family. He doesn’t care if he breaks one of your stupid rules. You grab his arm before he makes another break.

"No, I'm serious, Rafe." Your voice is firm. "This is one of those things you can't just decide on your own. You have two choices. Pick one."

He's frustrated. He's a bit pissed. He's angry with himself. He can't complain about you wanting to set boundaries with him, with this relationship, because it makes sense. Because, if it was anyone else, it would've been perfect for him.

He shouldn't want to meet your sisters. He shouldn't feel this unburden urge to impress them. To make them like him more. He shouldn't care about you—beyond what you can offer with your end of the bargain—but he fucking does. And he can't fucking stand it.

All he knows right now is he can't bear to be in the same room with you right now. He needs to be alone. With others. People who don't give a shit about him the way you do. Smoke. Drink. Attend one of those parties someone on the island is hosting.

So, he leaves. Through the fucking window, like a teenager again, trying not to get caught by the parents. When he treks to his car, his phone is already in his hands and he was dialing up one of his buddies, asking where the next rager is.

—

You arrived at Sailor earlier than opening time to make up for your absence yesterday. It’s at the same time Heyward opens his shop, that you manage to meet him on the docks as you're unlocking the bar.

He calls you out by name.

"Hey, Mr. Heyward," you greet with a smile, turning to him. "What's up?"

"Hey." He stops just a couple of feet away from you. His expression flits with trouble. "I just... I wanted to tell you that Aaron stopped by here yesterday."

Your heart stops.

"And, I don't know if you know, kid, but messing around with someone like him is—" You cut him off.

"I know." You say gently, adrenaline pulsing through your veins at this reveal of information but you can't let him know that. You plaster on a look of normalcy, trying to calm him down from his worry. The man has known you and your family forever and he can almost be seen as a second father figure to you, but the way he over-extends himself to make sure you are fine makes you uncomfortable. "It's... it's probably nothing."

"Y'know, Luke Maybank got caught up with Aaron once and—"

"I know." You say again, this time, a bit firmer. This get Heyward to back off on you. "Don't worry. I got it handled. Thank you for telling me."

He's watching you, full of concern and wonderment about what's going on with you. You're just a kid, with too much on your shoulders, taken on too many responsibilities at a young age. He's afraid something is going to happen.

"Be careful." He warns, knowing that's all he can offer with what you're giving him. You nod appreciatively, just as he departs back to his shop.

You watch as his figure disappears into his store, and when he's gone, you release a heavy breath. God, Aaron was here? And you weren't? This drives panic in your system, because you know the man doesn't bother you physically unless a deadline is approaching.

You were afraid. You were getting stressed. You have to plan your next steps.

But, you couldn't think of that right now. All you can do is twist the key in the lock and enter the bar, starting your day. 

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR PF: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @lafavoritaangel / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack / @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yangg / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron

Navigation — Part 05 | Part 06 | Part 07

[cherryambition]

Last Night's Mascara

~18+, MDNI please~

Med school!Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader Oneshot

Last Night's Mascara by Griff

Summary You stumble into your brother's apartment Sunday morning looking for a shoulder to cry on. You find his best friend, Jack's, shoulder instead.

W.C. 6k

Tags No use of y/n for reader insert, Hurt/comfort, flirting, brother's best friend, explicit smut, oral (f receiving), protected p i v sex

Author's Note This is @hatosypex fault btw! I've been thinking about flirty med school Jack a lot lately and now here we are :) enjoy!

xoxo

You use your spare key to open the door.

“Wyatt, I’m coming in, make sure you’re decent,” you say, kicking your shoes off at the entrance.Your feet have been screaming the entire ride here, and it feels good to walk barefoot on the cool hardwood flooring.

You don’t hear a response, which doesn’t surprise you. He’s probably passed out still, which is fine. You have no problem rudely waking him up.

“Uh, Wyatt’s not here,” the voice makes you freeze. 

Not Wyatt. Of course not. His roommate.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath, turning slowly.

Wyatt’s med school bills were torturous. He and Jack Abbot have been best friends since the first day of class, and have been living together for almost 3 years now.

So now you’re standing in the front hall. In last night’s skin-tight dress. With last night’s mascara streaked down your face. 

A complete smoke show, obviously.

“Good morning. I think”, Jack says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He’s still in his pajamas, flannel pants and an old t-shirt that rides up just a little as he reaches behind him.

Your eye twitches. You take a deep breath. 

“Where is my brother?” you ask, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Out,” Jack says flatly. He starts moving towards the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

“I think I’ll just- I’m going to go,” you say, bending down to pick up your shoes. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack looks at you. “Wyatt would kill me if I let you leave like that. Have some coffee, get cleaned up, and maybe tell me what’s going on.”

You’re tired. You’re so tired. Your throat is raw from crying in the back of the rideshare, and you wanted nothing more than to crumple up in your brother’s arms and bitch and moan all morning.

Not sit awkwardly in the kitchen with his very attractive roommate, who you have only interacted with a handful of times.

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. You pull out your phone and try to call Wyatt, but he’s not answering.

Jack pulls a chair away from the kitchen table and walks towards the coffee machine, clearly intending for you to take a seat.

“Did Wyatt say when he would be back?” you ask, sliding into the chair.

“He went out last night on a date,” Jack says, rifling through the cabinets. “My guess is that it went very well.”

“Gross,” you groan.

Jack sets an aspirin and a glass of water down in front of you. No comment, no jabs, just sets it down and turns away. You pop the aspirin immediately.

Jack pours coffee into two mugs and sets one in front of you. You inhale the steam, trying to  stop replaying last night in your head. Every time your mind wanders to something else, you find yourself right back there.

“So,” Jack clears his throat. 

“Don’t do that,” your eyes snap to him.

“Do what?” He finds this amusing, clearly.

“You don’t have to pretend you care. Your place was closer than mine. I just need a second, just to get my head on right, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you take a long sip of coffee. “Also this tastes like shit.”

“I’ll let Wyatt know that we need to up the beverage budget,” Jack smirks into his mug. “And, you’re the one sitting in my kitchen at 7 o’clock in the morning. I’m not pretending. I care.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” you shrug, trying to seem stronger than you feel. “It’s not like we know each other like that.”

Jack nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. For a moment you think you’ve upset him, your brash early morning irritation rubbed him the wrong way. Jack grabs a tea towel and runs it through the sink before rounding the table. He pulls a chair close to you and sits down, your knees nearly knocking together. 

“I know I don’t have to,” he says softly. He says it like he wants to make sure you believe him. Like it’s the only thing that matters right now. “Trust me, I care.”

You don’t respond. You’re too busy trying to monitor your breathing. 

Jack leans in close and gently dabs the tea towel under your eye, the cool water wiping away the mascara and calming your red, puffy eyes. You see small black flakes fall away on the towel with every gentle stroke.

“Who made you cry?” he says so quietly, so softly, it’s almost like the words barely make it from his lips. It’s so tender, it makes you want to weep. If you had any tears left, you might have. 

The memory makes you shut your eyes and almost physically recoil. 

“It’s-” you sigh. “It’s dumb.”

“Try me,” Jack says. He leans back in the chair, setting the towel down and nudging the coffee closer to you.

“I went out with a friend last night. It was a bar that we’ve been to before, just for a few drinks and some dancing, nothing crazy.”

Jack watches you intently as you speak, like there’s nothing else in the world more important than this story. 

“I met this guy,” you look away from him, suddenly embarrassed. “And he was nice and sweet and funny. I don’t know, I just liked talking to him.”

When you look back, Jack’s face has changed. Just slightly. His jaw tenses. 

“Did he hurt you?” Jack asks quietly.

You close your eyes for a moment and inhale deeply. 

“I thought he liked me. I thought we were like, I don’t know, hitting it off,” you take a breath. “We hung out all night pretty much. At some point, I had so much to drink. He offered us a ride and took us back to my friend's place. I didn’t even realize he had come up with us.”

Jack leans closer, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s still listening.

“I woke up this morning on her couch,” you say quietly. “Alone. And they were in her bed. Together.”

“They slept together?” Jack asks.

You nod.

“I guess it wasn’t me he was after,” you shrug. “I feel so stupid. I left immediately and came here.”

Frustrated, hot tears well in your eyes. One slips down. Before you can wipe it away, Jack reaches out and drags his thumb over your cheek. You close your eyes and resist the urge to lean into his warm touch.

“You’re not stupid,” he says softly.  “That guy’s an idiot. And your friend sucks.”

You snort, running a tired hand over your hair. You drop your face to avoid his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I’m realizing that now.”

“You’re incredible, just so you know,” Jack says, moving his face down to catch your eye. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you say, your lips pulling into a flat line. “But you don’t have to say that just to make me feel better. I’ll be okay.”

Jack is so close to you, you can smell the coffee on his breath. “I’m not just saying that because you’re Wyatt’s sister,” he says. 

Wyatt’s sister. When Jack says it, it almost cracks the illusion. This is Wyatt’s best friend. His roommate. Your heart pounds in your chest and you suddenly feel overwhelmed.

You rise abruptly from the chair, so fast your stomach lurches. Jack’s eyes follow you up.

“Can I shower here?” you ask.

“Y-yeah,” Jack blinks.”Of course.”

Your brother is a fucking twig, so Jack gives you one of his worn sleep shirts and a pair of shorts to change into. The hot shower settles you. Soothes your skin and clears your senses. It brings you back down to earth a little. 

Not enough to stop thinking about Jack’s attention on you as he wiped your eyes or listened to you. But enough to remind you that nothing would ever happen with him.

You dry off in the bathroom and slip into the shirt and sleep shorts. It’s odd, being so surrounded by Jack. His clothes, the way they smell. 

When you leave the bathroom, Jack is sitting on the couch. His eyes fall to you immediately, taking in the sight of you in his clothes, your hair still damp. He swallows. You blink.

You can’t do this with him. Not right now.

“I’m going to,” you point to Wyatt’s room. “When Wyatt gets back, I’m in here.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jack rises from the couch, rubbing his hands on the front of his flannels. He approaches you slowly. “Need anything else?”

“No,” you give a small smile. “You’ve been really sweet. Thank you, Jack.”

“Anytime,” he smiles. Both of you linger in each other’s eyes for just a moment longer.

You’re the one to break the spell, slipping into Wyatt’s room and carefully shutting the door.

You collapse in your brother’s bed, emotionally and physically worn out. Sleep finds you quickly, making up for the broken fits on your friend’s couch last night. 

When you wake up a few hours later, you hear hushed voices outside the door. 

Wyatt’s home. 

You rise from the bed, and try to get to the door as quietly as possible, pressing your ear to try to hear their conversation.

“I tried calling her back this morning, is she still knocked out?”

“Yeah, man, I think so.”

“Thanks for looking out for her, Jack.”

“Of course. You know I would.”

You hear footsteps draw closer and stumble backwards to the bed. There’s a soft knock at the door, and Wyatt peaks his head in. 

In an attempt to make it look like you weren’t just listening to their conversation, you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees pulled up to your face. 

“Hey,” Wyat says softly. He steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Hi,” you give a weak smile.

He crosses the room to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“I’m sorry for just showing up here,” you say. 

Wyatt’s eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head. “What? I want you to come here if you have a problem. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “Jack was very nice. He made me coffee.”

Wyatt eyes you for a moment. He looks down at Jack’s shirt on you and bites the inside of his cheek. There’s something he’s not saying.

“What?” you furrow your brows.

Wyatt rises from the bed and pulls a new shirt from his dresser. “I have to go to work. Jack’s going to be here, so stay as long as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply.

“And at some point, I do want to hear what happened.”

The new shirt Wyatt is wearing gives you a glimpse at a small bruise at the base of his neck. You smirk and nod to him. “So, your date went well then?”

Wyatt cracks his neck and opens the door. “I’ll see you later,” he says with a smile. But he’s obviously blushing.

The sun is coming in strong, and your headache is waning, so you decide to emerge from Wyatt’s room. You shuffle into the living room, where Jack is sitting on the couch, surrounded by stacks and stacks of notebooks and textbooks.

He’s changed clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. You almost miss the soft comfort of him in his pajamas.

His eyes fall on you almost immediately. It’s hard to read him, but he doesn’t seem annoyed that you’re still in his apartment.

“Morning, princess,” he clears his throat and smiles.

“Is it still morning?” you ask, approaching the couch in small steps.

“Barely,” his eyes follow you. “It’s 11:30.”

“Right,” you nod. “What is all of this?”

You plop on the couch next to him, at a respectable distance, but close enough that you can smell the cologne he obviously put on at some point.

“Studying,” he shrugs. “Exam tomorrow.”

“Damn,” you say, leaning over one of his books. “I think I would go crosseyed if I had to memorize all of this. I’ll never understand how my brother made it into med school. You have to actually be smart to understand this.”

“Careful,” Jack smirks, “I almost took that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, trying to not think about how good he smells, and get up before you can say anything stupid. You meander over to the kitchen, only to find the fridge is woefully sparse. Seriously, how do guys survive on mostly beverages and a pack of deli meat?

You turn back around to find Jack watching you, amused.

“Looking for something?” he asks.

“Do you guys eat?” you reply, leaning your hip on the counter.

“Eat? Yes,” Jack nods. “Cook? Nope.”

“Great, I know not to come here during a snowstorm,” you mutter, pulling out your phone.

“What’re you doing?” Jack asks. 

“I’m hungry, dummy,” you say. “You want something from the Thai place down the street?”

The food is delivered quickly, and Jack is convinced to step away from his studies long enough to join you for lunch. Meaning he reluctantly pushes his books to the side and you sit cross legged on the couch next to him.

The food soothes your stomach, the last step in finally feeling remotely human again.

“I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked,” you say, holding your food close to your chest.

“That’s not true,” Jack shakes his head. “Do you remember the party we had here last fall?”

You search your memory and land on the night he’s talking about. You try to hide the blush in your cheeks that you know is rising.

“Yes,” you nod.

You had about three too many jello shots, and desperately needed some fresh air. You slipped out onto the balcony, only to find Jack already there. 

His eyes fell on you, your skirt and halter top. If you were any less drunk, you might have had the sense to be slightly embarrassed.

“Needed some air?” Jack asked. 

“I’m sorry, if you wanted to be alone, I can-”

“No, I didn’t,” Jack cut in. He nodded to the chair next to him.

You gave a small smile and settled down next to him. Jack’s eyes followed you down, only relaxing once you’d taken a settling breath. 

“Have you had any water?” Jack asked after a moment.

“Uhm,” you blinked, honestly trying to remember. 

Jack didn’t wait for your response, just handed you a water bottle. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking it from him. It was unopened, so either he also hadn’t had water, or was somehow just waiting for you to need it. Unlikely.

You weren’t close with Jack. At that point, you met him the day Wyatt moved in with him, and when Wyatt came to help you into your own apartment, with a few brief interactions in between. He was nice, and clearly very dedicated to his studies. But that was all you really knew about him. 

Other than the fact that he was very, painfully, unfairly pretty.

Apparently, neither of you were feeling particularly chatty. So you spent the next thirty minutes or so just…coexisting. You came down from your drunken high and had to pretend you didn’t feel Jack’s eyes on you every so often, finally sober enough to feel a modicum of embarrassment.

“We didn’t really talk that much, though,” you point out. “We mostly just sat next to each other in reassuring silence.”

“And now you’re wearing my clothes,” Jack nods to you, “I think that means we’re married now.”

“Wyatt’s going to be crushed, then” you say, taking a bite of food. “You guys can’t be friends anymore.”

“Why’s that?” Jack eyes you.

“One person can’t be friends with two siblings,” you shrug. “One of them always beats out the other. It’s basic math.”

“So we’re friends now?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know,” you manage, trying too hard to focus on your food. “I wouldn’t let an acquaintance see me the way you saw me this morning.”

“So, if we weren’t friends,” Jack starts to reason, “then there wouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“You don’t want to be friends with me?” you eye him. 

“Just making sure I understand the parameters,” Jack shrugs. 

“Come on,” you nudge him with your knee, “I can’t be that bad to be around.”

“You’re not,” he smiles, finally taking a bite of food.

After a little bit of silence, mostly dedicated to you trying to stop your heart from beating so fast, you look over to Jack and study him. The mention of the party brings up some unresolved questions you’ve been harboring.

Wyatt has mentioned that Jack is a walking charmer, and that he would flirt with a paperclip if it had a heartbeat and a generally positive disposition. But he’s never so much as flirted with you in a joking way.

He feels your eyes on him and looks around, putting his food down. 

“Don’t tell me I have food on my face,” Jack says, dragging a hand down his mouth.

“Why haven’t you ever flirted with me?” you ask before you can think better of it.

Jack almost chokes on his food. He clears his throat and sets it down on the coffee table. 

“Is it because of Wyatt? Did he give you the whole ‘touch my sister and you die’ bit?” You push further, noting the way Jack’s cheeks light bright red.

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” Jack asks. And it’s loaded. 

“I’m just wondering why you haven't,” you shrug.

His mouth is a soft line, just barely curved at the corners. His eyes don’t leave yours. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“No comment,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding eye contact. Maybe you should have thought this through more. It didn’t occur to you what it would actually feel like if Jack was suddenly comfortable enough to use that charisma on you.

“No comment is definitely a comment,” Jack replies. He leans back on the couch, his hand on the cushion next to you. Close.

“You can flirt with me,” you shrug, “doesn’t mean I’ll flirt back.”

“Then what’s the fun in that?” Jack’s voice is low, intoxicating.

You freeze. 

It would be so easy to tell him. Tell Jack just how much his voice gets under your skin, how much his gaze lights you up. How guilty you feel talking to him when your brother’s room is just around the corner. 

You’ve moved closer at some point, like magnets in your bodies that can’t stand to be apart. Your eyes flicker down to Jack’s mouth, when he licks his lips, your breath catches.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Jack shifts so that he’s completely facing you.

You take a steadying breath and set your own food down, laying your head back on the couch, eyes flickering between Jack and your hands.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Maybe I do.”

Jack is a breath away now, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, you are Wyatt’s sister,” Jack says. “Can’t ignore that.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you push him further. “Come on, Jack. Tell me.”

“Maybe you make me nervous,” Jack says softly. “And not a lot of people can do that.”

Oh.

It’s not the teasing, half answer you were expecting. It’s shockingly honest. Your breath catches in your throat, and you realize just how nervous you are. Jack shifts closer, and you reach your hand out to graze his knee.

You tilt your chin out, letting your lips graze his. It’s a chaste kiss, safe and tentative. Room for either one of you to back out. 

But neither one of you does. You blink up at him, waiting.

Jack takes a breath. Before he leans in and kisses you. 

A real, full kiss. No room for interpretation or misunderstanding. And you kiss him back. Because his kiss is warm and comforting and he’s cute and makes you feel seen.

You pull away first, Jack almost following you back.

“Oh,” you say. 

“Oh?” Jack echoes. He looks borderline mortified for the brief second you keep him on edge.

 “I was really hoping you’d be bad at that,” you say.

Jack lets out a low breath, his face settles somewhere between smug satisfaction and embarrassed blush. 

“Do it again, please,” you whisper.

Jack’s face changes again. He cups your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss, more intentional than the last. Your hands press against his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt. You can’t tell if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His hands push the hem of your shirt- his shirt- up, pressing his palms to your ribs. 

He’s tugging on you gently. There’s a restraint in him. Jack wants more, but he won’t take it. 

You slide into his lap, plush thighs straddling him. You’re breathless, body completely burning up. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s against the Geneva Conventions to hook up with your brother’s best friend,” you say, hands running over his chest. It’s so much more fun to make Jack squirm, make him remember the line between you two, and dare him to cross it.

Jack opens his mouth and pauses, momentarily caught off guard. His hands rest on your waist, fingers twitching ever so slightly. He recalibrates, and his momentary lapse in confidence settles into a smirk.

“We haven’t hooked up,” one hand snakes up to your face, just at the base of your jaw.

“It’s a figure of speech,” you shrug, trying to deflect. It’s not working, obviously. 

“It’s not,” he pulls you down closer. You don’t fight it. “Maybe a Freudian slip?”

“That guy was a quack,” you say, voice lowering when there’s nothing but a breath between you.

You melt into him again, and this time, your body reacts, hips moving slightly over him. Jack lets out a broken noise, his mouth sliding down to your collarbone.

“Jack,” you breathe, tilting your head back. “I want you, please.”

Something in the way you say his name cracks something in him. He groans, grip tightening around you. 

“Bedroom,” he mutters against your skin. “Now.”

You reluctantly slide off his lap, your heart pounding in his chest. He casts you a ruined, desperate look before taking you by the hand, lacing your fingers together.

Where Wyatt’s room is cluttered and cozy, Jack’s is organized and bright. He’s not a neat freak, but he clearly doesn’t need much to survive. There’s small glimpses of his personality here and there. In the posters tacked to his wall and the postcards on his corkboard. 

You don’t have long to take it in. When Jack shuts the door, he takes you by the waist, gently moving you against it until you have nowhere else to go.

Jack turns to you, eyes dropping back down to your lips. “You’re sure about this?” he asks.

“No,” you say, sliding your hands over his chest, up his shoulders. “But I want it anyway.”

“If we do this,” he puts his arms out, caging you in and holding himself up against the door. “I’m- This isn’t…”

His voice trails off. You hold your breath, waiting for the last part of that sentence.

“This won’t mean nothing to me,” he looks at you with those pretty hazel eyes.

You bring your hand to his face, thumb grazing the freckles on his cheek. Jack closes his eyes, letting himself feel your touch, before dropping his mouth down right outside your ear, his breath both warm and shaky. 

“Jack…” you breathe. Your fingers curl slightly against him.

“Tell me what you want,” his nose nudges your cheek. 

“I want you,” you sigh, leaning back against the door. “Not because I was feeling insecure and not because some douchebag made me cry.”

Jack studies your face, lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

“I want you because I like you,” you say, “and I think you like me, too.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he says, dropping his mouth to your jaw. 

“Careful,” you bite back a moan and thread your fingers through his curls. “I just might take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he mutters, body flush against yours. 

When he kisses you again, it’s different. It’s desperate and needy, pulling little sounds and moans from you with every pass of his lips, every swipe of his tongue.

You lift the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, and Jack is eager to help you strip it off.

“Fucking hell,” Jack breathes, taking you in. Your skin ripples with tiny goose bumps under his gaze.

He kisses you harder, hands exploring these new parts of your skin, appreciating them like he has been. He palms your breast, and you whimper into his kiss.

The only thing pulling him away is your fingers on his back, desperately clawing at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Off,” you mutter, and the word barely makes it out.

Jack slides his shirt over his shoulders, and you barely have time to miss his hands against your skin. He grips your hips, fingers digging just barely. Just enough for you to feel how much he wants this. How much he wants you.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. “So beautiful.”

It almost hurts to hear him say it. You don’t know why.

You take his hand and lead him to his bed, and Jack happily follows. Your back hits the matress softly. Jack crawls over you, hands on either side of your head and legs pressed against the outside of your thighs. He kisses you again, the weight of the setting making him slower and more deliberate. He moves down your body, pressing light kisses to your skin. 

Your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone, right above your breast.

It’s like he’s learning you. Memorizing every soft fold and mark of your body. Which parts make you squirm more than others.

His fingers slide into the waistband of your- his- shorts and he carefully pulls them down. You raise your hips just enough to help him, and you’re left bare under him.

“Fuck,” Jack groans. “No underwear?”

“I didn’t want to rewear the pair from last night.” You bite your lip as you watch Jack settle on the ground on his knees. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Jack nudges your legs apart, pressing kisses to the side of your knee, and down your thighs. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a beat. 

“You’re this wet in my goddamn shorts,” he says, spreading your legs open wider. “‘Course I don’t mind.”

He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, so your legs can drape over his shoulders. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he says, and you can feel his breath on your pussy, “promise.”

You feel his tongue first. One long stroke over you. It pulls an ungodly noise from you, and you slap a hand over your mouth. Almost embarrassed. Almost broken. Completely undone.

Jack looks up at you and smirks. 

“Come on, princess,” he says, settling a wide spread hand on your hip. “I want to hear you.”

“Then do something that makes me moan,” you breathe.

Jack’s fingers dig into your thighs, his mouth moving back to you. It makes you desperate and needy in a way you’ve never felt before. Your back arches off the mattress, and his grip on your hip tightens, keeping you from squirming away. 

“Jack,” you moan accidentally. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but fuck if he hasn’t earned it.

“Come on, baby,” Jack mutters, “you’re doing so good.”

Your fingers slip into Jack’s hair, tugging him closer. Gently, just enough. But you can feel the groan he lets out against your clit, and it unwraps you even more. 

Your thighs press against Jack’s ears, the pressure in your body building. 

“So- Jack- I’m-” the words come out in between shallow breaths as he pulls you right to the edges. One hand leaves Jack’s hair to white-knuckle the bed sheets, relieving some of the energy without ripping his beautiful hair out.

You come on his face with a loud cry, Jack’s tongue staying with you through it. He pulls away just enough to kiss your thighs again. Your legs are limp over the side of the mattress, your body and brain completely scrambled.

“Good?” Jack breathes, climbing over you to kiss you again. You slide your tongue into his mouth, the taste of yourself mixed with the taste of him.

“Good,” you breathe, eyes searching his. 

Jack sits back on his heels. First, you think he’s going to start taking his pants off, but (unfortunately) he just looks at you. His hands smooth down your ribs, your legs.

“What?” you say, heat rising in your cheeks. You fight back a smirk.

“Nothing,” he says, biting his lip. 

It isn’t nothing. The adoration in Jack’s eyes is something you could get addicted to. It’s everything.

You sit upright and scooch closer to him. He looks down at you, hands holding you flush against him at your waist. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then right behind his ear. Jack closes his eyes, and you can almost feel the moans he’s biting back.

Your hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning them. 

You start to push the denim down, and Jack grabs your wrists.

“Greedy girl,” he mutters.

You kiss him, taking his bottom lip in your teeth. He doesn’t budge. 

“Jack,” you whisper, letting the vowel drag across your lips. You say it softly, sweetly, like you’re reaching inside him and pulling him closer to you. You press a kiss to that spot behind his ear again, letting your nails drag over his shoulders and across his chest.

Jack lets out a low noise against you, and you can feel the last of his control slipping away. 

“Lay back,” he says softly.

You do as you’re told. Because you would do almost anything Jack told you to do, as long as he kept looking at you like that. Jack watches you move, as your head rests on his pillows. You take your bra off, the last scrap of fabric keeping him from you now gone. 

Jack’s eyes graze over you again.

With a low groan, Jack slides off the bed and proceeds to take off the rest of his clothes. You watch, still perched on the pillows, as his thick cock snaps up, hard and ready. You make a point to drag your eyes away from it slowly, finding his gaze still on you. 

He reaches into his nightstand for a condom. 

“Jack Abbot,” you say, watching him rip the foil wrapper, “horny and responsible.”

“I contain multitudes,” he says, sliding back to you.

“I’ve noticed,” you reply. 

Jack settles between your legs. He bends down for another kiss. Another reassurance that you want this as much as he does. Your hips scoot up just slightly, back arching towards him. 

“Please,” you mutter into his mouth. “I need you.”

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says, propping himself over you with one arm. 

The other moves down in between you, and you feel his fingers slide around your cunt. 

You inhale sharply, the feeling shooting through your body. 

“Mission accomplished,” you mewl. 

Jack smiles against your lips. 

When he finally sinks into you, you have to press a hand to his hip. 

“Slower, please,” you let out a broken whine. 

“Now she wants slower,” Jack breathes. He’s smiling, but it’s clear that he feels this the same way you do. Overwhelmed, affected, good.

Jack moves in another inch. Your back arches slightly, but you take him in all the way. The air in your lungs be damned. 

“Talk to me, pretty girl,” Jack looks down at you. “You feel so good wrapped around me, you know that?”

You’re so full. Full of him and full of fire and full of want. With a satisfied breath, you hold Jack’s face in your hands. 

“I think I get it,” you smile. “I’m good, Jack.”

Jack moves slowly at first. It’s heavy breaths and tangles hands and hungry mouths. 

Then you bring your ankles around Jack’s hips, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Jack closes his eyes, feeling you clench around him. Feeling your hands on his shoulders, nails pressing crescents into his skin.

“Yes,” you whisper. Just loud enough for him to hear.

Slowly, you found a pace and rhythm that scratched the itch inside you. Jack moved over you like his need was finally overtaking him. 

“More,” you say quietly. “More, Jack. Please.”

Jack kisses you like he needs it. Like he needs your mouth on his just one more time, before he straightens up in front of you. He holds your legs in both hands and watches as his dick slides in and out, slowly moving faster and deeper. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he pants, like he can’t believe he’s seeing you with his own eyes. 

You can only imagine what you look like. Laid out, hair everywhere, face completely awash in bliss. It doesn’t matter. Because Jack looks at you like he’s yours. Like he would keep you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

“Jack,” you whimper, squirming around under him. 

He drops one leg and presses a thumb to your clit, giving you the release and friction you’re so clearly craving. 

“I know, baby,” he says. 

“Do you?” you moan. You’re so close. It’s almost too much.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he mutters. “Give me another one, let me feel you.”

Short, choppy squeals slip out of your mouth as Jack pulls another orgasm from you. Your body goes taught, legs quivering as the feeling washes over you. Your hands fly to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your body fights Jack’s relentless stimulation. 

The feeling of you losing control around him clearly pushes Jack right to the edge. He drops your legs and folds over you, face buried in your neck. 

You hold him close, hands moving down his back and in his hair. WIth your lips pressed to his ear, you whisper sweet nothings and press light kisses to his skin.

“Jack, baby,” you coo, fighting to keep your head clear.

Jack lets out a low noise, your name slipping out through broken groans as he finishes inside you. 

He stays there like that for a moment, riding out the high and endorphins. You hold him over you, like a warm, weighted blanket, your hands gently moving up and down his back. 

“Fuck,” Jack says, voice muffled by the pillow behind you. 

You don’t rush him, don’t tell him to move or get off. Both of you take a moment to find your heads and a steady breathing pattern.

“Wyatt is going to kill you,” you smirk, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Wyatt knows,” Jack replies, voice still muffled.

“Wyatt knows what?” you ask, confused.

“That I care about you,” Jack pulls himself up and looks down at you. He kisses you again, slower this time. “He sees the way I look at you when you come over.”

You blink, completely at a loss for words.

“I’m so confused right now,” you say as Jack settles next to you. He drapes one arm over you and pulls your body against him. “I’ve never noticed the way you look at me.”

“Maybe your brother is smart enough for med school,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Maybe my brother is a fucking cockblock,” you mumble.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

requesting gas fic where they’re just loud in their home now…. smutty pls or maybe robin has a spare key or knows where it is and has to leave immediately when she hears whats going on

interruptions | steve harrington

𑣲 guilty as sin drabbles

When you got the call that your flight had been delayed by twenty four hours just as you and Steve were about to leave the apartment, you had initially been very annoyed. Who could blame you? Your very first holiday with your boyfriend was delayed and you had to wait another day until you two would be on a beach in Cancun together.

But Steve, seeing your shoulders tense, always knew just how to calm you down.

“That’s it, baby” Steve hums encouragingly, his large hands settled on your hips as you rode him on the pink couch in your apartment. You were still in your baby blue sundress that was bunched up around your waist as your pussy stretched obscenely around him, your slick coating him completely. “Take what you need, sweet girl. I’m all yours.”

You mewl out his name as you roll your hips, your fingers biting into the skin of his shoulders as you grind down, your swollen clit rubbing against his public hair and making it damn near impossible to stop the desperate whimpers that were from falling from your lips.

“Look at you,” Steve groans, having to grit his teeth as he held himself back on thrusting up into you as your warm, velvety walls pulsed around his cock. The wet sounds coming from you bouncing on his cock only further added to his torture, the feeling of your arousal dripping down onto his balls had him sinking his fingertips into your flesh.

“Baby, I need to—”

The sound of the apartment door suddenly swinging open makes Steve’s heart nearly stop. Steve’s hands hold you firm, stopping your movements as for a moment, he fears the worst—someone hurting you, someone coming in and—

“Fucking hell—you guys! Seriously?! On the fucking couch?”

You let out a loud shriek, the sound of Robin’s exasperated yell pulling you from the ecstasy that you had been nearing while Steve breathes a small sigh of relief that you were not, in fact, being robbed.

“Robin!” You shriek, almost pulling yourself off Steve but his hands stop you from doing so. Your face burns, feeling as though it was almost on fire from embarrassment, completely mortified that Robin had walked in on you riding Steve on the damn couch. “What are you—how did you get a—”

Shit. Steve thought as his hands hastily pull down your dress down in an attempt to cover your modesty. He had completely forgotten to tell Robin about the flight.

“I came to water your plants,” Robin explains and when Steve catches a glimpse of her over your shoulder, he can see she was covering her eyes and the sight amuses him. Just a little bit. “Steve said you would want someone to water then while you were on vacation—dude, I swear if you told me the wrong date—”

“—I didn’t! Our flight got cancelled and I—”

“—oh god, please stop talking. I think I saw your penis and I feel sick.”

Your face shifts, from embarrassment to amusement. You can’t help it after that, you begin to laugh. Steve tries his best not to join in but one look at your face and he found that he couldn’t hold back on his own laughter.

“Sorry Robbie,” you giggle, resting your face against Steve’s shoulder in a pathetic attempt to conceal your laughter. “Could you still water the plants? The flight’s tomorrow and—”

“—no! Absolutely not. Ask literally anyone else but me!” Robin practically yells back, scrambling to find the door handle behind her with one hand still covering her eyes. “And I’m never stepping foot in this apartment ever again!”

That only makes you and Steve laugh harder and with a loud slam of the apartment door, Robin was gone. Likely scarred for the rest of her life, definitely going to tell Nancy exactly horror she witnessed when she got home.

“Well,” Steve murmurs, giving your hips a squeeze and looking up at you with a wry smile. “That could have been worse.”

Your laughter dies when Steve suddenly bucks his hips upwards, the ruddy tip of his cock hitting your cervix and making you gasp out in surprise.

“Still wanna keep going?” He asks, smiling at you like he already knew the answer.

You roll your eyes but sink yourself down onto his cock until he was buried to the hilt, your stomach tightening as you feel him deep in your gut.

“Does that answer your question?”

dividers and banner by me 🌸

please credit me if you wish to reuse

.✦ ݁˖ rec account: @moonstone-recommends .✦ ݁˖

taglist | masterlist | requests page

[starkeymedia]

DREW STARKEY as Cary Masterson in episode 4 of ‘LUCKY’

[starkeymedia]

DREW STARKEY as Cary Masterson in episode four of ‘LUCKY’. Premiering July 29.

📸 Apple TV Press

[musingsofheaven]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ﹙ masterlist ⋮ request ˓ ask .ᐟ ﹚

THROATSHOT

kinktober ꒱ facefucking w/ piercer!dodge mason &. afab!reader

⠀ X-RATED ‎⒅ ꜜ proceed with caution. ⍈ choking. ᝢ deepthroating. ᝢ gagging. ᝢ facefucking. ᝢ hair pulling. ᝢ oral sex. ᝢ genital piercing ( pa ). ᝢ nipple piercing. ᝢ degradation. ᝢ mild physical restraint ⸝ wrist grabbing. ᝢ dacryphilia ( crying during oral ). ᝢ alcohol use. ᝢ smoking. (ㅤ 11.7k words ㅤ)ㅤ

⠀ ABOUT? ꜜ He never says no to you, even when you drag him out of the shop for an impromptu beach day, and that’s exactly the problem. You always know how to get your way, and he always lets you. It’s fun until you end up kneeling on the floor, and maybe that’s what you wanted all along.

⠀ NOTES ꜜ Piercer Dodge u will always be special to me :p

When you enter inside his shop, you can hear the loud welcome of the bell chiming on the door. You look around and nothing much has changed. It’s still the same clean and dark aesthetic that made you roll your eyes, but you think it’s one of the stereotypes of having a piercing and tattoo shop. The vibes are almost the same. You could feel the fabric of your cotton shorts brushing against your inner thighs as you walked inside, while your oversized shirt (which was only there to cover your bikini) hung loosely. It’s enough to show the outline of the strings of your bikini at the collar.

His head quickly lifted the moment he heard the sound, and he was in the middle of sketching a tattoo in his book. He puts his pencil to the back of his ear so he can stare at you like he’s trying to point out what you are planning before his eyes narrow at the bag in your hand. “Why do I feel like you’re about to drag me into something?” he stated before he started setting aside his drawing materials (which he always carries) back in his bag, settled on the side. He also sets the pencil down where it was placed before, then tilts back in his chair.

One thing you like about Dodge is that he never hides the way he looks at you. Like he won’t look away if he stares at you. Right now, he’s not hiding the way he gazes at your neck. Shamelessly staring at the strings pressing on your skin, and you just let him as you cross the floor towards him. “Because I am. Close early. We’re going to the beach.” You hold out the tote bag for him to see what’s inside it, which is a blanket and a glass bottle.“The beach?” He amusedly repeats it, and his eyebrows pull together, but his voice already has that tired sound that says he knows he’s not winning. You nudge the bag into his lap, and your lips twitch. “Yeah. Don’t act like you’re booked full. I saw the calendar. You’re done for the day. Come on.”

You packed this before even asking me?” He pulls the blanket out a little, and his eyes look up at you. “You always say yes.” You say it too easily, and you’re already tugging at your shirt hem like you’re seconds from stripping it off. “So why waste time pretending?” Dodge drags a hand down his face and breathes out hard through his nose, but the way his jaw locks when your shirt rides up a bit tells you all you need to know. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he mutters, but he’s already standing and grabbing his keys.

“Mmhm.” You hum as you lean against the counter and watch him pocket his lighter and phone. “And you like it.” His eyes drop to your chest again, and it’s just a look, but it’s obvious, and his mouth pulls like he’s trying not to let a smile show. “I should lock you in here instead.” You tip your head, and your grin turns playful. “With me already dressed for the beach?” The string at your collar moves when you shift, and his throat bobs. For a moment, he looks like he might actually argue, but then he just shakes his head and walks past you while the warmth of his arm brushes yours.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says while pulling the door open for you. “You’re coming through,” you point out as you step out into the sun. Dodge locks the door behind him, and a heavy sigh leaves his chest, but when he looks at you with your tote slung over one arm and your bare legs catching the light, it’s clear he was never going to tell you no. The drive feels easy, and the windows are down just enough to let the wind mess with your hair. Dodge’s hands are placed on the steering wheel, while the other is resting on his thigh as he taps his thigh along with the music playing on low volume on the radio.

His eyes occasionally look your way, though, and you’re settled comfortably against your seat with your tote bag placed on your lap. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted to swim,” he said, before faking a sigh, as if it hurt him, but you know better. You know he can swim his ass off if he wants to. He’s just fucking with your head because you didn’t message him before you went to his shop. His own lips, trying not to smile, are the ones that make him so obvious, even if he tries to act like he doesn’t swim (which you know he’s lying because you already saw him swim before) as he shifts gears.

“You don’t have to swim,” you sarcastically replied to him while you leaned your head back against the seat. “You can just sit there and brood on the blanket.” His laugh comes out short and rough in his throat. “So you already planned my role?” He asks with his eyebrow raised. “Obviously. I bought chips and beer for you, and a bikini for me. Fair trade.” You pull the hem of your shirt so the fabric rides higher on your thigh. “Besides, I didn’t hear you say no.” You are determined to make your point because you know Dodge is just amused (which is what you try to believe) at how you pulled this off. You can hear the vehicles as he turns onto the coastal road, and you start to feel excited the moment the smell of the air changes. It smells of the obvious scent of the ocean. His fingers grip the wheel tighter, but his voice stays steady.

“You always talk like I don’t have a choice.” You glance at him, and your smile grows when you catch the line in his brow. “Because you don’t. Admit it- you’d rather be here with me than stuck in that shop sketching all night.” He doesn’t answer right away and just grunts while pushing his hair back from his forehead as the wind tosses it forward. Finally, he mutters, “You’re not wrong,” and that makes your grin widen. The rest of the ride turns into a discussion about your week, and you tell him about a customer who gave you attitude, mimicking their voice until he snorts and shakes his head.

He tells you about someone who came into the shop asking for a tattoo of their ex’s name, and you both laugh until your stomachs hurt. The easy back and forth carries you through the last part of the drive, and by the time he pulls up near the sand, the sun is already dropping down, and gold spreads out across the water. You didn’t even try to wait for him to turn off the engine before you opened the passenger seat door and left the car. The cold wind hits your skin, and your feet hit the ground. You pull your shirt over your head and remove it in one smooth motion. It shows the bikini top you are wearing underneath when you remove it, and the thin straps leave subtle lines on your skin where they’ve been sitting all day.

Your denim shorts follow, and you shove them down your legs before kicking them free, then scoop them up and jog a few steps ahead with your bare feet sinking into the sand. Dodge slams the door behind him and locks the truck as he calls after you, “You couldn’t wait two seconds?” You turn back, your shirt and shorts bundled in your arms, and you grin while tossing them onto a clear patch of sand. “Nope. I told you- I came ready.” He shakes his head as he hauls the blanket from the truck, and his jaw stays tight, though his eyes keep dragging back to you.

You can tell by the way his stare sticks on your chest and how he looks a bit too long before he forces his gaze down at his feet. “Are you really going to make me set this up by myself?” You drop down onto the sand and spread your clothes out like a marker while looking up at him. “I’m carrying everything,” he shoots back as he drops the blanket near your pile of clothes. He crouches to shake it out, and the fabric snaps quickly in the breeze while he mutters without looking up, “You’re acting like a damn kid.”

“You like it,” you tease and pull your knees close to your chest while the straps of your bikini run across your back. His eyes lift, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you with that unreadable stare before finally sitting down beside you. The sand cools under you, and he starts digging through the tote bag you tossed down earlier. The cans bump together, and they’re still warm from the sun, though drinkable enough. He pops one open with his thumb, and foam gathers at the edge while he hands it over without glancing your way, and his other hand is already opening his own.

You take it from him, and the bitter taste hits your tongue as you sigh and lean back on your elbows. “Not exactly ice-cold,” you say while squinting at the water. “Since when do you complain about beer?” He smirks and lifts his can. “Since you keep stocking me with the cheap ones.” You nudge his ankle with your toes, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “You drink them anyway,” he says, and when you roll your eyes, he adds, “Exactly my point.”

You both talk for a while and trade lazy jokes and pieces of your week that you hadn’t shared in the car. You just told him random things that happened, like the nightmare (you exaggerated) about waiting in line, while he talked about the stray cat he started feeding in front of his shop because it kept showing up there every morning he opened for the day. The beer settles warm in your stomach, and the quiet that follows feels easy instead of heavy. A group of guys walks past across the sand heading for the water. Their voices carry for a bit before fading until only their shapes are left against the horizon. Most of them don’t look your way, though one slows down just enough for it to stand out.

His eyes stay on you longer than the rest and slide down your body before he finally looks away. Your grip tightens around the can, and the fizz presses softly against your palm. Before you can say anything, Dodge beats you to it, and his voice comes out rough but steady. “That one’s a creep.” You glance at him with your brow raised. “You don’t even know him.” His stare stays locked on the man’s back as the group keeps walking. “I don’t need to. Guys like that, it’s obvious. The way he looked at you wasn’t normal.”

“Normal?” you echo while tilting your head. “Normal’s a glance. He was checking you like he thought he had the right to.” His jaw works as he takes another long pull from his beer, and his throat moves hard when he swallows. “So what? You’re going to warn me about every guy who looks too long?” You lean closer until your knee brushes his. “If they look at you like that? Yeah.” His eyes meet yours again. They’re steady and unwavering. “Don’t laugh, I mean it.” You blink at him, then shake your head with a small smile, though your chest feels tighter than before.

“I’m not laughing. I just think it’s funny how you act like you can read people in two seconds.” His lip twitches, but he doesn’t deny it, and instead, he mutters, “Didn’t need two seconds with him.” Their voices fade with the wind until only the sound of waves stays, and the fizz from another can fills the quiet as he cracks it open. You stretch your legs out, and the hem of your bikini bottoms catches bits of sand while his hand passes you the fresh drink, and your fingers brush his.

“Still doesn’t change the fact this was a good idea,” you say softly as you watch the sun sink lower. He nods in agreement, though you can feel his stare again, and it’s heavier this time, like he still can’t let go of the way that guy looked at you. The can is almost empty in your hand when you realize you’re staring again. The man who slowed down earlier stands closer to the water with his friends, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. Every now and then, his eyes drift back to where you and Dodge sit on the blanket.

You take another sip and try not to smile, though Dodge notices anyway. His hand props on the sand behind him as he leans back, and his gaze slides to you before following where yours keeps going. “You’re still looking at him,” he mutters, and the corner of his mouth stays tight. “Just checking if your reading was right. About him being a creep.” You lift a brow and act like you don’t hear the edge in his voice. “It was,” he says quickly and sure before tipping his can to finish what’s left.

Something warm and reckless builds in you, maybe from the beer or maybe from the way Dodge watches without trying to hide it. You set the can down in the sand and push to your feet. “Where are you going?” His eyes narrow as you brush your palms over your thighs. “Nowhere,” you answer, even though you’re already walking toward the water and toward the group. His eyes never leave you the moment you walk away, and you can feel it. It feels and sits heavy between your back like you did something wrong, but your stubborn ass just ignores it because the guy from earlier noticed you before you even stopped in front of them. His body straightened while flicking the ash of his cigarette down the ground, and a grin formed on his face if you were a gift just landed on his lap.

“Hey,” he says when you step closer, and his voice sounds cocky but not too loud. “Was wondering if you were gonna come over.” You tilt your head while the breeze pushes strands of hair across your face. “Why’s that?” His eyes skim down your body like he doesn’t care that you notice before he says, “’Cause you’ve been watching.” His gaze stops at your bikini top, and the thin fabric leaves no mystery where the piercing in your nipples presses through. “Didn’t think I’d get a smile thrown my way unless you wanted to talk.”

You let out a quiet laugh more for yourself than for him, though you stay where you are. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?” He shrugs and nods toward Dodge’s direction. “Is that your boyfriend?” The question lands hard, and it makes your lips twitch. You glance back at the blanket where Dodge still sits with one hand braced behind him and the other tight around his can. His stare doesn’t move even from a distance. You look back at the guy, and the corner of your mouth lifts. “Does it matter?”

“Depends,” he says as he leans his weight with a smirk. “Wouldn’t wanna step on anyone’s toes. Especially his. He looks like the type to swing first and ask later.” That pulls a laugh from you under your breath because he isn’t wrong. You glance down at your chest when his gaze stays again, and you lift your chin. “You keep looking,” you say plainly. He doesn’t flinch or pretend otherwise. “Can’t help it. Those piercings…” His eyes snap back up to yours like he suddenly remembers to at least meet them. “They hurt?”

“Not anymore,” you reply steadily, though you can feel Dodge’s presence behind you like a pull on your spine. “Why? You thinking about getting some yourself?” The guy chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah. Just looks hot. Guess I never thought I’d see that at the beach.” Your lips curve, and a quiet hum sits in your chest as you answer, “Guess you got lucky today then.” Even without turning, you know Dodge is watching every second. The guy lit up another cigarette, and you watched him do it; the flame, luckily, did not blow out due to the cold breeze. He let it settle between his two fingers while he occasionally replied to his friends, but his eyes quickly looked back at you when you moved closer to him.

Your hand brushes the inside of his arm just enough to make him glance down at the touch. He smirks and lifts the cigarette toward his mouth, but before he can take another drag, you lean in and nod toward it. “Can I?” He looks surprised at first, then amused. “Sure,” he says while holding it out, and smoke curls between you. You don’t hesitate. Your lips close around the filter where his had been a second ago, and the burn of smoke hits your lungs as you breathe in slowly. His eyes stay locked on your mouth while you do it, and when you pull away, you let the smoke roll out in a lazy stream.

Your tongue slips over your teeth as you hand it back. “Not bad.” His grin spreads wide. “Not bad yourself.” The comment makes one of his friends whistle, and the sound cuts across the sand. Another one mutters “Fuckin’ bold” under his breath, and it only makes the guy stand taller like he’s already won something. He flicks ash off the end and studies you again while his gaze dips where the outline of the piercing under your bikini is plain in the fading sun. “Bet that shit hurts more than this ever will,” he says while holding up the cigarette between two fingers.

Your smile quirks and heat rolls in your stomach at the way he keeps looking. “Maybe,” you answer with a shrug. “Worth it though.” His laugh comes out rough and low. “Yeah. Looks like it.” A new voice joins in as one of his buddies leans toward him with a grin. “Ask her if we can see-” The words cut off fast when a shadow falls over you. Dodge is there before the guy’s friend can finish, and he steps in close enough that his presence fills the space. The empty can he’d been holding is crushed in his fist, and his jaw stays tight while he looks right past the group and down at you.

“You done?” he asks, and his voice stays even, but there’s a hard rasp that makes your pulse kick. The guy straightens, and his grin falters while he flicks his eyes from you to Dodge. “She came over to talk,” he says, like that’s supposed to defend him. Dodge doesn’t even look at him, and his stare stays fixed on you, waiting for an answer. Dodge’s hand clamps around your wrist, and it isn’t rough enough to hurt, but it’s tight enough that you don’t have much choice except to follow. The group of guys falls behind fast, and their laughter trails across the sand while Dodge pushes ahead with long, quick steps.

Your feet stumble to keep up, and the heat of his grip makes your pulse pound. “Let go,” you snap while tugging against him, but he doesn’t slow down. His shoulders are tense while his jaw is clenched tightly. “The fuck are you doing over there?” he asks you, and it’s obvious that he’s not happy. You can feel his voice cut through you, and it’s obvious that he’s not trying to snap (at least make his voice louder) for everyone else to hear. You yank again and scowl. “I was talking. That’s all.” His laugh comes out short and bitter, and his eyes cut sideways at you before he faces forward again. “Talking? It looked like more than talking when you had your mouth on his cigarette.”

The words hit hot against your skin, nd you keep pace, refusing to trip in the sand while he drags you along. “You’re overreacting,” you throw back. “It was one drag. Relax.” He stops fast and spins toward you so quickly your body nearly collides with his. His hand finally drops from your wrist, but his stare holds you just as tight. “Relax? You had every single one of those guys staring at your tits, and you’re out here making it easier for them.” The air between you feels thick, and your chest rises quickly from the way he spits the words. “So what if they look? It’s not your problem.”

His mouth forms into a line, and no smirk or smile can be found on it. He takes a deep breath like he’s calming himself, while the muscle in his jaw feels tight and flexed like he’s trying to hold back something worse. “It sure as fuck is when you’re walking around with me.” Your laugh slips out. It sounds cutting and almost mocking. “Oh, so now it matters because you were standing there watching? Give me a break, Dodge.” He steps closer, and the space shrinks until his breath brushes your face. “Don’t play dumb. You knew exactly what you were doing.” Your spine stiffens, and stubbornness sparks hot in your chest. “Maybe I did. Maybe I liked watching you get worked up.”

He looks like he’s about to snap back a smart remark to what you just said, but nothing comes out of his throat. His glare doesn’t leave, though. It stays locked on you while his chest rises, while the sounds of the water are the only thing that is calmer compared to Dodge. He finally dropped your hand the moment the two of you reached the blanket, but you can still feel the tight grip he had over you moments ago. He crouches right away and snatches up the bottles, the empty chip bag, and even your denim shorts and top. Without a word, he stuffs everything into your bag like the night is over, and his movements are rough and fast without caring how things are folded.

You stand there still catching your breath and watch him shove your clothes down into the bag. “What the hell are you doing?” you ask, and your voice comes out hard. He doesn’t answer and just takes the blanket next before he messily folds it quickly and puts it under his arm. Then he takes the liberty to put the strap of your bag over his shoulder and carry it like it’s his. “Are you serious right now?” You take a step forward, and your eyes go wide. “We just got here, Dodge. You’re packing like some dad dragging his kid away from a playground.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you need it,” he mutters without looking up, and he’s already starting across the sand. His long strides make it clear he expects you to follow. You chase after him, and anger burns hotter the more he ignores you. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not one of your projects, Dodge.” His back stays to you, and his shoulders are tense, but his pace doesn’t slow. “Could’ve fooled me.” The words hit hard, and you push faster until you’re at his side. “So now I’m stupid for having fun? That’s what you’re saying?”

His jaw tightens, but he keeps walking, and his eyes stay straight ahead. “I’m saying you don’t think so. Not when you’re drinking.” You let out a laugh, but it sounds more like disbelief than something funny. “Wow. That’s rich coming from you.” He glances at you quickly, but the look hits harder than it should. “You think this is a joke? You think I liked standing there while those guys kept looking at you?” You scoff before you move your hair away from your face while still walking beside him. “I didn’t ask what you think, okay. Next time, just don’t say anything if it’s like that.”

That makes him stop abruptly, and the sand crunches under his shoes as he turns to face you. His grip stays tight on your bag, and his chest moves roughly. He stops talking, and his jaw moves tight like he’s holding the rest of his words inside. You cross your arms on your chest to show him you’re not planning to lose this one. “While I what? While I smoked his cigarette? Touched his arm? Flirted? Go ahead, say it.” His eyes lock on yours, and they burn dark, but instead of answering, he just shakes his head once and starts walking again, faster this time.

You groan loudly, half in frustration and half to make sure he hears it. “You can’t just ignore me!” He doesn’t turn around, and his voice comes out quiet but heavy. “Watch me.” You close the space between the two of you when you hurry after him. The sound of the waves slowly fades as you walk away from it, and you can feel the air tight between the two of you. Dodge appears to have no intention of slowing down, even when the car comes into view. His shadow falls on the sand as he stands in front of the car, trying to open it with the key. He says nothing to you or even looks at you. He just unlocks it, then throws your bag inside the back seat and closes the door too forcefully, as if he is angry.

You stay in your place for some time, letting the sand stick to your feet, while you stand there wearing only your bikini, your arms wrapped around yourself because you feel cold. You also feel angry, and you cannot tell which one is worse. Maybe you made him mad on purpose, but now you don’t even feel good about it. You just hate that the day finished like this. He goes to the driver’s side and opens the door, then sits down before he turns his head a little, like he is waiting. He does not tell you to come or make a gesture, but it looks like he wants you to understand him without words. You let out a small sound from your throat before walking to the other side and getting inside the passenger seat. The seat feels cold against your skin, especially since you're only wearing a bikini. You move a little, trying to pull your top up so you can feel less cold, but it doesn’t help much. He turns the key, and the sound of the car starts loud and stays that way between the two of you. He drives out of the parking lot and doesn’t even look at you.

Your voice breaks first, and it comes out angry but quiet. “So this is it, you just drag me out like I’m some stupid person, then pretend like I’m not even there?” He’s holding the wheel tightly, and his eyes don’t move from the road. “It’s better like that than watching you do something dumb.” That answer makes your chest burn, and you lean forward in your seat, glaring at him. “Dumb? For talking? For laughing with some guy who wasn’t you?” His jaw locks hard, and the muscle jumps as he breathes out through his nose. “You think it’s about him?”

You laugh bitterly and turn toward the window, but your voice stays loud enough to cut through the deep sound of the car. “It sure looked like it when you yanked me away like that. God, you didn’t even give me a second.” He finally glances your way, and his voice comes out rougher now. “You were drunk. And he was staring at you like-” He stops himself again and his fingers tap once on the steering wheel before curling back tight. “Forget it.” Your head snaps back to him, and disbelief spills out before you can stop it. “No, say it. Staring at me like what?”

His eyes stay on the road, and his knuckles go white on the wheel. “Like he already had his hands on you.” Heat shoots up your neck at the way he says it, and not because you agree, but because it sounds so bare and unfiltered. You push against it, and anger stays stronger than anything else. “And what? That’s your excuse? You get to throw all my stuff in a bag and end the night because some stranger looked at me?” He doesn’t answer and just presses harder on the gas, so the engine grows louder, and the silence remains between you.

You move around in your seat and cross your arms, and your voice comes out tight, as if you cannot believe what he just did. “You’re unbelievable.” His hand leaves the wheel for a short moment, and he passes it through his hair while he says a quiet bad word that you almost don’t hear, but after that, he still stays silent, and only the sound of the tires is there. The car feels smaller and smaller as time goes by, and the air starts to feel heavy while both of you just sit there quietly and don’t say anything you really want to say. The ride going back feels too long, and the silence makes you notice everything, like the sound of the tires rolling on the road, and the way he only looks forward, and how you can’t even make yourself look at him.

Dodge doesn’t speak or even glance your way, and you don’t bother filling the quiet either. The streetlights keep passing on his face while he drives, and you can see how his jaw looks tight. His hands stay on the wheel the whole time, and he doesn’t even move them even a little. The engine still makes noise for a few seconds when the car stops in front of your place before he finally puts it in park. You move your hand to the door because you just want to get out already and go away from the heavy feeling in the air, but before you can do it, something suddenly falls on your lap first. His jacket. “Take it,” he mutters with his eyes still fixed ahead. “You’re not walking in there like that.”

The heat in your chest rises again, though your fingers tighten around the fabric anyway. “Didn’t realize you cared what I walk into my own place wearing,” you say as you tug the jacket on but refuse to look at him. “Yeah, well, I do,” he says, finally cutting his gaze to you. It’s stiff and tired, but it doesn’t waver. You scoff and push the door open. “Whatever.” The night air hits your skin, making you shiver as you slowly walk to your door. You don’t even see your bag at first, but then you hear his door close and his boots start hitting the gravel, and that’s when you realize you left it inside the car. He follows right behind you, and your bag is in his hand.

“You forgot this,” he says simply while holding it out when you reach the door. Snatching it from him gives you a short bitter laugh. “You couldn’t wait five seconds before following me, huh?” His brows knit, but he doesn’t rise to the jab. “I wasn’t about to leave it in the car. You’d just blame me for that, too.” The words land hard, and you glare at him as you unlock your door. “Blame you? You act like I’m crazy for being pissed off when you just- drag me away like some kid. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear you,” Dodge answers as he leans against the doorframe once you push the door open. He doesn’t step inside and just crosses his arms while the shadow fills up the entryway. “I hear every word. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna apologize for pulling you away from some asshole who couldn’t stop staring at your tits.” Your stomach tightens at how straight he says it, and heat rushes up your neck, but you try to ignore it and scoff again. “God, you’re impossible. Do you know that? Impossible.”

“Yeah,” he says with his voice rougher now. “But I’m not blind. And I’m not stupid.” Your hand stays on the doorknob, and your chest feels tight; the air feels heavy between you, as there is so much you both are not saying. His jacket is still over your shoulders, and it is warm and smells like him, and that only makes it harder to ignore. You turn away first and drop your bag inside the door. “You should go,” you mutter, though it doesn’t sound nearly as solid as you want it to.

But he doesn’t move. Not yet. Dodge doesn’t move when you tell him to go, and instead, he walks inside as if he also owns the place. He walks past you and sits on the couch; then the cushion gives a little under his weight. He puts his arm on the back of it like he will stay there for a long time. You just stand near the door and keep looking at him. You don’t know if you should tell him to leave or let him sit there because the fight already makes your chest feel too heavy. Kicking the door shut, you walk over and pull his jacket tighter around yourself.

The jacket is still warm on your skin, and his scent remains in the fabric, which helps ease the anger a little. “We don’t even fight about stupid shit like this,” you say while you move down to the floor in front of him. The carpet brushes your knees as you settle, and you rest your hands on his thighs like you are trying to calm yourself. You look up, and your voice comes out softer. “I don’t like it. Us being like this.” He looks down at you with his expression caught somewhere between frustration and something gentler.

“You think I do?” he says with his voice quiet and steady. “I don’t like seeing you put yourself in that spot. Makes me feel like I’m the asshole when all I’m doing is trying to keep shit from getting out of hand.”You rest your chin on his leg and look up at him while your words come out in a half-pout. “So what? You’re not even a little sorry for dragging me off?” Dodge exhales through his nose, and his gaze holds yours. “No. I’d do it again. Every time.” What he says is honest, and it stings a little, but the look in his eyes makes it easier to take.

You bite the inside of your lip and act like you are sulking while your hands move higher on his thighs like you are testing how far you can go before he stops you. “You’re supposed to say sorry,” you tease, though your voice is gentle now. “Not gonna lie, just to make you feel better.” He smirks a little, and one brow lifts. “Mm.” You let the sound slip, half amused and half annoyed, while you settle more comfortably between his knees. The jacket gapes open around you, showing bare skin and the bikini underneath, but you don’t bother fixing it.

His eyes drop with a spark of want in them now that he’s not pretending to ignore it. The room feels heavier with the quiet, and it’s a different kind than in the car. His thighs are solid beneath your palms, and his chest rises slowly while the air between you turns thick with something unsaid. You tilt your head just slightly, and your lips brush his jeans as you mumble, “Still mad at me?” His hand finally moves, and his thumb slides slowly along your jaw while he tips your face up. “Mad, yeah,” he says, though the edge in his voice is weaker now.

“But not enough to make you get off the floor.” Your mouth opens a bit, and your breath stays inside your throat when his eyes keep looking right at you. The jacket goes down more from your shoulders, and the room feels smaller, like only the strong feeling between you two is left there. Neither of you names it, but it sits heavy and charged, waiting to spill over into something you both already know is coming. Your fingers slide higher on his thighs, and your nails trace lazy lines against the denim while you keep your chin tilted toward him.

The silence stays for a long time, and then you let out a small huff while your lips push into a pout. “So you can pull me away when someone looks at me, but when girls throw themselves at you, I just need to sit there and do nothing?” you say while trying to make your voice sound normal, but there’s still a little sulking in it. His eyebrow goes up, and the side of his mouth moves a bit like he already thinks what you said is funny. “That’s what this is about now?” You nod slowly and exaggerate it with your lips still in a pout.

“Don’t act like it doesn’t happen. I’ve seen them. At the shop, at the bar, even when we’re just out. They get close. And you don’t exactly shove them away either.” He leans back against the couch with his eyes still on you, and his smirk grows small but steady. “You jealous?” Heat climbs into your cheeks, and you make a small noise that sits somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I’m not jealous. I just… remember things. Like when that girl leaned over the counter to ask you about tires and practically showed you her whole bra. You didn’t pull her away.”

Your lips press into a tighter pout, and your hands give a little squeeze against his thighs like you’re trying to make your point stronger. “But me? I can’t even laugh at someone’s joke without you dragging me out like a criminal.” His laugh is quiet and deep in his chest, but he shakes his head. “The difference is, I didn’t look at her. Didn’t even remember her until you just brought it up. You really think I was interested?” You bite your lip and let your gaze drop to his stomach before glancing up again. “Didn’t look like you minded. You were leaning back, letting her talk to you.”

Dodge leans forward, then, with his elbows resting on his knees, and it closes the space between you so his voice comes out rougher and closer. “You’re really gonna act like I wanted her when I got you sitting right here sulking in my jacket looking like that?” His eyes flick down the open lapels of his jacket and catch the bikini strap cutting against your skin. “You’re the one I dragged out because I couldn’t stand watching someone else stare at you like they were about to get lucky.” The words sink in slowly, and your pout weakens while your lips part just slightly as your stomach turns warm inside. You mutter, “Still doesn’t mean you get to act like it’s nothing when girls do it to you.”

“Then next time,” he says with his voice firmer and steadier now, “say something instead of pretending you’re fine with it. Don’t wait until you’re pouting on the floor to start throwing old shit at me.” Your face scrunches as guilt and annoyance mix together, but you keep your hands on his thighs and refuse to let go. “I wasn’t pretending. I just… don’t like looking stupid in front of people. Especially when it’s about you.” Something flashes in his eyes, but it turns soft right away and changes into something heavier that you can’t really understand.

He lets out a slow breath, and his thumb moves against your jaw again, and his touch makes your skin tingle all over. The air starts to feel heavy again, and the tension grows stronger until it pulls you closer, even when no one says what is really happening. The sulk stays on your mouth, but now it turns into something more dangerous, and it’s the kind of pout that doesn’t end with words. Your hands keep going up, and you can feel how your fingers move on his thighs, like you are not even thinking about it, and then your pinky hits the edge of his belt, and it feels cold on your skin.

His thumb stays near your mouth, and he touches the corner like he’s not sure what to do before he drags it slowly over your bottom lip, and it makes you forget to breathe for a second. The touch makes your lips part, and his gaze drops down dark and steady. “If I knew putting that in you meant every pair of eyes would find your tits first thing, I wouldn’t have let it happen,” he mutters with his jaw tight as his eyes flick lower. The way he looks at the small jewelry under your bikini makes your chest feel hotter than the whole room. A shy smile pulls your lips, and you bite his thumb softly, just enough to feel your teeth there. “I like it,” you whisper slowly, like you are telling something not easy to say.

“It makes them more sensitive. Even when the fabric brushes it’s… different.” Your voice goes softer at the end, but he catches every word, and his eyes get darker like you just gave him a secret that is not for anyone. His thumb moves off your lip and then goes to trace your chin before he pulls back to look at you completely. The smirk softens into something else, and it feels heavier. “Looks perfect on you,” he says, and his words come out rough but firm, like he doesn’t care if you believe him or not- he already does.

The praise makes you lose your breath for a second, and your hand stops where it’s on his waistband. The leather of his belt is warm under your palm, and your fingers move like you want to touch the edge, like you will unbuckle it, but you stop halfway, and your teeth pull at your lip again while you think about whether you are bold enough to do it. Dodge notices, of course, he does. His gaze dips to your hand, then back up. “What’s that look for?” he asks while his voice stays quiet and teasing. You clear your throat as nerves crawl under your skin.

“Just… thinking,” you mumble while your thumb brushes the metal of his buckle. Your eyes flick up fast, searching his face, before you finally ask, “You ever… You don’t have… like… piercings?” The question comes out rushed and tangled, as if you can’t decide whether you regret asking or not. His brow furrows, then lifts slowly as amusement spreads when he realizes what you’re hinting at. “Piercings?” he repeats, and the weight of the word alone makes you squirm. You nod fast while your eyes dart away from his and back to his waist. “Like… down there. A piercing on the tip or… something. You never told me if you did.”

Instead of answering, he lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh as his hand rests heavily against your jaw to make you look at him again. “Why are you asking me that?” Heat climbs up your cheeks while you press your lips together, wishing you hadn’t opened your mouth, but you still manage to mutter, “I just… wondered. If you ever did it and just didn’t say anything.” His stare pins you down, and it’s dark and steady while his voice drops deeper. “Or is it you wanting to try it? You curious what it’s like to fuck someone with a piercing like that? Or to suck a cock that’s got metal in it?”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist tight and your hands stop being unsure. Your fingers press harder on his waistband like you can’t stop it now. The air between you feels heavy, and it pulls tighter like it’s going to break, while the question stays there without an answer, but it’s strong enough to make you move closer to doing what you were too shy to do before. Your hand stops on his belt as your fingers hover, but you don’t dare to pull. His eyes look down, then go back up to you, and a smirk pulls at his mouth like he’s thinking something funny while he leans closer to you. “If you wanna know if I got one,” he says, and his voice gets rough and slow, “then check it.”

Your face starts to feel hot as you shake your head slightly, because your brain feels empty and you cannot find the words to say or even begin. “You’re just playing with me,” you mumble, your hand still there, and it will not move away even if you tell it to. “Nah,” he drawls while pushing back against the sand with his legs spread just enough for the invitation to be clear. “Go on. Won’t bite.” Your breath comes unsteady as you finally press against the bulge of his briefs. The outline feels solid under your palm, but then your fingertips brush against something harder and cooler that isn’t skin, but metal. The shock makes you freeze, and your eyes snap up to his wide and unsure.

“Well?” He watches you, smug and patient, like he already knew the moment you’d find it. “Does that answer your question?” Dodge tilts his head slightly, and his grin curls. “Y-you… actually-” The words catch in your throat, and you swallow hard while your hand still rests against the proof of it. “You didn’t even tell me,” you said disappointedly, as if he needed to tell you that information. “Not the type of thing you bring up over beers,” he says, and shrugs, as if it’s nothing, though his eyes stay on you. “You wanted to know. Now you do.” His thumb grazes your lower lip as he adds, “What’s that look for? Curious?”

“I just… I didn’t think you’d have one. It looks- different,” you whisper as embarrassment burns hotter through your chest. “Different good,” he presses, or “different bad?” The back of your throat dries, and you manage to whisper, “Good,” quieter than you mean to, while your eyes drop again. “Mm.” His smirk deepens as he moves his hips forward so the bulge presses harder into your palm. “Then quit staring like you don’t wanna taste it. You wanna suck it, don’t you?” The way he says it makes you stop for a second, and your throat starts feeling tight, but you still nod before your brain can even think about it.

He lets out a small laugh that sounds low and rough, and it feels like he already knows what he’s doing while you don’t. Then he puts his finger under the waistband, and he pulls it down a little until he’s free, and the piercing shines under the weak light. The metal catches your eyes right away, and your stomach turns because you start to feel nervous, and you don’t even know where to look. Dodge guides you down with one hand as his palm stays steady on the back of your head. “C’mon,” he murmurs as he pushes you gently closer until your lips hover over the tip. “Don’t be shy now. Go ahead.” The first touch is tentative as your tongue brushes over the head while you feel the cool weight of the metal against the warmth of your mouth.

You gasp softly at the strange new sensation as you pull back just a fraction. “It feels… different,” you breathe, almost more to yourself than to him. His hand tightens in your hair, not forcing, but keeping you there. “That’s the point,” he says while his voice turns rougher and heavier. “Keep going. Wanna hear what you think when you really get it in your mouth.” You open wider and lick along the slit as the piercing clinks lightly against your teeth while your tongue circles it again.

The mix of heat and metal makes your head spin, and you press closer with your lips, sealing around the tip as you let out a muffled, “mmfhh.” Dodge exhales hard through his nose as his body tenses just enough to tell you how it feels for him. “Fuck… yeah. Just like that. You didn’t think you would like it this much, yeah?” Your tongue keeps touching the cold metal, and you can taste him little by little inside your mouth. It’s warm, but also feels kind of heavy on your tongue. His hand leaves your hair and goes down slowly. Then he puts his finger under the jacket that is just hanging on your shoulders and starts pulling it down until the cloth falls down your arms.

“Take this off,” Dodge murmurs as he watches the way you hesitate. “And the top too. I wanna see your tits when you are on your knees.” You feel the heat rush fast to your chest, so you try to pull the jacket down your arms, though your hands don’t move right because they feel shaky and nervous while you hold the strings of your bikini top. You pull it once, until it starts to loosen, allowing the cold air to touch your skin, and it makes you shiver, even when you try to stay still. You cover your chest with your arms for a second because you feel shy, yet his eyes already drop, and his smirk widens, as if he already knows what you are thinking inside your head. “That’s better,” he says while his voice turns rougher and heavier. “Fuck, look at you.”

Your hands stay on your sides, and you can feel them shake a little while his eyes feel heavy on your skin, and it makes you feel small and hot at the same time. “You don’t have to stare like that,” you mumble while you bite your lip. He says it fast because he already knows the answer, and it’s just there in his mouth, ready to come out. His hand moves up slowly, and his knuckles touch under your breast, then he keeps going up until he’s holding it fully, and his thumb starts rubbing in small, slow circles on your nipple. “They’re right there, so it’s like they’re asking me to touch them.” The bluntness makes your breath hitch, and when he pinches lightly, you gasp. The sound only makes him grin more, and with his free hand, he guides you back down.

“Now open up again,” Dodge says as his cock rests against your lips while he gives another squeeze to your breast. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” This time you don’t hold back. Your lips part as you wrap them around the tip, and your tongue presses against the piercing with a slow drag. The metal clinks lightly against your teeth when you move your mouth lower and suck him deeper, inch by inch. Saliva coats your tongue, and you swallow around him, determined to take more.

His head tilts back slightly as a deep grunt leaves his throat while his thumb rubs over your nipple again. “Yeah… just like that,” he mutters while his chest moves up and down and it gets heavier with every breath he takes. “You’re trying to impress me, huh?” The words push you to go further, and you bob your head at a steady pace as your mouth tightens around him while your tongue moves along the underside of his cock. Your spit trails down your chin but you don’t stop as you hollow your cheeks while your chest presses into his hand.

He groans deeply when you swirl your tongue around the head again, and the metal piercing slides slickly against your mouth. “Fuck… you’re taking it so good,” Dodge growls while his hand presses against your tit harder and his fingers pinch and roll your nipple between them. “Messy little mouth, I like it.” Drool strings down your chin as you push deeper, and you gag lightly when he nudges the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his thighs to ground yourself, while your jaw strains, and when you pull back with a wet pop, a line of spit clings from your lips to his cock.

You catch your breath only for a second before diving back down as you lick and suck harder like you want to prove yourself. “Shit- yeah, that’s it,” he says through gritted teeth with his hips lifting just enough to meet your pace. His eyes stay locked on your tits that bounce with every move of your body, and his hand keeps twisting your nipple, pulling another muffled whine from your throat around his cock. Your mouth stays locked around him with spit slicking your chin, while his hand works your tit, but then he moves and his fingers slide to the back of your head again.

His grip tightens, not rough at first, just enough to hold you steady. “Open wider,” Dodge mutters while staring down at you with that half-smirk that makes your stomach twist. “Gonna fuck that throat now.” The words send a rush through your chest and you pull off just enough to breathe. Your lips glisten as you wipe your chin quickly with the back of your hand. “You’re really gonna-” The rest dies in your throat because he tilts his hips forward and rubs his cockhead against your spit-slick lips. “Yeah,” he cuts in with his voice deep and steady. “So quit stalling.”

Nervous heat crawls down your neck, but you open up again and part your jaw until the tip rests heavy on your tongue. “Don’t- don’t go too fast,” you manage muffled before he pushes forward. A deep grunt leaves his chest as his cock slides back in this time, deeper than before, and your eyes squeeze shut as the thick weight nudges the back of your throat. His hand steadies you and holds your head in place while his hips roll slowly. “Shit, look at that. Taking it better than I thought.” A muffled noise escapes you, and spit bubbles around the base as you try to swallow.

The pull burns, but the sound of his voice makes you push down the urge to pull away. His cock drags out again with a wet slurp, only for him to thrust back in quicker, and it makes your throat tighten around the piercing. Your nails dig into his thighs, and when he feels the light scrape through his jeans, his laugh comes rough and quick. I thought you wanted to impress me.” Your eyes start to water, and it hurts a bit when you blink because they already sting, and you try to breathe, but your throat feels too full, so it’s hard to do it right, and you end up gagging when your nose touches his stomach. He keeps you there for a few seconds, like he doesn’t want to let you move, so you just stay still.

You tap his thigh once in warning and pull back with a harsh cough as spit strings from your lips to his cock. “You didn’t even give me a second-” Your breathing ragged while you wipe your mouth and try speaking at the same time. “You’ll get a second when I give you one,” Dodge says, and his thumb swipes at the spit on your chin before pushing your lips apart again. “C’mon, back on it. Don’t tell me you’re done.” Your chest heaves as you lean in again, and your lips wrap around him slower this time.

He lets you set the pace for a moment while he watches you bob your head with messy determination. But then his patience ends, and his hand clamps tighter on your hair. “That’s enough. My turn now.” He thrusts forward harder, and it makes your throat seize as he drives himself in halfway. The sound of your gagging fills the space between you, and it mixes with his rough grunts. “Fuck- yeah, that’s it. Open up for it.” Your body jerks slightly each time his hips snap forward, but his grip keeps you steady.

Spit pours from your lips and slides down your chest while his other hand slips down to grope your tits again. His thumb pinches your nipple hard as he groans, “Mouth full of cock and still got these bouncing for me. Perfect fucking view.” The only answer you can give is a broken wet noise around him, and your throat stays tight and sore as his pace builds. Each thrust forces the piercing against your tongue, and it clicks against your teeth when he drags back. The sound alone makes him grunt louder, and he pushes deeper until your nose presses against his skin again.

Your lungs burn when he finally lets you pull back for air, and you’re gasping with spit hanging in strings from your chin. You wipe at your mouth with a shaky hand and croak out, “You’re- fuck- you’re actually crazy for that.” Dodge just laughs, and his breath stays heavy as he taps his cock against your swollen lips. “And you’re still opening up for more. Don’t lie like you don’t love it.” His hand clamps firmer at the back of your head as he leans over you, and his hips rock forward until the weight of his cock fills your throat again.

Spit coats your lips and dribbles down your chin in messy trails, but Dodge doesn’t let up. The piercing at his tip drags against the back of your tongue each time he pulls out, then bumps against the tight squeeze of your throat when he forces himself back in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he mutters through a rough grunt, and his stomach tightens as he watches your mouth stretch wide around him. “Fuckin’ knew you could take it.” His hips snap forward harder, and he shoves deeper until your nose is mashed against the warm skin of his lower belly.

A gag rattles in your throat and tears prick at your eyes, but he only growls, “Hold it- hold it right there for me.” Your chest heaves while he keeps you still, and his cockhead nudges against the tight ring inside your throat. The piercing catches each time he moves, and wet clicks echo from your mouth, making his jaw clench. A quick laugh slips out of him when your nails scratch at his thigh. “You feel that? That’s the metal hittin’ every fuckin’ spot in your throat.” His thumb presses against your cheek, and he feels the outline of himself bulging inside. “Shit, you’re wrapped around me so good.”

When he finally lets you pull back, spit stretches in thick strings from your swollen lips to his cock. You gasp wetly and drool slips from the corner of your mouth, but Dodge doesn’t give you long. His hand shoves you back down, and this time, he starts to thrust at a steady pace with his hips slapping against your face with each push. Your throat works around him with wet choking sounds, and every plunge makes spit spray across your chin and chest. His cock pierces deep, and the jewelry clinks softly against your teeth whenever he drags back.

He groans, and his voice comes out rough as his head falls back. “Fuck, that sound. You’re choking on it like you were made for this.” The couch creaks under his weight as he drives faster, and he doesn’t give you space to breathe except for quick gasps when he drags out. Each time you cough, he shoves back in and grins down at the sight of your throat bulging with his length. “Messy little thing, look at you,” he rasps with your spit running down to his balls and making them slick. “Drippin’ everywhere, takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ toy.”

His thrusts grow harder and more demanding until he’s using your mouth like a hole. The piercing catches deeper now and clicks against the tight walls of your throat with every rough push, and the sound alone has him snarling through his teeth. One hand tugs your hair tight to hold you in place while the other digs into the arm of the couch as his hips slam forward again and again. “Don’t run from it,” Dodge grunts, and his voice breaks as he grinds himself down your throat. “Stay right there, yeah? Gonna fuck your throat.”

His eyes narrow on your tear-streaked face and spit soaks your chest as you gag around him while his hips keep snapping forward like he can’t stop. Your knees wobble as he grips your hair tightly, forcing your head exactly where he wants it. Every ragged breath and each low growl that leaves him runs through you until your chest tightens and your stomach knots up. You’re trembling slick completely caught in the storm he’s creating as your hands brace on his hips to keep from tipping over.

“Don’t even think about pulling away,” he growls with his voice hoarse and desperate, while his teeth are gritted as he presses down harder. Your lips are wet, and the spit keeps going down to your chin while your throat gets tighter around him, so you gag a little as your body starts reacting because of it. There's a sound coming from your mouth every time he moves faster and every time he pushes harder, and your whole body trembles like you can’t stop it anymore. You hold on to his hips so tight because you really try to stay still, but he keeps doing it, and it’s really hard to stay like that. He stops for one second so you can breathe and swallow, but his eyes still have that fire.

“You feel that?” he says, and his voice sounds rough. “All of it… I’ve got you. Right here. Right now.” His hips drive down again, his cock pressing deep with no mercy, while a shiver rushes through you as your spine arches and your knees give out. Your hair stays wound tight in his hands while your mouth stays slick as your throat burns and shakes with every ragged, desperate breath. Each gasp or broken moan or trembling sound only pushes him further while he leans into you as he makes sounds through the messy tempo. You’re trembling and pinned by his hands as his weight is completely lost to him and leaving you breathless, slicked, and hanging right on the edge.

He makes a sound from his throat, and then he pushes down again, and it’s harder this time, so your knees start shaking so bad. You hold his hips so tight with your hands because if you don’t have him like that, you feel like you will really fall down. Your throat starts to burn, and it feels wet inside because it makes you choke a bit every time he goes deeper. The spit goes down your chin, and your chest keeps going up and down fast as you are trying to stay still, but your body just doesn’t listen. “Look at you,” he hisses while his teeth stay clenched and his voice sounds rough. “Shaking like this… can’t even think.” He tugs your hair as his hips snap faster while you choke and cough and shake, which only seems to make him go even harder.

One hand moves to your jaw and tilts your head slightly while the other keeps your hips in place as every hard push and every uneven breath and every shiver makes him growl. You’re shaking and gagging and trying to stay upright while completely caught in him. Even as your knees wobble and your throat stings, the tension keeps climbing while every motion and every gasp and every snap of him stays rough and electric. You’re pinned and shaking and completely at his mercy.

You try to lift a hand to tap his thigh and gasp for a second of air, but he grabs your wrist before you can move. “Stay still,” he growls while his voice stays rough. “Don’t even think about stopping. You’re not getting a break.” Your throat hurts every time he pushes in because it’s already too much, and your knees feel so weak, so you hold his hips tighter just to keep standing. Then he leans his body closer so you can’t move away, while his hips keep moving fast and hard, even if it already feels too much, but he still doesn’t stop. Quiet growls tear past his teeth while the motion drives you further into the mess.

“You’re doing so good,” he rasps while his voice catches. “Don’t move. Just like that.” His hand tightens in your hair again and keeps you exactly where he wants you while your throat stays slick and trembling, and every motion makes you gasp and shiver. You breathe heavily as you try to swallow around him while a violent shiver runs through you. Your knees threaten to give out as your chest rises and falls fast, but every ragged breath only seems to push him on, and you can tell he’s close. The way he moves grows harder and quicker, so your body trembles even more under his control.

You gag around him, and your throat keeps getting tight every time he pushes hard, and your body moves a little because you try to adjust, but his hands don’t let you move at all. Your eyes start to tear up, and it goes down your face while you try to breathe, though it’s really hard since your head feels like it’s turning, and everything already feels too much. His hips keep hitting you so hard, and it goes so deep each time he moves that it keeps pushing you further into the mess he’s making. You choke again while a ragged gasp slips out, and more tears slide down your face as your body shakes harder under him.

He doesn’t stop, and every motion drives you closer to the breaking point, even when your knees start to give and your throat burns. Another rough push makes you gag hard while your eyes water so much that everything in the room starts to fade away. His hips move with steady control as the force of him pressing down makes your body shake until you can’t stay balanced. You try to adjust and reach for a breath, but the pace never slows, so the tears keep falling as you fight the urge to gag.

His moves go a bit needy for a second when his hips jerk, and then he is done while he pushes everything inside your throat. You gag and choke around him one more time, and the tears just fall down your face while your throat hurts and keeps shaking. His hands finally let go of your hair, but his hold on your hips stays for a while to keep you from falling while you try to breathe. When he slows down, some of it comes out from his cock and goes down your throat and chin while you wheeze and your knees start shaking and your throat feels sore while you try to swallow and wipe your tears away.

His hips stay close as his breathing turns uneven while small growls slip out every few seconds. Even when the mess starts to ease, the heat and tension remain, leaving your body unsteady as your chest rises and falls rapidly. Finally, he pulls back slowly while slick trails from his cock slide out of your mouth, and the motion leaves your throat sore and tight as you cough weakly and try to clear it, but more tears still run down your cheeks. He leans back slightly to give you space to breathe, yet his eyes stay locked on yours, and they look dark and heavy while you realize you are still completely caught in him and everything that just happened.

You lean closer again while you try to ignore the soreness in your throat as his hips keep twitching and the tip of his cock glistens with what’s left of him, while your eyes catch the small piercing when it shines under the light. “So,” you start while you tilt your head a little. You run your tongue over it as you flick it gently. “This… this little thing,” you murmur while you lick again. “You weren’t planning on mentioning that?” You grin against him as you tease. Dodge looks down at you, and amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his chest rises slowly as his breathing steadies.

“Would’ve taken all the fun out of it,” he says as his hips jerk slightly at the contact. You hum and pretend to think while your eyes lift to meet him, though your tongue keeps tracing the piercing. “Guess you’re right,” you say softly as you swirl your tongue over it. “Just wish I’d known before you decided to-” You stop yourself with a small grin. “Actually… maybe not. The surprise kind of worked.” You take the tip between your lips while you tease the piercing, and he hisses as his grip tightens in his own hair while his body shudders under the touch.

You hum around him while your lips slide over it, and your lashes flutter as you press a little deeper. “Mm… think I could get used to this.” His grin deepens, and for a second, he looks proud of himself, though his voice comes out rough when he speaks. “Yeah?” He leans back as his eyes go dark while rough sounds slip from his throat, though you keep swirling and licking and teasing until his jaw flexes and his breath stutters. You grin again while your voice turns playful. “Yeah. Might even call it my new favorite part of you.”

⠀⠀

⠀⠀ twenty-twenty-five © addie / musingsofheaven.

⠀⠀

TAGS ꜜ @0ngeeked @11erinome11 @aceofheartsssss @aki-gremlin @aqqqua-marine @ash273819 @blushhbambi @calzone-d @celestialtori @challengers4ev @chososcondom @cinnamonpretzelz @cntrlm3 @fluidlystrangerealm @giyuusslut3 @grxnde-dwt @haerinsmable @heartfully10 @julesispunk @knighttrider @kokolokomokoo @kristine13 @kurtcobaingirlie @laceystyles @laelara3 @llovekats @loser-geek-wannabe-dumbass @lotsoftia @luvdeuce @mitchesmoon @nylluns @overrlygoinn @purpleplumpudding @rosetintmworld @sturnskiss @tendertulip @themostpreciouspearl @umbreoni @unclearblur @vamplena @venuswarmlight @xombied @xxyaoi-nationxx

[sincerlydonaldson]

sooo just me orrr??

dodge mason & pope cody x reader

mdni, 18+, nsfw

you and pope make eachother so needy

dodge never leaves the house hungry

helping pope through a rough night

favorite place is dodge’s sheets

pope knows all your angles

you drive dodge insane

[evangelines-archive]

s1 pope cody who's annoyed you can't grab properly at his hair when he eats you out

pope cody x fem!reader

pet names used (pretty girl, sweet girl, baby...)

Pope's tongue traced the outline of your pussy, softly and gently, before his lips wrapped around your clit sucking on it frantically.

"Popey, fuck," you squealed loudly, "Too much baby."

Your hands moved to his hair, trying to grab at it unsuccessfully, eventually you laced your fingers at the back of his head, pushing his face further into your cunt.

Grabbing at your hands wildly, Pope shoves your fingers into his hair.

"Need you to pull at my hair baby, can you do that for me, sweet girl?" He mumbles into your pussy, the vibrations furthering the coil you could already feel forming in your stomach.

"Nghh, yeah..." You pant frantically, "I can be good for you, Pope."

You pulled at the short hair, your grip slipping while the coil in your stomach tightened. Pope keeps his hand over yours, while inserting a finger into your cunt.

"C'mon sweet girl, stay focused, need your hands in my hair baby, 'know you can be good for me." Pope fingers move quickly, moving against your g-spot.

Your hips buck off of the bed, "Fuck Pope 'm gonna come, keep going please." You moan so loudly that Pope almost comes straight in his pants, the sharp pain from your hair tugging shooting straight to his cock.

"Yeah baby, gonna come for me? Why don't we come together." With his fingers moving wildly, in and out of your pussy, and his wet mouth sucking at your clit, that coil bursts, your release spraying all over Pope's face.

"Fuck pretty girl," he moans, grinding against the mattress, "my girl's pussy so good it made me come in my pants." You giggle slightly.

He moves to pull his fingers out, and you whine, the sound echoing around the bedroom.

"Alright, sweet girl, let's get you cleaned up, huh?"

I'm insecure about my smut writing so I hope this was okayyyyy 🫶

[itwilra]

oh to be 13 again reading fanfiction till the sun came up 😞😞

[tuckedawaywithbay]

Sea of temptation

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: in which you being Sarah Cameron’s best friend having a crush on her brother , you , Sarah , rafe and some of his friends head out for a tan and beach day , which turns heated after the trip

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈 :Bsfbrother!Rafe Cameron X F!Reader

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈: 18+ Mdni , fingering ( f! Receiving) , semi public sex , cursing , Smut , open ending ? ( might have a part 2 )

You’d been staring at Rafe for the past ten minutes like he was the only person in the entire backyard.

His hair had grown out nicely .

no more of that severe buzzcut he used to rock.

The longer, sun bleached strands fell messily over his forehead, and every time he ran a hand through them, your stomach flipped.

He looked taller, broader in the shoulders, the muscles in his arms flexing under his tight t-shirt as he laughed at something Kelce said.

The man had filled out in all the right ways, and damn if your body wasn’t reacting immediately.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

Sarah’s sharp elbow to your ribs nearly made you yelp.

“Ow!” you hissed, rubbing the spot.

Topper and Kelce glanced over with raised eyebrows, but Rafe didn’t even look up.

He stayed relaxed in his chair, legs spread wide, the picture of effortless dominance.

Sarah smirked, leaning closer.

“Why don’t we take the yacht out? It’s been forever since we’ve been on the water.”

She turned to her brother with that sweet, manipulative smile she knew worked on him.

“Come on, Rafe. Please?”

Rafe’s blue eyes flicked from his sister to you.

The intensity in them made your breath hitch.

You weren’t paying attention to the conversation anymore, you were too busy memorizing the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his gaze darkened when it lingered on your body.

Heat crawled up your neck.

He exhaled through his nose, pretending to be annoyed.

“Fine. I’ll get the yacht ready.”

Sarah squealed and immediately grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs to change.

You both slipped into bikinis ,hers a classic red, yours the pink polka-dot set that made you feel dangerously confident.

By the time you stepped back outside, the boys were already down at the dock.

The yacht bobbed gently in the water, tied securely to the cleat.

Topper and Kelce were bickering loudly over the engine, shoving each other like overgrown children.

Rafe turned around the moment you approached and froze.

His eyes raked slowly down your body, taking in every curve the tiny bikini barely contained.

The way the fabric hugged your breasts, the high cut of the bottoms that showed off your hips and ass.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

For a second, it looked like his brain had completely powered down.

Sarah hopped onto the yacht first. Rafe offered her a hand politely, but when you stepped up, his large palm settled firmly on your waist instead.

His fingers splayed across your bare skin, warm and possessive, pulling you closer than necessary.

The touch sent electricity racing through you. Sarah shot him a suspicious side eye, but he ignored her completely.

The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter, music, and splashing water.

But as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in deep oranges and pinks, the others started heading back.

Kelce, Topper, and Sarah tied off the yacht and disappeared into the house, their voices fading up the lawn.

You stayed behind, sitting on the floor of the yacht with your legs dangling over the edge, watching the sunset.

The gentle rocking of the boat and the warm breeze felt peaceful.

Until Rafe dropped down beside you.

He sat so close his thigh pressed against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then his hand landed on your knee, sliding slowly upward, fingertips tracing the inside of your thigh.

One thing led to another… fast.

Now you were straddling his lap, your bikini bottoms shoved aside as two of his thick fingers thrust deep inside your soaked pussy.

His thumb worked tight, relentless circles over your swollen clit.

You were trembling, hands gripping his broad shoulders, head tipped back while shameless moans fell from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re incredibly wet,” Rafe groaned into your neck, voice low and rough.

His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard through the thin pink fabric until you cried out.

The wet heat of his tongue combined with the steady thrust of his fingers had you seeing stars.

Your hips rolled desperately against his hand, chasing the pleasure.

The coil in your stomach tightened unbearably.

“Rafe— M’gonna cum—”

He didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he curled his fingers, hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firmer.

His free hand gripped your ass, guiding your movements.

The tension snapped hard.

Your thighs shook violently as you came, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

Rafe kept pumping through it, drawing out every last wave until you were panting and boneless against his chest.

You buried your face in his neck, trying to catch your breath.

He kissed along your jaw and throat, surprisingly gentle after how filthy he’d just been.

“Yo, Rafe! You coming inside or what?!” Kelce yelled from the garden, squinting through the dim light.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a sec !” Rafe shouted back, voice husky.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, deliberately dragging them along your sensitive folds before wiping them on the front of your bikini bottoms with a smirk.

He pressed one last lingering, open mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, then stood up.

As he turned to leave, he paused, looking back at you with dark, hungry eyes that promised so much more.

“Meet me in my bedroom tonight” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Late. After everyone’s asleep. Don’t make me wait, baby.”

He gave you one last heated look before climbing off the yacht, leaving you flushed, half naked, and already throbbing with anticipation on the gently rocking deck.

Best day in history and it wasn’t even over yet.

𝒜𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ :

This is lowkey ass but nvm 😗 enjoy !

[j4ckr4bbits]

@romantic-insomniac and i were talking about being pope's fake hostage for a job and getting turned on by his rough treatment… this might be the longest fic i've ever written lmao

andrew "pope" cody x fem!reader

18+ MDNI | cw: bank robbery, fearplay, gunplay, chokehold / choking, sub!pope at the end, mention of nipple sucking

pope had been so stressed out about getting the money he needed for lena's trust fund. it's not like he could ask his brothers for help with a job — they'd all ask for their cut, and he needed all the cash he could get. it was making him brood more than usual, so you hadn't even wanted to initiate sex recently, knowing he wouldn't be in the mood.

eventually, pope had narrowed down the bank he wanted to hit, but he was having a little trouble with the logistics. it was a lot trickier to rob a bank solo.

you watch as he pores over meticulously laid out blueprints, his eyes low, waiting a few moments before you speak up.

"why don't i help?"

pope's eyes linger on the table for a while before he turns to you. "you're not getting involved with this," he murmurs.

"why not?" you ask.

"because you've never done this before," he replies plainly with an arched eyebrow. "hitting a bank for your first job? it's too dangerous."

"i didn't mean that i'd be taking the place of one of the guys," you elaborate, voice slow and soothing, "i meant as a civilian. a hostage. y'know? like how smurf used to act like an sweet, clueless lady when you hit diners together? and she'd make you hold her up?"

pope's brows crease at the memory. he remembers how well that had worked: his mother had really sold the "frightened lady caught in the crossfire" act. and he knew you were quite the actor, considering how sweet you could be towards smurf despite your disdain for her, and how easily you could fool any wayward cops into thinking you had no knowledge of the goings on inside the cody compound.

"that could work," he mumbles as he works through it in his mind. "you get there early, wait in line to cash a check or two…"

"right," you agree, a soft smile forming on your face. "you bust in all scary, wave a gun around, put me in a chokehold…"

pope listens as your voice turns a little breathy at the idea. he can picture it going off without a hitch now.

"alright," he grits out eventually. "listen carefully, here's what's gonna happen…"

it's just after half past ten in the morning, and you're at the bank. you lingered at the side for a while, pretending to be very interested in a business checking account pamphlet, before it was time to join the queue. your pulse kicks up just a tad. any second now…

the door busts open with a loud thud and you jump, just like everyone else, before you hear sharp yelps and shrieks.

"EVERYONE DOWN, ON THE GROUND, NOW!"

it's pope's voice, muffled slightly behind his ski mask. you almost obey him out of instinct before he grips you by the arm and pulls you to his chest. he smells so comforting, like his favourite lemon verbena detergent, but you remember to struggle convincingly.

"stop!" you cry out.

"you shut up," he hisses back. with a grunt, pope slings the crook of his elbow around your neck, pushing just hard enough to make you gasp.

it's a gasp that convinces everyone else in the bank that you're currently struggling for air, fearing for your life, but pope knows it means you're incredibly turned on.

"mornin'," he mumbles gruffly against your temple, and you can feel the way he hovers for a milisecond, fighting the inclination to press a kiss there.

to really sell it, pope lifts his gun and presses the cold metal of the barrel to the place where he'd just had his lips. you hear multiple people gasp. your panties are soaked.

"any of you move, and she gets it," he bellows, and it echoes through the unnatural stillness of the bank. you whimper, forcing tears to your eyes as you let your knees buckle slightly.

"you okay?" pope whispers almost imperceptibly against your ear.

"harder," you reply through a sniffle.

at that, pope tugs your body upwards, hauling you upright. "stand up," he commands. "hands behind your back."

you obey, your wrists clasping against your lower back. you take the chance to clutch at the edge of his shirt, tugging pope impossibly closer. he exhales, then walks you over to the nearest teller.

"empty it out— quickly," he orders. the teller's gaze momentarily flicks between pope's masked face and yours. your eyes are scrunched shut, your mascara running, your chest heaving with laboured breaths. she empties the register without an argument.

he goes around the rest of the registers the same way, using your innocent, terrified, whimpering face to get the cash he needs. pope drags you out of the bank with his gun still pressed to your head. you make sure to end your performance with a little kicking and screaming and a performatively loud "what are you going to do to me?" before he hauls you into his car.

he peels out of the parking lot, and the drive home is fast, tense with anticipation. pope pulls off his mask and his auburn curls are gloriously messy and damp with sweat. your thighs press together, both from the sight of him, and from the rush of the job.

pope clenches his jaw as he drives, and then when you're finally safe behind the gates of the cody compound, he rumbles out a "… bravo. you did good."

he tells you to go wait in his room while he brings the duffles of money in, and you don't waste a second before stripping yourself bare, the thrill of the heist still thrumming in your veins. besides, it had been a while since the two of you had had sex, and what better occasion to fuck for than a successful heist?

soon enough, you're riding pope into the mattress in broad daylight. it's barely noon, and you're grinding your hips deep into his as you grip his wide shoulders. you have a lot of adrenaline to use up.

"that— was— fucking amazing," you pant as you bounce on his cock.

pope's breathless too. he has one of your nipples in his mouth, the other cupped is in his thick palm. his free hand is squeezing an ass cheek as you roll on top of him.

he pops his lips free of your breast, still glistening with spit, as he gazes up at you, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. it's a wild contrast to the fearsome expression he had plastered on just hours ago.

"not— ah— wasn't too rough?"

"not nearly rough enough," you breathe out in reply, pressing his cheeks together in a hand.

"you shoulda slapped me when i talked back, like i told you to, that would've sold it so much better."

pope grunts in acknowledgement, and his eyes fall shut at the idea. not of slapping you, but of how much more ravenous for him it would make you for him afterwards. his cock twitches where it's nestled deep inside you.

"next time," he murmurs as he pouts up at you for a kiss.

[mcthsman]

pope runs away with his girlfriend and leaves his family behind. Years later he reconnects with deran bc that's his baby brother, he's shocked to see a little army of kids when pope invites him to visit

GIRL the way i could not stop thinking about this… i was just going to write a lil’ paragraph and then suddenly it got way too long so i put everything under a read more.

warnings: mdni, pure domestic fluff, pregnant afab reader, silver fox pope cody.

word count: 1.2k.

you’re the one that convinces andrew to track down his brother. he tells you a lot of stories — both the good and the bad ones — about their childhood and you think it’s a shame that deran isn’t around to meet his nephew and niece; you understand why they broke contact, of course you do, but you really believe that now that they’re both out from underneath smurf’s thumb, things will be different. so, because andrew would do literally anything you ask, he tracks down deran and gives him a call. deran is in bali with adrian and it takes them a while to set up a proper meeting but the two of them talk every week after that initial call— it’s stilted and awkward, both of them wanting to reconnect but unsure how to go about it; they were never close, pope tells you one evening after a particularly uncomfortable call. no. deran and craig were close. pope was just… their big brother. the one they ran to when they needed someone beat up, not the one they would go to for small talk and human connection. 

deran flies home three days before christmas. you don’t live in oceanside anymore, but you’re still in california: up north, where the beaches aren’t as crowded and twice as beautiful; deran comes by himself and he makes a joke about not wanting to spend the holidays with adrian’s parents but you’re fairly certain he was just looking for an excuse to be with his own family for the first time in years. 

to say he is surprised when he steps through the airport lounge to find three little kids waiting there with a WELCOME UNCLE DERAN sign is an understatement. The sign is big and messy, much like your home life— there are hand prints in red and green adorned around the words, crudely drawn christmas trees adorned in glitter and the ‘e’ in deran is written backwards because each kid wrote one of the words and julia is still learning her letters. 

you’ve never met deran before. pope kept you away from his family when the two of you first started dating and, while you’d been offended at first, it was easy to see the level of damage that his childhood had done to his psyche, so you stayed away. it’s been almost a decade since then though and, apart from andrew, deran is the only one alive— so you pull him into a hug as if you’ve known each other for decades before introducing each of the kids: the twins, theo and ethan, who are both six and absolute menaces and then julia, at just four years old, that looks so much like your andrew as she shies away from deran’s greetings. 

“andy told us so much about you.” you say, unable to hide your smile when andrew himself pulls deran into a long hug; you know how hard it is for him to initiate contact and, although it has mellowed out with the children, it still takes a lot for him to stiffly wrap his arms around his younger brother’s shoulders.

“three kids, huh?” deran asks that evening, long after the children have gone to bed. the three of you sit on the back porch of your home, pope and deran side by side while you sit perched on pope’s lap. deran is on his second beer while you and pope share a glass of iced tea— andrew stopped drinking years ago, before the twins, after he finally managed to find a psychiatrist he could trust. 

“four.” pope says, big hands sprawling over your stomach. “her due date’s in may.”

“holy shit.” deran shakes his head, but the smile that curls around the bottle is a fond one. “pope cody, family man. who would’ve guessed.”

“i knew from the day we met.” you say, then, turning a little from your spot so you could look down at your husband. andrew’s head tilts back against the beach chair and you bring a hand up, tucking a stray curl — more grey than ginger, now — behind his ear. “knew it from the moment i saw how good he was with lena.” 

andrew’s face blushes hard, bright red as it always does whenever you compliment him. he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and whatever he’s about to say is drowned out by a loud, whiny ‘daddyyyyyy’ coming from the living room. pope is out of the chair before you can even register julia’s voice, his hands gently cradling your hips to guide you back into his seat before he disappears into the house. 

“he’s happy.” deran breaks the silence the two of you fall into. you bite your bottom lip, watching through the window as andrew throws julia over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen pope unclench his asshole before.” 

you giggle, finishing your tea, knees to your chest— as much as your hardening belly allows you to, anyway. the night sky is bright with silver stars above you, the ocean breeze just enough to make it chilly. you know what deran means, you’ve met the uptight, overvigilant version of andrew, but it’s so far in the past you can barely remember what he was like before.

“he’s loved.” you say, eventually. “i think that’s the main difference.” 

“thank you.” deran tells you. you take your eyes from the stars to look at him, blinking in confusion. “for loving him.” 

you don’t know how to answer that. it doesn’t seem like the sort of action that requires a thank you, it’s not the sort of thing you could ever stop and it surely isn’t labor; but you think you understand, deep down, what deran means. pope hasn’t had people love him — truly love him — before. 

“pope didn’t even tell me he has kids.” deran groans when you don’t say anything, rubbing his forehead. “i’m gon’ have to run around the mall on christmas’ eve to get gifts for the damn brady bunch because the motherfucker didn’t warn me.” 

you bark out a laugh. “it’s alright, deran.” 

“no, it isn’t— i can’t have these kids thinking i’m a shit uncle on our first christmas together.”

“i’m sure you’ll find a way to get him back for it.” 

“oh, i will.” deran turns his head to you, a small grin on his lips. “did he ever tell you about the permanent marker incident?”

“he did.” you point a finger at him. “and you will not ruin my christmas pictures, sir. go sow all of his leg pants shut or something like a normal brother.”

“what’re we talking about?” andrew says, coming back through the sliding glass door. 

“julia alright?” you ask, getting up just so you can crawl back onto his lap. 

“blankie went awol, she dropped him in her sleep. ‘s all good now.”

“we were talking about how much of an asshole my big brother is for not telling me there would be kids in the house on christmas. do you have any idea how much cheaper it would’ve been if i bought their presents from home?”

“deran’s going to get revenge on you for making him fist fight all the other deadbeat uncles that are buying kids toys on christmas eve.” 

andrew snorts, a hand running up and down your thigh. “i know where all the permanent markers are in this house.”

“absolutely not.” you waggle a finger at the both of them. “no permanent markers anywhere visible on photos.”

“your woman’s damn bossy, pope.”

andrew grins up at you. “yeah, she is.”

taglist: @ptolemaea444 @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @shadowqueen2024 @daniel-bruhhl @ohtiramisuu @honey-moon-13 @pearlessance @mytearsricochetm @taniamiller @pedroncigarettes @clocksonthewall79  @speaktothehandpeasants @msboblikestoread @h-the-comet @goodvibesonly421 @iloved1lfs0 @deathbyvex @callsignmagnolia @amourflores @madmelz @lunavelho @damoclesdarling @cosmosnkaz @desuidesu @realultracunt @angelbunny222 @realwhoreforfictionalmen @uhhhhokayyyyy @dmclazybread @peachiestevie @laylasyce @xoxoloverb @franche06 @vicky066 @aoi-warrior @luluskye @bedbugism @anqieluv @artsymaddie @infiremejoon

[mytearsricochetm]

FOX OMG!! you're making tear up, this is the sweetest most fluffy thing in the world, i love it and i love dad!andrew. He'd be the sweetest most patient dad

and my boy deran oh you'd be the best uncle ever and the only person Andrew lets hold your newborn baby

[mcthsman]

aaaaaa i'm glad you liked it!!!!!! the idea is all yours i just ran with it 😌😌 i need pope to be happy SO BAD i need him to be loved and with a big family and mentally stable right nowwwww that is the only ending for him that i will ever accept!!!!

PLS i love deran 🥺🥺 and i think he'd make a GREAT uncle 🥺🥺 teaching the kids how to surf??? taking them on days out and just stuffing them with candy and junk food and taking them to see movies they're definitely too young for and whenever he comes to visit the boys can barely sleep the night before

[damoclesdarling]

yuhp and i genuinely started laughing when deran yapped about being a bad uncle and fighitng all the other fuckers at toys r us... MMJHMM I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

[mcthsman]

SKSMSKMS THANK UUUU & PLS i can 100% see deran having to call andrew from the little shopping mall jail because he sucker punched some other guy that was trying to buy the last labubu

[mcthsman]

*FOLSOM PRISON BLUES: a pope cody x reader story.

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 🤍)