Discover Top Posts Tagged with #big bad wolf

⋆˚꩜｡big bad wolf｡꩜˚⋆

part 1 | part 2

rabbot x partygirl!reader mdni (18+)

wc: 5.3 k words cw: brief mentions of alcohol consumption and partying, very bratty reader, brat taming, age gap (reader is in college, no age specified, Jack and Robby are however old they are), fingering, thigh riding, unprotected p in v, double penetration, creampie, oral (m receiveing), mean!robby, soft dom!jack. a/n: thank you guys sooo much for 1k followers!! I love u all so much...I'm so happy the pitt is back and I can be a whore about it!! I am very very very open to making this a series...mhm... also lowkey shoutout to @rotteninthepitt's dp w rabbot post for inciting me to finish this... contains: you go to spend the summer to your childhood home, seemingly on your own, but after having witnessed your partying habits during the winter, your father decides to ask two of his closest friends to watch you. The tension snaps the first night you spend together.

Coming home just a couple of days before the summer holidays, the only weight you carried was that of the bag slung over your shoulder; there was nothing to worry about now except the presents you had to buy and the friends you were going to miss.

You felt it as soon as you opened the door, the house lacked the emptiness you had been preparing yourself for. Your father always took a trip during the summer, to Kenya or the Bahamas, frankly he went wherever his girlfriend of the month wanted to go, and you usually held fort in your childhood home, on your own. It was good to be on your own for a couple of days, good to see old acquaintances, good to go out to the bars with nobody waiting for you to come home, to tell you how late you were, how bad drinking was. But that evening, the house was warm, and as you walked through the hallway you could hear the faint hum of the TV, two male voices chatting over it.

You froze in the hallway. You recognized those voices, they were the same voices that told you to wear your shin guards during soccer practice if you didn't want to sprain your ankle again; the same voices that joked about school and summer jobs if you misbehaved, voices of the men that had sewn up countless childhood injuries, laughing lightheartedly at your despair. Voices of adults who hovered at the edges of your childhood like guardrails, never distant enough to forget them.

Hearing them now, after two years, felt strange. Scary, in a very childish way. For a second there you missed your father, you wished he didn't travel during your summer break. If he was there he'd make everything better, less awkward.

Jack was saying something about the game on TV, about a ref who needed glasses. Robby hummed in response, noncommittal, that familiar sound that meant he wasn't really listening. The sound, deep and coarse, slid straight under your skin like it always had.

You stood there longer than necessary, keys still in your hand, coat half-unbuttoned, already starting to sweat. You hoped, stupidly, that the stillness would change something, that you would also hear your father's voice, telling you he hadn't actually left with his girlfriend on vacation, that it was all a ruse, that Jack and Robby were only there for dinner. But you knew better than that.

When you finally stepped forward, the hallway seemed too narrow, like it had shrunk while you were gone. You felt as if, actually, the whole house had shrunk during your absence, as if a semester in college had turned you into Alice and your childhood home into wonderland.

Jack noticed you first, as always. His head snapped up, eyes widening. You'd grown. He let his eyes roam freely, hungrily, before his face rearranged itself into something carefully appropriate. Robby followed a second later, slower, his gaze landing on your legs and lingering just long enough to feel heated before he looked away.

You were acutely aware of how different everything was, how different you were. Alice in wonderland, you thought.

"Hey," Jack said finally, softening his voice like he was approaching something skittish, a fawn or a bunny.

"Hey," you echoed.

You should've felt annoyed at their intrusion, and for a second you almost had, before their eyes landed on you, and you felt a tight, unfamiliar flutter low in your stomach.

"Didn't know you were getting here so soon." Jack said. It was merely an observation, a simple comment, but it made something in you stir uncomfortably.

"Yes, I, uh...had no class, so..." You nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Right, college schedules." Robby murmured from his place on the couch, barely lifting his eyes to look at you.

You shrugged, suddenly aware of how young you must have sounded, how juvenile, how stupid. Once again feeling like you hadn't caught up to reality yet. You told yourself it was from driving too long, and not from seeing Jack and Robby like this. You were no longer a kid, you told yourself, yet you felt like one beneath their careful eyes.

"I thought the house would be empty", you said finally, because the silence had grown too thick to ignore. Jack’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, something tightening around his mouth. "Yeah," he said. "About that," before he could go on, Robby stood up, slow and deliberate, his voice cutting in with none of Jack’s earlier cushioning.

"Your dad asked us to be here," he said, slowly, plainly. He spoke as if you already knew you deserved this, as if he were telling you these were simply the consequences of your own actions. "While you’re home."

Just like that, all your hopes—all your expectations for this summer, which had been simmering for so long—vanished. No partying, no late nights bleeding into early mornings, no freedom. You were back to square one, back to the way things had been when you were a teenager. It was infuriating. Sure, you liked to party more than most, and yes, you drank when you went out, but it wasn’t a problem. Maybe, deep down, your father knew—but he was so terribly protective of his little girl, sometimes he forgot you weren't so little anymore.

It had been in the winter, during your holidays, that he'd come to be familiar with your going out routines. The too short skirts, the young men picking you up in their loud cars, the coming back in the morning, clothes on haphazardly and eyes hazy. He had told you then he found your ways embarrassing, no young lady should behave like this! he said. But all of your friends were the same, and your father was old...what did he know, anyway? It made no sense to you. You had believed it was over, there was no shame, no consequences to your actions. You had been so wrong.

"So that’s it?" you said, your voice rising despite yourself. "He decides I’m a problem and sends you two to keep me in line?" You huffed out a humorless laugh. "God, that’s humiliating."

Robby didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked more settled now, like this was the version of the conversation he’d been expecting all along. The only thing giving away his annoyance was the seriousness in his eyes and the tick of his jaw, "He asked us to make sure you don’t do anything stupid again," he said evenly. "He had a reason to worry, kid."

"Wow..." You shot back, anger seeping beneath your eyes, stinging. "You talk to your residents like that? Tell 'em they're stupid?"

Jack stepped in immediately. "Hey—no one’s calling you stupid. That’s not what this is."

"But it is" you said, eyes locked on Robby. "He just did."

Robby’s jaw tightened, his voice raised. "We are here because you’ve given your father a reason to worry."

You felt heat rush to your face, the tears prickle your lash line. "You don’t get to say that! You barely know me, stop acting like you do."

"Oh, but I know enough," he replied. "Late nights. Parties. That call he got last spring at two in the morning—"

"You weren’t there," you snapped. "So don’t act like you know what happened, Michael."

Robby’s eyes narrowed slightly, lingering a second too long on your lips, watching the way you bit them nervously before snapping back up to your eyes, exasperated. The sharpness in your voice, your defiant nature, the furious rise and fall of your chest, all of it hit him somewhere deep and familiar, uncomfortable.

He was supposed to be the bigger person. He was supposed to be looking out for you. But instead, he was acting up. He felt the heat in his chest, the subtle awareness of how close he was standing, the way your perfume invaded his space.

You, for your part, felt it too. The way he lingered close to you, hands twitching angrily at his sides, the tilt of his head as he watched you breathe. It was impossible not to notice him, not as your dad's friend, not as an authority figure, but just as a man. Just as him.

Robby, who had once spoken softly and carefully as he picked a splinter from your palm, hands carefully caressing your skin, murmuring about how brave you were; Robby who had bandaged your sprained ankle, laughing with you about how you should maybe forgo running in stilettos. He had always been so sweet, so welcoming, watching you with wet, wide eyes. But you couldn't think of him like that, no. He was your dad's friend, what would people think? What would he think if he knew? You hated yourself a little bit for it, hated that even as you glared and barked at him, a small, absurd part of you was still drawn in, distracted by the bobbing of his throat when he swallowed, the heat under his gaze.

Robby exhaled through his nose, exasperated and tired. "I'm not here to argue with you, I'm here because a friend of mine asked me to be," he said, his voice colder now. "I'm going to bed. We can talk in the morning, when you've...cooled off." He was already halfway up the stairs when he finished talking.

You scoffed. "Don’t flatter yourself!"

Jack stood up, rubbing his temple, looking suddenly exhausted. "He shouldn’t have said it like that," he said carefully. "He’s not good at...this."

You crossed your arms, heart still pounding. "At what? Treating me like an adult?"

"At remembering you've got perfectly good decision making skills, at not being overbearing with everyone around him...I've gotten used to it." Jack said, softer now, with that same careful edge, like he was trying to protect both of you from the tension that had just exploded.

Jack bent down and picked up your bags like they weighed nothing, ignoring your complaints. "I've got it, don't worry."

He followed you up the stairs, keeping his eyes glued to the floor no matter how much he wanted to trail them up your legs. He noticed the varnish in the stairs, the chipping paint.

It was strange being in your childhood room again, it always was. It served as a bittersweet reminder of the person you had once been, posters on the walls and photographs with people who no longer were in your life.

"Here," Jack grunted as he set the bags on the floor, "now, you should get comfortable, get some sleep...don't mind Robby."

You nodded, hummed in agreement and closed the door behind him. You peeled off your clothes unceremoniously, sick of them sticking to your skin with sweat. You laid in bed, wearing a flimsy tank top and shorts, trying to combat the heat and whatever it was you were feeling. It wasn't anger, not really, it was closer to shame. But you would never let Robby know that.

After rolling around nervously in bed for a bit, hearing the tv from the living room in the background, you mustered up the courage to walk downstairs, deal with whatever uncomfortable conversation the universe threw your way.

You were relieved to find Jack alone, tidying up the kitchen with the television as background noise. He looked up when he heard you, a soft smile spreading on his face. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "Was overthinking."

Jack set the last dish aside, wiping his hands on a towel before leaning against the counter. His eyes softened when they found you. "Want some company?" He noticed your eyes widen and quickly added "I mean, you can talk to me if you want, or we can sit in silence, watch tv if it helps take your mind off things."

A smile tugged at your lips. "I know what you meant. Sure," You said, stepping further into the room, sinking onto the soft cushions of the couch.

Jack sat beside you, throwing a blanket over the two of you. Without thinking, you moved closer, tucked your feet against his thigh, your shoulder brushing his. He didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned a little, adjusting, until his arm curled at your shoulder. When you tensed he just pulled you closer against him, asking you what you wanted to watch. You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, the kind of position that was intimate enough to feel comforting but just casual enough to be innocent. Jack’s hand moved automatically, draping over your waist, careful. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beating of his heart beneath your ear.

The movie Jack had picked played on, but you paid no attention to it, too absorbed in watching the man beside you. The way his jaw set when he focused, the way the corners of his eyes lifted when he laughed at stupid one-liners. His hand rested heavy and warm at your waist, tracing slow paths up and down your arm—movements that could pass as mindless, innocent enough to make you wonder whether you had misread everything, whether it was all in your head.

"Robby was so mean earlier," you whined against Jack's chest, the vibrations making his skin heat up.

"I know, sweetheart. He just...he worries. We both do." Jack's thumb pressed against your side, more to ground himself than you. You felt him breathe, slow and deep; chest rising beneath your cheek. For a second you felt at ease, like your proximity was normal, like you should be there.

You tilted your head just enough to look up at him. "But you were not mean."

Jack tilted his head down to look at you, suddenly becoming aware of how close you were, how perfectly your bodies fit together, how warm your skin was. He told himself it was nothing, that you were anxious and needed the comfort, that he could blame it all on it being a late night, or on Robby's anger.

"I believe the punishment should fit the crime. You're young, you should be getting drunk with your friends, should be going out," he murmured, brushing a soft kiss along your hairline before continuing. "What you should not be doing is risking your health, or your life, for a good time."

You hummed, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt. Jack swallowed, eyes flicking briefly to the staircase before focusing back on the television, which neither of you had been watching for a while.

You shifted slightly, pressing closer against his side. "You sound like my dad."

"I don't—" Jack huffed out a laugh, tilting his head back against the cushion.

"Oh, I’ve been such a bad girl," you teased, your voice low, almost breathless. "Are you going to punish me?"

You expected a laugh, maybe a snort, but all you got was silence. You noticed the way his breath hitched, the faint quickening of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It wasn’t the reaction you expected, not the one you should be getting out of him, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either. Pride bloomed warm in your chest at the thought that you could do this to him, make him flush and falter, just like you.

"It's late, you should go to bed." He cleared his throat and began to untangle his arm from your body.

Shit. You’d misread everything. The joke—which hadn’t even been that funny—had fully gone over his head, mistaken for something flirtatious. You could live with that. He was a good looking man, sensible and gentle too, it wasn't too far fetched to have a sliver of a crush on him. He just happened to be your father's friend, and you couldn't sleep with your father's friends, so you would take your curiosity to the grave.

What you couldn’t live with, however, was Jack being uncomfortable, thinking you’d come on to him like some weirdo. You’d gone too far. The week was going to be awkward and tense, terrible. If he hadn’t been slightly cold earlier, he certainly would be from then on. What kind of man would be okay with a girl half his age coming onto him? What were you even thinking?

You cleared your throat, trying to salvage some of your dignity. "I’m so sorry, Jack," you said, feeling your cheeks burn. "was just messing around—you know, like usual. I—"

"I know, I know. But it's late, and we are both tired. We should go to bed before we do something we regret, okay?" He craned his neck to meet your gaze, hooked two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face up when you refused to look at him.

When you finally looked up at him, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, you were shocked to find Jack smirking at you, his eyes narrowed with amusement. His thumb traced your bottom lip, his gaze still glued to your eyes. Shit, he had asked you a question. You nodded, mouth slightly agape.

"Yeah? You're not even listening anymore, are you, baby?" He cooed, mocking you.

You shook your head, no. Your pulse hammered when his fingers brushed your throat.

His gaze dropped to your lips, his thumb still tracing their curve. Without thinking, you sucked it into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you held his gaze. He was so close, invading all of your senses, turning your already tired brain into mush.

Jack’s eyes darkened, his breathing turning labored as he watched your mouth glide along his thumb, your tongue curling at the tip. The sight made his gut twist, all the frustration and desire he’d been keeping under lock and key rising to the surface.

His thumb slipped free from your lips with a wet pop, and before you could even gasp for air, you kissed him. Jack’s lips were chapped, and they tasted faintly of beer, which you only noticed when you deepened the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You felt his fingertips trail down the sides of your waist, felt the palm of one of his hands press against your stomach and push your shirt up, the other graze the waistband of your shorts, right below your navel. His touches were teasing as he licked inside your mouth.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and moved to straddle him, your thighs straddling his much thicker ones. His hands cupped your breasts as he kissed a path down your neck, stopping to lick at your sternum. Your fingers tangled in his curls when he took one of your nipples into his mouth and tugged when his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

Jack's hands moved down from your breasts to play with the waistband of your pants again, fingers barely dipping below it.

"Jack-" You whined, grinding your hips against his hand, trying to chase whatever friction you could, and he let you, dipping a finger between your folds tentatively.

He pumped two thick fingers in and out of you, slick dripping from them down to his palm, your thighs, the couch cushions. Neither of you seemed to care about the mess, or the noise, or the fact Robby was upstairs and could have heard it all. You had no energy to think about that then, all you could focus on was his touch, or his lips on yours quieting your cries.

You came quickly, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. It must have been from the exhaustion, you thought as you cuddled up to Jack's side. He grinned, taking his drenched fingers and sucking them into his mouth.

"You okay, honey?" He drawled.

You just hummed, nodding your head in agreement. You weren't sure what kind of noises would have come out if you attempted to speak then, probably high pitched and whiny blabbering.

"You should go talk to Robby," He pressed a kiss to your hairline, "at least just to say good night, hm?"

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

The walk upstairs was treacherous when your legs felt like a fawn's, but you ignored the ache and put one foot in front of the other until you reached the room where Robby was staying. You knocked on it twice, softly.

"Hey, uhm...it's me. I don't know if you're asleep yet, but I wanted to—" You didn't have time to finish the sentence before the door swung open.

The sight you were met with was nothing short of striking. Robby leaned against the doorframe, arms over his head, his sleep shirt riding up just enough to catch a glimpse of his happy trail.

"Apologize?" He finished your sentence for you, smiling. You could never tell if he was joking or laughing at you, it was infuriating, it made blood rush to your cheeks and arousal pool in your stomach.

"No. I wanted to say goodnight," you sighed before continuing, "and ask you if I could maybe come in to talk. I don't like arguing with you, uncle Robby...it's just..." You stopped yourself with a shallow breath.

He let you in shortly after that, led you to sit on the bed with a hand at the small of your back, dipping beneath your shirt. You felt awkward then, sitting all alone in such a big room. You were pretty sure Robby had heard you and Jack, but he wasn't saying anything, all he did was sit beside you and place a hand atop your thigh.

You avoided his gaze like the plague, suddenly interested in the guest bedroom in your childhood home, as if you hadn't seen it enough times. You noticed the paint chipping, the sun setting outside the window, the yellowish tint on the lampshade, all before he uttered a word.

"You know why we're here," He spoke matter-of-factly, "and you know it's for your own good, so what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, Robby." You muttered, your gaze fixed on the ground.

"Can't you have fun with Jack and I, hm?" He tilted your face upward slightly, not to force eye contact but to see the embarrassment in your face. He was practically confessing he had heard you, practically begging for a taste.

"I guess I can, yeah."

"Okay, so then we have fun." He flashed you a sleazy smile and, before you knew it, you were sat atop his thighs, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg, whining against his neck.

His hands gripped your waist with enough force to bruise as he moved you on his lap, his cock hardening beneath you. He kissed you with force, tongue sliding across your lips, licking into your mouth. Your fingers gripped at the hairs at the nape of his neck pulling slightly when the buildup in your core became noticeable.

"You had your fun with Jack already, did you?" He spoke between labored breaths.

You just nodded your head in response, your movements never faltering.

"It's only fair I get a turn now." He spoke before flipping you over and pinning you to the bed.

He quickly stripped you of your pajamas, your sweat soaked shirt and arousal drenched shorts ended up discarded in a corner of the room, shortly after joined by his own clothes.

He was big, bigger than you'd expected. It wasn't like you had thought about it a lot, but he was an attractive man, and so commanding, you sometimes wondered what it would be like to work for him, to call him doctor. You wondered what he would look like in scrubs, groaning during a procedure, and you wondered what he'd look like out of them, groaning in bed with you, fucking you deep against the mattress.

Your days of imagining and wondering were now over. He was lining his cock up with your entrance, his eyes seeking yours for approval, a hand caressing your cheek. "You okay?"

"Michael, if you don't fuck me right now I will—" Your words were cut off with a loud moan when you felt him thrust all the way inside you. A hand wrapped around your throat, with enough pressure to make your breathing labored, your vision blurred.

"Watch your tone, little girl." Robby's voice was loud, dripping in feigned anger. Or maybe it was real, and he was actually mad at you, and he cared about you enough to be angry and prove it to you, liked you enough to do it by fucking you.

"'m so-sorry," you gasped, wide eyed with your pupils blown, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth, dripping down your chin with every harsh thrust. "But you were mean earlier...so unfair."

Robby dipped two of his fingers in your mouth, they pushed against the back of your tongue, making you gag around them. You were so argumentative, so talkative, he couldn't even shut you up by choking you.

"I wasn't mean, baby, I was worried. Worried you would end up dead in an alley with some drunk." Robby panted, his thick cock sliding in and out of you. He was practically yelling at you, his free hand gripped your waist with so much force he would bruise you.

You gargled around his fingers, a choked complaint, an attempt to argue. You could hear faint footsteps in the hallway, heavy and uneven— Jack's, but laying right there beneath Robby you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Two knocks on the door and an "everything okay?" from Jack were not enough to snap either of you from your daze. You kept panting, biting at his fingers, attempting to argue.

He opened the door with urgency, expecting to break up an argument, expecting to have to put some distance between you, to have to carry you to bed, but the sight he was met with made him stop in his tracks.

You were spread out on the bed, bare skin glowing with sweat and drool, slick coating your thighs. Robby laid on top of you, one of his hands at your hip, the other in your mouth. He watched as you sucked on his fingers, he watched Robby's flushed cock go in and out of you.

"Jackie?" You called for him, whiny and high pitched, reaching a hand out for him, seeking comfort.

He ignored your pleas, walking over to the side of the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. "What the fuck, brother?" He drawled, cocking his head to the side.

Robby slowed down his thrusts, his fingers leaving your mouth to grip the sides of your face as he looked up at the other man, a smug grin on his face.

"You’re free to join if you want, man.” He drawled out, picking up his pace, thick fingers trailing down your face to wrap around your throat, the pressure was enough to make you moan with pleasure.

He didn't need to be told twice, his cock already straining against his pants, hot and leaking. He made quick work of pulling down his pants, jerking himself twice over your face. You leaned over to your side, mouth open for him, panting.

Your tongue slipped out almost unconsciously, soft lips wrapping around his pink tip. You licked a bold stripe down his shaft before taking him in your mouth as far back as you could. Jack's hands moved to grip your hair, not to push you but to steady himself. "fuck" he breathed out, voice low and raspy.

You moaned around him as you took him deeper, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth every time you gagged. Robby slowed his rhythm to watch you and Jack, focused on the way you moaned around him, on the way your tits bounced when you moved. He trailed his hand up to your chest, squeezing one of your tits, making you keen around Jack's shaft.

Robby’s grip on your hips tightened as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. His cock throbbed inside you, buried to the hilt as he rocked shallowly, letting you adjust around him. "Fuck, you take me so well," he growled, voice rough with want. "Like you were made for this."

Robby felt your walls tighten around him, felt your breathing pick up and heard your moans get louder. You gave up sucking on Jack's cock as you got closer to your peak, your orgasm making your vision blur. You were not quite sure who's hands were on you anymore, as they lifted you up and set you on the bed on all fours, gripping at your waist to keep your wobbly legs from giving up on you. You heard them speak behind you, heard the rustling of bedsheets.

Jack chuckled from above you, his fingers brushing your waist. "Bet she could take us both at once," he mused, watching the way your legs shook, the way you shuddered and arched your back at his touch. "You wanna try that, baby? Show us how good you can be?"

You gasped when Jack’s palm landed sharp on your ass, the sting making you arch. "Please—"

"Please what?" Robby’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned over you, Jack stood beside him, his hands gripping at your thighs. "Use your words, baby. Tell us exactly what you want."

You whined with embarrassment. "Both of you—fuck— want both of you to fuck me."

Jack groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. "Greedy fucking girl." But his hands were already guiding his cock to your sopping hole, sinking in slowly, inch by inch until he bottomed out. Not long after, Robby’s fingers dug into your waist as he pressed in beside him, filling you completely. The stretch burned, overwhelming, their cocks pressed together inside you, making your vision blur.

Tears pricked at your lash line when they began to move, not really thrusting, more like grinding inside you. Strong hands pressed you to the mattress.

Your breath came in shattered little gasps as they moved, slowly, every inch of them against your oversensitive walls. Robby’s groan was ragged in your ear, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle it as Jack cursed above you, his fingers twisting in your hair to keep your head angled back.

You could feel both of them—the way Robby’s cock twitched against Jack’s inside you, the way Jack’s thighs trembled where they pressed against yours, both of them fighting to keep the pace slow and steady.

"Fuck, she’s—" Jack’s voice cracked, his hips stuttering forward instinctively before he forced himself back to that grinding rhythm. "Robby, move—"

Robby’s response was a dark chuckle, his hand sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit as they finally, finally picked up speed. The stretch burned so good, their thrusts now uneven, desperate—Jack driving deep while Robby pulled nearly all the way out just to slam back in, over and over until the only thing you knew was that you were full and tired, tears streaking your cheeks as pleasure coiled tighter in your stomach.

Jack's rhythm stuttered, hips jerking erratically as his fingers tightened in your hair, tight, stinging. The bite of pain sharpening the pleasure coiling low in your belly. "Fuck—" His voice was raw, gutted, as he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing inside you, spilling with a groan that sounded almost pained.

Robby wasn’t far behind. His thrusts turned punishing, the slick slap of skin deafening as he chased his own release. "Look at her," he snarled—at Jack, at you, you weren’t sure. That was your undoing; your walls clenched around them both, dragging a ragged curse from Robby as he came, his cock twitching against Jack’s inside you, both of their hands dug bruises into your skin, bruises you would surely love to see in the morning, standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a sleepy smile.

For a heartbeat, the room was nothing but panting breaths and the drip of cum and sweat onto the sheets beneath you.

Then Robby’s grip eased, his palm smoothing over the marks he’d left as he murmured, "see? I knew you could behave." against your spine.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

taglist: @prettywritergirl, @saint-ligeia