[d3stroy-me]

~ valentine • she/they • nineteen • full time weirdo

~ daredevil • animal kingdom • the pitt

~ currently writing Benjamin poindexter, Shane maguire , pope Cody , and Jack abbot . (But mainly Dex cuz that’s dada)

~ dddne/taboo occasional writer ask always open - mdni no bigots • don’t like don’t read or just block me

~ Navigation stuff in the tags 🫀

[fangirl-dot-com]

ok so i saw a new article about a therapy dog going to a prison to bring joy to the inmates. and im thinking...therapy dog handler!reader x pope who literally hasnt said a word at folsom until he asks you the name of the dog. and youre kind to him. no one is ever kind to him. so he's like...hm...i like you. and looks forward to your visits every month. until he's released. aw man :c no more doggie. but its ok bce he stalks finds you out in the wild!!

Good Boy

summary: signing yourself and your doberman, cardinal, for folsom state prison's "canines for comfort" program was meant to be a one-time thing. that is until one prisoner doesn't just catch cardinal's attention, but yours as well.

tags: andrew "pope" cody x reader, dog!hander reader, cardinal is weary of men but loves andrew, anti-social, passionate andrew, he falls first and hardest, age gap (28/39), stalking, he's big into collars and the idea of being trained to receive praise and reward/treats, smut (fingering, cunnilingus, sub/bottom!andrew, riding, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia, insane use of "good boy" and handler terms [BUT THIS ISN'T PUPPY ROLE PLAY], piv-unprotected sex, creampie), NSFW 18+ MDNI

notes: once again, everyone can thank @in-ky for this request! will this one be a banger? I sure hope so! beta read by my lovely @oxalaia-quilombensis as always, MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED BUT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! enjoy!

word count: 10.5k

Cardinal’s leash remained firmly gripped in your hand as you followed the guard past the front entrance. His paws pittered-pattered against the tile flooring, echoing in the long hall along with your footsteps. Every so often, his side would brush against your calf before he righted himself only to bump you once again after a few moments. His presence kept you calm; prison—even if you weren’t the one in handcuffs and a jumpsuit—made everyone nervous, and you were no exception. 

If this were any other place, Cardinal would heel frozen at your feet, nose bumping into the flesh of your leg to signal that something deep inside you was unsettled. He wasn’t a certified therapy dog, not after he’d growled too much and refused to give up his toys during training, but the deeply instilled instinct to protect and comfort remained wired into his brain. He’d been a gift from your parents. 

You need something to look after you while you’re off getting your master’s your father had stated before you finally left the coup of your hometown. Since you don’t have a boyfriend, we’ll get you the next best thing. 

And the next best thing happened to be a two-year-old doberman, fresh from failing training, who, upon meeting you, never once left your side. With his baby blue collar and harness, the matching set starkly contrasting his inky coat, he served as your sole protector through the move to Sacramento almost a year ago and apparently now while you walked deeper into the Folsom State Prison’s belly to be a part of their “Canines for Comfort” rehabilitation-slash-rehab program, which had been instated around the time you started year one of school. 

You had signed up and sent in an application on a whim, something to help fill the odd space in your Saturdays a few hours after sleeping in where you weren’t hungry enough for lunch but didn’t want to just sit around twiddling your thumbs. Their approval had come swiftly, and before you knew it, you’d made the hour drive to arrive for your first session. Up ahead, the guard stopped at a plain, gray door that didn’t have a window. 

“With me,” you muttered, and Cardinal sat almost on top of your feet. 

“Session starts in five minutes. There are seats in there; choose one and stay in it during the duration of the thirty minutes,” he gruffed. 

A low groan rumbled down by your feet at his bluntness, and you were quick to hiss a small sht towards your companion. It didn’t take much to get Cardinal to quiet, but even you could tell that the longer you stood there, the more he was getting unnerved. 

Thankfully, the guard tapped a keycard on the lock and the automatic click boomed loudly. He pushed down on the handle before swinging the door wide open to reveal the few people and dogs already in there. You, obviously, were the last one. 

“Up,” you said as you took the first step toward the threshold. 

Cardinal trotted in tandem with your stride and paid no attention to the others in the room, deep eyes locked on your face even if you were looking around. In one corner of the large, almost classroom-like room, an older woman sat with a dopey golden retriever panting at her feet. In the one adjacent, a middle-aged man stood, back pressed to the wall, hand wrapped around a lead that connected to a very sleepy beagle. You thanked the air. If someone got him howling, there’d be no stop. And across the empty corner—the one that you were supposed to “choose” even if it was the only nonoccupied one left—a college-aged girl nervously looked around, fingers fiddling with the hair of her collie that was half sitting in her lap. 

You took the chair. “Feet.” 

With a small pushed out groan, Cardinal plopped down on his stomach, legs out in front of him, head held high. Your left hand splayed across his head while your right kept a hold of his leash. The session was going to be co-ed and only available to prisoners who kept a good rep with impeccable behavior, but that still didn’t do much to calm the lapping wave of anxiety in your stomach. 

Eyeing the guard who stayed by the door, you noted the way he kept his hands next to his weapon. Only the sound of the secondary door on the other side opening got you to look the other way. As the first few prisoners trickled in, wrists held close together with metallic chains, you sat up a bit straighter. A few of them glanced your way, but as you thought, most of them seemed to gravitate toward the . . . friendly looking dogs, especially the golden retriever who looked like he’d never met a stranger. 

Cardinal huffed, sides filling with air before deflating, and his head lowered until it fit between the slots of his feet. You bent at the waist to give his head another small pat and rub. So focused on him, though, you missed the one person approaching you slowly until his feet stopped mere inches away from Cardinal’s. You stayed bent, but your neck craned until your eyes met peered hazel ones that flickered downward and then back to your face. 

You sat up straight, the plastic chair creaking under the sudden change in position, and squared your shoulders. “Hi.” 

The man drenched in God-awful orange didn’t reply. His lips curled in a thin line, and his hands clenched and unclenched near his navel. You watched as he shifted his weight, body tense like he wanted to speak and move but held back. You quickly looked around. If you had another chair, you’d offer it to him, but the only ones seemed to be occupied by the dog owners. 

“Um, there’s not an extra chair, but . . .” you trailed, lip catching between your teeth. “I can always stand up and let you sit or—” 

Still without answering, he started to lower to the ground instead until he was fully seated, legs crossed in front of him. His head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes didn’t look away from Cardinal, yet, he made no motion to reach out and pet him. 

You leaned back down and placed a hand on your dog’s head. “He’s friendly,” you said, hand dragging down his fur. “Might growl at first, but I swear he won’t bite your hand.” You paused before adding, “Unless you have food. Then he might not be able to tell the difference between that and your fingers.” 

A deep feeling in your chest wanted him to crack a smile or actually acknowledge he was being talked to, but when his lips stayed flat, eyes unwavering. He didn’t even flinch when it appeared Cardinal got too impatient to be pet and lifted off the ground to get a closer smell. You smiled as his nose twitched while he carefully inched forward. 

Then, finally, the man reached out before keeping his hand held in the air, letting Cardinal come to him instead of forcing a connection. A small, warning growl accompanied a curled lip to show off his canines, but the man didn’t cower. Almost like he needed your approval as well before fully giving into the outreached hand, Cardinal turned his head back towards you, and you slightly laughed. 

“You big doaf,” you teased. “Go on.” 

That’s all you had to say for Cardinal to dive right into the man’s lap, tongue hanging out of his mouth as his full body wriggled around. The man gave him the most gentle pets you’d ever seen someone do. It made you wonder if he was scared of himself with the way he held back. He stayed firmly upright despite Cardinal jumping around, putting his paws on the man’s chest, and even going around him as far as the leash would allow to nose at his spine before plopping back down into the lap made by criss-crossed-applesauced legs. 

You stayed quiet and watched the two mess around. Because your companion wasn’t the most trusting of men, it’d been a while since you’d seen Cardinal get to rough house around with someone that could take it. You weren’t weak at all, but with the amount of energy stored in that lithe black and brown body, most times you ended up curled in a ball on the floor as he continued relentless play attacks at your sides and back.  

After a few minutes, Cardinal settled fully as he draped himself across the man’s legs, chest rapidly rising and falling in low pants. Big hands continued running down his short coat in long strokes. 

“What’s his name?” 

The sound of his voice caught you off guard, the addition to the small three-way circle so sudden it sent your head reeling before you blinked the stunned feeling away. You tried not to note that he had a nice voice. But it was impossible and slotted in the back of your mind. 

“Cardinal,” you managed to sputter out. 

Definitely not attractive. 

“Cardinal,” he parroted, and the most magic thing followed: the corners of his lips curled barely by a hair. “Nice name.” 

“I’m glad you think so. I originally wanted to go with Bishop, but I knew a guy with that name in high school, and he was a grade-A asshole,” you babbled. “And I think Cardinal fits him much better.” Your fingers fiddled with the leash. “My name’s (Y/n) . . . if you were wondering.” 

He—still the unnamed prisoner—lifted his eyes to meet yours. 

“And you probably weren’t wondering,” you backtracked with a sigh, cheeks heating just a bit under his gaze. 

“(Y/n).” He nodded once. “Nice name.” 

The heat flooded down your neck, and you shyly murmured a thank you. His hazel eyes returned to the puddle of dog between his legs. 

“Can you tell me more about him?” he asked. 

“Oh, sure,” you responded, shifting in your seat as though this were an interview. “He just turned three last week, but I swear he still thinks he’s a puppy. His favorite toy is a stuffed white puppy; he literally cannot sleep without it. Um, we do bite work every Monday night, and then advanced protection on Thursdays. And—” 

“All right, that’s it for today,” a low voice near the exit door cut you off, and it was as if a switch had been turned off in the man. 

The barely-there breath of a smile dropped instantly, and his back went rigid, hands stopping along near Cardinal’s ribs before ripping away back to his lap. Confused at the lack of pets, Cardinal stood back up and nose nudged near his jaw, but the man was already pushing up from the floor. 

You also stood up once he got to full height. “Well, it was nice meeting you . . .” 

He glanced over to where the prisoners were already lining up before quietly offering, “Andrew.” 

You repeated him just as quiet. A small secret shared. Two names for one; something to hold onto until the next time. 

“Thank you for sitting with us,” you said. “He really likes you.” 

As though to reinforce your statement, Cardinal all but put his snout into the space between Andrew’s shackled hands, squeezing a soft whine into the air. 

“Cody!” the guard barked. “In line.” 

Andrew tensed before slowly turning around without a second glance back to you, and just like that, it was only you, the other three dog owners, and the one guard who led you in left in the room. The moment the door locked shut with the prisoners on the other side, the three hounded in on you, questions pouring from their mouths. 

“How on earth did you do that?” the older lady asked above the others. 

Your brows pinched tightly. “Do what?” 

Her eyes flickered towards the door. “I’ve been here for five sessions, and not once has that man interacted with a dog much less the person as well. He never spoke and stood to the side like a creep.” 

A warning grumble reverberated from Cardinal just as you scoffed. 

“Maybe he just didn’t find anyone quiet enough to feel comfortable to approach,” you said, quick to defend the man who hadn’t even said twenty words to you in a span of the thirty minute session. “Go time,” you said before stepping away from the group with Cardinal right on your heels, falling back into a perfectly matched rhythm. 

Before even going into the session, you had wondered if this was going to be your first and final attendance, but when the sun shown brightly and warmed your skin and Cardinal pulled lightly on his leash, acting like he wanted to go back inside and sniff Andrew out, you decided that next week, you’d get back into your car and make the hour commute again. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

With more anticipation than the last time, your knee bounced rapidly as you waited for the prisoners to trickle through into the room. You kept your eyes glued, and if someone had pointed it out, you would have realized that you and Cardinal had the same look: something yearning and waiting and excitement all jumbled and stuffed into your bodies. People did say that owners somehow picked dogs that looked like them without even realizing. 

You hadn’t even made Cardinal sit nicely at your feet again, and his little nubbed tail swished back and forth with a fast viciousness only saved for his favorite people, the list usually being just you. But now, you guessed Andrew’s name was right under yours. 

At the sound of the door being unlocked, you subconsciously leaned forward. The first few prisoners stepped out, and your breathing stopped as you mentally calculated how many were coming in. To keep everyone from being overwhelmed, only a handful of prisoners were allowed in, and you prayed that Andrew would be the next to step through the threshold. 

The corners of your lips curled upward when you finally spotted him in the mix, hair still cropped, hands still shackled, but unlike last week, he seemed more interested in what was going on. It only took him a moment to turn his face towards your small corner, and Cardinal let out a small happy yelp when he started to walk over. You allowed his leash to go slack enough to let him meet Andrew halfway, backside moving back and forth since his tail seemed to not be able to keep up. 

Andrew tried not to trip on the dog, keeping his eyes downward and his steps careful until he reached the spot where he sat the last time. His knees creaked just a bit as he lowered down to the ground and kept his feet out straight. Immediately, Cardinal hopped into his lap, rolling stomach up, the universal ask for belly rubs. 

With both hands, he started scratching along his soft under-belly coat. 

“Hi again,” you said gently. 

“Hi,” he greeted back even if he didn’t look up at you. “He seems happy.” 

“Oh, you have no idea. I could barely get him to sit in the car on the way over here. I think he missed you the entire week,” you said. 

His brows furrowed. “I’ve only met him once.” 

You shrugged before leaning down to drop the leash fully knowing Cardinal wasn’t going to dart at all. “That’s all it takes for a dog to decide if you’re their new favorite person or their arch nemesis for the rest of time.” 

“Oh.” He frowned, deeply thinking of what he’d done to be on the receiving end of such excitement from an animal. “That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” Your growing smile stretched until your teeth showed. “Plus, he loves scratches and love pats, and you seem to be doing a pretty good job.” 

Andrew noticed that his hands had moved on from scratching to gently patting along Cardinal’s ribs in rhythmic motions. His mind raced to what the two of you had been talking about the last time before the session had ended. Normally, he wouldn’t be so invested in a person and dog, but there was something about the way you looked so soft yet fierce while your canine looked fierce while Cardinal didn’t hesitate to jump into his lap. 

“You said he did bite work?” 

“What?” you asked. 

His chin tilted downward, and he looked up at you through his eyebrows. “Last time. You said he did bite work.” 

“Oh yeah,” you breathed before giggling to yourself. “He has a lot of energy that can’t all be burned out from just going to a dog park or going for a run. So the moment I moved here, I looked into places that had training courses for him to go through. Plus it’s helpful.” 

“Helpful?” he echoed. 

“Yeah, ya know . . . if I ever get attacked or some guy comes after me.” You leaned down and settled a hand near Andrew’s on Cardinal's back. “He protects me.” 

“Has that ever happened before?” Andrew suddenly asked, almost personally confused as to why he did. 

The sessions weren’t supposed to be chat hours. He knew the prison offered this to get him to be more docile. If he didn’t attack the dogs, maybe he’d learn not to attack or hit others. This plus the meds they’d been giving him, he wasn’t sure how trusting he could be, and asking questions about your wellbeing was the complete opposite of being on the offense. 

Your eyes glanced down before you leaned back into the seat. “Once after I first moved. I don’t live on campus—I’m here to finish my masters—and after class, this one guy followed me home. I don’t know exactly why; I’d never seen him before, but he tried to corner me near my door. I had just gotten it open when he tried to grab me, and Cardinal came rushing out the door.” 

The more you talked, the more rage built in Andrew’s chest, simmering just below his skin. And instead of questioning why he felt this way, he gave into the feeling and clenched his hands. However, Cardinal, the everknowing soul, felt the change in him right away, and Andrew wasn’t ready for him to stand and press his cold nose into the side of his neck, huffing loudly near his ear. 

You laughed quietly after seeing how still Andrew had become, confusion on what to do next. Your fingers quickly found the dropped leash on the ground, but before you could give Cardinal a small tug, Andrew shook his head. 

“He’s okay,” he murmured. 

A wave of sadness crashed over you as you watched him try to wrap his arms around Cardinal but failed since the cuffs kept his wrists together. 

Maybe one day once he’s out, he can give Cardinal a full hug quickly flashed through your mind, to which you quickly shook your head to get rid of it. Once Andrew was out, he would disappear from your and Cardinal's life entirely. 

One glance toward the clock on the wall told you that only ten minutes remained for the session, and your heart clenched. The thirty minutes weren’t enough. 

“What are you in school for?” Andrew asked after a quiet moment, arms finally wrapped awkwardly around Cardinal’s neck, basically using him as an arm wrest. 

“Behavior sciences. I like knowing how people tick,” you replied. “Everyone acts differently, but I believe that at our base, we all have a need and want to be liked. It’s human nature to want to please. Kinda like dogs.” 

“Is that why you signed up for this?” he spat the last word. 

“A little. I think I wanted to find a way to help people since school doesn’t give me time to do extra volunteer hours during the week,” you provided. “I mean, one of our assignments was to find an outlet that could help, and I found Folsom’s application online.” 

“Oh.” 

“But,” you swiftly kept going, “we only had to go once for the grade.” 

Andrew looked back up at you. “Then why are you here?” 

“Well, Cardinal seemed to really like this one guy we met last week,” you teased, and he finally gave you more than a hint of a smile, lips pulling outward until lines appeared. 

“Just him?” 

You pretended to think, eyes looking upward to the ceiling. “Hmmmm, maybe not just Cardinal. I think I liked talking to the guy too.” 

A rosyness bloomed across Andrew’s face. 

You liked talking to him? Probably the first time someone ever said that, and his first instinct was a desperate want to hear you say it again. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

For the next two years, you always faithfully showed up to the sessions. During that time, you’d gotten to know some about Andrew’s life outside of the concrete walls. You learned that he was a twin, he had two younger brothers and an older adopted brother, whose wife he used to love, and that his father had died before he was born. 

He enjoyed skateboarding whenever he could get away from his mom. If he had a slow evening, he liked to listen to nature documentaries on the TV. He told you about his arrest, though barely giving you full details but enough that you decided he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons. Every time he spoke, you listened with intent, wanting to soak up any knowledge about the man you’d come to look forward to seeing every Saturday afternoon. 

In return, you told him about your own life. Unlike him, you were an only child, parents still living and married together. You were twenty-five; fifteen years his junior. Your favorite color was green despite Cardinal’s leash and halter being blue—he’d picked it out himself you told him through a fit of giggles. You confessed that after college, you really didn’t have a plan for your life, and that you preferred to go with the flow to see where you ended up. 

And somewhere along the way, untold to either, you both felt a certain care for the other. 

Andrew had felt drawn to you the moment you had told him that you liked that he was quieter and softer than the others, that he didn’t try to talk over you and remembered the smallest things you’d said. And every time you gave him a compliment like the time you mentioned hazel eyes were your favorite hues and that you enjoyed looking at them, his heart yearned for you a little bit more to the point he started being first in line for the sessions to get the smallest handful of seconds longer in your presence. 

You, on the other hand, started feeling something for him when he quietly defended Cardinal. One of the newer volunteers who started coming around five weeks after you started had loudly proclaimed that a Doberman wasn’t fit to be a therapy dog. You’d wanted to shut his comment down, protest that Cardinal had been approved just as his yappy, little rat Chihuahua had when Andrew slowly stood, faced the man, and berated him in front of everyone. You’d been scared that he’d get reprimanded, but the guards never did a thing.  

Through these small moments and honest conversations, Saturdays became both of your favorite days of the week. 

Well . . . that was until a random Saturday almost two years after you’d first signed up. 

The entire drive over, you were excited to tell Andrew that you’d passed your exams, meaning that graduation would be right around the corner for you. The second bit of exciting news was that you’d been offered a three-year contract for a job in Sacramento. You’d get to stay close, see him more often if he let you. School wouldn’t be in the way. 

Cardinal could sense your excitement in the air, and he matched your energy the entire way into Folsom. He bounded around your feet, not even listening to your small commands and corrections. Once inside, you were the first to take a seat, Cardinal finally sitting next to the chair like normal. 

The door unlocked, and the first few prisoners walked through, and your heart began to race. However, after the fifth and sixth prisoner, with Andrew not in sight, your stomach backflipped before sinking when the door closed. 

Andrew hadn’t made it through. There must have been a mistake. 

You pushed off the metal chair—the plastic one had broken during one of the sessions where Cardinal managed to push you off and down to his and Andrew’s level—and approached one of the guards. 

“Excuse me,” you meekly said, tensing under the man’s steeled gaze. “I’m wondering if Andrew Cody couldn’t make it today. Is he doing okay?”

“Sorry to tell you, but he was released a couple days ago.” 

You swallowed thickly. “What? He said he had another three to go—” 

“Got out on good behavior. Guess the Canine-Comfort thing did its job. Never seen such a violent man turn into someone normal.” 

A sneer pinched your face, and you had to fight the urge to tell him off that Andrew was always normal. A little lost in life, but he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t violent . . . at least towards you. But you found it hard to believe after being around him and his kindness for two full years, seeing nothing but the gentleness he gave you. 

You turned and looked around the room before looking back at the guard. “Am I able to leave early?” 

Quietly and quickly, he opened the door for you to slip through, and as you walked through the empty hall, Cardinal whined loudly. 

“I know, bud, I know,” you whispered. “I’m going to miss him too.”  

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Never once had you slipped Andrew’s mind, not even as a year passed since the last time he’d seen you and Cardinal. He hadn’t even known that the session before he got released was going to be the final time, and if he had, he probably would have done something reckless like tell you to find him once he got out. 

But the way he had to leave without even getting to say goodbye tore at his chest whenever you crossed his mind or when he saw a doberman walking on the street. If he imagined hard enough, he could morph whoever to have your soft hair and your sweet smile that Andrew believed to only be reserved for him. Distance made the heart grow fonder, but the longer he was away from you, the more his fondness turned into obsession. He looked for you in every aspect, and before he knew it, he was typing your name into his computer. 

To his chagrin, only your past references would ever be brought up in the search engine. He did see that you had graduated a few months after his release, but that meant that you were probably long gone by then. Andrew cursed himself. He hadn’t even told you where he lived. 

From then on, he learned to curb his wants and desires for you, only giving in under the cover of night. He’d imagine your voice next to his ear, your weight over his bare chest, fingers dragging down his pecs and abs as your hips rocked against his. His hand would dip below his shorts into his boxers, cock already hard and straining by the time he wrapped his hand around the length. His soft, warm shaft would already be wet and slick with precum. With tantalizing strokes and bucking pelvis, it wouldn’t take him long to cum in his pants by the mere thought of how you’d taste on his tongue.  

What really got him spurting though was when, instead of hearing moans and whimpers from your lips, he’d envision you giving him soft commands as you did to Cardinal. A down here, a speak there, a bite down as he filled you completely. And above all, he’d whimper hearing you give him a good boy if he managed to please and do what you’d asked. 

In the haze of orgasm before clarity would command his senses once again, he’d reach for his phone and google harnesses and leashes for people, only to swipe the tab away the next morning with burning cheeks. 

Though, those moments started to spread far and few between as his mother began to commandeer his life once again. But after he found out she’d been drugging his food, he left. Put the whole life behind him. 

He stayed close to Oceanside in case his brothers needed something, but the life of Pope Cody, criminal under his mother’s thumb, was over. With any hope of finding you again keeping his heart beating, he changed. Got a job—one that gave him money the legal way. Started skateboarding again. You’d be proud of him, at least, he believed you’d be proud of him. 

It wasn’t until one Saturday morning that his reason for life walked right on by without even stopping. 

He nearly fell off his skateboard, because there you were, tan and glowing under the sun. You looked a bit older, not as soft as he once knew you, but the world worked in funny ways like that. It dangled what you wanted the most after they’d been changed. And as he watched you walk away, Cardinal at your side, he wanted to say something—scream something, but he stayed silent. For as much as he begged to see you again, here was no telling if you'd actually wanted the same. 

So, Andrew stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean he stayed still. After you’d walked on a few feet, he fell into your invisible footprints along the sand-specked sidewalk. You were none the wiser, earbuds letting music flow too loudly to hear the outside world. He would have to have a discussion with you about that. There was only so much Cardinal could do if you were attacked unsuspectingly. Not knowing your surroundings terrified him to his core. 

He followed you for around thirty minutes, enjoying the walk along the way but also enjoying being around you after so long. His eyes trailed your back and the way your shoulder blades and muscles shifted beneath the tank top draped over your torso. The hazel hues lingered at the bottom hem that lifted with each step, revealing more of your ass that was perfectly sculpted by the tight green leggings. 

You only stopped when you reached a small white house and used a key to waltz in, and Andrew’s stomach clenched. You’d been living here. You’d only been less than an hour away this entire time. He could have had you sooner. 

But now? Now he knew where you lived. Someplace he could come to when you weren’t there. A home that you could possibly invite him in at some point. However, he wasn’t about to waste anymore time away from you. 

The next time he was out skating, he didn’t stay long, choosing to follow the memorized path back to your house. It wasn’t his fault you left a second key under a false rock, and it wasn’t his fault that you were out and about. He noted that you desperately needed a security system once he realized there was a lack of cameras. 

His footsteps were soft as he walked through the hallway and into the living room. The air smelled like a mix of your perfume—vanilla and salt air—and clean dog shampoo. Even if every aspect of your home held evidence that Cardinal lived there too in toys and the bed near the couch, he was grateful you kept it clear of dog hair. 

He moved on toward your bedroom and stopped in the threshold as though the space he was about to enter was too holy for him and his dirty soul. His eyes scanned each inch from your curtain choice to your bedspread: green gingham with white pillows. However, a sprawled piece of navy fabric caught his attention, and he gave into the urge to walk over. It wasn’t until he picked it up that he realized what it was. 

His large fingers fiddled with the lacy part of your underwear, thumb running along the hem before stopping at the gusset. There was no dampness, no leftover scent from what he could tell; the pair was clean, and that wouldn't do at all. He carefully laid it back down, spreading it as though he never picked it up in the first place and turned direction. 

Your closet was his next victim. His lower half peeked out around the door as he dug through the hamper of your dirty clothes. Your scent was thicker here. Not as sweet, but even more so addicting as it wafted upwards to his face. A small moan crawled up his throat, the sound echoing in your empty bedroom. 

However, as he continued digging around, he didn’t hear the soft sound of your door clicking shut or your footsteps as you walked in his direction. 

For one split second, you were terrified to see half of a man sticking out of your closet. Cardinal was currently at his handlers for one-on-one time; your one protector was gone the moment you needed him most. And yet, when the man pulled back, revealing the face of the man you’d been dreaming about for a year, your soul settled enough to let you watch what he did next. 

In his hands, yesterday's thong dangled between his thick fingers before he slowly brought it up to his nose. Your eyes stayed trained on his chest as it inflated deeply and a groan rumbled right out of it. Something inside you warmed at the scene even if you should have been calling the police. 

You shoved your hands into your pockets when he took another deep breath in and decided it was time to make your presence known. 

“You know,” you said, making Andrew’s eyes widen and hands drop to his sides. “If you missed me this much, you could have approached me normally. Unless this is your way of showing exactly what you’ve been wanting to do since we parted ways?” 

Your thong fell to the floor in a heap, and a redness crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks. He felt frozen, glued to the floor, unable to move even an inch under your hungry gaze. Your head tilted slightly when he made no move, made no attempt to apologize or explain what he was doing. 

“Andrew, come here,” you stated, slightly joking. 

However, your words seemed to light something in his mind, and he quickly walked over to you in large strides until mere inches were left between your chest and his. He wasn’t much taller than you exactly, but he had a few good bit above you where you had to look up. His shoulders, though, felt larger, and you bet you’d fit right into his chest with enough of him left to curl around you. 

Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine. 

Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek. Instantly, he leaned into your palm. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed. 

But an apology wasn’t what you were looking for. 

“I asked you a question, Andrew,” you restated. “Have you been thinking about me?” His jaw dropped before clamping back shut. The hand at his cheek traveled upwards and tangled into his grown-out curls. “C’mon; speak. Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

He swallowed loudly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “I’ve . . . I’ve wanted you.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “For how long?” 

“Since Folsom. Since you said you liked hearing me speak.” 

A small part of you shattered. “That long?” 

He nodded, hair pulling slightly in your grasp. “That long. But then I left. Couldn’t find you after that.” 

“Well, now you’ve found me. What are you going to do about it, Andrew?” 

At his sides, his hands clenched like they did the first time you met him, and somehow, it clicked to you that this was his tell, his silent plea for someone to help him do what he wanted. You’d done it before; when you first offered your chair for him to sit down only for him to take the ground instead. But here he was, looking at you with expecting eyes as he waited oh so patiently for your next direction. 

Your fingers curled deeper into his roots, and the pressure drew a sigh from deep in his lungs. 

“Poor Andrew,” you cooed. “Can’t do anything unless I tell you to.” 

“Please,” he whined. 

“Okay, okay.” Your eyes met his, the hazel almost completely covered by his blown out pupils. “Down.” 

As soon as the command hit his brain, neurons firing for him to obey, obey, obey, he fell to the floor, knees crashing down in one fluid motion. His face pressed into your navel, and his hands finally planted themselves on your hips. You took two steps back until your spine molded against the wall, and Andrew shuffled forward to follow. 

“Take off my pants and underwear,” you breathed. 

His fingers gripped both hems and pulled downward until the fabric puddled at your feet. It took every ounce of self control that Andrew had left to not shove his face between your thighs and breathe you in. 

Slowly, you lifted your right leg, using the wall as support, and rested it over his shoulder. Your cunt was now in full display, less than an inch from his nose. He slightly leaned forward, but you held his head in place by his hair. 

“Did I tell you to go ahead?” you questioned with lidded eyes. 

He shook his head, looking more guilty than he had when you’d caught him with your underwear under his nose after he’d broken into your home. 

“Good boys do as they’re told, Andrew.” 

“‘M sorry,” he whimpered. 

“Do you want to be a good boy?” 

“Yes,” he answered almost before you’d even finished the question. “Yes. I wanna be . . .” His words died in his mouth, and your brows pinched. 

“Go on, baby. Tell me what you wanna be.” 

He huffed, a sound that reminded you of when Cardinal didn’t want to do as told. 

“. . . wanna be your good boy.” 

An elated expression morphed your face with raised eyebrows and a small smile. 

“Then show me what your tongue can do and lick.” 

Like a tightly coiled spring, he launched forward, face diving into your cunt all at once. His chin rubbed along your already dampened folds as his tongue began to lap mindlessly at the sensitive space between your clit and your entrance. While that felt good, you needed him higher. 

“Slow,” you managed to get out while your fingers used his curls to direct him. When the flat of his tongue ran along your clit, white, zinging pleasure shot up your spine. “There. Right—fuck—there, Andrew.” 

Under your hand, Andrew learned quickly, eagerly doing just as you told him. He kept his hands in place while he traded tonguing your throbbing bundle of nerves and licking at your fluttering hole, your taste seeping into his mouth. He hoped that it would stick, that when he fantasized about you next, he’d be able to swallow the lingering taste. 

“Fingers,” you panted once ecstasy settled warmly in your navel and your thighs began to tighten around his head. You’d played with yourself enough to know exactly what you needed, and since meeting Andrew, his thick fingers had been a craving during your lapses of self pleasure. “Use your fingers.” 

Andrew’s right hand slowly dragged downward across your hip and slightly under where his lips stayed connected to your clit as he sucked it between his teeth. Using his pointer finger, he prodded at your hole, fingertip barely breaching you before sliding right in. 

A strangled moan ripped from deep in your throat at the feeling. One of his fingers felt like two of yours, the stretch delicious and borderline painful in sweet tantalizing pressure. 

“Andrew!” you whined, head tilting back, throat bared to the ceiling. Your hips canted upwards into his face and finger, desperately searching for something more. “Move.” 

He dragged his fingertip along your walls, memorizing every soft ridge until his soaked digit cooled slightly before thrusting it back in. Your cunt clenched tightly around it. 

“Hmmmm—fuck!” you keened when he managed to reach a particularly deep part of you that had only been accessible with a toy. “Oh, shit, fucking—Andrew!” 

The sound of you calling his name had his cock straining even more against his pants. He’d never admit it, but his cock had already started swelling the moment he inhaled your heady scent from your thong. But now, hearing your whimpers and half-croaked moans that tangled his name, he needed to get some pressure off, or he was going to cum untouched. 

You’d been so distracted with his finger and tongue that you failed to notice the first jerk of his hips against your shin. But when he did it a second time and then a third, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

“Are you—fuck—are you humping my leg?” you asked. 

Andrew stilled against you, and you swallowed a moan. You could feel how hard he was against your skin, how large his cock was, even with being restrained by two layers of fabric. 

“I’m sor—“ He choked on a moan when your leg rose slightly and pressed into his bulge. He hunched slightly at the waist, face pulling back from your cunt, cheek resting against your thigh with eyes pinched tightly. 

It’d been so long since someone touched him, and your approval of letting him use your body for his own pleasure made the fire in his stomach build and roar. 

“Go on,” you muttered before pushing back his sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Hump my leg like a fucking mutt, but don’t you dare cum, Andrew.”  

He nodded mindlessly, and his hips began to rock once again in slow, dragged out motions. You left him to his pleasure for a few moments before tugging his face back into your core. 

“Get back to licking like you know how to do,” you commanded even if you were just as pathetically holding onto strings as he was. “Add another finger and make me cum all over your face.” 

You kept your leg as steady as you could manage while Andrew started licking and nibbling at your folds and stiff clit with renewed fervor. His pointer was soon joined with his middle, the delicious stretch even tighter than before. And when his hips jerked, a groan vibrated through your folds, almost sending you right over the edge. 

“An-Andrew,” you gasped, overwhelmed with his fingers and tongue working in tandem to make you cum. “C-curl—fucking, I’m—curl your fingers upwards—oh!” Your elongated moan turned into whine when his fingertips managed to brush directly at your g-spot, and stars dotted your vision. “That’s—Andreeewww—feels so—I’m gonna cum!” 

Andrew kept humping your shin in methodical thrusts, careful to heed your words and hold back the urge to cum. From below, he lifted his eyes, gaze running up your stomach to your pinched face. He wanted to see what you looked like when you came undone, to see if he obeyed correctly. His lips puckered, and he sucked your clit between them, the tip of his tongue kitten liking the bud as he curled his fingers again. His fingers massaged that small, spongy spot, and the next moment, your thighs clamped down on his ears. 

“Cumming—fuck!” you moaned, torso bending over Andrew’s head, hips jerking absentmindedly to seek out as much pleasure as possible. 

Your walls rhythmically clenched around his two fingers, and your arousal dripped down to his knuckles. A shudder wracked through your entire being when the bliss started morphing into overstimulation. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimpered. “Enough.” 

Andrew licked from your fluttering hole up to your clit once last time before pulling back to sit on his calves.  Already half-lidded, your eyes fluttered closed, and your head felt back with a soft thunk as you tried to catch your breath, mind reeling and fuzzy. Down by your knees, a slurping sound echoed in the room, and your eyes ripped open in time to see Andrew hollow his cheeks around his fingers. 

Once your chest fell into a softer rhythm, you looked down at him. “Andrew.” He paused, fingers halfway in his mouth, and looked up. “Up.” 

He pushed off the ground without a second thought and stood to his full height, but his eyes were no longer on you. The blown-out pupils were fixated on a spot just over your shoulder, and when he noticed you’d caught on, he quickly shifted them back to your face. However, your curiosity wouldn’t let you forget, and you looked toward the wall near your face, eyes widened when you realized what he’d been looking at with a yearning look: one of Cardinal’s choke chains that you used specifically for obedience training, its gold links beaming and glinting under your gaze. 

You turned back to face him. “Pants and shirt off.” 

At lightning speed, he shucked both clothing articles off before neatly folding and setting them on the edge of your bed. A certain soft type of fondness that made you want to keep him forever filled your chest. You raked over his body with a hungry look, letting your eyes linger on the outline of his abs and happy trail that dipped into the waistline of his boxers before lowering down to his thick thighs. 

“Good,” you praised, and his chest puffed out ever so slightly. “Now . . . sit on the bed.” 

He turned without thinking and walked until his knees hit the edge before slowly lowering until his ass rested on top of your duvet. As he did so, you had also turned around, but in the opposite direction to grab the choke chain from the hook. Its weight settled heavily in your palm, the loop swinging as it dangled. 

When you looked up from it toward Andrew, he was already eyeing the chain as well with interest as well as apprehension. 

You held the special collar in the air. “Do you want me to use this on you, Andrew?” 

He swallowed thickly, and his head bobbed. 

You gave him a sharp sht. “Speak.” 

“Yes,” he sighed breathily. “Please.” 

Instead of answering, you rewarded him by walking over to stand between his spread legs, your thighs brushing and resting between his. Slowly, you fed the chain through the one hoop, allowing the hooped part to loosen and spread. The small links shinked against their metal counterparts, and the sound sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine. 

As you would do with Cardinal, you lowered the open-feed loop until it swallowed his head before drooping around his neck. You let it rest against his skin, let him get used to the cool metal as it drew in his radiating body heat. 

“There,” you whispered. “You look so good in a collar, Andy.” 

His brows pinched tightly, and he locked his confused eyes onto yours. “Andy?” 

You nodded. “Every good boy needs a nickname.” Your left pointer finger hooked through the end ring and pulled lightly, making Andrew follow the lead until his face stopped right next to yours. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he was quick to answer this time. “Yes, please. For a long time.” 

You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against his lips before muttering, “Crawl up the bed and sit against the headboard.” 

The end ring slipped from your finger and landed in the divot between his pecs. Without turning away from you, Andrew used his arms to pull himself farther up the bed, biceps bulging under his weight until he got into the position you wanted him to be in. Seeing that he settled himself, you pulled your shirt off before your bra followed suit. 

Almost instantly, your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and you swore a drop of drool escaped the side of Andrew’s lips. Your knees sunk first into the mattress, and then your hands. You slowly crawled over the bed, never looking away from him even as you partly straddled his thighs. He huffed out a soft whine when your nails scraped against his stomach and caught on his boxers. 

“Let’s get these off. Lift up,” you said. 

Andrew’s hips rose off the bed, giving you enough room to pull the black fabric down. The hem dragged down inch by inch in a teasing manner until his cock was fully revealed. You paused to watch it bob upward against his lower navel, and the heavy girth of it tilted the head to the side as it swayed. Your walls clenched around nothing; your cunt ached for it to fill you to the brim. 

Your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you all but ripped his boxers off the rest of the way, flinging them behind you to join your own pile of clothes. For a split second, you wondered if he wanted you to fold them like he had with his shirt and pants, but with the way he was looking at you . . . you could tell he didn’t mind them being wrinkled on the floor. 

Hesitantly, you reached out and trailed your finger down the vein on the underside of his length, his cock jolting and spurting a bead of precum when you reached the thick base. His hands, lying next to his thighs, once again began to rhythmically clench into fists. 

You shuffled forward more into his lap, one hand gripping his cock while the other took a hold of the dangling end of the choke chain. Your movements paused so you could slide his ruddy tip through your soaked folds, drawing moans from both of you. 

A small upward tilt of his hips had you pulling back and hand tightening the chain around his neck in a warning. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Stay.” 

When he stilled under you, you slowly positioned back over his cock until the head notched at your opening once the length was thoroughly soaked with your sticky arousal. But even just the first breach felt like you were being split open, and the breath from your lungs ripped up your throat. Andrew’s head tilted back, and his eyes fell shut as his face pinched. 

In a tormenting pace, you inched yourself down onto his cock, walls clenching and relaxing at the thick intrusion. Your fingers never left the chain as you pushed your hand into Andrew’s chest for stability. And never once did he move under you. 

“You f-feel so big, Andy,” you whimpered when he was around halfway in. “Biggest cock I’ve ever ha-had.” 

A groan rumbled through his chest, and his eyes finally opened back up so he could watch your face twitch with pleasure. Your back arched during the last few inches, and a high pitched whine crawled up your throat once he was fully sheathed, his tip digging into spots you didn’t know could be reached. You swore he was up in your throat, and one glance down to the swell in your abdomen almost made you cum right then and there. 

Without moving much, you blindly reached down, fingers finding purchase in his wrist to raise his hand to span across your stretched skin.   

“You feel that, Andy?” you questioned. “That’s you. So, so, so deep inside me. Reaching all those places I can’t even get to.” Your chin dipped so you could look at him and into his glossy eyes. 

In languid rocks, you began to lift off his cock in shallow motions, his length barely pulling out before you dropped back down, cunt fully engulfing him. Your knees deeply dug into the mattress on either side of his hips, and your breasts slightly bounced as you started to quicken your up and down grinds. When your pelvises met, the coarse hairs that hid the base of his cock added needed stimulation to your clit with a tantalizing texture. 

After finding a good rhythm that danced between harsh downward sitting and slow dragging to feel his cock run across every ridge of your walls, you moaned, “Andrew. You can move. Fuck me, baby; fuck me like a good boy.” 

Large, calloused hands planted themselves on your hips, and Andrew began to meet your thrusts halfway, his grip helping aid you to slide along his length. On a particularly punchy roll, your body jolted, and your hand yanked on the chain to tighten the loop around Andrew's neck. The gold links dug into the sides of his pretty, freckled skin, and put pressure on his pulse points. 

You watched as his eyes grew hazy, mouth dropping to draw in labored breaths. After a few seconds, you loosened the chain, and some resemblance of cognitivity returned to his hazel hues. 

“You like that?” you asked, pulling your hips up only to drop them back down to pull a whimper from Andrew. “You like being choked? You look so hot under me, Andy. Letting me use you for my own pleasure.” 

“Use me,” he parroted. “Use me, please. I want to be goodhnnggg—” 

“Use you?” You yanked the chain again, cutting off his words to bring that fuzzy pleasure back to the front of his brain. “Oh, I will, but I need you to stay for me. Can you do that?” 

This time you held the chain taut for longer and started rolling your hips again. You kept the chain at a safe tightness, making sure not to pull it and completely cut off his air. But the longer you held it tightly, and the more Andrew’s eyes fluttered, you noticed how glossy they were becoming until the first tear slid down the side of his face. 

Your cunt constricted around his cock at the sight, and you dropped the chain out of a strange mix of surprise and concern as you quivered above him.

“Hey,” you softly said, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere?” 

The last thing you wanted was to accidentally hurt Andrew, and while the sight of him crying did unspeakable things to your insides, you needed to make sure he was alright before continuing. 

“Good,” he croaked once he realized that you’d stopped, eyes hooded and mouth agape as he stared up at you. “So good. Not hurt.” 

His left hand rose and covered yours and gently guided your fingers back to the loop that rested hotly between his pecs. He finagled the ring back into your hand and gave a soft tug against it.

 “Again—again, please,” he begged pathetically, timber filled with desperation. “Don’t stop.” 

“Oh, Andy,” you cooed as your hips started to rock again. “So, so good for me.” 

You slightly curled the dangling chain around your pinky before holding the rest tightly against your palm and tugged. A strangled moan fell from Andrew’s parted lips, and the sheer sound had you involuntarily clenching around his cock. Another tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and his chest stuttered under gasping breaths. He looked so beautiful like this: crying underneath the pleasure only you could give him. When his tears started falling more freely along with the whimpers from his mouth, your hips worked harder and faster, rising and falling to stuff yourself to the brim. 

Using his chest to balance, you dipped your head to get in closer until the small puffs of his hot breath fanned against your nose. You placed a small kiss to the corner of his parted lips before your tongue darted out to lap at the streaming tears. The small tang of salt was addicting, and it only made you want to see him sob. 

“Fuck!” Andrew cried out, hips bucking upwards as you gave your hardest pull yet, the chain constricting around his throat tightly, and you hoped there’d be a pretty bruise-shaped necklace to show for it. 

You clicked your tongue against your teeth, abruptly stopping all movement. Your unoccupied hand reached out and closed around his jaw, lifting and shaking his head to coax his eyes back open and make them focus on you. 

“What did I say?” you asked, tone deep, face inches from his. 

Andrew’s mouth flopped open, and he floundered for an answer even if all words seemed to escape him. The only expression he could muster was a dumb little thing, brows furrowed, corners of his lips tugged downward in a pout. 

You feigned disappointment and shook your head. Your hand left his jaw in order to take a new hold of the choke chain and loop. “Ya’ know, Andy, good dogs follow orders.” 

“No, no—” His hands scrambled, darting between the chain, your hands, and your hips like he didn’t know where to touch or even if he could touch. “Please, please. ‘M good—swear I’m good; ‘m your good boy.” 

“Then what did I say?” You ground down into his hip as hard as you could, and you relished in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?” 

“Then what did I say?” You squeezed your walls around him as hard as you possibly could, relishing in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”

“Stay!” His chest heaved. “You told me to stay!” 

“Good boy,” you murmured, other hand coming up to gently brush his fallen curls from his forehead. He went crosseyed to track your movements. “My good boy.”

“Y-your good boy,” he stuttered.

Two fingers from your right hand hooked into the ring, and two fingers from your left slid between his lips, fingertips settling in the middle of his tongue. You tugged, and his lips closed around your digits, suckling softly as you found the perfect rhythm to drive the head of his cock into the soft, sensitive spots inside you. 

Each draw back made a wet, squelching sound, your inner thighs and his base already soaked with your essence. Your walls clenched and held around his cock, desperate to keep him in and hold him inside. 

“Doing—fuck—doing so well f’r me, Andy,” you slurred. The pleasure pit in your stomach was quickly tightening, and you knew you were so close to cumming, but there was just something missing. 

Andrew hadn’t moved since you told him the second time to stay still, but that’s not what you wanted at all anymore. In one fluid motion, you tilted to the side and used the momentum to flip you both. At the feeling of turning over, Andrew’s eyes popped wide open. His cock hadn't even slipped out, length still buried inside you. Your hips continued softly rocking against him, but the new position had somehow made him reach deeper. 

“C’mon, Andy,” you moaned when he shifted forward to put his hands on both sides of your face to tower over you. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You gave the chain a yank to emphasize your wants, and Andrew was quick to comply. 

His hips drew back before kicking forward, and your legs twitched at the force. Every thrust had your spine digging and pushing up the bed and your mouth opening for wanton moans to fill his ears. At his shoulder, your nails dug into his skin and worked with the tight chain to keep him against you. 

Andrew’s hazel eyes shifted along your face, gazing at how he was going to bring you over the edge from his cock alone. When your moans began to change into high-pitched songs that broke halfway through choked gasps, he sat up slightly and placed his hands under your legs to push them up until the tops of your thighs brushed against your breasts. 

“Oh—oh! Fucking—Andrew!” you mewled, head tipping back to push into the pillow. “So fucking deep—fucking me so well! Gonna make me cum!” 

With a fire lit in his stomach, his hips pistoned against you with wet plaps, stilling momentarily to grind and let his tip rut into your soft spot. By now, your walls gripped him so tightly it was almost impossible to draw back all the way. 

“Gonna-gonna—Andyyyyyyy!” Your body tensed beneath him as your orgasm ripped through you, sending shockwaves up and down your limbs. 

Andrew kept his pace slow, wanting to draw out as much pleasure as he could for you, but his hips started to stutter intermittently, waiting for you to tell him to either pull out and stay inside, not expecting to get to finish. However, when your legs locked together at his lower back to push him as deep as possible, he grunted loudly. 

“You can cum inside, Andrew,” you panted, still experiencing the softer licks of pleasure that made you feel floaty. For one last measure, you pulled the chain taut once again. “Be good and cum.” 

Andrew stilled in your grasp, only needing your words and chain for his cock to start spurting cum along your walls. A low whimper whistled through his partly opened lips, and his eyes closed once again to focus on the way the chain dug into his neck, cutting off what he needed for the haze to grow at the edges of his mind. He rutted against you in half, unfinished thrusts, a mix of his spend and your creamy arousal coating the length of his cock. 

When he had nothing left to give, his arms slightly gave out, and his weight settled on top of you. You hummed lowly at the feeling and finally dropped the chain in order to run your hands through his curls. Every so often, you’d lift your chin to place small kisses along his cheek and jaw, whispering soft praises into his skin. 

The two of you lied there for several moments, basking in the afterglow and breathing in the scent of sex and something so entirely each other, neither of you wanting to let go at all. It wasn’t until Andrew leaned back and his cock slid out of you did you sit up slightly to look at him directly. 

“Thank you,” you softly said, one of your fingers still twirling a stray auburn curl. 

Andrew tilted his head slightly. “For what?” 

“For this, silly boy,” you laugh, the sound airy with disbelief. “You found me again.” 

He looked rather bashful after you said that before his lips formed into a frown. “Should’ve found you earlier.” 

“Maybe . . .” you trailed, “but we’re here now, and I’m not letting you disappear from my life again, Andrew Cody.” 

Finally, he fully smiled at you, crooked teeth on display. “Okay.” 

“Good,” you said, head bobbing in a nod. “Because you wouldn’t have to just deal with me. I will put Cardinal on your ass before you could even think of leaving without saying something.” 

🏷️ permanent tags: @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nofinnn2 @books-thingys-andstuff @nyxmoretti @glitterquadricorn @itzpixiebabe @xoxoloverb @macbaetwo @cerberus101 @thorfemmes @goddess-of-spring @staygoldsquatchling02 @obi-wansgirl @phantom-101 @fly-me-away @xblackcatx @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @aoi-warrior @keepingitundercover @sofianotvergara @shawnhatosysrightbicep @straykids1011 @vicky066 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sepidehmoafiglazer @multiversalfandomwriter222 @bellamys-girl1 @violet1661 @damoclesdarling @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @fancyvoidtragedy @hoffmanfan13 @lostfallenangelsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @isuckcigbuds @kaorisakamotofan @alexaplayldr @mszeitxt @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @yapeez @riseabovethorns-blog @thedivinegirlyp0p @sl33ping-sir3n @toxicwasteee @chanelwidag @cloudrisens @ravenwtfbro @ra-ven-124 @rainaris-ac @glamorizethechaos  

[poindextergirl]

sry just needing to tease muscle mommy ddba!dex so bad. making him think he’s completely misinterpreting your very obvious flirtations. playing dumb when he tries to read you. batting your lashes up at him to ask him to move something heavy or reach something on a high surface for you. you leave lingering “thank you” touches on his big hands, forearms, and biceps—he has no idea what to do with your touchiness. it was disarming, interrupting any plan of manipulating you he could scramble up, wiping his mind clean like a blackboard.

but as unfamiliar as the sensation is, dex can’t ever bring himself to not crave it. your delicate, warm fingers skating over his scarred, rough skin always sends shivers through him. he dreams about it. dex’s dreams were typically filled with his various fears and traumas, but lately, he’d found himself awash in thoughts of you. being held by you. waking up in your arms. feeling your nails trail down his sensitive spine. he wakes up still covered in sweat every morning; the only difference now being the slightly confusing tent in his boxers and burning sensation in his core.

sitting on the couch next to dex, you’re watching tv, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the skin of his thick forearm with your nails, and dex is complete and utter toast. he’s mindless, arching into your touch, entirely malleable to your will, breathless.

his whole body shudders when you feel him like this, massaging and encircling his muscles soothingly. he just needs to relax and unwind, you tell him as you climb into his lap. you coo over his overworked tendons, chastising him for not giving his body a break, as your thumb works the solid slabs. you reach his shoulders, his agitated trapezius muscles all knotted beneath your working fingers. dex didn’t believe someone could curb his stress the way you could. you could nearly pull the goddamn stress from him.

“so big, dex,” you whisper, examining one of his biceps in a flexed position. dex smirks, feeling his neck grow hot despite himself. but your voice, and your eyes, and your fingers all over him…guilt eats away at him, increasing as dex feels himself grow harder beneath your thigh. you pretend not to notice, shifting just enough to brush against him. dex bites down a groan, watching you intently study his bicep. you follow a bulging vein across his muscle, seemingly fascinated by the muscle multiplying in size when you hold his wrist and pull it up and down. he watches you with the same intensity; you feel it burning into the side of your face so you keep your expression carefully neutral.

he speaks without thinking next. “you like it big, honey?”

dex blushes something beautiful when you look up at him. he’s unsure of where the sentiment even came from. maybe some cringe porn he watched in his 20s? he wants to take it back, knows he’s crossed some sort of line. your brows are raising in surprise and dex’s thoughts are already spiraling. he’s ruined it. he’s ruined it and you’re gonna leave and—

“i do,” you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. the corners of your mouth curled upward, like you were privy to a joke that dex wasn’t in on. you felt him throb under your leg, vast chest heaving to keep up with his stuttering breaths.

it’s the look you gave dex then; blinking huge, pretty eyes up at him, filled with naive curiosity and…lust? it’s that look that kept dex hard long after you left his apartment. it’s that look that kept him up late, haunting him as he tossed and turned in bed. it’s that look that had shame screwing his eyes shut as he palmed his aching erection. it’s that look that had dex’s hips chasing his own touch, remembering how it felt to have your plushy ass on his lap in that moment. it’s that look that had his mind reeling, wondering what it might be like to feel inside you.

he jerked himself slowly to the brink of oblivion, only you on his mind. when he came, spilling hot and thick in his boxers, it was your name that fell from his lips, as if in prayer.

little did dex know, that was exactly where you wanted him.

[annaevermore]

Thinking about having a massive work crush on Benjamin Poindexter.

You like your job as a receptionist for the Bureau. It has nice benefits, you get to wear cute outfits to work everyday, and it's not as busy as some would think, allowing you to read magazines and play sudoku most of the time.

But the real reason why you look forward to going to work each monday morning is the beautiful agent who happens to work in the same building.

People around you immediately picked up on you infatuation — how could they not? Whenever he walks past your desk, you are quick to fix your hair and try to look busy, but your eyes always betray you.

But how could they not linger on his figure when he looks like that? Expecting you to function properly in his presence is just cruel.

"I'm not telling you this to be mean or anything, but I've heard that he's kind of... weird."

Hearing this words from one of your coworkers doesn't surprise you anymore. They're hardly the first ones to try and warn you about agent Poindexter, but the more they try to talk you out of your silly crush, the more into him you seem to be.

The reason you simply nod at their words and keep going on with you shift, as if they had never said anything in the first place, is because he's never been weird around you. He is a bit awkward sometimes — you'll grant them that — but you find it endearing.

Little do you know that Dex is actually obsessed with you.

Some of his coworkers have pointed out how how much time he spends at your desk, and they're not wrong. But how could he ever stay away from you?

Those moments when he gets to lean on your desk — getting a sniff of your sweet perfume — are the best moments of his day.

He want to impress you so bad, telling you about his missions, sometimes even exaggerating some details, just to get an impressed look out of you. And what if sometimes he rests on your desk in a way that makes his arms look particularly good?

Impressed you are, eyeing him with so much desire in your gaze that he feels intoxicated, desperately needing more of it. More of you.

The first time you see a glimpse of what your coworkers have been warning you about is when another agent tries to flirt with you.

He too tries to impress you with stories about the field, but when he does it, he just ends up sounding arrogant and full of himself, instead of brave and charming.

As he keeps talking, tentatively inviting you for drinks sometimes, you feel someone's heavy gaze resting on you. When you lift your eyes, you make eye contact with Dex, and what you see, just for a brief second, is not the endearingly awkward man you're used to.

Oh, no...

The man you see looks capable of killing the agent in front of you, just to keep you all to himself.

It only lasts a moment, but you swear there was something behind those eyes.

The look doesn't scare you, per se. What scares you is the fact that it doesn't make you want him any less.

It actually makes you want him more.

A/N: Just a little dynamic I would love to expand in the future. Feel free to send your thoughts in my inbox :))

[glossykissies]

my melody . . ‎♡‧₊˚ 🌸

fbi!dex is trying to be a total gentleman about you, his cutesy new girlfriend. he can’t mess this up and he really can’t scare you off. but you just… won’t stop accidentally moaning.

it’s not your fault, no — of course not, nothing is. you were this perfect angel, a shining light, and he was well, dex. a lecherous stain on your polkadot dresses, a blood splash on your repetto ballet flats. your perfect, delicate feet could only dangle from the high up pedestal he had you on, and that’s how he liked it.

but you were… naive. unaware of yourself and perhaps your sensuality. not completely of course, dex may have been fumbling here, but he wasn’t an idiot. he knew you had to know what you were doing when the sweetheart-neckline hollister tops started dipping lower, and is that a push up bra? and did you seriously just take extra time to lather a thick, glittery layer of lipgloss over your pout just to get him to focus on your mouth and wonder what it could do? maybe so. he knows how to play the game, you’re both adults, even if you were quite a bit younger. however you had this sweetness to you he hadn’t seen ever. always asking “what does that mean?” when someone would say a dirty joke, looking up at him with those big, hypnotising doe eyes. hell, sometimes he would intrusively decide he was taking advantage of you and just couldn’t stop.

he vowed to play the waiting game. let you make the first move to turn things sexual. gently guide you in that direction without pushing, prodding or begging. he’d do the ice cream dates, he’d kiss you goodbye at the end with no implication that he’d like to come inside your apartment (and you), he’d bring you flowers when you’re sick and watch a movie with you on the couch with his arm around your shoulder, tempted, but never moving lower to your waist. a gentleman.

“remember to move slow, at her pace. you’re older than her, presumably more… experienced in that field. you wouldn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.” his therapist all but reminds him into his notepad, endless red lines and scribbled circles highlighting all of his never ending flaws.

he thinks about you at his desk and when he’s on the field. dex can see past your skirt riding up, tickling the tops of your thighs. he can appreciate the innocence when you’d play with the necklace that hangs just above your cleavage of that pink bunny character you loved so much, my melody he recalls you telling him her name. he can ignore when you rest your socked feet in his lap on the couch, so close to sliding gently over his clothed shaft but never doing it, massaging your toes into his thighs absentmindedly as you stare at the screen. dex knows how to avert his eyes from your tits bouncing when you walk, reserving those thoughts for when he’s fisting his own cock in his own bed at night time, wondering what you’d look like bouncing on him.

it was the sounds. the sounds were getting to him.

“mmm…” you close your eyes with a sated, lazy, fucked out smile, tilting your head up and to the side, bare shoulder and cleavage exposed as you’d even pushed your hair away to feel the sunlight directly on your skin. the sound startles him out of a whirlwind of thoughts, snapping his head to the side to look at you basking in the sun right outside your apartment after he’d just picked you up. the sound was so suddenly pornagraphic, a groan like moan that had rolled from the back of your throat and arrived through your pillowy lips. you inhale deeply through your nose and sigh slowly out your mouth before fluttering your eyes open to gaze at him. “i love summer. i really hate wearing jackets.” just like that, the moments passed.

then, it’s the repeated whimpers. he hears them from your bedroom when you’d left him on the couch during one of your ‘movie dates’, and he was ashamed of how fast he jumped off the seat and stumbled over his own feet to follow the sound. a succession of “oh, oh, oh!” all desperate and high pitched, how he imagine you might sound when you’re touching yourself and about to cum. it was melodic, a fantasy come to life. he can’t help feel disappointed when he arrives at your doorway and you’re clutching yourself in fear, staring up at a rather large, brown spider crawling up your wall above your dresser.

you turn to him, and he melts, the momentary irritation sliding through his chest and out his clenched fists. you look to him, look up at him like he’s the only person that can save you from the evil insect that has cruelly invaded your space. through his perversions and fantasies— sometimes dex feels that he too is an evil insect that has invaded your space, too imperfect for you. “please dex, please, can you get it, i need you to, please!” you pout, voice still strained and brows still furrowed. his feet move before his voice does, your begging always making his cock jump.

“hey i’ll get the spider.” dex reassures, voice smooth and low and calm, the way he knows you like. he wondered if you wanted to be talked through an orgasm like that, the wild and unpredictable man serving as your anchor, your guiding light. the thought is blinding. “its okay, take a breath.” he smiles even though his cheeks hurt and feel weird, touches your lower back in passing even though he wants to grab a handful of your ass and knead. he does the right thing, and he’s stupidly proud.

how could he forget about when you gave yourself a paper cut at his apartment when helping him out with some files, a high pitched whine kissing the air followed by teary eyes and your soft lips suckling wetly on the wound, gazing at him for comfort. his jaw ticks and he hopes you don’t notice. he wants to push all the files off the table, he wants to take the finger out your mouth and suck the blood out for you. drain you. then you can suck on his fingers, his cock, anything you’d like. he wants to ruin your dress with blood that isn’t yours, he doesn’t care who’s, he’d bleed out for you, better yet it could be the blood of the men that came before him. he gets ahead of himself. dex coo’s at you, braves a kiss to your temple after he walks you to the sink to wash and dress the wound. he hopes you don’t hug him, you might feel that he’s hard.

it’s every stretch followed by a long, relieved moan. it’s the wincing and whimpering and hiding your face when he’d choose to stick on a horror movie just to get closer to you. it’s even the displeased yet girlishly high pitched groan when he’d call you to tell you they’d run out of your favourite dish at the chinese takeout spot. it was all just too much for him, he needed you soon before he erupted.

he breaks on a random thursday afternoon. a sweet treat, your favourite. he’d promised you he’d bring you to the diner near his work when he was all finished, to make up for being a little absent when work had gotten stressful. maybe that was why he wasn’t feeling as patient when you dip your finger into your milkshake, doll-like eyelashes batting as you gaze through them, sucking the whip off your perfectly manicured finger. the final straw was when your eyes flutter and roll back a tad, a pleasured groan leaving your throat. “so good.”

“stop that.” he clips, and it comes out flat and unamused. a tone you weren’t used to as he stares hard across the small table separating you.

“huh?” you’re all doe eyed and innocent in the blink of an eye once more, the seduction nothing but a brief memory, something dex could convince himself of being all in his head. “wha’s wrong dex?” you don’t take your eyes off him when you bow your head slightly to wrap your lips around the cherry red straw to take a sip.

“the sounds… the moaning and… and the noises, they have to stop. you have to stop.” he husks, eyes boring into you. if you didn’t know him so well you’d think he hates you.

you’re confused, of course you are — eyebrows furrowing and raising and your head tilting, tipping a rhinestoned hoop earring toward the light. “oh, i’m sorry. i… i didn’t know i was doing that. that must be so annoying.” you chuckle sheepishly, very clearly humiliated by your own unknowing actions as you cast your eyes toward the maraschino cherry plopped cartoonishly on top of your milkshake. you replay the past ten seconds over and over in the span of a few seconds in your mind, the memory of the sound you made appearing more obnoxious each time.

dex, sighs — long and disappointed in himself. how was it possible that he had messed things up with you so soon? he was doing so well, holding it together so well. now you’re pouting, and things are awkward and he’s just repressing a semi under the table. “no you… you’re not annoying. okay? that’s not it. look i’ve been trying to be a gentleman here. be patient and wait for you to make a move on me. but you keep making these noises and it’s hard. it’s really hard.” he explains, cadence a lot more soft than before as you listen intently, trying to follow along with what he was getting at.

he stares at you, and figures if he’s ruined it he may aswell try his luck. dex leans forward, elbows planted on the table and reaches to you, his skilful fingers dusting your cheek and his thumb swiping some left over whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. you’re perfectly still, giving him your undivided attention as he shifts his thumb to press against your bottom lip until you open your mouth slightly, not breaking the eye contact as you suck the cream off his skin. dex breath hitches in his throat, daring to keep his thumb there once you had sucked it clean, smearing your gloss over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. “you’re just perfect. i want you… so so bad. i want…” he inhales, gathering his thoughts. “i wanna… make you make those noises.”

“just like that. good girl. good fucking girl.” dex sighs, now having you caged on your princess bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he drags his long, leaking cock in and out of you. he’s staying relatively quiet, afraid to miss a single hiccup or gasp from you.

“o—oh, dex, ughmphm—” you’re practically singing for him, hot tepid breath on the shell of his ear as he works you over as patiently as he can. not because he didn’t want to scare you, no — not anymore. he was passed that point. merely because he wanted to savour it, needing to drag this out as long as you’ll let him seeing as he’d been waiting for weeks to get his hands on you.

“thats right.” he huffs, flushed in the face, eyes carrying this distant shock that you were even letting him inside you. “you gonna cum? you gonna finally let me hear it sweetheart? g’nna cum on my cock?”

“y—es!” you cry, and he’s sure you might actually be crying into his shoulder, not even bothering to take off his white shirt from work, now damp with sweat.

“yeah? yeah? c’mon. give it to me.” he hammers that gooey spot inside you with a professional precision that only he could manage, eyes closed in bliss just to listen to you, and only you.

[daydreamingkittycat]

which is gayer?

A) being gay or

B) Sweetheart, what'dy- what would you want me to do? Want me to get you out? Want me to file an appeal?

[d3stroy-me]

DDDNE mdni - dubcon ish fauxcest lots of pet names dad/dy kink oral - 4k words

It's the dead of night. You should be asleep. Shane doesn't like it when you're awake when he gets back from the bar. He says he doesn't want you to see him like that.

Usually, you're asleep.

But tonight... tonight you just can't. Your eyes won't close, your mind won't settle, and you just can't get comfortable.

So there you lie, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Minutes pass like hours.

Then you hear the front door unlock.

The heavy footsteps of your dad entering the house, along with the clatter of his keys and jacket being dropped somewhere you'd be forced to pick up in the morning, are the only sounds in the house besides your quiet breaths.

You expect Shane to plop down on the couch and turn on whatever happens to be on TV, part of his usual routine after getting home from the bar.

But he doesn't.

Instead, his heavy, drunken footsteps begin climbing the stairs. You hear him clumsily making his way down the hallway.

He stops right in front of your bedroom door.

Does he know you're awake...?

The door slowly creaks open.

"Sweets... are you awake?" Shane slurs, gripping the side of the doorframe to keep himself from falling over.

"I... um... I couldn't sleep," you answer just above a whisper, worried you'll be punished in the morning if he even remembers this conversation.

"Why, honey? Tell your dad what's wrong," Shane says as he slowly makes his way to the empty side of your bed.

"You need me to rock you to sleep, just like I did when you were younger?" he asks, his voice thick with alcohol.

He slips a calloused hand beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, absentmindedly tracing small circles across your stomach.

A quiet hum escapes your lips.

That hum mixed with the alcohol gives Shane the confidence he needed

Within seconds from Shane laying on his side he’s on top of you caging you in with his forearms on either side of you head.

Your dad may be the drunk one but his actions are making you dizzy.

“Dad what are you doing?”

“What am I doing what are you doing what have I told you about being awake at night baby” Shane whispers in your ear , the alcohol on his lips travailing down filling your senses adding to your dizziness.

“I already told you I couldn’t sleep dad I’m sorry”.

“Well baby maybe you need a little help sleeping I can think of something ”he says, well his hand travels to the waistband of your shorts slipping one finger into pulling it taut and letting go making the band snap against you stomach.

The snap causing you to shudder,

“What do you say baby you gonna let dad help you sleep”.

“Yes“ you say so quiet it’s barely audible.

“Well ok then" Shane says before practically ripping off your shorts.

Leaving you almost bare

Shane’s eyes are immediately glued to your clothed cunt and immediately zeroing in one the very visible dark spot that continues to grow the longer he looks.

“What’s got you so worked up baby”Shane says well stroking your thighs with his rough hands.

You whimper at his question to ashamed to admit anything

“Aww baby You embarrassed that your getting so worked up for your dad?”

You nod

“It’s ok bunny no need to be embarrassed it’s natural tell me what you need baby?”

All you can do is whimper

“Come on baby tell you daddy what you need use your big girl words”.

“You, I need you dad” You practically scream, throwing your head back into your pillow

“Your wish is my command” is all he says before practically smashing his face in your clothed cunt and taking a big inhale. The scent and taste of you bringing him into a euphoria. 

Shane immediately starts making out with your clothed pussy basically sucking your leaking juices from your dripping hole through your panties , leaving them messier than before until he decided the barrier was to much, he needed to taste you fully leaving you fully bare from the waist down.

Shane takes a minute to just look at you bare making you feel small under his watch.

“Look at her, prettiest pussy your daddy has ever seen, my baby girl has the prettiest pussy and it’s all mine right baby?”

All you can do is whimper and nod

“Come baby tell me”

“Yes dad it’s all yours, I’m all yours” you practically whine.

“Good girl” is all Shane says

Immediately sucking on your clit causing you to buck your hips and whine

Your dad continues to suck on your clit well bringing his hand down pushing two long thick calloused fingers into your aching hole, pushing them in and out at rapid speed constantly hit that spongy spot inside you causing you to all but scream. The coil inside you beginning to tighten.

“Fuck daddy I’m gonna cum” you whine

“Yeah baby you gonna cum on your dad’s face? Do it baby make me proud ”Shane says muffled between your thighs.

His icky words causing that coil inside you to snap, making you cum with a scream.

“Good girl baby you tired now?” Shane says still between your shaking thighs.

A/n repost and comments are always appreciated 🤎🤎🤎

[d3stroy-me]

This is so Dex coded like just imagine him setting down his things well ur sat up in bed and he’s explaining why you need to be punished cuz u mouthed off to him earlier

[poinandshoot]

𓏲🪽˚. ˖ . ݁ dex is your dentist, blow job, deepthroating, face fucking, cum in mouth, praise, degradation, fingers in mouth, bruising the back of your throat, sexual activity in a medical setting, cumplay

“open wide”

the gentleness in his tone did nothing to ease the ache between your thighs. you’d been trying so hard not to think about it. but how could you, when your ridiculously attractive dentist had his gloved fingers in your mouth and is calmly talking you through every step?

he gently stretched the corner of your mouth, examining each tooth carefully. “no cavities. good girl.”

you nearly choked on nothing. the words slipped from him so naturally. low. sweet. his attention never left your mouth, as though he hadn’t realised what he’d just said.

then he tilted your chin slightly and examined your palate. his eyes paused. just for a second. a faint dark patch on the back of your throat.

he didn’t comment. he simply finished the examination in silence, made a note on his tablet, and stepped back. took his mask off. handsome. really handsome. he went to you again. “sit up.” his voice was a lot firmer now, for reasons unknown. you just did as he said.

you sat up. turning to him. looking up as he looked down at you. something about this position made everything unlikely to be just a dentist appointment. he tilted your chin up, making you look up at him well. “open your mouth again.”

you did. he entered two fingers inside your mouth again. you watched them do their job. stretching your mouth. then they went deeper, almost choking you. you immediately looked up at him. his eyes weren’t even on his fingers or on the inside of your mouth. they were focused on your face. you kept eye contact as you took the hint.

then slowly, you closed your mouth around his fingers. sucking them through his gloves as your eyes never left his. taking them deep as he shoved them down. his breathing hitched and you could see the way his throat bobbed. not expecting you to actually take it.

you played your tongue around his fingers, wetting the gloves until your saliva covered them. then you slowly pulled away, your teeth grazing the gloves as you did. you closed your teeth on the edge of his gloves. not fully taking it off, just to tease him.

then fully let go. smiling at him. sweetly. “wish it was you instead, doc.” you boldly said, getting the hint that he was indeed jealous he wasn’t the one to bruise that throat of yours.

his breathing deepened as you started unbuckling his belt. pulling the zipper down without taking your eyes off him. encircling your index finger on the bulge. as you took it off, his cock sprang out. hard as a rock. you didn’t waste time stroking it. licking your lips before kissing it and pushing it slowly inside your mouth.

he grabbed your hair, fisting it as he took control. he held his cock, pushing it on the inside of your cheeks. stretching it and slapping it on your tongue.

but oh, the time is limited.

so he just shoved his cock down your throat. let it stay there for a while. making sure you gag and tear up. but fuck, you took it so well.

“what a fucking slut you are.” he says through his breath. your eyes lit up. then he started fucking your face. deep, harsh, rough. wanting to be the one to bruise your throat. his head threw back at how well you took it. his jaw fell as pathetic whimpers escaped him.

such pathetic noise for a big man shoving his cock down your throat.

he groaned deeply as he slowly pulled halfway. just to your mouth. and shot his cum all over. groaning and letting out such a manly moan that made you unconsciously touch yourself. he pulled out to press the tip on your lips. smudging the cum all over. inside again. making you clean it.

“don’t swallow.” he says through his heavy pants.

when you finally cleaned him enough, he pulled out. you licked the cum off your lips. playing with it.

“wide.” he tilted your chin up slightly to get a better look as you opened your mouth. his cum painted the inside of your mouth so beautifully. then he pushed his fingers again. playing around with the cum and smudging it all over the inside of your cheeks.

he went deeper to look down on your soft palate again. freshly bruised. a lot more bruised than before. he smirked proudly and gave your cheek some tiny slaps.

requested by anon <3 | @pearlvirag

[s4ngel]

Dad dex stepping out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist only to see his sweet girl found his bullseye mask and tried it in herself and he is instantly getting hard just seeing her doe eyes peeking up at him and the fact her lips are pressing against the cloth where his used to be .He is definitely fucking her while she is still wearing the mask

dex stepped back into his bedroom, skin still slightly damp and towel hung on his waist as he groaned quietly — before he was met with the sight of you in mask. you were looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing his mask — not fitting you 100%, and to top it off you were in one of his shirts too,

"christ," dex muttered to himself before smirking slightly. shaking his head with a slight chuckle as he padded over to you, "what’re you up to, huh?"

he always liked seeing you in his clothes, but the mask? he never realised how much he loved that — your soft lips placed where his would be. he began to hardened at the thought.

you spin around to face him as you giggle behind the mask, "uh, what’s it look like? i’m a mini bullseye." you tease, cheeks flushing lightly beneath the mask as you give your stepdad a quick once-over, the balaclava highlight your stares and making it painfully obvious.

"oh, yeah? well.. looks like i’ve got competition now— apparently lester wasn’t bad enough.." he stalked over to you quietly, a small and appreciative smirk on his lips as he pinched your cheeks gently before picking you up with a small grunt, and plopping you down onto his bed.

a quiet off leaves you as your head hits the pillow, dex crawls atop of you with a quiet huff — not a chuckle but close to it. you reach up to pull the mask up but dex’s hand stops you, wrapping around your wrist as he slowly brings it down, "nuh uh, don’t think about it, angel."

your hand is guided to his lower tummy before dragged down, feeling his erection through the towel as you squeak slightly, "i— ugh, dad! seriously.." your words a quiet flustered whine, squirming in your spot slightly as he grinds against your hand slightly,

"what? you can’t blame me… s’your fault for trying to dress up as daddy." he presses a kiss to your neck, nibbling like a cat as faint marks build. a small huff leaves you once he pulls your hand away,

"hands up, come on." tugging your — his shirt off of you as you oblige, an appreciative and quiet sigh escapes him as hes met with the sight of your breasts, the pebbles hardening slightly as he runs his tongue along them, a quiet moan escapes you — muffled slightly by the mask as your legs fall open once his hand travels to the hem of your panties.

his large fingers graze over the damp spot, a quiet coo leaving him, "aw, baby.. s’this from wearing the mask or me touching you?" feeling your clit through the thin fabric as you whimper out a response, "b— both… m..mask smells like you.."

"needy girl," his tone teasing — as if he wasnt the one who started this…

he slowly peels down your panties, leaving you completely bare except for his mask on you as you flush in embarrassment. your fingers and gaze trail over his body slowly, tracing down his built frame before meeting the hem of the towel..

your fingers trail down gently, rubbing along the outline of his cock as you meet his gaze again, eyes wide and needy.

"daddy. get it off.."

"huh, you’re impatient too." before untying the towel, disregarding it on the floor as his cock springs free, hitting against his skin before he drags his tip through your folds, "s’wet, baby." he sighs, the smirk still on his face as he watches every little expression you make.

"shut up— d— do i have to keep the mask on.."

"mhm, don’t whine. you look cute, angel. daddy wants this, okay?" you dont protest any further as he slowly pulls his tip away, sucking on two of his fingers before pressing one against you, "i want you now," your words pausing him as he looks at you,

"s’a big stretch, sweetheart."

"don’t care.. m’fine.."

your legs parting as dex holds your thighs open, slowly lining up his cock at your weeping entrance . his gaze never leaving yours before slowly sliding in, "big stretch— thassit, baby." he groans, propping your legs up on his shoulders, diving deeper inside of your cunt,

"you’re behaving like a big girl now, look at you." he cooed teasingly, "might make you wear this more, boost your confidence." as he fidgets with the mask before holding your legs once again.

moans escaped you as they muffled against the fabric, eyes rolling back slightly as dex grunted with each thrust. your tummy bulging slightly as he was inside you. as his movements sped up you drooled against the mask slightly — incoherent murmurs leaving you except for the soft ‘daddy daddy daddy’s.

"gonna hear that everytime i wear the mask now," he chuckled, one hand reaching down to play with your clit — drawing you closer to release as your walls squeezed around his shaft, "gonna cum with me, okay? good girl,"

the room filling with your noises as you came around him — a deep groan leaving dex before he pulled out with a gentle pop, spurting his cum onto the mask, right where your mouth would be.

"hmph- dex!" finally peeling the mask off yourself with a slight gasp for air.

"hm, m’gonna make you wear the rest of the suit next time, baby." he teased— but you felt like he wasn’t exactly joking…

[maayhemi]

thinking about dex and his pervert girlfriend...

you're constantly testing him, fliting around the apartment doing chores in panties that leave very little to the imagination, and a thin white top that outlines the sensitive buds of your nipples. he just can't help but chub up in his sweats, palming himself and getting all embarrassed when you smile at him sweetly over your shoulder.

he literally whines when you bend over to pick up a sock under the couch, a damp spot from your slick seeping through your lace panties. "baby..." a deep red flush makes its way up his neck, tinting all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"what's wrong, dex?" you furrow your eyebrows softly in faux concern, walking over to him and rubbing his bicep gently, putting on that innocent act that he stupidly believes. he really thinks he's the pervert here, you've got him wrapped around your finger.

a bit later, he's taking an important work phone call, nodding along to the men on the other line. you come right along and flop down on the couch next to him, swinging your bare legs so they're resting in his lap. he gives you a small smile, his face a tinge of pink. big warm hands come up to rub at the fat of your calves tenderly.

what he doesn't expect is you hooking your fingers in the hem of your crop top and pulling it up just enough so that your tits are spilling out, on full display right in front of his face. his breath hitches, blushing like a fool and his hands gripping his phone so hard you're surprised it hasn't broken. he stutters over his words, tripping over each syllable and trying to ignore the way he's literally throbbing in his boxers. he's so hard, he feels like he could cum from a gust of wind! unfortunately, that's the type effect you have on him. poor baby has to go through the phone call eyes locked on your tits and his mind hazy.

it's not until he has to hop on a zoom call that he finally breaks. hes sitting at the kitchen table listening to others speak about something that sounds important, but you just can't help yourself.

you slide under the table and smile up at him through his legs, rubbing his thighs up and down. he had just gotten his dick to go down from earlier, and now you're getting it up all over again! his eyes flick between you and the screen, clearly not sure where to place his attention.

you go to palm at his clothed cock, stroking the already leaking shatt through his sweats and enjoying the way he tries to weakly push your hand away, no matter how bad he wants it. he's just looking down at you and shaking his head, squirming and trying to take hold of your wrist, whispering little sorry's.

he can't take it anymore when your fingers find the waistband of both his pants and boxers, tugging at it like you're going to suck him off right there. he quickly turns his camera off and his mute, dragging you out trom under the table, making you yelp in suprise. he's just apologizing the whole time, he gets you on the bed and starts rutting into you desperately, pathetic little whimpers falling from his lips.

he truly thinks you could do no wrong, like he's the one who's being a creep. it's fun to test him because no matter how far you go, he'll still think you're just his angel.

© mayhemi | all rights reserved.

[d3stroy-me]

Finished untamed wow wasn’t expecting that plot twist Jesus

[maayhemi]

DDBA! Dex being awkwardly flirted with by a younger waitress at the diner. She has his favorite items memorized and clearly stares at his hands and lips a little too intensely whenever she takes his order. 🙂‍↕️

ddba!dex and a shameless 20 something year old waitress...

he's a regular at the diner now, he swears it's not to see you, it's just close to his apartment! but you definitely do keep him company while he eats.

you always love seeing him walking through the door in the morning, taking his usual seat at the counter and not so subtly eyeing you down while you talk to other customers.

"hi, dex" you make a show of batting your eyelashes at him and smiling sweetly, just to see the corner of his lips twitch, an amused smile playing at his face. "hi sweetheart" he responds in that low, gravely and teasing tone of voice that makes your cunt clench around nothing. just him talking to you like that makes you go dumb.

"the usual?" you ask, your mind somewhere else as your eyes glance down to his big, thick fingers, the ones you're sure would stretch you out. he's fiddling with a coin between his digits, "yeah, baby, the usuals good." the fucking pet names, they make your mind go hazy, and he notices.

you're pressing your thighs together while making his milkshake, you can literally feel his stare piercing through you. he's just tilting his head, very evidently amused by how needy you are from just talking to him. it makes his cock twitch in his pants.

if he does stay for a while, you ask him all about his day, his work life, whatever can get him to keep his attention on you. he just gives vague answers, finds your pressing funny.

and by the time he leaves, he's giving your ass a pat and leaning down to whisper to you, "don't be afraid to tell me how you really feel, okay?" you're caught of guard. nodding dumbly as he slips you his number on a napkin.

© mayhemi | all rights reserved.

[cyber333angel]

Hey best! I have an idea...

stepfather! Dex who "teaches" his stepdaughter to defend herself in the fight... starts with him immobilizing her, getting between her legs, passes the hand on her chest, so he gives the option that trying naked, feeling the body of the other gets better... imagines you clinging to him in a naked fight and feeling something between his leg... then the inevitable happens 😌

I took forever to respond to this im so sorry lovie 😭

when your stepdad moved in your mom allowed dex to turn the basement into a workout space, he filled it with all this equipment. weights, punching bag, etc..

you often crept passed your mom to go downstairs and watch dex workout, sitting on one of his benches and admiring the older man flex his sweaty muscles, watching his biceps every time he picked up a weight.. dex teased you about it all the time when he was done with his sets, so much so that it started to make you feel a tinge of embarrassment!

so you came up with the suggestion that he teaches you his routines so you could have an excuse to gawk at him still, letting him teach you some of his moves since he’s well articulated in that field.

your stepdad tells you that he’ll start off slow, that he would be gentle with you for the first few lessons and gradually it would get more intense. “we’ll start with simple punches yeah? just keep up with me and punch the palms of my hands..” dex would instruct, his eyes watching you so intently as you nod excitedly. you repeat after him and dex lets you tap at his hands, a praiseful “atta girl.” coming from his lips every time you did well.

…

after a week dex knew you were ready for more—physical lessons, he had told you that you did exceedingly well last week and he wanted to speed up his teaching. which meant your back was pushed up against dexs sweaty chest more times than not, feeling his breathing behind you as he hold you in place waiting for you to try and break free. there were times where you could swear you could feel something hard press up against your tights whenever he had you like that, always waving it off because your stepfather would just continue with his lesson. in fact he always seemed to touch you in inappropriate ways each time you practiced together, feeling his hand fondle your breast when he made you escape from his hold, his veiny hand creeping a bit too far down between your thighs sometimes…

so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the older man told you to take off your shirt in the middle of the lesson, “aren’t you hot in that sweetheart? you can take it off, s’just you and me down here.” dex would prompt, and it really wasn’t a question because he stood there looking at you until you started to lift your shirt up slowly. making you look around shyly to only be left in your sports bra and tiny gym shorts afterwards. “there you go, much better.”

and he’s soo touchy with you after that, his hands caressing down the skin of your waist as he voices out the moves you should be following, his thumb digging into your back and his knee pressing into your sensitive cunt as he holds you in front of him. you tried your best to think nothing of it and let him handle you every which way, but it was just a little too stimulating for you to stay quiet, letting out these little whimpers as your stepdad gropes you :(

“can we take a little b-break daddy?” you’ll pant, your panties all soaked and slick from all the touching and you just need a moment away from dex before you cum on the yoga mat. just to be met with a shake of the head from dex, “we can’t end the lesson here baby, how will you learn to defend yourself? if some pervert comes up to you and touches you like this what are you gonna do?”

you yelp at how hard he grips you up, hands immobile as he holds them to the side while his other hand ventures down your pants. weeks of your stepfathers teaching down the drain in just one session :(( and his hands are creeping into your panties, big fingers sliding across your achey clit and making you lurch forward, it doesn’t take long for your mind to get all cloudy from the way he’s fondling you. “oh sweetheart I know you can do better than that, you were doing so well last week what happened to my strong little girl?”

[ifawns]

sub!dex who has a mommy kink 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 Pls give me thoughts queen i need ur wise words

-🗡️

he slips up the first time its brought up. he couldn’t help it, not when you had both hands on his neck while you bounced up and down on him, how could he not call you mommy?

“what did you just say?” you ask, admittedly shocked and a bit turned on but your rough pace on the man below you doesn’t falter. when he doesn’t answer you get a bit annoyed. “say it again, dex. don’t you wanna listen to your mommy?” your rhetorical question sent shivers down his spine, hips thrusting up mindlessly into you. “maah—mommy mommy. said momm-” you cut him off with a rough, messy kiss that makes him groan into your mouth. you pull away for air and you notice theres tears in his eyes, his lip quivering as he paws at your body.

“s-so pretty, sososo pretty, mommy,” he says, earning a smile from you. you take one of your hands and guide his own big, rough hand to your chest and that makes him lose it. he’s a babbling mess, begging for absolutely nothing as you meet his thrusts. “yeah? mommy feels good, huh? go ahead and show me how good you are” is all it takes to get him to cum inside you, pathetically whining all throughout his orgasm.

[poinandshoot]

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — non-con, degradation, humiliation, blood and injury, violence, forced orgasm, spitting, choking, coercion, masturbation, creampie

it’s filthy, disgusting

you’re too kind. gosh, you are. so willing to help strangers. especially the ones bleeding and broken. you just wanted to help. you really did. so now you’re on your own couch with your own panties shoved into your mouth, spread open beneath the man you patched up, while he fucks into your cunt like he owns it.

“see, that’s the problem with good girls like you.” his voice rasps against your ear, rough as gravel and just as cold. “you never check if the stray dog bites. you just open your door and roll out the bandages. real trusting.”

blood drips from his split lip onto your cheek. another drop, warmer, rolls from a wound on his side down your waist. you try to turn your head, but he catches your jaw, forcing you to look at him. his thumb brushes your tears away, smearing them across your skin like he's painting something. “i’m just paying you back for helping me.” he says it like a promise. mocking you. “next time, sweetheart, maybe check who you’re saving before you offer your couch.” then he slams into you deeper, and you muffle a scream against the cloth in your mouth.

he buries his face in your neck, kisses and bites until you’ll have bruises you can’t explain. your legs shake. you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come. one more gathers in your gut, hot and humiliating. you clench around him against your will. you turn your head away, face pressed into the couch cushion, but he fists your hair and yanks you back.

“if you scream, i’m going to make this night a lot longer for you. understand?” his tongue traces the shell of your ear before he pulls the panties from your mouth.

you don't scream. you sob. “p-please… I don’t like this- ”

“yeah?” he tugs your hair harder. “tell me how much you hate it. how disgusting i am. go on, pretty girl.”

“i fucking hate you- get off me- please-” the words come out broken, swallowed by tears. he laughs, low and dark. then he shoves your face into the cushion again, arches your back, and drives himself deeper. “i’m disgusting, baby? that’s what i am?”

“disgusting- you’re so fucking-” you gasp as he hits that spot. the one you hate and the one that betrays you every time. “disgusting- mmh…”

“yeah? am i?” his rhythm stutters. his breathless whisper made your cunt clench around him. you hated how your skin prickled, every hair standing up. he comes inside you, hot and thick.

“no- no, get off!” you beat your fists against his chest, slap his face, but he just laughs. the blood from his lips smears across your cheek as he catches both your wrists in one hand, grip bruising. with the other, he squeezes your cheeks, forces your mouth open, and spits. a thick gob of bloody saliva lands on your tongue. copper. salt. filth. you gag, try to spit it out. but he shoves his gloved fingers into your throat, pushing it down. you choke, kick, but he’s got you pinned. helpless.

but then,

a sharp knock at the door.

your eyes fly open. the fantasy shatters like glass.

you’re alone in your living room. legs spread wide on the couch. fingers buried knuckle-deep in your soaking cunt. panting hard. your panties are shoved halfway down your thighs, clinging to your skin, slick with shame. on the cushion beside you lies the blue mask. still damp and warm from your grip. the mask that you took that night he saved you, but you never saw his face. you wanted his face, his name, anything. the mask lay by your foot, warm with sweat and blood. you took it because you couldn’t let him vanish without a trace. you needed to have something of him. so you stole it, stuffed it in your pocket, and ran. cowardly? yes. you couldn’t let go of the only piece of a man who gave you nothing else. but you’ve put it to good use, haven’t you? good fucking use.

another knock. louder.

you yank your hand free. heart hammering, you scramble to pull up your panties, wipe your slick fingers on your thigh. you toss the mask onto the coffee table, smooth your hair, straighten your shirt. your legs shake as you force them to carry you to the door.

you open it.

tony stands there, holding a toolbox. your quiet neighbor with mysterious way of living. “tony?” your voice comes out raw, still thick from the moans you were biting back seconds ago.

“you said you needed help fixing your bed.” he smiles. small. easy. but his eyes flick past you for half a second, scanning your living room. something in the way he moves makes your stomach twist.

“right… yes. yes, of course. come in.” you struggled a bit. then he steps forward. the space between you shrinks. you catch his scent. sweat, something metallic, and somehow a strong perfume. something that makes your freshly-used cunt clench again. it’s like the same scent that clung to the mask. the same copper tang that filled your mouth in that filthy fantasy you had. you push it away. stupid. he’s just tony. a nice guy who fixes things. nothing like the man in your head. you’re just being too disgusting.

you turn and walk fast toward your bedroom, rambling about screws and measurements you don’t understand. nervous chatter to fill the silence. behind you, tony stays quiet. too quiet. his eyes are still moving. when you finally glance back, he’s stopped. standing by the coffee table. looking down.

at the mask. damp. spit-slick. a smear of something glossy on the fabric.

[poindextergirl]

Dry-humping or thigh-grinding. I want to do both on Dex and tease him for hours until he cries and begs to be inside—

ugh same <3

having thoughts of big ole ddba!dex in that white tank & grey sweats. you watch him workout every morning like clockwork from the couch, rereading the same line in your book over and over again bc it was so distracting. dex tries sooo hard to hide his smirk, act like he doesn't feel the heat of your gaze raking over him, but you see the corners of his mouth turn up anyway. you respect his routine and don't dare to interrupt, but it gets increasingly more difficult to not stare just over the top of your book.

it always ends the same, a routine in and of itself: with you perched in his lap on the couch, kissing and grinding on him hungrily.

dex groans softly into your mouth, bucking his hips up into yours, providing perfect pressure to your swollen clit. "mmpf, dex, feels so good, baby," you whimper and dex throws his head back in pleasure, panting. your words shoot straight down his reinforced spine, making his girthy cock jump beneath his sweatpants. he can't think straight, not with you moaning against him, dragging those soaked little pj shorts up and down his clothed, weeping dick. your fingernails bite into his massive shoulders as your hips move back and forth, taking your pleasure as you need it. just the way he liked.

"f-fuck, sweetheart," dex whispers, "m'so hard...please."

you grin sadistically, enjoying every second of watching him squirm under your gaze. cocking your head to the side, you place ur hands on his thick pectoral muscles, circling your hips sensually. dex screws his eyes shut, squeezing your waist tight. pretty moans fall from his reddened lips as you keep grinding.

"look at me, dex. please, what?"

his hazel eyes popped open, glassy now. the question seemed to pain him, blonde brows drawing harsh lines on his handsome face. "i—i dunno, just need you. please."

his tip nudges your clit perfectly with each thrust because of course it does. you feel him throb, heavy and needy, aching for you.

dex hiccups. "can...can i slip inside? please?"

you coo at him, leaning in to press gentle kisses along the muscle of his neck. when you reach the sweet spot just below his ear, dex lets out an embarrassing whimper. one he'd deny ever happening, but you already filed it away in your brain. your pussy clenches around nothing at the sound, wet and far too empty for your liking.

"hah! please. need it s'bad," dex begs. "jus' wanna make you feel good, please." salty silver tears slip from the corners of his eyes as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that matters in this world. your chest tightens—along with your core—at his blatant desperation.

he nearly cums when u start licking up his tears, leaving kisses and murmuring praise against his rough, moist skin. only stays hovering on the edge through sheer willpower: he never came before you did at least twice. but the blush creeping up his neck and sweat beading on his forehead gave him away all the same, so you relented out of pure pity.

"mm, okay, baby," you mumble with a nod. he moans unabashedly at the pet name, grinding hard into you. loves all ur pet names for him, but "baby" is different. makes him feel safe. loved, even, which is a scary thought.

you ease off dex's lap—which he pouts about for a moment, until he realizes you're shimmying your shorts off and pulling him to lay down next to you. dex is breathless, chest heaving, as he tries to pull himself together for the next step. can't even remember taking off his sweats, lost in the haze of you and nothing else, until all of a sudden, his naked body is slotting next to yours and then—

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