oh em gee!

|she/her| gee or george | your 20 year old average brit | MDNI 18+

[heydorothrry]

⫘⫘⫘ Welcome Readers! ⫘⫘⫘

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fandoms that i love (to name a few): marvel, dc, the pitt, stranger things, true detective, the boys, britpop and more

{i'll add as i write more}

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⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ HAPPY READING, I HOPE YOU ENJOY! x

[heydorothrry]

⫘⫘⫘ Rules and Regulations ⫘⫘⫘

Hi everyone! I’m a newbie to Tumblr and am taking a crack at writing on here instead of Wattpad. Please feel free to send requests or ideas and please be respectful when doing so, I simply ask that you take a look at the following guidelines below.

This blog is mature! MDNI 18+

Despite the above reason, I will accept anonymous requests but if I have any reason to suspect you’re underage you will be BLOCKED!

I have no writing schedule and may disappear for days or weeks at a time for a number of different reasons. I am a social butterfly.

Please keep in mind that if I don’t reply I may not have seen your request or do not plan to write it, in this case I will message you. I want to keep this fun and don’t want writing to be a chore so I may refuse to write something I’m not inspired by.

I will happily write smut, but if there are details I’m uncomfortable with, I will leave them out.

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Include key details you’d like to see and whether you’d like fluff, smut, angst etc or a mixed bag.

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Thank you and happy reading!

[mcybank]

⊹ jack abbot makes you ride him while you finish fighting warnings: 18+ minors dni! unprotected piv, established relationship, multiple positions ( spooning, prone, cowgirl ) fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, biting, jack jealousy-bating, jack provoking overandover again, angry sex!!!! lots of name-calling, hair pulling/tugging, light spanking, literally them using sex to take out frustration ⊹ notes: ANDDDDD POST BYE !!!!!! queued her

pettiness was your strong suit. it was – in fact – one of the reasons why jack had fallen for you in the first place, back when it had been aimed at anyone but him. he’d found it utterly delightful, his little menace that could hold grudges like a steel trap. it’d turned on him now.

you’d folded into the far side of the bed, facing the wall, your spine all stiff. you’d stormed in here twenty minutes ago mid-argument and claimed the bed like a fort, and you’d been lobbing grievances over your shoulder ever since, even as jack finished getting ready in the bathroom, even as the water shut off and his footsteps came and went.

“and another thing,” you announced in the direction of the wall. “if it were my work thing, you would not call that a date. you’d call that watching me work. which is what this is. so don’t act like you’re being romantic – ”

“are you done?”

you were, in fact, just getting started. if all went according to plan, you would’ve continued this after the event (you weren’t that petty) and been mad in his ear allllll night long, lullaby-ing him to sleep with a list of all his wrong choices; you would’ve named a problem for every hour in a sweet sing-song voice.

you made your first mistake by glancing over your shoulder at him; shirtless, slacks open and belt dangling, hair still slightly damp, standing in the doorway like he had all the time in the world and no fight to lose.

it was, frankly, a cheap shot to show up looking like that in the middle of an argument you were winning.

he raised a brow, then shook his head before he crossed the room in three long strides and climbed in behind you. his fingers went straight to the hem of the t-shirt you’d put on after finishing your makeup and pulled it over your head. you made a sound of protest, but lifted yourself up just slightly to let him do it. answer enough, you supposed.

he tossed it aside, and his hands were immediately on you, sliding down your ribs until one hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying, while the other dipped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and giving it a squeeze that made you inhale sharply.

“still mad?” he asked, leaning in for his mouth to brush against your shoulder blade. his hand kneaded at your hip, moving to the soft inside of your thigh.

“yes,” you said, but it came out weaker than before. “jack – ”

your words stopped as his hand moved from your hip to your breast, gathering the weight under his palms before his thumb came up to brush against your hardened peak.

“hello? cat got your tongue?” he said through a snort, pulling you flush against him, chin going into the curve of your neck. he ground his hips against you then, letting out a low breath through his mouth. he pushed a fist into the mattress by your ribs, caging you in. “what d’you wanna talk about?”

“i’m serious, jack,” you said, trying to force your voice even. “you wouldn’t call it a date.”

he hummed, fingers shamelessly sliding down as he said, “come on, baby. if you wanna keep talkin’ about this, you gotta do better than that.”

“do better – ” you let your neck turn back to face him, and he immediately tilted his head down, his tongue peeking out as he tried to bite back a grin. “ – my points are good enough.”

he ducked and caught your mouth, teeth nipping at your lip the same second his fingers slid under the lace. he smiled into the kiss, fingers running down your folds. you pulled away immediately, going to face the wall again.

“did this happen when you called me a smug asshole?” he circled the pad of his finger once over your clit, causing you to shudder slightly against him. “or when you decided i’m a liar?”

“jackass,” you muttered.

“real creative.” he shifted behind you, other hand going to shove his slacks further down his hips, freeing his cock. he pulled back slightly, and wrapped his hand around himself, stroking once – twice – before pressing the head of it to the curve of your ass. he exhaled once through his nose, intertwining his fingers through yours and moving them around him.

“i’ve been like this for the last twenty minutes,” he supplied casually, then groaned when your fingers instinctively moved around him.

“i’m still mad at you,” you said, but you were already moving your hand because you did also want him inside you. it’d been too long.

he rocked himself into your hand. “yeah – okay. let’s fix that, too, while we fix this.”

he moved to his side, lining himself up between your thighs before fitting himself in between. his fingers slid down your underwear again, fingers grazing over your folds before pressing down on your clit.

his fingers continued circling, while two others slid lower, the hard line of his cock pressing heavy against your ass each time he rocked forward.

“can’t call this a date,” you muttered, even as your breathing picked up.

“no?” he murmured. “this won’t do?” he nodded absentmindedly behind you, then his fingers came up just to slide down your underwear over the curve of your hips and down your thighs until the lace was sitting at your knees.

“two weeks – missed this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and immediately pressed back into you, sliding his cock fully between your thighs now, the head of him dragging through your folds with every roll of his hips.

“also, it is a date – i’m takin’ you – ” he said, angling his hips so his head notched against your entrance. “ – as my date.”

“it’s not.” you pushed your hips back against him.

he tutted softly, hand holding the base of him as he pressed his tip against you, just enough to make you feel the pressure of the stretch starting, then pulled back.

“impatient,” he murmured, doing it again.

“we don’t have time,” you shot back. “just put it in – ”

“yes, ma’am,” he breathed out, amused, and angled himself to sink into you with one slow, sharp push. his entire body went rigid the second he bottomed out, a groan rumbling in his chest as the stretch hit you.

a broken sound came out of your throat before you could swallow it, after two weeks of nothing. your walls instinctively clenched around him, and his grip on your hip went bruising-tight.

“fuck, been so empty haven’t you?” his forehead dropped to your shoulder blade. “sorry, sweetheart. forgot you just needed me like this.”

you tried to glare, albeit at the wall, but your hips pushed back to take the last inch of him. “shut up.”

he just laughed softly, already pulling back to go again. “i know i’ve been thinkin’ about this every night.”

your teeth grit together to hold back the moan, your fingers twisted into the sheets as your body clenched around him on instinct, spine arching even while you fought to stay rigid.

“so mad at me – shit, huh?” his fingers came up with some tremor to your shoulders, pulling you into him even further as he slid in. “just ‘cause you missed this, baby? should’ve asked hours ago instead of arguin’ with me about tonight.”

your hips moved back to bury him to the hilt, causing his palm to tighten on your shoulder with a groan. “no, i missed you,” you said sharply. “you, asshole.”

his breath shuddered, and you felt him nod against your skin. “makin’ such sweet words sound so mean.”

he punctuated his words by moving his hand down to your spine and shoving you forward, forcing your chest flat against the mattress. he followed you down, pinning you completely – chest-to-back, hips locked tight against your ass – prone. his knee nudged yours wider, letting him sink even deeper on the next stroke.

he blew out a sharp, deliberate breath into your ear. “can’t run that mouth so easy when i’ve got you like this, can you?”

“are you trying to shut me – ” you started, words coming out into the pillow.

“huh?” he dipped his head to the side to meet your smushed face, brows rising in amusement. his forearms came up to rest at the curve of the back of your neck. “sayin’ something?”

you twisted just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, still trying to form the argument – something about obligations and dates and missing him so much – but the words stayed half-formed when he pointedly drove in particularly deep and your breath left you in a sharp, broken sound.

he watched your face with a small, smug smile, not slowing.

“yeahhh, that’s what i thought,” he muttered and kept fucking you. his mouth brushed the shell of your ear. “poor thing, can’t even finish a sentence. needed this, huh?”

“i did not – ”

“mhm, lying now, too – ” his forearm flexed, fingers coming out to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face. “thought i was the liar.”

“don’t touch me,” you muttered, turning your face into the pillow again.

“stop squeezing me so tight then,” he said through a rough pant, thrusting up once meanly.

“i’m not kidding – ” you said, firmer now. “it was a – fuck – shit thing for you to do.”

“mhm.”

“i’m not being unreasonable.” you had to grit your teeth together when one of his palm came down to knead the side of your hips. “a date is you and me – your being a shit boyfriend when i haven’t – ”

your words cut off with a sharp gasp as he rolled the two of you in one irritated motion, keeping himself buried as he put you on top. his hands clamped hard on your hips, pushing you down until you were seated fully on his cock.

the sudden shift punched the air from your lungs, and before you could steady yourself, he was already driving up into you.

“jesus, you just can’t let up,” he muttered, eyes locked on where you were taking him. “wanna look at you ride me while you keep running that mouth.”

“getting tired, old man?” you raised a brow.

he shook his head softly, fingers reaching out to rub over your clit.

“old man, shit boyfriend – m’fucking you and letting you argue.” he pressed a harder circle, pausing only to come down on your ass in a sharp slap suddenly, making you gasp. “giving you everything you need at once, and i’m a shit boyfriend.”

he reached out to press his palm flat just below your navel.

“can’t take me on a date – ” you used his chest to pull yourself up, then come down, “ – though.”

his eyes flicked up to your face with a small, strained smirk as his fingers pressed down firmer on your stomach.

“it is a date,” he said, as he drove up hard to meet you on the next downward slide. his other palm flexed on your hip to keep you down as he pushed up even further. “fuckin’ – nice event. you. me. dressed up.” he took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as your nails dug into his chest. “sounds like a damn date to me.”

“it’s work,” you shot back. “you’re just calling it a date so you don’t have to feel bad about cancelling.”

“i didn’t cancel – anything.” his hand came up to push into your hair, pulling your face closer. “i invited you. you want me to leave you home, huh?” his jaw was tight as he tugged your hair back slightly. “things happen. plans change.”

“i don’t want to watch you work, i want to spend time with you,” you managed, surprised by how even your voice came out, considering.

“christ – ” he used the grip on your hair to keep you close, foreheads nearly touching. “actin’ like i signed us up for a week in the desert. it’s dinner. you don’t wanna go?”

he leaned to press your forehead against his. “don’t. imagine alllll the women who’ll try to talk to me, huh?”

“asshole,” you breathed out, nails digging into his shoulders now as you lifted and dropped again. “asshole.”

he snorted through his nose, tugging once on your hair before letting go, leaning back down onto the pillow. “keep ‘em coming, baby. keep punishin’ me for havin’ a job while you’re sittin’ on my cock.”

his hand went to your thigh, spreading on wider so he could push up even deeper.

“you want time with me?” he muttered. “this is time. right now. i’m in you. you’re on me, and you’re still finding ways to be pissed.”

he tilted his chin to catch your lips between his teeth. “you want me to yourself at dinner? i’ll fuck you in the bathroom if you want that, too.”

“this isn’t the same and you know it.”

“isn’t it?” he sat up further, both arms going around your back so your chests were flush. “because from where i’m at, i’ve got my girl riding me, calling me names, and still taking inch like she’s been starving for it. feels pretty damn close to spending time together.”

“principle – ” you tried to say, words cutting off as your hands got distracted to tug at the short hairs at the nape of his neck harshly.

“principle’s pretty shit when i can feel you’re close,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours.

“yeahhh,” he breathed out, feeling you clench on him as your thighs started to shake. “we’ve got ten minutes and if you wanna finish this fight, you finish it on my cock.”

“won’t make it better,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to push through the building pressure – chasing it, pushing it away. “you still – jack – made this whole thing about you – ”

your sentence broke off into a sharp, helpless moan as the orgasm crashed into you. jack didn’t let up, if anything he held you down tighter, hips rutting up against you as you came.

his eyes were trained to your face, pupils thoroughly darkened. “aw, i’m sorry,” he cooed, fingers coming up to brush the hair off your face. “you were in the middle of tellin’ me off. don’t let me interrupt you.”

you opened your mouth to keep going, voice still shaky, and jack’s arms slid up your back to pull you down flush against his chest, crushing you into him so your face was buried in his chest.

“please finish what you were saying,” he muttered against your ear, one forearm caging you in. he let out a soft snort when you only whimpered, then added, “i’ll help. you were saying i was making this whole thing about myself.”

“you always – always do this. make everything about you and then act like i’m being difficult,” you – well, lied.

jack groaned low at your words, only spurred on even more.

“i do? y’really think so?” he mused, almost conversationally. his hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit and pressing there, holding the pressure while driving up in one-timed strokes that made you gasp. “i make everything about me?”

“you do – ” you started, but the words dissolved when he pressed his palm flat against your lower belly, the pressure from both angles sudden and overwhelming, making everything tighten impossibly.

you groaned into his neck, and he tilted his face to the side to press his lips along your hairline.

“yeahhh, clearly i do.” he pressed a kiss to your ear, almost tender. “it’ll make me feel better to know you’re sittin’ all mad throughout the dinner you don’t wanna go to filled with me.”

[heydorothrry]

obsession

summary: you finally reunite with your stalker after his stint in prison and find a way to show him how much you've missed him and to thank him for all he does for you. in which andrew 'pope' cody realises you're as obsessed as he is.

warnings/tags: andrew 'pope' cody x reader, reader is crazy for pope, stalker!pope, two horny freaks in love, reader is afab and goes by she/her pronouns, he falls first and she falls harder, no direct mention of age gap, smut (handjob, blowjob, oral, m!receiving, hints at premature ejaculation, references to masturbation), NSFW 18+ MDNI

notes: this is my first pope fic (i love him) and i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it! my requests will be open when i figure out how this works!

word count: 2.3k

You had an ugly patch of sunburnt skin peeling on your back, the flesh was pink and vulnerable and if you pressed your fingers into it they might have disappeared. The same way that insects sink into sap. It was the first thing he noticed. The peel was shaped like Antarctica, lying flat against the curve of your spine. He watched as it moved, muscles acting as tectonic plates as you twisted and crouched. You needed to apply some after-sun, lather the irritated area in aloe vera until it was all you could smell. He’d do that for you, he’d decided, he’d meticulously treat the area with a precision only he would have.

It took a lot of effort to pull his eyes away from your gnarly sun-scorched skin, the bluntness of it didn’t belong on such a figure. Not when the scuba-like bikini cut tightly into your hips and ribcage, pushing your cleavage into the perfectly symmetrical placement. He liked that, no skewed proportions, just the natural perfection of the human body right in front of his eyes.

He had the most accommodating view from where he was sitting on the beach.

A perfect shot of where you were teaching a group of your girlfriends how to surf before they braved the waves. He caught every wide smile and muffled giggle when one of them toppled onto the sand. He hadn’t meant to stare this long. Especially when his presence caught the attention of your bright eyes and you gave him a nod of recognition before guiding your friends down to the shore.

He stayed on the beach, unblinking and unmoving as you cut through the waves and laughed hysterically when one of your Hollywood friends tried to replicate it. Pope told himself he didn't want to watch you. He knew it could get him in trouble, that you could call the police at any point and get him arrested. That was what added thrill to his compulsion.

It had been the same before he went to Folsom Prison, when you'd lock eyes with him as you climbed into your car before work, the knowing glance you'd take around your beachside apartment when the glass you'd left on the side was freshly washed and put back where you got it.

Andrew felt compelled to watch you, ever since you'd handed him one of your beers at a beach party he'd rather not have been at. One simple act of kindness and you had him following you home like a guard dog. It had taken a few weeks to realise there was someone watching your every move.

Suddenly idiots that harassed you for your number every time you went to the local bar wouldn't look you in the eye. Nor would they look Andrew 'Pope' Cody's way, the scary eldest son who had bruised knuckles to match swollen faces. And the worst part was, you let him.

You let him beat random men to a pulp 'in your honour' because it made you feel something. Protected. Wanted. Scared. You didn't know. You let him into your apartment, purposefully not locking the door or sometimes doing so just to test him, and he'd clean... A lot.

Then one day it just stopped. He stopped filling your car up with gas. He stopped watching you change after a long day at work. The glass of water and headache tablets waiting for you on your bedside table when you got in from a night of partying suddenly weren't there either.

"Deran?" You'd asked one night at a beach kegger, friends forgotten as you went in search for answers,

"Where's your brother? The silent, brooding one that keeps to himself."

"Pope?" He drunkenly laughed for a second before his face dropped into his usual frown,

"He umm, he left town for a while."

It took you exactly twenty-seven hours to figure out what Andrew Cody leaving town actually meant. Prison. You'd lived in Oceanside long enough to know the Codys weren't as straight-laced as they made out to be, that Craig's copious amount of coke didn't come out of thin air and that Pope was only so generous with you because he could afford to be.

And then you started missing him, the man who unapologetically stalked you because he liked the look you gave him over a bottle of beer. Finding where he was being kept wasn't difficult, Folsom Prison was notorious, maximum-security and the only place capable of containing a man like Andrew.

That coupled with having access to the internet was dangerous after a few too many wines, an empty bottle lying on the ground reminding you that Andrew wasn't going to chastise you for it. Folsom's website was simple, plain, but in the top right hand corner you found what you were looking for, 'contacting inmates'.

Sending a letter to Andrew was surprisingly easy considering how strict the prison system was, and it had you ashamed that you hadn't thought of it earlier. You didn't know how he was coping, if he was being looked out for in the way he deserved after all he'd done for you. Without meaning to, without ever speaking to him, Andrew had become someone you cared for.

And the same went for him, imagine his surprise when he received his first letter in prison from his 'girlfriend' and it was you. It gave him a spark, a reason to be feared, don't mess with Cody he's got a girl waiting for him.

Then it became a full-time hobby, sending him pages of writing about what you'd been doing and who you'd been spending time with. You knew he'd be keeping track if he could, he told you so in the little scraps of paper he sent in response to your essays.

You started sending photographs around the time he hit the twelve-month mark, rewarding him for his good behaviour and the added 'I think about you' at the bottom of one of his notes. For Valentine's you sent him six scandalous photos, ones that you hoped would tide him over until he was out and could start peeping on you getting changed again.

Andrew's fascination with you was borderline obsession by the time he was released. Each photo, each handwritten letter had facilitated his behaviour, behaviour he knew to be wrong. You'd fed his compulsion to stalk you, to watch from the shadows and even though he'd spent nearly three years away from you, it hadn't felt like a second.

It took him a while to come to terms with the fact that you liked it.

But now here you were, within touching distance now that he was a free man and you were leaving the beach you'd written so much about in your letters. He watched with curious eyes as you waved goodbye to the terrible surfers who you called 'friends' and started walking towards your beachside apartment.

He tailed you there, no longer subtle after all the time he'd wasted not being near you, and you didn't look back because you knew that he'd be twenty paces behind you as he always had been.

You truly had missed it, missed him, the invincible feeling that crept over your skin when you knew Andrew was nearby. He was like a Bat-Signal, warning all nearby perpetrators that you were his for the taking.

He'd missed your apartment too, having spent many a night both inside and outside of it, memories of watching you change, watching you sleep, flooding back to him. Some of his best nights had happened here and now you were practically leaving a petal trail to your bedroom by keeping the front door wide open.

It smelt the same, coconut, oud and amber coming from the line of reed diffusers and candles you had scattered around the place. You had lemon cleaning products in the kitchen, seashells pinned to the pale blue walls, that same 'welcome' sign you'd stolen when you were fifteen. Pope felt like he'd gone back in time, as though Folsom had never happened, to when you were still playing cat and mouse.

That thought evaporated though when he caught sight of you, knelt in your bedroom waiting for him to step through the doorway,

"I've missed you, Andrew, I was going to wait six years and now you're here because of overcrowding, it's funny how things work."

Andrew was half convinced you were the reason Folsom was struggling to accommodate all the inmates with the way that you'd said it.

"Have you missed me too?" You asked, looking up at him from your position on the floor.

Andrew nodded shyly, voice quiet as he addressed you,

"You know I have."

"Let me make up for lost time Andy. Please? I'll show you what you've been missing. You'll never need to leave again, I'll look after you."

As you begged on your knees at the altar that was Andrew Cody, your hands rose upwards to his belt, hesitantly fiddling with the bronze buckle to give him time to push you away. The last thing you wanted was to spook him, everyone treated him like a mutt but to you he was a stray waiting for a warm embrace.

"I've thought about this." You admitted, pressing your thighs together as the belt you were tugging free smacked against the loops of his jeans,

"Dreamt of how you might taste."

Andy was on the verge of cardiac arrest, your whispers of truth validating every dirty thought he'd ever conjured up, every sinful act he'd committed. The riffling through your panty drawer, the masturbating to your photographs, palming himself as he watched you shower through your bathroom window.

"Can I have a taste Andy?" You smiled innocently as if you'd asked him for a spoonful of his dinner.

"Yes," He shuddered when you started dragging his jeans and boxers down his legs, your nails smoothing against his skin,

"But I- I don't know if I can... I haven't been touched in so long."

With a pout, you freed his dick from its confines, licking your lips at the sight,

"It's ok, we have all the time in the world for everything else."

Pope nodded along, not really sure what you were talking about but agreeing anyway. He'd do anything for you, he'd decided that three years ago and stood here now, he was understanding that you'd do the same for him.

He honest-to-God whimpered when you took ahold of him at the base of his cock, kissing the flushed tip as he twitched in your grasp. He wasn't fully hard yet, but the blood was rushing there the more and more you coaxed the ring of your fingers up and down.

You knew he was lost to the world when he started spurting precum, arms rigid at his sides because he didn't know how to touch you. He'd spent so much time thinking about it that he'd neglected the technicalities.

Taking him into your mouth, you thanked the universe for making Andrew loud. Running your tongue over the veins elicited a groan, swallowing around his length pulled a guttural moan, smacking off with a pop earned a shudder of a squeak.

He found the bobbing of your head hypnotic, too important to risk blinking. He didn't realise that the repetitive motion was evoking your primal urge to be fucked. More than swept up in finally being on the receiving end of something he'd seen you doing to a random guy from the bar three years ago.

"I'm not gonna last long." He gasped when you gurgled around the base of his cock, so committed to deepthroating him that tears were welling in your eyes. You didn't stop though, continuing to spread the mixture of your spit and his own slick along his desperate-to-cum cock.

"I'm not kidding, I'm gonna cum."

Andrew spluttered above you, arms still glued to his sides when his stomach clenched beneath his button-up shirt. You were dying to see him naked but you knew it had to wait, he wasn't ready for that, but you were ready for his sweet release as you pulled back slightly with his tip resting on your eagerly awaiting tongue.

He finished quickly and pathetically, ropes of cum painting the inside of your mouth and dribbling slightly down your chin. His eyes were scrunched painfully shut even as you swallowed and tucked his softening length into his underwear.

"I'm sorry." He grunted, face red as he opened his eyes to stare at you,

"I didn't mean for it to be over that quick. I don't usually finish that quickly. It's just-"

"Been a while?" You finished for him and smiled softly when he nodded,

"It's ok Andrew, I've waited three years, I can wait a little longer to be intimate if you don't want to."

"Who says I don't want to?" He smirked as he helped you stand now that he'd pulled up his jeans,

"I do."

You spun on your feet, his eyes darting to your prettily painted toes that had a ring around one of them, he didn’t like that - it needed to be on both feet.

You retrieved a small box from under your bed, exposing the sunburn he'd noticed earlier, practically gloating in his face from under your cover up.

“You need some cream on that nasty burn of yours.”

You slowly turned back towards him, eyes glinting mischievously as you passed the ribboned box over,

“Well I can’t reach it now, can I? You'll have to help me out.”

To busy his hands and distract himself from the blush he knew was raging over his cheeks, he unfastened the ribbon and tugged the lid up off the box to reveal a simple silver key.

"Now that we've actually spoken," You giggled,

"I thought you might like a way to come home without breaking in, it's a key for my - our - apartment."

That's when it finally clicked in Andrew's head. You were just as fucked up as he was.

[kryptoclark]

god… just imagining his old ass sending you, his sweet younger girlfriend, selfies when he has a free moment because he knows you miss him when he’s gone long hours (night shift + a SWAT call)

you always coo out sweet responses (texts or voice memos because you can’t help yourself), calling him handsome and telling him how much you miss him n can’t wait to see him <333 not to mention when you’d refer to him as your man and send photos of your own, doing your own daily living things.

at first he’s unused to how much you’re enamored with him, because… well, look at him? he’s pushing fifty, no longer has natural brown roots, there’s more wrinkles on his face than smooth skin, he’s scattered with age spots that you call his ‘freckles’ and he doesn’t have the heart to remind you he wasn’t born with half of them. but you just openly adore every inch of him.

in his presence, you kiss every freckle, every wrinkle, every spot you can reach, all while showering him in the most compliments. you probably make him feel the most secure in a relationship he’s been in in a long time. no, not secure. cherished.

“baby, you’ll give me a big head with all this attention,” he murmurs on one of his nights off. he’s lounging on his couch, one arm resting against the headrest and the other wrapped loosely around your waist.

you’re straddling his lap, hands buried in his graying locks and lips peppering loving kisses along salt and pepper stubble, nosing the area occasionally. you giggle against his skin, pressing a kiss to his cheek before answering, “good. you deserve it.”

you’re his sweet little girlfriend who adores every inch of him, kissing him any chance you get, having your hands on him in one way or another (interlacing your hands at the grocery store, linking arms while walking, you name it. you’re on him.)

he loves it.

he’s just as obsessed with you, too. he watches with rapt attention when you apply your skincare and makeup, especially your gloss which shines against whatever light hits them. he has to resist not kissing the sweet stickiness off your lips every time. sometimes he fails, earning a giggle and whine from you that you’ll have to reapply it.

“honey, i think i’m way past the age of saving my wrinkles,” he murmurs, amused as you spread a moisturizing cream all over his face, gently massaging the product into his skin.

“oh, hush and let me do my thing,” you huff, one side of your mouth tugging up but you remain concentrated.

“yes, ma’am.” he grins.

he loves seeing you get all dolled up for him when you’re going on a date.

his brows raise as you smooth out nonexistent creases of a pretty little dress you got that hugs your figure in a way he thinks should be illegal. it makes him wonder how on earth he managed to snag a pretty thing like you, getting all dressed up for his old ass. hell, he’s old enough to be your father. 

you have no business dating anyone but in your age range and here you are, with him. he advised you against it when you first batted those pretty lashes and complimented him at the bar you frequented so often with your friends. but you stood strong, making your interest loud and clear. and who was he to deny a pretty girl he’d been eyeing all night?

“my baby gets dressed so pretty f’me,” he murmurs lowly, hands landing on your waist from behind as you look at yourself in the mirror, leaning down to kiss the juncture of your neck. “‘m a lucky man.”

you smile in the reflection, leaning back in his embrace. “mmm, maybe you’ll get luckier later,” you respond cheekily.

and boy, does he. he doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve you, let alone how you pleasure him.

“am i being good for you, jackie?” you pant from above him, thighs trembling around his hips as you bounce atop his thick cock. you mewl every time his head pressed against your cervix.

“so, so good, baby,” he grunts between clenched teeth, hands clutching your hips so tight and guiding your movements, you won’t be surprised if there are handprints tomorrow. “my sweet girl rides me so well.”

your walls flutter around his pulsing cock from his words alone, moaning in delight. you can feel the ridges of his veins every time you sink down atop him.

“is it good, baby? my cock making you feel good?” he asks. because sometimes he has to. he needs to know he’s making you feel as good as you make him. you give no indication that it’s anything but, but he still yearns to hear it from your lips.

and because you’re an ever-loving girlfriend, you of course let him know. “mhm! mhm, s’good, jackie!” you mewl, head thrown back as you ride atop him. “y’fill me up so good! feel you in my tummy!” your thighs start to burn but it doesn’t seem to deter you.

he groans at your words, balls tightening as he feels his orgasm fast approaching. sweat rolls down his temples and he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “‘m about to cum, sweet girl,” he warns you with a grunt. “you close, too?

you nod frantically with a broken moan, your muscles aching and jack can tell, rutting his hips upwards to aid in your faltering pace.

“let go, baby, i’ve got you,” he murmurs lowly, gripping the fat of your ass tightly as he lifts you and bounces you on his cock repeatedly. “need you t’a finish for me. let me feel it.”

you nod again, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. with a final thrust, your pussy clenched around his cock like a vice and your vision goes white. you fall over the edge with a shrill moan of his name.

jack soon follows (how could he not when your pussy is squeezing him so tight like that?), spilling hot ropes of gum into your waiting walls, groaning softly as his balls twitch. he feels your body trembling above him and he’s quick to catch you as you collapse onto him.

“atta girl, sweetie. y’did so good,” he praises in your ear, one calloused had rubbing you back affectionately while the other runs through your hair.

“you, too. you make me feel so loved,” you murmur softly against his neck, sniffing his natural musk which provided you a semblance of comfort as you come down from the high of your orgasm. “love you, jack,” is the last thing you slur before you inevitably fall asleep from blissful exhaustion.

[heydorothrry]

Welcome to @heydorothrry's Masterlist!

SHAWN HATOSY

Jack Abbot - pretty in pink

Andrew 'Pope' Cody - obsession

Sammy Bryant -

Brett Richards -

Titus Danforth -

[heydorothrry]

pretty in pink

summary: after jack abbot's therapist prescribes him a visit to the stripclub, he finds himself pleasantly surprised when a stripper by the name 'Baby' gets his lidido ticking again. little does he know you're desperate to make your last shift at the club a memorable one.

warnings/tags: jack abbot x reader, stripper!reader, insecure jack, mentions of prosthetic limb, calls reader ‘baby’, reader is afab and goes by she/her pronouns, he falls first and hardest, age gap (25/50), smut (fingering, cunnilingus, dom!jack, doggystyle, dumbifaction, piv-unprotected sex, creampie), NSFW 18+ MDNI

notes: hi everyone, this is my first tumblr fic so i'm not sure if i've done everything right, please just let me know if not. i really hope you enjoy! my requests will be open when i figure out how this works!

word count: 3.8k

Jack was never particularly fond of pink. Sure, he had a pair of fuchsia swimming trunks tucked away in his drawer at home but that was as far as it went. He didn’t have peony bed linen or a bar of rose coloured soap, and now every time he shut his eyes he saw flashes of baby pink mesh dancing behind his eyelids.

It wasn't meant to have got this far, it was supposed to be a one and done kind of thing. A therapist-prescribed trip to a strip club to feel more comfortable around naked women before he dove headfirst into intimacy with one of the dates his coworkers were trying to set him up on. A simple night where he spent a few bills and tried to get his libido ticking after such a long stint of celibacy.

“Just try it Jack, see it as a way to blow off some steam without getting shot at. You can leave, if it’s not for you, but I think you’ll find it a stepping stone for pursuing a potential relationship in the future. Humour me,” his therapist had asked. Humour him, and now Jack was sitting in a plush armchair off to the side, supping bourbon and watching as a pretty woman in a studded bra and thong worked her way around the pole on center stage.

He’d already been up to the stage and tossed her a few bills, impressed by her ability to glide through the air so effortlessly.

“Would you like a dance Sir?” A sweet voice to his right hummed, causing him to shift slightly to get a look at the woman in front of him.

All night Jack had been nitpicking at the things that didn’t turn him on, he didn’t think he’d be the pole dancer’s type, one dancer was too scared to make eye contact with him, none of them looked like his wife.

Then there you were, with your white nails touching the arm of his chair, looking so soft and angelic against the dark interior of the club. You were in nothing more than a pretty baby pink chemise. A fluffy bra with a mesh babydoll slip billowing over your soft stomach. The underwear was tiny - and pink - but your garter belt connected to white stirrup stockings that Jack’s eyes seemed to snag on.

You looked a little like a fembot from Austin Powers but if anything that just added to your playful nature you were bathing him in.

“It’s ok if not. Bella’s a really talented dancer, I try and watch her as much as I can too.” You offered, leaning back slightly thinking you’d misjudged this potential customer. After all, he had been watching Bella on stage who had the complete opposite look to you with her leather, spikes and femme fatale makeup.

Jack’s gaze finally pulled away from your legs to meet your doe eyes that were perpetually glossy, and blinking at him expectantly.

“How much for a dance?” He found himself asking before his mind even processed what had spilled from his lips. You liked him immediately, from his hesitance to his undeniable attractiveness, he dressed in nice pants and wore polished shoes, and his salt and pepper curls flowed perfectly from his scalp. He was the type of man who didn’t need to prove anything because his demeanour already said it for him.

“$50.” You told him unapologetically, pretty things come at a pretty price and the smirk that crept across his face told you that he knew just that.

He slipped the money into your open hand and looked up at you with dark eyes from below, a kittenish smile still on his lips,

“Do I get to know your name? Or will that cost me another fifty?”

Giggling at him slightly, you tucked the cash into the top of your left stocking, purposefully drawing his eyes there once again. He had this proud look on his face from pulling an airy laugh out of you, it was cute, and dangerous. He was old enough to know exactly why you’d picked him to ask for a dance, the handsome, understated man that kept to himself, over the men jeering every time they saw a flash of tit.

“They call me Baby.” You smiled, beginning to sway your hips to Maneater by Nelly Furtado. The club never really played songs that you liked so this was practically hitting the jackpot, the only time you got any creative freedom was when you were privately hired.

“Baby?” He huffed pleasantly,

“I can’t say it doesn’t suit you.”

“You think?” You asked, spinning on your heels in front of him so he could get a 360° view of you,

“Are you going to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jack, Baby.” He tipped his head to the side in greeting, knowing he couldn’t shake your hand from the strict ‘no touching’ rule plastered across the walls, not that a pretty young thing like you would want to shake hands with him anyways.

“Well Jack, your Baby thinks enjoy what you’ve paid for.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he breathed the entire time you were close to him, whether it was when you spread your ass right in front of him as you folded over or when you were cupping your breasts through the fur cups of your bra. His hands were white knuckling the armchair, veins popping to the surface as he squeezed the last of his restraint.

He hadn’t been hard in months, maybe even close to a year, and now he was twitching in his dress slacks, scared you were going to accidentally prod him when you moved back and seal his fate.

“You’re a handsome man, Jack.” You breathed in his ear, pulling back just enough to give him a clear view of your cleavage and you a clear view of his bewildered puppy dog eyes,

“But you’re so tense.”

Each whisper trickled down his ear like honey, choking him before he managed to get any words out. You were dangling the bait right in front of him now, hoping he’d snap so you could reel him in.

“Haven’t I helped you relax? Haven't I been good enough?”

“No!” He panicked, a sweet, genuine concern on his face as he finally tore his fingers out of the padding of the seat,

“You were great, Baby. You’ve been s’good for me.”

You blushed immediately, turning into putty as he eyed you up and down again, hoping you didn't catch on to his staring. He didn't want to be taken as one of those fools who actually thought he had a chance with the nice stripper, no less one that he knew had to have been half his age.

"You flatter me Jack." You cooed, taking a brave step and gently hooking your finger under his stubbled chin so you could meet his eye,

"Do you think you’d be interested in a private show? One where you don’t have to pay?”

Biting your lip always came as second nature when you had to take charge, you hated it. You craved letting go and becoming pliant under warm, broad hands, to have the fat of your hip pinched and rolled between fingers. You liked to be told what to do and how to do it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't tease and pull a man's strings when it was always so easy to do.

"You offer private dances here?" He asked, looking around the dark floor to see if there were any side doors that you could lead him through.

"No," You hummed, smiling at the split second of confusion that crossed his face,

"But my flat is only a ten minute walk away if you're interested?"

Jack's gulp was so loud you leaned back slightly in fear that he'd hurl all over your pretty outfit. He didn't look panicked or shocked per se, just overwhelmed by the offer laid out in front of him - picturing you laid out in front of him.

"You want to take me back to your flat?"

It wasn't that he was insecure as such, women at work flirted with him like that was their full-time job and not saving lives. He'd had numerous patients slip him their phone number on hospital tissues and even had one drunken woman ask him to marry her. The problem lay with understanding why you would want him. He was much, much older and had crow's feet so deep that they were permanently etched into his skin, he was greying, he didn't have the same stamina he once did and who knows how you'd react to his prosthetic lower limb.

It was just wrong. How a woman as angelic as you could look at him as you were doing in that moment. Jack couldn't see a single shred of doubt in your eyes, just pure need to be alone with him.

He was already nodding softly before the 'ok' left his mouth, mind and body struggling to sync up ever since you'd saddled up beside him. He wouldn't have predicted he'd end up here tonight when he'd slipped his wedding ring off for the first time in years.

It was cold outside, as it always was in the heart of a Pittsburgh winter, so cold that you had a humongous woolen trench coat draped over your shoulders to shield you from the biting breeze nipping at your stocking covered ankles that were peeking out.

You caught Jack looking as you walked, giving you a methodical once over that he seemed to do every so often.

"Are you thinking that I look surprisingly normal?" You asked, the both of you noting how your club attire was easily hidden under your coat.

"Maybe a little." He admitted, letting you lead him down the street,

"I'm not really sure how to conduct myself, I can't say I remember the last time I went home with someone."

"Me neither." You sighed,

"But I thought it's my last shift so I can take some liberties."

"Your last shift?" He paused,

"Ever?"

"Yeah." You smiled,

"Don't get me wrong, I love pole dancing... The stripping not so much, it was just a stepping stone to bigger and better things."

Just as Jack was about to ask what those bigger and better things were, you stopped at the foot of a brownstone looking building, a few stone steps leading to the entrance,

"Are you coming up?"

Your apartment was exactly as Jack imagined it would be. All hazy golden lighting and plush rugs that he bet felt delightful to wriggle your toes through. There were candles covering the sideboards, zebra print cushions, and pink... Pink everywhere.

As he watched you shuck off your coat and place it alongside his on a rack, it all became real. Jack Abbot, lead attending physician of the night shift Emergency Medicine Department at PTMC was about to have a one night stand with the doe-eyed stripper twenty-five years his junior.

"I should tell you," He started as you came towards him, to do what, he wasn't sure,

"I'm an amputee. I won't get into it but I was an Army medic many moons ago now... I just thought i should tell you, you know, in case you-"

"Thank you Jack," You interrupted softly,

"You're obviously a very brave man, it can't be easy for you."

"Well I do nude yoga at sunrise to try to regulate myself after a long night shift, my therapist says it should help with feeling comfortable in my own skin." He flushed, not certain as to why he was being so open about his biggest insecurity in the bedroom. It really had been a while.

You were now chest to chest with him, still in your get-up from the club and running your hands over the buttons of his shirt,

"Well I for one, think that you need to stay the night just so I can see this nude yoga you're telling me about."

Jack's smile was one of joyous disbelief, before he shook his head at you and leaned down to shut you up with a kiss. With any other woman he wouldn't have dared be this ballsy, but you had a way of reassuring him and brushing off his insecurities like they hadn't even crossed your mind. And why would they? When his lips were pressing against your own, tongue gently prodding at the seam just begging to be let in. Kissing Jack was dizzying, from his hands gently pushing your hair back to the soft groans escaping his throat just to be swallowed by your awaiting mouth.

It was wet, and a little sloppy from both sides, but as soon as he was pushing you back towards the open door of your bedroom, your restraint snapped.

"Jack." You moaned delightfully, as your head dropped back in euphoria at the lazy tonguing he was doing up and down your throat,

"Please, just-"

"Just what?" He whispered, still holding your head in place with both hands as he lapped at your skin, keeping you limp as you stood at the foot of your bed,

"You got what you wanted by bringing me back here, so I think it's time I got what I wanted."

His lips unlatched from your aching neck, allowing you enough space to mindlessly nod your head at his words.

"You lost your tongue Baby?" He mocked, his own tongue darting across his teeth as you blinked at him, trying to formulate a thought but then proving his point by remaining absolutely silent.

Jack was hungry now, a dark look had overcome his features and his biceps were tensing as he held your head straight. He was going to devour you. The navy blue shirt he'd been wearing all night was straining over his puffed out chest and you could see his freckled forearms from where the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You wanted to chomp down on him like an apple.

He was only thing worth sinking your teeth into in all of Pittsburgh and you were certain of it.

"I want you to do something for me." He hummed, blown out pupils flicking down your form,

"Strip."

You were looking at Jack with so much awe, as though he'd hung the stars, like he was the only man in a ten mile radius capable of giving you a blinding orgasm.

Jack dipped down again, ghosting the shell of your pierced ear with his lips,

"One last time, and then no one else will ask you ever again."

The breath lodged in your throat felt like a stone when he lightly nibbled your earlobe, mind swimming with only his name... Jack.

With a soft push, you sent Jack backwards into a chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, smiling at the cheeky look on his face when he pulled a discarded bra from under his leg.

"You keep a pole in your flat?" He asked, gesturing with the lace still in your hand to the shiny metal behind your back,

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

"Don't push your luck Jack, you're already getting a free show."

And with that your hands slipped behind your back, nimble fingers unhooking your babydoll with practiced ease. You didn't make a show of it, this wasn't the club, and Jack wasn't any old customer, or so you kept telling yourself.

With Jack's eyes locked on yours you dropped the material to the floor, exposing your chest to the scrutiny of the man in front of you. He didn't give much away, no change in expression just a slight tense of his jaw,

"Your underwear as well," he gruffed.

You had to unclip your stockings to do so, letting the tassels dangle against your thighs as you shimmied the silken underwear down your hips. His gaze was hot, you could feel it scorchingly tracing over your legs as you stepped out of them. Then reclipping your garters, you tilted your head at him innocently,

"Like this?"

Jack was straining against his trousers unashamedly now, the shy veteran he saw himself as had completely left his mind as he started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He maintained eye contact the entire time, like he could sense it was making you slicker between your thighs.

When he shrugged it off completely you didn't know how to take it all in. He practically reloaded his arms like a shotgun, muscles flexing underneath smooth freckled skin. He was overwhelmingly big, and you would've wanted your legs over his shoulders ten minutes ago if you'd knew what he was hiding under that expensive cotton.

"Lay down at the edge of the bed."

"No magic word Jackie?" You teased, not missing the flicker of amusement that skated over his face.

"Please, Baby."

Jack still hadn't asked for your name, not that either of you truly minded. Revealing that would make it real, that would start the countdown.

You did as he asked, letting him walk you back to the bed, letting your hair fan out underneath you as he got to his knees.

Jack's slightly cold hands pushed your knees apart gently, letting his frame slot between your thighs. You tried to get a look at him, the inevitably gorgeous sight of him close to your centre, but he didn't let you, hand snaking up your abdomen to push you back down. Fingers sat between your breasts but not giving you what you wanted,

"Lay back down and enjoy it Baby, you think you can do that f'me?"

"Yes." You squeaked, flopping back onto the bed excitedly when you felt his breath on your clit. His tongue was strong, quickly slotting into your core like he knew how you ticked. And he did, making you gasp when he started circling your clit and pinching your nipples at the same time. You couldn't help but writhe around on your mattress, arching into his mouth to feel more of everything he was doing, to feel him deeper, and Jack didn't complain. He accommodated every twitch of your hips and push against his shoulders, not even uttering a grunt of annoyance when you yanked on his fading curls when he slid a finger into you.

"Jack I- I- you feel so good." You gasped, breath catching on an unadulterated moan. He kept at it, just nodding slightly to signal he'd heard you as he continued to work arousal out of you with his tongue and fingers.

"I'm gonna cum, Jack." You warned, stomach seizing when he prodded your entrance with a second and third finger at once, and then you moaned in faux-pain when he pulled away from you with one final suck.

Your disgruntled face popped up to look at him as he stood to his full height, towering over you with your slick dripping from his lips and down his chin. It was perplexing how unbothered he was as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"Flip over. Get on your hands and knees, I'll give you what you want."

With nervous anticipation you did as he said, hypnotised by the edge to his voice. Jack was making it clear, he was finally taking charge and you couldn't have been more thankful for it. This is what you'd been craving ever since you saw him drinking the most expensive bourbon in the club, looking more out of place than a nun would.

It was tempting to look over your shoulder when you heard the rustle of his slacks, but you were tired of the teasing and needed to be fucked before you got yourself tied up for causing trouble.

"I hate to ask," Jack paused just as he brushed against your backside,

"But are you clean?"

"Yes Jack, I promise, please."

For an attending doctor, he didn't need much convincing and with a steady push of his hips you full. It winded you, expelling all the air from your lungs as you keened forwards up the bed, only to be tugged back onto his length by two strong hands.

He revelled in the way your head dropped forwards when he started guiding himself in and out of you, watching as you swallowed him greedily. The expanse of your back stretched out as you lowered yourself from your palms to your elbows, cat-like in your movements.

"Fuck Baby. You need to stop making those noises or I'm not gonna last. I'm an old man you know?"

You hadn't even noticed. First it was a gasp and then it was little pants every time you were full to the hilt of his thick cock. Jack was splitting you open from the inside out and you couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"I'm sorry." You preened,

"I'll be good."

"I know Baby, I know."

Then he reached forward and looped his arm around your neck, drawing you back so you were caught between the hard plains of his chest and his thick, bulging bicep.

He didn't stop fucking you even for a second, focused on contorting you in a way that delivered maximum pleasure. It was working too, your eyes had lost focus and when Jack whispered a questioning 'hmm' you had no idea what it was in relation to.

"Fuck, look at you." He groaned, gently biting on the muscle of your shoulder to quieten his grunt,

"Can't even answer me. Have I fucked you dumb baby? Is this what you needed, old Jack taking care of you?"

You answered with a high-pitched moan and a chanted mantra of the words every self respecting man wants to hear,

"I'm gonna cum. Jack, I'm gonna-"

And then you cried out, body shaking in his grasp as you orgasmed, twitching both away from and backwards onto his cock that didn't stop filling you.

Jack let you collapse forward onto the sheets, following you down as he chased his own release.

"Just a little longer Baby, I'm almost there."

You didn't exactly protest, too blissed out by the dragging of his length through your fluttering cunt. His desperate thrusts were elongating your climax, keeping the waves crashing over and over again.

Shame had long been forgotten as Jack moaned into your bedroom, face scrunching as he came inside you. Fingertips leaving quickly fading marks in your shoulders as he gripped onto his last piece of reality in a night that had felt like a dream.

When Jack slipped out the following morning without saying goodbye, he didn't know his memories of 'Baby' would haunt him from that point onward. The pretty, ex-stripper obsessed with pink and making him crack a smile. He sat there pining in the locker room of his very adult job, with his many years of experience. He had no idea that you'd slipped the same $50 that he'd paid you for a lap dance into his wallet with your number on the edge of one of the notes.

[fangirl-dot-com]

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

Good Boy

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took the chair. “Feet.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You big doaf,” you teased. “Go on.” 

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

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

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

“What’s his name?” 

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

“Cardinal,” you managed to sputter out. 

Definitely not attractive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cody!” the guard barked. “In line.” 

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

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

Your brows pinched tightly. “Do what?” 

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

A warning grumble reverberated from Cardinal just as you scoffed. 

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

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

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi again,” you said gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said he did bite work?” 

“What?” you asked. 

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

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

“Helpful?” he echoed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s okay,” he murmured. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

“Just him?” 

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

A rosyness bloomed across Andrew’s face. 

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

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine. 

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

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed. 

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

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

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

You cocked an eyebrow. “For how long?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he whined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M sorry,” he whimpered. 

“Do you want to be a good boy?” 

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

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

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

“. . . wanna be your good boy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed thickly, and his head bobbed. 

You gave him a sharp sht. “Speak.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Stay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-your good boy,” he stuttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andrew tilted his head slightly. “For what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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