Hey, my friends call me Vitchy, you may know me as Low0tter too...✨BUT✨ If u think u know me from somewhere...no...no you don't... | i'm 22 yo!16th of December | 🇧🇷 | i want to be a actress 🎥🍿🎞️ |
he apologizes profusely because he knows he’s big.
he knows he has to gradually work you up but when he’s fucking you, it never truly prepares you for his size. even after the nth time, the stretch never seizes to amaze you.
his heavy hips unable to mask the weight behind them everytime he thrusts, watching your beautiful, precious face contort in pleasure. the groans that escape him let you know that he’s falling apart. it’s music to your ears while the sound of skin on skin and sticky wet slick is music to his. his warm calloused palm kneading your breasts before moving to your hips, right as he works himself in deeper.
tip kissing your cervix tastefully slow and deep til you felt him in your throat. he’s girthy and incredibly soft spoken, the killer combination that would make you let him do anything he wanted. he’s thanking you for letting him have you like this. panting in true effort while he murmurs profanities about how tight you feel.
the peak hits just as hard, crashing over both of you til you’re clamping down on him. enough for him to sputter in contentment and lose all semblance of himself.
punctuating his grinds with whimpers of your name while he paints you deep and white like it’s your wedding. so much that it leaks around him. his eyes wet with need and desire as he desperately pants, lifting his head to stare at where you connected, watching it gush down your thighs. you think he’s done, you’re bloated with him now but he’s still pulsing, veins throbbing as they continue to rub against your walls.
finally he stills, dropping his head in the crook of your neck, whispering thank you while he sniffles.
was he crying?
you don’t get to rationalize it because he’s apologizing all over again when he resumes rolling his hips into yours, swallowing your cries of overstimulation. pushing down on your lower stomach while he sticks his tongue down your throat and sloppily laps at your lips, leaving your skin wet. his fingers growing more confident by pulling you back into him while he works you. pulling out just to gather everything leaking and rut back into you again.
“gotta keep you full, hah, please? swear it’s the last one.”
Helloooo how about pope who has suddenly been ditching his brothers and leaving jobs immediately after. They don’t know what’s gotten into him so they go to his apartment to check on him. Only they stumble upon you and pope going at it and it all makes sense
Pope just ditching his brothers just to be around his girl is so real actually anon and i bet sometimes he doesn't even go on the jobs, especially any weak-ass easy-peasy job that Pope thinks they definitely don't need 5 people for. Why the fuck would his brothers bother him when he's told them he's busy?
Sure he didn't specify he was busy with *you* but you'd think they'd get the memo eventually, especially after the one time he let them off the heist van and immediately put the thing in reverse. "I got a thing. You'll figure it out." is all he's saying before zooming off to your place.
He'll leave right after jobs and won't stay at family events longer than an hour tops, full of nervous energy to see you. Pope's a sweet puppy in love, all of his attention focused on you.
Besides, basking in your presence, or especially basking in you is a much better way to spend his time.
Baz or poor Deran being tasked down with tracking Pope down and seeing what the hell he's doing bc Smurf is worried he's talking to the feds, following him to his apartment by the sea-side, posting up by a window to peek in...
Only to be met by the back of Pope's head laid against the back of his couch and some pretty young thing, you flushed and eager and ass naked, bunny hopping in his lap like your life depended on it, your tits bouncing in Andy's face, one of his big hands roughly squeezing your breast and the other posted on your tip.
The unfortunate soul sitting there hearing your high pitched mewls and whines coupled with the distinctive plapplapplap of Pope's thighs fucking up into yours and his rough grunts and groans. "Andy- Ohh right there Andy! go -fuck- go harder!" and "Yeah? Y'like that? This's my pretty pussy-"
Pope's younger siblings really didn't need to know that he whimpers while making out or how he sounds when cumming, especially how his voice pitches up and he gets all teary while he babbles to you that he's gonna cum.
Maybe if they actually minded their business for once they wouldn't have to be traumatized by the sight of Pope's naked ass getting up from the couch and carrying you to the bathroom, cum dribbling down your thighs, to clean you up. Better luck next time? 🤷♀️
everyone on replies is terrified of this fact but i just think it's so sweet and heartwarming. she's holding our hand and leading us somewhere secret and we're both giggling like kids. i love her
pope cody who hates baz’s stupid and complicated espresso machine. he just wants coffee. but as soon as you start staying over he teaches himself to make cappuccinos, practicing pulling the shots and frothing the milk dozens of times so he can wake his girl up with her favorite drink.
of course, you’ve never brought it up, always happily sipping on your cup of regular coffee whenever you’re at the cody residence in the morning. so when pope wakes you up on a random tuesday with a perfect, frothy cappuccino, dusted with cinnamon just how you like you can’t help but set the hot mug down on the bedside table and pull him into a long, sleepy kiss, smiling into him as your heart flutters.
he’s anxious for you to try it, watching your face closely as you bring the cup up to your lips, your eyes locked on his over the rim of the mug. he feels his chest loosen when you let out a low moan, closing your eyes at the rich, creamy taste.
“good?” he says, fingers twisting into the duvet where its rest on your thighs.
“mm,” you hum, pulling back from the cup, a little white mustache of foam on your upper lip, “sooo good, my love.” and he just beams, leaning forward kissing the frothy milk from your lips.
summary: you're J's best friend but you hate his grandma and uncles. you hate going around to their place. but when pope takes you up on the offer to go surfing you realise that maybe he isn't as scary as you thought
content/warnings: NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY! age gap, smurf, unprotected sex, light stalking (it's pope ofc), oral sex (f & m receiving), hidden relationship, light mention of ass play, no use of y/n
wc: 5k
notes: I'm only on season 2 of Animal Kingdom, so apologies for the ooc of it all. pics used just for aesthetic purpose, not a reflection of what the reader looks like.
You hate going over to J's grandmother's house. When he first moved in after his mother died, your parents had banned you from going over there. He was your best friend, so he was more than welcome to hang out at yours after school. But your parents made you promise that you weren't to go over there. And you didn't argue with them. They didn't know you had already been. His uncles creeped you out. They got too close, got too touchy or got too, well, stare-y.
But when you left school and moved out to your own place by the beach, your parents couldn't tell you what to do. And J wanted you to come over - especially to the pool. You argued you could swim in the sea anytime you wanted. But Nicky was always over there as well and you couldn't leave her with those stupid boys. You didn't trust them. And you didn't trust his grandmother.
"How did you get two?" Craig always teases J when both you and Nicky are around.
You always make the same fuckin' face of disgust. You've known J since you two were in kindergarten. You couldn't imagine him as anything more than a brother. He spent a lot of time at yours when his mother was strung out.
You hate spending time at the Codys', but J is your best friend, and you'll do anything for him. Because you worry about him.
One morning you arrive at the house, hoping to catch J early so you two can go surfing. But the place is unusually quiet, and you are greeted not by your friend or his grandmother (thankfully), but by Andrew Cody. They all call him Pope.
Pope has been watching you since you first arrived at the house. He watches how you flinch at the loud noises, how you recoil from his brother's touches. Unlike his nephew's girlfriend, you don't giggle with Smurf. You get in and get out. But he likes watching you. He likes that you sometimes go and sit in J's (his) room when things get too noisy. That you just want to be away from it all.
You're far too sweet to be around him or his family. But he'd like to corrupt you.
"He's not here," he says simply as way of greeting as he stands in the doorway.
"Well do you want the coffee I got for him?" you ask as you hold up the cups you're holding. "I don't know what typa coffee you like but I don't want it t' go t' waste."
Pope's eyes soften immediately, "Do you need money?"
In the last few years, J has started saying shit like that to you. And you don't like it. You're putting yourself through college. You're working in a shitty bar. You don't wanna be like your mother. She never went to college, married your dad right away outta high school. She relied on him for everything. And while you weren't dating and would never date J, you didn't want to rely on him.
"No. I got money. But I don't wanna waste it," you respond before sighing. "Look. If J comes back tell him there's supposed to be a good swell today and I'll be at the beach."
Pope takes the coffee from your hand, his rough fingers brushing over your soft skin, making you shiver involuntarily.
"I can come," he tells you.
You blink in confusion. Pope is a man of few words. You're aware of this from the times you have spent in his presence. Sometimes he'll sit with you and watch TV when J is busy.
"To the beach," he clarifies.
"You surf?" you respond, taking a sip of your iced latte.
He gives you a half smile. A rare sight.
"I'm also from California," he responds simply.
"Okay, well, get your stuff. I don't wanna miss it," you say with a shy smile.
You can't believe that you're willingly spending one-on-one time with one of J's uncles. But all things considered, Pope isn't the worst. Yeah, he's a bit strange. But there's something...calming about him. Maybe it was the time you fell asleep on the couch and woke up to him carrying you to bed. You slightly panicked, but he just placed you down and walked away.
"We'll take my truck," he tells you as he comes back dressed in his wetsuit. He hasn't put it on fully, so he's naked from the waist up. You inhale sharply at the sight of his bulging muscles under his sun-kissed skin. You're not expecting the sight. And you're not expecting your body to react that way. You're not expecting your cheeks to heat up or the heat growing in your stomach.
"Lemme grab my things," you say when you finally catch yourself.
You grab your board and your suit from your car. You're going to change at the beach like you always do. You've never been alone with Pope before. Not like this. He's quiet, stoic, as you make the short trip to the beach. He doesn't play music in his car. He just drives.
"Lemme get changed, and I'll meet you out there," you say to him with a smile.
He shakes his head, "I'll wait."
You bite your lip as you wiggle out of your jean shorts and the crochet shirt you're wearing over your floral bikini top. You don't notice how Pope's eyes wander over your body. He takes you in, hazel eyes examining every inch of you. The way your skin glows under the hot Californian sun. He lets out a soft breath at the way your breasts bounce as you jump to get your wetsuit up.
"Will you zip me up?" you ask him, turning around to offer him access to you.
You both know that you're capable of zipping up your wetsuit alone. But Pope won't argue and gently brushes your hair away from your back, he moves it over your shoulder and then zips you up. He moves closer than necessary so he can inhale your sweet scent.
"Want me to do you?" you ask him nodding to his wetsuit.
Pope gives you that half smile again before shrugging into his wetsuit and turning around to let you zip him up. You brush your fingers up the soft skin of his back and you watch as the muscles ripple under your touch. You shouldn't be doing this. But you zip him up nonetheless and spend the morning in the surf with him. With a man literally old enough to be your father.
Soon it becomes your routine. You and Pope meet on the beach every Friday morning and spend hours surfing and talking. Sometimes Pope will come into the bar during your shift. He nurses a whiskey and tips you far too well. If he comes into the bar, he'll wait for your shift to end to walk you to your car. He's scary. And you don't mind having your little guard dog.
Then, you find him at the entrance of the bar every night as your shift ends. Just so he can walk you to your car. It's just across the parking lot but you like it. Sometimes he'll sit in your car with you and hear you rant about your shift.
"This is gonna be our last Friday surf," you tell him as he carries both of your boards to his car.
He looks so hurt, like a kicked puppy.
"I go back to college next week," you tell him as you shake the salt water out of your hair. He watches as the water droplets slide down the valley of your breasts. "We can try Saturdays instead? Or Sundays? Unless you're busy?"
"Never too busy for you," he says quickly.
You don't expect to meet Pope Cody on your doorstep on your first day of your senior year of college. This time he's holding a coffee, although it's clearly one he made at home as it's in a mug. You can't help but smile at him.
"I thought you might want a ride to school," he says as he looks at you over his sunglasses.
"And how am I meant t' get home?" you respond as you take a sip of the coffee he made you. Just how you like it.
"You call me and I'll come get'cha," he responds.
So this is how the first semester goes. Pope Cody is your personal chauffeur, your bodyguard and your surf partner. He's become a closer friend to you than J. And J notices. Finally. It just took the better part of the year.
J has started to notice that you don't mind coming over for parties anymore. But when you're there, you're more often than not with Pope. Pope will bring you over a drink. Pope will watch you as you speak to whatever girls have been stupid enough to come over. Pope will sit by you when you're sick of standing. And Pope will go inside with you when you get chilly or bored with his brothers being obnoxious.
And J doesn't like it. When the fuck did you become best friends with the scariest of his uncles?
You and Pope are whispering together in the kitchen. He's got new wax for his board and offers to do yours too. You nod, telling him to come around later that evening.
"What are you two talkin' about?" J asks with a little huff on his face.
"Surfin'," you respond with a shrug before you walk out to the pool.
"You screwin' her or something?" J hisses at his uncle.
Pope just looks at his nephew down his nose and walks away following you out to the pool with a towel for when you come out of the water. He's not going to rise to that. And he doesn't want J to know he has been fantasising about you since that first day on the beach. He doesn't want J or you to know that he's been watching you sleep for months. You should get better locks on your apartment door. You look so pretty when you sleep.
You also talk in your sleep. One night as he sits in the corner of your room, you start to whimper. He presumes you're having a nightmare until he hears you whimper his name. Not Pope, the monkier his family gave him. No, you whimper Andrew.
Oh, Andrew, yes! Please!
He had no choice but to grab a pair of your panties. Used panties. He inhales your scent before shoving them in his pocket. He breathes them in as soon as he gets to his own bedroom and jerks off into his hand. Thinking of the way you moaned his name in your sleep.
And he needs to figure out a way to hear it from you for real.
Since J has been an asshole, you've gotten more touchy with Pope. Not when Smurf is around though. You're not that stupid. At first, he's worried that you're doing it to make J jealous. But you'll hug Pope as greeting when he arrives at your apartment. No audience, just you and him. You brush your hand up his arm when he's in the kitchen making a drink while his brothers make noise by the pool. But his favourite thing is when you sit on the same lounger as him by the pool. You're not bold enough to climb into his lap. But you'll sit by him, offer to put sun cream on him. You always ask him to do your back and shoulders.
Sometimes after you settle yourself between the V of his thighs...only sometimes when his brothers aren't around you'll lie back on him. Relaxing against the hard muscle of his stomach.
These moments get added to Pope's fantasies when he's alone with his thoughts at night. The way you shudder under his touch, how soft your skin is. He knows each of your bikinis and he has his favourites. He loves how you wear your bright floral ones when you surf with him. But you go for softer colours when you're poolside with his family. His favourite is a white one that becomes almost sheer when you're in the water. But he doesn't like when his brothers are around to ogle you in it.
"Seriously," J asks you one night as you sit in Deran's bar. "What is going on with you and Pope?"
You look down at your glass and shrug, "You're always doing bullshit. We started surfing together. That's it."
"I heard he brings you to college too. And work?" J pushes.
"What? You got people spying on me? Should I call you Smurf?" you snap.
You don't need this third-degree bullshit. Not from J, who dragged you into this family.
"I even heard he stays over at your apartment," J continues.
"Yea, a few times. He's my friend, J. I don't need you to monitor everyone. Would you be this wound up if it were Craig or Derran?" you ask him.
"It's weird! He's my fuckin' uncle. He was in prison! He's dangerous!" J continues. "And he's old."
You throw your hands up and slam your drink down in one swallow.
"I don't need this bullshit, Joshua. You didn't give your girlfriend this sorta cross examination. Even after she started fuckin' your uncle," you hiss before you storm out.
You don't expect to walk into the wall of thick muscle that is Andrew Cody outside the bar. How did he know you were here? How did he know that you needed him?
"Hey, sugar, you okay?" he asks, steadying you by gripping your waist with his huge, rough hands. You can feel the heat radiating through the flimsy little skirt you wore out.
Pope wonders if you wore this for his nephew. Or some other shithead.
"I just needa go home," you finally answer him.
"Get in the truck," he tells you, firmly.
You just nod your head, the tone he uses goes straight to your core. You press your thighs together and get into his truck. He watches as your skirt rides up and he sees the sweet little floral panties you're wearing. They remind him of the bikinis you love. But seeing this is so much more intimate. Especially because he knows that you didn't mean for him to see it.
Pope is in two minds about going into the bar and beating the shit out of whoever has upset you and going straight to you. But when he sees your face, so open and needy in the truck waiting for him, he crumbles. He goes straight to you.
He drives you home, in silence once again. You're used to it. And you relish it. You needed the quiet. When he parks up, you turn to look at Andrew Cody. Really look at him. His eyes drop after a second of meeting your big eyes.
"Come in, Andrew," you whisper.
He doesn't need to be told twice. He follows you up to your apartment. He's been in your apartment before. By invitation as well as by his own volition. But tonight things are different. Maybe it's because everyone already presumes you're sleeping together. Maybe it's because you're sad and frustrated. Or maybe it's the tension, the touching, the longing glances over the past few months. But you lunge yourself at him. You kiss him hard and messy and desperate. And he kisses you back, tentatively at first but then he gets more desperate. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, you even taste blood as you both devour each other's mouths.
You pull away, "Fuck, Andrew. We shouldn't do this."
You're already so entangled in the Cody family. If you do this. If you cross this line, you'll become one. You know that if you let Pope have you, you'll be ruined. No one else will stand a chance.
"Baby," he growls, pulling you back into a kiss. And you just give in.
You pull at his shirt, needing to see him, needing to feel him against you. His hands are already under your skirt, palming at the flesh of your ass. The two of you are as desperate as each other. You're stumbling around your apartment. Clothes being thrown everywhere...even though Pope wants to fold everything in the back of his mind. But you're pulling him into your bedroom. You fall back onto your bed with his mouth over your breasts. You have no idea when you lost your bra. When Andrew had undressed you to just your floral panties.
You squirm under him as he bites over the swell of your breasts. He's leaving marks that he'll see the next time you go surfing. And he can't lie; he's getting off on the thought alone. You gasp as you feel him rip the fabric of your panties from your body. He lifts them to his face and inhales your sweet scent. A scent he's become addicted to. He grips your thighs and drags you up so you're balancing on your shoulders. He dives into your pussy like a man starved. And he is. He hasn't been dreaming about this for months. At his first taste of you, he cries out in pure desperation. You taste like fucking heaven. He doesn't want to muddy the experience with his fingers. He wants to drink you up. And you let him as he palms at the flesh of your thighs keeping you locked close to him.
You start to squirm harder against him as your orgasm starts to build. You've been dreaming about this moment for so long. But this is so much better than you could have imagined. You cum with a strangled cry, saying his name like a mantra.
Andrew. Andrew. Andrew.
He almost cums in his pants just at the way you moan his name like that. It's even sweeter than how he imagined it.
Pope has had issues getting hard in the past but ever since he started surfing with you, he's been hard enough to pound nails almost constantly.
"Wanna see you," you whisper as he lays you back on your bed. Your voice is still shaky from your orgasm; your whole body feels like an exposed nerve. But you're not done with him. Not a chance. Not when you've finally got him.
Andrew shucks his boxers off and your eyes go wide. You have no idea how he's going to fit inside you. He's huge.
"You okay, sugar?" he breathes, stroking your cheeks.
"You're really big," you confess. Sure, you've seen the print of him against his wetsuits, but you guessed there was fabric and water in the mix. But no...he's just...huge.
Andrew ducks his head shyly, "What? Those other boys were lacking?"
You blush bright red.
"Um...there were no other boys," you finally confess.
Pope's eyes go wide. He looks like the cat who's got the cream. He's going to be your first. He's gonna be the only person who has ever had you.
He kisses you now desperately. He grips the base of his cock, guiding the blunt head of his weeping cock to your entrance. He teases your clit first with his tip. You let out the sweetest little moans for him. And he's not even inside you yet. You're already panting and squirming for him. You're intoxicating, and he's already addicted to you.
Finally, he pushes into you. He has to squeeze his eyes shut at how tight you are. Pope has never been a gentle man. But he's being gentle for you. He'll always be gentle for you. When he finally bottoms out in you, your nails dig into his shoulders. They leave little half moons between his freckles.
"You're so tight, sugar," he breathes, his lips kissing over the shell of your ear.
You just nod, not sure you can form words. You're just so full of him. And when he starts rocking his hips you swear you see heaven. You've never felt this good in your life. Your body is on fire. His hands grip your hips and then slowly begin to explore the rest of your body. He grips your breasts, rough, pulling and flicking your nipples without rhythm. He then slides his hands down your arms, gripping your wrists and dragging them over your head. You both groan as he stretches your body out for him.
His thrusts get faster, harder, rougher. Andrew tried to be gentle, but fuck he needs to carve a path through you. He needs to make you his. No one else has had you and no one else will after he's finished with you. You're his. And only his.
"'m close, Andrew," you whine out as the headboard slams against the wall.
He's pumping in and out of you like a man possessed. The sound of skin on skin fills the room. It's animalistic. It's raw. It's fucking messy. And you cum without another warning. You scream out like a banshee as your orgasm rips through you.
Your pussy grips his cock like a vice and he has to stutter to a stop. He can't move you're so fucking tight, your cunt convulsing around his cock. And fuck, it's the prettiest fucking sight. Andrew presses his forehead against yours as you pull an orgasm from him. He fills you with thick, hot ropes of cum. The release feels like heaven. You swear it spurs on a third orgasm...or it could just be aftershocks from your last one. But it feels so good.
You lay tangled in each other's arms for what feels like hours. His cum seeps out of you and down your legs, cooling against your skin.
Finally, Pope gets up and grabs a wet cloth to clean you up.
"We can't tell Smurf," you say, at the same time as he says, "Smurf can't know."
At least you're on the same page. You both know that Smurf doesn't like it when her boys are distracted. She'll allow it for a time. But not for long. Especially if she sees their loyalty wavering. You're not stupid, you know she did something to Cath.
"Stay," you breathe, running your fingers through Andrew's auburn curls. You love the grey that's appeared by his temple, the greys that pepper his stubble.
You can't help but kiss over his chin and jaw. You give him a little nip as you do. This elicits a rare chuckle from Andrew 'Pope' Cody.
Your relationship with Andrew doesn't change much...bar the sex. The sex is incredible. Mind-blowing. You spend days in bed with him. You've started to wonder if you're a sex addict. Andrew soothes you, telling you this is very normal. Especially at the start of a relationship.
"Who are you fuckin'?" Craig finally asks you when he sees the hickies scattered over your body when he spots you on the beach one morning.
You've been smart, not flaunting your body over at the Cody house now that Andrew won't stop leaving marks on your skin. You can wear one-pieces, sporty ones that cover most of your chest if J invites you over to swim. Andrew gives you a knowing smirk when he sees your more modest swimwear. Knows that he's the reason.
But now you're in your bikini on the beach, not expecting to see anyone who might ask questions.
"Can't a girl have a lil privacy?" you ask putting your hands on your waist.
"Well no, because ever since I've known you, you've been like a nun or something," he responds as he shakes the seawater out of his hair.
"Just cos I won't sleep with you?" you respond with a roll of your eyes. "Cody boys aren't my type. Sorry, sweetheart!"
You give him a smile over your shoulder as you head back to your apartment.
Cody boys, no. Cody men, on the other hand? Well!
You were smart around the Cody house. You didn't change the way you had gotten closer to Pope. You didn't change how you would share a sun lounger with him. But Pope still acted like your touch freaked him out. He didn't soften into it like he did when you were alone.
You were careful. You were smart.
When you were alone in the kitchen or his bedroom or even just passing each other in the hallway, you couldn't help but press kisses to his jaw, he couldn't help but grip the soft flesh of your ass. Sometimes when you knew the house was empty, you would drop to your knees and take his heavy cock in your mouth. You loved making him feel good, making him feel powerful. You loved tasting him as he unloaded into your mouth. He always came so quickly when you got your mouth on him.
You just couldn't get caught.
Even if Andrew's brothers knew they'd soon tell Smurf. And then she would use that shit against you.
So you think you're being smart. Until you weren't.
J has invited you to a party. But he's distracted, playing stupid games with his uncles in the pool. Smurf is watching like an emperor in the Colosseum watching gladiators fight. She presides over the parties and everyone loves it. You have to contain your eyerolls behind the designer sunglasses Pope got you. No one notices when you go inside. No one except Pope, who, as always, has been watching you like a hawk. He finishes his beer before following you inside. He can't make it obvious.
You're hunting in the fridge for a soda. His eyes zero in on the curve of your ass. He places his hand on your waist and you jump before you realise who it is.
"Andrew," you breathe softly, turning to look at him.
"No one's watching, sugar," he whispers as he leans down to kiss you.
You smirk against his lips, stepping onto the boots he always wears to kiss him deeper. His hands palm at your ass, slipping under your bikini bottoms to grip the full globe of your ass. His thumb brushes lightly over your puckered hole.
"Andrew," you scold, pushing him away gently.
You giggle as you drop down to your knees, hidden by the kitchen island, and pull his cock from his swim shorts, taking him in your hot mouth. Andrew has to stay still as you work over his dick without being caught.
One thing leads to another and you're in his bedroom trying to stay quiet as he ploughs into you. He's got you on your hands and knees, on the floor because the bed is too noisy. You learn this when you try to ride him but the mattress springs are screeching. So you let the carpet burn into your flesh as Andrew fucks you. He's already made you cum twice on his face. He clamps a hand over your mouth when you cum, muffling your desperate cries of pleasure. He has to bite down on your shoulder to stop his grunts when he fills you with his cum.
Pope knows that you should get dressed and go back out to the party. But he gathers you in his arms and brings you to his bed.
"Just for a minute," you tell him, knowing that he loves post-sex cuddles. He's never been held, not really. And you intend to fix that. You cuddle him whenever you can. You'll always have you arms wrapped around him when you're alone.
What you don't expect is to wake up to the sun filtering in. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
"Andrew! Andrew!" you hiss, trying to wake him up. "Andrew fuckin' Cody!"
Smurf is always awake so fucking early. You have no intention of her finding the two of you. You pull your clothes back on. Swearing when you can't find your bikini top. You were only wearing a beach cover-up when Pope accosted you in the kitchen. So you can't just wander around like this. That's why you decide to grab one of Pope's black t-shirts. It doesn't hide the fact that you're not wearing a bra. But if you can get out of the house before you meet...
"Smurf!" you say as you walk outside. You thought you could sneak out the back. But of course, you can't.
"You stayed the night," she notes, her eyes dropping down to the fact you're clearly not wearing a bra and then to the carpet burn on your knees.
Interesting.
"Sorry I got a bit overwhelmed by the party and I musta passed out in J's room," you lie.
"In Pope's room," she points out. "And you're wearing Pope's shirt."
"Nothing gets by you, Smurf," you say with a smile. "I was wearing a cover-up and it just didn't seem appropriate in the light of day. Look, I should go. I have work."
Smurf immediately turns to the go to the bedroom but frowns when she finds the room empty. The bed has already been stripped. Oh what a smart girl.
"Pope?" she calls. She's aware that he didn't leave last night either.
Pope has put the bedsheets and some of his clothes in the wash. Everyone knows he's a clean freak. No one will bat an eye at him washing bedding that some girl slept in. Obviously without him.
"You didn't go home last night," she says when she finds him.
He just grunts, "I took a walk on the beach. Couldn't sleep. Came back this morning."
Smurf's eyes narrow. She doesn't like it when people lie to her. Especially not her eldest boy.
Pope makes sure for the next fortnight that he stays at Smurf's or his place. He still brings you to and from class, still surfs with you. Doesn't change that part of his routine. But he doesn't sleep over. He doesn't alert Smurf to you any more than he has to of how much you mean to him.
"This is my last semester of college," you tell him one afternoon as you lay on the couch. Your head is on his bare chest and he's playing with your hair.
"After that, there's nothing tying us to Oceanside. We could go anywhere," you remind him.
"What about-"
"Don't say her name," you whisper, kissing over his chest. "Your brothers can handle their own shit. They're grown men. You can start fresh."
"Where has good surfing?" he asks, then as he runs his fingers through your hair.
You smile and stretch up to kiss him.
"I think we can figure it out."
a/n: thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! any and all feedback appreciated
18+ thinking about subby pope receiving a handy <3
fem! reader, mdni. 0.8k words. sub pope, oral fem receiving, usage of ‘mama’ once, edging, crying, handjob, popes a whining mess, porn no plot.
pope cody who moved with predatory stillness, stepping into rooms all broad shouldered and unblinking. casting a shadow of uneasiness that nipped at his ankles, following him always. craig joked that he was like your guard dog, gaze tracking every small shift, literally ready to pounce at any moment.
everyone assumed he was the same in the bedroom. they were gravely mistaken.
poor pope, literally crying into your cunt, lazily lapping at your clit. fat tears streaking down his cheeks, mixing with your juices and coating his chin. he was pawing at your thighs, squishing the plump skin, spreading you open wider for him.
“feels so good… doing so good, andy.” you whined, back dipping off the bed in a near pornographic arch.
and god, the glassy eyes and furrowed brows. he genuinely was looking up at you to make sure he was doing good, like he had no idea how fucking good he felt licking you open. you couldn’t help but coo looking down at him, your fingers carding through his curls.
he was whimpering into your core, desperately humping his hard cock into the mattress. pope relished in your moans, pre cum drooling from his shaft, making his boxers all sticky. :((
it literally takes an army to get pope to stop suckling on you. he’d gave you a few sloppy kisses on your puffy folds before reluctantly parting with her.
you finally managed to get him off you, and slumped against the headboard. your nails were slowly scraping down his chest, finally disappearing into his boxers.
his hips jerked up. gaze searching yours, giving you those sad puppy eyes when you wrapped a hand around his length. he hissed, trying his best still the upward bucks of his pelvis, taking every ounce of his strength not to fuck into your fist right then and there.
“oh, fu—huck. i’m—hm not gonna last.” he whines as you begin to stroke him. he was drawing his bottom lip into his mouth to stifle his moans, biting down hard enough to taste blood.
“awh… that’s okay, honey. i’ll make it last, huh?” you croon, twisting your fist as you tug him, squeezing tightly at the base of his length. you find a slow pace, drawing it out as much as possible.
you bring your free hand up to his mouth, cupping your palm right under his chin. “spit.”
he complies almost instantly. keeping direct eye contact as he musters up enough saliva to spit out directly into your palm. your hand finally finds his cock again, smearing the newfound wetness all over his angry tip.
“ah—oh god… fu—fuck.” he’s hiccuping now, withering against the sheets, knuckles white as he grips fistfuls of the comforter. eyes rolling back, chest heaving with each shaky breath as tears slip down the apples of his cheeks.
“i can’t—ah… gonna cum,” you see it—the way the muscle of his thighs jump, abdomen tightening and balls contracting, desperately ready to bust.
you gave one final tug, stopping to squeeze the base of his cock as pope hopelessly bucked his hips into the air, cock springing around trying to find any sort of friction. “no, nooo…” he sobbed, eyes squeezing shut.
slowly, his breathing began to even out, the ruined orgasm melting away as the muscles in his body began to finally relax again. your hand left his cock and he gasped, dick slapping back against his stomach.
pope sniffed, forcing his eyes open to see you—the sight alone almost had him cumming untouched. you were crooning at him, because he was just so sweet and needy! it wasn’t his fault! :(
your fingers slowly ascended up his knee, palm gently traveling up his leg until your skin was softly rubbing against his inner thigh. he jerked hard—cock twitching painfully as your skin finally came so close to where he needed you the most.
“please, mama… need it so bad.” he’s sniffling, and how could you ever deny him?!
“oh, i know… jus’ need me to take care of you, huh? that it, honey?” he’s nodding along with you—but to be fair you think he’d agree to anything you said right now.
your hand gripped around his cock again, popes head instantly fell back against the bed frame with a choked moan. you found a pace that had him squirming against the sheets, this time swiping a thumb over the tip of his aching cock—earning you a pathetic whimper.
it didn’t take long for his orgasm to creep up again, he was a wailing mess, mumbling words almost incoherently through whines.
“oh my god—thank you, thank you… uhhhh… so good t’me,” pope fucked his cock harder into your fist as he came. spurting thick ropes of cum all over his stomach, your hand and even his thighs.
content warning: jack abbot x female!reader. 18+, minors do not interact!!! age gap (i imagine reader to be mid-to-late 20s). you're quiet and jack wants you to be loud in the bedroom. jack calls you baby, sweetheart, honey. vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting. also not proofread.
word count: aprox. 1k.
i want to write a pt 2 already later on, but right now this was all my creativity allowed me to write. maybe if any ideas pop into my head, who knows 🤷♀️
you're shy. shy and unexperienced.
you're quiet. especially during sex. you don't moan loud, doesn't beg and doesn't whine and whimper. most jack can get out of you is a few sighs, hands gripping the sheets and teeth digging into her bottom lip or his shoulder.
she doesn't initiate sex. doesn't ask for what she wants — and not because she doesn't want it, but because she cannot mutter the words. but jack would always know, the way your cheeks would heat up, flushing pink all the way down to your neck and chest. he'd always cave and make sweet love to you, and he'd be especially thorough, always making sure to get you to cum.
but after a while, he grew tired of this. jack wanted everything. everything from you. every sound, every moan, every whimper. he wanted it all. it was his personal mission now: get you to lose your mind.
jack has you on your back, spread out on the middle of the bed. jack himself is on his stomach, between your thighs. and he's been bullying your cunt with his thick fingers, plunging them deep, dragging them out on your soft walls.
but not a single loud moan from your lips yet.
your pussy lips are puffy, swollen and red from the stimulation. jack doesn't let you cum just yet. he'll get you close enough, until you're clenching and writhing, then stop it all.
"aw, look at you, baby," he coos at your pussy, using both middle fingers of his other hand to spread your folds for his gaze.
"jack," you whisper, so desperate. by now, you're leaking all over his hand, the insides of your thighs all slick and messy.
"c'mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he says. but his resolved has changed now.
the thrusts in his fingers, deep and harsh, curling them just right against that spongey spot. you gasp, your hole clenching hard.
jack doesn't stop, bringing you to the orgasm quickly. your back arching off the bed as your thighs close around hir arm. "nu-uh, baby. keep 'em, open," he says.
"jackie, it's too much," you whine when he keeps drilling his fingers into your cunt. well, that's a first.
"i know, baby. i know. but you can give me another one, can't you?" he mocks, bringing his face down to give your clit a little lick. "just one, honey. yeah?"
you nod, and, oh, poor you.
your second orgasm builds up quickly, your pussy squeezing at his fingers. "c'mon, sweetheart. you can be a little louder for me, mhm?" he hums, watching your body squirm and writhe on the bed.
you shake your head, the idea of making noise making your heart beat so fast in panic. what if you sound weird? what if you're too loud? what if he doesn't like how you sound—
"i can see you overthinking," he says. "get outta your head alright, honey. you don't have to sound like a pornstar. i just wanna hear you, okay? just wanna hear my best girl. how good i'm making her feel."
"jackie," you whisper, pouting at him. the sheets beneath you grow a shade darker with your arousal that keeps dripping out of you.
"little louder, baby," he asks you.
you can't. it's like a physical weight on your neck, making it impossible. the words won't come out.
jack sighs, and for a moment you think he's disappointed. but no, he is determined. he will make you louder by the end of the night.
his lips seal around your clit, suckling at it, swirling his tongue around. he groans when your hand grips his hair. he keeps torturing your clit with his mouth, toying with it, and his fingers keep hitting the spot that makes you see stars.
that second orgasm leaves you reeling, your mind going fuzzy. you're starting to make some noise — a few mewls, whines, but not nearly what jack wants. he wants you loud. wants you to bed for what you want.
"you wanna be my good girl, don't you, honey," he mumbles, licking at your folds, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. you nod desperately from above and he smiles.
so he doesn't stop. you're sensitive, he knows that. your poor pussy must be feeling raw after two back-to-back orgasms he pulled out of you. too bad, he doesn't care. unless you tell him to stop — and you haven't —, he doesn't care.
"jackie, jackie, jackie—" you whimper, tears building up behind your eyes.
"there's my sweet girl," he chuckles against your cunt, the sound rumbling through you. "little louder, baby. i'm an old man, my hearing isn't what it used to be," he winks at you from between your legs. he's playing with you and you know it.
the familiar sensation of your orgasm building up is back, making you clench and squeeze at his fingers. jack groans at that, his hips bucking against the bed. he's humping the bed like teenager, and not the fifty year old man he is.
"jack, stop, stop," you say, swatting at his forehead. "i gotta… i…" you stammer, eyes rolling back.
"what?"
"it feels like-like… i gotta go pee," you say.
"mhm," he hums. pretends to think about it. "no," he says, diving back to lap at your weeping cunt in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
"what— jack!" you moan, and this one is loud, your back bowing off the bed in a pretty arch.
"that's okay, sweetheart," he says. "just this one more, okay? then we're done, honey. i promise," he kisses the insides of your thighs. every time his fingers thrust into you, your pussy squelches, wet and loud. "you have the prettiest cunt, you know that. the prettiest i've ever seen," he kisses your folds again.
"jack, no…" you cry out, desperate, because you're about to make a mess.
"it's okay, sweetheart. it's normal, yeah? it's just your body reacting. nothing to be ashamed of," he calms you down.
eventually, it's too strong to hold back. you sob, your thighs clenching around his head and you come.
the loudest you've ever been as you squirt all over jack's hand and face. "theeeeeeere we go," jack moans. "look at you, baby. making a mess of the bed. so pretty when you squirt, honey," he says, not stopping his thrusts. "good job, baby. you gonna do that on my cock next," he swirls his tongue around on your cunt.
could i request titus with voyeurism/exhibitionism? yipppeeeeeeee
feeling crazy rn
18+
You were always Titus’s favorite. Every time he wanted to play golf, you’d get a text from your manager, requesting you come in ASAP. And every time you did exactly that, throwing on the official emerald green Danforth Resort polo and the special white tennis skirt Titus had gotten you. You weren’t sure where he’d found it, or if he’d had it custom made. The built in shorts that usually came standard with this type of skirt were gone, replaced by an attached lacy, white crotchless thong.
It left you almost completely bare. The cart girl skirts were already skimpy – meant to encourage disgusting old men to tip more, you supposed – and the lack of coverage underneath meant you were vulnerable to a strong gust of wind.
And Titus required you to wear it whenever you were serving him. For situations exactly like this.
He’d brought some old, stuffy business partner with him today. You didn’t really care who the man was, much more focused on pouring expensive scotch for the two men and ogling Titus. He looked fantastic in his dark slacks and even darker polo. With every swing, his biceps bulged and the muscles in his thighs flexed. It was a struggle to keep your focus on your own cart whenever Titus stepped up onto the green.
You’d been wet since you’d first set eyes on him this morning. It was a Pavlovian response after so many months of being his personal… attendant on the golf course. You found yourself craving his touch more and more frequently as time went on, especially after he gave you your special skirt.
You knew Titus had noticed how you’d been shifting, trying to fight the growing discomfort of your wetness leaking down your bare thighs and seeking pressure to ease the ache in your core as the game went on.
When the opportunity came, Titus seized the moment immediately.
The man he’d brought with him was old with a weak bladder, so when he’d needed a bathroom break before the 9th hole – very conveniently the most isolated on the entire course – Titus had commanded his caddy to drive the man back to the clubhouse so he could relieve himself and they could continue.
As soon as they’d rounded the corner, Titus grabbed you by the wrist, yanking you into his lap where he sat in the driver's seat of his golf cart.
“Let’s see if you’re ready for me, doll,” his fingers dipped below your skirt. “You’re soaked. Been waiting for this?”
You were and you had been. You’d noticed just how wet you were around the 3rd hole and you’d been aching for his touch around the 5th.
“I’m ready,” you gasped when he sunk two fingers deep inside you. They felt good, but you needed something more. You needed him, balls deep inside you. “Please, Sir.”
“Alright, alright,” his fingers slipped out. He wiped them on your skirt before undoing his belt. “Since you’re so desperate, take what you need.”
Your eyes were glued to his deft fingers as they undid his slacks and slid them and his briefs down just far enough to pull his cock out. He was fully hard, already leaking at the tip. You knew he liked to lie and pretend he didn’t crave you as much as you did him, but his cock was always honest with you.
“Thank you, sir,” you lifted, reaching down to grasp the heavy length of him and position the tip between your folds. “Thank you.”
Titus blew out a harsh breath when your heat enveloped him as you slid down slowly. He filled you perfectly, reaching all the way to the very back of your channel and stretching your walls.
You settled against his thighs, taking a moment to catch your breath as your walls squeezed around him.
But Titus was growing impatient. He slapped your ass, causing you to yelp and your hips to jerk.
“C’mon,” he thrust up against you, burying himself even deeper. “I don’t have all day.”
With a whimper, you began rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure. Your lip was clenched tight between your teeth as you fought to keep your voice down, but noises still slipped through. Titus just felt too good for you to keep your voice to yourself.
“Yeah?” Titus chuckled, but his own breathing was heavier as you chased your pleasure. “Feel good?”
“Yes, sir,” you were picking up the pace, the cart beneath you shaking and rocking in time with your movements. “Feels so good. Too good.”
“Too good?” He was laughing again, but he couldn’t fight a groan as you sunk down fully, grinding your hips back and forth.
“Too good,” your thighs were trembling, but you didn’t give up. You were so close, your clit grinding against his pubic bone with every hard roll of your hips against his. “M’gonna cum, sir. Can I? Please?”
“Cum,” Titus’s hand fisted in your ponytail, tugging your head back. His teeth dug into your neck as your eyes caught on the distant figure of his golfing companion and caddy driving back towards you. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”
“Titus, Titus they’re–”
You couldn’t get the rest of the words out, choking around your climax as it rushed through you. All of your limbs felt like jelly. Your movements slowed, but Titus picked up the slack, keeping you bouncing and grinding on his lap while you twitched and spasmed around his cock.
“Take it,” Titus was pumping his cock up into you. Your eyes rolled back as the fire of your orgasm was ratcheted up again as you felt the blistering heat of his cum fill you, spurt after spurt.
Titus leaned back against the seat, sighing in satisfaction as his orgasm ended. You weren’t sure how he looked so relaxed and composed when you were still shaking in the aftermath of your own.
Tires on gravel alerted you to the impending arrival of his guest. You sprung off his lap, steadying yourself quickly and hurrying back to your cart. Behind you, you could hear Titus laughing and the rustling of his clothes as he pulled himself back together.
It sent a little thrill through you to see his associate raising an eyebrow at you as the caddy pulled in to park behind Titus’s cart. You weren’t attracted to man at all, but it warmed you from the inside out to see his eyes rake over you before darting over to look at Titus. His eyes moved back to you, zeroing in on your bare thighs.
That was when you realized you were very visibly dripping Titus’s cum.
18+. content warnings: oral sex (f rec), cheating, manipulation kinda, medical setting, praise, implied cucking(?)
you're a little stressed after spending the night with your boyfriend. he simply could not get you wet, even though he tried soooo hard... so you head to your physician, dr jack abbot.
jack listens with restrained satisfaction at the desperate note in your voice, at that hint of concern, like you're worried that something is wrong. he wants so badly to tell you that your boyfriend is just fucking useless, that it's nothing to worry about, that you're being a good girl…
but first, he wants to be sure. "let me see, honey."
he lays you out on the exam table, then his hand withdraws from your trembling thighs, moving down to grip the back of your knee. "spread a little more for me. i wanna check something."
you watch as he pushes his stool forward, his head and shoulders lowering between your legs. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself closer to your pussy, his gaze roaming over your skin.
he presses a warm peck to your inner thigh. "there," he murmurs. "let me take care of you, honey. do you trust me?"
"yes," you reply, and you barely have time to exhale before he's pressing a feather-light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. "doctor abbot?"
his chuckle vibrates against your skin as he lifts his head just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. "just making sure everything's working right," he mutters, the clinical distance in his tone at odds to the way his tongue flicks over your clit in a quick, teasing stroke.
his hands slide up to grip your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. "relax," he orders, lips brushing your inner thigh again. "let me show you what your boyfriend should've been doing."
then he lowers his mouth to your cunt properly and licks a hot, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit. "what– what's this test for?" you breathe out, your chest heaving with arousal.
his mouth moves against you, tongue taking broad, languid laps. "it's called the clitoral glans test," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "to see how responsive you are. and you're being a very, very good girl, i must say."
it's not long before you're leaking all over his tongue, your slick pooling onto the paper sheets. "sweet girl," he praises. "taking my mouth so well. your boyfriend ever do this to you?"
you exhale shakily, the shame gnawing at you again as you shake your head. "no... he... he said he doesn't like doing it..."
his tongue swipes over your hole again, almost thoughtfully lapping up your juices, the ones that spilled out of you just for him. "he doesn't like it, huh? well, he's an idiot, honey, because you taste incredible."
"t-thank you," you stutter out at the praise, your hips bucking up against his mouth. "ah- sorry-"
"no apologising, sweetheart," he says, his breath hot against your folds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin for reassurance. "i like your desperate little movements. keep going, honeygirl. let me see just how responsive you are." then his tongue is back between your legs, stroking slow, up and down, as he gauges your reactions.
"and don't you worry, honey," he says conversationally between licks, as if he wasn't making a mess of your pretty little cunt, "you make another appointment, i will be teaching your boyfriend how to eat your pussy very thoroughly, no matter how much he says he doesn't like it. cunt like this deserves to get eaten."
he hums, low and thoughtful. "maybe i'll even make him take notes. have him write up a full report on the experience."
guilty eyes that were glued to your tits find your eyes, “can you blame me?”
you only shrug and continue to lather shampoo onto jack’s greying curls while you stand between his thighs.
“i’m going to purposely put soap in your eyes,” you smile and tug on jack’s hair playfully.
“kinky.” he raises his soapy brows at you.
twisting in jack’s firm hold, you reach for the shower head. you nod your head once to tell jack to look up before rinsing the soap out of his hair.
enjoying the grip on your waist that fell to the back of your thighs, you rinse until his hair drips clean water.
“all done, jack,” you hum pressing a sweet kiss on his lips.
that kiss turns into something more when jack’s tongue slips in your mouth and his hand reaches from the showerhead.
“give it to me and turn around.”
you know that voice. you know that tone, so you listen.
with your back facing jack who waits patiently on his shower chair, he guides you to sit on his lap.
a small gasp escapes your lips when you feel jack’s hardening cock on your ass and like a broken record you giggle,“pervert.”
his free hand grips your cheeks and turns your head so he can kiss you. the strain in your neck hurts, but you don’t care. not when jack groans when your fingers tangle in his freshly washed hair.
“think you can take it?”
almost immediately you nod with everything you have, using the armrests of jack’s shower chair, and hover over his lap so he can line himself up with your entrance.
he nudges your clit and looks down in awe when you slowly sink down on his cock. taking a second to adjust to the more than familiar feeling, you sigh softly resting your head on jack’s shoulder.
“how’s that?” he hums against your wet skin, pressing a kiss on your cheek.
“good," you slur, "‘m so full.”
already drunk on his cock, you bounce on his cock despite your muscles stringing tight.
desperate to chase your orgasm, your hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit, but jack is quick to shoo it away.
"none of that, I got it."
"hm?"
he hooks your thigh over his in order to spread your legs, leaving your pussy vulnerable to his touch.
his left hand slips over your split thighs and fingers part your lips. with your clit exposed, there was no way to brace yourself when jack aims the showerhead between your thighs.
"oh fuck."
panting through the sudden wave of pleasure, your whine echos in the shower. the water pressure is just right as it hits your clit and jack knows it.
he feels it. he feels the way your pussy clenches around his cock and the way your hand drops to grip his forearm - nails digging into his skin.
teeth bite at your skin and your brain makes the connection, keeping bouncing.
lifting yourself so he's half-nestled inside you you whine at the loss of insane water pressure on your clit. when jack tries to follow your pace, it only get worse.
water sprays at your tummy, then your inner thigh, but never your clit.
"jack-" you cry.
"take it, baby," he hands you the showerhead, which you immediately take.
with him still spreading your folds apart, you aim the water just right. chasing your now fast approaching orgasm, you continue your pace.
it’s filthy the way you bounce on his cock. you don’t put on a sultry show, too preoccupied with your pleasure.
"fuck, that's it." jack groans in your ear, "use me."
your ears feel clogged, but it isn’t hard to follow his orders.
grinding your hips to meet his, you clench repeatedly on his cock, never letting up on your fast rhythm.
"use me baby."
the hand that isn't spreading you apart finds your tits. groping them and tugging at your nipples.
"gonna come jack."
your hand that isn’t holding the showerhead in its rightful place buries itself in jack's drying curls.
you're there already, but you need more. you're missing something.
your mind swims and before you can start to overthink jack's bites at your shoulder once more.
"need a kiss?"
fuck yeah, you do.
"kiss me," he whispers the same way he begged 'use me.'
slotting your kiss between his, you moan into his mouth. tugging him even closer by his hair. moaning into his mouth and jack takes advantage of your parted lips by massaging his tongue against yours.
“i love you, baby.”
his words are like a trigger because your orgasm crashes down. your thighs try to close, but jack’s makes sure they can’t.
overwhelmed by pleasure, the showerhead falls, spraying the both of you before it hangs against the wall.
“wait, wait, wait,” you sob when jack’s fingers replace the water, matching the jet-like pattern with overstimulating slaps.
every time his fingers make contact with your overly sensitive clit, your shrieks echo in the shower. never letting up, not even when your pussy squirts and your body quakes.
“st- j-jack.”
“too much?” he chuckles in your ear, still landing harsh slaps on your pussy making your clench around his cock.
“too much,” you sob, but it does nothing.
jack only chuckles in your ear. his begs for you to use him died in his throat and lived in yours.
“please.”
your beg only makes another slap land on your clit.
“know you have one more in you, baby, show me what you got.”
Jack Abbot who gets off on watching himself fuck you.
Who gets entranced watching himself rock in and out of your weepy pussy, stretching so prettily around him. His mind struggling to do anything but zero in on the glossy shine of arousal that coats his cock as he draws his hips back all the way to the tip. Who lets out groans and expletives so gutterally at the debauched sound that squelches out into the room when he parts your folds when pressing back inside.
Its heaven to him; this- you- the pulsing squeeze of your cunts gummy walls.
And god he's proud too; oh so fucking proud at sight of your drooly little hole taking him all in without complaint. Jack knows he's thick, that the tip kisses your cervix when he moves just right, but you've been so brave. You've not let out a single protesting peep; only wanting his heft closer- to push deeper. That sweet little nub of your clit all perfectly puffy and needy, just begging for his attention.
Attention Jack intends to give until that shine on his cock begins to get messier; the creamy hue of your release coating him instead.
A sight which, despite all the thing's Jack's seen in his lifetime, he thinks might just be his favorite.
Summary: the one where Jack Abbot doesn't play about helping his girl get to sleep.
Masterlist
Warnings: porn without plot (what can i say, im just a girl) v sleepy (but consenting!!) reader, light subspace vibes, vaginal fingering, clit play/pussy rubbing, jack talks you through, sprinkle of praise, clothed play. I think that is allll for today's blasphemy
Tbh i cant say anything more than i got myself in a headspace and locked the fuck in, i need those fat finger inside me SO BAD im going insane
Intensely locked in on the thought of lazy fingering/pussy rubs w Abbot
The kind when it starts innocent after a long day, the pair of you cuddled up beneath a blanket on the bed.
You rest practically on top of him, Jacks strong arms looped around you , letting your head tuck into the crook of his neck, keeping close. Its warm, comfortable, safe as the TV play's some show you'd lost focus on a while ago, too wrapped up in the heat of jacks body beneath yours.
One of his large hands drifts from rubbing over your back when you shift against his chest, a soft whine passing pouty lips half conscious. Mind struggling to drift off all the way despite the overtired exhaustion in your bones.
You dont notice that shift, too preoccupied in between dream and drift off. Not when the pads of his fingertips span your belly beneath your top, thumb soothing carefully, nor do you make a peep when they tuck just beneath the band of your sweats. Infact, if anything, you seem to press into the warmth of him like a kitten it's mother.
Still, he waits until you grumble again, scratchy stubble on his jaw rubbing your hair when you nuzzle in, before he lets them dip any further.
They creep down, slow and gentle, until he's cupping you over the cotton of your panties, pressure light to keep you drifting. You feel hot, even with the fabric barrier keeping your pussy from full contact.
Jacks fingers move back up the gusset, two chubby pads offering just a little more pressure, rubbing lazily. His chin dipping to plant a soft kiss to your temple.
The combination stirs you, makes your hand grip into the center of his shirt just a little tighter, sleepy eyes blinking up oh so blearily.
"Jack? What- mmph- what're you?-"You mumble, hips unconsciously tilting into the fingers that are still working your covered cunt.
Jack just smiles against you, cooing quietly, a freckled arm squeezing you a little tighter to him. "Shhh S'okay, Jus wanna feel my baby f' a bit, s'that alright? Jus' my fingers, Help you get all sleepy"
You must think about it for a single moment, a fleeting millisecond of coherence in that fuzzy little brain, before your head tucks back in and your leg drapes over his middle to allow more access.
Every whine, every whimper, you let bubble out holding a fragility that makes Jack's chest (and cock) ache.
And that, for a while, is how it goes. You, mewling into his neck, while Jack rubs your pussy over your panties. Just enough to keep you calm, to let you doze gently without drifting too far.
That is, until he finally slides the now drenched cotton to the side, his fingers making complete contact with the puffy, sticky lips of your vulva. Your head peaks out to moan, a sound that goes straight to Jack's cock.
"Ohh, s'that feel better? Hm?" he breathes, meeting your lips in a sloppy press that just about resembles a kiss.
Every brush, every lick of pressure to your clit has your hole drooling out arousal, pulsing as it tries to pull the digits that tease the outer edges in.
"Whats the matter, you need somethin inside?" your hips only tilt down, letting the tip of his middle dip just a little into where you need him. "Yeah.. Yeah you do, Alright, Nice n easy.. Big breaths, Jus feel it"
You take that breath against his mouth, shakey and tapering off into a soft cry, the thickness of his middle finger snug as it pushes inside your walls to the knuckle. He relishes in the moment, driving the single digit in and out, letting your wetness libricate the move before he begins to curl it with expert ease.
Jack can feel the heat radiating off of you, feel it pushed against his chest, every puff of your breath fanning hot. Even when you begin to squirm, rocking your hips in time as he presses against that spot that makes you keen, you remain devastatingly close- practically on top of him.
"S' Right there isn't it, thats the spot.." he murmers knowly, drawing out to circle your clit wetly. "Gonna give you another 'kay, big breaths good girl"
And If the first finger felt good, the stretch of two is like heaven, his middle and ring finger slipping in with little resistance. The rough pads curling up and pushing so perfectly against you that its obscene. Especially how, with every full plunge into your weepy cunt, you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring grow warmer- wetter.
And then, palm flush against your core once more, you hear it. The Filthy, muffled squelches that only make the lewdness of the situation worse.
Torn between nuzzling in deep to hide and the need to feel Jacks lips devour yours, You end up somewhere between the two when you mewl next, Cheek dragging open mouthed along the stubble of his jaw. Nimble fingers scrabbling to grip onto his forearm as the warmth in your belly burns hotter. "A-ah m' so- s'close Jack"
"Oh i know, i know.. S'right there isn't it" he shushes, squeezing your arm again, a faux kind of sympathy on his tongue. The heel of his palm plap, plap, plaping against your sticky, puffy clit as he curls his fingers perfectly deep. "cmon, cum it out sweetheart. Haven't gotta do nothin but let go, you can do it"
And truly, it doesn't take much more encouragement than that to make you shatter. His rough voice in your ear, fingers deep inside your rippling pussy as it squeezes him tight. The intensity has you shaking, lips dragging along his neck as you cry out. Each breath wracking your lungs as you heave it in. Heartbeat so loud in your ears you just about catch the gravelly drawl of jacks praise in your hair.
"That's my girl, yeaaahhh, there we go, makin me proud"
And jack, nothing if not totally content in your pleasure, doesn't stop, not until your squirming anyway. Struggling in his hold, hips writhing from the sensitivity, his fingers making sure to draw out the final sparks of heaven from your cunt before he snakes them free from you entirely.
Sticky, soaked and covered in the creamy mess of your release as they slide out of your panties and waistband up to his mouth.
You more so feel the guteral grumble at the taste, what with the way sleep finally seems to flood your system, fuzzy little head just about coherent enough to catch his final hum.
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