xinya

20

[ifawns]

jack abbot loves when you tell him how much you love him during sex. he’s so cocky about it, holdin your legs up and grunting out a “yeah? you love me? i love you too, baby” before he’s cumming inside you seconds later. there’s just something about you being so fucked out, pawing at him and trying to hold onto anything while he pounds into you, yet still being so fuckin’ sweet and babbling ‘i love you’s between thrusts that really gets to him.

[ephietalo]

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH // JACK ABBBOT // DENNIS WHITAKER

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

⤷ //. cw: foursome, daddy kink, sir kink, fauxcest, puppy play . //

a hand was sent flying across your now reddened rear, firm and exact in its delivery.

“can’t leave the two of you alone for one fucking minute.”

abbot cursed under his breath, aggravation instilled in his every word and breath as his hand cracked once more on your ass.

“think it’s fucking cute, don’t you? disobeying my rules?”

he then grabbed a fistful of your hair, cruel in its grasp as he bent your neck upwards, causing your back to arch downward into his lap.

“c’mon then! tell me why you two couldn’t wait for another damn hour.” huffing, he released your hair, glaring back at the other man who was staring at the entire scene on his knees.

dennis was still in his briefs, shirt stripped and discarded somewhere on the kitchen floor. your own clothes must have been strewn somewhere there as well, because you were left to wear a now ruined pair of panties and a lacy brassiere.

glancing over to your brother, you pleaded. lips quivering as you mouthed to him not to tell.

but as your eyes met—finding those pitiful blues now hooded in shame—you knew then that his loyalties lied with your owners instead of his own sister.

“i-it was her idea, sir..” dennis mumbled, hands firm on his knees as he hoped and willed for his cock to soften within his briefs. knowing well enough that abbot could see how the tip was now leaking and soiling the cloth.

“is that right?”

his attention then returned to your ass, cupping the fat as he massaged the reddening swell.

“he-he was hard! i-i just wanted to help..” you squeaked without thinking, soon realizing that you were now in deeper shit than before.

because dogs don’t speak unless spoken to. and abbot wasn’t talking to you. wasn’t even looking to you.

and when his gaze settled on your now worried face, the man smirked.

because prior to this, dennis had been placed in that horrible cage—a punishment for an earlier crime—wearing nothing but that same pair of briefs and a shirt. and the poor boy had been whimpering for hours, his cock weeping through the slit of his underwear, horny like a mutt in heat.

and you were the kind little pup who wanted to help their big brother, wanted to offer your cunt so his cum won’t have to be spilled on the cage floor.

cause that would be such a waste, and it’s never good to put such things to waste.

“really?” abbot chuckled, the sound rumbling from his throat as his roughened palm squeezed your now sensitive ass, “so you thought it was fine to let your brother out from his cage? so what? so his stupid cock won’t be lonely?”

clicking his tongue, his hand then cracked on your ass once more—harder this time—as the pain made your lungs swell and expand. the sound now echoing through the living room walls.

“expected more from you, sweetie. you’re supposed to be the smart one.” he said as he grasped at your jaw, making you meet his gaze.

tears were now streaming down your cheeks, skin as red as your now abused ass,

“t-thought i-i was helping, sir… he-he—“

SMACK!

and you cried out once more, body now shaking from both the pain and the impact—throat becoming more sore,

“i-i’m so-sorry, sir.. pl-please..”

but the older man had no mercy in his gaze, even as he watched those tears trickle from your cheeks. watched as your bottom lip quivered and your breath hiccup.

“dennis.”

abbot called, earning your brother’s immediate attention—back straightening in hopes that he could relieve you from his wrath.

“briefs off. now.”

and without hesitation, the other man stripped himself until he was bare, his hardened cock standing at full mast—your own gaze attached to the swollen tip.

he stood there for a moment, waiting for abbot to tell him to sit. and when he was given the command, he then went back on his knees, sitting on the heels of his feet. obedient as ever.

but before abbot could continue his discipline, the door to the house opened, with robby walking in from his shift.

the man was in his usual mood, somewhat cheerful since he was home, but that immediately shifted when he saw what was happening in front of him.

his cute little girl laying across his husband’s lap, ass beaten red and his boy kneeling on the floor naked.

it seems that abbot didn’t even bother to tell him about their most recent act of disobedience.

“hey…” michael greeted, tone cautious as he set aside his bag on the kitchen counter, noticing the clothes strewn across the floor.

your camisole laying near the counter, your skirt near the refrigerator door, and dennis’s t-shirt atop of your discarded socks.

“ahh..” the older man said, looking back to abbot’s expectant gaze.

“guess someone decided to let their brother out of the cage, huh? got lonely or something, sweetie?”

robby then approached the couch where you and abbot have been this entire time, arms now resting on the back cushions as his gaze traveled across your curved spine and your ruined rear.

“n-no, daddy! j-just wanted to help de-denny… was whimpering so much throughout the afternoon and..”

biting down your bottom lip, your tear stained eyes flickered between your handlers.

but robby was quiet. assessing. and letting you continue.

“—and i, uhm… told him that he could… cum inside so he doesn’t have to be so hard..”

at that admission, jack scoffed and shook his head.

and without warning, he then lifted you off his lap and tossed you to the floor beside dennis—the carpet cushioning your fall as the man stood at his full height.

“if you wanna be a little cum bucket so bad, sweetie.” slowly, he undid the buckle to his belt, “then i’ll fill that fucking needy cunt myself.”

glancing over to his husband, jack then cocked his head to the side.

a silent invitation.

and who was robby to decline?

…might write a second parter to this, still unsure.

[bleghbarbie]

꣖ mdni! ꣓ 💬 .. ꕤ * .ﾟ thinking abt gross, pervy !rabbot neighbors who jus wan a third..

fauxcest. head empty reader

u jus moved in next door nd decide to bake them some pastries to say hello. nd u didnt need to come in, but they immediately liked what they saw. little cutie at their doorstep, lacy bra peeking underneath ur babydoll top, little skirt twirling as u twisted side to side, wide eyes looking up at them, excited nd giddy to say hi.

so they tell u, they have no business eating all of the sweets by themselves, not with their age nd all, so ure more than happy to step in and taste some with them. robby’s opening the little box as jack circles u, taking peeks at ur body. tells u ur skirt is cute. how u look like a daughter hes never had, just wants to scoop u up nd put u in his pocket. nd u love the attention. from these two attractive men? yeah.

when u guys start eating, robby asks u how many sweets u usually eat. tsks then tells u “u better be taking care of ur teeth. if ur dad isnt reminding u, i will. be a better one than him.” nd ure smiling, agreeing ur dad doesnt remind u. nd jack’s still behind u, sniffing at u. “smell so good. better than the sweets. mind if i have a little bite?” nd u love!! when people compliment ur scent!

so jack jokingly nibbles at ur neck, placing his hands on ur waist to steady himself, groping nd squeezing where he doesnt have to. “what if i jus ate u instead? my pretty new daughter?” theyre both all smiles like what theyre saying is normal. ♡

“u guys are so silly!” u look to robby whos stepped closer, a hand rubbing over his groin. “no, ure silly, silly goose. u like how jack’s touching u? let dad know it feels good.”

“jack..? it does feel nice.. whats ur name?” u pay no mind to ur skirt lifting at the back, something prodding at u, rubbing all over ur panties. u feel so.. safe with them. u dont mind at all.

“can u say daddy, baby?” robby pulls himself out, stroking right in front of u, watching jack’s hands wander to ur front, groping at ur tits. “daddy nd.. jack?” u look back to the man, feeling ur underwear lower and jack spreading ur cheeks, slipping in.

“no, no, baby. cant call me by my first name, not polite. if ure my sweet little girl, then that makes me..?” he raises a brow, waiting for ur answer. u feel so proud of urself when the lightbulb goes off in ur head. “dad!” u answer excitedly.

hes all smiles, guiding ur hand to robby’s cock, moving it a leisure pace, letting u get used to it. “good job, baby. my smart little lady.. can u see how hard daddy is? ure helping him so much by touching. keep going, ure gonna make it alll better. ure such a quick learner, howd we get so lucky?” he presses a kiss to ur head.

u giggle at the praise, quickly gasping, “are u.. hard too? how do i make it better?” u whine. such a people pleaser. hes quick to shush nd reassure u, “u are, sweetheart. but instead of u touching, dad’s touching. hes got his big man part in ur pretty pussy, yeah? he feels so much better already. ure so tight for dad, so good, dont worry.”

ure biting ur lip, so happy ure making them feel good. what a good idea u had. ur neighbors needed u more than u thought! ♡

[jackabbotsgf]

tw: fauxcest, ickyyyy

stepdad!robby fucking his sweet step daughter for the first time, taking his time corrupting her.

just before he slides his thick, angry cock inside her aching hole, he tips her chin down, beckoning her to open up, then spits on her tongue and forces her to swallow.

when he finally starts to guide his tip inside, he's teasing her, knowing just how bad she wants it, wants to hear his pretty little girl beg first,

"ohh honey- dunno if i can fit, this baby cunt might just be too tight..."

"mmgh- no, daddy! it'll fit, promise!"

she's whining, clawing at his shoulders to try pull him in, before he finally does, popping his step daughters cherry like a perverted old man.

"feel me in your tummy, honey? that feel good?" robby coos, pressing his big hand over her stomach, right where the bulging outline of his cock is.

you're too fucked out to answer, the mix of the pain from the stretch, and the pleasure of his tip hitting right where you're sensitive causing you to whine pathetically, unable to process all the filthy things your stepdad is whispering in your ear.

"gonna ruin you for anybody else sweetie, gonna mold this pussy around my cock 'til she only knows me- she knows who her daddy is, doesn't she? can tell by how wet 'n messy she's getting..."

"you like when i talk like this, honey? didn't know my little girl was such a perv."

[daughterbubs]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐄 ᭥ ❤︎ 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐓 ༝

◞ daughterbubs ⭐︎ ︎2026 ༝

꒰ ⟡ 𝟣𝟪+ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 ⸝ 𝒄𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝒘𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗏𝖾 , 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗍 . . heavy fauxcest . established relationship . daddy ᵎᵎ jack abbot . female ᵎᵎ reader . use of dad , daddy , dada . use of little one , baby , daughter . fingering . unprotected piv penetration . male ﹠ female orgasms . fluff . comfort . lots of love . all characters are 𝟤𝟣 years or older ﹠ consenting adults . .

꒰ ⟡ 𝒔𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : jack comes home from the nightshift to a father’s day surprise ❤︎ 𝟦.𝟥k words .

꒰ ⟡ 𝒏𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 : happy dad day , remember to care for yourself on this holiday ; it can be difficult to get through ‘nd i wish all the love to those struggling on this date ❤︎

Jack never anticipated celebrating such a holiday, not one in the sanctitude and piety of paternity. He’d never been a father, had never had children, and there simply was no need to. It was just another date in the solitary stalk towards summer. Another day on the calendar, another night shift, another twenty-four hours, swallowed away in June's fierce, endless appetite. Until you’d arrived in his life, and spun away his nonchalance and apathy for existence itself. You’d twirled and twisted away his isolation, churning and melding it to a memory, pitted and indwelled in his mind. When Jack became a Dad, his life became one of devotion. A life of adornment and doting, of coaxed cuddles and blossomed cheeks. Providing and nurturing you was one of the greatest pleasures he had ever known. It hemmed the tattered linings of the past, the pain of loss, grief, and harrow, and had harmonized it into something that hurt less. He was both honored and enamoured at the privilege of being both a partner, and a parental figure.

But even so, he held no expectations, no conception of commemorations. In many formalities of your relationship, there was communication, an understanding, and trust of things left unspoken. And he believed this to be one of those times, just a silent agreement for nothing celebratory. He did not mention Father’s Day at all. In fact, Jack didn’t track the date or mark it off — over five decades around the sun left him indifferent to antedating what he’d previously regarded as a regular Sunday. And you didn’t mention it either; although, your reasoning was much less spiritless, and more for the sake of surprise. He perceived it to be just another weekend, of whirling warm air, and sweet praises offered in whispers. Of cuddles and kisses, that turned a little carnal with a bit too much touch, like every other tender-hearted, tempting, and entirely loving moment he spent with you. Nothing special, except for what you already sowed and surrendered to him.

Jack didn’t expect anything, except for your sleepwarm body, soaking softness and your sweetened scent into his sheets. He was excited — as he is every shift — to shuck off his prosthesis, slip into your embrace, until the exhaustion showered over his every tendon, muscle, and bone.

Day commenced itself on his drive home when the sky birthed the sunrise. Its clouds steeped over in rich strokes of crisp orange and hot-pink blush, and Jack thought of you. Well. He nearly always mused about his sweet girl. You’re a constant visage, veiling over most things that thread through his mind. In particular, Jack wondered what would be covering your skin when he’d arrived home — would it be the shimmering satin pajamas he’d dressed you in before his shift? Or had you shed bare before getting some shut eye? He doesn’t have to ponder long; his truck eats at the concrete, and his commute comes to a close all too soon.

Everything is average when Jack pulls into the driveway. The curtains are drawn taut, barricaded up for the brutal beams of sun. The lawn is coated in a thick blanket of fresh greenery, from when he’d spread grass seeds to sprout earlier in the spring. Jack smiles fondly at the simplicity of his front yard. Because it is simple, and it shouldn’t make him grin so hard, but it does. It was only just weeks ago that you’d sheared up and desecrated the earth around his house. Things were wilted and perished from neglect and previous tragedy. Untamed, until you’d cloven away the barren, upheaved dirt and old weeds, roots and pebbles, and with effort, you’d planted a garden. And those floralities embraced Jack now, each time he returned from a shift — honeyed petals of lillium, swirling within a sea of pink and purple blooms, and a testament of his house becoming yours, too. A house turned home once more.

Jack passes by the full flourish, in full anticipation that you’d be asleep. Deep in slumber, in his sheets. But when the front door is unlocked, the scent of breakfast bacon, maple, immediately imbues through his nose. You’re awake. You’re up. And you’re cooking. At this godforsaken hour, when you should be asleep, not adrenalized when the birds are just beginning to coo and sing, when the dew is just now bubbling on blades of grass, and when he’s just walking through the door from another grueling work shift. You should be beneath the covers, in silk-like pajamas, and soothed by the white-noise ambience you can't sleep without. But you’re conscious and bright-eyed, gracelessly sprinting from the kitchen to greet him as soon as you hear the door unlatch and open. Jack is encased in your hug before he can even speak. Your arms cradle the back of his neck, coiling the silver and auburn curls at the base of his head, still dampened from the shower he took at the hospital post-shift. He sighs, pressing broad palms over the soft satin that shrouds your back. He thinks it’s silly, how much you ground him. Root him in presence and moment, and absolve distress. It’s silly how easy you manage to serenade him, subdue his apprehension, and provide him with something of sate and soothe. He can feel your smile, and his nerves react in a mirrored response.

“hi, dad!” You beam, delved into his chest, and breathing in deep aspirations of his scent.

Jack chuckles at your puerility – it never gets old, how you burrow and seam into his side, as soon as he arrives. “Hey, kiddo… why are you up?”

You don’t respond with the obvious – the one of holiday and the celebratory – you just kiss him on the cheek and grin, gripping his freckled arm to steer him to the kitchen. “i made you breakfast!” You state, in that plaintive folderol manner Jack is all too accustomed to.

“Yeah, I know.” Jack chuckles, the sound all play and sweetness. “Could smell it before I walked through the door.”

He stops walking when he enters the scene. There’s coffee freshly brewing, from a bag you’d caught him inspecting at the grocery store last month – the ‘fancy’ one, with notes of black currant and jasmine, and an exorbitant price tag that he couldn’t justify purchasing. So you did. There are pancakes and bacon, heated maple syrup and scrambled eggs to accompany the cup being made. There’s a bouquet of flowers, because, naturally, a partner as attentive and adoring as Jack deserves fresh blooms gifted to him in appreciation. Beside it is a gift box, tied up in a cerulean ribbon bow, sparkling in the fresh morning light.

Something thrashes in his chest then. Something smothering and thick, that crawls up his throat and into a conspiring, throttling lump that settles itself in a sinus-pulse.

“Baby… wh– what’s all this?” He half chokes on the words, watching you spring up to pour the dark, hot brew into a #1 Dad mug. “You’re supposed to be asleep, not spoiling your old man at dawn.”

“it’s father’s day,” you sweetly say, tossing a smile back to him. “need to celebrate my dad.”

Jack scrubs a hand over his face in an attempt to stifle the emotion that bubbles and boils in his tear ducts. The way you still slough away his defenses and make him bleed such sensitivities. “Oh, kid… You didn’t need to do all this, you know?”

“course i did – you do everything for me. it’s your day.” You shuffle back to him, passing the mug into his palm — black with no sugar, just how he likes.

Your words are like a syringe of the purest sincerity, sugared and sentiment and truth. Because he does do everything, in tutelage and adulation. Jack tranquilizes your tears, from tantrums to anxieties; he’s trialing in restoration and consolation. He’s a caretaker, fundamentally, coaxing your habits for the better. Ones of nutrition and hydration, of proper rest and play. He bears both roles, of the parental and the romantic, of re-raising you in the delicate, dedicated ideal of your partnership. Jack loves you, he wants what’s best for his baby, and he knows precisely how to tend to any plight.

He swallows down the ball in his throat, but it remains fused and furling up more vehemence, even as he feigns complacency.

“Yeah, yeah.” He smiles with slight acquiescence. “I do, kiddo. I know.”

Jack lets you drag him to the dining table, sipping on his extravagant coffee as you serve him his plate with a smile and a kiss.

“You know, Daddy’s supposed to be caring for you. Don’t need my little girl coddling me.”

“don’t give me that – we care for each other." You insist, and Jack sighs with a chuckle. He has no counterpoint there; It's true, you do. There’s no lack or imbalance; you provide for Jack in all the ways he never asks for out loud. And, on this syrup-scented, early Sunday morning, he’s subjugated to face your immense care for him, completely head-on.

“Yeah. Guess you got me there.” He concedes, allowing a smile to tug at his tired lips before gesturing for you to curl up on his spread thighs. “C’mere. Need my baby with me.”

You gleam, tucking yourself into his lap as Jack kisses the crown of your head. “Thank you, little one. Really.” Jack smiles with graciousness, rubbing your back with one hand while the other pokes and feeds a bite of pancake into his mouth.

“of course.. s’it good, daddy?” You inquire, reaching up to kiss and nuzzle into his neck.

“Mm. Delicious. My kid’s gonna get best daughter of the year award at this rate.” You giggle, and Jack squeezes your side. The morning is pursued in all its vicious sweetness – Jack chews, eats, and swallows, and you trace the lines in his face, finger-comb his salt and pepper locks, and purl out the devoted praise and joy you have for him. His heart trusses up and throbs harder in such soft, gentle conversation. Nothing feels warmer or kinder than you in his lap, closest and cradled against him. Where you belong, and where he does, too.

Honeyed sunbeams only just begin to thread through the blinds when you usher Jack into the bedroom for undressing. Your hands tangle beneath his waistband, prising off pants, before lowering to his prosthesis. A kiss is planted on his knee, and you release the pin and the pressure within the device. Your hands gently slip off the socket with intentional and adept ease, and you grab the vitamin-infused lotion to massage the sore muscles and seam of his scar. Jack groans as your fingers tend to the sore, slightly irritated tissue. Your touch and care for his residual limb nearly always elicits a less-than-pure reaction. He can’t help it, not with your hands rubbing below his joint, and creeping up to his thigh to mend where the muscles compressed in stress.

Your sweetness at dawn surely didn’t aid him, either. Neither did your commencing squirms as he finished up breakfast. Jack has been sensitive since, and it’s now suffused itself up through his nerves, residing in sharp spikes of heat to his inner thighs. You don’t notice the hips shifting in attempts to alleviate ache, nor his breaths, growing slightly quicker. You just rub with affection, before flourishing to the pastel gift package he’s still yet to open. The ribbon almost glares back at him in mockery – the only thing he wants to unbox, press fingers in, and spread is you.

“Mm.. That for me?” Jack mutters through half-lidded eyes, glancing down at the gift. The man is currently much more enthralled with the sensuous press of your hands instead.

“mhmm. “s’your father’s day present.” You innocently smile once more, massaging your thumb into a particularly stressed tendon that makes him grunt in pleasure. “wanna open it?” You plead up at him with wide, happy eyes. Jack’s own contrast entirely. The hazel is heated, darker than normal, pooled thick with something more than courtesy or sleepiness.

“Later, baby. I want to just enjoy you for now.” His hand already is curving itself around your smaller wrist, wrapping it up and away from where you’d attempted to quell tension; Apparently, you incidentally just spurred it elsewhere. Jack tugs you gently across the linen sheets, his hands sloping under your satin pajama top to graze your waist. His lips meet yours, gentle and slow. His silvered stubble prickles into your chin when he prods for your lips to part. Obediently, you do, allowing your Dad access as his palms cradle your body firmly. When he pulls away with puffy lips, it’s to mutter between his kisses.

“Want to appreciate my little girl.”

“o– oh..” Your cheeks react in a fierce tint, flustered suddenly from his pronounced desire. You shift, and you find yourself burying your head into his shoulder, shielding yourself from his stare.

“Uh oh..” Jack laughs soft, although his tone is still rasped with arousal. “What are we doing over there?”

“i dunno… just– you're workin’ me up, dada.” You admit, pressing yourself harder against the expanse of his pec.

“Oh, yeah, kid? I’m working you up, huh? How do you think your old man’s felt for the last half hour?”

You don’t respond, flushing worse to such an admission. You weren’t entirely aware of his arousal, of being hard nearly this whole time due to your loving affection. Your Dad’s adverse reaction makes something pulse and swivel down, deep into your little pussy. Jack receives a whine in response.

“No. Words, baby. I taught you better than that.” Jack says, slightly stern, but his voice is dimmed by the rubs along the bare flesh of your back. A means to comfort, because he knows his shy girl needs it.

“you– you want me, dad?” You whimper, lifting your face from his chest.

“Want you?” He reverberates. “Jesus, kid.” His fingers depart from your shirt, gripping your tangibly smaller hand to descend it to his groin. He’s undeniably hard, pulsing through navy blue boxers, bulged and thickened, and you inwardly scold yourself for persistent innocence and your lapse of even noticing. Your fingers press into his cock, eyes drawn and stilled to how filled out and stiff he is through fabric. “Course I want you.”

You exhale a forced huff, shedding off slight reluctance. You start to arch your digits, to dig slightly deeper into his sensitive dick, just to feel his hips twitch. “you want your daughter?” You ask in faux naivety and provocation.

Jack groans through his teeth, clasping your palm harder against where he’s throbbing. He can feel his tip nudge, reacting to the heat and pressure, and the lust for more.

“Fuck. Yeah. I want my daughter. It’s Father’s Day. Like you said.”

Jack doesn’t spare a moment more; he’s pressing himself against you, baring your body undressed and supple against his. Hands tease the peaks of your nipples as he kisses you, heavy and slightly rough. His tongue glides into your mouth, tangling with yours as his lips work in persistent presses to swallow up your whimpers. A praise is offered on his lips when he departs.

“Such a good girl – going all out for your Dad.” You nod, raising hips for your naked, dripping little cunt to make contact with his still-clothed erection.

“Ohhh, look at that.” Jack muses fondly at your all-too-familiar ruts. “Someone’s eager.” His fingers still your hips, pushing you down as you whine, before swathing over to where you’re slickened and reddened.

“Want Daddy inside that sweet little pussy?” Jack grins, rubbing over your wet, weeping slit, feeling your flesh pulse under his touch.

When you nod with whines, and then correct with a verbal “yes, please,” Jack provides. His thumb frictions itself over your eager bundle of nerves, feeling it swell with need during each grind. Two fingers slowly enter your heat — although, your bucking hips make it hard for the plunge to remain seamless and steady.

“There we go. Attagirl, just let me stretch you out. Need to make room for your Dad to fit in.”

His digits curl, pressing into where you’re sticky and throbbing, deep against your walls. Jack knows exactly where to pivot his wrist to get you white-visioned and drooling. You’re nearly there already with each pass he makes, stroking up into your gooey warmth, gentle and coarse all at the same time. Your hole is already fluttering, fervent with want for something more, something filling to frot and pump itself in your sweet, puffy cunt. Right now, it’s prep, so you won’t be so sore or shuddering with pain after, but it’s also too much. For the both of you. Jack realizes too late that his sweet baby is about to cum — he’s been harsh and rushed with his fingers, attempting to stretch you out and slicken you down to your puckered ass. But when your thighs begin their shake, and you start to thrash, he still doesn’t stop. Over and over, up to his knuckles, he drills his finger pads into plush, sensitive muscles, feeling your poor, swollen pussy clench and clasp, molding to his fingers in each expertising press. Your whines pitch louder, shrill and incessant. His thumb welds to your clit, curling in and massaging the bud between each rough fuck of his fingers. “Shh. S’okay, kiddo. Know you’re there. Let me see my daughter cum for me.”

The depravity gets you there entirely. His words are white-hot and bloom into your belly. They spark down your spine and spiral into heat, through to your cunt for your nerves to alight further. With your Dad’s fingers, injected up into your sticky, pulsating pussy, you orgasm, writhing and shaking, looking up at him, hazy-eyed and docile.

“Ohh, there’s my baby.” Jack chuckles. “Bet that felt real good, huh?”

When you nod, he smiles, starting to slip his hand away from your needy hole. Your swelled, sloppy cunt clenches in attempts to keep him deep, but gently, Jack twists his digits free, groaning as he views your wet cream, coated in rivulets on his digits and trickling down his palm.

They pop into his mouth, and he laps at them while pulling off his boxers. His cock twitches in the cold air of the bedroom, reacting and risen with throbs against his lower belly. He’s so hard it hurts. So desperate to drive into his little one’s hot, sloppy pussy. The pressure beats at his base, cascading down to his inner thighs, and stirs at the base of his spine. His balls are weighed with the need to cum already, precum shamelessly slickening down and beading at his trussed and greying pubic hairs. His hands grip your thighs, pressing them up and against your belly, folding you in half to dip his thick dick in as deep as possible.

Jack’s wet, fat tip makes contact with your slit, stretching around where you’re already shivering for more. You’re slippery and warm, and it makes Jack moan with the sensation, your sweet babycunt already attempting to suckle him in. He lets it. In a languid plunge, he impales his cock into his daughter’s pleading hole. You’re still a little too tight, slowly adjusting, but teary-eyed with his thick girth and the unrelenting pressure of him slotting in your sloppy pussy. “That’s it — fuck — That’s Dad’s good baby.”

You’re whining, choking out moans as Jack rubs your bulb of nerves to stifle some of the ache away. It burns all throughout your nerves, puddling in rapid palpitations inside you. Jack thrusts once, without clemency, helpless and eager, and his hand fists in your hair roughly before he forces himself to relax.

“Fuck, kiddo — tight.” Jack prattles out with a hiss, as if he’s fucked dumb from the compress your soft pussy delivers. “So tight.”

He can hear how wet your sodden hole is, sticky and squelching, even with his slow, measured grinds and his hold beneath your thighs. He can feel it too, a rush and glob of arousal, slipping from where you’re connected. Hot and sticky, and he knows it would taste sweet and musked like you, too.

“Love this dribbly little cunt— love it. Love you, baby.” Jack babbles through rasped bursts of breath. His hips roll against yours, tummy to tummy, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as his body shivers. It’s intimate and close, and in an abnegating attempt to not rut into his kid like an animal. His eyes remain closed, clutching you tight, flesh on flesh, until his orgasm forms too fast, from too little time inside you. Jack can't take it; his baby just feels like heaven. He thinks maybe it is. Maybe his salvation is on top of you, under you, any way he can receive what you so blessedly offer him. He’s too close, and he’s going to cum.

He angles his length for his cockhead to pummel into that spongy, sensitive place inside you, rubbing your bulbed clit just to get you to feel as much pleasure as he is. “Feel it? Feel it, baby? Ngnnh— Dad pressin’ on your special little spot?” Jack moans, panting on your shoulder as his pelvis turns unrelenting, feeling the sheath of your pussy pulsate, tighten, and tense for an orgasm.

“Need— need my little girl,” he nearly whines, and the desperation in his voice surrenders you to cum in quivering bucks against your Dad. He coats your insides plentifully, in propulsions of his thick, hot cum, streaming from his slit and stuffed deep into the wet heat of your cunt. It trickles out between your hole and his dick, forced out each time Jack rams into you in aftershock. It’s breathless, defenseless and devoted, and it’s all him. He doesn’t stop until his cock begins to soften, until your eyes peek open with daze. Only then is he able to swallow a proper breath and press a long, hard press of his lips to yours.

“I love you, my daughter.” He says softly, looking into the blank stare of your eyes and parted mouth. You hiccup under him, and he sighs, watching you gather enough sense to talk again in time.

“i— love you too, dad,” you manage in a stammer after a few shudders and gasps. Jack smiles, cradling you to him, kissing your forehead, before delicately prying his soaked, sticky, and flushed cock out from your pussy. He groans with the clasping swallow of your cunt, trying to keep him in, despite knowing he’ll be deep inside once more, in just a few hours, and grunts with exhaustion when the absence of pleasure bleeds into fatigue.

Jack pulls up your limpet, damp and debauched bare form over his chest. Close and secure, encased against him. He rubs over the swells of your spine and bottom cheeks, consoling with comfort, his palms petting lightly into tired flesh. You remain stilled, pressing kisses into the skin you can reach.

Eventually, when you’re ripe to talk again, it’s exuded first in a warm giggle. From where you’re swaddled against his sternum, you reach over for the gift box — still awaiting on the sheets, as if you both weren’t shaking the bedpost minutes ago.

You place it beside you, pressed onto Jack’s chest as a facile, single word, is slipped from your lips, “present!”

Jack sighs, his mouth upturned as a hand departs from your back to open the pastel and ribboned package.

“Really did not have to get me anything. Getting to spend time with my little one is more than enough.”

Nevertheless, he peels open the cover, pulling his bottom lip taut between his teeth when he lifts a practical, silver-banded watch from tissue paper. It’s smooth and cool in his palm, nothing overly sophisticated, but also too extravagant to be inexpensive. It’s more than an upgrade to the faulty black band he’d purchased at Walmart many years ago. The finish reflects, sparkling in the white light of a rising sun behind curtains.

“Kid, this is–” Jack’s eyes meet yours, commiserating and soft, his expression tied between surprise and endearment. The weight of it stills in his hand as he thumbs over the metal. “This is way too nice for an old guy like me. You really shouldn’t have spent so much.”

You smile, shifting up higher against his sticky chest, your hands curling against his sparse, silvering hair. “look on the inside, dada.”

And he does. And against the inner band is a small engraving, cut deep enough for him to gauge without his readers: ‘with love, forever, your little one.’ It’s simplistic, and yet, still achingly sweet. And it’ll always be there, carved into silver, just like you cleaved your way into him. You both are silent except for small breaths, and carefully, you clasp the shimmering band over his wrist, turning the clock-head to watch it properly tick against flesh. Jack just stares at it, and then at you.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, sweetie. Really. It’s perfect.” He smiles, cheek to cheek, his mouth and eyes creasing in those deep, rich lines you adore so much. His freckle-burst biceps curve around you, tucking you closer to his chest. “My perfect girl. Thank you.”

“you like it, daddy?”

“More than like, little girl. Love it. Jesus, I— I didn’t expect all this for Father’s Day, you know?”

“i know but.. if anyone deserves it, it's you.”

Once more, Jack doesn’t have words for you. His softhearted, selfless daughter. Is there a word for being too touched, too enamoured?

“Baby. You’re too sweet to me.” He laughs lightly; the vibration oscillates through your own muscles in the skin-to-skin contact. “I must be raising you right.”

“you are.” You assent, all smiles, planting a kiss on his pink lips once more.

And Jack knows that to be true. You’re his faith, and in the swirling of his heart, in the heat of your hand in his, he knows that this is his heaven. That although unsaid, it’s sacred, warm, and true. It’s endless and bound – preaching, in his gentle paternity, teaching, and providing to you – as a lover, as a father, and a partner.

[iheartshawn]

you broke your stepdad!jack ♡ and he finally acted on his urges. he would not let himself be bullied by his stepdaughter for any longer, not anymore.

𓊆 cw: stepcest, dad / daddy kink, age gap, mean jack for like 5 seconds, softdom!jack, sub!reader, virgin!reader, frottage, crude language ('dadcock', 'virgin pussy'), baby talking, a little dumbification 𓊇

he dragged you by the arm to the bedroom, and tossed you onto the bed — the same bed he shares with his wife, your mother. it's been a while since she's been intimate with jack but you did not need to know that.

excitement bubbled up inside you as he carefully dragged his hands all over the exposed skin of your calves to your thighs. "is this what you want?" he breathed.

you hurriedly nodded your head, your throat suddenly felt dry.

"doesn't sound like it, babygirl. you've been begging me for so long," jack shook his head as if he's disappointed in you. "do you want your dad to touch you or not?" his voice firm and commanding, his expression hard and cold — like he was scolding a child.

you licked your lips and cleared your throat to give yourself some time to calm down, "y–yes." you whispered quietly. then you tried again with more confidence, "yes, dad. please, touch me."

the last thing you wanted was to upset jack even further. so when he hummed in approval, something in your chest lifted.

his expression softened, still gently caressing the smoothness of your legs. "is she crying again for me, sweetheart?" his voice was so sweet and his eyes are so kind, you could cry too.

you whined out a, "yes." while jack coos at you, "yeah? poor baby. can i make her feel better? tell me how."

"mhm, she needs your dadcock."

jack froze. oh, that did something to him. he gripped the meat of your thighs, his breathing came out harsh and ragged. fuck.

"we gotta do something about that mouth of yours next time."

he released his hold on you, continuing his ascent as he bunched up the hem of your dress. it revealed your very modest panties to him — lace-trimmed, floral, and a little bow on the front. like a present waiting to be opened.

jack smiled at your choice of garment, fingers tracing the bow, "these are very cute, baby."

"thank you, daddy," you giggled. "you're very welcome."

he was getting ready to pull down your panties when you placed your hand over his to stop him. "wait." jack halted immediately.

concern took over his face. "what? what's the matter?" panic arose in his voice as he looked for signs of anything that he might have done to hurt you in some way.

you worried your lip, looking away from him in embarrassment.

"hey, sweetheart." he cupped your cheek, coaxing you to look at him. "tell me."

you took a few deep breaths before finally coming clean. "i'm not— i haven't—" you slapped both hands to your face, unable to bring yourself to say it.

jack was absolutely floored by the sudden change in your behaviour. he thought real hard about what could have caused it — then it clicked. "are you a virgin?"

silence.

"you are, aren't you?" he scoffed. "all that fuss, huh? trying to be big, but you're not. you're still just a little girl."

your whimpers were muffled beneath your palms. shame overtaking your body. yes, you are a virgin, but jack didn't have to be so mean about it.

"what am i gonna do with you? you've soaked through your panties." he clicked his tongue, then paused. "look at me." despite his harsh words, his grip on your wrists was gentle. you opened your eyes to see him looking at you with understanding, and guilt for how he'd spoken to you.

"i'm sorry, babygirl. dad's being mean, huh?"

"you were." you sniffled with a pout on your lips. "i mean, i liked it when you're being sexy but you were teasing me."

jack let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "alright, i'll keep that in mind. but i'm being serious now, baby. if you wanna stop right now, we'll stop."

"no!" you quickly wrapped your limbs around jack's hips, caging him in place. "been waiting for this, daddy. i wanna feel you already!"

"alright, alright." he soothed you with a gentle hush. "i'm sure we'll figure something out."

jack's cock slid up and down against your cotton-covered slit.

"daaad, please put it in me. oh my god—" it felt fucking good to see his thick, hefty cock and feel it against you, at last. but you needed more.

"behave. this is all you're gonna get for now. you're still too little." he panted as he sped up his movements. he wanted nothing more than to be inside you — he knew you'd be so fucking tight around him, now that you'd revealed you're still a virgin. "just introducing my dadcock to your virgin pussy, hm? get 'em familiar with each other."

jack wanted to pull out his phone and film the way how big his cock looked on you so bad.

he took the next step to thrust his tip into where your opening would be, the gusset acting as a barrier. the action made you moan loudly, the sound echoing around the house. he's so big.

he repeated the same movements, in and out — like he's fucking you.

"that's how it's gonna be, babygirl. gonna have to buy you a toy to play with so you get enough practise — before you get the real thing." he groaned above you, you feel infinite times better than your mother.

the thought of him being the one to take your virginity made him come all over your tummy and panties. it's a lot that it started to drip down onto the sheets. he'd been secretly saving all of his cum for you, he always declined your mother whenever she initiated sex.

he'd have to do laundry before his wife comes home or else he'd be getting an earful about the suspicious stain on her very expensive egyptian cotton sheets. ♡

💭 uhh. posts this and runs away

[j4ckr4bbits]

18+ MDNI | cw: fauxcest, daddy kink, dumbification

father's day sex with papa jack :3

you're waiting up for him when he gets back from his shift, wearing some pretty black sheer babydoll and laying out on the bed. your breath catches when you see him walk through the door— his backpack slung on one broad shoulder, his tummy pressing through his scrubs, sweat beading at his neck and dampening his silver curls. he's never looked sexier. "h-happy father's day, daddy."

jack's exhausted, lidded gaze roves over your body, the way the morning light filters through the blinds and onto your curves. "oh, baby, thank you," he coos as he drops his bag onto the floor. he stalks over to the bed, sliding the sheer material up your stomach and tenderly kissing the warm skin. "mmm... you're the prettiest gift a daddy could ask for."

he wastes no time in parting your thighs. you hear the soft jingle of jack unbuckling his belt and groaning before he sinks his thick cock into your warm, wet cunt.

"fuck, baby," he pants, leaning forward to loom over you. he's pressing a juicy kiss to your lips and whispering against them, "daddy's home."

jack's thrusting deep and hard into your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, rough hands massaging over your sides while you babble, "dad, dad, dad, dad—"

the way you repeat it like you've gone dumb on his cock, like you're too stupid to be without him, makes jack's eyes roll back. "you keep callin' me dad, 'm gonna fuckin' bust, sweetheart," he grunts, "fuck, y'got so tight when i said that. you want that, hmm? you want dad fillin' you up on his special day? is that your special gift for me, baby?"

you only whimper and nod in return, but that's not good enough for your papa. jack tuts and shakes his head before thrusting harshly into your cunt. he presses his forehead to yours, brows furrowed as he asks again: "... no, answer me, princess, do you want your dad to fill you up?"

[s4ngel]

imagining kitty!reader meeting puppy!dex. omfg … being on eachother nonstop… constantly humping eachother wherever whenever…

they constantly have bruises and bites on eachother too! it’s always been done to them anyways.. they can’t help but learn! +kissing eachother nonstop.. seeming like they’re in heat 24/7 :(

dex always cumming inside kitty.. wanting to claim her for himself.. biting her neck and shoulders and giving her bruises everywhere. "pleasepleaseplease" but ur shes fucked out by his clumsy and perfect thrusts all she can do is mumble and take whatever he wants to give her :(

puppy!dex fucking kitty in her sleep.. sliding his cock thru her thighs or humping her quickly. whining quietly into her chest as he laps at her tits :( lapping at her pussy like hes dying for water :( keeping ur thighs spread even as you wake from how messy his movements are…

since hes so much more hyper than her he’s constantly following her around! staying by her feet when he wants attention…. :( kitty pawing at dex and scratching him gently when she wants his attention.. he has a collar too :( kitty always tugging on it..

[stargirlultra]

DENNIS WHITAKER X FEM PRESENTING!READER

★ANALYSIS! Maybe he's bored, maybe he's lonely, maybe he just needs something to look forward to outside of work. When he overhears you talking a little bit intimately in the rec room with someone you're seeing, it's like his mind latches onto the thrill of possibilities that came with that tidbit of information. He'd never considered you a sexual being, and clearly there was a good reason for that.

★CW! masturbation, mention of oral sex, doggy style, pronebone, pillow humping, drooling, public masturbation, queer!reader, fingering, mention of public sex, mention of orgasms

★AUTHOR! masturbation part III RAAAAAH!! also sorry I'm not super active or anything I'm too nervous to start putting other fandoms on here and I'm running out of ideas for Dennis and The Pitt.

He’d never considered you a sexual being.

To Dennis Whitaker, you were a dedicated worker bee who he’d always heard speaking about work and only work. You were kind of like those teachers he used to believe didn’t do anything outside of the school walls. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you disappeared when your shift was over and reappeared outside of the hospital building when you had to clock in.

That changed one day when he saw you on the phone with someone while staring at the rec room’s vending machine. He’d come into the room and froze a few steps into the room.

You didn’t notice him, you were too absorbed with your companion over the phone. He stood there awkwardly, struggling to decide whether he should leave the room or make sure you knew he was in the room with you. He’d turned on his heels, deciding to leave—

“So, what, you wanna skip the date and go straight to hooking up?”

He stilled. The day was so hectic, a surplus of victims from a collision on the road had put him at the very edge an hour before, he’d almost forgotten the things normal people did.

Whitaker glanced at you. You were going on a date after your shift? You were beautiful, undeniably, but he’d never considered you someone who did anything like that.

His mind began to fill with speculative thoughts.

Did you go on dates often? Is the person you were on the phone with a person you usually went on dates with? Did you ever go on dates with anyone from the hospital? Did you have sex with your dates or did you prolong it for as long as you could manage? Have you ever had sex with anyone in the hospital, like Santos with Garcia?

Would you, if you got the opportunity?

He shook the thought from his mind just as you responded to the person you were calling. “You’ll have to take me out to a nice little dinner if you maybe want to see me in your bed.”

His heart raced and the fantastical image of you in a fancy little outfit, ruined mid-fuck. He pushed it away just as fast as it came. He had shit to do and what he was thinking about was horrendously childish of him. Was he 15?

He left the rec room as quickly as he could before you could see him.

The mystery of your life outside of the Pitt—more specifically, your romantic and sexual life—nestled itself into Whitaker’s mind for weeks. He could be in the midst of doing his charts and your figure would rush past him, standing beside a patient’s gurney, the speculation and wonder of your intimate life distracting him until Dana or Santos or Robby pulled him out of his own head.

It was an embarrassing and uncontrollable issue.

There was a time where you called for him to come help you with a patient. He was distracted the entire time, watching you work and command everyone else to specific things. It was made worse when he got so distracted that he dropped a utensil.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Whitaker dropped to the floor to pick up the scalpel. Before he could do anything, you took it from him as he popped back up.

“I’ve got it, Huckleberry,” you’d said in a quick, flat tone, “make sure her breathing is stable.”

His face burned. He’d seen you just about every day for most of the day; he’d gone a whole year without being flustered and consumed with the thoughts of you. What was the problem now? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you putting your mystery date onto their knees?

“I can do it,” he’d said. His voice was shaking, coated with embarrassment. God, did he wake up with the mind of a 13 year old boy or something?

You stopped, only for a second. His heart skipped a beat and the fantasy ghosted back towards the front of his mind. Your eyes were round, calculated, not a hint of anything but the pursuit of the objective goal swimming in the pools around your pupils.

“I know you can,” you’d said in an intoxicatingly low voice. “But not right now. Understand?”

It was probably the most embarrassing moment of his career in the Pitt. He’d clocked out thinking about that, from the moment you called for him to come with you to the half a second you stared directly into his eyes. You were a mind-altering disease, he’d come to realize, and his life was being ruined by the mystery that was you.

It was so humiliating (in his head, at least) that he’d asked both Dana and Robby and even McKay to replace him if you ever called for him to work with you. It took a bit of vague convincing but they agreed.

It got worse after two full weeks of him avoiding even being in the same room with you. His thoughts hadn’t reached full on debaucherous perversions. It had gone as far as imagining you kissing and touching a mystery man’s body, running your fingers over his torso and kissing his chest. It was pathetic and weird, he knew that, but nothing to be entirely ashamed about.

Until you pulled him into the rec room—the silent, empty rec room—and trapped him inside by standing in front of the door. You folded your arms over your chest and stared at him with narrowed eyes for so long it put him into a mental spiral.

Did you know he overheard you talking about hooking up with your date? Did you know the things he thought about you? He knew you couldn’t read his mind but he was certain it was obvious on his face.

Finally, you spoke and broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you have a problem with me, Whitaker?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me?” you repeated slowly. “You can tell me and we can talk about it, but only for a moment, so spit it out.”

He shook his head immediately. “No! No, I don’t have any problem with you. We don’t even talk that much, why would,” he chuckled nervously, “why would there be any problems between us?”

“See, that’s the issue. We don’t talk that much anymore.” You leaned on the door, your face falling a little bit. The look of the worker bee was starting to slide away.

“I…I just…,” he didn’t know how to explain himself, he barely knew how to explain to Robby why his charts were never his main focus!

“Did I do something?” you asked with a frown.

Whitaker blinked. “No, I promise, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Then why are you avoiding me? Every time I ask for you to come help a patient, I expect you to be behind me and instead I find Mel or just someone else. Are you asking other people to fill in for you when you have to work with me?”

He stammered like an idiot. His eyes roamed all over the room, from the tables to the walls to the crumbs on the smooth white floor. Every possible scenario was running through his head at the speed of light. Anything to—

“See!”

“What!?”

You held out your hand at him, accusatory. “You’re avoiding admitting whatever it is that’s your problem with me! You can’t even look at me!”

Dennis ran his hands over his face, shaking breaths leaving his lips. What could he do that wouldn’t ruin his already weakening relationship with you? But he couldn’t admit that he speculated about your intimate life, that was far too peverted of him.

Either way he’d lose your friendship, even if it wasn’t that strong to begin with.

He sighed and sat at one of the round tables, putting his face in his hands. His entire body was hot with embarrassment. “I…I over…overheard…”

“What? Speak up. Please, Dennis.” A chill ran up his back at your words.

“I…overheard you,” he muttered a little bit louder. “When you were talking on the phone a couple of weeks ago, I heard you. I heard you talking to your date and it just…I got kind of embarrassed. I didn’t know how to approach you.”

You stared at him for a moment then broke out into laughter. He looked up at you from behind his hands, eyes wide. Were you laughing at him? His body grew hotter and he was beginning to grow irritated.

When you stopped laughing, you sat in the seat right across from him. “I’m so sorry, Whitaker, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have been talking about stuff like that in public.”

Huh? You hadn’t said much all those weeks ago. He wasn’t a prude or anything, it was just a couple of sentences.

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve just minded my business, or at least let you know I was there while you were calling,” he said hurriedly.

“No, it’s really not fine. I shouldn’t have been talking about sex positions and kinks where anyone could hear me. It’s inappropriate, it’s unprofessional, and, clearly, it’s bothersome. I’m sorry, seriously.”

He stared at you, dumbfounded. "It...it's...okay."

You left the rec room first and the infection took over almost every part of his mind now.

What positions were you talking about? What kinks were you...so vocal about in the rec room? His mouth was dry, but his mind was filled to the brim with disgusting fantasies.

He thought about you on your knees in front of some man, caressing his bare thighs while you teasingly kissed the base of Mystery Man's dick. That was the first fantasy, and it seemed to last for days, going through different variations.

He fantasized about you either laying on a bed prone or perked up in doggy, your ass on display for whoever would grope and lick and be inside of it.

He couldn't stop thinking about how you'd look full of your Mystery Man's cock, whimpering and moaning and drooling while he plunged his fingers into your mouth. Was it easy to make cum? When you squirted, did you shake?

It was humiliating how much he thought like this. At least he could keep it maintained. Unfortunately, his way of "maintaining" his debaucherous thoughts was less than ideal.

He'd go home with Santos, closing and locking the door to his room, again, the way a teen boy would. He always swallowed down the embarrassment that came with beginning the act, but he couldn't find any other way to solve his problem.

It had helped. He'd spent hours with the end of his shirt bunched up right at his neck. He'd pull off his pants and shovel his shaking hand into his boxers.

It was humiliating how easy it was. His hand gripped the shaft of his cock and massaged it. His thumb pressed and rubbed and moved almost like a machine.

It made him so sensitive. He'd whimper and moan, stuffing the bottom of his shirt in between his teeth so that Santos wouldn't be able to hear him losing his voice as he wiped the excess cum up and down the length of his dick.

When he thought about you and some new mystery man in the Pitt going to a closet to fuck like desperate, eager animals, he'd run off to the bathroom to swirl his fingers around the tip of his cock.

He'd take off his shirt, so as to not get anything from his scrubs in his mouth, and put his undershirt in his teeth, then eagerly stroke his cock rough and fast. And the cries of his orgasm would be muffled while his body shook in the stall, trying not to get caught by the suspiciously shaped Robinavitch shoes that entered the stall beside him.

When the dayshift Pitt crew went out for drinks one night, he'd seen you and some random woman talking. Were you flirting? A disgusting part of him hoped so.

For almost two weeks after that night out, he'd imagined you with a Mystery Woman, her hands reaching up into your shirt to grope your tits and going down into your underwear to touch you and sink into you.

He felt his most disgusting when this phase of fantasies passed through. He didn't even know if you liked women, not to mention his best friend was a lesbian. It felt incredibly disrespectful and every time he let his cock out to fap, he'd get a disgusting taste in his mouth.

But the idea of you experiencing some form of erotic, intimate pleasure had him excited, on edge, every nerve dancing right under the surface of his too-hot skin.

In his fantasies, if you were on your knees, stuffing some Mystery Guy's cock into your mouth or pushing your face in the wet heat of a Mystery Woman's pussy, he'd sit on the floor of his bedroom and masturbate so much his hand would be covered in cum.

If you were riding, he'd lay on his back with his hand around his neck, fingers pressing against his throat while he grinded against the tightness in his boxers.

If you were grinding, he'd do the same against a pillow, spilling loads of cum onto the pillowcases until it ruined the trance that the friction had put him into.

He had no clue how long he would be stuck stroking his dick to you for, but he never seemed to hesitate to do it.

Making himself cum to unending mental images of your pleasure had become an addiction he wasn't looking to cure. Maybe if you took him aside and fucked him in the rec room, that would solve the problem.

Until then, he'd spend most nights touching himself and drooling and cumming in your name.

[sutphinblvdlvr]

please dennis let me suck it

[ryaswritings]

Stealthy Heist

Dennis Whitaker x AFAB!Reader

Summary: when you wake up at 3am with a dry throat you think you can manage sneaking into Dennis’ kitchen without getting caught. However his roommates girlfriend catches you in the act revealing everything you and Dennis had been hiding.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!! PnV, smut, p with little plot, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), secret relationship, Santos x Garcia, oral(f!recieving), fingering, hickies, getting caught. Probably spelling mistakes but 🤷‍♀️

The two of you giggled as Dennis reached behind him blindly to lock his door. His full attention was on how your lips chased his the entire way to his room. The moment the door clicked his hands were all over you. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt to guide you to his bed. He tried shushing your giggles but in return it only drew more laughter from him as well. “Shh Santos will hear you.. she.. is.. awake..” You keep interrupting every other word with another kiss.

“You gonna make sure I’m quiet? Make me.” You tease before looping your fingers through his belt loops and falling backwards onto his bed, pulling him down with you. His cheeks were flushed from the sudden attention you gave him upon entering his and Santos’ apartment. His mouth clashed against yours in a playful yet needy way. Like he was fighting back a smile but craving your taste.

You push him away and quickly pull off his shirt letting it fall beside the bed. His lips were back on yours the moment the piece of clothing was gone. Your lips trail down leaving dark marks along his collarbone and chest. His hands move up your shirt leaving a trail of goosebumps where his fingers grazed.

“I want you so bad Denny, need you.” You mutter against his lips making his hips grind down against yours. A quiet whimper leaves his lips as his hand peel off your clothes. His hand dives beneath your panties letting his fingers run through your wet folds. He groans at the feeling of his fingers gliding easily along your cunt.

“God.. you’re so wet..” He whispers to himself as if he is in awe that he can make you this way. His sloppy kisses move down your jaw before reaching your neck. Lightly sucking certain areas feeling how you squirm beneath him with each suck. His fingers run up and down your folds before his middle and ring finger plunge into you. A moan rips from your lips which he quickly muffles with his own. Another messy kiss starts as his fingers slowly thrust into you.

“You’re squeezing my fingers so well.. so perfect.” He praises you between kisses. You notice the way his hips grind into the mattress with each pitiful noise you make. He moves down so his face is settled between your thighs. He looks up at you as if asking for permission to taste you. “Please Dennis..”

He pulls aside your panties and begins lapping up the juices his fingers created. Your moans gradually get louder the more his mouth works on you. His hand reaches up to cover your mouth but his finger end up on your lips. You let his index and middle finger fall into your mouth and begin sucking on them to help distract yourself from being too noisy. His hips stutter against the mattress. He ruts his hips continuously into the bed trying to relieve some tension in his pants.

Dennis moans into your heat feeling the way your tongue swirls around his fingers. He feels the way your moans vibrate against his fingers and it drives him mad. He notices the way your hips begin twitching signaling that you’re close. His free hand moves to your clit where his thumb presses quick circles against it. His tongue works meticulously to drive you over the edge practically moaning as you squeeze your thighs against either side of his head.

You wanted to speak but with his fingers in your mouth all you could do was let out pitiful moans as you release onto his chin. The sight in front of you has your eyes rolling back. His chin was glistening as he pulls away from your cunt with a satisfied grin.

He wipes off your juices before moving to kick off his pants and boxers. He pulls off your panties completely leaving both of you bare. “Please Dennis. I need you inside of me..” Your body squirms still feeling the after effects of your previous orgasm.

“Gonna make you feel good, just gotta stay quiet for me.. can you do that for me?” You nod eagerly just wanting him to be inside of you already. He lines himself up before slowly sinking down. His lips capture yours making your moans go straight into his mouth. He gives a few shallow thrusts before sinking in completely. You pull away breathlessly as you adjust to him.

“You’re so perfect.. so pretty taking me so well.” He presses kisses against your temple as he reassures you. “I’m going to move, is that alright?” He asks as you close your eyes and nod. Slowly enough he begins to set a steady pace which takes your breath away. “Oh fuck Dennis.. mm so deep.. feel so good.” Your words slur together as his cock brings you pure bliss.

“So.. tight shit I’m not going to last long with you squeezing me like this..” He huffs out as his pace increases. His hands palm at your breast needing to feel more of you. Each thrust pulls quiet squeaks and moans from your throat. He can feel it when you start to get close with how you squeeze him.

“Shit I’m going to cum.. fuck..” he curses feeling your legs wrap around him to pull him closer. He moves his hand down drawing tight circles against you flit sending you reeling. “Inside please.. I wanna feel you fill me up Denny.. please.” You beg making him whimper as he speeds up before finally shooting his load into you. The feeling drives you over the edge as your climax reaches at the same time.

He gives you sloppy kisses as the two of your work through your orgasms. Heavy breathing and faint whimpers fills the room as you both come down from your highs. “Holy shit.. god I love you so much.” He stays there for a moment still buried inside of you. Slowly he pulls himself out of you drawing a quiet and unsatisfied moan from you. “I love you too.. let’s get you cleaned up.. I think today’s shift is catching up to me”

3:24 AM

You felt yourself awake before your eyes and mind could even process anything. A low groan sounds from your throat as you shift around feeling a heavy weight around your waist.

You look down and see your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your body as his soft snores reach your ears. You would’ve taken the time to admire him but the dry feeling in your throat quickly grabbed your attention.

“Hey Denny.. Dennis..” Your hand reaches out to shake the sleeping man but your attempts prove useless as he shifts around and falls right back asleep. You look at his door that taunted you. You knew it was risky going out there alone but you couldn’t stand the scratchy feeling in your throat any longer.

You slide yourself out of bed and grab the nearest article of clothing which happened to be Dennis shirt that was disgarded a couple hours ago. You rummage through his drawers before finding a pair of shorts to slide on. Slowly you make your way out of his room to hopefully find some water.

You tiptoe to the kitchen trying to be as stealthy as possible. Once in the kitchen you rummage through some cabinets to grab a cup when the light comes on startling you into dropping the cup with a loud clatter.

“What the hell are you doing here L/n?” You quickly spin around and see Dr Garcia standing in the entryway. “Garcia? I uh.. just um..” You stand there awkwardly as she examines your clothing and the fact that none of it was your own.

“It was late and Den- Whitaker offered to let me stay here for the night.. I didn’t really have a change of clothes so he gave me this.” You quickly lie and for a moment she looked as if she believed you.

That was until a shirtless Dennis Whitaker walked out of his room with two hickeys very clearly present on his chest. He was still clearly not fully awake as he rubbed his eyes. “Y/n.. why are you up so early I-” He stops talking upon seeing Garcia “Oh shit.” He quickly retreats back to his room. His comes back out pulling a dirty shirt on his body that was clearly inside out.

“What is going on out here?” Suddenly Santos was walking out of her room into the mess that was occurring. Garcia looks at the two of you now picking up what was going on. “You’re sleeping with Whitaker?” She asks making Santos’ eyes widen as a smile reaches her lips.

She sees your flustered look and the way Dennis’ hair was unruly, his face was bright red, and he was down to an inside out shirt and boxer shorts. “It’s not what it looks like!” He quickly defends but Santos just laughs. “Really because I can see those hickies peaking out from your collar and not a single article of clothing on Y/n is theirs.”

You and Dennis share a look knowing you were officially caught. “How long has this been going on?” Garcia questioned making you avoid eye contact. “7 months ago.. we have been dating for 6..” Her and Santos share a look of disbelief.

“Does Robby know? Does Dana?” Santos immediately starts interrogating before you shut her down. “No nobody knows. Technically you two weren’t supposed to know either but I couldn’t wake him up and my throat felt like the Sahara desert… it’s a secret..”

Santos and Garcia share another look that you can’t even begin to decipher. “So you’re saying we are the only ones that know about your top tier secret that you and Huckleberry are sleeping with eachother?” You slowly nod. “Please just promise me that this stays between us?”

Santos and Garcia eventually agreed to keep the secret to the grave. However your next shift proved that someone didn’t keep that promise. Perlah and Princess interrogated you as Frank and Dana teased Dennis. Ultimately Robby had you fill out some forms to make sure that you two would remain professional if anything regarding your relationship happened on shift. Whether that be a breakup or one of the two of you getting hurt. The reaction wasn’t as bad as you had thought it would be but now you knew never to tell Santos or Garcia any secret that you didn’t want the entire day shift knowing.

A/n: This is my own original work however I do not own the characters in the story. If you want to repost my work on other platforms please communicate with me first. I’ve been sucked into the Pitt over the past few weeks and something about Whitaker just sparked something in me and rekindled my need to write. Hope you enjoyed!!

[ryaswritings]

Stealthy Heist

Dennis Whitaker x AFAB!Reader

Summary: when you wake up at 3am with a dry throat you think you can manage sneaking into Dennis’ kitchen without getting caught. However his roommates girlfriend catches you in the act revealing everything you and Dennis had been hiding.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!! PnV, smut, p with little plot, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), secret relationship, Santos x Garcia, oral(f!recieving), fingering, hickies, getting caught. Probably spelling mistakes but 🤷‍♀️

The two of you giggled as Dennis reached behind him blindly to lock his door. His full attention was on how your lips chased his the entire way to his room. The moment the door clicked his hands were all over you. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt to guide you to his bed. He tried shushing your giggles but in return it only drew more laughter from him as well. “Shh Santos will hear you.. she.. is.. awake..” You keep interrupting every other word with another kiss.

“You gonna make sure I’m quiet? Make me.” You tease before looping your fingers through his belt loops and falling backwards onto his bed, pulling him down with you. His cheeks were flushed from the sudden attention you gave him upon entering his and Santos’ apartment. His mouth clashed against yours in a playful yet needy way. Like he was fighting back a smile but craving your taste.

You push him away and quickly pull off his shirt letting it fall beside the bed. His lips were back on yours the moment the piece of clothing was gone. Your lips trail down leaving dark marks along his collarbone and chest. His hands move up your shirt leaving a trail of goosebumps where his fingers grazed.

“I want you so bad Denny, need you.” You mutter against his lips making his hips grind down against yours. A quiet whimper leaves his lips as his hand peel off your clothes. His hand dives beneath your panties letting his fingers run through your wet folds. He groans at the feeling of his fingers gliding easily along your cunt.

“God.. you’re so wet..” He whispers to himself as if he is in awe that he can make you this way. His sloppy kisses move down your jaw before reaching your neck. Lightly sucking certain areas feeling how you squirm beneath him with each suck. His fingers run up and down your folds before his middle and ring finger plunge into you. A moan rips from your lips which he quickly muffles with his own. Another messy kiss starts as his fingers slowly thrust into you.

“You’re squeezing my fingers so well.. so perfect.” He praises you between kisses. You notice the way his hips grind into the mattress with each pitiful noise you make. He moves down so his face is settled between your thighs. He looks up at you as if asking for permission to taste you. “Please Dennis..”

He pulls aside your panties and begins lapping up the juices his fingers created. Your moans gradually get louder the more his mouth works on you. His hand reaches up to cover your mouth but his finger end up on your lips. You let his index and middle finger fall into your mouth and begin sucking on them to help distract yourself from being too noisy. His hips stutter against the mattress. He ruts his hips continuously into the bed trying to relieve some tension in his pants.

Dennis moans into your heat feeling the way your tongue swirls around his fingers. He feels the way your moans vibrate against his fingers and it drives him mad. He notices the way your hips begin twitching signaling that you’re close. His free hand moves to your clit where his thumb presses quick circles against it. His tongue works meticulously to drive you over the edge practically moaning as you squeeze your thighs against either side of his head.

You wanted to speak but with his fingers in your mouth all you could do was let out pitiful moans as you release onto his chin. The sight in front of you has your eyes rolling back. His chin was glistening as he pulls away from your cunt with a satisfied grin.

He wipes off your juices before moving to kick off his pants and boxers. He pulls off your panties completely leaving both of you bare. “Please Dennis. I need you inside of me..” Your body squirms still feeling the after effects of your previous orgasm.

“Gonna make you feel good, just gotta stay quiet for me.. can you do that for me?” You nod eagerly just wanting him to be inside of you already. He lines himself up before slowly sinking down. His lips capture yours making your moans go straight into his mouth. He gives a few shallow thrusts before sinking in completely. You pull away breathlessly as you adjust to him.

“You’re so perfect.. so pretty taking me so well.” He presses kisses against your temple as he reassures you. “I’m going to move, is that alright?” He asks as you close your eyes and nod. Slowly enough he begins to set a steady pace which takes your breath away. “Oh fuck Dennis.. mm so deep.. feel so good.” Your words slur together as his cock brings you pure bliss.

“So.. tight shit I’m not going to last long with you squeezing me like this..” He huffs out as his pace increases. His hands palm at your breast needing to feel more of you. Each thrust pulls quiet squeaks and moans from your throat. He can feel it when you start to get close with how you squeeze him.

“Shit I’m going to cum.. fuck..” he curses feeling your legs wrap around him to pull him closer. He moves his hand down drawing tight circles against you flit sending you reeling. “Inside please.. I wanna feel you fill me up Denny.. please.” You beg making him whimper as he speeds up before finally shooting his load into you. The feeling drives you over the edge as your climax reaches at the same time.

He gives you sloppy kisses as the two of your work through your orgasms. Heavy breathing and faint whimpers fills the room as you both come down from your highs. “Holy shit.. god I love you so much.” He stays there for a moment still buried inside of you. Slowly he pulls himself out of you drawing a quiet and unsatisfied moan from you. “I love you too.. let’s get you cleaned up.. I think today’s shift is catching up to me”

3:24 AM

You felt yourself awake before your eyes and mind could even process anything. A low groan sounds from your throat as you shift around feeling a heavy weight around your waist.

You look down and see your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your body as his soft snores reach your ears. You would’ve taken the time to admire him but the dry feeling in your throat quickly grabbed your attention.

“Hey Denny.. Dennis..” Your hand reaches out to shake the sleeping man but your attempts prove useless as he shifts around and falls right back asleep. You look at his door that taunted you. You knew it was risky going out there alone but you couldn’t stand the scratchy feeling in your throat any longer.

You slide yourself out of bed and grab the nearest article of clothing which happened to be Dennis shirt that was disgarded a couple hours ago. You rummage through his drawers before finding a pair of shorts to slide on. Slowly you make your way out of his room to hopefully find some water.

You tiptoe to the kitchen trying to be as stealthy as possible. Once in the kitchen you rummage through some cabinets to grab a cup when the light comes on startling you into dropping the cup with a loud clatter.

“What the hell are you doing here L/n?” You quickly spin around and see Dr Garcia standing in the entryway. “Garcia? I uh.. just um..” You stand there awkwardly as she examines your clothing and the fact that none of it was your own.

“It was late and Den- Whitaker offered to let me stay here for the night.. I didn’t really have a change of clothes so he gave me this.” You quickly lie and for a moment she looked as if she believed you.

That was until a shirtless Dennis Whitaker walked out of his room with two hickeys very clearly present on his chest. He was still clearly not fully awake as he rubbed his eyes. “Y/n.. why are you up so early I-” He stops talking upon seeing Garcia “Oh shit.” He quickly retreats back to his room. His comes back out pulling a dirty shirt on his body that was clearly inside out.

“What is going on out here?” Suddenly Santos was walking out of her room into the mess that was occurring. Garcia looks at the two of you now picking up what was going on. “You’re sleeping with Whitaker?” She asks making Santos’ eyes widen as a smile reaches her lips.

She sees your flustered look and the way Dennis’ hair was unruly, his face was bright red, and he was down to an inside out shirt and boxer shorts. “It’s not what it looks like!” He quickly defends but Santos just laughs. “Really because I can see those hickies peaking out from your collar and not a single article of clothing on Y/n is theirs.”

You and Dennis share a look knowing you were officially caught. “How long has this been going on?” Garcia questioned making you avoid eye contact. “7 months ago.. we have been dating for 6..” Her and Santos share a look of disbelief.

“Does Robby know? Does Dana?” Santos immediately starts interrogating before you shut her down. “No nobody knows. Technically you two weren’t supposed to know either but I couldn’t wake him up and my throat felt like the Sahara desert… it’s a secret..”

Santos and Garcia share another look that you can’t even begin to decipher. “So you’re saying we are the only ones that know about your top tier secret that you and Huckleberry are sleeping with eachother?” You slowly nod. “Please just promise me that this stays between us?”

Santos and Garcia eventually agreed to keep the secret to the grave. However your next shift proved that someone didn’t keep that promise. Perlah and Princess interrogated you as Frank and Dana teased Dennis. Ultimately Robby had you fill out some forms to make sure that you two would remain professional if anything regarding your relationship happened on shift. Whether that be a breakup or one of the two of you getting hurt. The reaction wasn’t as bad as you had thought it would be but now you knew never to tell Santos or Garcia any secret that you didn’t want the entire day shift knowing.

A/n: This is my own original work however I do not own the characters in the story. If you want to repost my work on other platforms please communicate with me first. I’ve been sucked into the Pitt over the past few weeks and something about Whitaker just sparked something in me and rekindled my need to write. Hope you enjoyed!!

[sugartalkingwrites]

jack abbot who is constantly having flower and gifts delivered to you at work. he knows how envious your coworkers are of you, it's not your fault that the marquise cut diamond ring that sits on your left hand looked best in a size 3ct with an accompanying halo band of diamonds. it's certainly not your fault when he's sending flower of various assortments bi-weekly; peonies, roses, hydrangeas and dahlias. there is simply nothing that can be done to hide their resentment when he comes to pick you up every day after work before he has to go into his night shift, scooping you up in his arms, kissing you so passionately as they grumble angrily to themselves about their own husbands. it's not his fault that he likes to shower you with affection in front of them.

maybe a small part of you revels in it, knowing your husband likes to spoil you with his love and money. maybe you return the favor to jack by sucking him off in the car before he goes to work. it's a small token of gratitude and a preview for later when he gets to take you raw on his couch for hours on his next day off.

[sugartalkingwrites]

mdni 18+

jack abbot and his depraved gf!reader who only ever wants missionary with him. he thinks it's because you just want to be able to kiss or grab his ass while he fucks into you (which is true). he tries to put you on all fours after an entire dinner spent with you being a brat, you whine and plea, 'no! jackie please w-want to see you! need... need your mm..' 'what do you want dirty girl? hm? use your words? you were all talk just an hour ago, speak up.' you're already flushing at his taunting words and embarrassment crawling up your chest. 'w-want to feel your tummy against mine, please jackie.. i want to feel it pressing against mine' he feels his cock twitch at the confession and abandons all desire to punish you further, not when his dirty girl wants to feel his belly on yours. 'you want this old man's tummy on yours? hmm baby? you gonna take your old man's cock and let me rub this tummy against yours, baby? is that what you want?'

[danforthkiddo]

thinking about dadbf!jack who is basically mother gothel-ing his girl… telling you that the world is too dangerous. it’s not safe out there… look what happened to his leg.

staying in with you all day and then, when it’s time for his shift, tying you to the bed. taking you to the bathroom beforehand. “‘s for your safety, kiddo. just go to sleep.”

you’re barely able to sleep, every noise freaking you out, no way to call for jack except the cameras. sometimes when he’s at work, he makes noises through the camera. not to comfort you, to freak you out. sometimes he plays footsteps, other times gunshots. when he comes back at 8 am you’re sobbing and desperate and wanting daddy to make the scariness go away.

he’s rolling his eyes and spreading your legs. you’re still tied up. “oh, honey. you’re safe here. just as long as you stay in the house. the scary outside can’t get you. daddy promises.” you grasp onto him, crying about how terrified you are, swearing you’ll never go outside, and he’s pumping into you, silvering curls against you as he presses kisses to your shoulder. “that’s my good girl. she can follow directions. just stay inside…”

[holeinthemattress]

dex and thigh fucking as a punishment.

he’s draped over you, bare chest pressed against your back as he pants against your neck like a dog in heat.

his hands grasp your hips, helping you move over the length of him in short jerks. the inside of your thighs is slick, a mixture of arousal and sweat as dex fucks the plushness of them.

he’s a rambling, mumbling mess. telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you like this, choking on a moan when a particularly hard thrust has him notching against your entrance.

now he’s begging, pleading for you to let him put it in. “just the tip, baby? please?” dex whimpers as he ruts against you, tip smearing pre against your pussy.

you reach down between your legs and he chokes on a moan when your fingers brush against him. only for you to push him away from the warmth of your entrance and back between your thighs. dex groans in frustration, forehead falling against your shoulder as he grips you harder.

“this is supposed to be a punishment, dex.” you reply, unfazed by his whining.

thoughts about a full fledged fic dedicated to this? it’s been really fun to write…

[astarlinggirl]

dbf!jack abbot x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, daddy & dad kink, slight fauxcest, nipple play, overstimulation (m!receiving)

a/n: happy belated Father’s Day guys

Riding dbf!Jack in your bedroom during your 4th of July barbecue, muffing your moans because your father’s downstairs.

He sits up against the headboard as you bounce on his cock, rough groans muffled in your tits. His wide hands encasing your waist as he bounces you, moves you up and down on his cock.

“Fu-fuck just like that daddy,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders tightly, nails leaving half moons on his pale freckled skin.

He grips your waist tighter, letting out a pained groan.

“Yeah baby, daddy’s cock makin’ you feel good?”

His gravelly voice taunting you only turns you on more, hands moving to hold sides of his neck. You let out a soft whimper buried in his hair.

He grips your hair tightly and pulls you back to face him.

His brows furrow as he grits out, “Fuckin’ look at me while you ride me.”

You nod, head bobbing up and down, babbling apologies softly leaving your lips, “m’sorry dad.”

His hips jerk up at that, a low moan leaving him.

He leans down, keeping his eyes on you as he runs his tongue around your nipple, once, twice, then sucks it into his mouth. Pinches your other one, dragging his tongue along your tits as he alternates between the two, leaving a line of slick in its wake.

You have to bite your lip to muffle your moan, gripping him tightly. Your walls clench down on him tightly while he keeps his head between your chest.

You slide a hand down his chest, your nails rake over the littering of chest hair there.

“Yeah just keep- just like that sweetheart, such a good girl for me, fuck.”

His husky voice spurs you on, and you drag your fingers down, over his nipples. Then you pinch them, hard.

“Oh- oh fuck, fuck baby I’m- I’m coming, shit!”

Jack bites down on your breast as his hips jerk shakily under yours, and he comes. His spend fills you, some of it dribbling down his length and pooling at his base where you’re connected.

But you don’t stop riding him, still searching for your release.

“Fuck, daddy, that was so hot,” you moan into his mouth as you lean down and kiss him.

He groans softly against your mouth, hands gripping your waist in attempts to stop you.

“Yeah baby, but you gotta- fuck, you gotta stop, s’too tight.”

You whine, “No dad, still need to come.”

You grind slowly on him, the patch of gray hair rubbing against your slit, feeling his cock hardening inside you again.

“Shit, fuck bunny- s’hurting.”

“Daddy please, please just a little more,” you beg as you litter kisses over his face between each word, whimpering.

He leans back, groaning as his head softly hits the headboard behind him.

“Please, daddy let me use your cock.”

He folds when he sees you pouting, bottom lip jutting out. Anything for his pretty girl.

His fingers travel down to your clit, rubbing slow circles. You moan softly, clenching.

“S’fine you just keep bouncing yeah? Be my good little bunny.”

You press a kiss to his lips muttering soft thank yous as you ride him, bouncing on his cock, until you come with a soft moan of his name.

He gets you back once everyone leaves the barbecue and he stays the night, giving the excuse of being “too drunk to drive back home”.

Little does your father know that across the hall from his bedroom, Jack’s got you splayed over his lap, fingers pressing into your aching cunt as he makes you come, over and over again. Until you’re a babbling mess crying for her dad.

for the anon who requested dbf!jack and for @tempestfawn whose dms this was brewed in per usual