Fertilise Me

NO MINORS! Kitt F33 - UK - queer Into breeding, insemination, f0rced/dubcon, CoD, Criminal Minds, TLOU, monsters, orgasms, and probably alot of other things! (mostly for the smut.. Let's be honest! 🤣) ..Desperate overuse of emoji.. This is my secret hideout to explore my slightly kinky fantasies 😋

[werewolfadmirer]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE!!!

[hawksredrobe]

Trans!Jack thinking Robby won’t enjoy sex with him because of his.. system? Robby of course reassured him.

"Jack," Robby says, patient but smiling a little confused, "you know I like all parts, all people. Whatever you have doesn't matter to me, I'll find it hot no matter what." He continues kissing a leisurely path down Jack's neck, pressing Jack into the mattress. Jack strains up to meet him, hands loose on the back of his neck.

"Yeah, but," Jack says breathlessly, "maybe you were expecting or hoping for something a little bigger, you know, than what I've got--"

"Jack," Robby whispers, "I love you. I want to fuck you. Do you love me? Do you want me in your bed?"

Jack thought when they finally got into bed, it'd be him taking Robby out of his head, not the reverse. And he did have to help Robby along with the emotional part of this conversation, the vulnerability, nudging him along a little faster than pulling teeth...

But Robby is the expert here. Confident and sure, not taking Robby doesn't want me for an answer.

"Yes and yes," Jack whispers back, looking up at him. Robby smiles.

"Good boy," he praises, and goes back to kissing his neck, "now let me please you and your big cock." He fits his fingers over Jack's cock and plays with it until Jack is squirming beneath him, legs already shaking from pleasure. It's not gonna take long to get him out of his mind with the rest.

@hausofrabbot @throbby-robby @gremlinkat1992 @genevievedarcygranger @coffee-splatters @fatherpo @achingly-tired @optimisticflicker @hunterofartemis151 @kaja94 @hatovitch @readingaroundworlds @mattcrzs @ywecanthavenicethingsanymore @silhouette-sky @nowandajenn @gayestcowboyintown @its-me-meg @prqngs @optimisticallydevotedmercinary @imbiowaresbitch @neversleepingever @violet-ink @fertilise-me

[pope-codys]

pope-codys pittcember

day thirty-one: midnight kiss (jack abbot x reader)

summary: you and jack ring in the new year

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader

words: 550

tags: fluff, marital bliss

authors note: aaand pittcember is over! thank you so much to everyone who has read, reblogged, and commented, i see you and appreciate you so much!!! this took longer to complete than i'd anticipated but i'm really proud that i've finished it

Jack made the rounds again at the New Years Eve party you and him had thrown for the Pitt crew, his eyes scanning the crowd for you as he circled through the party. He'd searched the whole first floor of the house, weaving between co-workers and distributing glasses of champagne and sparkling cider as the clock ticked closer to midnight. When you were nowhere to be found, Jack passed the champagne duty off to Javadi and Whitaker as Jack disappeared upstairs to look for you, a glass of champagne in each hand.

Jack found you in the shared ensuite bathroom, all dolled up in your silver party dress and sparkling jewelry like a beautiful vision, but you were leaning over, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter top, staring down at the sink. Jack followed your gaze down to what you were looking at and he stopped dead in the doorway when he registered what was sitting next to the sink, his stomach flipping.

It was a pregnancy test.

"I'm not going to be able to drink that." You said without looking up, referencing the glass of champagne in Jacks hand. Jack stepped into the room, setting the glasses down on the counter while closing the door behind him with his foot. Jack moved to stand next to you, his arm coming around your waist in a gesture of comfort as he looked down.

The test was positive.

Jacks heart seized in his chest, a million emotions swirling around his body. Surprise, excitement, apprehension, concern, joy. This hadn't been something you and Jack had been trying for - you discussed it, but it was something totally different when it was real. Jack could feel the unbridled joy rising in him, the excitement that this was actually happening and you two were going to be parents, but he needed to check in with you first.

"Honey?" Jack prompted, hoping to get a reaction out of you. You swallowed hard, the sound audible to Jack, and pushed off the counter to straighten up. When you turned to face him, your eyes were wet with tears. Jack tugged you closer immediately, his arms pulling you into his embrace, chest to chest. You rested your hands on his shoulders, grounding yourself.

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked.

"I'm thinking about how this is going to be a scary nine months." You said with a heavy sigh. "I'm thinking about all the symptoms and complications you and I both know can happen in pregnancy and during birth. I'm thinking about how because we know so much we're also more prepared. I'm thinking about how I'm going to be a mom and you're going to be a dad and how I can't wait to meet our baby." Your voice broke, the swell of happy emotions pushing up your throat. Jack smiled at you and you smiled back, a wet, elated laugh bursting out of you. Jack drew you into a firm hug, one hand pressing on your back and the other cupping your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you both clung to each other as the party downstairs began to loudly count down from ten.

"Hell of a way to start the year." Jack said against your shoulder and you pulled back to look at your husband, seeing his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

"Happy New Year Jack." You whispered, your hands cupping his face.

"Happy New Year my love." He said back, kissing you soundly as the party goers downstairs erupted into a chorus of 'Happy New Year!' as the clock struck midnight.

pittcember masterlist

dividers by @ strangergraphics

join my taglist!

taglist:

@littleesilvia @distantsighs @4rtem4r @aryacoulson @sweeethearts @fveapplestall @tjohn63 @stellaforstar666 @caterpillarskimono @avengersbabe13 @littlezee80 @marvelcasey05 @thedamnqueenofhell @lover-girlxx @sleepylunarwolf @xoxabs88xox @frankierowillneverdie @secretmoonphantom @catmomstyles3 @delilafin @cowardly-carrot-cowers @larkspurinthepitt @woodxtock @flyinglama @doe-jenna @fairygardensss @fertilise-me @doe-jenna @eddiemunsonguitar @allicesun @garcington @catnip987 @artsymaddie @999ares9996 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @18lkpeters @marsupialnoises @the-queen-of-fools @moominlovie @oosarasotaoo @sxenjill @kabloswlrd @rae4725 @haylorspice-blog @axen-gers @witchywidow97 @waywardwifey @pequnopastel @missharper33 @caterppillar @avgdestitute @titus-danforth @dragonsondragons @acn87

[fertilise-me]

🥹🥹

Awww!! That was lovely!!! 🥰🥰

Thankyou so so much for Pittcember and your dedication to finishing it!! 😘😘

[cringeiknow]

CAMEO ALERRRTTT!

Dropping this and running. This is from my cameo that @snailsinamarchingband @theghostofcosmichorrorpast and @maladaptive-daydreamer-23 / @mals-fic-reblogs got me for my birthday in November!

WHICH THEY ARE SO SWEET AND KIND AND I NEARLY PASSED OUT.

RIPPPPPP EVERYONES HCs.

[fertilise-me]

O. M. G.

[thedamnqueenofhell]

Private Dancer

Pairing: Robby Robinavitch x Stripper!Reader

Rating: E

Plot: Jack and John drag Robby to a strip club, where you catch his eye. And he makes you break all your rules.

Word Count: 2258

Warnings: reader is afab; reader is a stripper; Robby gets a private dance; oral (f receiving); PiV sex (condom used); cliff hanger but I am working on part 2.

A/N: technically PA law states clients cannot touch dancers during lap dances but who’s going to tell? Dividers by @strangergraphics

The bass of the music thumped through the club, giving the woman on the stage a good beat to dance to. Robby sighed, having been dragged to the strip club by John Shen and Jack Abbot. They both decided he needed to have fun, and the next time they all had the night off they decided they were heading to The Velvet Steel. The two even paid for bottle service, opting for some high end whiskies.

“Did we have to come to the club where Myrna used to work?” Robby grunted.

“She stopped working here over a decade ago. But if you want to go find her she’s probably either in the ED or her favorite corner spot,” Jack says.

“Fuck off Jack.”

“C’mon man, let us at least buy you a lap dance. You’re too tense,” John said, sipping on his whiskey.

“You don’t have to. You two already talked me into coming here.” As Robby was speaking the dancer on the stage finished her set. The next woman up was the most breathtaking woman Robby had ever seen. She was in a purple set, with lingerie underneath. The purple of her tube top and skirt popped on her, and she wore clear high heels that Robby thought were a sprained ankle waiting to happen, and her hair was done in a half up, half down style that Robby found gorgeous. The first notes of Baby Bash’s Cyclone started up and the dancer started her set. Robby vaguely heard Jack say his name.

“Robby!” Jack said again, a sly grin on his face.

“What?”

“See someone you like?” Jack joked, following Robby’s eyes to the stage. John’s eyes followed and he smiled.

“Well, we know who to get Robby a lapdance from.”

“She is gorgeous,” Robby agreed. The dancer spun around the pole, and ended up hanging upside down on it, positioned like an archer about to shoot a bow. Robby’s eyes widened in awe at her core strength. After a few rotations on the pole, the dancer slipped off her top, revealing a lacy bra beneath it. She gyrated on stage a bit, flirting with the men at the stage. The song ended, and went into another. Lenny Kravitz’s Dirty White Boots started playing as she took off her bra, revealing a pair of tits that made Robby’s mouth water. She did some more tricks on the pole before sliding out of her skirt to reveal a lacy thong. She strutted to the end of the stage, let a woman put some money in her thong before heading back to the pole. As the song was ending she ended her dance with a split, and looked over her shoulder at the crowd. Her eyes caught Robby’s and she winked.

You finished your set on the stage, grabbed your tips, and popped into the dressing room to put your clothes back on. You started working the floor, and made your way to the VIP section where you were looking for the man with the sad brown eyes you winked at.

Finding him sitting with two other men, you introduced yourself.

“Saw you watching me, big boy. How about a dance?” You ask.

“Yes, Robby will definitely take a dance,” the younger of the other men said. The older one just smirked.

“Uh, yeah. A dance would be great,” Robby said while blushing.

“John and I are paying,” the older one said.

“Jack is paying,” John said. Jack just rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. After money was exchanged you led Robby back to a private room.

“You’re getting pretty red there Robby,” you joke.

“Haven’t been in a club in a long time. It’s different now. You were amazing on that stage.”

“Thank you. Your last time in a club must have been a while ago, my set wasn’t that impressive.”

“It was, sweetheart. Don’t sell yourself short.” You smiled as you opened the door to your private room. Purple was everywhere. You led Robby to a plush purple chair and had him sit down. You went to the panel on the wall to queue up the two songs you loved dancing to. Robby took the entire room in. The purple couch, purple paintings on the walls, even the “no touching” sign was white with purple text.

“Purple is your favorite color?”

“What gave it away?” You laughed. Robby was easy to talk to. The first song started playing, Acquainted by The Weeknd. You walked over to Robby and started your dance. Robby sat with his arms to his side, seemingly unsure if he could touch you. You straddled his lap, facing him, and brought your lips to his ear.

“You can touch me, Robby, I won’t tell anyone” you said as you moved his hands to your hips. You gyrate along to the song, moving your hands along your body. You pull off your shirt, tossing it to the side.

“You got me touching on your body” The Weeknd sings while Robby’s hands grip you tighter. You get up and shimmy out of your skirt before going back to Robby’s lap, this time facing the wall. He brings his hands back to your hips, and you resume grinding on him. You can feel his erection growing and you can tell he’s big. The thought makes you smile. You lean back so his beard grazes your neck, which feels intoxicating.

The song ends and the next one starts up — Love In This Club by Usher. A perfect song to end the dance with. Usher’s voice just adds to the mood. You move Robby’s hands so they’re on your ribs now. Leaning back you whisper to him.

“Touch me, Robby. I want you to.” You don’t know what it is about him, but you are feeling him more than any other client you’ve ever had.

“Might as well give me a kiss, if we keep touching like this” Usher sings. You turn to face Robby, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him closer.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask in a whisper. Robby’s eyes widen but he nods. You slowly bring your lips to his. Robby brings a hand to your head and pulls you in. You deepen the kiss, exploring his mouth with your tongue. The song ends but neither of you pulls away. Eventually you come up for air. You look at him, searching his face. His eyes are dark and filled with lust.

“That’s…not something that usually happens, is it?” Robby asks you.

“No. Never. But I couldn’t help myself.” Robby smirks at your confession.

“Yeah? Hopefully not because you feel sorry for me,” he says. You scoff at the idea.

“Fuck, I never do this. But there’s something about you. Come home with me?” you ask. You blush, never having felt this connection with anyone, let alone a client.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Are you able to leave now?” You nod and go to put your clothes back on.

“Meet me out front? I need to grab my things.”

“And I need to let Jack and John know I’m leaving.”

You changed into jeans and a tee, leaving your lingerie on. It'll hopefully be on your floor sooner rather than later. You meet up with Robby outside the club.

“Hey there,” he says as you walk up to him.

“Hey yourself. You let your friends know you’re leaving?”

“Yup. And I endured some good natured ribbing. But you’re worth it,” Robby says as he kisses the top of your head. You grab his hand and lead him towards your apartment, just a few blocks from the club. Climbing the few steps into your building, you lead him to your door and into your place.

“Look, please don’t think this is my normal MO. I draw a line between my work and personal life.”

“I’m honored,” Robby says, drawing you in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. He flips you around so your back is against your wall, his arms caging you in.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. And I really, really need to taste you,” Robby says as he kisses your jaw, and then your neck. You allow him to pull your shirt and bra off as he continues to kiss down your chest and your stomach. Eventually he’s on his knees in front of you, pulling your jeans off. Once you’re standing in just your lingerie Robby begins to kiss up your legs. He eventually hooks one of your legs over his shoulders and begins to kiss your folds over your thong. You moan and grab his hair, pulling him closer and grind into his mouth. He keeps kissing your pussy. He stops just to pull your thong off, and dives back in. Very soon he has you at the edge, moaning as you come. He doesn’t stop, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm on his tongue.

“Fuck, Robby. Your mouth is heaven sent.” You pull him up and into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

“You taste like heaven.”

“Bedroom. Now,” you say between kisses. You take him by the hand and lead him to your bedroom. Laying back on your bed you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re a little over dressed aren’t you?” He smirks and pulls his top off in one move. You enjoy the view of his broad chest, coated in black chest hair. He had a chain with a Star of David on it, and a happy trail leading down past his pants. He removes his pants and boxers, letting you see his cock for the first time. He’s hard again, and longer than you’re used to. Cut, veiny, and already leaking precum. You pull him towards you and start kissing him again. When you go to kiss down his neck he stops you.

“As much as I want to see that pretty mouth of yours around my cock, I’m not going to last. And I want to be inside you tonight.” You blush a bit at Robby’s words but nod.

“Condoms should be in the bedside drawer,” you said. Robby grabs one, rips it open with his teeth, and rolls it on. He leans back above you and lines himself up.

“Ready sweetheart?”

“Fuck yes. I’ve wanted to feel you in me since I felt how hard you were in the club. Fuck me, Robby.” He smirks and slowly enters you. You’re still a little sensitive from your earlier orgasm, and you keen as Robby fills you up.

“Taking me so well, like you were made for me.” Robby begins to thrust, bringing one of your legs above his shoulder to get deeper. You moan at how full you are, and Robby moves a hand down to rub your clit. You pull him down for a kiss, not wanting to stop feeling him everywhere.

“Needy, aren’t we?”

“Fuck me harder Robby. I want to feel you for days.” Robby follows your command and begins to snap his hips back and forth, setting a furious pace. His necklace bounces off his chest and for some reason you find the movement so erotic.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Please I’m so close,” you beg.

“Not gonna stop until you’re coming around my cock, sweetheart.” Robby keeps up his pace until you’re coming again. All you can do is moan his name. With a final thrust Robby finishes. Panting he kisses you once more before getting up to toss the condom. You follow him into your bathroom and start up the shower. At Robby’s insistence you use the bathroom while the shower heats up. The two of you spend time in the shower washing the sex and sweat off of your bodies.

“Stay the night?” You ask as you rinse off his back. He nods, and you smile. Once you’re done in the shower you grab two towels, and you dry each other off.

“Um, I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” you giggle as the two of you make your way back to the bedroom.

“I run hot anyway.” You smile at him and grab a pair of underwear and a tank to sleep in. Robby tosses his boxers back on before crawling into bed, and you go to join him. He pulls you in close and you absentmindedly play with his chain.

“Remind me to give you my number in the morning. I start a new job in a few days and won’t be at the club much. And I want to see you again, if you want that.”

“I do,” Robby says. “And I need to take you out on a date. We kinda did this backwards from what I normally do.” You laugh and cuddle in closer, both of you falling asleep fairly quickly.

Three days later you send Robby a good morning text, having plans to meet the next evening at a local restaurant.

“Heading to my new job. Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need it, but good luck. See you tomorrow,” he replies.

“New R3 starts today,” Jack says to Robby as they work on handoffs.

“Right. Her old hospital closed, right? And she finally got placed with us?”

“Mid year, poor thing.”

“Hi, I’m looking for a Doctor Robinavitch? I’m starting today.” Robby and Jack’s heads snap up, recognizing the voice.

“Yeah, hun, he’s right there,” Dana says, pointing at you. Your eyes go wide as you see both Jack and Robby.

Shit.

[libraford]

Happy to see this in places where I usually find white nationalist stickers.

[001x456]

fanfic writers and fan artists are carrying fandoms. they are the backbone of fandoms.

thank you fanfic writers and fan artists

[psychoslvts]

i wanna cum on someones dick while they rape me. i wanna be begging and screaming for my life as they pound the shit out of me with a knife to my throat. i wanna look someone in the eyes and see the moment that they realize im gone, that ive caved to them, and feel them go even harder, faster, deeper. i wanna feel it coming and try to stop it as hard as i can "no no no please stop please dont" but i just cant help myself. i wanna squirt around their cock as i sob for mercy, unable to justify why i keep cumming if i "dont want it."

[laceyluvver]

we really shouldn’t

summary: you were having such a great night, your fake id worked, and you had a man lined up for the night. but then, your dads friend who is a fed, and definitely knows you’re not 21 turns up.

warnings: mdni, 18+!!!, AGE GAP! (READER IS OVER 20 and hotch is like 35!!), PIV, oral (f rec), reader has a smart mouth, aarons buttons are pushed, dad’s best friend! 

an: sorry i disappeared, i’ve been really ill with covid ! this is really self indulgent #needmeamunch. PLEASE REBLOG!!! likes don’t help the algorithm:( (but also like pls) 

wc: 3.8k

Friday night was the best night of the whole week. Friday night meant that class was over, no more nine am classes with drowsy old professors. But most of all, Friday night meant the DC streets were filled to the brim, not just students like on the Wednesday nights, Friday night meant busy. And busy meant getting into anywhere with a dodgy ID.

“Why are we going to this bar?” Your friend whines, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing up and down her triceps.

“Because, I know a bartender who will let Sarah Shipman into the bar.” You roll your eyes and flick your ID back and forth.

The line shuffled forward slowly, your boots scraping against the gravel pavement. It was colder than you’d anticipated, goosebumps pulling up on your thighs under your dress.

“ID’s please ladies.” The bouncer holds his hand out expectantly. Your friend hands hers over and he nods. You do the same with yours, shining his torch on it. His eyes flick from the picture to you, he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“Is James working tonight, James Green?” You sputter out, biting your lip and rocking back on your heels and batting your eyelashes at the bouncer.

“Yeah, you know him?” The bouncer scrunches his brow.

“Mhm.” You hum. “He told us to come along tonight, could you grab him?” You bite your lip, and he nods, spinning on his foot and disappearing into the bar.

The bouncer yanks the door back open, James lingering behind him. “Hi.” Lifting your hand to waist height you give him a small wave.

“They’re all good, I know her.” He nods, and opens the door wider, letting you in under his arm. Coming up behind you he wraps an arm around your shoulder, leaning into your ear. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” He whispers and you can’t help the light giggle that escapes your lips.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You bite your lip and hop up into the bar stool. “First round on you?”

He closes the hatch on the other side of the bar, and sighs. “First round on me. What can I get you?” He grabs two glasses and places them down.

“Double vodka coke.” Your friend chimes in, flashing him a smile.

“Double vodka orange, please.” Pouring the shots and the mixers into the glasses, he slides them over the bar and you pull the straw into your mouth.

“I’ll find you on my break.” He winks, stepping away to go and serve another customer on the other side of the bar.

Pulling your friend away from the bar and over to the booths, each of you slide into opposite sides and you see her shake her head at you.

“What?” You question, sipping on your drink.

“He’s like… thirty.” She raised her eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Thirty five.” You mutter into your straw, glancing over to the bar where James is there shaking a cocktail.

“Thirty five!” She exclaims, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Girl, you have a problem.” She laughs and slaps your arm across the table.

“A problem that got us free drinks.” You smile widely, leaning back into the booth. “It’s started to get busy now.”

The dance floor had started to fill up, the music thumping and vibrating in your ears and chest. A couple more doubles later, you were feeling the buzz in the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Do you want to go dance!” She shouts from across the table, shuffling out of the booth and holding out of her hand.

“Yeah, let me chug my drink.” You shout back, gulping down the rest of your drink and placing your hand in hers.

Dancing in the bar was one of your favourite pastimes, coupled with the buzz of a hefty amount of alcohol, a great song and good company, it was unbeatable.

The unmissable thump of the beat, the press of strangers all around you as you raise your hands above your head and your friend wraps hers around your neck.

“Can you get us another drink?” She shouts closer into your ear, nodding you snake your way out of the crowd of tightly packed bodies.

Waiting in the line for the bar you tap your foot on the wooden floor impatiently. You scan the rest of the people cramming the bar. The back of a sleek, black suit catches your eye and the broad shoulders that stretches the material. Long legs, expensive shoes, cropped dark hair. Exactly what you liked.

Ordering your drinks, you keep glancing over, his back still turned. “Thank you!” You mouth to the bartender and glance over your shoulder one more time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, and extra hoping it lived up to his ass.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. Fortunately, the face very much did live up to the ass. Unfortunately, it just happened to be your dad’s newest golf buddy, one you were told to not mess around with and, one that was a fed who happened to definitely know you weren’t twenty one.

His eyebrows furrow as the two of you make eye contact, you can almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes. Giving him a tight lipped smile and a nod, you duck away into the crowd, disappearing from his eyeline.

“We’re fucked.” You shout into your friends ear, her having found a guy from your criminology class.

“What? Why?” She shouts back, her hand gripping onto his bicep.

“My dad’s friend is here, he’s a fed.” You wrap your lips around your straw and chug half of your drink.

“Ok correction. You’re fucked, i’m of age.” She smiles at you and you roll your eyes.

Then, your phone buzzes in your small bag, pulling it out you see a message from James lighting up the screen.

‘I’m in the smoking area.’

“Are you going to go?” She asks, widening her eyes at you and flicking them down to the phone screen.

“Do you want me to go?” You smirk at her and look at the guy from your criminology class, now moving to put an arm around her.

She nods, and you step away. Before your back even turned the pair started to make out, pushing through the packed crowd.

You’re not as cold outside this time, the vodka you had warming you from inside. It was much quieter out there, however you could still hear the music clearly, fading in and out when the doors opened and closed.

“Hey!” James calls from a bench, cigarette in his hands, he waves you over and pats the seat next to him.

Sitting on the top of the table, feet on the seat you smile down at him. “Hey.” You hold out a hand for the cigarette.

“No.” He laughs, shaking his head back and forth, taking a drag for himself and a swig out of a beer bottle. “I’m not giving you another bad habit.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” You patronise, bending down to his eye level, “So you’ll let me into a bar, serve me drinks underage, and fuck me. But you won’t give me a puff of a cig?” You whisper in his ear, and you’re sure you’ve shocked him into silence. Taking it from his fingers, you bring it to your lips and take a drag.

“That’s what I thought.” You flash your teeth at him, leaning back and you feel his hand snake around your ankle.

“You’re going to get me into trouble.” He says with a snort.

“Yes, she is.” You didn’t know where he had come from, but now he was stood over the two of you at the bench. “Especially because she’s underage.”

“Hello Aaron.” You roll your eyes at him, and you feel James’ hand slip off of your ankle and back to his side.

“What are you doing at a bar.” He states, face stone cold, keeping a close eye on the man next to you.

“I’m not in a bar, I’m sat outside of one. That’s not illegal.” You smirk at him and blow some cigarette smoke in his general direction.

“I saw you inside.” He glares at you. Your eyes scan his body, his suit is expertly pressed, you wonder if he put it on especially for the bar. His black shoes have no scuffs, tie in a tight and precise windsor knot.

“I was never inside of the bar, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shrug, leaving an elbow on your knees and then your face in the same hand.

His questioning turns to James, pulling out his badge and flashing it. You groan at his dramatics. “How do you know her?”

“We’re friends.”

“Didn’t look very friendly from where I was standing.” His eyes narrow and you glare with the same intensity back.

“So when a man and a woman love each other very much.” You send a fake pout his way and you can tell you’re starting to push his buttons.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” He asks you, his jaw clenched tight, a hand now coming to rest on his hip.

“What do you think?” The sarcasm drips from your lips and you blow more smoke in his direction, hoping he would clear off.

“Don’t.” His tone is a warning, a warning you were going to ignore.

“My breaks over.” James mutters, clambering out from the bench and giving a nod in your direction before he disappears through the bar door.

“You’re a prick.” You’re sure you growl at him, and blow more smoke in his face, he brings a hand up to waft it away. The grey smoke twists and turns in the air and disperses as his hand cuts through it.

“I said, don’t.” He repeats, his frustration growing, eyebrows pulling together even more.

“Or what?” You do it again. He moves quickly. His hand comes up to your lips and snatches it from your mouth, putting it out under his perfectly shiny shoes. “Hey!”

He takes a swig from the beer bottle in his hand and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s illegal.”

“What are you going to do Agent? Arrest me?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, he rolls his eyes.

You lean back on your hands, giving you a great angle to look up to him. You feel the bottom of your dress climb up your bare thighs with you leaning back. You make no effort to pull it down.

“He’s too old for you, he’s what 35?” He scoffs, shaking his head, “Go out with a nice boy your own age.”

“What if I don’t want a nice boy my age? What if I want a man?” You were shamelessly flirting now, your father’s words damned. Aaron Hotchner was a tall glass of cool water that you desperately wanted a sip of.

“That’s enough i’m taking you home.” He grabs the top of your forearm, yanking you upwards. “And before you say anything, i’ve had half a beer.”

His hand grips tightly onto your wrist, pulling you away from the bar and down the street to where his very sleek sports car was parked. “Get in.”

His thick arm holds open the door and you climb into the seat and buckle your seatbelt. You cross your arms across your chest with a huff.

“Take me to my apartment, not my dad’s house.” You instruct him.

“I have every right to take you to your dad and tell you you’re underage drinking and sleeping with men almost twice your age.” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“So what do you think he will think when I turn up to the house with another man double my age?” You smirk, and lean back in the seats, the expensive leather touching your skin.

“I’m his friend, he knows I wouldn’t.” He clenches his jaw so hard you think his teeth might crack.

“So why did he tell me to stay away from you?”

This takes him off guard and he looks at you in light shock, spit catching in the back of his mouth, causing him to clear his throat.

“My apartment it is then.” You smile, happy to have got your way. Crossing one leg over the other, your dress rides up again, exposing the soft skin on the tops of your thighs.

He sits in a glowering silence, glaring at the slate grey road in front of him. Knuckles turning white from his hard grip on the steering wheel. His foot pressing down on the pedal hard, halting the car to a full stop.

“Get out.” He orders, tone rough.

You comply, walking around the front of the car, giving him a full view of you, adjusting the deep v neck of your dress. Waggling your fingers at him, an attempt at a wave, you make your way to the front door to the foyer of your apartment.

A hand pushes the door open from above your head and he lets you walk in before him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, flicking your hair over your shoulder.

“Making sure you get to your apartment ok.” He stands next to you as the elevator doors drag open, the silver box is empty.

“I’m not even drunk anymore, you’re so overprotective.” You scoff, striding into the elevator and pressing the button for floor 5.

Leaning against the wall of the elevator, you absentmindedly look at your nails, scraping at the cuticle and pretending to not feel the firey hot glare that was burning a hole through your head. You swore that the elevator was purposely going at the slowest it could, making the ride as gruelling as possible. There was only so long you could stare at your nails.

Finally, the doors separated and you strode to your apartment door, hearing the shoes thumping along behind you. His silence was deafening. Your keys jangle and it slides into the lock. You could feel the breath on the back of your neck.

Stepping in through your apartment door, you spin on your foot and lean the door against your hip, leaving him with not even a glance into your apartment.

“Thanks for the ride.” Smiling at him, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth, yanking at it with your teeth.

“Go to bed.” He grunts, walking away down the corridor and back to the elevator.

“You know it’s a shame.” You start and you watch his step falter but he keeps walking away. “I was looking forward to being fucked by you.”

Not looking for his reaction you close the front door, and pull your dress over your head. You hoped he liked black lace. Glancing down at your watch, the seconds tick by.

A loud knock echoes through your apartment, you decide to make him wait. Sitting on the arm of your couch, still observing your watch face. Another knock comes, this one faster. Deciding to stop the torture, you pull the door open.

Before you can get another snarky comment from between your lips, large hands wrap around your waist and pull you up around his body. Pushing you against the door, his lips meet yours.

You grasp onto his shoulders and kiss him back with a hot intensity that makes him groan into your mouth, and his teeth to pull on your bottom lip. This pulls a moan from your throat and your head to thump back against the door. This leaves the column of your neck exposed, and his lips attach to them, kissing at the base of your jaw. Then to the middle of your throat, sucking shallowly and nipping at the skin leaving a trail of red marks.

“You’re-Lucky-Your-Dad-Is-A-Dick.” He says in between kisses, making his way back up to your lips and planting a rough kiss to punctuate his last word. “Bedroom?” He asks and you point to the door just past the kitchen.

He doesn’t put you down, and carries you across the apartment and opening your bedroom door and laying you gently on your bed.

“You usually wear things like that underneath your dresses?” He asks, eyes dragging down your body, and shrugging off his blazer and laying it in the chair in your room. A hand pulls up and undoes the knot and throws it with his blazer.

“Yeah, jealous?” You smirk, leaning back on your elbows just as you did at the bench earlier, parting your legs slightly.

The first couple buttons on his shirt are pulled open now, and he crawls up the length of your bed. You can see his chest hair, his fingers drag up the length of your leg, hand coming to rest on your hip. “I could still arrest you for underage drinking you know, don’t get snarky.” His deep voice reverberates in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whine crawl from your chest when he bit down on your earlobe.

“Going to handcuff me, Agent.” You bite your lip and pull the insides of your eyebrows together.

He groans and slides his hands up to your lace bra, the texture soft as anything under his fingers. “Another time.” He mumbles, and kisses down your stomach. Coming to a stop at your hips, he bites into your flesh and slides the matching panties down your legs and throws them with his blazer and tie.

He presses kisses to the inside of your thighs, hands snaking under them and gripping them apart. Again, he bites into your skin, leaving a row of pink teeth marks. “Can I?”

“God, yes.” You nod feverishly, looking down at his floppy deep black hair falling over his forehead as his lips attach to your clit and pulling it into his mouth. “Oh fuck!” You cry out and your back arches off the mattress and your hands dart down to the said floppy hair and gripping on to it to ground yourself.

He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, flicking his tongue lightly making your toes to curl downwards and the octave of your voice to peak upwards.

“Aaron!” He’s gripping you to his face as he devours you like he might die if he doesn’t get a taste.

Your hands come to grip your floral sheets between your fingers, pulling it up and your thighs clenching around his head. A finger slides up and in between your folds and nudges into your entrance as his mouth still works furiously on your clit and pumps his finger in and out.

“Ah!” A string of moans fly from you, and you’re sure you’re suffocating him in between your legs. You glance down and you see his deep brown eyes looking up at your undoing. And that is enough to push you over the edge and your thighs tremble and you call out his name and your eyes roll back into your head and your head falls back into the pillow.

Opening your eyes, he’s hovering above your head and pops his finger into his mouth, sucking off your juices.

“Take your pants off.” You pant, reaching down and try to fumble with the button, but your arms are still weak from the orgasm that was still clouding your vision.

He pulls them off himself, then his shirt and they join the ever growing pile of clothes on your chair. As he does that, you reach into your bedside table and pull out a condom and pass it over to him.

You almost drool as you see him pull it over his cock, it was big. It looked heavy and like a great time.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You say in a desperate whisper, pulling him on top of you, tilting your hips upwards.

“Why should I? All you’ve done is be a brat.” He slides the head of his cock along you, resting it at your entrance and leaving it there.

“Please,” You whine, your hands snaking up to his shoulders and digging your nails in gently, “I need it.”

After what feels like an eternity of teasing, the head brushing against your clit making you jolt, his cock slides in and fills you to the brim. “Mmm” You hum as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

“God, you’re tight.” He groans, and you roll him onto his back, attaching your lips to his as you bounce up and down on his length and groaning onto each other’s mouths.

The tip of his cock bucks the spongy part inside of you that makes you cry out so loud you knew your neighbour’s would leave a note on the door in the morning. “Oh, Aaron!”

His hands wrap around your ass for leverage as he plants his feet flat onto the mattress and starts to pound up into you. You swear you can feel your brain melt out of your skull.

You could feel every inch of him as he pumps in and out, driving you crazy and your nails drag down his chest and stroking the soft hair on his chest.

He was letting out moans himself, whispering your name into your ear and groaning deeply into the back of his throat. His thrusts get more frantic as you get closer to the edge again, clamping around him like a vice and kissing him again, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

Your thighs start to shake again, and the short punctual thrusts brush your g-spot just enough to shove you over that delicious edge. Tightening around him you rest your forehead against his as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm small whines pushed out at every thrust, as he releases into the condom himself.

You flop down next to him on the opposite side of your bed. “Jesus.” You sigh, stretching your legs out and arms above your head.

He pulls the condom off, tying it off at the top and placing it in the bin in the corner of the room and he joins you under the sheets, still bare.

“We’re so dead.” You giggle and your head rests on his shoulder, fiddling with his chest hair.

“Worth it.” He smiles at you for the first time, it’s a rare sight that you know you’ll cherish. “Good thing I don’t like your Dad that much.” Now his smile is cheeky and you laugh again.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “So can I say we will be doing this again?” Looking up at him expectantly, you can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach.

“Oh, I don’t think I can live without this now.”

-

part two is here!!

an/ hello!! am back! sorry i went missing, but i will be writing a lot more now! please reblog! <3 love ya.

[fertilise-me]

And there's a part 2 too!! RUN DON'T WALK!!

[pope-codys]

pope-codys pittcember

day twenty: star gazing (jack abbot x reader)

summary: jack shows you his favourite spot

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader

words: 950

tags: fluff, teasing, flirting, jack loves his wife

"Jack, where are we going?" You whispered, your voice light with laughter as your husband led you quietly out the back door of his sisters house.

This was your and Jacks second Christmas together as a married couple and you'd agreed to spend it at his eldest sisters farmhouse with the rest of his extended family. The farmhouse had belonged to Jacks grandparents and he'd spend many summers and holidays here with his sisters when he was young.

Now he was walking you, hand in hand in the dark, through the snow of his sisters backyard, to an undisclosed location. The snow crunched under your feet as you followed happily, trusting your husband and finding the sneaky grin on his face when he'd roused you close to midnight too intriguing to ignore.

"It's a surprise." Jack replied as he walked confidently through the open field. It was really cold out, the kind of cold that made your skin feel tight and froze your nostril hairs when you breathed in. Thankfully Jack had directed you to bundle up in your coat, gloves, hat, and scarf.

Looking ahead of you both, you spotted a tall tree, bare of all leaves, with a dark mass in the center of the branches. As you got to the base of the tree you were able to see more clearly in the moonlight.

"A treehouse?" You asked, your voice rising in surprise and excitement. Jack smiled at you and gestured to the rope ladder.

"Ladies first." You shot Jack a wry look, before starting your ascent. Jack put his boot on the last rung to help steady the ladder as you climbed.

"You can pretend you're being a gentleman but I know you're letting me go first so you can look at my butt." You said over your shoulder. You caught Jacks fake expression of shock and laughed.

"I would never! Scouts honour!" Jack replied, mitten covered hand over his heart. You hoisted yourself through the opening in the treehouse floor and looked back down at Jack who was climbing up. "Besides I can't see anything with your winter coat in the way."

"You still look." You countered. A devious smile stretched across your husbands as he looked up at you.

"Of course." Jack finished his climb as you got up onto your feet, surveying the small space. The treehouse was old and not cared for, which was evident from the hole in the roof and the general disarray of the space. However, someone had cleaned up the treehouse recently. The dirt, dead leaves, and debris had been swept to the side and a plaid blanket had been carefully laid down on the floor. There was a stack of two blankets on the floor as well.

Jack joined you in the small space and directed you to lie down on the prepared blanket as he unfolded the extras and covered you with them to help keep you warm.

"Thermal blankets?" You asked and Jack nodded. "My husband, always prepared."

"If I'm gonna drag you out of bed in the middle of the night in the dark and the cold, I'm gonna make sure you're as warm as possible." Jack replied as he got settled down next to you, the material of your winter coats rubbing together. He turned his attention above you both and you followed his gaze to see that the hole in the roof was right about you.

Out on the farm in the middle of nowhere, with not a light for miles, provided you with the clearest view of the stars you'd ever seen. The sky was a deep midnight blue and the stars shone brightly in the dark. You couldn't help but smile as your eyes mapped over the constellations. Jack turned his attention to you and watched the wonder on your face, a warm, satisfied feeling filling his chest. A star streaked across the sky and you gasped.

"Jack! A shooting star!" You pointed up to the spot the star had been.

"That's good luck." Jack replied. You nudged his shoulder.

"Yeah? They teach you that in scouts?" You teased playfully. Jack looked at you in mock hurt, his mouth open in indignation, which made you laugh.

"You're so mean to me." Jack lamented and you laughed harder. "I bring you up here to have a romantic moment and you make fun of me."

"Romantic moment? That better be all it is because it is way too cold out here for you to put the moves on me." You teased further, poking his side. Jack scoffed and lifted his arm to provide a space for you to snuggle up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder and gazed up at the night sky as his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You fell into a comfortable silence, your foggy breaths filling the air was the only movement between you. You'd always loved nighttime in the winter. The way it got quiet, the snow muting any noise, and how everything stopped. You liked the stillness. In a world where everything need to be fast and instant and the people around you had no patience for anything, being out at night in the winter was like pressing the pause button.

"This is really pretty Jack, thank you." Jack rested his cheek against the top of your head and hummed in agreement. Suddenly Jacks watch beeped and he raised his other hand to turn the alarm off. You craned your neck back to look over at him as he looked at you, your cold noses touching.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. Abbot." He said softly.

"Merry Christmas Mr. Abbot." You whispered back as you cupped the back of his head with your gloved hand and pressed a kiss to his cold lips.

pittcember masterlist

dividers by @ strangergraphics

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[oh-good]

this is a Christmas post for you to like and unlike over and over to see the little snowy animation they have rn

[legalmente-loca-blog]

Pairing: Dark!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: +18, smut, masturbation (male receiving), harassment, breaking in your house, panties kink, Pervert!Dean

Here is the first part

Dean couldn’t stop thinking about you. Before he closed his eyes, he’d see you in his mind’s eye, beautiful. When he slept, he’d dream of you, and when he woke up, he’d follow you like a vulture following a dead body. He’d even managed to get into your house through your broken bedroom window.

Dean didn’t even think twice. He went straight to your wardrobe and looked at your underwear. But no, it was no good. They didn’t smell like you. So he went to the dirty clothes hamper and rummaged through them like a starved man until he finally found a pair of panties that satisfied him. He lifted them up with two fingers and inspected them; there was a white stain in the center, and he buried his nose in it, breathing deeply. He let out a slow exhale, his eyes quivering. It was perfect. He pulled his jeans down enough to let his cock slide out and rubbed your panties against him. He moaned, throwing his head back. He stroked himself slowly up and down, the fabric ripping against his skin feeling exquisite. He moved your panties faster, but something was missing.

It wasn’t quite where he wanted it to be.

He looked around and spotted your bed, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. He lay on his stomach, his face against your pillow, smelling your shampoo. He inhaled as he moved his hips against your sheets and the panties around his cock, imagining it was the friction of your insides he was experiencing at the moment.

He moaned against the pillow, a bit of saliva leaking from his mouth. The wet sounds his cock, already lubricated by his precum, was making could be heard throughout the room. And then he heard the front door keys, but to say he didn’t mind was an understatement. Quite the opposite… It turned him on even more.

Knowing you were nearby, that you might catch him masturbating in your bed, made his movements quicken. He wished you would find him, that he would be forced to grab you and hold you against the bed to finish what he’d started. With that thought in mind, he let out a loud moan, muffled by the pillow. His hips stuttered, and his cum spurted against the bed and your panties. He took a few moments to himself, slowly rubbing his face against your pillow. He turned over and took a deep breath, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. He inspected the hand still wrapped around his cock and watched as his cum clung to your panties as if they wanted to belong there. Your footsteps grew closer, and he sat up. He considered it, fighting with himself whether to stay still and watch what was happening or get up and leave.

He shook his head and chose the latter. Not yet, it wasn’t the time.

Dean climbed out the window he came in through, panties in the back pocket of his jeans and took one last look at the stain on your sheets and smiled, knowing that now you would sleep with a part of him every night.

Dean Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[fertilise-me]

🥵😋 Delightfully filthy!! 🤪🥰

[innorality]

based on this post lol

oral sex and... weird alien anatomy

"...clark, what is that." your face froze in shock.

how could you have forgotten that your clark kent was none other than... an extra terrestrial? a kryptonian, at that.

in your defense, his appearance doesn't really scream alien aside maybe from his height, so the information just slipped out of your mind.

it was when you were met face to face with his cock, that you remembered his true nature.

"w-what do you mean? it's.. it's my..." he looked away from your kneeling form, embarrassed at the thought of saying such a word. "I know what that is, I'm asking you what this," and your finger rubbed against the... buds? soft hooks? that were on the side of his dick which made his silently shudder "...is". "is that not a normal thing...? you know, to grab onto you..?" he questioned innocently.

there's a silence for a moment, "clark, I love you, but there's no way in hell you thought every human had... these." you deadpanned before he started squirming, his thighs clenching. "you're making me self conscious..." "don't be! it's just... my first time with an alien, I guess."

he took a deep breath, "you know, if you don't want to do this, I could still just–- oooh, gosh..." he cut himself off with a low moan that rumbled from deep within his chest right when you licked up the buds. "feels nice?" your eyes flickered up at him as he nodded intensely, mouthing a small 'keep going'.

you smiled warmly at him before licking your lips and kissing his bulbous tip, sinking down on him as your jaw struggled to accommodate to his size. his hips jerked when the soft hooks brushed against your cheeks. "shhi– shoot..." he caught himself, his hand sneaking into your hair.

clark caressed your scalp softly as you got down to halfway of his cock, telling you to "breath," and "r-relax f'me, baby..." as if he were any more relaxed than you.

when you paused to breath through your nose, he peeled his eyes open and met your intense gaze, looking up at him with the cutest doe eyes he had ever seen. wet lashes batting up at him in sync with the sounds of your gargling.

the buds didn't feel uncomfortable in your mouth—they were soft and squishy—but it still distinctively different. yet, the thought of sucking extra terrestrial dick did make you squirm a bit.

after a few moments of the both of you catching your breaths, you finally decided to move.

he crumbled.

you were barely a few bobs in before he turned into a whimpering mess, calling out your name desperately as his back ached involuntarily. "oh my– i-it feels so- you're p-perfect, so goddamn perfect..."

the praises go straight to your core, fueling you to go even faster. you pulled up quickly, circling his tip with your tongue and sucking on it harder—which made him whisper out a small "f-fuck.." that you did not miss at all—before moving the side to suck on each bud.

you felt them harden slightly, but you didn't pay much mind to it. you pulled away, opting to stroke him for a moment. "am I doing good, so far?" you knew you were doing amazing, but you questioned him anyway because you loved a good stroke on your ego.

"s-so amazing, pretty." he slurred, his eyes slowly going for the ceiling as he was completely letting go of himself, losing his every thought at each pump of your hand.

your other hand went for his heavy balls, playing with them softly and smiling when you see him completely throwing his head back.

when you put your mouth back on him, he couldn't hold back.

and he tried.

he really did.

but when he felt your pretty lips stretch around his girth to take him, when he felt you warm sticky throat parting to welcoming him again, and when he felt the inside of your cheeks brushing against his buds? he just couldn't hold it in.

suddenly, the 'soft hooks'—as you would describe them—hardened and hooked on the inside of your cheeks, halting any and every movement. his hand that was still in your hair tightened quickly, gripping your scalp as he spilled his seed into your throat, gasping out your name.

"holy– oh my- you're so fuckin'... why are you so fucking p-p-perfect, holy shit..!" he could barely hold in his profanities, the sound of you swallowing his cum too much for him to bear.

when he finished, the buds softened again, allowing you to pull away. he let go of your hair, quickly regaining his lucidity. "o-oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! i-i didn't mean to-" he tried to apologize but you cut him off with a smile made of sin, your gaze darkening.

"those... hooks. don't you think they'd be pretty useful for breeding?"

part 2 :p

[sc3ptre]

Flood warning week

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-1110

Summary: Seven days of Simon Riley ruining your ability to walk straight and your underwear drawer in the sweetest way possible.

Classification and content warnings: Smut +18 | explicit sexual content, basically PWP, established relationship, soft-dom!Simon Riley, daily sex (Monday through Sunday), fingering, oral (f receiving), clothed sex, dry humping, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, masturbation via video, use of sex toys, size, praise and mild possession kink, panties used as cock ring, cum play, extreme fluff between the filth, no condoms used.

Word count: 3,6k

Divider by me ;)

Simon could look as tough as he wished at work but when he was with you, he was the softest soul there ever was…except for that not-so-soft dick of his. Your sexual life with Simon never really got interrupted, it didn’t matter where you were. If you needed him, he wouldn’t deny you. 

This is what a full week of orgasms looked like.

On Monday, you were getting ready for work while Simon was just coming home from his shift at the base. He found you in the bathroom, bathrobe loosely tied around your body as you prepped your skin with lotions and serums, products Simon didn’t see the need for but automatically bought whenever he noticed you were running low.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” you smiled as he dragged his feet inside, exhaustion etched into his broad frame. Instead of giving you a quick debrief on what had happened during his shift to get you up to speed, he let his chin fall to your shoulder, his large hand parting the robe to caress your bare skin. 

He liked to start the week right and that usually included thorough morning sex, something he would’ve been thrilled to dive into if he hadn’t been called in the night before. His fingers immediately sought out your clit, circling it slowly as he asked in murmurs how you slept and apologized for ruining the morning plans. The gentle pressure built a slick heat between your thighs, your arousal coating his fingertips as they delved deeper, seeking your entrance. He curled them inside you, stroking that sensitive spot with expert precision while lifting his eyes to meet yours in the mirror, slowly blinking as pleasure began warming your body from the core outward.

Your bathrobe slipped from your shoulder, exposing a pebbled nipple that he rolled between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just enough to send sparks racing down your spine. He finally decided to bring you up to speed on his shift, his voice low and gravelly, knowing full well not much would stick in your mind amid the rising tension. The air grew thick with your shared breaths, your pussy clenching around his invading fingers as slick seeped down your inner thighs, making everything slippery and urgent. The coil in your belly tightened unbearably, every curl of his digits pushing you closer to the edge until your body sagged against his, waves of orgasm crashing through you. Your walls pulsed greedily around him, gushing slick that dripped onto his hand and the bathroom floor in messy rivulets, your cries muffled as ecstasy left you trembling and spent.

He followed it with a soft kiss on your cheek before retreating to the mattress for a deep, much-needed sleep as if it had been him who just came undone at 4 a.m.

Tuesday’s orgasms were more of a ‘before lunch’ affair. You usually had those very important meetings with the ‘suits,’ as he called them and to his delight, this week you’d chosen a pencil skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, meaning his actual lunch was dessert and you were his main course. He pulled you into his office with a firm grip on your wrist, all but lifting you onto his desk, shoving aside papers in his haste. Removing his mask with a swift tug, he bunched up your skirt around your hips, hooked his fingers into your panties and yanked them down, stuffing the damp fabric into his pocket like a trophy before draping your legs over his broad shoulders.

Simon was very much an eater and just like he liked a full plate, he dove in with unrelenting focus, his tongue lapping at your exposed pussy with broad, hungry strokes. The tension simmered from the moment his hot breath ghosted over your folds, your clit throbbing in anticipation as he spread you open with his fingers, exposing every inch to his merciless mouth. He sucked and flicked with precision, building the pressure until your hips bucked against his face, pushing his head deeper into your core. 

Slick arousal coated his chin and lips, the wet sounds of his feasting echoing in the confined space as your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on. The coil wound tighter, your body arching off the desk as the overwhelm hit until your orgasm ripped through you like a storm, pussy clenching and squirting a messy flood that soaked his tongue and dripped down his chin. He didn’t stop, slurping every drop with obscene noises over your muffled moans, drawing out the shudders until you were a boneless heap.

When he finally pulled back, lips glistening with your release, he captured your mouth in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. Then, casually, he opened his Tupperware and spooned food into his mouth like a Neanderthal, all while you lay there blinking up at him, thighs still quivering.

“Wot?” he’d ask, mouth full, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“My underwear,” you deadpanned, voice husky from the aftershocks.

He shrugged, spooning more of his lunch. “Skirt’s long enough…got things to do with it later.”

On Wednesday, you were sure Simon would storm into your office exactly at 4:56 p.m., frustrated after a training session with a military group. He absolutely hated it, they weren’t good enough or willing to go as hard as he wished, so instead of yelling at some poor 20-year-old, he hid in your office. You always let him sit on your chair, pulling you onto his lap, not his thigh or knees, but straight onto his hardening cock, the thick length pressing insistently against your clothed pussy through the layers of fabric.

During his time there, he wouldn’t say anything at first, just focusing on his breathing and the frustration boiling in his veins. His hand placed firm on your hip, eventually started to rock you slowly, back and forth over his bulge. The friction ignited a slow burn, your clit grinding against the rigid outline of his dick with each subtle shift, building a delicious tension that made your core ache with need. This was more of a couples’ affair, a stolen moment where you forgot your paperwork and Simon stopped counting how many pairs of underwear he’d ruined just like this. 

His cock was so big you could feel every inch of it straining beneath you, the heat seeping through as your arousal soaked into your panties, creating a slippery mess that eased the glide.

The rhythm quickened, breaths mingling in the dim space as the pressure mounted, your hips rolling in sync with his guidance. Wetness pooled between your legs eventually darkening the fabric and smearing against his pants, the shared friction pushing you both toward release like two frustrated teenagers dry-humping in secret. The tension peaked in a shared gasp, your orgasm hit first, pussy spasming wildly as you ground down hard, soaking your underwear with a gush of slick that seeped through to coat his cock. He followed seconds later, a low groan rumbling from his chest as his dick throbbed and pulsed, hot cum flooding his pants in thick spurts that mixed with your mess, leaving everything sticky and ruined between you.

On Thursday, Simon had been out of the country. It often happened, so you hadn’t been at all surprised. The house felt empty and silent in a way you should’ve been accustomed to by then but weren’t, the quiet amplifying the ache of his absence. Late that night, an email pinged from his personal account, the subject line simple: “Open at home.” Since you were already home, curled up in bed wrapped in one of his oversized shirts that still carried his faint scent, you opened it at full volume, the screen glowing in the dim room.

The video started with Simon sitting back in what looked like a sparse hotel room, his tactical pants shoved down just enough to free his thick cock. His large hand wrapped around the veined shaft, your Tuesday panties from the office still faintly stained with your arousal were twisted around the base like a makeshift cock ring. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight, heat flooding your core as his heavy breathing filled the silence, ragged and shameless. He stroked himself slowly at first, the camera angled to capture every inch of his length glistening with precum that beaded at the tip and smeared down with each pump.

Your pulse raced, thighs pressing together as slick gathered between them. You immediately reached for the drawer on his side of the bed, fingers trembling slightly as you rifled through the toys. A vibrator or the dildo replica of his cock? The decision came quick, you grabbed both, the thick silicone molded from him feeling almost like home in your grip. You stripped off your panties, the shirt riding up as you spread your legs, positioning the phone for a clear view of his fist flying faster now, grunts punctuating the wet schlick of skin on skin.

The tension built like a storm, your pussy throbbing with need as you teased your entrance with the dildo’s blunt head, coating it in your dripping arousal. You pushed it in deep, the stretch mimicking his girth, walls fluttering around the intrusion as you turned on the vibrator and pressed it to your swollen clit. Simon’s video looped on your screen…his cock swelling, veins bulging, the panties tightening as he edged himself. 

You fucked yourself harder, the dildo plunging in and out with obscene squelches, your other hand working the vibrator. The pressure coiled tighter, breaths coming in gasps that matched his on-screen moans. When he finally came, ropes of thick cum erupting over his knuckles and splattering the panties in messy white streaks, your own release shattered through you. Your pussy clamped down on the toy, gushing slick that soaked the sheets and your thighs in a hot, slippery flood, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly against your pulsing clit as waves of ecstasy left you arching and shuddering, breathless and drenched.

It was as delicious as he’d believed it would be, the afterglow leaving you sated but yearning for the real thing.

Luckily for you, he was back Friday night. The plan hadn’t been to do anything that day, he was bone-tired from the trip, muscles aching under his skin but as you sat on his thigh in the living room, his arm draped loosely around your waist while he told you about the non-confidential parts of his mission in that slow, deep voice of his. The thigh riding just…happened. The solid muscle of his leg flexed beneath you, denim rough against your shorts and you shifted experimentally, grinding down with a subtle roll of your hips. Slick heat bloomed instantly, soaking through the thin fabric as the friction ignited sparks along your clit.

As tired as he was, Simon encouraged it, his free hand sliding to your hip to guide your movements, eyes half-lidded and dark with quiet hunger. 

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, voice gravelly from disuse, watching intently as you moaned softly and threw your head back, the tension winding through your body like a live wire. Your shorts grew damper by the second, the wet patch spreading as you rocked faster, chasing the pressure building against his unyielding thigh. His muscle tensed under you, providing the perfect ridge to hump against, your arousal seeping through to leave a glossy trail on his jeans.

The room filled with the soft sounds of your labored breaths and the slick slide of fabric, his grip tightening as your pace grew frantic. The coil snapped suddenly, your orgasm ripping through you, pussy spasming wildly as you ground down hard. You cried out, body trembling against him, nails digging into his shoulders while aftershocks pulsed through your core, leaving you limp and panting in his lap.

Weekend sex was arguably the best thing ever for both of you. You just loved dearly the unhurried indulgence after a week of stolen moments.

On Saturday, as he sat manspreading on the couch with a cold beer in hand, eyes fixed on the game flickering across the TV, you couldn’t resist. His cock strained painfully hard against his sweats from watching you walk around, the outline thick and inviting and you slid down onto it with a shared sigh, impaling yourself fully as you settled back against his chest. The stretch burned deliciously, your pussy walls hugging every inch of his girth, already clenching in greedy anticipation. Most of the time, if not all, you both talked about literally anything else, as if you weren’t joined so intimately, his hips occasionally twitching up to nudge deeper.

His hand rested casually over your clit and where you were connected, fingers splayed to feel the slick heat of your union. You became wetter by the second, arousal dripping down his shaft to pool at the base and soak into the couch cushions beneath him. He brought the beer bottle to your lips for a cooling sip, the fizz contrasting the building fire in your veins, before taking one of his own, the casual domesticity heightening the erotic undercurrent.

Conversation flowed about the weather, his next shift or your week at work but your body betrayed the distraction, inner muscles fluttering around him as tension simmered low and insistent. Eventually, your pussy walls began clenching around his cock, trying to suck him in deeper, unabashedly milking him for every drop of cum he had. He lifted his hand from your clit, tapping it lightly in a random rhythm, firm presses that sent jolts through your oversensitive nerves, waiting between each for your body to react. It was really like Morse code, yet it wasn’t words he was transmitting but pure, teasing control, each tap building the pressure without mercy.

After what felt like an eternity of that torturous play, you didn’t need rubbing to provoke an orgasm, it crashed over you unprecedentedly, your pussy convulsing in rhythmic squeezes that gripped his cock like a vice, flooding him with a torrent of slick that overflowed and trickled down his balls in messy streams. The release left you breathless, a sharp cry escaping as ecstasy hollowed you out, body shuddering against his chest while he groaned low, his own hips bucking once to chase the sensation, cum starting to pulse hot and thick inside you, mixing with your wetness in a creamy, slippery flood that leaked out with every aftershock.

Sunday, oh Sunday. It was so restful and quiet, a pause in the rhythm of the week where the world outside faded into irrelevance. You avoided the TV’s blaring commentary, the radio’s chatter, the endless scroll of dossiers and your phone if you could help it, the silence wrapping around you both like a shared secret, amplifying every breath and subtle shift of skin against skin. 

This part could happen at any time of day but it always did, an unspoken ritual that anchored the weekend’s indulgence.

In a corner of your living room, tucked away from the windows where sunlight filtered softly through sheer curtains, sat that really comfortable armchair, plush and wide, its fabric worn from countless hours of lazy reading and now, intimate surrender. Simon would settle back into it first, his broad frame sinking into the cushions with a low sigh, legs spread slightly as he tugged you toward him. Sometimes you were both fully naked, clothes discarded in a haphazard trail from the bedroom, your bare skin flushed and warm against the cool air. Other times, it was just bottoms off, his sweats pooled at his ankles and your panties kicked aside, leaving shirts or nothing at all to brush teasingly during the heat.

You straddled him without a word, knees digging into the cushion on either side of his hips, your pussy hovering just above his thick cock, already hard and leaking precum that glistened along the veined length. His hands found your hips immediately, large palms spanning the curve of your ass, fingers digging in just enough to guide you down. The first slide was always electric, your slick folds parting around his blunt head, stretching wide as you sank onto him inch by inch, the burn of his girth filling you completely until your ass rested flush against his thighs.

A shared groan escaped, low and guttural, vibrating through your joined bodies as your inner walls clenched greedily around him, already coating his shaft in a fresh layer of arousal that dripped down to his balls.

The rhythm started slow, your hips rocking forward and back, grinding your clit against his pubic bone while he thrust up lazily to meet you. But it built fast, the intensity uncoiling like a spring, moans spilling from your lips unbidden, mingling with his ragged breaths as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Wet, obscene smacks echoed with every bounce, your pussy slurping around his cock as you lifted and dropped, riding him with a fervor that left sweat beading on your skin. His grip tightened, thumbs pressing into the dimples above your ass, urging you deeper and harder while the chair creaked under the force of your movements.

You didn’t stop, not for a second, hands roaming everywhere, yours tangling in his short hair to pull him into a bruising kiss, tongues sliding messily as teeth nipped at lips. Even when the air grew thin, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, you kept touching, hugging his shoulders close, bodies pressed so tight that every heartbeat thrummed between you. His mouth trailed to your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin while you hugged him fiercely, nails raking down his back in red trails that made him hiss and buck harder. The room spun with the haze of it, the quiet shattered only by your escalating cries and the slick glide of his cock pistoning in and out, arousal splashing with each plunge.

The first orgasm hit you like a wave crashing, your pussy spasming wildly around him, walls rippling in tight squeezes that milked his length. You shattered with a loud, keening wail, body convulsing as you ground down hard, clit grinding against him to prolong the ecstasy. Simon followed seconds later, his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside you before he erupted heavily, messily and loudly. Thick ropes of cum pumped deep into your core, hot and viscous, overflowing almost immediately to mix with your wetness and leak out in creamy rivulets that trailed down his balls and thighs. His groan rumbled against your collarbone, hips jerking erratically as he filled you to the brim, the excess squelching out with every residual twitch.

You collapsed against him then, boneless and spent, your face burying into the crook of his neck where his pulse hammered steadily. His scent, musk and clean sweat, enveloped you as you nuzzled closer, breaths syncing in the afterglow. Simon’s hands softened, no longer gripping but caressing, palms sliding up your back in slow, soothing strokes, fingers tracing the knobs of your spine before dipping to knead the muscles of your ass. He touched everywhere with reverence, one hand cupping your breast to thumb a hardened nipple gently, the other stroking your thigh, mapping the curves he knew by heart. Love poured through every motion, tender and unhurried, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple as you melted into him, the world narrowing to this quiet intimacy.

After a few minutes, when your heart rate slowed and the tremors faded to lazy pulses, one of his hands snaked between the two of you, careful not to dislodge where you were still seated comfortably on his cock, half-hard and slick with your combined release, nestled deep inside your fluttering pussy. 

His fingers found your clit effortlessly, swollen and sensitive from the earlier frenzy and he began to circle it gently, the pad of his thumb applying just enough pressure to reignite the embers. No words passed, just a soft hum from his chest encouraging you to relax into the sensation as you shifted slightly, inner muscles clenching around him in response.

The build was slower this time, a simmering heat that spread through your limbs like warm honey. His circles were calculated, varying the pace with light flicks that made you whimper and firmer presses that had your hips twitching involuntarily. 

You stayed impaled on him fully, never lifting more than a subtle rock, his free arm banding around your waist to hold you steady. Your body began to shake, subtle at first, then building to full quivers as the pleasure coiled tighter, your front arching into his chest while your face stayed pressed to his neck, ragged breaths hot against his skin. 

The orgasm crested without warning, ripping through you in shuddering waves as your pussy clamped down on his cock in vise-like pulses, grinding down hard to chase every spark as another flood of slick gushed out, mixing with the cum still leaking from you in a slippery, creamy mess that coated his fingers and dripped onto the chair.

He didn’t stop there, drawing it out with gentle laps of his fingers until you sagged against him again, boneless and panting. 

Simon loved this part, he loved making you orgasm, watching the way your body surrendered to him, the trust palpable in every tremble. He’d repeat it intermittently throughout the afternoon, fingers returning to your clit whenever the aftershocks ebbed, always ensuring your body never lifted fully from his cock during this period of overwhelm. Each peak left you more wrecked, more connected, grinding on him in desperate circles he adored, your cries muffled against his shoulder as he coaxed release after release, his own arousal stirring back to life inside you with every clench. Now this didn’t happen every week, the depth of it reserved for when the quiet demanded more, but he found comfort in you knowing it could if you asked that of him.

a/n: if you liked this piece, reblogging it helps more than you know. Thank you for keeping my little stories alive out there. ♡

[fertilise-me]

Delicious! 🤪😝🥰🙂‍↕️🤤🫨😍

[souliloqui]

I'm begging for Clark with an breeding kink and insane kryptonian stamina thank you🙏

hello hello! i saw this request and passed out a little because this is so good. then i passed out a little while writing it so i hope you like it! kinda went a bit crazy with it. :)

18+ | clark kent x f!reader

cw: cervix fucking, breeding kink

It's been five hours.

Five hours since Clark carried you to your bedroom and laid you down with the utmost care. Five hours since he made you bare and began dismantling you piece by piece, until your back arched and your throat sang.

Five hours since he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. Since he made your voice hoarse and your body a raw bundle of nerves, pleasurable and painful overstimulation eating you alive.

It's been five hours and Clark is still not finished with you, Kryptonian stamina seemingly unending.

You're overstimulated, thighs trembling and face smushed into a drool-soaked pillow. Your hands lay by your sides, entangled by the messy bedsheets as your fingers twitch against the damp material. You barely make a sound, only the tiniest whimpers coming up from your raw throat.

Each and every tiny sound being punched out of you with each and every bruising thrust of Clark's hips. Hard with a rough touch, deep and heavy as the head of his throbbing cock bullies your bruised cervix. His hands keep their firm grip on your hips; it's too hard that it hurts but that only makes the pleasure better. Especially with how he uses you, using your hips like handles as he pulls you back onto his cock again and again and again—

"Such a good girl," Clark grunts, driving in harsh as he bullies his way into your womb. A womb already filled to the brim as cum drools down your shaky thighs. "Gonna, hah, fill you up again, sweetheart. Un–until you're round and swollen with our child."

You can't speak; your tongue is thick in your mouth and your brain is frazzled—it's empty. He's fucked you dumb—fucked you stupid. Has rendered you incapable of any thought because he won't allow you. He's keeping you drunk on his cock, determined to breed you thoroughly so it takes.

"So fucking pretty," he rasps, his good manners thrown to the wind, ecstasy dismantling his inhibitions. "Pretty cunt taking me so well, greedy for my cock and my cum, shit."

His hips rock back and slam in deep, causing you to choke on air as you shake wildly. Your legs kick up at the spikes of sharp pleasure that claw at you within the midst of too much. Tears blur your vision again; a sob sits heavy on your chest as he really begins to fuck you again.

He had slowed down after making you cum again. It had been merciless, him holding your head down as he pounded into you, your screams muffled by the pillow. You had squirted all over his ramming cock, your gummy walls milking him dry before he flooded your womb once more with a rough whimper of your name.

He had been kind enough to let you breathe, had given you a momentary respite while still housing his aching cock. But now he's remembering his wants and desires, his stamina unrivaled as he chases after your next orgasm.

Your cunt is dripping; it's sopping wet and squelches loud with every thrust. The slapping of his hips against your ass echoes throughout your bedroom, a filthy and depraved symphony that would make the most perverted pervert blush. His hand, large and hot, presses down on the sweat-slick curve of your back to somehow go deeper and the way it hits has you sobbing out. Your hands shoot up to scratch at his strong thighs, eyes rolling back as your breath hitches at how he moves.

"Clark," you manage, a high-pitched whine, as that familiar feeling coils tight in your cunt. Your clit throbs, cunt pulsing rapidly around him as your vision starts to blacken. "Sl–slow down, I can't—!"

"Shh, it's okay, honey," Clark breathes out, his thrusts stuttering. He thumbs at the curve of your back; a comforting yet maddening touch. "You can do, god, yes you can. Yes you can, doll—"

You try to run away from it; it feels far too strong unlike the others. But Clark doesn't let you, keeps you where he wants you and shows not an ounce of mercy as he slams you onto his cock, the dripping head pushing right into your cervix and you—

It's warm.

Still so warm—so fucking hot and you—

You gurgle into the pillow, all messy and incoherent as you cum devastatingly. Your limbs twitch, legs kicking out as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Clark's hand is a firm restraint on your back as he holds you down, fucks his cum in deeper because this has to take.

He needs it to.

It's clear he won't stop until it does.

[pittrabbit]

crush.

warning: mostly pwp, some angst but happy ending for pope, f2l, age gap implied, afab reader, p in v sex, comfort sex (??), havent watched the show but fucking hate baz, unprotected sex, reader is kind of depraved about pope but who isnt, breeding kink kind of, etc etc etc.

summary: the aftermath of overhearing that conversation between pope and baz

word count: 4.1k

note: i have never actually watched animal kingdom other than edits and clips on twitter here and there. aaand i also messed up the timeline of the show (cath's death, etc), but fortunately this is fanfiction and i can do whatever i want yay!!

➽──────────────────❥

you hadn't meant to be there at that moment. it was a chance thing, mostly a mistake. you hadn't even caught most of the conversation, just the brunt of it. but that had been enough to make you see red.

you had been aware of baz and pope's unspoken rivalry ever since you'd known them. it was a badly kept secret, knowing about baz's treatment of andrew, and of andrew's obvious infatuation with cath. the latter used to make you jealous. you had watched andrew from afar, watched him watch someone else. but that wasnt enough to make your interest in him fade away.

it was understandable at first. you were a little younger, just a little nuisance cath brought around sometimes. it made sense to you why he'd focus on someone else.

even when andrew's eyes were on someone else, you remained in his orbit somehow. this, unfortunately, meant remaining in all of the cody's orbits, but it proved worth it if it allowed you to be in his vicinity. you'd seen him be treated as the black sheep, be alienated and rejected in all walks of life. you'd had a front row seat to his infatuation with cath and julia, to his own mother's infatuation with him, to his hardships with his mental health, being seemingly the only person to realize that he'd always been a victim of his environment.

he never really took note of you. being a friend of cath's only really took you so far when it came to the cody's. your presence wasn't appreciated by smurf, nor was it ever really acknowledged by anyone other than baz and the occasional sleazy comment thrown your way after you'd grown past that awkward adolescent age — all comments made while cath wasn't around. the few times your favorite cody paid you any mind, you could never tell what was going through his head. maybe you were just the closest thing he could get to cath. maybe that's why you'd sometimes catch him looking your way, those intense eyes penetrating you without any hint of emotion towards you.

when andrew went to prison, you had been the only one who seemed to be affected by it. cath seemed relieved to have a breather from him — something which made you irrationally frustrated. the rest of his brothers, and even his mom, appeared indifferent to his absence. you stopped showing up as much while he was gone, though you still remained a present figure, wanting a chance to be there for andrew whenever he came back. you'd even resorted to writing letters to him in prison, wanting to provide him with the comfort and care he'd been unfamiliar with back home. despite his lack of responses, you'd made it a point to write him twice a month, a little more disheartened every passing month in which you didn't get a response.

but it all proved worth it when he came back.

it had been unexpected, his return. there was no warning, no announcement, he'd just shown up at your place.

he'd been awkward, that intense eye contact finding a place on your arm, your shoe, anywhere but your eyes as you opened the door for him.

you'd welcomed him with a sigh of relief and a hug, one which was not responded at first. but when you pulled away, a pair of muscular arms had wrapped around your waist, a gruff mumble of 'thank you' breathed against your shoulder. he didn't need to clarify what he meant. you knew.

the two of you stuck by each other a lot more after that. he was still closed off, still unable to stop his eyes from wandering to cath every once in a while. he was still breaking you little by little, but you'd take anything he gave you, even if this was as much as you'd get. at least his eyes were on you more often now.

he'd sleep over at your place any time coming back to smurf's felt like too much. would let you patch up his injuries after any job that left him too rambled up. he'd even leave you flowers by your door every so often, never saying they were from him, — a fact confirmed by cath, another recipient of said flowers — only ever looking away when he'd spot them in a vase inside your living room. he'd be insistent in driving you home, always opening and closing doors for you in a manner that'd have you blushing if you felt he meant it as anything other than platonic civility.

things were the same between the two of you. the same, but you could swear there was a little something more hidden in there.

you hadn't meant to be there when the tensions between andrew and baz came to a crescendo. you were only stopping by to check on andrew, a habit you'd never been able to kill.

what you caught had only been the end of the conversation. it was the usual screaming match that happened more and more every time those two were around each other. baz had always hated andrew's behavior towards his wife and daughter. andrew had always hated baz's treatment of catherine and lena. it was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. it was just too bad you'd caught its peak.

"pope, no one will ever have a kid with you. ever"

those had been baz's words.

you could see how they stung. from the corner behind which you'd hidden behind upon hearing the screaming match, you could see any remaining hope or felicity leaving andrew's eyes.

andrew had put up with a lot throughout his life, death, pain, betrayal, but you could see that that realization had been the worst of it all — the realization that no one would ever love him in that way, that no one would ever be his, that no one would choose him first.

it was wrong. you knew better than anyone that baz's words had been wrong, and that andrew's belief of those words had been just as incorrect.

you left after that.

it wasn't your place to interrupt. you were too angry to. you knew that any rendition of coming for andrew's rescue at that moment would've just made things worse for him.

so you went home.

you paced around your living room for an hour, angry, chanting every insult you could imagine under your breath. baz had made you angry through the years, but never to this extent.

and predictably enough, your lonesome anger was interrupted by a knock on your door from the one person who had any more right than you to that anger.

you ushered him in, grabbing his hand and taking him to the living room without a word. obediently, he followed.

"why'd you leave?" was the first thing he asked when once you sat him down, interrupting your breathless offer for a drink or some food. hospitality first.

you'd been trying to stall, wanting to talk about it, offer him some comfort, but unknowing of how to breech the subject without cornering him. it seemed like he didn't hold the same reservations. you hadnt even realized he had seen you at his mother's house.

"you, uhm, you saw me?"

"yeah."

"sorry, i- i didn't want to interrupt. i didn't-"

andrew reached over to an open bottle of beer you'd been nursing before his arrival, sipping it without a second thought.

"you heard all of that?"

you took a place next to him on the couch. knelt on top of it as you faced him. he continued to face forward, paying way more attention to your beer than to yourself. he was embarrassed, probably even hurt and mortified. this wasnt a conversation he wanted to have, yet he was having it with you. he wanted to dig the knife deeper, to hear someone else confirm his suspicions — that no one would ever want him, much less a shared lifetime with him.

"andrew..."

"he's right, you know?" another sip. "cath isn't my wife. lena isn't my kid. no one would ever put themselves through that misery." now a full gulp of beer.

"andrew, that isn't true."

"the hell it's not."

he was making you angry, you couldn't pretend otherwise.

it was obvious to you why andrew would have such a low self-esteem. it wasn't a secret that he hated himself, that he was self-destructive due to a variety of reasons, but that the leading one was a complete absence of self-love.

and you? you took that shit personally. specially when other people fed into it, giving him even more reasons to hate himself.

"listen to me, andrew" you took the beer from him, setting it on the coffee table, your knees now pressed against his thigh, "no — look at me, andrew."

that got his attention.

"you're going to listen to baz? deadbeat, cheater, man-whore, baz?" you scoffed. "the guy whose kid you've been taking care of? god, andrew, you've been more of a father to lena these past few months than baz has been her whole life!" you rasped out.

andrew sat still beside you, semi-wide eyes looking up at you with a shocked expression you'd never quite seen on him before. but you kept going.

"he's wrong. you know that he is. he's projecting his stupid insecurities onto you. baz could never be half the man that you are, andrew." you continued. "lena is so lucky to have you in her life, someone who actually cares about her well-being, and looks out for her, and treats her with care and compassion. and even cath! baz has never once cared for her in the way you do. he doesn't deserve either of them."

your eyes were frantic by now, but you couldn't stop yourself from continuing.

"any woman would be lucky to have your kid, andrew. anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, to be your person, to be the one to give you a kid. i- i wish that i could make you understand that."

your big rant ended there. the momentum wore off when you realized you were giving yourself away way too much.

your feelings for andrew had been one of the many badly kept secrets among the cody's. except that andrew was the only one unaware of it, never once picking up on why you always showed extra interest in him.

he sat there, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you, hands fisted on his lap and eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration, you couldn't really tell.

you swallowed, not knowing what to say anymore. it was unlikely that he believed any word you'd said. his self-esteem was broken down enough that any words of compassion would be useless to him. that, and the fact that he probably didn't want to hear those words from anyone other than cath. what worth did they have if they came from you?

"andrew, i-"

"would you?"

"would i what?" your heart was going a mile a minute. his voice was broken, harsh. he was sitting up straight now, body turned towards you and eyes penetrating you with what looked like anger to you.

you weren't scared of him. you had never been. but in this moment, you were terrified you'd given yourself away. that you'd ruined what he believed to be a friendship, something that could provide him with stringless comfort unlike every other relationship in his life.

"would you-" he cleared his throat, "would you feel lucky? to- to have my kid?"

it was blunt, almost cutting, just like everything else with andrew. and it knocked the wind out of you.

instead of stammering a response, of looking away as you always did when you were teens and you happened to catch his attention, you decided to double down. you stared directly at him, resting your full weight on your knees as you lowered yourself to his eye-line before responding.

"yes."

andrew continued to look at you, swallowing before attempting to speak again.

but you didn't let him.

once again, you took initiative, grabbing onto both of his cheeks and pulling his face towards your own, your lips wrapping around his.

there was no hesitation nor shyness in the kiss. any previous hesitation between the two of you was completely forgotten as you lost yourselves in one another.

he returned your kiss, pulling you to straddle him, closing any remaining amount of distance between you. he inhaled deep between kisses, almost as if he were recalibrating, making sure he was real, that this was real.

you sighed his name against his lips, making him groan in return. his hands were shy, parked on your waist and not wandering any further. it had only been a few minutes, but it was already driving you insane.

between you, your hands made their way to his trousers, toying with their hem and sneaking under his shirt, causing a shudder and another groan to leave him.

"kid, are you- are you sure?"

"are you?" you pulled back a bit. "what about-" you couldn't help but hesitate. "what about cath?"

he shook his head, hands tightening on your hips in a possessive manner. "i don't care about her right now. just want you."

"but-"

but his head dipped, lips now on your jaw, on your neck, all the way down to the bare skin exposed by your tank top.

"please." he pleaded at you. "want you. want everything with you. no one cares about me like you do."

and that was enough to break any remaining resolve in you.

you kissed him again, groaning into his mouth when his hands dipped under your shirt, now flat on your back and pulling you as close as humanly possible. the kiss was wet and nasty with zero finesse to be found. there was a chorus of wet sounds and muffled moans in your living room, only interrupted by the ruffling of clothes and the slight squeak of your couch when you couldn't help yourself but grind your hips against his.

"fuck." he breathed out, forehead against yours.

your lips still chased his, tongue finding his open mouth and sneaking its way inside.

"take me to bed, andrew." you mumbled against his lips.

the groan he let out at that was primal, very unlike the usually quiet andrew you knew. next thing you knew, large hands were splayed under your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he got up and headed towards your bedroom. your hands were needy, feeling him up as you continued to kiss at his neck and jaw all the way to your bed.

softly, he laid you down on the bed, waiting for you to scoot to the middle before crawling his way to you. his eyes were an odd mixture of soft and predatory while yours looked up at him with need.

again, he kissed you, one hand behind your head to bring your lips to his as he adjusted himself atop you.

"say it again." he rasped, hands finding your waist again, needy fingers bunching at your tank top in attempts to feel your skin, eyes shyly finding the bare skin there before looking back up to your eyes.

cupping his cheeks, you pulled him close, kissing his lips softly, slowly before looking into his eyes and going an extra mile with your response.

"i want your baby, andrew."

he looked pained at your words. but you were unable to really say anything else before he lunged at you with another kiss, making you fall back against the bed as he licked into your mouth. his hands went crazy, grabbing and pulling at every inch of your skin. the needy desperation in his movements proved obvious by his lack of ability in actually taking off your clothes, pulling at the hem of your shorts to feel up your legs rather than pulling them down altogether, dragging off the straps of your tank top and bra instead of throwing your shirt off, all done just to feel a little bit of extra skin.

meanwhile your hands functioned a bit better than his own. within moments you were able to throw off his shirt and pull down his pants low enough to cup his dick, suddenly stopping his abrasive movements.

"fuck-"

"god, andrew, i want you so bad." you panted into his lips. "get this off, please. i need-"

"anything. i'll do anything for you." he groaned before pulling your top off, lips instantly attaching to the newly freed skin until his lips found the barrier your bra created.

your hands gripped at his hair, pulling when he began sucking at the fat of your breast, close enough to the areola to have your eyes rolling back, "fuck, andrew..."

his own eyes rolled back at the feeling, seemingly in love with the feel of your fingers digging into his scalp.

unwilling to stop there, his hands snuck behind you, undoing your bra with surprising ease and groaning yet again at the sight.

"you're perfect." andrew sighed, not allowing you to react before his lips wrapped around your nipple, moaning against it as if he were the receiver of the pleasure.

"i need more. please, andrew, i need-"

"i know. i'll give you everything, i promise," he mumbled against your other breast, still refusing to stop putting his lips on you.

your hands dragged down his back, legs wrapping around his waist and attempting to pull him down on you, hips raising from the bed to try and roll against his. taking pity on you, andrew ground his hips against yours, earning himself a whine from you at the feel of his hardness digging against your cunt.

desperate, you made work of your shorts on your own accord, awkwardly removing them from underneath him as he continued kissing at you, sucking hickeys into your skin like some horny teenager, hands now reaching down to your hips and digging at the skin there like puddy.

"andrew, god, fuck me. please." you whined once more, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your voice.

this finally got andrew to respond to you, hands undoing his own pants the rest of the way, freeing himself of his boxers in the process.

you eyed him with absolute depravity in your eyes, biting your lip at the sight in front of you, the thick muscle throughout the entirety of his body, the girth of his dick, the beads of cum squirting at his tip, the flushed hue of his skin and the sweat making him glisten as he hovered over you.

"you're perfect, andrew, fuck."

his hand went to your chin, tilting it and removing your eyes from his body, turning them to face his gaze instead, "look at me."

you hummed, wide eyes staring at his own (fighting an impossible battle to not let them stray down to his lips for the hundreth time).

"i'm going to give you a baby. do you understand that?" his voice was raspy, pained, eyes facing the same battle as yours as they ventured to your lips, to your breasts, to the space between your legs.

nodding numbly, you bit your lip, tilting your head towards his lips, "please."

"tell me you want it."

"i do. i want it. please- want- want your baby, andrew. want everything with you."

with one last groan, he closed the distance again, one hand coming to his cock while the other laid you back down. dragging his dick up and down your slit, he sighed at the feeling.

finally, he pushed in, making your eyes roll back for the millionth time, and sigh out his name.

"fuck." he groaned at the feeling, stilling inside you. "i love you." were his next words, almost missed due to his lips' proximity to your skin.

your hands dug into his hair again, pulling him even closer with a moan, "i love you so much, andrew. a-always have."

"i know." he mumbled, hips beginning to move, "i love you." he repeated. "you're everything to me."

those were his last words before picking up his speed, hammering into you as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him flush against your skin.

"you're mine now. do you understand?" he huffed, lips glued to the skin of your shoulder.

"i'm yours, andrew, i'm- fuck! — i'm yours, baby."

your hands dragged red lines down his toned back, marking him equally yours. his shoulder was your next victim, getting marked by your teeth as you bit into the skin there when he thrust particularly hard.

and he loved it, groaning out a pained moan of your name when you bit at him, hips stuttering and hands gripping your hips in a bruising manner.

"you feel so fucking good." he growled directly into your ear. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

that had you reeling. had you tightening up around him, your body completely in tune with him and his words. he was all you'd ever wanted, all you'd watched and waited to have.

the idea of having a baby with andrew crossed your mind many times in the past. they were mostly teenage daydreams of a ring, a house, a honeymoon somewhere far away from home and a lifetime for the two of you completely separate of the mess that always surrounded andrew. you had dreams of saving him from the misery that his family brought along, to finally have him look your way and give him everything you had to offer.

you never thought things would go so out of order, that you'd so easily open your legs for him, not a single thought of using protection on your mind and allowing him to do with you as he pleased — as you'd repeatedly begged.

and in this moment you wanted that more than anything. you wanted that baby in you. to have andrew cum deep inside you time and time again, to try endlessly until it finally took. you wanted to lock him up in your home, hide him from everyone who'd ever hurt him, who'd ever betrayed him and keep him safe between your legs.

you'd give him a baby, tie yourself to him for the rest of your lives. the thought of swelling up for him had you tightening around his cock, thinking of every night you'd lay in bed buried in his arms, being the one constant in his life and the reason for his peace.

you knew he'd be perfect for you. that he'd protect you and your baby with his life. you knew that he'd be loyal, would become infatuated and obsessive and addicted, and it just made you so dizzy in all the best ways.

andrew seemed equally desperate for that future, for that ownership over the rest of your life. he rammed into you with an animalistic desperation as his peak approached, grunting unintelligible praises hidden among curses at the unimaginable pleasure.

"cum for me. i'll give you everything, just cum for me." it was the closest thing to begging you'd ever heard from him. the sincerity dripped in his words.

and how could you not lose your mind at that? how could you not when he was staring down at you, mouth agape and eyes locked on your lips, perpetually thirsty for more of you.

you pulsed under him, eyes rolled back and back arched with your breasts pressed up against his chest, the hardness of his muscle further stimulating you throughout your high.

by the time you came back to earth, andrew was a man possessed, drilling into you with a desperation you'd never seen. he made sounds you'd dreamed of, gasping and groaning incoherencies. his grip on you would've been painful had you not been addicted to the feeling of him, to the sight above you.

"cum for me, baby." you sighed, one hand coming up to pull softly at his hair while the other turned his face to look straight into your eyes. "look at me when you cum. get me pregnant, baby. wanna see you when it finally takes."

with one final grunt of your name, you finally felt that warmth inside you. he stilled, shoving himself as deep as possible with a broken gasp, hips spasming weakly against yours.

he made sure not to let himself fall on top of you once he'd filled you to the brim, dropping himself next to you instead. but he didnt allow any distance between you, bringing you to his side with one strong arm, humming when you yelped at the sudden movement.

as if by nature, you nuzzled into his chest, kissing the skin there softly while your hands scratched at the skin of his abdomen with affection.

"you're mine, andrew."

his hand went down to your stomach, rubbing at the skin as if his seed was already implanted in there, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"yeah? well, you're mine too."

➽──────────────────❥

and she did get pregnant with twins and one was a girl and one a boy and they got custody of lena and they got the fuck out of there and andrew finally got his happy ending and everyone cheered yay!!!!!

[abbotscum-deactivated20260103]

[ 💮 ] ━ NIGHT CALL ; jack abbot & michael robinavitch

SUMMARY: you're the new night shift nurse. quiet, capable, always composed at work. but everything shifts when jack abbotand robby robinavitch take an interest in you. what starts as lingering looks and teasing touches builds into a night of unbearable tension, whispered need, and a ride home that changes everything. [ 14k ]

WARNINGS: shy!reader, nurse!reader, dom!jack, soft!dom!robby, public teasing, wet panties, scent kink, oral sex (f. receiving & giving), handjobs, spit, throatfucking, rough language, praise kink, degradation kink, spitroast setup, face use, drool, use of reader’s underwear, public teasing (car), dom/sub dynamics, reader on knees, cock worship, fluid mess, multiple partners 18+

ko-fi

Jack Abbot didn’t like night shifts. He liked the silence of them, the stillness, but not the waiting, not the dragging hours between the adrenaline rushes. The hospital changed after dark. The energy shifted. Everything felt a little closer to unravelling, a little more raw. Patients cried harder, hallucinations hit deeper, and the residents started second-guessing themselves.

He used to relish that once, back when he was younger and more sadistic, when he still got something out of watching green interns fall apart during a psychotic break.

These days, he found more satisfaction in watching things run clean, watching procedures handled fast, vitals stabilized before the crash cart even rolled in. He liked control, even if he never admitted it out loud. Which was why, on the third night of your rotation, he still hadn’t figured out why you were getting under his skin.

You hadn’t made a single error in judgment. You didn’t ramble. You weren’t fidgety. You didn’t flirt like the others, didn’t flash him that desperate look of want and approval so many younger nurses had tossed his way since the first season aired.

You were quiet, but not meek. Intelligent, but never arrogant. He saw it in the way your eyes narrowed when reviewing labs, in how fast your fingers moved over the digital charting system, in how you already knew Unit 3’s regular patients by name and diagnosis.

You had a voice that barely rose above a murmur, soft and even, and he hadn’t yet heard you say anything you didn’t mean. No filler. No wasted words. Just straight to the point. And that alone had made Jack look up from his chart on the first night.

He watched you now from the corner of the nurses’ station, elbow braced on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. His dark scrubs were rumpled like always, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, collarbone faintly visible under the thin cotton.

The light overhead cast deep shadows on his face, drawing harsh angles out of a jaw that hadn’t seen sleep in twenty-eight hours. He didn't look tired. He never did. His eyes stayed sharp even when the rest of him seemed still, trained on you like he was dissecting something behind your eyes.

You weren’t afraid of him. That’s what really set you apart. Most new hires flinched under his stare. They got flustered when he barked orders or made one of his characteristically blunt, soul-piercing remarks.

But you met his eye every time, even if it only lasted half a second. You took direction without question but always followed up with your own judgment, never blindly obedient. It pissed him off a little, how much he liked it.

“You keep looking at her like that and she’s gonna file an incident report,” came Robby’s voice, low and amused, from behind him.

Jack didn’t turn around. “You’ve been watching her just as much as I have.”

Robby Robinavitch had always been easier to like. He was kinder, warmer, and endlessly patient with the patients no one else wanted to touch. He leaned against the opposite side of the nurses’ station now, arms folded, that soft mop of chestnut curls damp with sweat from running a late-night code.

There was a touch of blood on his collar, not enough to worry about, but he hadn’t changed it yet. His face was flushed from exertion, his smile lazy and crooked. And yet his gaze followed you with a quiet intensity that didn't match the calm in his voice. He was trying not to make it obvious. Trying to play the long game.

“She’s sharp,” Robby said, his voice dropping a little as he watched you move down the hall with a fresh set of vitals. “Doesn’t talk much, but when she does, it’s always something useful. She’s fast, too. Caught that med error before I did. That wasn’t luck.”

“No,” Jack agreed, slow and quiet. “She’s calculating. Not in a cold way. Just efficient. Doesn't make noise unless there’s a reason to.”

Robby leaned forward a little, still watching you from across the ward. “You like that,” he said knowingly. “That kind of quiet. I’ve seen you chew out nurses for less.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He was still watching the way your hand grazed over the side rails as you moved past a patient’s bed, the way you glanced back once to make sure the IV was where it needed to be.

He liked how nothing was done halfway. You double-checked everything. Your hands didn’t shake. And you hadn’t once asked for help unless it was genuinely necessary. The only thing more irritating than incompetence was neediness, and you had neither.

“She doesn’t act like she needs anything from me,” Jack said finally. “Most of them either want to impress me or get something out of me.”

“And she doesn’t want either?” Robby asked, one brow arched. “You think she’s completely unaffected by the fact that two attending physicians are eyeing her like they’re starving?”

Jack’s gaze flicked toward him then, dry and pointed. “You think she hasn’t noticed?”

“Oh, she’s noticed,” Robby said, and this time his voice softened. “I’ve seen her watching us when she thinks we’re not looking. Caught her staring at your hands. Caught her staring at my mouth.”

Jack tilted his head, a slow smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

“She’s shy,” Robby added, a little gentler now, watching the way you stopped to check the monitor at the far bed. “But not scared. That’s the difference. She’s not hiding, she’s observing. Just like you do.”

Jack went quiet at that, letting the thought settle between them. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the counter, restless energy bleeding through the otherwise still posture.

“She’s the kind that waits,” Robby continued. “She’s figuring us out. You see it, don’t you?”

“I see everything,” Jack muttered, and it wasn’t bragging. Just fact.

They both went quiet again. You were walking back now, clipboard tucked under your arm, expression neutral but not blank. Your eyes passed over both of them briefly, pausing on Robby for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then landing on Jack like you weren’t sure you should be meeting his stare, but did it anyway. That was what made him narrow his eyes, just slightly. That little flicker of defiance. Of interest. Of courage.

Robby leaned in close, just enough that Jack could hear him.

“She’s going to let us,” he said softly. “Not tonight. But soon.”

Jack didn’t look at him. He just smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “She will.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

It was rare for any of them to get the same night off. Rarer still for night shift to gather anywhere outside the hospital walls without it involving a funeral, a wedding, or a desperate effort to drink away the scent of antiseptic and despair.

But someone from ortho was turning thirty-five, and a chain text had made the rounds two days earlier, and now half the ward was spilling into the back room of a pub too small to handle this many trauma-seasoned adults with social anxiety.

It was a converted brick-and-timber place tucked under a bridge, the kind of bar that served warm beer with a fake Irish name and gave discounts to hospital staff out of pity. A few of the residents were already drunk by nine.

Music from someone’s Bluetooth speaker thumped out of rhythm with the conversation. A neon sign buzzed in the corner, half-lit, the glow of it smearing green across the glossy heads of pulled pints. No one was wearing scrubs. That alone was disorienting.

Jack had arrived just after nine-thirty, still dressed like he had somewhere better to be, because Jack never looked casual. He didn’t wear jeans like the rest of them, didn’t lean into the post-shift hoodie and ball cap uniform. He wore black slacks and a charcoal button-up with the sleeves rolled twice, his shirt tucked in, collar sharp, belt simple and neat.

His hair was combed back like it always was, his jaw clean-shaven, the cut of his body still lean and harsh and angular even out of uniform. He looked like he belonged at a funeral or a court appearance. He always looked like that.

He didn’t order anything when he came in. Just scanned the room with that cold, sharp stare, made his way to a table by the back wall, and waited. He’d told himself he wouldn’t come. Told himself it was stupid to bother. But then he’d seen your name in the group text. And he hadn’t seen you in twenty-four hours.

Robby showed up ten minutes later, sleeves pushed to the elbow, curls damp from a quick shower and smelling faintly of soap and clove. He wore dark jeans and a white t-shirt under a soft denim jacket, the kind of outfit that looked relaxed without trying to be.

He looked like he belonged here, leaning against the bar with a glass of something neat in his hand, laughing easily with one of the newer interns. But every so often, his eyes would flick toward the door. Casual. Curious. Expectant. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even Jack, but he’d been waiting too.

And then you walked in.

Neither of them saw you right away. You slipped in through the side door, as quiet and careful as you always were, tucking yourself behind a group of louder nurses before the wave of noise hit you.

You weren’t wearing anything outrageous. Nothing over the top. Just a simple black dress, long sleeves, a low neckline that dipped soft against your collarbone, the hem hitting just above your knee. Sheer tights. Heeled boots. No jewellery except the thin silver ring you wore on your right hand. But the effect was stunning. Because they had never seen you like this.

Not in colour. Not in light that didn’t buzz from an overhead panel. Not without your ID badge lanyard cutting across your chest or the boxy weight of hospital-issue scrubs swallowing your shape. Tonight, your waist was cinched in, your legs on full display, your lips tinted a warm flush of rose that made your mouth look kiss-soft and parted even when you weren’t speaking.

Jack saw you first.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared. For a long moment he said nothing, glass untouched in front of him, fingers curled loose against the table’s edge like he’d forgotten what his hands were for. His eyes moved slow over you, down the line of your legs, back up again to your throat, your jaw, your mouth.

His gaze wasn’t hungry. It was surgical. Focused. Like you were something rare and volatile he hadn’t realized the full scale of until just now.

He watched the way you looked around, unsure where to go, how you smiled at the girl from charge like you weren’t used to being smiled at first. You weren’t performing. You weren’t trying to be seen. And that’s exactly what made him feel like his own chest had tightened.

Robby turned when he noticed Jack’s stare had gone completely flat. Followed the line of sight. And then he saw you too.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered under his breath, low enough only Jack could hear. “She’s—”

“Yeah,” Jack said, voice hollow. “I know.”

Robby stood slowly, finished what was left in his glass, and set it down without looking. “You gonna talk to her?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, his brow furrowed like he was doing math. “No.”

Robby laughed under his breath. “Coward.”

“Shut up,” Jack said.

But his eyes never left you.

You didn’t see them at first. You were too busy letting yourself breathe, scanning the crowd, pretending the weight of your own nerves wasn’t sitting heavy at the base of your spine.

This wasn’t your scene. It never had been. You didn’t drink much, you didn’t like loud places, and social settings that required small talk always made your skin feel too tight. But you’d come anyway. Because it was your third night off in a row and everyone had told you to. Because you were trying to be a person again outside of shift reports and rounds. And, maybe, because you’d wondered if they’d be here.

And then you felt it.

That sensation at the back of your neck. Like someone was looking too hard. Your gaze shifted and landed square on them.

Jack, sitting alone. Robby, standing beside him. Both of them facing you like they’d been waiting for this exact moment.

You froze. Just for a second. Not out of fear. Not even embarrassment. But something else. Something darker. A strange heat that started low and coiled through your chest as you watched Jack’s eyes drag down the front of your dress, as you saw the way Robby smiled at you, slow and warm like he’d just remembered something he’d dreamed.

They didn’t wave. They didn’t call your name.

But they didn’t have to.

You were already walking toward them.

Your heels click louder than they should across the worn wood floor, every step amplified by the fact that you’re not wearing sneakers, not wearing your badge, not carrying a clipboard or wheeling an IV pump behind you. You don’t feel like a nurse right now. You don’t feel like anything you know how to be.

The dress you chose was simple, safe even, but you still feel the way the hem sways over your thighs with each step. You feel the tight pull of the sleeves around your arms and the faint cling of the neckline dipping just low enough to make your chest feel exposed. Your cheeks are warm already and you haven’t even opened your mouth.

This isn’t the floor. There’s no page system here. No vitals to check, no Haldol to push. Just noise and bodies and alcohol and eyes. So many eyes. But none of them matter. None of them burn the way Jack’s do.

You meet his gaze and it takes everything not to look away. He’s still sitting at that corner table like he owns it, like he hasn’t moved since he saw you. There’s something hollow and dangerous about the way he watches you, something that makes your skin pull tight over your spine. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t soften. His stare drags down your body like he’s studying the weak points, like he’s peeling you open with nothing but his silence.

You’ve seen him like this before. You’ve watched him strip a resident bare with nothing more than one look over the top of his glasses and three words. But now it’s focused on you. And it’s not disciplinary. It’s something else entirely. Something that makes your breath catch as you reach the edge of their table.

Robby’s different. Robby smiles the second you reach them, warm and easy, like he’s been waiting for you to walk in since the doors opened. He’s still standing, one hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other resting lightly on the back of the empty chair beside Jack.

He looks good like this. Comfortable. Calm. There’s a glow to him that always made your nerves settle a little during those first few shifts, the way his voice stayed soft even when things went sideways. But now there’s a flicker of something else in his expression. Interest. Intention.

“You came,” he says, and it isn’t teasing. It’s genuine. Softly said like it matters more than it should.

You nod, swallowing once before you speak. “Didn’t think I would,” you admit, and your voice sounds smaller than it does on the ward. There’s no monitor beep under your words, no medical urgency to sharpen your tone.

Jack leans back slowly, arms resting on the sides of his chair like he’s settling in for a long evaluation. “But you did,” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes your stomach flip. Like he already knows why. Like he thinks the reason is him.

You don’t answer. You don’t know how to. You just look between them, your hands folding in front of you out of habit, like you’re standing outside the med room waiting to be told what to do. And that realization makes you feel stupid because you’re not at work.

You’re not in scrubs. You’re in a bar with no badge and no protocol and nothing to hide behind. And they’re still watching you like they’re waiting to read a chart you haven’t given them access to yet.

“Sit,” Jack says simply, and it doesn’t feel like a command. It feels like gravity.

You slide into the empty seat beside him, legs crossing automatically, hands smoothing down the hem of your dress like it’ll make you less obvious.

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick down as you adjust the fabric, the way Robby watches you with the edge of his bottom lip caught lightly between his teeth. Neither of them says anything for a moment. Just silence. Just pressure.

“You look good,” Robby says finally, and it’s so honest it almost makes you flinch.

“Thanks,” you murmur, not trusting your voice to carry.

Jack’s eyes haven’t moved from you. His chair is angled just enough that his knee brushes yours, not by accident. He hasn’t touched you, but it feels like he has. “You always this quiet when you’re off the clock?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

You glance at him, nerves twisting tight in your chest. “Work’s easier. There are rules.”

That makes him smile. Not a full one. Just the corner of his mouth tipping, like he’s finally satisfied with something. “And you like rules.”

You don’t answer. He already knows. Of course you do. They’ve both seen it. You follow direction. You anticipate problems before they happen. You do what needs to be done with minimal fuss and maximum impact. You operate best inside structure.

And now you’re outside of it. Sitting beside two men who outrank you, who know your tells, who’ve spent the past week watching you work in a way no one else ever has.

“You don’t need rules tonight,” Robby says gently, like he can see the gears turning in your head. “You’re allowed to just… be.”

You nod, though you’re not sure you believe him yet. But his tone helps. Jack’s eyes are still making your skin burn, but Robby’s voice feels like a balm.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to sit still in this much attention. It’s like being spotlighted on a stage you weren’t ready to walk onto, and the worst part is that you want to be here. You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to run.

You want to see what happens next.

The first drink goes down too fast. A vodka tonic, light ice, lemon instead of lime, something clean and sharp to cut through your nerves. You order it mostly for something to hold. Something to give your hands purpose while your brain catches up with the fact that you’re sitting between Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch in a too-warm pub, on your first real night off since the month began.

The lights overhead are dim enough that no one can see you blush, but not so dim that you miss the way Robby smiles every time you speak or the way Jack’s thigh is pressed fully against yours now, unapologetic.

You try to stay calm, to sip slow and breathe like you’re not flanked by two men who command entire rooms without even speaking, but your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering since you sat down and your skin feels electric everywhere they glance.

The second drink is a mistake, and you love it. Some half-sweet elderflower thing that Robby insisted you try, brought over in a thin glass that smells like summer and bad decisions. You sip it slower, savouring the taste and the way the warmth blooms in your stomach.

You’ve stopped smoothing your dress every time you shift in your seat. You’ve stopped looking around to see who’s watching. You’ve started leaning in more when Robby talks, laughing a little softer when Jack says something dry that most people would miss.

You let your knees touch his now, not just brushing but resting there, and when Robby leans close to tell you a joke about the drunk ortho intern at the bar, you don’t pull away. You turn your head and smile, eyes catching his, breath catching too, because he’s close. They both are.

Jack hasn’t moved much, but his presence is weighty. Heavy. His eyes flick to your mouth every time you speak, his fingers tapping slow on the table like he’s waiting for something to justify reaching over and touching you. His voice is quieter now, lower, and there’s a different kind of patience to it, like he’s studying you all over again, only this time without the constraint of professionalism.

He looks at you like he’s dissecting your confidence as it builds drink by drink, the subtle rise of your chin when you hold eye contact a beat longer than you did an hour ago, the playful edge to your voice when you tease Robby for still drinking something with soda in it. Jack notices everything. He always does. But now he’s letting you know he notices. And it’s working.

Robby, for his part, has gone soft and tactile. Not overt. Not loud. But every time he laughs, he touches you. A hand on your arm, a brush of fingers against your wrist, a light nudge of his knee when you say something clever. He’s warm. That’s the only word you can think of.

He radiates it, from his skin to his smile, and the more he drinks, the more his posture curves toward you like he can’t help it. You like the way he smells, fresh and clean with a trace of something sweet beneath it. You like the way he listens. Really listens. Even when Jack is talking. Especially then.

And the strange thing is that you’re not overwhelmed. You thought you would be. At work, you’re sharp because you have to be. You’re competent because lives depend on it.

But here, between them, in this stolen night of low music and warm drinks and bodies pressed in close, you feel something entirely different blooming under your skin. Not nerves. Not panic. Just heat. Interest. A slow throb of something more dangerous.

You wonder what it would feel like to be kissed by one of them. Then you wonder what it would feel like to be kissed by both. The thought sticks, and you can’t quite shake it.

You’re still thinking about it when you hear the front door of the pub open with a gust of cold air and the unmistakable sound of Dana’s voice slicing across the room, laughing at something someone said. You twist in your seat without thinking, and your stomach flips when you see her.

Head of night shift. Absolute force of nature. The kind of woman who could dress someone down in three syllables and still get called back for Christmas cards. She’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans and that signature expression that says she’s got somewhere better to be. But when her eyes land on you, her stride slows.

She looks between you and the men on either side of you. Her eyebrows go up. One, then the other. She doesn’t stop walking. Doesn’t say a word. Just lifts her glass in a mock toast as she passes your table and keeps going to the bar.

Robby coughs to hide a laugh. “Think she approves.”

“She knows exactly what’s happening,” Jack says flatly.

Your face burns. “Nothing’s happening,” you say too quickly.

“Not yet,” Jack mutters.

You glance at him, heart hammering now for a different reason, but you don’t argue.

The third drink is your choice. Negroni, bold and bitter and precise. You sip it slowly, and when Jack’s hand finally settles on your thigh, firm and steady under the table, you don’t flinch. You look at him. You meet his gaze and you hold it.

And you smile.

You don’t remember how the conversation changed. At some point, words stopped mattering. Everything started speaking through touch. Through tension. Through the silent, heavy way they kept their hands on you like you were something claimed but not yet consumed.

Your third drink was long gone. The taste of gin and orange peel clung to the back of your tongue and the back of your thoughts, bitter and intoxicating, but it was nothing compared to the heat crawling up your spine.

Your thighs were parted. Not wide, not obvious, just enough. Just enough to let Jack’s hand stay exactly where he wanted it. Just enough to give Robby room to play.

Jack’s palm had settled heavy on your right thigh sometime after you started laughing at something Robby said. He hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t said a word. He just placed it there, fingers splayed, the warmth of his skin burning through the fabric of your tights. He moved slow, deliberate, sliding higher, then back down. Up. Then down.

Every stroke was measured. He never touched too close. Never reckless. But his hand always hovered right at the threshold. That maddening space just shy of the place where you throbbed. Where you ached. He moved like he was testing you. And every pass made your blood feel hotter.

Robby’s hand was different. He started at your knee, gentle at first, fingers brushing up the inside of your thigh in light, almost lazy strokes. His touch was softer, less direct, but no less torturous.

He would shift, pretend he was adjusting his seat, then his fingertips would slip higher, drag over the swell of your inner thigh and stop right before your pulse began to race harder. He smiled when you moved. Smiled when your knees tensed. Smiled like he could feel the heat between your legs without needing to touch it.

And your pussy was soaked.

You could feel it. You could feel how wet your folds were against the soft cling of your underwear, how sensitive everything was, how swollen. The way your clit twitched every time either of them exhaled near your ear. Your tights trapped the heat in, clinging to the flush in your thighs, sticking a little where you were starting to leak through.

You knew if either of them dipped their hand just a little further they’d feel it. The warmth. The damp cotton. The shape of how aroused you were. And you wanted them to. God, you wanted them to.

You let your breath out slow, trying to stay still, but it was impossible to hide the way your hips shifted. Your hands stayed folded in your lap like they were holding you together, like if you let them drop you’d unravel in front of the entire bar.

Every pass of their hands brought your body higher, closer, tighter. Your chest ached. Your stomach pulled tight. Your pussy throbbed, your slit wet enough that you could feel your own arousal pooling beneath the curve of your ass.

Then Robby’s pinky brushed the edge of your inner thigh, just a little too high. Just barely. A whisper of friction.

And you sighed.

Soft. Embarrassingly soft. But it left your mouth before you could stop it, and it sounded like surrender.

Jack heard it. Of course he did. His eyes snapped to your face like a shot, and the corner of his mouth curled slow and sharp.

“You’re not very good at pretending anymore,” he said. His voice was low and dry and just this side of cruel.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t trust your voice. Robby leaned closer, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Want us to stop?” he asked, and the way he said it made your stomach twist.

You shook your head. It was the only thing you could do. Your body was buzzing. Your legs were open. Your underwear clung damp to your folds and your clit throbbed with every heartbeat.

But they didn’t move higher. Not yet. They just kept teasing. Up. Down. Almost. Just shy of it. Almost. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing. Your hips rolled the tiniest bit and still it wasn’t enough.

And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You reached down. Your fingers found Jack’s wrist first, then Robby’s. You didn’t look at either of them. Your face was on fire, but you didn’t stop. You held their wrists and guided both their hands higher under the hem of your dress.

Your hands were shaking, just a little, but you kept going. You didn’t stop until you felt the heat of their palms close over the very tops of your thighs. Just beneath the edge of your underwear. Just above the soaked, throbbing place they hadn’t touched yet.

You sat back, breathless.

Jack stared at you. Unblinking. Possessive.

Robby’s lips parted like he was about to say something and forgot what it was.

Your pussy pulsed, wet and swollen and untouched, your panties sticking to you in a way that made you want to grind down just to feel something. But you stayed still. You sat there with their hands inches away from where you needed them, your face flushed, your breathing shallow, your heart pounding like you were about to flatline.

Jack’s voice broke the silence, rough and dark.

“Say when.”

Jack didn’t breathe for a full five seconds after you placed his hand where you wanted it.

He felt it. The way your thighs tensed as his palm settled just beneath the curve of your dress. The way your heat bled through the fabric of your tights. The way your fingers lingered on his wrist like you were steadying yourself against your own decision. She’s guiding us. That thought hit him harder than anything.

You weren’t squirming away, weren’t flinching or stammering or apologizing for how obvious you were. You were leading them. Quietly. Shyly. Blushing harder than you had all night.

But leading them just the same. And Jack didn’t miss the way your breath caught when his thumb brushed higher and stopped just before your soaked underwear.

He wanted to tear the tights from your body. He wanted to hear what sound you’d make when he finally touched the part of you that had been pulsing against your seat for the last hour. But he didn’t move. He watched. Waited.

Let his hand rest in that unbearable heat, every nerve in his body screaming for more, his cock stiffening behind his zipper with every slow drag of his fingers along your inner thigh. He was hard. Fully. Painfully.

His erection pressed tight against the front of his slacks, the head thick and straining. He was already imagining how wet you’d feel. How hot. How tight. His composure thinned with every second that passed.

Robby was no better.

He could feel how soaked your tights were beneath his palm, the heat between your thighs radiating into his skin like a secret you couldn’t hide anymore. When you’d grabbed his wrist and moved him higher, something in him short-circuited.

He’d seen bold before. He’d seen desperate. But not like this. Not with someone who had spent the last three nights looking at them like you didn’t know what you wanted.

Now you did. Now he could feel how badly you needed it. His fingers moved in slow, subtle strokes against your thigh, tracing the lines of tension in your muscles.

His cock was hard, thick and twitching beneath his jeans, and it took everything not to groan when your hips shifted again and your lips parted just enough to whisper the words that pushed them both over the edge.

“I need you to take me home.”

Not a question. Not timid. But breathless. Shaky. Raw.

Jack’s eyes cut to yours immediately. He watched the way you said it. Not just what you said. The way your throat worked around the syllables, the way your gaze flicked between them like you already knew what you were asking for.

He saw the flush in your chest, the way your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your dress, the way your legs stayed open beneath the table like you were daring them to keep touching you.

Robby leaned in, his voice soft beside your ear. “You sure?”

You nodded. Once. And that was all it took.

Jack didn’t waste time. He stood first, slow and smooth, adjusting the front of his slacks with one hand as he stepped back from the table. His eyes stayed on you the whole time, and his hand slid over your lower back as you stood, steadying you.

Robby followed, not quite as composed, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he shifted himself in his jeans before throwing a few bills on the table. He stayed close to your side, one hand ghosting just above your hip. Not touching. But close enough to make you lean into the space between them instinctively.

They didn’t rush. They didn’t grab. They didn’t speak.

But the way the three of you moved through the bar was loud in its silence.

You were between them, your face pink, your eyes lowered but burning, your steps a little too fast for someone who wasn’t already shaking. Jack held the door for you. Robby walked so close behind you that the edge of your dress brushed against his thigh with every step. Neither of them looked at anyone else.

Except Dana.

She was still at the bar.

She hadn’t meant to stay this long. The music was shit. The crowd was half-sloshed. But something about the night had felt unfinished. And when she glanced toward the door, glass raised halfway to her lips, she saw the three of you walking out like a secret that had been waiting all night to get told.

You. In the middle. That dress. That walk. Jack and Robby bracketing you like they were escorting you out of a burning building.

She smiled.

Not wide. Just a slow, knowing pull at one corner of her mouth. The kind of smile that came from experience. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t wave. Just watched over the rim of her glass and shook her head once, amused.

The same way she would when a resident broke sterile field after being warned. The same way she would when a code turned out exactly how she predicted.

She watched the door close behind you.

And then she laughed softly into her drink.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, the night swallowed you whole. The cool air licked up your bare thighs like punishment for being so soaked. You could feel the chill through your tights but it didn’t matter. You were burning from the inside out. Jack didn’t even need to speak.

The look he gave you as he opened the passenger door told you everything. His eyes were locked on yours, daring you to back out now, testing whether you really meant what you whispered in the bar. You stepped in without breaking his stare. The interior was already warm, quiet, intimate.

When Robby slid in beside you in the backseat, the door slammed shut like the lock on a cell, and everything started to move too fast and too slow at the same time.

Jack put the car into drive and started down the street, one hand steady on the wheel, the other pressed tight to his thigh like he was holding himself together with pure muscle memory.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did Robby. But when his hand landed on your thigh, firm and possessive, and pushed the hem of your dress higher, your breath hitched so sharp it made him smile.

He dragged his palm slowly up your leg, fingers spreading wide, warm and steady as they moved over the sheer fabric of your tights. You couldn’t help it.

Your legs opened for him like it was instinct. His fingers curled inward, pressing to the soaked heat between your thighs, and the soft sound you made punched through the quiet like a scream.

You could feel his fingertips slide along the seam of your tights, right where the crotch had gone sticky and damp with how long you’d been leaking for them. Robby let out a quiet, dark chuckle, breath ghosting warm against your ear as he leaned closer.

“You’re dripping, sweetheart,” he murmured, middle finger stroking the soaked seam deliberately. “Fuck, this little pussy’s been begging for attention all night.”

Your entire body jolted. Your knees fell wider apart. You whimpered, high and choked, as he rubbed over the thin layer of fabric again, slower this time, like he was savouring it. Jack didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He adjusted the rear-view mirror just enough to see you, just enough to catch the exact moment your head tilted back and your mouth dropped open when Robby started circling your clit through the fabric.

Jack’s cock was hard. So fucking hard he couldn’t sit right. He shifted behind the wheel, his slacks visibly tented, the thick outline of his cock pressing flush against the zipper.

He was leaking already, tip swollen, the entire shaft pulsing with every quiet moan you let out. His breathing was tight. Controlled. But you could see the way his jaw flexed, the muscle twitching as he fought not to pull over and shove your head in his lap.

“Take them off,” Jack said suddenly. His voice was low. Firm. Frayed at the edges with need. “I want them.”

Robby grinned. His hand slid beneath your dress again and curled into the waistband of your tights and panties together. You lifted your hips obediently. His fingers dragged the fabric down your thighs slowly, almost reverently, peeling it away inch by inch like a gift he wanted to unwrap properly.

The gusset of your panties clung to you when they pulled free, a thick string of slick stretching from your pussy to the ruined cotton, obscene and wet and unmistakable. Robby gave a low whistle as he held the damp panties up in the air between two fingers.

“She’s soaked straight through,” he said, grinning. “Jack. Catch.”

Jack didn’t look away from the road. Just held his hand out, palm open, and Robby tossed the bundle forward. The second Jack’s fingers closed around them, he brought them to his face. No hesitation. He pressed the soaked crotch flat to his nose and inhaled deep, eyes fluttering half shut.

His whole body shuddered. You saw his chest expand with the breath he took in. He groaned quietly under his breath, like the scent of your cunt had short-circuited something deep in him, every muscle in his thighs flexing like he was barely holding himself back.

The sound that came out of you was needy and full. Your hips rolled against Robby’s thigh without thinking. You were wet enough to make a mess on the seat, your inner thighs shiny and flushed, your cunt open and begging. Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t look back. But you watched the way his hand moved next.

He let the panties fall into his lap. Then he unzipped his slacks with one hand, the other still tight on the wheel, wrist locked and steady. He reached inside, fished his cock out slow and deliberate. It was thick. Fully hard. Red at the head and already glistening with precum.

He wrapped the soaked panties tight around the base like a fist and gave one long stroke upward, his mouth falling open, breath catching. The sound he made this time was rough and quiet and punched straight to your clit.

You whimpered. Then turned to Robby.

Your hand dropped to his lap like you’d been waiting to do it all night. You could see the shape of his cock through his jeans, huge and straining against the fly, thick enough that it pushed the denim up with every throb. You pressed your palm flat and rubbed.

The friction made him growl, low and hot. He pushed his hips into your touch like he needed more, and you gave it to him, your fingers curling around the shape of him, squeezing at the head before stroking downward again.

Jack’s strokes sped up.

He was jerking himself with your panties wrapped tight, the soaked fabric making every stroke slick and messy. You could hear it. Hear the wet sound of your slick squelching between his fist and his cock. He never looked away from the road.

But he kept the mirror tilted down just enough to see your face when your head dropped back again, lips parted, eyes lidded, cunt still twitching from the last pass of Robby’s fingers.

Robby dipped his fingers back between your thighs and groaned when he felt how wet you still were. He didn’t even have to fight for space. Your legs were wide open, knees pulled up, hips canting forward to meet his hand.

His middle finger dragged slowly through your folds, catching at your entrance before pushing inside, then curling. You gasped. Your other hand squeezed his cock harder. Your back arched into the seat.

“Jesus,” Robby murmured, tongue against your throat. “You’re going to soak the whole fucking car.”

And you were.

The smell of sex was thick in the air now. Your slick was dripping onto the leather, fingers moving inside you, Jack’s cock pumping in front of you while your panties clung tight to the base.

You were panting, leaking, moaning, holding onto Robby’s cock like you needed it to stay upright, and Jack was driving like he’d done this before, never missing a turn.

Because he had.

Because of course he knew exactly where you lived.

And tonight, he was finally going to see what it sounded like when you begged.

The second the car rolled to a stop, you were already reaching for the handle, the tension inside you ready to snap. The inside of your thighs were slick, your panties long gone, your dress rumpled and clinging to your skin.

Jack’s cock was still out, lazily stroking himself with the panties he’d claimed from you like a prize, his grip firm and wet around the base, the tip flushed and glistening in the dark. When you climbed out, your legs nearly gave under you.

Robby was there immediately, strong and silent, one hand steady at your lower back as you stumbled toward your front door. Your keys slipped once in your hand. Jack reached forward and steadied them, guiding your hand to the lock without a word. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask. He just followed you in like he belonged there.

The inside of your flat was dim, lit only by the soft yellow glow from a lamp you must have left on earlier. The space was small but warm, full of colour and texture, bookshelves stuffed to the brim, records stacked next to the speaker, candles melted down to stubs on the table.

There was a light scent of vanilla and lavender still clinging to the air, something soft and lived-in, a sharp contrast to the filth dragging behind you from the car. Robby closed the door behind the three of you, and the sound of the lock sliding home sent a fresh rush of heat straight between your legs.

You didn’t make it past the entryway. Jack didn’t let you. His hands were already on your dress, dragging it up your thighs until it bunched around your waist. He stepped back and let Robby drop to his knees in front of you without saying a word.

Robby looked up at you like a man starved. He grabbed your thighs with both hands, spread them open, and leaned forward, licking a broad, wet stripe straight up your cunt from dripping hole to swollen clit. You cried out and grabbed the wall for balance.

His tongue was hot and rough, filthy in how he licked and sucked at you, groaning into your cunt like it fed him. He buried his face deeper between your legs, tongue flicking over your clit in tight, brutal circles that had you shaking almost instantly. Your thighs quivered. Your chest heaved. Your slick coated his mouth, his chin, glistened on his cheeks in the low light.

And then he reached for his belt.

You felt the motion more than you saw it. The way he shifted, the soft sound of leather sliding loose, the slow pull of a zipper coming down just beneath where his mouth was still devouring you. Your eyes dropped down your body, across the slope of your belly, past the bunched fabric of your dress, and you saw it, his cock, thick and flushed, freed from the heat of his jeans with one hand still wet from your thighs.

He didn’t stroke it. He didn’t touch it. He just let it hang heavy between his knees, hard and leaking, twitching every time you moaned. The head was flushed deep pink, already glistening, his length wide and full, the veins standing out thick down the side.

You could see his breathing change as he pushed his face in deeper, one hand steadying your leg, the other curling around your thigh to hold you open as his mouth sealed around your clit again.

Behind you, Jack was breathing harder. You could hear it, the wet sound of his fist stroking up his cock, the slippery drag of your panties wrapped tight around the shaft, every slow pump of his hand sending a jolt of heat down your spine.

He watched everything. He didn’t blink. He was leaned against the wall beside the door, one foot propped behind him, hand working his cock in slow, deliberate strokes as his eyes devoured the sight of Robby’s mouth on you and the way your body was starting to fall apart. His voice came low behind you, strained and dark.

“That’s it,” Jack muttered, voice heavy. “Let him ruin that pussy, baby. I want to watch you cum like that again.”

You were panting, lips parted, eyes glazed. Robby groaned into your cunt, his tongue working faster, his hips shifting like he was fucking the air in time with your sounds. You looked down at him again and whimpered when you saw it — his cock pulsing against his stomach, dripping precum down the shaft without him even touching it. He was that hard. That desperate.

His tongue flicked faster. You gripped his hair, rolled your hips forward, let him eat you like he’d earned it. He moaned so loud it vibrated through your clit, and that was it. Your orgasm slammed into you like a train.

Your legs locked. Your thighs clenched around his head. You let out a strangled cry as your whole body pulsed around his mouth, your cunt fluttering and soaking him again, slick pouring down his chin and onto the floor.

Jack groaned behind you.

You barely heard the slap of skin on skin as he stroked himself harder, your panties soaked and bunched in his fist. His cock was flushed to the tip now, balls pulled tight, hips jerking with every stroke as he watched you fall apart in your own hallway.

You could smell yourself in the air. Taste it on your tongue. You looked back at him and saw it, the red flush across his chest, the glint of teeth as he clenched his jaw, the tip of his cock shining with spit and precum.

And you knew he wasn’t going to wait much longer.

You were still catching your breath when Robby finally pulled back from between your thighs, his mouth and chin soaked with your release, his lips parted and red, his cock flushed and pulsing between his legs. He looked wrecked. His chest heaved with every breath, his skin damp with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead.

You watched as he stood and stripped, his shirt dragged up over his head in one smooth motion, the muscles in his abdomen flexing with the stretch. His jeans dropped next.

He kicked them aside, and there he was, completely bare, nothing left between you. His cock was thick, long, hard as hell, bobbing slightly with every breath he took.

The head was dark pink, already leaking, the shaft veined and heavy, his balls pulled up tight beneath it. You couldn't stop staring. Your mouth watered. Your thighs clenched again, still slick from the orgasm he'd dragged out of you in your hallway.

Jack was still standing in front of you, fully clothed except for the undone slacks and his cock out and stroking slow. His body was stone-still, one hand braced on the wall, the other working the length of his cock in long, firm pulls.

He was watching you. Only you. His eyes dragged down your body, slow and dark, lingering on the mess between your legs and the way your chest lifted with every breath. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

You turned toward him, your hands reaching for his shirt with a soft, wordless plea, and he didn’t hesitate. You tugged on the fabric, breathless, eyes searching his. You whispered for him to take it off.

Jack kissed you instead. His mouth crushed down on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips with no warning, his hand curling around the back of your neck to keep you there. His cock pressed hot and hard to your stomach, and you moaned into his mouth as he bit gently at your lower lip.

Then he pulled away just enough to yank the shirt up over his head and drop it to the floor. His chest was bare, smooth, broad and clean, his skin warm and flushed.

You ran your hands over the tight muscles across his stomach and ribs, your nails dragging lightly down the line of his torso. You looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted, and he smirked when he saw it.

Your own dress was next. You peeled it off slowly, hands shaking, fabric clinging to your hips and ribs as you pulled it up. It was damp in places where your body had soaked through, and it left a soft coolness in its absence as it lifted free.

Your nipples were already hard, your stomach tense, your cunt flushed and dripping, your inner thighs smeared with your own slick. You let the dress fall behind you and stood still under their eyes, chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. Jack’s cock twitched. Robby’s fingers flexed at his sides.

“I... bedroom,” you managed, voice thin and hopeful, but they didn’t move.

Jack’s head tilted. Robby just smiled.

They didn’t need to say anything.

They both stepped toward you in sync, hands light but firm, and Jack’s voice was soft but final when he murmured, “No. Right here.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t blink. You dropped to your knees.

The floor was cool against your skin. The hardwood pressed against your shins, the air brushing against your cunt as your legs spread wider. You looked up at them both, your chest open, your lips parted, and your pulse thundering in your throat.

You knew exactly what they wanted. Knew by the way Jack’s cock bobbed in his grip, thick and flushed, veins running up the sides. Knew by the way Robby’s fist slowly stroked the base of his shaft, his eyes locked to your mouth, precum glistening at the tip. They were both hard. Desperate. Silent with it. Their need didn’t allow for anything more.

You placed your hands gently on your thighs, waited, mouth wet, breath catching, ready.

Jack stepped forward, his cock inches from your lips, the scent of him thick in the air between you.

You opened your mouth without being told.

Your knees ached faintly against the floor, but you didn’t care. Not when they were standing over you like that. Not when their cocks were flushed and swollen and leaking right in front of your face. You were still catching your breath, your thighs sticky, your hair sticking to your cheeks as you looked between them.

Jack was stroking himself lazily, the head of his cock glistening, thick drops of precum sliding down the shaft with every pump of his fist. His other hand tangled in your hair as he guided your face closer. Robby stood to your right, cock already resting against your cheek, the warmth of it making your lips part on instinct. He brushed a thumb over your jaw, his touch gentle, patient, like he was watching something sacred.

You opened your mouth, tongue wet and ready, and Jack didn’t waste time. He pressed his cock between your lips with a slow, heavy thrust, the head spreading your mouth wide as he groaned low under his breath.

The taste of him hit your tongue immediately — salty, musky, slick with precum. He was hot, pulsing against your tongue, the weight of him stretching your jaw.

You moaned around it, the sound thick and muffled, and Jack hissed as he pushed deeper, his fingers fisting tighter in your hair.

“That’s right,” he growled, his voice low and tight. “Get it fucking wet. I want to feel that throat squeeze.”

You sucked harder, your tongue sliding under the shaft, swirling around the head as he started to fuck your mouth in shallow thrusts. He didn’t ease you into it. He gripped the back of your head and pushed until the tip hit the back of your throat, and then he shoved deeper.

You choked. Gagged. Drool spilled out around the corners of your lips and down your chin. Jack didn’t stop. He held you there, cock buried down your throat, hips twitching as he moaned above you.

“Fuck, that’s good. You were made for this. Look at the mess you’re making.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. Spit ran down your chest. Your throat fluttered around him as he pulled back just enough to let you breathe, only to slam forward again. You whimpered. You moaned. You let him use your mouth like it belonged to him.

Then Robby leaned in.

His hand wrapped gently around yours and brought it to his cock. You gripped him instinctively. He was hot and thick and twitching in your palm, the skin silky over steel, the veins pronounced, the head already leaking onto your knuckles.

He let out a breathless groan the second you started stroking, slow and tight, your fist twisting just enough to make him shiver. His hand covered yours as he guided the rhythm, hips barely moving as he let you jerk him off while Jack’s cock slid in and out of your throat.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” Robby murmured. “Just like that. You’re perfect.”

The contrast nearly broke you.

Jack was holding your head down, grunting and whispering filth, fucking your mouth like it was his personal toy. Robby was rubbing slow circles over your wrist with his thumb, whispering praise as you worked him with slick fingers.

You pulled off Jack’s cock with a wet gasp, spit stringing from your lips to the tip, your voice hoarse as you turned toward Robby. His cock nudged your mouth immediately, and you took him in slow, savouring the smooth heat of him, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked under the crown.

Robby groaned, hand gentle in your hair. “God, that mouth. You’re incredible.”

You sucked him deep, one hand braced on his thigh, the other reaching blindly for Jack. Your fingers found his cock again, slick and pulsing in your grip. You stroked him as you sucked Robby down, your throat relaxing to take more of him. He didn’t push. He let you control the pace.

Let you worship him with your mouth, your lips stretched and shiny, your moans humming against the length of him. His head fell back, breath catching when your nose brushed his pelvis.

Behind you, Jack hissed and thrust into your fist. His precum slicked your fingers, made every stroke sound wet and obscene. He was so hard he was trembling, his breath ragged as he watched your lips slide down Robby’s shaft.

“God, look at her,” Jack rasped. “Fucking look at her. So greedy. You gonna take us both, baby? Gonna choke on our cocks like a good little whore?”

You moaned around Robby’s cock.

Pulled back. Gasped. Turned back to Jack with spit trailing from your lips and took him in again, deeper this time, your hand moving back to Robby’s cock to jerk him fast and messy as your throat opened around Jack’s length.

They both groaned.

Jack’s hand held your head still, his hips rolling, sweat beading down his abs as he drove his cock into your mouth over and over again. Robby cupped your cheek as you stroked him, his voice low and sweet above you.

“Atta girl. Just like that. You’re perfect, baby, perfect for us.”

You alternated between them until your jaw ached, your throat raw, your arms shaking from how tight you were gripping them. Drool slicked your chest and your thighs rubbed together with need, your pussy soaked and twitching every time Jack muttered how much he wanted to fuck your face and ruin your throat.

You were dizzy. High on the taste of them. Addicted to the way their bodies bucked into your mouth and hand like they couldn’t help themselves. They were close. Not close enough to cum, but close enough to lose control.

And you were just getting started.

Jack pulled his cock from your mouth with a sharp, wet pop, strands of saliva snapping from your lips to his tip, your jaw hanging open and raw. He was panting, eyes dark and blown wide, his fist tightening around the base of his cock as he looked down at the mess you’d become.

Spit dripped from your chin to your chest. Your fingers trembled around Robby’s shaft, still stroking him tight and slow, his precum making your palm slick.

You turned your head and kissed the underside of Robby’s cock without thinking, lips dragging along the thick vein at the base, tongue swiping over the soft skin as he moaned above you.

“Jesus,” Robby breathed, his hand gentle at the back of your head. “She’s so fucking sweet.”

Jack’s voice cut in, rougher, harsher, full of the filth that had been crawling under his skin since the second you touched him. “Sweet? Look at her. She’s begging for cock. Don’t let that pretty mouth fool you — she wants both of us inside her. Mouth. Pussy. Anywhere we’ll give it.”

Your breath caught.

Jack stepped around you slowly, dragging the head of his cock across your lips again, smearing the slick over your cheek as he moved behind you. Robby stayed in front, his cock throbbing against your palm.

You looked up at him just as Jack’s hands gripped your hips from behind, spreading you open with one knee between your thighs. You let him guide you lower, spine arching, ass up, cheek resting against Robby’s thigh, your tongue already out as you opened your mouth again.

Jack groaned when he saw the angle. Your back was arched perfectly. Your cunt was on full display, slick and swollen and twitching with every breath.

He stroked himself once, twice, then leaned in and dragged the head of his cock through your folds, watching as your wetness clung to his tip and smeared down the shaft.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his cock slipping between your lips, not pushing in, just teasing. “You’re soaked. You’re fucking dripping for it.”

You whimpered. Your hand jerked faster on Robby’s cock, wrist twisting, fingers squeezing as he let out a deep moan above you. He cupped your chin, tilted your face back toward him, and tapped his cock against your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, voice breathless, reverent.

You nodded. Eager. Eyes wide and wet.

Robby pushed forward gently. His cock slipped between your lips, hot and pulsing, your tongue welcoming it as he filled your mouth. You moaned around him, the sound vibrating along his shaft as he pushed deeper, his hips moving slow and careful, his hand stroking your hair as you relaxed your throat for him.

Behind you, Jack was still teasing, dragging the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your slick but refusing to push in.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned. “You should see how this pussy’s clenching. She wants it. She’s shaking for it.”

You were. Your thighs trembled. Your cunt fluttered every time the head of his cock kissed your entrance. Your moans grew louder around Robby’s cock, spit bubbling past your lips, leaking down your chin and over your knuckles as you worked both of them in rhythm.

Robby was fucking your mouth with slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to choke you too fast, his words soft and sweet above the obscene sounds of your lips around him.

“You’re perfect, baby. So good for us. That mouth feels like heaven.”

Jack wasn’t sweet. Jack spat on your pussy and spread it with two fingers, then rubbed the mess into your clit until your hips jerked and you cried out around Robby’s cock.

“You like being used like this?” he growled. “You like choking on one cock while you drip down the other?”

You moaned louder. Saliva ran down your throat. Your jaw ached. Your pussy clenched empty.

You were ready for more.

Robby’s cock pulsed against your tongue as he pushed deeper, hips barely moving but heavy with restraint. You let your lips stretch wide around him, your throat fluttering as he reached the back of it. His hand cradled your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, his other resting loosely on the crown of your head.

You moaned again, softer now, an aching sound that vibrated around the length of him and made his hips twitch forward, just a little deeper, his breath catching above you.

Behind you, Jack’s fingers were still spreading your folds, his knuckles brushing against your fluttering hole as he teased you with maddening patience. He let your slick gather on his fingertips, then dragged them slow and deliberate over your clit again, grinding circles that made your hips jerk forward into Robby’s thighs. You could barely breathe.

Your pussy clenched open and empty, aching with need as Jack leaned in, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your entrance, thick and hot and already wet with your arousal. He still didn’t push in. He just held it there, letting it throb against your cunt while he grinned down at the mess of you spread out before them.

"She’s dripping all over the floor," he muttered, voice low and filthy, his palm smacking your ass once, hard enough to make your whole body jolt. "You see this, Robby? She’s shaking for it. She’s soaking my cock and I haven’t even given her an inch."

Robby moaned above you. “She’s perfect. Look at her—so eager, so fucking good. That mouth’s made for me.”

Your eyes watered as his cock slid deeper again, your jaw stretching wide around him, spit leaking past your lips to drip down your chin. Robby’s hips rocked forward with slow, tender rhythm, each thrust easing your throat open, his hands never rough, always gentle, guiding you like you were precious.

You drooled around his cock, swallowing when you could, your tongue moving in slow circles underneath the head every time he paused at the back of your throat.

Your hand still worked his shaft when he slid back far enough, wrist flicking, fingers curled tight and wet with the mess from your mouth. You whimpered when he pulled back slightly, your lips clinging to his shaft, and he groaned like the sound broke him open.

Then Jack pushed in.

It was sudden, hard, with no warning, just the brutal stretch of his cock pressing into your cunt, splitting you open inch by inch until you cried out around Robby’s cock.

Your moan was strangled, muffled by the length filling your mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks as your hips were rocked forward from the force of Jack’s thrust.

He groaned low and deep behind you, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises, dragging you back to meet each thrust like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he snarled through gritted teeth, his hips slamming into you again, rougher this time. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight. You needed this cock, didn’t you? Needed me to fuck you open while your mouth gets filled?”

Your body trembled. You could feel every thick inch of him inside you, your walls stretched and fluttering around him, his cock grinding against every sensitive part of you as he fucked you deep and rough.

Each thrust shoved you forward, forced Robby’s cock deeper into your throat, made your lips stretch even wider. You were gagging now, saliva pouring freely down your chin, your throat spasming every time he hit the back of it. Still, you didn’t pull back. You took it. You wanted all of it.

Robby was moaning now, his fingers tangled in your hair, barely holding himself back. “She’s shaking. Baby, she’s shaking so hard.”

You were. Your thighs trembled. Your arms were weak. Your cunt was stretched and aching and full, and your jaw burned from the way Robby filled your mouth. But you didn’t stop.

You sucked and moaned and took it, your body a conduit for their need, your own desire rising so fast it made your head spin. Jack’s cock slammed into your cunt again, and again, his pelvis grinding against your ass, his voice rough with control slipping.

"You gonna cum like this, sweetheart?" he growled, fucking into you harder, faster, each slap of his hips echoing in the room. "You gonna squirt all over my cock while you choke on his?"

You moaned so loudly around Robby’s cock it sounded like a sob. Your walls clenched. Your vision blurred. Robby’s hand cradled your jaw as he fucked your throat a little deeper, still slow, still tender, his praise soft and reverent.

"You’re so good for us. So sweet. That’s it, baby. Take it all. You’re fucking perfect."

Jack's voice was a growl, barely human. "No more teasing. You’re coming. I wanna feel this pussy milk me while you're gagging on his cock."

He reached around and rubbed your clit, fingers circling tight and fast as his cock slammed into you. Your whole body tensed. You moaned high in your throat, a broken, desperate sound, and then you were coming hard, cunt spasming around Jack’s cock as your orgasm ripped through you.

Wetness sprayed down your thighs, soaking him, soaking the floor, your first squirting orgasm making you cry out around Robby’s cock as your body convulsed.

“Fuck, she’s squirting,” Jack groaned. “Jesus Christ, she’s fucking gushing.”

Robby moaned above you, eyes wide with awe, hips jerking forward into your mouth as he tried not to cum from the sight of it. Your mouth was still stretched around him, your pussy still clenching around Jack, your body a mess of slick and spit and sweat, shaking between them as they filled every part of you.

And you weren’t done. Not even close.

Jack didn’t say a word as he pulled out of your trembling cunt, his cock glistening with your slick, his hand wrapping around it to keep himself from spilling too soon. Robby was already helping you up, arms steady and careful, holding your waist as your legs shook beneath you.

He kissed your forehead once before guiding you toward the couch in the living room, not bothering to look back. Jack followed behind, eyes glued to the way your thighs glistened, how your pussy was still clenching open and empty, swollen and twitching from your orgasm.

The second your knees hit the edge of the cushions, Robby spun you around and pushed you down onto your back, his mouth already crashing against yours, soft and slow and full of heat as Jack came to stand beside the couch, stroking his cock slow and steady, watching your body stretch across the cushions like something made to be fucked.

Your legs spread easily, the backs of your thighs brushing against the warm fabric as Robby climbed between them. He kissed your stomach, your hips, the soft underside of your breasts, his hands sliding up to cup them both, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peaked against his palms.

Then he pushed in with one slow, deep thrust, burying himself inside your pussy with a groan that rumbled through his chest. You gasped beneath him, eyes rolling back as he filled you, the stretch gentler than Jack’s but no less overwhelming.

He started to fuck you slow, hips rolling deep and careful, his chest pressed to yours, your nipples rubbing against the light trail of hair on his sternum as he moved.

Every time he pulled back, your tits bounced slightly, the motion making your breath hitch, your moans sharp and soft in his ear.

Jack couldn’t stop staring. His hand was tight around the base of his cock, his chest rising and falling fast as he watched Robby drive into you again and again, your cunt sucking him in like you never wanted to let go.

When Robby finally pulled out with a trembling breath, Jack stepped forward without hesitation, one hand on your thigh, the other guiding his cock to your entrance. He didn’t tease this time. He just slid in hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt with one brutal thrust that knocked a cry from your lips.

Your back arched, tits bouncing with the force, the wet slap of his hips echoing through the room. Jack’s pace was ruthless, fast and hungry, each thrust making your body jerk up the couch as he fucked you open all over again.

Your fingers clawed at the cushions, your thighs spread wide, your cunt fluttering around him as he growled down at you, his hands gripping your knees to keep you steady.

“You hear that?” he panted, hips slamming into yours, the sound of your pussy squelching around his cock impossibly loud. “She’s fucking soaked again. This cunt’s made for us.”

When Jack finally slowed, pulling out with a groan that sounded like it hurt to hold back, Robby was already kneeling between your legs again, guiding himself back into you with a low moan. This time he fucked you faster, your pussy stretched and ready for it, your tits bouncing with each thrust as his hands gripped your waist tight.

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, mouth open, and when you saw the way his brows pulled together, the way his jaw clenched and his rhythm started to falter, you knew he was close.

You turned your head toward Jack, who was stroking himself in tight jerks beside you, his cock flushed and leaking, the muscles in his stomach tight as a bowstring.

“Inside,” you gasped, voice breaking as Robby thrust deeper. “I want it inside. Please. I’m on the pill, I need it, both of you, please, come inside me.”

Jack groaned like the words shattered something in him. Robby’s hips stuttered, his hands shaking as he fucked you harder, your walls fluttering around him as he gave in to the need in your voice.

You reached for Jack blindly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, tugging him closer, guiding his cock toward your entrance again as Robby pulled out with a strangled cry, stroking himself over your pussy, desperate to hold back but failing the second he saw the way your cunt was still fluttering open, begging for more.

You were going to be filled. You were going to be full of both of them. And you wanted every drop.

Jack was the first to push back inside you, your cunt still soaked, stretched wide from the way Robby had fucked you moments before. He didn’t wait. The head of his cock caught on your entrance for half a second before he slammed all the way in, burying himself to the base with a groan that sounded ripped from his chest.

You cried out, your thighs trembling as your pussy clenched down around him, the soreness sharp but addicting. He felt different now, heavier, harder, the veins along his shaft throbbing as he bottomed out again and again, his hips slapping against your soaked folds in messy, wet smacks that echoed off the walls.

The room was humid, thick with sweat and the smell of sex, your bodies sticking to the couch cushions with every grind and thrust. Your hands came up to your chest without thinking, cupping your breasts, squeezing them as your nipples ached for more friction.

You pinched and rolled them between your fingers, gasping as you arched into your own touch, tits bouncing each time Jack drove forward and shook your whole body with the force of it.

He was close. You could feel it. The way his thrusts got sloppier, deeper, his rhythm faltering, his hands digging into your hips like he was trying to stop time.

His forehead pressed against yours, damp with sweat, his breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts. He was looking at you like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling, like you were undoing him from the inside out.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he panted, voice shaking, eyes dark and glassy. “You want it? You want me to fucking fill this pussy up?”

“Please,” you whispered, voice raw. “I need it, Jack. I want your cum inside me. Give it to me, baby.”

That broke him. He groaned loud and low, hips slamming forward one final time as his cock pulsed deep inside you. You felt the first hot wave of his release hit your walls, thick and sudden, his cum spilling into you in slow, warm spurts that made your whole body jerk.

Your pussy clenched around him like it was trying to milk every last drop, holding him in as his cock twitched and throbbed, your cunt now filled with his heat, the sensation of it soaking your insides making your stomach tighten with need all over again.

Jack collapsed over you for a moment, chest heaving, his body heavy and flushed and trembling. He didn’t pull out right away, like he couldn’t stand to leave your warmth just yet.

You ran your hands over his back, fingers dragging through the sweat slicking his skin, your breath mingling with his as you kissed his jaw, his neck, whispering how good it felt, how badly you needed more.

Then Robby was there, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, his lips softer, cooler, as he coaxed Jack to move. Jack grunted, slowly easing his cock out of your cunt with a wet, obscene sound that left you both twitching.

His cum trickled down your slit the second he slipped free, hot and slow and sticky, a creamy mess that Robby stared at like he was starving.

“God,” Robby breathed, his voice hoarse. “You’re so full of him. Look at that. Fuck, you’re dripping.”

You whimpered as he guided himself into your pussy again, pushing past the mess Jack left behind, his cock sliding through the slick with ease, your walls clenching hard around him like they were desperate to keep everything inside.

The sensation was overwhelming. You could feel Jack’s cum being pushed deeper, the stretch of Robby’s cock as it moved through the wet heat of your pussy making your head spin.

Your fingers stayed on your breasts, still playing with your nipples, still tugging and squeezing as Robby fucked into you slow and deep, his body shivering with the effort to hold back just a little longer.

He was gentler than Jack, but not by much. His thrusts were long and smooth, grinding deep every time his hips met yours, the curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot with each stroke.

Your cunt was sensitive, overstimulated, but still aching for more, every nerve lit up from the stretch, the fullness, the lingering heat of Jack’s cum still inside you. Robby kissed your neck as he fucked you, his hands cupping your waist, his forehead pressed to your cheek.

“You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick and trembling. “So fucking perfect. Taking both of us like this, letting us fill you… you’ve got no idea what that does to me.”

You moaned under him, legs wrapping around his hips as he moved faster, cock driving deeper with each thrust. Your tits bounced again, the slick sound of your cunt taking him over and over filling the room, louder now, wetter, messier. You could feel his cock pulsing, his rhythm faltering, the telltale shudder in his arms as he started to break.

“Cum in me,” you begged again, your voice wrecked. “I want it. I want all of it. Please, Robby. I want you leaking out of me too.”

That was all it took. He gasped against your neck, cock slamming in once more, then again, and then he was groaning, breath punched from his lungs as he spilled deep inside you. You felt the first thick pulse of his release flood your cunt, mixing with Jack’s, the pressure of it making your whole body shiver.

Robby buried his face in your shoulder as he came, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself fully, his cum joining the mess already soaking your pussy.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hands falling to your sides as you felt both of them dripping out of you, your cunt fluttering weakly, overwhelmed and full, your thighs sticky with their release.

The room was still except for your breaths, all three of you panting hard, the only sound the wet slide of Robby slowly easing out of you, his cum spilling down your ass and pooling on the couch beneath you.

Neither of them spoke at first. Jack’s fingers brushed your knee, slow and reverent, while Robby leaned down and kissed your stomach, your inner thighs, the corner of your mouth.

Your chest was heaving, breasts still bouncing gently with each breath, nipples flushed and tight from your own touch, your whole body buzzing with the aftershocks. Sweat clung to your skin, their cum clung to your cunt, and you couldn’t stop smiling.

You’d never felt more used. You’d never felt more wanted. You’d never felt more full.

The words slipped out between shaky breaths, soft and almost embarrassed, your thighs still sticky with the mess they’d filled you with. “Shower. I… I need a shower.” You blinked slowly, your body thrumming, your voice smaller now that the heat had ebbed and the wet ache between your legs was all that lingered. “We should all… clean up.”

Your cheeks burned the moment you said it, the reality of what had just happened sinking in fast now that the adrenaline had worn off and your head had cleared.

The drinks you’d had earlier, the warmth that had loosened your tongue and your limbs, felt like they’d evaporated the second your pussy stopped pulsing and your lips stopped begging.

You felt small again, vulnerable even as you sat naked and soaked on the couch, cum still sliding down your thighs, your hands now nervously tugging at the edge of the cushion as you avoided their eyes.

The last hour had turned you inside out, and now that your brain had caught up to your body, you were suddenly acutely aware that you’d just begged two older men, two men who could ruin you with just a glance, to fill you raw like it was the only thing you’d ever wanted.

Robby was the first to respond, his voice quiet, warm, still tinged with a bit of wonder as he leaned in and kissed your temple. “That sounds like a good idea, baby.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, but his hand brushed your lower back, then moved to cup your hip, thumb dragging through the sticky mess he’d left behind. He gave you a crooked smile, his voice low and unreadable. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You stood on shaky legs, thighs still trembling from being stretched and used, and motioned for them to follow you down the hallway. The floor was cool beneath your bare feet, the soft carpet brushing your calves as you led them into your bedroom, dimly lit and still warm with the residual heat from earlier.

You didn’t pause. You kept walking, trying to ignore how their eyes were burning into your back, your ass, how you were still dripping with them as you opened the door to your ensuite bathroom.

The room smelled faintly of lavender from the candle you’d lit earlier, the air still humid from the last shower you’d taken before they arrived.

Soft cream-colored tiles lined the floor, and the glass-walled shower took up the back half of the space, large enough for three bodies if they pressed close enough.

You turned the water on without a word, reaching in to adjust the temperature, letting the steam rise and fill the room until it curled through your hair.

Jack stepped in behind you first. His hands settled on your hips as he guided you under the water, his mouth pressing softly to your shoulder. “Let us take care of you.”

Robby joined you on the other side, his fingers brushing yours as he grabbed the body wash and lathered it between his hands, the scent of eucalyptus rising thick and clean as he stepped forward and began to run his hands over your chest.

His palms were gentle, almost reverent, moving in slow circles across your breasts, down your ribs, over the curve of your stomach. His fingertips avoided the more sensitive spots at first, skimming, warming, careful. You closed your eyes as Jack did the same from behind, his hands trailing up your sides, cupping your breasts briefly before sliding down to your hips.

Together they washed you like you were something precious, something breakable after what they’d done to you, and maybe you were. Your skin was flushed, marked with fingerprints, your inner thighs sore, but none of it mattered under the steam and the weight of their hands.

When they were done, you took the bottle from Robby and poured a generous amount into your own palms. You turned slowly, fingers dragging down Jack’s chest first.

His skin was smooth, warm under your touch, and you traced every muscle, every scar, watching the way his jaw clenched as your hands moved lower.

You lathered him with the same care, trailing suds across his hips, along the lines of his abdomen, washing the dried slick and sweat from his skin, and when you reached his cock, soft now but still heavy, you gave it one last gentle stroke, watching his lips part with a breath.

Robby leaned into you next, resting his hands on the glass behind you as you cleaned him the same way, slower, more delicate. His body was broader, a little softer in places, but no less beautiful.

You ran your palms across his pecs, his stomach, down between his legs, where he let out a quiet hum of approval, eyes never leaving yours. Neither of them tried anything. They didn’t push, didn’t touch you in return.

They just let you take your time, both of them standing quiet and still under the water as it ran in long rivulets down their backs and over their chests.

After the water was shut off and the air filled with steam and the scent of clean skin and something deeper—sex, sweat, warmth—you handed them each a towel and grabbed one for yourself. Jack dried himself in slow, unhurried strokes, water still clinging to his hair, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked. Robby’s towel hung low on his hips, his hand absently brushing water from your shoulder as he leaned against the sink.

You stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around your chest, trying not to look too long at the bruises starting to bloom on your thighs or the faint marks on your neck.

The silence was comfortable, but the nerves started to creep in again, your stomach flipping as you twisted your fingers in the hem of the towel and bit your lip.

You turned toward them slowly, still blushing, still naked beneath the thin cotton. “Do you… want to stay?”

Your voice cracked a little at the end, the question half-whispered, barely audible over the quiet drip of the showerhead behind you. You didn’t meet their eyes. You couldn’t. Not yet. Not when your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack open your ribs.

Jack crossed the space between you first. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along the apple of your flushed face.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “We’re staying.”

Robby stepped in behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his lips brushing the curve of your damp shoulder.

“As long as you want us,” he said gently, “we’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the blush on your cheeks deepened, your fingers tugging the towel tighter even as your chest filled with something warmer than embarrassment. You nodded slowly, eyes still down, heart fluttering, your body already beginning to ache for them again.

[fertilise-me]

Fuck me!! 🥵🥵🥵