Stepdad!robby coming home after a tiring shift.
Reader coming down the stairs, saying hi to her daddy <3 she can see that he’s tired, so she offers to run him a bath.
As the old man that he is, Robby tell her that he’s so exhausted even for a bath, so Reader assures him that she will help him.
It’s all so sweet, how devoted Reader is in washing her stepdad, and as she keeps on dragging the loofah on his skin, she notices Robby’s erection:
I’m sorry Angel. It’s just a natural reaction, would you help me with this too?
[I love your blog, hope you likes this]
woooahhh this is soooo buzzy!!
warning: this is icky!! icky icky icky!! dumbification lowk, reader is naive as hell. robby is manipulative asf!! be warned.
helping out stepdad!robby in the bath.
“i’m sorry angel. it’s just a natural reaction to you makin’ me feel good, think you could help dad out with this too?” robby knows he’s pushing his luck, but he also knows how devoted you are, how much you love your step daddy, how you’d do anything for him.
“i uh-i guess…how?” you’re all innocent eyes and shy smiles as you look up at him from your position kneeling on the floor beside the tub, loofah now discarded to the side.
"you know? like i taught you before, remember that? when you helped daddy feel really nice with your hands?" he tilts his head when he speaks to you, using that gentle tone that he knows you respond best to.
you swallow and nod slowly. "should i get in with you?"
robby nods and watches intently as you strip your clothes off, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor before stepping into the bath, you go to sit down facing him but he stops you with a hand on your hip.
"other way, angel." he guides your body with his hand so your back is turned to him now.
"but how will i be able to do that thing if i'm not facing you?" you ask but still sit down between his legs anyway. daddy always knows best so you do as you're told.
"don't worry, i'll show you. how about you open your legs for me, sweetheart?" he has both hands on each of your thighs, gently smoothing over them under the surface of the water.
"o-okay, daddy." you part your legs the best that you can in the cramped tub, bringing your knees up to your chest. robby slides his hand between your thigh and stomach, fingers resting against the soft mound of your pussy.
"okay, now give me your hand." he instructs and takes your hand in his, pushing himself as far back as he can to give you a little bit of room while he wraps your fingers around his shaft. it feels very different under the water than it did when you jerked him off before, feels softer, easier for you to glide over it with your fist.
"there ya go, doing so good, sweetheart. makin' daddy feel really nice, such a sweet girl takin' care of your old stepdad like this, aren't you? my sweet sweet girl." he purrs in your ear, his deep tone rumbling through his throat and sending shivers down your spine.
"well, i love you, daddy. this is how you show people you love them, isn't it? that's what you said before." robby wonders how he got so lucky to get such a sweet naive girl like you who just believes everything her daddy tells her. just his dumb little puppy so eager to please him.
"exactly, you're so clever, baby. you learn so quick, don't you?" he presses a wet kiss to your neck and revels in the way you lean into it, he can feel your smile across your cheeks from the praise he gave you. "hey, how about you let daddy show you how much he loves you, hm? it'll feel so nice i promise. you're always such a good girl for me, think you deserve to feel good too, right?"
"uh yeah, okay. but how?" you ask, hand still gliding up and down the length of his hard cock at the pace he taught you the last time, you can still feel the way it twitches in your hand under the warm water.
"don't worry, i'll show you. just relax, sweetheart." he presses one last kiss to your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder as he leans forwards, bringing the hand he was resting on your pussy down a little bit. his long fingers find your clit immediately and gives you a few gentle rubs, feeling your body tense up a little bit as you gasp from the sensation.
"never touched yourself there before, huh, angel?" he asks, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his damp beard tickling your warm skin. you shake your head slowly, hand still firmly wrapped around his cock, though you're jerking him slower now, a little distracted by what's going on between your legs.
"that's okay, sweetheart. it'll feel really really nice, but i need you to promise me that you won't try this yourself, only daddy can touch you like this, yeah? so if you like it and you're feeling achy down there, you just come tell me and i'll take care of it, okay?" his fingers work slow circles over your clit and small whines tumble from your lips as you nod, resting your head against his as your body starts to feel so fuzzy and limp.
"uh-huh. i promise, daddy. only dads can touch their sweet girls like this?" your moans get louder as robby's pace increases, he presses down a little harder, finding exactly the right pressure to make you fall apart in his arms.
"yep, exactly. aren't you just the smartest girl in the world, hm? my sweet girl is just so so clever." he smirks against your neck. he has you exactly where he wants you and you don't even know it
michael robinavitch you are a pervert and i love you very much <3 (maybe i’m the pervert seeing as i wrote it) anywayyy hope u enjoyed, taking a bit of a gamble posting it this late but we ball.
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Thinking about in S4 when they’re at family dinner eating ribs and Deran is like ‘Pope, slow down.’ Imagine reader lovesss to cook and on his days he fights in the ring, you always make sure Pope comes home to a big homemade meal. You’re skipping around butt ass naked in a lil’ frilly white apron with strawberries all over it - and pretty red pumps to match. Each time you walk over to top off his water or replace his beer, he grabs a handful of your ass. He massages it while you dote on him, and gives it a smack as you saunter back to the kitchen - leaving fingerprints of whatever sauce he’s been sucking off his fingers on your ass cheek. 🥵
In the morning you’d make him an omelette with bacon and eggs, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. You set it down in front of him with a couple advil and a sweet kiss to his cheek. When he’s done, you take his empty plate and start the dishes. He comes up behind you and spins you around to face him. His beefy, veiny arms lift you on top of the counter.
“What are you-? Andrew!” You squeal, squeezing his shoulders tight while he picks you up like it’s nothing.
“Not finished eating, baby. Need something sweet.” He crouches down til he’s eye level with your pussy. He looks up at you with intense, hazel eyes surrounded by swollen cuts and purple bruises. His eyes are glassy as he holds your gaze for a moment, before diving into your glistening cunt. Your hands reach for his curls, tugging them as your back arches against the kitchen cabinets.
He eats your pussy like he didn’t just have breakfast seconds, just absolutely fucking devours it. He’s swirling his tongue around your folds while sucking on your puffy clit. And while he looks all dark and brooding with his injuries, he gets insecure and keeps looking up at you every so often to ensure he’s making you feel good.
“Oh Andy, yes! Right there,” you moan, giving him the reassurance he needs. He pulls away to put one finger - then two - into your sopping cunt. His chest vibrates with a low groan watching you clench around his thick digits, the squelching sound music to his ears. He puts his mouth back on your clit, resuming his previous movements while pumping his fingers in and out of you. It’s slow at first to get you used to them, and then he picks up the pace and curls his fingers, eliciting a particularly high pitched whine from you. You push his head down a little out of excitement, shoving his face deeper into your weepy pussy.
Pretty soon you’re coming undone on his mouth and fingers, legs squirming over his shoulders. He eats you through your orgasm, lapping and slurping up every last drop. When he’s finished he licks his fingers, savoring the taste of you. He was right, you were sweet. He presses soft kisses against the insides of your shaky thighs, nuzzling his nose into the plushy skin. He stands and helps you climb off the counter.
“Wrap your legs ‘round me, sweet girl.” You do as you’re told and wrap your legs around his waist. “Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” Safe to say you had round two in the shower - back pressed against the ceramic tile while he’s holding you up off the ground in the position you’re in now - fucking up into you and tearing up when he cums inside because he just can’t believe he has the love of a woman like you.
warnings/tags: age gap (unspecified but mentioned), oral (f!), slight fingering. unprotected p in v, cream pie, robby’s a little awkward at the start, daddy kink!!!, use of ‘good girl’, pussy pronouns (her), jack abbot is a freak. absolutely nawt proofread!
wc: 3.5k
a/n: you can read part 1 here, though it’s not really necessary.
the game felt like it went on for days, though it was only a couple of hours. robby couldn’t sit still, constantly checking his watch and the time on the screen, occasionally he would look out the window to see if you were there but you never were.
jack noticed his strange behaviour and asked him about it, but when he received a gruff ‘nothing’ in response to his asking what’s wrong, he decided to drop it. he knew better than to press robby, figured he was probably just tired from his shift.
the game finally did come to an end and the way robby jumped up off the couch and seemed to usher jack out the door shocked him a little, but again he didn’t press. jack gave robby a firm pat on the shoulder and a quick “if you need anything, anything at all…i’m here for you, man.” to which robby thanked him quickly and all but pushed him out the door.
robby looked at his watch, 11pm, shit. he wondered whether you’d still be awake or not, he thought about leaving it for another day but ultimately his feet carried him to your door.
you answered the door on the first quiet knock, so fast robby wondered if you’d been waiting for him there the whole time but he didn’t have time to think as you grabbed him by the wrist and hurriedly pulled him inside.
“hey, i’m sorry that i took-” robby starts but is interrupted by one of your fingers being pressed against his lips.
“shhh. have to keep it down, my parents are asleep.” robby’s eyes widen at that admission, uh oh.
“your who!?” robby asks rhetorically in a shocked whisper. he figured you lived alone, didn’t think you still lived with your parents…now that he’s really thinking about it, he didn’t even know your age. shit.
“my parents.” you repeat, like his question was stupid. you’re dragging him up the stairs at this point, firm grip on his wrist as you lead him to your bedroom.
“yes but–” he’s stopped again by you aggressively shushing him, pointing to a closed bedroom door that he figures must be your parent’s.
you open your own bedroom door and pull him inside, swiftly closing it behind you before letting out a sigh and flopping down onto your bed. “okay, we should be good now.”
“i’m sorry, i hate to ask but, um–how old are you, sweetheart?” robby rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and watches as you let out a little laugh. though he doesn’t find this funny.
“old enough.” you wink and robby gives you a stern look.
“seriously, i’m old enough…god, want to check my id?” you roll your eyes, you were joking about the id of course but robby nods.
“seriously!?”
he nods again so with a huff you grab your purse from your bag and fish out your license, turning it towards him. “see, i told you. old enough.”
robby let’s out a sigh of relief and let’s himself relax, sitting down beside you on the edge of your bed. he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he was so busy waiting for the game to finish that he didn’t even think this far ahead. so he just kind of sat there awkwardly waiting for you to do or say something, anything.
“so…how old are you?” you ask, smirk tugging at your lips. you knew he was older, much older and you didn’t really care how old he was but seeing as he pressed you about it, you figured you’d give him the same treatment.
robby let’s out a somewhat nervous chuckle, “old enough.”
“funny guy.” you laugh before dropping your amused tone. “but seriously. i told you now you tell me.”
“50….ish…” robby looks down at the floor awkwardly, worried that you’d turn him away in disgust but you don’t. your face lights up actually.
you take one of his hands in yours, squeezing it slightly. “oh, old enough then” you giggle and he turns to face you with a genuine smile, already so endeared by you.
“so…wanna pick up where we left off?” you bite your lip, eyeing robby up and down, he nods slowly. “uh, sure. if you, if that’s what you want.”
you giggle again, amused by his nervousness. “i do want, very much so.”
robby swallows thickly as you stand up and position yourself in front of him, he spreads his legs slightly and you step into the space.
“so, where were we?” you pretend to think for a second, tapping your chin with your finger. “oh yeah!” you slowly pull your t-shirt up, exposing your bare breasts to the older man. robby’s breathing catches in his throat as his gaze meets them.
“shit.” he whispers under his breath, you giggle softly again. “like what you see?” you ask, your voice dripping in honey. robby nods, “y-yes.”
“you can touch, you know?” robby looks up at you, his eyes all big and dark and hopeful. “yeah?”
you nod, “of course, that’s kind of the whole point.”
robby takes a beat and deep breath before reaching both hands up, slowly moving to cup the underside of your breasts as if he’s scared that you’ll run away if he moves to fast. you won’t.
he lets out a shaky breath as he softly squeezes them in his hands. he seems so nervous, so sweet. your heart lurches in your chest at his demeanour, you don’t know what you expected him to be like but it wasn’t this shy, nervous little guy.
feeling a little braver, he swipes his thumbs over your hard nipples, you fall forwards slightly and a soft moan escapes your lips.
“that feel good, sweetheart?” he asks, looking up at you again, smile on his lips and cheeks flushing a slight pink.
you nod, “mhm. s’good, daddy.” you didn’t mean to say it, it just came out and you immediately felt embarrassed by it. robby’s eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up, “daddy?”
now it’s your turn to go shy, “m’sorry, didn’t mean to say that, it won’t happen–”
“no. no. don’t apologise. s’okay, sweetheart. i can be your daddy if that’s what you want?” he’d be lying if he said that hearing the word daddy fall from your sweet lips didn’t set something off in him, in an instant his nervousness washed away and he understood his assignment.
you nod again, more enthusiastically this time. “please.”
robby hums, sliding his hands down your sides to rest on your waist, long fingers digging in your plush skin, not enough to hurt but enough to feel. “want to show daddy that pretty little pussy of yours finally?”
you take in a deep breath and move to sit on the bed, crawling to the middle. robby shifts to watch you, his legs still spread and his hand playing with his strained cock over his pants.
your fingers toy with your shorts, taking a moment before hooking them under the waistband and pulling just slightly, just enough to expose the bare skin beneath.
“no panties, huh?” robby breathes, squeezing the throbbing outline of his cock as he watches intently, waiting for you to pull your shorts down the rest of the way.
you shake your head and bite your lip, “no panties.” you confirm with a slight mischievous lilt in your tone. slowly, you pull them down the rest of the way, kicking them off your feet and discarding them at the end of the bed. you keep your legs closed, for now.
robby kicks off his shoes and moves so he’s sat fully on the bed now, leaning down on his elbows so he’s eye level with your closed legs. “please open your legs f’me, sweetheart. daddy wants to see so bad.” his tone is whinier, more pathetic than he had intended it to be but you don’t seem to mind as you slowly start spreading your legs for him.
again, his breathing seems to catch in his throat and he lets out a soft, small gasp as he’s finally met with the sight of your sweet cunt. he reaches a hand out, almost touching but not yet. “can i?” he asks, looking up at you waiting for approval, and when you nod he runs two fingers up through your folds, spreading them to get a better look at how they’re already glistening with arousal.
“so pretty, sweetheart. so so pretty. bet you taste so sweet too, please can i taste her?” how could you say no when he’s pleading with those big brown eyes of his? “y-yeah, please daddy.” you’re already bringing your hips up to meet his face before you’ve finished your sentence, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin making you so desperate.
robby let’s out a satisfied hum before bringing his face down to press a kiss against your pussy, feeling the soft, plush skin beneath his lips. he allows another hum afterwards, his eyes closing as he gets the smallest hint of your taste on his lips. after one last kiss he dives in, spreading your folds with his tongue, exploring every single inch of your cunt with his mouth.
your hands fly up to grip his hair, being careful not to pull too hard but just enough to ground you as your hips buck up involuntarily into his face. “fuck!– feels s’good, daddy. shit!” you moan, back arching off the bed, burying your face into the sheets to try and hide your scrunched up expression from the older man.
that’s not good enough for robby. he slides a hand up your body and grips your cheeks, forcing your face forwards. “uh uh. don’t hide from me, sweetheart. wanna see that pretty face when i make you cum, got it?” his tone has a slight hint of condescension that has your thighs squeezing against the sides of his head.
you nod, “yes, sorry daddy.” your eyes fluttering closed as his tongue darts across your clit in quick succession that feels like tiny shocks up your spine. “good girl.” he hums against your pussy, lips wrapping around your clit to suck, not gently, he’s on a mission now, he absolutely needs to make you cum on his face.
it’s not long before you’re right there. your fingers tighten in his hair, your hips buck wildly now, thighs squeezing his head like a vice as you wail. “oh my god, yes! just like that! just like that! fuck, fuck, fuck. gonna cum, you’re gonna make me– oh shit!” the pace of robby’s tongue lapping against your clit doesn’t let up even for a second as that knot in your stomach explodes.
heat blooms across your skin and up your spine, your toes curl against the sheets and you have to cover your own mouth to muffle the scream that’s ripped from your throat. robby’s lost in the feeling of you coming undone on his face. he’s mindlessly babbling about what a good girl you are, how pretty, how good you taste, literally anything that comes to his blissed out head.
your body goes limp and your thighs finally let him go, falling to the bed beneath you. your chest swells and your breasts heave as you try to catch your breath back. your eyes are still closed tight so you don’t notice robby getting up to strip himself, nor do you notice the dip in the bed as he positions himself on top of your body.
“ready, sweet girl?” he presses a kiss to your sweat slick forehead and that’s when you open your eyes, greeted by the sight of him gazing at you adoringly.
“y-yeah, please. want your cock so bad, daddy.” you mewl, letting your hips rise up to meet his own, feeling the way his dick twitches against your skin when you call him that name.
“don’t worry, m’ not gonna make you beg for it, sweetheart. know you’re gonna take my cock so well, gonna be a good girl for me, hm?” he peppers kisses all over your face as he lines himself up at your entrance, you can feel the blunt head of his cock against you, notching in slightly and he feels big.
“mhm, so good!” you nuzzle your face against his, feeling the scratch of his beard against your flushed cheeks. “good, ready?” he holds the side of your face in one hand, his other holding his cock waiting for your final nod of approval to push in and when you give it he wastes no time in sinking into your wet heat with a deep guttural groan.
“shit! you’re so tight, baby.” he drops his forehead against yours and squeezes his eyes shut as he pushes his hips forward into yours. your eyes slam shut too, overwhelmed by the feeling of his thick cock filling you up so much, feels like he’s splitting you open.
it takes a minute for your body to relax, allowing him to sink in the rest of the way. when he’s fully buried inside of your tight hole he waits a beat before moving, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “ready?” he asks, pressing a couple more kisses to your face, down your jaw to your neck where he buries his face.
“please, daddy. please.” your tone is whiny and desperate, robby’s cock throbs inside of you at the sound and so he starts moving. it’s slow at first, just a gentle roll of his hips to get you used to the feeling but as your moaning picks up, so does his pace until all that can be heard is the sound of his hips snapping against yours and your joint moaning, his muffled by your shoulder.
“oh fuck! you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. gonna make me cum too quick if you keep squeezing my cock like that.” robby adjusts his position so he’s sat up on his knees, both hands gripping your hips so he can control your movements a little better, bringing them up to meet his thrusts.
“s-sorry, daddy. shit!– i can’t, can’t help it-t!” you’re gripping his forearms for dear life now as if you’ll take off if you don’t, like he’s the only thing keeping you here.
“s’okay, baby. don’t know any better do you? just a sweet little thing, can’t help being so fucked out on my cock can you?” robby smirks, digging his fingers into your skin a little harder, his pace becoming sloppier the more your cunt squeezes around him. you can’t even find words in your fuzzy brain anymore so you just shake your head lazily in response as little whines and moans escape your swollen, wet lips.
“think you can be good and give me one last orgasm, hmm? wanna feel you cum on my cock, pretty girl. can you do that for me? want to cum again for daddy?” you’re already sliding your hand down your stomach before he’s finished asking, fingers meeting your pulsing clit, still buzzing from your last orgasm.
“that’s it, good girl. mm, look so pretty touching yourself for me. there y’ go, yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” the sight of you touching yourself while robby fucks you has him barrelling closer and closer to his own orgasm, he holds it back though, wants to wait for you to get there first. the gentleman that he is.
“oh fuck– daddy, i’m–i’m–” you pick up speed with your hand between your legs, robby matches it with his hips. “gonna cum for me again? of course you are, you love this don’t you? love being a good girl for the old man next door, hm? christ, never even spoke to me before today and now look at you, cumming all over my cock like you were made for it.”
robby’s obscene words are what set you off, have you diving head first off the cliff into your second and hopefully final orgasm of the night. again, you have to cover your mouth with your free hand, afraid that this time you’ll wake up your parents. your cunt clamps down and spasms around robby’s cock, your legs wrap around him, heels digging into the small of his back to keep him in place. that alone sends robby right over the edge with you.
“shit, gonna cum–fuck–should i p-pull–” robby’s eyes grow wide as he realises he never even asked you about protection, got too lost in all of to even think about asking. “no, please. want to feel it inside of me. please, daddy!” not even a moment of hesitation passes through robby, and how could it? how could he say no when you’re begging him so pretty like that?
and so he doesn’t stop. his thrusting picks up, as much as it can with your legs wrapped around him and his fingers dig into your hips hard as he finally lets himself go. “oh fuck! feel so fucking good, baby. gonna fill up this pretty pussy so fucking deep. have you leaking my cum for days. shit! shit!” and true to his word he does fill you up, deep. so deep you can feel the warmth of his release inside of you, feel it reaching parts of you that you didn’t know existed, the feeling alone making you want to cum again.
but you don’t, robby collapses on top of you with a heavy thud, the weight of him caging you in on the bed. his soft, sweaty tummy heaving against your own as he comes down from his high. he doesn’t pull out, not yet, can’t even think about moving he’s so spent. so you both just lie there for a couple of minutes, waiting for the moment to pass.
eventually, it does. you don’t say much after the fact, there really isn’t that much to say so you both redress yourselves. the silence isn’t awkward, it isn’t weird, it just is. once dressed you lead robby out of your room and back downstairs to the front door.
“so…will i see you again?” robby asks once you’re out on the porch, the cool night air feeling nice against your still flushed skin.
“well, seeing as we’re neighbours i’m gonna say probably.” you giggle, you knew what he meant but you couldn’t resist being a little cheeky.
“you know what i-” robby starts but you cut him off with a quick kiss against his moving lips. “yes, you’ll see me again…” this is when you realise you don’t even know his name, never even thought to ask.
“robby.” he prompts, you give him your own name in return. “you can just call me daddy though, if you want.” he winks and you playfully hit his arm.
you say your goodnights and after one final kiss you’re going back inside. robby sighs once he gets back to his own house, feeling so completely exhausted all he wants is to collapse in his bed and finally get some sleep.
he washes himself up in the bathroom, having a quick shower and brushing his teeth before making his way to his bedroom with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
“what the fuck!?” robby screams as he enters his bedroom, grabbing the towel to stop it from falling down. when he entered his bedroom he expected it to be empty, didn’t expect his best friend to be waiting in the corner of the pitch black room when he turned the lights on.
“hello, brother.” jack smirks from where he’s sat in the chair robby likes to read in. robby’s heart feels as though it’s about to burst out of his chest and he has to sit down on the edge of the bed as to not pass out from the fright.
“what the hell are you doing here? it’s…” robby looks over at the alarm clock on his bed. “…2 in the fucking morning.”
“came to check on you, you were being weird earlier but when i came back the house was empty.” jack explains, well half explains, not really.
“why are you still here then? why didn’t you go home when you realised i wasn’t here?” robby has his head in his hands, all he wants is to go to bed, not to deal with whatever this is.
“how could i when you were putting on such a good show in the window here, brother? nice job by the way, she’s very cute, how old is she?” jack motions towards the window he’s sat by with the curtains still open, which looks directly into your own bedroom. thankfully, your curtains are closed now.
“what. the. fuck.” robby mutters under his breath, dragging his hands down his face in a mix of defeat and annoyance. “you watched? how much?”
jack smirks, “enough..”
“all of it then?”
jack nods, “yep. the whole thing. just wanted to make sure you were safe, brother. you know me, always so worried about you.” he laughs.
“you’re a real freak, abbot. a real freak.” all robby can do is laugh now, out of exhaustion or exasperation? he doesn’t know.
“yeah, i know. soo…you gonna introduce me to her or-”
“absolutely fucking not.”
ahhh hope u enjoyed!! finally got around to doing a longer one! also trying out a new layout.
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vacationin wif an old man who makes u take pics in front of sights n monuments . he holds his phone between both hands , squintin behind his glasses , sayin things like “theeeeres my girl.” “look at you.” “you look beautiful, baby.”
contains: dry humping & some domesticity. that's it that's all ^.^
wc: 1.9K (idk how i did that)
i did proofread, but yk... ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜
so easy to fall in love ♡
“saturday? yeah, i got it. well, tell auntie that we’ll try our best to be there, but i can’t make any promises.”
your eyebrows furrow and your lips morph into a curious pout as you zone in on the tail end of your boyfriend’s phone call. the movie you had been streaming immediately became unimportant with the brief mention of his family claiming your full attention instead.
likely referring to another impromptu get-together that they’re clearly asking for you both to attend, you were itching to learn the details of it over the plot of a film you admittedly had little interest in before you even pressed play. the fact that the volume hadn’t made it past ten should’ve been enough to emphasize its insignificance.
“doesn’t matter to me, but i’ll ask her and see what she thinks.” valko exhales with a hum of approval in acknowledgment to whatever else his cousin was relaying, leaning back and tilting his head so that his temple can rest comfortably against your knee. with the warmth of him against you and the soft caress of his fingers along and around your ankle, little moments like these made you cherish having a man so mindlessly affectionate.
to call your boyfriend clingy was an understatement, but it was something about him that you’d never trade for anything in the world. the moment you welcomed him into your life with open arms and kissed him sweetly when he confidently asked you with the silliest smile to be his girl forever, you knew what kind of relationship it was bound to be.
to this day, it didn’t matter if he had important phone calls, intricate things to study up on, or confidential documents to overlook and analyze. one thing for certain was that he would always do any and all of it wherever you were if he could.
ten minutes go by before he’s finally sitting up and removing the earbuds from his ears and the whole headset from around his neck. whatever work he had been click-clacking away at for the last two hours after taking a shower and having dinner was disregarded when he shuts the screen of his laptop and turned to look up at you holding the cute wolf plushie he’d won for you a couple months back.
“everything okay?” you ask him softly as he faces you completely, reaching out to gently rake your fingernails through the soft and now fully dried hair right behind his ear.
getting to watch that handsome face of his fall completely relaxed and content was truly a sacred experience. his immediate submission is something you frequently tease him for when compared to his cocky demeanor, but you both knew you’d never hear the end of it should you stop for any reason.
“yeah, it’s all good. random brunch for the third time this month over the weekend. you up for it? by all means, say no if you prefer to just chill with the love of your life or whatever.”
“you and your family are just too cute. once again, i’m reminded where you get all that audacity from.”
valko grins at the giggle you can’t contain, continuing to explore the softness of your skin as you both doted on the other silently. settling between your legs while he sits on the floor was on the top of his list of his preferred kind of intimacy. “but you know i’m down if you are. i go where you go. i mean duhhh, that’s how we always move. like a pack, right?”
he leans deeper into your touch, eyes nearly falling shut completely from the euphoria he gets out of the way you love on him with one of the things he classifies as a guilty pleasure. truthfully, he wasn’t secretive about such an obsession at all, but what was known didn’t always need to be said out loud. unless used against him, of course.
“didn’t even give you any info on it yet and you’re already so eager to follow me like a good little pup, huh?”
“oh, i’m the eager one?” the protest ready to fall from his lips is first expressed in the pinch of his brows when your hand slips away from the stimulation being given to one of his favorite spots. his expressions had the tendency to give away any thoughts before he could say a word. it’s why he always says you read him better than any book he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“what the fuc—”
“watch it,” you warn playfully. whatever was to be said is swallowed down when the pads of your fingertips begin tracing the defined outline of his jawline before resting on the underside of his chin. “so quick to start with me. aren’t you supposed to be my good boy?”
valko takes your lighthearted taunting as a challenge, grasping you by the wrist and bringing it up to his nose to inhale your addictive scent and the faint aroma of your perfume.
“aren’t i always?”
“you have your moments. i’ve gotta say though, obedience looks super sexy on you.”
“hm. i bet it does.” his grin brings out the subtle dimples in his cheeks. “is it my turn to make a move now?”
he’s pulling you off the couch and on top of him before you’re capable of offering a response to his vague request. the two of you are caught in a laughing fit all the way down until his back hits the plush rug and you’re settled in his lap.
the chuckles are interrupted when you feel his not-so-little friend prodding at you for some kind of attention.
“oh, you perv.”
“perv? that’s not a nice thing to say to the man of your dreams, now is it?” he’s slipping his hands beneath your shorts as his palms slide up the outside of your thighs. “i just consider this instinctual. others would say natural. can’t blame me for what i can’t control.”
the heaviness of his hardening cock pressing into you from below had a steadily increasing heartbeat thumping in your panties. from the soft look he sports with his glasses, the oversized red sweater you got him last christmas, and the dark gray sweats doing nothing to conceal what you were quickly becoming unashamedly desperate for, no way were you getting off of him without some kind of relief.
valko watches you closely as you raise said sweater to sit below his chin, revealing the big, strong, and sculpted body that you’ve fallen helplessly head over heels for. he was hard where you were soft, and it was opposites like that that made you fit so well.
“would you look at that. and i’m the one being labeled a pervert. baby, i think we’re mixing things up.”
“can’t i admire my boyfriend? isn’t this natural?”
it’s almost like his eyes shine when you use his own words against him.
“‘course you can. in fact, you better. but…” he sniffs up at the air four times, a smug grin taking over his lips. “i’m sensing that admiration isn’t the only thing you’ve got planned in that big head of yours.”
“fuck off,” you laugh, pinching his nose. “and don’t act so tough.”
with one slow upward motion of your hips, the thickness pulsing against you seems to swell even bigger than before. his teeth tuck his bottom lip into his mouth from the sensation and his hold on your hips deepens, nails biting deliciously at your flesh. “admiration isn’t enough for you anyways.”
your lips fall to his quickly, tongues battling for a dominance you know he’d fight tooth and nail to be the one to conquer. but he throughly enjoys a biting prey and it’s why he loves you.
his hands are sliding out the fabric of your sleepwear to find purchase on other parts of your body the more heated your sensual exchange becomes. as he licks at the roof of your mouth and tries his hardest to devour you whole, you’re embraced by his large hands grabbing at you like the greedy beast he’s proud to be.
it’s when he makes his way back to your hips that you both know this wouldn’t last long. and when he starts to frantically guide you to grind against him faster, holding you down to feel him through the few layers of clothes that’s causing separation, instinctively you knew that it was in your best interest to prepare yourself for the more he was going to give soon after this.
“you’re not… hah—wearing underwear…” you breathe against his mouth glistening with your shared saliva. you’re quick to take off his glasses from the growing frustration of them getting in your way of being closer, discarding them towards the plush cushions with fingers crossed for a safe landing.
“aren’t you smart.” the teasing inflection in his tone and the deepness of his voice has your cunt throbbing to the point of growing uncomfortable.
your clit continues to ache the more you move with him, nipples grazing underneath your top and begging to be sucked into his mouth.
“sit up,” he says breathlessly with another sloppy kiss to your partially swollen lips.
he keeps you moving on his cock as you rise, lustful gaze focused on the way your shorts ride up your thighs and cling to your pussy from how taut he’s got them pulled to increase the friction. the outline of his dick moving against it back and forth, trying its best to nestle in between—the visual alone has him bucking up and trying to make that a reality.
valko’s hands slide up the sides of your torso and his thumbs delicately play with your peaked nipples beneath your t-shirt.
“val,” you whine, resting your hand on his chest to keep you steady as you try your hardest to not lose your shit from the sensitivity taking over everywhere. “w-want it inside. want it so bad…”
“you open that pretty mouth for everything else.” he flicks them this time to make you tense and for tears to damn near overfill both your waterlines. “should’ve just said how much you wanted to be fucked way sooner, pup. saves us so much time.”
but you can’t wait for that now, not when you’re so close. the lone idea of stopping was aggravating enough.
your head falls back from the insatiable manner in which you chase your high, using his body to the highest degree to help get you there.
“you smell so sweet,” he coos through a husky moan. “mm. you’ll let me taste it later? it’s not good to be stingy.”
“right t-there,” you mewl, pressing your lips together before your vision practically blurs and and has you seeing dots. your orgasm is cataclysmic, and valko keeps your momentum going despite the clear overstimulation you’re experiencing. hearing you sing for him like this and watching you fall apart was worth your little hits of retaliation later.
he’s not far behind you either, thick spurts of sticky cum making a complete mess in his pants soon after you cave and quickly seeps through the material to add to the wet spot in between your legs.
both of you sit breathless with the sound of your forgotten movie still playing and being the only thing to fill the silence.
“you can taste it if i can taste you, too.”
“a deal?” he raises an eyebrow as if he’s open to negations. “other than the obvious, what’s really in it for me?”
of course he never misses an opportunity to play coy.
“keep making me feel good…” your thumb swipes along his bottom lip. “and maybe you’ll find out. or are you too scared?”
you sure were bold to offer up another challenge like this. and he could show you better than he could promise that this time, he wouldn’t go easy.
a/n: ofc i haaaddd to write about that picture. i’m so obsessed with it. like i was genuinely imagining this…. i almost felt it—AND, i know we can’t really tell if he’s ooc or not but if you think he’s ooc… DON’T TELL ME!!!!!!! valko baby, you’re ALIVE over here. they can’t take you from me. i hope you enjoyed, my cuties. MWAH MWAH!!!
okay we’re gonna get a bit fucked up with this…… choose your adventure mentally, realcest or fauxcest
uncle!jack abbot x female reader, jack is a perv 💕, 1.6k words (keeping it clear. this is FICTION and a way that i explore my own trauma. mdni and don’t like, don’t read! thanks!
jack had tried. he really had. he had tried not to look at you that way. he’d made an effort not to be alone with you too long, to keep conversations brief. he mentally hit himself whenever he caught himself staring at your legs at barbecues and family gatherings.
“do not picture her bent over. do not picture her naked. do not picture her in the bath or the pool or near any body of water. do not picture her lips around your cock. do not picture— you asshole, she’s your niece.” the mantra he kept repeating to himself. over and over till the information felt like it was seeping out of his skull and onto the floor. you’d felt it, the great shift. no more uncle jack ruffling your hair or picking you up or calling you baby.
but now, your parents are hosting a pool party to celebrate your eighteenth birthday. you’re in an outrageous gingham bikini. seriously, if you were his daughter, he’d never allow this. he knows how men are. how they’d look at you. how he looks at you.
he brought a gift, of course. it’d be rude not to. he went to sephora and picked up a few glosses. then he kicked himself because he started picturing you applying it, which led to him picturing you kissing him, which led to— “uncle jackie!” you call out “get in the pool!”
he laughs, trying to cover up the fact that he absolutely could not go in the pool with you. not without getting arrested, that is. he waves a hand. “i’m good where i am, kiddo. trust me, you don’t wanna see this old man without his shirt.” fuck. he made it weird. why did he have to make it weird?
you frown and lift yourself up on the ledge of the pool, breaking into a sprint to hug him. he glances down. do not look at her tits, you dirty old man. do not do it. he does anyways. he couldn’t help. the sheen from the pool and sun making you all the more inviting, what it would be like to bury his face in….
you slam into him, desperate for the easy affection he used to provide you with. he wraps an arm around you, kissing your head. “eighteen, huh? i remember when you were just born, all tiny and pink. now you’re an adult. jesus. i’m getting old.” he taps your cheeks. “remember you when you were still potty training. you had this guilty little look whenever you told anyone you had an accident. just the cutest.” you wrinkle your nose. “can we not talk about” you whisper “potty training.” he raises his hands. “sorry, kiddo. just remembering how full my sister’s hands were with you.”
your eyes dart hungrily to the sephora bag. “that for me?” he furrows his brows, scratches his head in deep concentration. “damn… i thought i bought lip glosses for myself.” you giggle. uncle jack is so funny! you press into him again and stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “thank you, uncle jackie.” he takes a deep breath in. do not get hard. do not get hard. do not get hard because the girl you’ve known since before she was born kissed your cheek, you fucking pervert! you are a physician, a veteran, goddamnit. you can keep your cool.
you grab the bag out of his hand, and whip your head around. your mom calls. “shower and put on your dress, hon. we’ll take pictures and cut the cake when you’re out.” you pout, but know better than to pick a fight with your mom, on your birthday, no less. you run off, kiss your mom on the cheek, and head into the house.
jack sits at a table with your mother. she pulls out her phone, scrolling to a picture from exactly eighteen years ago today. jack holding you as a newborn. she tears up. “can you believe it, jack? my baby girl? a woman?” oh, he can believe it. he believes it so hard that if his sister knew how much he believes it, she’d have his head on a spike, rightfully so. he shakes his head, throat growing dry. “she’s still a little girl,” he says, trying to convince himself “’s not like eighteen changes anything.” she dabs at her eyes, then checks the time. “thirty minutes… jack, go up to her room and try to rush her out, i’ll take out the cake.”
he does not groan. that would look weird, right? he’s not about to look weird. he’s been in your room countless times. he raps on the door. the water is still running. he should leave. should tell his sister that you’re still in the shower and that he’ll check again in ten minutes. he does not. he sits on your loveshackfancy bedspread. he remembers your mom decorating this room years ago. god. his niece.
the water shuts off five minutes later. he should announce himself. should call out that he’s here. should say “get yourself decent, kid.” he does not.
you exit your bathroom, fully bare, save for the towel on your head. he expects you to scream, to freak out, to hit him. instead, you just tilt your head. fuck. he’s hard. “uncle jackie? why… are you in my room?” he rubs his greying facial hair, looking down. “your mom wanted me to get you for cake.”
you shift from side to side. “why aren’t you looking at me, jackie?” his voice goes rough. “uncle jackie.” he corrects. his brow raises as you make no effort to cover up. “i should go—” your hand darts out, grabbing his wrist. “stay. i’ve missed you.” you frown. he chuckles. “kid, there’s better ways to catch up that don’t involve you being naked in front of your uncle. you’re not a little girl anymore, don’t know if you realize, but it’s a little inappropriate.”
you pout. “you never hang out with me anymore… did i do something bad?” he stares at the floor intently, desperate for you not to notice the hard on in his shorts. “nah, kid. nothing you need to worry your pretty head about. i’ve just been busy.”
jack tries not to look as you bend and take the towel off of your head, water dripping down onto the hardwood floor. you sit on his lap. he sucks in a breath. “jesus, baby. this is so not okay.”
you wriggle over his erection. jack throws his head back. “honey. i’m your uncle. you can’t be doing this.” you press your face into his neck. “just want you to like me again…” he barks out a laugh. “you’re gonna make me more than like you if you keep that up.” your face lights up like a child, which, to be fair, you were less than 24 hours ago. you wriggle around even more. he sucks in a breath. “christ. where’d you learn how to do that?” your face brightens. “my friend told me this is how you make guys like you.” his jaw tightens. “never tried it before?” you curl into him further, rocking your hips over his clothes. “nope!” you pop the p “just you, uncle jackie.”
it is at that point that jack throws the last remaining shred of his morals to the wind. his hands comes down on your ass. “you know what’s even better at making guys like you?” you shake your head. “let uncle jackie show you. but it’s just for us, mkay? just uncle jackie and his sweet girl’s secret.”
you grin as he pushes you back on your bed. he curses internally. who knows how long you two have before your mom gets fed up and comes searching herself. “you’ll like me so much after this?” jack sighs, unbuckling his pants. “i’ll like you the most, princess.” he crawls over you on duvet. he hasn’t taken off his shirt, polo still fully on. he presses his lips to yours, shoving his tongue in roughly. “that’s how grown ups kiss. and you’re a grown up now, aren’t you?” you whimper. it feels strange. but uncle jackie promised to like you the most after this!
jack presses a kiss to your forehead. “now,” he strokes your cheek, “this may pinch a bit. i’m gonna cover your mouth so no one finds out we’re having so much fun without them.” you nod. that makes sense. besides, uncle jackie is a doctor. he wouldn’t do anything that would damage you. his hand clasps firmly over your mouth as he slides into you, all the way to the hilt. he does not stop as you whine and cry into his hand. his voice lowers. “i know, i know, bunny. that was a biiiig stretch, huh? but you’re so brave, yes you are. uncle jackie’s got you.”
you cling onto him, trying to kiss him as he pummels your cunt. you whine softly into his palm. he silences you with a kiss to your forehead. “so good, baby. making uncle jackie like you so much. you’re the best girl ever.” you wriggle under his grasp. “even better than your wife?” his hips stutter. his dead wife. and here he is, fucking his barely legal niece. the guilt barely lasts a second. “much better. you just wanna make me happy, right?” you nod fervently, close, though you do not know it yet. you squeeze around him, causing his head to fall over. he thrusts, over and over and over again, until you are dripping and full with his cum. he starts to soften inside you, pressing another kiss to your head.
smutty blurb request for agegap robby where he likes to end the day with you riding his thigh/dry humping until you make a mess on his lap so he can clean you up before bed? 😵💫
blurb requests are open — ♡
oh sweet nonnie...... this was so much fun to write omfg.
quick warning: excessive daddy kink and indulgent uses of petnames!
robby likes to think he's doing better now, finding new routines to have a healthier work-life balance. he doesn't stay later than his alotted shift and he's got something else to help him destress once he gets home.
you.
"fuck, daddy—!" you squeal as your legs slot around his thigh, your panty-clad clit rubbing against the firm muscle beneath you. robby grunts as you push his shoulders back against the headboard from your eagerness. you're like a bunny on his lap, young and overeager in the way you chase your pleasure like this.
"feels good, princess?"
his tone is condescending, dark eyes glimmering with poorly-hidden lust behind his readers, as his large hands grope your perky ass to guide your squirming hips. his own cock is stiff, pressing against his thigh, but he ignores it in favor of the way your tits bounce in the white negligee you have on.
"mhm, so so good," you mewl and one hand leaves your ass to grope your tits instead, greedy in the way he skims a thumb along your nipple before it travels up your neck to hold your jaw. a self-satisfied moan escapes you, leaning into his palm before he's pulling you in to swallow each sweet noise with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.
"yeah?" he murmurs against your mouth, gasping into his while he finally slides down a hand to rub your clit with a merciless precision that has you cumming hard in your panties and on his lap. "made a mess, baby."
"sorry, daddy," you whimper but he tsks gently, shushing you again with feather-light kisses along your cheek and jaw. he lays you onto your back before he settles between your legs, pushing the lacy fabric up your chest just for his own sick viewing.
"s'alright, darling, just let me see the mess you made, hm?" his voice is velvet across gravel, pushing your inner thighs apart to see the sopping fabric that greets him. he kisses your clit through the cotton panties, your hips jolting upwards from the sensitivity. "nuh-uh, stay still. how can i clean you up if you keep moving, baby?"
you offer another pathetic apology but it falls on deaf ears when robby makes a home of his face between your legs, his beard rasping deliciously against your slick inner thighs when he tugs your panties aside to lick up the sides of your lips to capture the slick with his tongue. his large hands brace along your inner thighs, the fabric of your panties hooked into one finger to keep them in place so he can delve the tip of his tongue through your folds.
"daddy—!" you gasp as you squirm and wriggle but his arms are steel, keeping you in place against the mattress. it leaves you in the mercy of his tongue, his scruffy mouth determined to lick and lave every drop you've left behind. the low grunts coming from him are muffled but doesn't lessen the obvious enthusiasm he has for eating you out.
"love your fuckin' pussy, sweetheart, so so sweet for me," he mutters, pussy-drunk now as he leans his cheek against your thigh, his calloused fingertips dragging your labia aside to stare at your cunt with the same lovesick expression he holds for you. "look at her, so fucking pretty..."
"ngh, daddy..." you whine as he gives your cunt another slow drag, purposely missing your entrance to spoil your clit with attention. your toes curl as it skyrockets you into your second orgasm of the night but robby doesn't stop, spreading your folds so he can capture every bit of your cum.
when he pulls away, utterly satisfied, his beard is damp with your slick and his readers a tad bit crooked on his nose. "all clean, princess. time for bed, hm?"
I'm an empath🧘 and I feel kinda bad because I feel like r wants Jack more than she wants Robby (ik it's not like thag but yk) so can you write something about idk r doing something good without being ask (shocking) and Robby finally going soft with her, please?<3
— 🎭.
michael robinavitch x female reader, robby is dad, jack is daddy, cw: fauxcest, part of dadbfs!rabbot, but really just robby in this
you shock robby on a normal tuesday night.
that’s the part that gets him.
jack had already been gone for two hours on shift. he’d kissed your face, clapped robby on the back, and said “be good for dad, angel.”
robby had rolled his eyes. he loved you. god, he did. but there was no way you were going to be good. that’s okay. he’s accepted this. he’s not really in the punishing mood tonight, and crosses his fingers you don’t break too huge of a rule and force him to discipline you.
but you’ve been shockingly good. you didn’t complain at dinner. you sat on his lap, asked about his day, talked about a book you were reading. he checked your homework with a pit in his stomach, but found everything in order. when bedtime rolls around, he’s certain he’ll get some resistance. a whiny “but i’ve been so good,” at least. nothing. you let him lead you up to bed, brush your teeth, and run your bath.
he sits on the chair beside your bathtub, because he always insists on it. he’s not going to let his kid drown, no matter how bratty you may or may not have been. you play quietly with the bath toys until he speaks. “not to jinx it,” he smiles “but you’ve been really sweet tonight.”
you hum, swirling around a pink duck. “didn’t wanna make you mad. you looked sad when you came in.” his heart gives a stupid little pang. he did have an awful day. someone died. it was stupid and preventable and he had practically begged the family to take the treatment they were offering. if he was in a meaner mood, he probably would’ve sneered. would’ve said something like, “oh, you think you can manage your dad’s moods now? is that it?” but he just smiles sadly, reaches over into the tub, and pets your hair. “that’s very nice of you, baby. thank you.”
you blush, squirming in the tub, bathwater sloshing around you. dad doesn’t normally call you baby, unless it’s combined with a faux coo of “poor baby” while he punishes you. “didn’t wanna be trouble…” robby is rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt now, long fingers flexing. “oh, you’ve been so, so good. let dad take care of you now.” he grabs your arm, pulls you up, and turns you around. digits quickly find your pussy. “aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the world?”
his voice has gone syrupy and soft. it’s not like robby normally. given, you don’t often give him the chance to be this nice. you gasp as two fingers press into you. “dad… feels good.” you can hear the smile in robby’s voice, still gentle and low. “yeah, dad wants to make you feel good, baby. lemme make my sweet girl feel all happy.”
he speeds up his motions when he feels you getting close around his fingers. your legs shake and he’s standing over you now, and arm around your waist to keep you from falling, still working you. “just what dad needs after a long, hard day. should be like this more often. ‘s not like i want to be punishing you all the time.”
you whine softly. “please—” robby goes deeper than before. you’re finished. through. you soak his hand and start to tear up. he quickly picks you up, wraps you in a towel, and carries you to your bed. “so warm and soft. my sweet baby.”
normally, after a bath, robby is quick with drying your hair and getting you to sleep. but he climbs in the bed with you now, pulling you against him, face to face. his beard brushes against your skin as he kisses your shoulder. you shiver, and his arms tighten. “can dad give you special cuddles now, kiddo?” your heart flutters again. he doesn’t ask to fuck you. normally he just pushes into you, smacking you around a little if you dare to protest.
you nod, and feel him, thick and hard, entering into you. his face drops to the top of your head, as if his strings have been cut. “love you so much, kid. y’know that?” you nod fervently as he ruts into you, your face pressed into his neck. he mumbles. “love you just as much as daddy does. just scared you’ll get hurt. ‘s why i’m so strict.” you squirm as your orgasm comes on. he holds you tighter. “love you too, dad.”
he cums with a groan, muffled by your hair. he stays there for a few moments, then withdraws. he kisses your head. “sweet dreams, baby.” your eyes are already shut.
do you think robby would like tongue sucking 😵💫😵💫
ughhhh yessss 😵💫😵💫 especially with like the cute young resident who’s wayyy to sweet for her own good, likes how kinda gross the act is in contrast to how sweet she is 🙂↕️🙂↕️
older neighbour!robby who gets worried about you when you’re home alone, so he knocks on your door, bowl of popcorn in one hand and two glass bottles of coca cola in the other. you obviously invite him in, both of you settling down on your couch to watch a movie—your choice of course, because there’s no way he would choose legally blonde as a movie to watch on a saturday night.
he doesn’t overstep, just wants to make sure you’re safe while you live alone. when he leaves at the end of the night, he gives you his number, letting you know that if you ever need anything, he’s only a phone call away. you smile and thank him, watching as he crosses the patch of grass between your houses and enters into his own house. you’re totally giddy and you immediately call your best friend and tell her all about him.
“he’s like.. a bit older, but he’s so hot and he’s super nice..”
“you sure he’s not perving on you?”
“absolutely not, we watched legally blonde and shared some popcorn.. just made small talk, that was it..”
“okayyyyy.. well maybe he might like you.. flirt with him a little.. plus, you said he was a doctor right.. think of the money!”
“oh shit, you’re right.. oh my god..”
you talked with her some more before you yawned and called it a night. you made your way back downstairs to clear up the popcorn and the bottles, when you noticed his grey jacket slung over the arm of the couch. picking it up, you headed out your front door and looked over at his house, there was no light on so you figured he had gone to sleep and you would just take the jacket back over tomorrow. you walked upstairs to your bedroom, throwing it at the end of your bed before going into your ensuite, brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed—and as soon as your body hit the mattress, you were out like a light.
a loud knock at your front door jolted you awake as you turned to look at your alarm clock—6:35am. you groaned and grabbed the jacket laying on your bed, before slipping it on, forgetting that it wasn’t actually yours. you grumbled as you made your way to the front door, swinging it open ready to complain about whoever decided to wake you at this ungodly hour of the morning. but then you were met with robby, the very man who’s jacket you were currently wearing.
“morning.. i was about to ask if i had left my jacket here last night, but.. i can see that i did..”
“what? oh.. oh.. sorry… shit, here you go..” you mumbled out your words, frantically taking off his jacket and handing it to him—suddenly feeling slightly cold. you looked down and realised you were dressed in barely any clothing. robby’s mouth fell slightly agape, before he coughed and swallowed thickly.
“i.. uhm.. thanks.. i.. yeah, thanks..”
“your uhm.. your welcome..”
robby nodded at you, turning to step away before you stepped out your front door, grabbing his arm. he turned back to you, cheeks slightly flushed red as he stared into your eyes.
“do you.. uhm.. do you wanna come over again tonight? after work? your choice of movie this time?”
robby hesitates for a second, knowing he’ll have to leave early again since he has work early in the morning tomorrow—but when he got home last night, it’s been the first night in a while that he felt lighter, happier, calmer. you would laugh at funny parts of the movie and he could feel his heart lurch every time he heard that sweet noise coming out your mouth—and now he’s sure he wants nothing more than to hear you laugh all the time, his face buried in your neck as his beard tickles your skin, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles. he knows you’re like half his age but he’s never been more sure that you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with—he doesn’t really believe in soulmates, but he’s starting to believe you might be his. so, he smiles at you, pulls his arm slightly back until his hand is now in yours, squeezing slightly when he speaks.
“popcorn and two bottles of cola?”
you smile back at him, before leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a small kiss to his cheek, watching his cheeks flush red again.
ughhh robby taking you back to his place when you get wasted at the staff night out, he helps you into bed, gets you undressed and into an old shirt and some boxers of his. he grabs a water bottle and couple of painkillers and puts them on the nightstand for if you need them.
he’s about to go downstairs to sleep on the couch when he hears you sniffle. “r-robby?”
he stops in his tracks and turns to see you sitting up, tears rolling down your cheeks so he goes to you, sitting on the bed beside you.
“hey, hey. you’re okay. come ‘ere..” he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair with his other hand.
“what’s up, sweetheart? what’s all this?” he coos, wiping the tears from your cheeks.
you just shrug, truthfully you don’t know what’s wrong with you, nothing had happened you just felt a little emotional but what you do know is you don’t want to be alone.
“robby, c-can you stay with me?” you look up at him, eyes all big and wet. how could he possibly say no?
“of course i can. shh, i’m here now.” he lies the two of you down, manoeuvring your bodies so you’re lying under the covers with your head on his chest and that’s how you stay all night.
summary: in which the lads boys are a little bit, kinda sorta, slightly jealous.
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb (and a special guest!)
notes: basically just fluff, minor allusions to drinking/partying but not explicitly mentioned so it’s up to your interpretation! they’re all a little sinister + evil + concerned…what can i say. that’s it (i think).
p.s. GUESS WHOOOOOOOOOO
a/n: valko i plan to Eat you soon…ty for reading (- -)(_ _)
summary: jack abbot is a big fan of calling people pet names. it drives you nuts.
pairing: jack abbot x resident!reader
tags: afab reader, pet names [sweetheart, best girl], jack abbot being a cocky flirt, r has a huge crush on him
word count: 0.9k
notes: for all of those that were victims of workplace crushes <3
Doctors are not nice. Never have been, never will be. Even your professors in medical school had been made of stone, steel-faced and stubborn, refusing to let even a slight slipup happen without any consequence. It was excusable, the behavior of doctors, due to what they saw everyday and what they held in their hands. You have felt yourself becoming thicker-skinned as you’ve spent your years inside of the emergency department, an unmovable object in the unfair windstorm of life.
But Jack Abbot is not mean. He is not unfair or harsh. He is empathetic and gentle despite the consistent pressure always put on his shoulders. It’s jarring, compared to all of your other mentors. Dr. Robby, who will scold you until his face turns red beneath that beard and scruff, or the residents that have inherited their attitudes from him.
It’s only human nature, the fact that you find yourself so drawn to Abbot. Beneath the cool demeanor you keep, you’re just a being of nerves and flesh and blood and synapses, all willing to work on their own without your help. The drastic difference between how others treated those beneath them and Abbot was enough to get your stomach churning and heart racing, as much as you passed it off as a stupid workplace crush.
The worst part was that he couldn’t keep his nicknames to himself.
“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks as he steps beside you, a respectful amount of inches away as he glances at the patient board you’ve been so adamantly focused on for the past few minutes. “You’ve been standing here for a while.”
The name settles deep in your gut, an uncomfortable feeling that makes you fidgety. Your thumb drums against the counter as you pass the most nonchalant look you can summon over at him, lips pulling into a tight smile. “Fine. Just dozed off a little bit.”
Jack’s gaze travels over you like he’s trying to find something physically wrong, taking in the way you jut out your hips to take some pressure off of your back. He reaches out to press his hand into the small of your back, nudging you to sit up straight again. “Go take a break. Sit down and rest your feet for a moment, get a snack and a cup of coffee, come back your best self.”
“No, Dr. Abbot, really,” you argue. A hand raises defensively while the other gestures to the bustling hallways of the emergency room. “I have a few patients I need to check on and another couple that need to be discharged ‘cause they’ve already been here all night.”
Despite your protests, your attending simply crosses his arms over his chest and stares you down. “I’ll check with Lena and handle all of that.”
Immediately, the two of you end up in a staring contest. You with parted lips and a complaint hanging on the tip of your tongue and Jack with a clench of his jaw and a flex of muscle in his bicep. Finally, your shoulders drop in defeat, causing your attending’s face to relax in victory. “Go on, then,” he coaxes.
With a childish huff, you spin on your heel, irritation prickling up your spine. Who did Jack Abbot think he was, telling you when you needed to take a break? When was the last time he had taken a break? Sat down? Ate a snack in the middle of a busy night shift?
His cocky face is imprinted in your mind as you burst into the break room, sitting down on one of the chairs so abruptly that it screeches against the linoleum. You’re pouting, and deathly aware of it, but in the closed room of the breakroom there is no judgement to be cast and so you allow yourself to be grumpy about being sidelined.
Stupid Jack Abbot and his stupid nicknames and his stupid empathy for every little thing.
After approximately fifteen minutes of staring at the wall and allowing your brain to shut off for the first time all night, the door to the breakroom creaks open slowly, bringing in a wave of noise until it shuts again.
“How’s my favorite girl?” Jack asks, bracing his hand on the back of an unoccupied chair. “Do you feel better?”
There it is, that foolish gut feeling again the minute that sweet timbre hits your ears. You’ve never been one to crave praise, or even be flustered by it, however it was infuriatingly different when it came from your extremely handsome attending.
You prop your elbow up on the table, placing your chin in the palm of your hand and giving him your best bored look. “Dying of boredom from being sidelined,” you grump.
He just chuckles at your antics, reaching over to grab your wrist. In response, you lift your head so that he can place your hand down, breaking down your grumpy exterior physically. “You weren’t sidelined, you were told to take a break, there is a difference.” His hand lands on the top of your head, fingertips scrunching your hair and loosening it from your ponytail.
With an irritated grunt, you swat away his hand. “I don’t see you tellin’ anyone else to take a break.” You scrunch your nose at him mockingly, leaning back in your chair to look up at him.
Jack is the picture of amused, reaching out to pinch your chin playfully. “I don’t worry about anyone else that much,” he replies.
Finally, he pats your cheek gently with just his fingertips. “C’mon, sweetheart. Stop pouting and get out there.” With that, he turns and exits the breakroom, leaving you to gape at the door while trying to find a way to steady your own tachycardia.
How were you supposed to treat patients when Jack Abbot was so tempted to make you one?
summary — the first rule of sleeping with your attending was to make sure it meant nothing. you’d been very good at that right up until you weren’t.
warnings — 8.1k words. 18+ Minors DNI!! (explicit sexual content, oral [m! recieving], unprotected p in v, power imbalance [attending/resident], friends with benefits dynamics, mild dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, a lot of talking during sex, can be read as slightly coercive maybe?), hurt/comfort, commitment issues, fear of emotional intimacy, lightly implied widower undertones, age gap (jack’s 50/reader’s a resident, implied to be late twenties), jack jokes about paying for sex, alcohol
notes — this one started light in the beginning and ended pretty heavy like idk where all that came from i wrote the first half when i was in a better mood and finished it when i got this request and i guess i was just feeling like i wanted to make it hurt even more
Jack Abbot came with his perks. He’d taken you under his wing when you first joined the PTMC as a second-year-resident, and somewhere over the space of a year, he’d taken you to his bed. You’d built him as a man who lived in a sad bachelor pad with the way he’d taken you to his house after a shitty shift; no preamble, just a jerk of his head toward the parking garage and a raspy ‘come on’ that you’d followed like he was still your attending after-hours.
And fuck, you couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel slightly good to see a floor-to-ceiling windowed penthouse and drink something amber and expensive after you’d spent the last few years of your life not seeing the other end of what your work could bring you. It was grim and improper, you knew, fucking your attending in the early hours of the morning before the sun fully rose, but you knew it was coming; half the ED had placed bets on it and Cassie and Javadi were yet to know they were right.
He’d taken you against the window the first time.
“You afraid of heights?” he’d asked, and the question moved through you like warm liquid rather than reached you. You’d shaken your head, or tried to. “No,” he’d murmured, your jaw in his hands. “Didn’t think so.”
He’d taken his prosthetic off after, wryly claiming that the position felt good but the leg disagreed. That had somehow lead to another round, slower the second time with him on his back and you set over him.
A part of you wondered often the sort of impression you’d given Jack, what he’d seen, exactly, that made him sure he could have you like this and keep it weightless. Whatever it was, it had to have been right to some degree because you’d spent more nights in his penthouse than your own apartment for the past six months without ever calling it anymore than what it was.
He was a better lay than you’d ever had. He was probably the best option around to get steam off while you worked your way through residency. It helped that he was your attending and you shared the same strange hours.
You kept the books carefully and columns balanced. Sex, sleep, the occasional terrible four a.m. meal that didn’t count because eating was maintenance, not intimacy. You never stayed for coffee — you took it to go — and you didn’t learn his middle name on purpose. You’d never seen the inside of his closet. You left before you could risk having to go to work together. A woman in trouble would linger, and you did not linger. Therefore.
But the stupid books had started running a quiet deficit you hadn’t accounted for. You knew exactly how he took his coffee. The toothbrush in the second drawer that you reached for now without looking, muscle memory in a place you’d sworn was temporary.
And even though you could admit that Jack knew his way around you and never made you ask twice for anything in that bed, that wasn’t the line item that worried you. Bodies learned bodies. It was that you’d stopped taking your coffee to go some mornings without ever noticing the change; you’d sit at his counter with a mug that was somehow yours now, and drank it there while he read something on his phone and never told you to leave. You’d started to become a woman that lingered, and even worse, one who liked to do so.
And that had to stop, because Jack had told you point-blank what this was on the first night while you were still putting on your shirt with his mouth print blooming under the fabric.
This doesn’t have to be a thing. I’m not looking to make it one. Is that alright?
He’d said the words while putting on his briefs, and you’d agreed too fast, because at that time, it had cost you nothing. You’d wanted a body and a break, and he was offering both. He’d been more honest than any man you’d let touch you. He’d told you the terms up front and never moved them.
So, you simply had to put yourself out of the arrangement.
Jack found you by your car in the parking garage. He’d put on his coat a heavy thing that should’ve swallowed him but instead he was able to fill out almost perfectly.
“Jack,” you said, trying to find an even voice as he closed the distance between you. Before he could even ask, you forced out, “I’m not going home with you.”
His brows furrowed and he looked confused. For good reason, you supposed. Friday mornings had become sort of a usual for you, the easiest compensation in your life for missing Friday nights.
“You good?” He stepped close and tipped his head, and you watched him give you a complete once-over, eyes dropping to your hands and the set of your shoulders like you were a patient. “You looked a little out of it today. Come — I’ll make you soup.”
You pinched your eyes shut at his words. “What’s that even supposed to mean — I was fine.”
“Don’t take it personal,” he said. “Come on, soup.”
“Seriously, I was fine.” You were almost offended now, which was clearly his intent, the bastard. “I’ve been awake for nineteen hours, I’m not sick —” You caught yourself getting pulled into it, defending your honor, exactly the kind of dumb circular thing you’d let him rope you into a hundred times because arguing with Jack was sometimes fun. You shut it down. “I’m not going home with you,” you said again, this time with a sharper edge.
He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest, giving you another once-over as he recaliberated the situation in real time. “Did I upset you?”
“No, it’s not a fight,” you said fast. You dragged a hand down your face. “I’m not mad at you, Jack. I’m done with this. The whole — all of it.”
He tipped his chin down when you gestured vaguely with your finger between the two of you, at the whole abstract nature of you. Then, he said, “You’re calling it?”
“Yeah, very much,” you said, voice dropping a register as you leaned against the driver’s side door of your car. Then, when you saw how his brows furrowed and how he looked just slightly caught off-guard, you added, dumbly, “Sorry. I guess.”
He held your eyes a long beat, something working in his mouth, and then closed the last of the distance between you. His hand came up to your jaw, and you felt your face turn to liquid as you involuntarily leaned into it; his thumb dragged slow along your cheekbone and his gaze followed it, and you stood pinned to your own cold car door and let him, because telling him to stop would mean pretending you didn’t want it, and you’d never once been able to sell that lie for either of you.
“You mean it?” he asked, voice rough, and his forehead dropped to yours. When you nodded, he mimicked your movement. “Alright. Then let’s at least end it properly.”
When you showed no urgency to decline, his mouth found yours before you could decide whether you trusted yourself enough to end it properly. One of his hands stayed at your jaw while the other one fitted you back against the cold of the car. He smiled against your mouth, and you used your palm to push him by the chest.
He went back, just slightly, dropping his head to your forehead again. “I’m guessing that’s a yes?”
“One time,” you said quietly, almost in a whisper. “And then I mean it. It won’t change anything.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Last time, then. Make it count.”
Jack was making it obscenely difficult for you to make it count. The rhythm you’d settled into with him at around month two — the one where the two of you skipped the drink and went straight into his bed — had disappeared tonight. He just really needed a drink tonight, and then another, and then he really didn’t want to shut his mouth.
He poured the second one without offering you a top-up and stood at the window instead of coming to you, two fingers of amber catching the lamplight. You watched him and watched him, answering his questions until the two of you finally ended up in the bedroom.
He’d opened his mouth to argue something and you got his belt open instead slowly, and whatever he’d been about to say faded elsewhere. The city sat out past the glass, unblinking, that audience he never drew the blinds against. His hand found your hair, resting with his thumb at your ear, almost gentle and completely fucking distracting.
“Slow,” he murmured when you took him into your mouth, and the word came out scraped down to nothing. His head went back against the headboard. “Fuck.”
You went the opposite of slow; you knew that taking your time with it, acknowledging the last time of it all, would crack something open in your chest you couldn’t afford to have open. You did everything you knew undid him — six months of evidence, a body of proof — fast and certain, and the breath punched out of him and his fingers curled into your hair and the smug, talkative version of him went quiet for about four seconds.
“You — huh — last time. Really?” he managed to say, fingers tightening against your scalp, the blunt fingernails scraping against the skin. You slid your tongue down his length, and he let out a short groan, letting out a wrecked, “Good girl.” His hips lifted a fraction before he caught them, forcing himself still under your hands. “Good — yeah.”
You’d have smiled if your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, so you settled on humming around him. You let yourself think you’d won the quiet, and then his thumb moved against your temple slowly, and he ruined it.
“You really mean it?” he asked quietly, words aimed somewhere at the ceiling. “You’re done?”
You ignored him and kept your rhythm. It wasn’t a question you were going to dignify with him in your mouth and your resolve already pooled somewhere on his bedroom floor.
His hands flexed in your hair at the silence, then tugged, a frustrated little pull that went straight down your spine and that he absolutely felt you react to, because his thumb pressed flat behind your ear like he was talking to your pulse there.
“Don’t go quiet on me,” he said, rasp going uneven, breath catching somewhere between the words, his whole stomach drawn tight. You watched the muscle there jump when you took him deeper as his jaw worked. “You hear me. I know you — shit.”
You’d found the underside with the flat of your tongue you slowly dragged, and the sentence collapsed. His head dropped back and your eyes caught the tendon at his throat standing out. One of his heels dug into the mattress and you felt the tremor run up his thigh under your palm.
You’d have been lying if you said this wouldn’t be missed. Not the talking, but this, the privilege of watching Jack Abbot lose a fight with his own body, a man who controlled every room he stood in coming apart by degrees because of what you were doing. You pressed your thumb into the crease of his hip and felt him shudder. You took him to the back of your throat and swallowed and he said your name that came out of his mouth breaking.
“You’re really gonna — ” He inhaled sharply, hand fisting tighter on your head. “ — gonna do this and walk, you’re — ”
You pulled off of him with a slow, wet, and deeply unflattering sound and sat back on your heels and looked up at him, lips swollen, thoroughly out of patience, your hand still working him just enough that his hips chased it. His eyes were closed, and he let out a large exhale.
“Are you kidding me?”
He cracked an eye open, then shifted his head to the side against the pillow. “What?” he muttered.
“Why won’t you shut up?” You squeezed deliberately and his jaw clenched against the noise that almost got out of him. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Acting like a child,” he huffed, head tipping back. “I’m pretty aged out of the tantrum bracket.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” You dragged your thumb up the length of him slowly. “You’ve been throwing one since we got off.”
His hand left your hair and closed around your wrist instead — the one still working him — stilling it, and then he was pulling with his unarguable strength, drawing you up over him until you had to crawl up his body or be dragged.
You ended up straddling his waist. He stayed flat on his back beneath you, one arm folding behind his head while the other spread warm and heavy over your thigh, and he looked up at you with his chest still heaving and the gray stark at his temples.
“Better,” he muttered. “Neck was startin’ to go, watching you be stubborn down there.” The hand on your thigh slid up slowly, settling at your hip, thumb working a lazy circle into the bone. He tilted his chin up slightly. “What’s this really about?”
You went still because you had too much of an answer, and it was the sort of one that you didn’t believe could survive being said out loud over a man who’d made it clear exactly what this was on day one.
“You know,” you said.
“Maybe. But humor me.” His eyes stayed on your face, looking patient as ever, as the circle of his thumb continued moving. “Thought we had something nice going and now — ” He tilted his head slightly against the pillow. “So, what’s going on up in that pretty little head of yours?”
“I want more than this,” you said plainly. “That’s what’s in my head. I want the whole thing — the relationship and dates and stuff. I think I’ve got enough time to — get into that.”
“Yeah?” he said, voice coming out in a breath His thumb stilled on your hip. He looked up at you and his other hand came up and pushed a piece of your hair back off your cheek.
You had to press your lips together, because you obviously weren’t expecting him to offer, and yet you’d been holding your breath anyway.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
His hand stayed on your cheek a moment longer, the pad of his thumb resting just under your eye. Then his hand dropped back to your hip where it was safe.
“You should,” he said after a moment, swallowing. “Get into that. You’ve got the time.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” His hands flexed at your hip, his hips still beneath yours and the want still humming under all of it. “Not gonna talk you out of one thing you actually deserve. Even I’m not that selfish.” His brows furrowed, like he’d just processed his own words. “Most days.”
His hand left your hip and found your waist, and then he was turning you, guiding you off of him onto the side on the mattress beside him, leaving the two of you laying facing each other in the gold dark. His thigh slid between yours.
This close, you could see everything you usually didn't get to study: the silver threaded through the stubble at his jaw, the small white seam of an old scar through one eyebrow, the way the lines around his eyes weren't from laughing. He had one arm folded under his head and the other draped heavy over your hip, fingers spread at the small of your back, and he just looked at you, the want and the conversation both still hanging in the air between you, neither resolved.
“S’it somebody at work?” he asked. “Has to be. You don’t have time yet to meet anyone who isn’t.”
You shook your head slightly against the pillow, and your brows furrowed together at the idea. “No — no one. I haven’t met anyone yet.”
He huffed. His eyes dropped from yours to somewhere near your collarbone, then came back up.
He turned his face toward the pillow for a second, as if to hide his face from you, then met your eyes again. “You’d rather have no one than me, huh?”
“Wow,” you breathed out in almost a gasp. You pulled back an inch against the pillow to look at him properly. “Now that’s mean, Jack. I can find someone, you know.”
“Yeah?” His brow lifted, scar catching the light. “Course you can.” His hand slid off your hip and down, palming the back of your thigh, drawing your knee up over his. “Always hear someone in the hospital talking about you.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“M’not.” He hitched your leg higher, fitting himself into the space it opened, and you felt the blunt heat of him press where you were already aching for it, rubbing slowly against your folds. “I mean it. It’s about time you got out from this old man.”
“Don’t call yourself that.”
He dragged the length of him through you again, catching you over and over where you wanted him and not giving it. “It’s what I am. Fifty, boring life, no good to you past this.” His mouth ghosted the corner of yours, breath warm and uneven. “You should be out with someone who can give you the whole thing. I’ve already done my time.”
You could do it again, you wanted to say. You could be the whole thing. But the words sat behind your teeth, because you already knew what he’d say and do if you’d said them, and you couldn’t take hearing it kindly. Especially not with him notched against you like this when it was supposed to be the last time.
You let your hand find his jaw instead, the rough of the stubble, the silver, and you watched his eyes flicker at the touch, at how your lips moved from one side to the other as you tried to keep the words down. It seemed like he’d understood whatever you didn’t say.
“Yeah, baby,” he muttered and pressed his thumb to the back of your thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the touch of you. “I know.”
He pushed in then, slow, all the way, mid-breath like it was just the next thing between you. The shudder rolled clean through him as he sank into you, his exhale breaking ragged against your mouth. Your spine arched off the mattress. His arm hooked under the small of your back and dragged you flush, no space left, no air, the two of you pressed chest to chest in the gold hush.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, holding there, buried to the hilt and not moving as he felt you clench around him. “Spoiling me rotten and then telling me you’re leaving.”
“Shut up now — ”
He drew back slow and sank back in deep, and the sound you made came out somewhere against his shoulder. Each roll of his hips pressed you up the sheets. “Get me used to this and then — what? Go hand it to someone who hasn’t earned it.” He laughed brokenly against your throat. “Selfish girl.”
You got a fistful of his hair and pulled, hard enough that his breath stuttered. “Go find — someone else yourself,” you said through your teeth, because opening your mouth seemed like something embarrassing would follow. “You’re not lacking options — ”
“But I like having my cake,” he breathed, and there was almost a laugh under it. “Eating it, too.”
“Gross,” you mumbled against him.
One month was meant to be enough time. Lying awake the first week, you’d assumed it’d take thirty days to unlearn a person. It had worked on the obvious things. You’d stopped reaching for your phone at the end-of-shift and stopped seeking him out by the lockers. You’d slept in your own bed and not found it lacking, mostly. But nobody warned you that being in a car for four hours would call it all into question.
One month of calling him Dr. Abbot across the bay, crisp and so weightless, handing him a chart without your fingers brushing his. You’d gotten good at it. Then Robby floated the conference. Some emergency medicine thing four hours upstate; a block of credits, a hotel with a conference rate, a chance to put PowerPoint slides between yourself and the actual work for two days. Dana volunteered the department van before anyone could think of a reason not to, already half out of her scrubs spiritually, determined to get a few days of being a person instead of a charge nurse.
Like these things usually did, the seating assembled itself, which was to say it was assembled badly. Robby drove while Dana drove shotgun. Trinity somehow won the entire back row. And the middle row was you, Dennis, and Jack.
You in the middle, because the universe worked in fucked-up ways. In this case, the universe was named Dana.
“You’ll fit,” Dana had said, and pressed a duffel of granola bars into your arms like a consolation prize, steering you into the gap between the two men before you could mount a defense.
You fit pressed thigh-to-thigh with Jack Abbot for four hours up interstate, his arm slung along the seatback behind you because there was genuinely nowhere else for a man his size’s arms to put it, the heat of him bleeding through your sleeve like a low fever. You knew that arm. You knew the weight of it, the places where his hand fell when it wasn’t thinking about where it fell. It was a quarter-inch from touching you, which was worse than actually touching you, and you suspected he knew that, too.
The van pulled out of the lot at five in the morning. Dennis had his headphones in before the drive even started. Up front, Dana was already arguing with Robby about the music. Trinity was sprawled in the whole back row to herself, scrolling on her phone.
Thirty minutes into the drive, Jack broke the seal.
“Excited?” he asked, eyes still out the window, profile flat and bored as anything. His voice was pitched low enough that it lived in the space between his mouth and your ear and nowhere else.
You kept your head tipped back against the seat. “More excited about sleeping in a comfortable bed than the conference.”
His brows narrowed as he turned to look at you. “Some Marriot-adjacent mattress? You’re aiming low.”
“It’s horizontal and not on-call. I’m easy to please.”
“Since when?” he drawled, bone-dry, eyes going back to the window. But his thigh had pressed a degree closer against yours, a shift you couldn’t call a thing without admitting you were keeping track. Up-front, Dana won whatever argument she’d been having and something with a heavy bassline filled the van. Jack let the noise ring and leaned half-an-inch closer that nobody would ever catch. “You used to say my sheets were scratchy.”
“For a man with that penthouse, they were scratchy — ”
“Finally,” he breathed out, satisfied, like he’d been fishing for exactly that and reeled it in. Something in his face eased and you hated, a little, how much you wanted to have done that. “I almost forgot you’d been in it.”
God. You hadn’t forgotten anything. That was the whole problem. You knew the place, the cold floor on the way to the bathroom, the exact freckles on his chest up close. You knew he wore a ring you had never once asked about and he’d never once explained, and that you’d both kept your eyes politely off the subject the way you keep your eyes off a wound that wasn’t yours to dress. You knew all of it, and all you could do was keep promising yourself it didn’t count anymore.
“Can we stop at the next exit?” Trinity said from the back. “I need coffee and the bathroom. In that order.”
Dana hummed. “There’s a Sheetz coming up in ten. That good?” She looked through the map on her phone. “Everybody go when we stop. We’re not pulling off twice.”
“Works for me,” Robby said.
Dennis plugged out one of his earphones and glanced over everyone in the car. “We’re stopping?”
“Yup,” Dana confirmed. “Bathroom, snacks, ten minutes, back in the van. Whitaker, you want anything, you decide now.”
Dennis considered, then put his earphone back on, apparently deciding the whole thing was beneath the commitment.
Jack leaned in from beside you, barely. “Single stall in the back of those places, you know?” he said, voice low, barely audible over the music. “There’s a lock on the door and everything.”
You kept your eyes on the windshield in front of you. “Weird thing to know off the top of your head.”
His thigh pressed warm against yours through the curve of an off-ramp that didn’t strictly require it. “How much would it take?” His eyes flickered back out to the window, even as his shoulder now pressed up against yours. “You and me in there. Ten minutes. Name a number.”
“Can’t be bought.” You forced your eyes to the windshield. “Sorry. Not for sale.”
“No?” His voice dipped, amused. “Everybody’s got a price.”
“Not me.” You turned your head and found him already closer than he’d been a second ago. “You really think you could afford me?”
“Could take a run at it.”
“Wouldn’t get far.”
“Fifty,” he said, and you could see the slight grin crawling onto his lips.
You let out a short laugh, then immediately pressed your mouth over your lips before it became any louder. “I don’t get out of bed for fifty dollars, Abbot, let alone on my knees.”
“Oof.” He winced, mock-wounded, dragging a hand over his chest. “Expensive date.”
“It’s never a date with you.”
He bit his lip at that, eyes raking over you, the grin caught behind his teeth. “Right. Hundred, then.”
“I’m gonna report you to HR. You’re my attending.”
“Good luck with filling out the history we have for that.”
You turned to look at him, and let your mouth curl. “You really think I’m the sort of girl to do it in a gas station bathroom?”
You watched the grin go still on his face, watched his eyes drop to your mouth and drag back up, the warmth in them tipping into something darker. “Would you?”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “In your dreams, Jack.”
“Frequently,” he said, not missing a second. “Vividly, too.”
You leaned in enough to feel his breath catch. “Keep dreaming, then. It’s all you’re getting.”
You sat back before he could answer, fingers playing with the seatbelt, sweet as anything.
“Christ.” He dragged a hand down over his jaw, his head tipping back against the seat and looked at you sideways through the gray morning light, and the bit fell off his face. “Missed you.”
Before you could even process the words with his attention on you, because he was who he was, his jaw worked once and looked back out the window, ending it himself before you could, handing the silence back to you to do with it what you pleased.
Your chest squeezed just slightly at that, and you had to be the one to force yourself to look away, catching sight of Dennis’s head bumping against the window as he soundly slept, oblivious, lucky.
At some point past the gas station you lost the fight with your own exhaustion. Nineteen hours of being awake before the drive, and the van was warm, and the bassline had mellowed into something Dana hummed underneath her breath, and the road had gone smooth — almost hypnotic — interstates often did when they’d gone out of the clutches of the city. You’d meant to stay awake. You’d made the small private rule about it, too; you went under anyway, somewhere between a stretch of dead farmland and the next, your head listing by degrees toward the warm solid thing on your left because your body, again, moving without giving a single shit about how you felt.
When you surfaced, it happened slowly. The light had changed; it was full morning now, white and flat through the windshield. Your cheek was pressed against something that rose and fell in a long, even rhythm, and your brain took its time arriving to the fact of it. You’d fallen asleep on Jack's chest. One month clean and your face was tucked into the seam of his jacket like it had never stopped being there.
You weren’t proud of how you didn’t want to move just yet, so you didn’t move.
You could feel his breathing under your cheek, slow enough that he might have been asleep, too. There was a smell to him you’d made yourself forget and were now remembering, completely against your will. It was nothing fancy, just clean cotton and something warm. The Gatorade bottle you’d been clutching was in the cupholder against your knee now, and you had no memory putting it there. Which meant there was a slight chance Jack had worked it out of your sleeping hand at some point so it wouldn’t tip into your lap, and set it down.
You cracked one eye to assess the damage to your dignity. Dennis had leaned in the same stretch of road, toward you, hood up and mouth open, gone to the world. And somewhere in all that, Jack’s arm, the long span of it along the seatback, had come down around you with his hand had ended up resting flat on the top of Dennis’s skull, holding it off your shoulder, fingers spread over the kid’s hair like a melon he was deciding whether to buy.
You’d furrowed your brows at the arrangement, reeling, when the camera shutter went off.
Jack came awake all at once. He always did; he was never groggy, never had a transition. It was like there was an off and on button to him, as though his nervous system had been trained somewhere that didn’t allow the luxury of waking up slowly. He clocked it in a half second: the phone, you against his chest, the unexplained weight under his own palm. He followed his arm down to where his hand was cradling a sleeping resident’s head and his face crumpled slightly.
He smacked it off, open-palmed, off the top of Dennis’s skull.
“Ow.” Dennis jolted awake, flailing upright, a crease pressed into his cheek from your sleeve. “What — Dr. Abbot — what —”
“Wrong shoulder, kid,” Jack said.
“I wasn’t —” Dennis took in the angle for himself and recoiled. “Sorry. God. Sorry.”
You’d started to sit up to peel yourself off Jack’s chest and salvage some dignity to sit back into the cold neutral air of your own seat where you belonged. His palm came up to your forehead and pushed you back down against him.
“Not you,” he said. His hand stayed flat on your forehead. “You’re fine where you are.”
You reached up and pulled his hand off your forehead, sitting up out of the warmth of him.
“C’mon,” he said quietly, under the music, softer than a command.
You paused with your hand still around his wrist and turned to look at him full-on. He was already looking at you, none of the previous needling present in his face.
You shook your head once, a small gesture. You didn’t trust the words to come out the way they needed to, so you let your face carry it instead.
He held your eyes a second, then his jaw shifted slightly and the corner of his mouth went to a worn-down half of a smile. He gave you the smallest nod. His eyes fell shut and he tipped his head back with a small shake of his head as he eased his wrist out of your hand.
You put your hands in your lap where they couldn’t get you in trouble, and stared out at the flat white morning coming up over the interstate, and made sure to not look at him again.
The conference threw a networking event the first evening, which meant a low-lit ball room, a cash bar charging eleven dollars for wine that came from a box, and a couple hundred physicians standing around in lanyards pretending they’d be here without the boxed wine.
You’d lost the group almost immediately. Dana was drawn to a cluster of people she knew in a previous life; Robby to someone he’d done a residency with; Dennis to the food; Trinity to one of her college buddies. It left you working the edge of the room with a plastic cup of wine, doing a slow orbit as you read badges, when a man peeled off a nearby conversation and aimed at you.
He was older. Closer to Jack’s range, give or take. He had silver coming in at the temples and an unbothered ease that made you wonder if he’d ever had it hard. His badge put him outside Columbus. He had a good face and seemed aware of it without leaning on it, and no wear that graced his features; a man who slept fine, you assumed, and didn’t own a single thing he refused to speak about.
“Pace yourself with that,” he said, tipping his own glass in the direction of yours. “It comes up to you pretty quickly.”
“Bit late for that,” you said, lifting the cup up an inch. “This is already number three.”
“Then I’m too late to save you and might as well make it worse,” he said, offering a hand. “Mark. Philly. I run the shop out there.”
You introduced yourself. He had a good handshake, dry and brief, none of the holding-on the men sometimes did at these things.
He tipped his head to look at your badge. “Pittsburgh Trauma. You like it?”
“Most days.”
He shrugged. “Anybody who says every day is lying or hasn’t been doing it long enough.” He took a sip and let his eyes come back to your face. “Let me guess. Senior resident. Somebody made you come.”
You were going to say something back—you had something, you’d half-built it—and then there was a hand at the small of your back. You knew the weight of it, the breadth, where the fingers fell. It settled low against your spine and stayed, warm through the dress.
“Mark,” Jack said from beside you. He had a club soda in his free hand and an easy nothing on his face. “Jack Abbot. Pittsburgh.”
“Jack.” Mark did a quick thing, the hand, the half-step Jack had folded into the space between you without seeming to take it, the way you hadn't stepped out from under his palm. Something recalibrated behind his face, pleasant and unhurried. He stuck the hand out anyway. “I think I’ve read you —” He referenced one of Jack’s studies you knew all too well, something he’d handed over to you once in his bed like it was a bedtime story.
“That’s me.” Jack took the handshake. His thumb moved once at your spine, where the angle hid it from the third person entirely. “Philly? You inherit the department or build it?”
“Little bit of both. Mostly inherited the problems,” he said lightly. “You enjoying the conference?”
“It’s a conference,” Jack said, lifting his glass half-an-inch. Then, his head tilted in your direction. “You know this one’s my best trauma resident? I’d put her on anything. Watched her run a procedure last month half the seniors I came up with couldn’t have called that fast.”
“That so?” Mark looked at you again, interest sharpened. “He doesn’t seem the type to hand those out.”
“He’s nice to everyone.”
“She’s underselling it.” Jack’s hand spread a degree wider at your back, the heel of his palm settling into the dip of your spine, fingers easy along your hip. “You’ll be reading her name in a couple years and remembering you met her here, of all places.”
It got the laugh Jack wanted it to. Mark took a sip, easy, regrouping, and you watched him do the math the way smooth men do—fast, behind a pleasant face—and land on a play.
“Well.” He tilted the glass toward Jack. “I won’t monopolize you. I’m sure you’ve got the room to work — everybody wants a minute at these things.”
The thumb that had been moving at your back stilled, and Jack’s features crossed into something amused as he narrowed his brows at the man.
“S’alright,” he said pleasantly. “Got everyone I need right here.”
Mark recaliberated again, watching him take Jack’s measure one more time; the hand, the half-inch of space that hardly qualified as space. You watched him arrive to the easy conclusion that whatever was happening here had been decided before he ever walked over.
“Fair enough,” he said, setting his empty cup down at the nearest high-top. “Pleasure. Good luck with the residency.” He nodded at you, then to Jack. “Abbot.” And then he was gone, folding back into the room, off to find the next conversation that wasn’t already spoken for.
Jack’s hand was still on your back, and you stepped out from under it. You turned to face him, and felt the thing that had been climbing in you all night finally find a target.
“Why would you do that?” you asked, shaking your head and pressing your lips shut to keep yourself from saying anything more.
“Do what?” he said mildly, the glass loose in his hand.
“Don’t.” You kept your face arranged for the room, tamping down your voice so it wouldn’t carry over to strangers. “You know what you did. You’re not stupid.”
“I said you were good at your job.” He had the gall to look reasonable. “Becuase you are.”
“That’s not what it was and you know it — thank you.” Your jaw tightened. “You don’t get to walk over and put your hand on me when I’m talking to another man and act like — ” Your fingers moved between the two of you, a small and sharp movement. “ — like you’ve got any claim. We agreed to this a month ago.”
Jack’s lips pressed in a thin line at the words, and his eyes raked over your face. “He’d have you in his bed by ten,” he said, calmer now. “Guys like that — it’s their whole game at places like this. One night, gone by checkout. You didn’t lose anything worth keeping.”
Your brows furrowed at that, and you felt something go hot in your neck. “Yeah?” you asked, voice going quieter. “Isn’t that what you were?”
He looked away for a second, one hand coming up to rub over the bottom half of his face. “If you can’t tell the difference between me and a guy like that,” he said evenly, and there was something genuinely stung underneath as his eyes met yours, “then I really don’t know what to tell you.”
“Maybe there isn’t one.”
His face twisted at that, and he let out a disbelieved laugh. “That’s how you think of me?”
“That’s not — ” You stopped, because his face had knocked something loose in you and you had no idea what you thought anymore. “That’s not what I said.”
“It sounded a hell of a lot like it.” He shook his head. “Six months and you’re putting me next to a guy you met ten minutes ago. Alright.”
“Jack — ”
“You wanted it, too. Okay?” When you let out a small ‘what?’ he continued, “You heard me. You’re acting like you just went along with it, and you never once asked for more either.” His voice had dropped low, and he’d walked closer to you before you even realized. “You never once asked for more until the night you walked. So don’t put it all on me.”
“I asked,” you said, voice cracking just slightly, and you looked around the room to see if anyone was close to you. “You were the one who told me to go find someone else. You said you’re no good past what we were doing.”
“I said it because it’s true,” he said quickly, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not the guy you build the rest of your life around. I tried to do the decent thing.”
“Then stand on that,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me to find someone and stop it the second anyone shows up. Pick one. You don’t get to keep me in your life like this forever because you can’t stand to either let me in or go.”
“I’m trying to do right by you,” he said roughly.
You pressed two fingers above your eyelid, shaking your head. “Why are you doing this?” You shoulders came up to your ears. “I don’t — it was never going to be us, Jack. You said so yourself. I don’t get why — I need to move on.”
He closed his eyes at that for a moment. “I know you do,” he said quietly, the fight gone all out of him. His eyes flickered down to his hand for a second, then made a loose fist out of them. “I — can we go somewhere else?” He leaned in slightly, body stiffening up. Reading the hesitation on your face, he said, “Please.”
You’d watched him avoid the word in a dozen rooms, so you nodded slowly and forced yourself to not look too hard at why. You couldn’t, because if you stopped to let yourself consider it, it’d make your body hurt even more, and you’d still do it.
The stairwell was the only door on the floor that wasn’t a room or a lobby. It was fire-exit cold, raw concrete, a fluorescent light overhead. The reception came up through the floor as bass and nothing else, the words gone out of it. The door sucked shut behind you both and took the noise with it. You both walked four floors up, apparently neither of you being ready to do anything about it. And then there was simply the buzz of the bad light and Jack, six months and one month and four floors and a whole conference away from you, standing with his back to the cinderblock and his hands jammed in his pockets.
You crossed your arms and your eyes involuntarily flickered up to the ceiling because you weren’t sure you could talk. But when he let the silence drag on, too, you said, “Jack — ”
“Did you want it to be me?” he said immediately, like your voice had spurred him into action.
“What?”
“The whole thing you said you want. Dates, the rest of it.” His body was stiff against the wall. “Was that — did you ever imagine me, or just, someone else. Someone who would.”
You took in a shaky breath. “You.” It came out more plainly than you’d expected, like your body had been ready to be rid of it, to place it somewhere in the open. “I left because I wanted more — with you, and you made it pretty clear I could never have that.”
His hands jammed in his pockets. The light buzzed overhead, that sick fluorescent flutter, and somewhere four floors down the reception kept going, two hundred people who'd never know this was happening over their heads.
“I don’t think I can give you that,” he said.
“Okay.” You forced yourself to nod, and your eyes went hot. “Thanks for telling me that, then.”
He raised a palm just enough that it caught in your eyesight. “I didn’t — didn’t say I never wanted to. Don’t think that.” He tilted his neck up to meet your eyes properly. “Wanting you that way wasn’t hard. I’ve been doing that against my own advice the entire time.”
He'd come off the wall a step without seeming to know he'd done it, and his face had lost the arrangement it usually wore, the bored set of it, and underneath was something you'd caught glimpses of and never the whole of. His eyes shifted to the wall, the stenciled number, anywhere but you.
“I did years of this already. And it ended about as badly as it could end.” He laughed wryly, no humor in it. “I stopped letting myself want things — I thought it’s a lot easier to get through a night if there’s nothing you’d be hurt to lose.” His muscles tensed on his face, the lines deepening as he pinched his eyes shut and shook his head. “Feels like I’m losing you, and it hurts like hell.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t meant to.”
You pressed a finger against the underside of your eye then, determined to catch anything that could possibly leak out.
“But you don’t know if you can do it,” you said, words coming out shakily.
He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head slowly. “No,” he said honestly, and it was worse than any lie he could’ve told. “I don’t know.”
You nodded again, because there was nothing else for you to do.
“But — but, I don’t wanna lose what I’ve got with you,” he admitted, voice dropping into something shameful. “I know that the nights you’re not on are longer. And if I can’t have you, I want you to know you do that for me. It started being pretty serious a long time ago — for me, too.”
The light fluttered overhead and you let the finger drop from under your eye, gave up on holding it, let whatever wanted to come just come. Somehow, they were words you’d always wanted to hear and yet they arrived wrong, off-rhythm. You’d kept careful track of everything he wouldn’t give you, a whole running tally of it, and he'd just gone and paid the entire balance in one breath in the worst-lit room, and the awful part — the part that made your blood run even hotter — was that it counted. It counted, anyway.
“So what do we do with that?” you said. “I don’t — I don’t know where that leaves us.”
He was quiet for a moment. You watched him sit in the question instead of dodging it, which was new, which was maybe the most he’d ever given you in one night.
“I’d want to try,” he said finally, words careful, like he was setting something down that might break. “Not the old way. I mean the other thing. What you wanted.” He let out a breath. “If you still want it. I wasn’t very great the first time, and I’m out of practice, too.”
You wiped your cheek, and winced as you felt your hand scrub at your skin a little too roughly. “You were okay with it a month ago — ”
“It hurt,” he said immediately. “It hurt, you walking out. I didn’t have anything better than to let you, but don’t — don’t think it didn’t.”
He moved when you didn’t respond, stepping closer than the conversation needed. His hands came up and settled at your arms, just below the shoulders, loose, holding you in place or holding himself there, you couldn't tell which, maybe both.
“Let me try,” he said roughly. His thumbs moved once against your arms. “I want to learn this with you.”
You looked up at him. He held it — your eyes, the closeness, all of it — instead of glancing off the way he had all night. You realized distantly that this was a sort of contract you’d be signing, and he was laying out the option for you to not do so.
“You can’t disappear on me,” you said instead of considering the second option, “when it gets hard. I don’t ever want to feel like I made up something I didn’t.”
He nodded stiffly. “If I do, you can drag me back out.”
His forehead came down, to the top of your head, his chin resting in your hair, his arms folding the rest of the way around you like he'd finally run out of reasons not to. You felt him breathe out, the whole tense length of him going down an inch against you.
“Just let me try,” he said again, into your hair, voice a whisper. “Please. I’m asking. I don’t do that a lot.”
Robby knew you were off limits, you were his ex’s daughter for gods sake and he was your boss. But when you found yourself in a not so great situation he was the first to help. With one thing leading to another the two of you finally gave into your desires.
CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, fauxcest, use of dad and kid, unprotected piv, breeding kink, oral (m/f), fingering
Note: this one kinda got away from me hehe it’s 4.6k words of pure smut, also proofreading? Never heard of her 🤭…hope yall enjoy!
You were drunk, too drunk if you were honest. But at this moment you couldn’t care less. Even though you knew this was the absolute worst coping mechanism you could’ve possibly gone with, it was one you could do alone. Not having to burden everyone with your problems. Especially after receiving a rejection about your request to switch to a surgical residency.
Which is why you found yourself in the sketchy area of downtown Pittsburgh stumbling through the crowd to get to a bathroom. Finally arriving at a free stall almost ten minutes later you sat down to relieve yourself. Leaning over your knees and taking a breath was when the spins and just how far gone you were had hit. This was when you decided to ask for help.
You couldn’t remember who was on shift so you opted for texting the ‘Pittlings group chat’ that included; Trinity, Dennis, Javadi, and Samira. Or you thought you did. In reality you had texted the full dayshift chat that was only supposed to be used during shift for work related situations. Something you meant to avoid as that chat included your boss Robby, who also happened to be your moms ex.
They were together for a decently long time, they started dating when you were 18 and fresh out of highschool. Making it until your last year of medical school before they ended things. Which made starting your clinical rotations at Robby’s hospital just slightly awkward.
But now you’re 26 and a second year resident in the PTMC ED. However, things were still slightly awkward between the two of you. This was mostly in part because your mom had cheated on him. But the other part was the fact that you had been harboring a massive crush on the man since he had started dating your mom. Something you had told no one but Trinity, who then told Dennis. Who then accidentally let it slip to Javadi who had been with Samira when he said it.
So everyone knew. But everyone also knew that Robby looked at you the same way you did him.
Which meant that when your clearly drunk text came through reading ‘SOS drunc hornyyyy ned ridee’, no one questioned Robby’s immediate response of being on his way. You weren’t sure who responded to your message barely paying attention to names, but you at least saw the response of whoever it was being 5 min out.
Heading out of the dingey building with your arms around your body for any type of heat you could generate you regretted the decision to wait outside. Your jean microskirt, black tank-top, and sheer lace over shirt did nothing to keep you warm. But you sure as hell looked hot. Scoring at least three phone numbers, including one coming from a bartender who’d given you free drinks all night.
And it was that same bartender who was calling your name while walking out to where you stood on the curb now.
“Hey! I saw you standing out here and figured I’d see if you wanted to head out together?” His proximity was way too close for your liking now that you were just wanting to go home.
“Oh uhm, no thank you” you attempted a step back, “a friend is picking me up, I’m sorry”
Whatever distance you gained was instantly lost as he followed closely. Even going as far as grabbing your wrist fairly tightly.
“Oh come on don’t be like that” he scoffed pulling you closer by where he held you, “you’ve been flirting with me all night. You can’t just lead me on like that and not expect me to want something”
His words had sobered you up in record time, words no woman wanted to hear when they were alone on a dark street. The only self defence ideas you had going for you was the fact someone was on their way, and four moves Jack had taught you when you picked up a night shift once.
“Hey look here buddy! I don’t owe you anything asshole-” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before a familiar scent enveloped you from behind, at the same time your arm was freed from the bartender's grip.
“Touch her again and it’ll be the last thing you do I can promise you that” Robby’s voice wasn’t loud, but his tone told the man and everyone around that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Whatever” the bartender was quick to scoff trying to seem unbothered as he shook out his arms, “the bitch isn’t hot enough for this type of effort anyway”
“The fuck did you just say to her!”
You grabbed Robby’s arm in an attempt to stop the situation from going any further. Granted you skidded a few steps in effort but you were able to at least slow him down. But he only stopped at the sound of your soft and slightly wavering voice.
“Michael please, it’s fine I just w-wanna go home” you rarely called him by his first name, so you knew it would grab his attention.
With a reluctant nod he rested a hand at your lower back guiding you to his truck that he had left at the curb. The bright flashing hazard lights caused you to stumble just a bit seeing as you still had a slight wobble to your step. Your body seemingly not as caught up on sobering like your mind had.
Attempting to step up into the truck you felt a sharp tug on the hem of your skirt holding the material down. Now that you were out of the highly stressful situation you were able to process the feeling of confusion. You weren’t exactly sure why Robby out of everyone was here, or how he even knew you needed help getting home in the first place.
“How did you-”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here like this?” His sharp words cut you off, “do you know how worried I was when that text came through, and even worse when I tracked your location”
“You still have my location!?”
“That is the least of your goddamn worries right now,” Robby was pissed that much you did know, “and then you had to go and wear nothing but see through strips of fabric out here, you could’ve gotten hurt, you almost did get hurt!”
He wasn’t truly pissed about your clothing choice, you had the freedom to wear whatever you wanted. Robby was just pissed that other people got to see you and touch you like he wanted to. Even now he was trying his hardest not to stare at the way your skirt rode up your thighs, or how your breasts we’re spilling over the confines of your top.
You were his ex’s daughter for god's sake! He shouldn’t be thinking of how your soft skin and pouty lips would feel. Nor should he think about how much better you would be than your mother. But he had, he had thought about you one too many times with his fist tightly wrapped around himself. Imagining it was your hand or mouth around his aching cock choking him down instead.
So he couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective and angry about the situation he found you in. But you didn’t bother fighting back after that, you refused to be scolded like a child. Even though you ended up crossing your arms and slouching like one in his passenger seat. Going as far as to give him the silent treatment while only looking out the window the rest of the ride. Completely ignoring him until you realized the neighborhood he had pulled into was nowhere near your own.
“This isn’t my home” you grumbled, leaning forward to put your address in his GPS. Not getting very far as he slapped your hand away
“Yeah no shit sweetheart, I know where you live and you’re staying at mine tonight”
His sentence barely finished before he pulled into his driveway, reaching over and unbuckling your belt before he hopped out. Your jaw dropped open in disbelief of his curt behavior, one you hadn’t truly experienced outside of the hospital. Pulling out your phone your thumb was poised at the uber app when suddenly your door flew open. Robby stood there with an expectant look on his face.
“I’m not getting out” you refused to move, typing his address into the phone so that you could order a ride.
“Either you get out like a big girl or I make you”
You didn’t believe his words, thinking he wasn’t going to follow through and that he would just give up. But before you could hit submit on your screen, your body was manhandled out of the seat and onto your feet. A large hand gripping your bicep as he pulled you towards his front door before you could get a word out. He all but threw through his door and up to his bedroom before you were able to find the ability to speak.
“What do you think you’re doing!?”
“Take a shower, change, bed”
“You know you’re not with my mom anymore right? You don’t have to play hero with me.” You go to walk past him and out of his room, but Robby stays rooted in the doorway as an immovable statue.
“Do not make me repeat myself kid”
“Kid, seriously? I didn’t ask for your help Dad”
You were pissed that after all this time he still only saw you as a child. A realization that made your attraction to him feel so much more humiliating. But what you failed to notice in your anger was how his jaw clenched and his pupils dilated at the name you called him. No, you were too focused on his choice of words for yourself.
So out of spite you decided to listen to his previous statement, but carried out his request with an attitude. Turning to his closet you began riffling through his drawers. Throwing pieces of clothing on the floor until you found a shirt you wanted. Doing the same with his other drawers until you found a pair of boxers you felt was acceptable.
And Robby just stood there, arms crossed with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He was doing his best to keep his eyes on your face and not anywhere else while you bent over. But he just couldn’t help himself when a small strip of red lacy fabric caught his attention. However he quickly averted his eyes when you straightened up and turned towards the bathroom.
Stomping the whole way into his adjacent bathroom you made sure to slam the door closed, rattling the objects on his desk. If he was going to treat you like a child you were going to give him the whole act. You made sure to take an extra long shower. One that had the water running cold and condensation dripping down the mirror, and you used all of his products out of spite (desire). You also might have poured some down the drain so there wasn’t much left.
Stepping out of the now cold water you took the towel you assumed was his and wrapped it around your body, while making your way to his sink where you used his toothbrush. The heat from the shower had helped you sweat out most of the alcohol you had consumed, making you fully aware of the situation you now found yourself in.
You were alone with Robby. Something that you had been actively avoiding since he and your mom broke up. Especially since she had cheated on him and then blamed Robby for her cheating. You never understood your mom. She had a strong, handsome, well established man who treated her well and she just let it slip away. You weren’t surprised though, she was always reckless with her choices not caring who she hurt.
You wouldn’t do that to him, you would make sure he knew how much you wanted him. So with the opportunity all but dropped into your lap, you decided to take it. Drying your hair with the towel, you look at the items of clothing you brought. A worn grey northwestern shirt and a pair of boxers. Slipping on the worn piece of clothing you chose to forgo the boxers and bra before walking out in just his shirt.
Walking out of the bathroom you saw the clothes you had thrown on the floor were already picked up and Robby was nowhere to be found. But your confusion was stopped short when he came through the door carrying Tylenol and a glass of water. An action that had you feeling slightly guilty for being such a brat.
Wordlessly he went to hand you the two objects, and to his surprise instead of grabbing them you tilted your head back and opened your mouth. Robby knew what you wanted only hesitating for just a moment before dropping the two pills in your mouth and tipping the water glass to your lips.
You kept your eyes on his the whole time, watching how his own tracked the movement of your throat as you swallowed. Tracing the path rivulets of water took with his gaze as it dripped from the corners of your mouth. With a sharp inhale of breath through his nose he hurriedly took a step back. Seeming to realize just what you were doing.
But true to your original intentions, you weren’t about to let him go. For every step he took back you took one forward. Right up until his back hit the door and he had nowhere else to go.
“W-what do you think you’re doing? We can’t, c’mon kid you gotta stop” His voice shook just slightly in questioning, rising into mild panic when you dropped to your knees and ran your hands over his body.
“Again with the kid?” You roll your eyes while lifting his shirt up slightly and undoing the button on his bottoms. Nuzzling your face into the thick patch of dark hair that trailed his soft stomach, “relax dad, moms not here anymore and I am not a child”
Pressing featherlight kisses to his now exposed skin, you watched as the bulge at the front of his underwear grew and jump at the name you used once more. Running your nose over the coarse hair, you took a deep inhale before pulling his boxers down. His heavy cock bobbed up when released from the fabric. You paused for just a moment as you studied him. He was bigger than you imagined, his flushed and angry tip was trailed by a large vein that disappeared into dense and unruly curls at his base
“So fucking big dad” Tucking the band behind his balls you wrapped your hand around him while looking up at his face.
Pressing a kiss to his cock, Robby hisses at the sensation clenching his fists to stop himself from pushing you down further. He was almost refusing to look at you, not allowing himself to give in. So you lifted his cock up, making room for you to take his balls into your mouth. Suckling the smooth skin and rolling them around with your tongue.
“Oh fuck, please” you weren’t sure what he was begging for, but you knew he was finally breaking.
Releasing his balls you dragged your tongue, broad and flat, from base to tip in one smooth motion. Running your tongue under the ridge of his cockhead, watching a shudder flow through his body.
“Did mommy ever touch you like this?” You ask wile collecting his leaking precum and spreading it over his length as he shakes his head, “no, I didn’t think so, she never took care of you like I will. I can take it, I’m a big girl now, remember?”
He opened his mouth to reply, whatever thoughts he had quickly dissipated as you finally took him into your mouth. Taking him as far as you could manage, which to his surprise was all the way down until your nose found its way tucked into his coarse hairs once more. Robby couldn’t control how his hands flew up into your hair holding you there as your throat tightened around him when you attempted to swallow.
“Holy fuck, just like that sweetheart”
His hold loosened for you to move off and take a breath, trying his best to let you set the pace. Almost releasing your hair all the way before you moved his hand back into your hair, silently giving him permission to use you.
With both hands now rested against the back of your head he started off slow and shallow. But when your hands that rested on his legs pulled him forward in a jerking motion, he understood what you were telling him. It didn’t take him long to build confidence. Hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth.
One of your own hands let go of his legs and came to your throbbing clit. Rubbing tight circles as your cunt clenched around nothing. Moans vibrated from your mouth and onto his throbbing cock pushing Robby close to the edge. He quickly yanked your mouth off with a curse. A small whine left your own mouth from the absence. You went to complain but his hands scooped you from under your armpits and threw you onto the bed.
“Shit sweetheart, you trying to get yourself off while sucking dad’s cock?”
He stepped out of his pants and threw his shirt to the other side of the room, you doing the same with your own. Gripping the back of your thighs Robby lifts your bottom off the bed with a renewed fervor he didn’t have before. A moment passed of Robby just taking in the sight of your glistening cunt before leaning forward and sucking your clit into his mouth with deadly accuracy.
“Oh fuck Robby! Just like that !” A cry sounded around the room as he pulled off and gave a stinging slap to your puffy cunt.
“Don’t call me Robby, not now, not after you’ve been playing out your little fantasy this whole time”
“M’sorry, p-please don’t stop!”
“Then what do we say sweetheart?” Robby caressed the back of your thighs with his hands as he waited for your answer.
“I-I’m sorry dad”
You watched with wide eyes as he smirked in approval before spitting onto your clit. Taking two fingers to spread it around, and plunging those same fingers into your entrance with no warning. The absurd squelching noise that came from where he shoved his fingers into you made your cheeks bright red.
“All this for me?” Robby’s words were followed by the crook of his fingers, as he watched your cunt greedily swallow his fingers “such a dirty girl, practically begging her dad to fuck her. What would your momma say if she could see you now?”
You shook your head playing into the idea of getting caught, Robby chuckled watching you. Leaning forward he placed his mouth on your clit once more. His beard adding a delicious friction to your already sensitive skin. The combination of his movements had your impending orgasm building at lightning speed. He was hitting a spot you could never reach yourself, over and over again.
With your toes curled and hands twisted into the sheets, an unfamiliar feeling followed the tight flutter of your walls. You didn’t think much of it assuming it was because you hadn’t been with someone in a while. But by the squirm of your body, Robby knew exactly what was happening. Doubling down in his efforts he was the only one not surprised by the rush of fluid that coated his tongue and beard when your orgasm finally took over.
You on the other hand had no idea what just happened. At the first release of your peak, pleasure had completely overtaken your senses and ability to process your surroundings. So when you felt an obscene amount of wetness soak your thighs, all you could do was let out the most pornographic moan you had ever made. Mouth babbling nonsense as Robby kept fingering you. Not stopping until he felt your cunt relax around his hand.
Slipping his fingers out he set them into his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste. You however, were already halfway fucked dumb laying silent on the bed in an attempt to catch your breath. But before you could fully get comfortable Robby gripped your hips and flipped you onto your front. Arching your back as he manipulated your knees under you. Feeling his fingers trace your sensitive and overstimulated flesh your body tried to pull away.
“Ah ah ah, you’re the one who wanted to be treated like a big girl, but after only one orgasm you’re already falling asleep?” he chastised your behavior as you struggled to keep your eyes open, “gotta stay awake if you’re going to prove you can take it”
“Please d-dad, I-I can d-do it” your words were hiccuped and sluggish as they left your lips.
“Then take a nice big breath for me sweetheart”
Notching his cock at your cunt, as soon as he heard your lungs fill with air Robby pushed the entirety of his length into you. Smirking at the sound of that same air leaving your lungs at the impact. You had never felt so full before. He was bigger than any other partner you’ve had and you were struggling to hold onto your sanity.
Robby, noticing your intense focus, pulled back until only his tip rested inside you. Letting you catch a false sense of security before thrusting his cock back into you. Doing this a handful of times before creating a consistent deep and brutal pace.
“Feel so fucking good baby,” the new endearment slipped from his lips, “so much better than your mom, taking me better than she ever could”
Your cunt clenched at his words, choking his cock as he bullied it through your walls. His thick cockhead pressing against your cervix with each thrust, almost painfully so. But you were determined to show him that you could handle it. Robby knowing just how much you wanted to prove yourself pushed just a little harder than normal.
With one hand at your hip and the other pressing between your shoulder blades, he created a deep arch in your spine. Your noises were muffled by the mattress with every thrust, but just when you were starting to get comfortable in this position Robby once again effortlessly maneuvered your body. This time ending up on your back once more, but this time with both legs hooked over his shoulders.
Barely getting a breath in before sinking himself into your heat. This new position had you swearing that you felt him in your stomach. Low moans clawed their way up your throat as words were unable to form under the sheer pleasure that filled your body. Each snap of his hips sent a lewd reverberating smack throughout the room as his balls hit your bottom
“Would you look at that, poor thing can barely fit me but you’re doing so well sweetheart” his tone was slathered in honey but still slightly condescending.
You didn’t understand what he meant until he set a hand at your lower stomach, as he pressed down just slightly there was an increase in the pressure you felt as he fucked up into you. Peeking your eyes open you saw what he was so mesmerized with. A fairly prominent bulge was puffing up in your lower stomach with every single movement.
Throwing your head back, you reached a hand down placing it on top of his. A moment later you felt his pace pause just a moment and the stretch of your thighs pulled as he leaned over for just a moment. Eyes screwing shut while his cock pressed against the deepest part it could reach as you heard him grab something. You didn't think much of it before he resumed his movements, restarting at a rougher pace.
“Tell me how good you feel right now” Robby’s voice rattled around your otherwise empty brain.
“S’good, feels s’good”
“Now tell me, fuck, whose the only one who can touch you like this from now on”
“Y-you dad, o-only you” the clench of your cunt began building as your second orgasm crept up. Robby angling his hips to bullying that one spot he knew would have you waking the neighbors.
“That’s right baby, and your gonna let dad fuck a baby into you aren’t you? Give your momma a grandkid with her ex”
A resounding ‘yes please’ came in a high pitched mewl, as his words were paired with the start of a thumb circling your clit at the same pace his cock was moving.
“Open your eyes and say it to the camera baby”
Your eyes flew open watching how he moved the phone from where it had been recording the slick movements of his cock up to your face. That was the exact moment that your body decided to tip over the edge. Seizing up every single moral you could’ve possibly held onto and threw it out the window.
“Yes please, I want dad to give me a baby so bad!” Your sentence was spoken straight to the camera as he zoomed in.
He held it there for just one moment before setting it to the side while still recording. Grabbing your hips with both hands he brought your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your mouth hung open in a silent ‘o’ as his motions prolonged your orgasm. You were on the verge of tears when he finally let out a graveled grunt.
“Fuck baby! That’s it keep squeezing just like that ” he pressed forward bending you in half before seizing your lips with his for the first time that night. You felt the white hot ropes of his cum coat your walls as he lets out his own noises, letting them get swallowed up in your kiss.
Pressing himself deep as his hips continued with shallow thrusts, lips never leaving yours. Swiping his at the seam of your mouth you opened up, tasting the slight tang left over from yourself on his tongue. It was a long time before either of you came up for air. And an even longer time before he shut off the recording and went to grab a warm damp cloth from the bathroom.
After cleaning the both of you up, Robby settled in beside you promising to talk more in the morning about what this means. He made mention of how he didn’t deserve you, how it was wrong for him to do this and he should be the better example. Shushing his doubts, you told him that no one would have to know. The two of you fell asleep not long after that.
However, you had woken up at around 3am to the sound of soft snores leaving Robby's lips and the low volume of the tv in the living room. Getting an idea you sat up you searched for his phone. Unlocking it you saw how the old man didn’t have a lock on it, so you didn’t feel bad when you rifled through his photos and sent yourself the video he took.
After another moment of holding his phone you decided to send that video to a contact he still had in his phone but hadn’t messaged in years. You typed in your mothers name before hitting send. Waiting until the message said read and three little dots appeared before you hit block and delete. Setting it over on the bedside table, you silenced your own ringing cell before tucking yourself back into his side and falling back asleep.
synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.
warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.
wc: 2,3k
a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.
Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.
Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.
“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.
“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.
“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—
“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—
“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”
“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.
Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant.
What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.
But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore.
You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.
Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.
He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it.
“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”
Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.
The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now.
You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish.
“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little.
“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.
You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.
Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.
“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest.
“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.
“Please…”
“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do.
You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?
With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”
“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.
“If you’re grossed out—“
“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”
That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”
“The millisecond.”
His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”
“I’ll put a poet to shame.”
“Pull my hair?”
“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”
A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”
Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.
It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.
The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens.
But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?
You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours.
You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again.
“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.
“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.
He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.
Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it?
His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.
Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”
“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”
You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.
It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.
Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.
Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!
You love these fucking supermoons.
“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”
“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“
“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”
He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”
“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.
“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.
You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”
Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”
“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.”
the air in valko’s penthouse was thick with the scent of ozone and rain, the storm outside casting long, fractured shadows across the glass. you were sprawled across his pristine black sheets, your chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths, wearing nothing but the thin, faded t-shirt you’d stolen from his closet.
he was standing at the foot of the bed, stripped down to a pair of low-slung charcoal slacks, his sculpted torso a worthy distraction, but your eyes weren’t on his abs. they were locked on the object dangling from his fingers.
his muzzle, a sleek piece of cold metal— a cage of sharp angles and jagged lines that perfectly framed the hard set of his jaw. when he wore it, he was a beast, a predator with those piercing, golden-amber eyes that could strip you bare with a single glance.
“you’ve been staring at this all night, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr that vibrated through the floorboards. he twirled the muzzle by its leather strap, the metallic clink of the latches a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “tell me what you’re thinking.”
you bit your lip, heat pooling low in your belly. you were playing a dangerous game and you both knew it. “i’m thinking… i want to know what it feels like.”
a slow, predatory smile curled the corner of his mouth, canines peeking through slightly. “do you, now?” he stalked around the bed, his movements fluid and silent, like a wolf closing in on its prey. he stopped beside you, his large, calloused hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face up to his. his thumb brushed over your lower lip, parting it gently.
“you want my cage around your face?” he breathed, his golden eyes darkening with a dangerous, possessive glint.
you nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “please.”
your plea seemed to ignite something feral in him and he didn’t give you a chance to second-guess it. in a single, fluid motion, he slipped behind you, his bare chest pressing flush against your back, his warm skin searing yours. he smelled of expensive cologne, rain and pure, masculine heat.
“rules, puppy,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “one: you don’t take it off. not until i say so. two: you don’t speak unless i ask you a question. and three…” he paused, sliding the cool metal of the muzzle against your cheek, letting you feel its weight. “you beg me with your eyes, and i will give you exactly what you need. understood?”
a pathetic, breathless whimper escaped you, and he chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your spine.
slowly, he brought the muzzle over your head. the leather straps felt like silk against your skin, but the metal was frigid. he positioned it over your mouth and nose, it’s metal pieces adjusting their position to make it a snug, perfect fit, as if it had been crafted for you. the cool iron pressed against the bridge of your nose, the cage covering your lips, leaving your eyes— your only tether to him— fully exposed.
the latches clicked into place with a satisfying, final clack.
it was as if your brain accommodated to the rules immediately, a jolt of electricity shot through you at the sudden inability to speak. the cold metal against your flushed skin made you nervous, your hands instinctively flew back, gripping his thick, corded thighs as he knelt behind you.
“theeere she is,” he rasped, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping your hips with bruising intensity. “my perfect, obedient little thing. you have no idea what that does to me.”
he shifted, pressing a searing, open-mouthed kiss to your bare shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, but the sound was muffled, trapped behind the cold steel. it came out as a desperate, guttural hum. that sound drove him absolutely insane.
his hands trailed lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt, his fingers splaying across your stomach. “so warm for me,” he growled, his voice breaking. “you like this, don’t you? you like being claimed.”
he leaned down, his lips teasing the slick, heated skin of your neck. he nipped at the pulse point, hard enough to sting, before dragging his tongue up to the edge of the metal mask. he kissed the cold steel right over your mouth.
he cupped your face, his thumb stroking the cold metal over your lower lip. the friction was maddening. you pressed your mouth against it, trying to kiss his thumb through the barrier, a soft, desperate whine escaping your throat.
he loved that sound. you saw it in the way his pupils dilated, in the predatory way his tongue darted out to wet his own lips. he was starving.
he pushed you down onto your stomach, the silk sheets cool against your overheated skin. he loomed over you, his massive frame casting you in shadow. with a rough tug, he yanked your shirt up, baring your back, before his hands found the curve of your ass, squeezing and kneading with raw, unrestrained lust.
he tugged down the thin fabric of your panties, tossing them aside. you could feel the heavy, thick length of his cock pressing against your thigh, hot and demanding, even through his slacks. he rocked against you, a slow, punishing grind that had your fingers twisting into the sheets. you gave him a desperate glance over your shoulder, unable to express anything through words.
“god, the way you look at me,” he groaned, his chest heaving. his hand slid between your thighs, finding you slick and ready for him. he groaned at the feel of your wetness, his fingers parting you, circling your clit with a pressure that made your spine arch. the muffled cry you let out was obscene.
“one word from you,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck. “one single sound, and i’ll tear this thing off and take you right here until you scream my name. but if you stay quiet…”
his finger slid inside you, then another, stretching you, working you with a fierce, distinct rhythm. he curled them, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. your eyes rolled back, your hips bucking into his hand, the metal muzzle clinking against the pillowcase.
“if you stay quiet, puppy,” he repeated, his voice dripping with dark promise, “i’ll fuck you while you wear it. and every time you try to beg me to go faster, all you’ll taste is my steel. and i will own you.”
he withdrew his fingers abruptly, making you cry out in frustration against the cage. he sat back, his eyes blazing down at you, tracing the way the muzzle left a slight dent on your cheeks, the way your eyes were wide and pleading. he reached down, undoing his slacks with a sharp, quick motion, freeing his cock, leaking, the head slick with anticipation.
he gripped your hips, hauling you up onto your knees, and without warning, he pushed into you. the stretch was perfect— tight, hot, and deep. a strangled whimper echoed from your throat, muffled by the cage. he leaned over you, his chest plastered to your back, his pelvis grinding against your ass.
“fuck, baby,” he hissed, the word bitten out through clenched teeth. “you’re so tight. so fucking perfect.”
he pulled out to the tip, then slammed back in, his hips snapping forward with brutal, rhythmic precision. the bed groaned under the force of his thrusts. he was relentless, chasing his own blind pleasure while dragging yours out with every sharp angle of his hips.
his large hand wrapped around the front of your throat, just resting there, feeling your pulse hammer against the tips of his fingers, below the metal of the muzzle. it was terrifying and wildly arousing. “look at me,” he growled, his voice a broken, desperate rasp.
you managed to turn your head, looking over your shoulder. the sight was surreal; his face was flushed, strained with pleasure, a sheen of sweat on his brow. his golden eyes burned with a primal, unyielding lust, but beneath it, there was a fierce, staggering devotion.
“that’s it,” he breathed, watching you. “give me your eyes. give me all of it. you’re mine. say it with your eyes, baby.”
you couldn’t blink. you held his gaze, your eyes soft, glazed, and completely surrendered. a tear slipped down your cheek, sliding under the edge of the muzzle. the sight of that tear— the proof of your overpowering feeling for him, trapped inside his cage— burned his insides.
his rhythm faltered. his hips started driving into you harder, deeper, almost reverently.
“i can’t—I’m close,” he gasped, his fingers tightening on your hip, pulling you impossibly deeper onto his length. “come with me. fucking come with me.”
you tightened around him, a violent, spasming clench that stole a guttural, ragged groan from his throat. the mask muffled your scream, turning it into a desperate, high-pitched keen that seemed to echo in the metal chamber, vibrating against his face as he leaned down to kiss the crown of it again.
his free hand found your clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles as he pounded into you. the dual assault— the depth, the pressure, the cold cage, the heat of his breath on your neck— sent you hurtling over the edge. your body seized, a silent, convulsive scream caught in your throat as your walls clamped down on him like a vice.
the feeling of you pulsing around him, silent and trembling, was the final trigger. valko let out a deep, guttural roar, his hips locking against yours as he emptied himself inside you with hot, pulsing spurts. he slumped over you, his weight a comfortable, grounding anchor, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your ear.
for a long moment, there was only the sound of the rain and your mingled breathing along with the wet squelch of his hips rocking against yours, slowly, lazily, milking the aftershocks from your body. your heart was a frantic drum in your chest, your mind a fuzzy, white static.
slowly, with shaking hands, valko reached for your head. the latches clicked open. the cool metal lifted from your face, and the sudden rush of cool air against your lips felt like a baptism. he tossed the muzzle aside and immediately cupped your cheeks, turning you to face him.
his thumbs wiped away the tear that had escaped. he kissed your forehead, your nose, and then, gently, your lips— a stark contrast to the savage possession moments before.
“you did so well,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice thick with emotion. “you took it so beautifully. you are beautiful.”
you opened your mouth to speak, but your voice was cracked and raw. “val…”
he shushed you, his forehead resting against yours. “no words needed now. i know,” he breathed, his eyes searching yours, filled with a raw, unguarded vulnerability that he showed to no one else in the world. “i’ll take care of you.”
he pulled you into his arms, wrapping the sheet around both of you as the storm raged on, holding you like you were the only thing in his universe worth protecting. in the cold, metallic heart of the beast, you had found his sole, tender pulse.
alex’s notes: i would say i’m pretty rusty since i haven’t written in a while but fuck did valko make me horny enough to open my notes app RAWRRR
