❤︎ Summary : You, Jack and Robby all have a move night once a week. It’s Jacks turn to pick and he picks a scary movie. Him and Robby both knew how you get with scary stuff, so they do whatever they can to help you calm down.
❤︎ CW : NSFW!! MDNI!! blowjob. cum swallowing. clit stimulation. brief mention of fingering. fauxcest ( possible daddy kink and age play) reader pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, honey, puppy, bunny, babydoll, precious girl, good girl) Jack (Daddy). Robby (Papa). no use of y/n. lmk if i forgot anything!!
❤︎ Word Count : 1.5k
౨ৎ
I’m scared, Daddy” you whine, trying to hide yourself in your Jack’s neck.
“There’s no need to be scared, angel. It’s all fake, you know” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip to try and calm you down a little.
Jack has chosen a scary movie for the weekly movie night you guys have now that Robby and Jack both have one day off at the same time. You always pick a RomCom or something you know they would also enjoy. But this time, Jack got to choose a movie that, to you, looked absolutely terrifying.
“I know it’s fake. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that it's scary.”
“How about this? If you absolutely can’t take it anymore, I’ll change it” he offers.
“Alright. What movie did we land on?” Robby asks from the kitchen. He always insists on making the popcorn because he says he’s the only one who knows how to do it right. Even though you’ll never tell him to his face, he is correct. He also has the best choice in movie snacks, too.
“You’ll see when you're done” Jack yells back.
Robby finishes in the kitchen and comes to the living room balancing popcorn, snacks, and drinks. “Ok, I’m here. Tell me what it is.”
“I wanted to give our baby a taste of 80’s horror movies. So what better way to introduce her than with Friday the 13th” Jack grins.
“Jack Christopher Abbot. No, we aren't watching that.” Robby then looks over to you rest your head on Jacks shoulder, “Look at her, she’s fucking trembling for Gods sake!” Robby scolds. He knows how you get during scary movies or anything that could be scary for that matter. He once tried to put on a true crime documentary that you insisted on watching, and you couldn’t sleep for three days.
“She’ll be fine. We already talked about it and I offered that if she absolutely can’t take it, we will change it. Besides, I already have 10 Things I Hate About You on standby.”
“You’re sure you’re ok with this, honey.” Robby coos, rubbing your thighs in the circular motions he knows calms you down.
You hesitate for a second. You don’t want to seem like a wuss but you also are a wuss. “Yeah. I’m ok, Papa. I promise.”
“Ok then” Robby says, lifting your legs to rest in his. “Press play.”
You’re about fifteen minutes into the movie and you’re already feeling uneasy. Nothing bad has even really happened yet, but the suspense of it all is killing you.
“Daddy” you whimper,“I can’t..I can’t do it.”
Jack notices how your trembling has gotten worse and your eyes are blown wide with fear. He decided to pick this movie because he’s trying to toughen you up a little. Jack loves how soft and innocent you are, but in his eyes, you need to see certain things and realize what they mean. Maybe a horror movie isn’t the best way to go about this, but he wants to start slow.
“Shh. It’s ok, honey. You’re ok. Daddy’s got you” he coos, moving your head from his shoulder down to his lap. You start to feel a little more relaxed in this new position. The warmness of him is making you feel all fuzzy inside and making your brain turn off.
Now you hit the hour mark. The jump scares are becoming more prominent and the action in the movie picking up. You're writhing around on the couch; your head keeps on moving and your shoulders keep digging into your boyfriend's thighs.
“Stop moving, baby. You're only making it worse” he lightly scolds. Jack is getting a tad bit annoyed with you. All the whimpering and screams that keep coming from you are distracting him to no end.
Then, when you decide to nuzzle into his crotch, an idea pops into his brain. He looks over at Robby who is completely unaware of what’s going on. “Move your head, sweetheart,” Jack instructs. You lift your head up as he unzips his jeans.
“Jack, what’s going on over there?” Robby asks as he sees you lift your head and Jack unzip his jeans.
“Nothing. I’m just trying to help our girl calm down a little” Jack smirks.
Your brows are furrowed in confusion as to what he was doing. He takes his pants off and moves his boxers down, freeing his semi hard cock.
“What are you-“
“Shh, puppy. It’s ok. Just take it for Daddy” he croons, gently laying your head back down and rubbing his tip on your lips.
On instinct, you immediately open your mouth and suckling on his tip like it’s a lollipop. “See. Such a good girl.”
Robby looks over after hearing the slight sucking sounds, “Jack. Are you fucking serious?!”
“Dead fucking serious, brother. Look at her.”
Robby looks down at you and sees how content you are sucking on Jacks cock. Robby does know about your oral fixation and how having things in your mouth—especially their fingers or their cocks—calms you down almost instantly.
Your brain is still trying to comprehend what’s going on, but all you can really think about is Jack’s cock in your mouth. You love his cock—you actually love everything about it. Most of the time, you have to beg him for it, but this time he just gave it to you without you having to whine for it. He’s such a nice Daddy.
The movie is at its climax, and you’re completely calm ; your brain is all fuzzy as you're still suckling on his tip. He came a few times already but that just adds another sense of relaxation to you. One thing you love just as much as his cock is his cum down your throat.
“My precious girl. Making Daddy feel so good” he mumbles, spreading your legs a little. “Robby. Help her out, would you?”
Robby moves his hands from your thigh to the hem of your panties, sliding his hand in and finishing you clit almost immediately. “Such a needy girl. Is your clit all achy, baby?”
“Mhm” you moan as he starts rubbing slow circles around your clit and moving down every once in a while to your sopping wet hole.
You three aren’t even really paying attention to the movie. You’re too focused on making Jack cum for a third time, Robby’s focused on your very swollen clit, and Jack's very focused on trying not to explode into your mouth again.
“Does pleasing Daddy turn you on this much?” Robby patronizes.
You can’t even find it in yourself to respond to Robby’s question. Your brain is practically spilling out at this point and your mouth is sucking him like it’s the only thing it knows how to do.
You feel your eyes start to roll back into your head. Your climax is approaching quickly and you feel your boyfriend's hip start to shutter—meaning Jack is very close.
“I’m gonna come down your pretty little throat, princess. Daddy wants you to taste what you’ve done to him” he groans.
“Mhm” you murmur, still sucking on his tip like your life depended on it.
Moments later you feel the salty liquid spill down your throat. You sigh in pleasure and swallow every last drop—even taking him out of your mouth to tap the remainder on your tongue.
“Such a good puppy. Now come for Papa, honey. Come on.” Jack croons.
“Yeah, bunny. Come for Papa.” Robby whispers, picking up the pace of the circles that make your thighs shake uncontrollably.
You come milliseconds later. You feel your wetness pool beneath you on the couch cushion and your pussy clenching around nothing. “Mm. So good” you babble. Your brain is still mush and have drool and cum spilling out of your mouth. You smile up at Jack which makes him smile back.
“You’re so beautiful, babydoll” Jack coos, wiping the drool cum mixture from your mouth.
Robby moves to where he is practically laying on top of you. He’s never done this, but you actually really enjoy having Robby’s weight on top of you. He’s like a very warm weighted blanket.
“Such a beautiful girl” Robby admires. Kissing your lips, tasting your drool and Jack's cum. “Here taste yourself.”
Robby sticks his fingers in your mouth and you suck the remnants of yourself off Robby’s fingers. “Good girl.” Jack croons, cupping your cheek.
You’re so blissed out that you forgot how you even got here in the first place, but Jack notices the movie has been over for probably the last twenty or so minutes. “Hm. I guess we have to start it over again, baby. Maybe Papa can help you this time.”
౨ৎ
hai! i know i already posted this but i decided to change a few things about it. it was originally older bf, but i changed i to rabbot because i know how much you guys love them. i’m also in the process of writing a longer rabbot fic so stay tuned! this post was a very big inspiration for this fic so definitely go read it and all of @pinkandblueblurbs stuff. it’s absolutely incredible. i hope you guys enjoyed! much love!! 🎬
Hi!! Can you please write about pervy Jack making reader keep her panties on and making her cum a couple of times by rubbing her clit. He snakes his fingers inside so he can keep rubbing, but he mostly rubs over her panties wanting to make the cloth stick to every crevice of her so her panties smell just like her and her arousal, so he can take them home with him using it to smell later onnnnn
If that’s okay, thank you
c'mere im gonna gnaw on your brain
ft jack abbot and eye contact
18+
“C’mon sweet girl, one more for me.”
“J-Jack!”
“Shh, gotta stay quiet,” one of Jack’s hands closed over your mouth while the other continued to rub circles over your clit through your thong. Your legs were shaking with the overstimulation of your rapidly approaching fifth orgasm of the day. “Can’t let anyone know what I’m doing to you in here.”
You tried your best to stay silent so as to not give yourself away to the sales associates of the boutique Jack had dragged you into, but your ragged breathing and little whimpers were leaking out around his palm. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist to give him access and the wet squelching that gave away just how soaked your panties were filled the dressing room.
“One more baby that’s all I need,” his eyes were locked on yours, although your vision was swimming as tears gathered at your lashline.
Your head thrashed as you tried to shake it back and forth, but Jack didn’t stop. He pressed the scratchy, soaked lace harder against your clit and your eyes rolled back.
“No, no,” his body pressed harder against yours to keep you pinned to the wall. “Eyes on me baby girl, eyes on me.”
With fluttering lashes, you forced your eyes to open.
“There you go,” the speed of his circling picked up in pace. Your hips were jerking back to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but the wall at your back left you nowhere to go. You were stuck there, forced to take what he gave you. “Gonna cum for me?”
Your voice was muffled, but you tried to plead with him to let you go. It was too much. You could feel the building pressure of your orgasm just a hairsbreadth away from cracking open and making a complete mess of the dressing room.
Weakly, your hands slapped at his arms, trying with no success to get him to let you go.
The pleasure crested, crashing through your body and shattering you into pieces. If it weren’t for Jack’s body holding you up, you would have collapsed to the ground. Your walls clenched around nothing, aching and pulsing as your release erupted out of you.
“What a good girl,” Jack groaned as you drenched his hand with your cum. It soaked through your panties, the overflow of fluid dripping down your trembling thighs. “Oh fuck you made such a mess.”
He kept rubbing, egging on each spurt until you’d been wrung completely dry and your brain had gone fuzzy. Your ears rang and the tears that had been threatening to fall from the beginning rolled down your cheeks, soaking the hand still clenched tight over your mouth.
Jack finally stopped his circling when you started to sob with overstimulation. He pulled his hands away before wrapping his arms around you and cooing.
“You did so good for me,” he was still supporting your body with his. “We’re all done, ok?”
“My good little girl,” his hands shifted down to finger the waistband of your thong. “Let’s take these off.”
“Wait, Jack-”
“Nuh-uh,” he was pulling them off before you could stop him. Your limbs were still shaky and uncoordinated, so you were helpless to do anything but let him drag the ruined fabric down your legs. “Can’t have you wearing ruined underwear.”
When you’d stepped out of them, Jack brought the scrap of lace up to his face. He took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut as he groaned. You blushed slightly at the display, but your cheeks took on a very tomato-like hue when he licked the gusset, savoring the fluids that were soaked into the fabric.
“Jack,” your voice was weak and your jaw dropped. “That’s gross.”
“S’not gross,” he gave you an unimpressed look. “It’s delicious. Now let's get going.”
“Wait but what am I supposed to do?”
“About what?” Jack smoothed your miniskirt down. It fell to about your midthigh and provided you very little modesty with the thong, but without it you’d be fully exposed with one wrong move.
“About my underwear,” you tried to reach for it, but Jack lifted his hand up and out of your reach. “I can’t walk around like this!”
“Guess you should have thought about that before you made a mess,” he smirked, stuffing the lace into his back pocket. “Now come on. We don’t want to be late for our dinner reservations.”
ok so i saw a new article about a therapy dog going to a prison to bring joy to the inmates. and im thinking...therapy dog handler!reader x pope who literally hasnt said a word at folsom until he asks you the name of the dog. and youre kind to him. no one is ever kind to him. so he's like...hm...i like you. and looks forward to your visits every month. until he's released. aw man :c no more doggie. but its ok bce he stalks finds you out in the wild!!
Good Boy
summary: signing yourself and your doberman, cardinal, for folsom state prison's "canines for comfort" program was meant to be a one-time thing. that is until one prisoner doesn't just catch cardinal's attention, but yours as well.
tags: andrew "pope" cody x reader, dog!hander reader, cardinal is weary of men but loves andrew, anti-social, passionate andrew, he falls first and hardest, age gap (28/39), stalking, he's big into collars and the idea of being trained to receive praise and reward/treats, smut (fingering, cunnilingus, sub/bottom!andrew, riding, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia, insane use of "good boy" and handler terms [BUT THIS ISN'T PUPPY ROLE PLAY], piv-unprotected sex, creampie), NSFW 18+ MDNI
notes: once again, everyone can thank @in-ky for this request! will this one be a banger? I sure hope so! beta read by my lovely @oxalaia-quilombensis as always, MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED BUT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! enjoy!
word count: 10.5k
Cardinal’s leash remained firmly gripped in your hand as you followed the guard past the front entrance. His paws pittered-pattered against the tile flooring, echoing in the long hall along with your footsteps. Every so often, his side would brush against your calf before he righted himself only to bump you once again after a few moments. His presence kept you calm; prison—even if you weren’t the one in handcuffs and a jumpsuit—made everyone nervous, and you were no exception.
If this were any other place, Cardinal would heel frozen at your feet, nose bumping into the flesh of your leg to signal that something deep inside you was unsettled. He wasn’t a certified therapy dog, not after he’d growled too much and refused to give up his toys during training, but the deeply instilled instinct to protect and comfort remained wired into his brain. He’d been a gift from your parents.
You need something to look after you while you’re off getting your master’s your father had stated before you finally left the coup of your hometown. Since you don’t have a boyfriend, we’ll get you the next best thing.
And the next best thing happened to be a two-year-old doberman, fresh from failing training, who, upon meeting you, never once left your side. With his baby blue collar and harness, the matching set starkly contrasting his inky coat, he served as your sole protector through the move to Sacramento almost a year ago and apparently now while you walked deeper into the Folsom State Prison’s belly to be a part of their “Canines for Comfort” rehabilitation-slash-rehab program, which had been instated around the time you started year one of school.
You had signed up and sent in an application on a whim, something to help fill the odd space in your Saturdays a few hours after sleeping in where you weren’t hungry enough for lunch but didn’t want to just sit around twiddling your thumbs. Their approval had come swiftly, and before you knew it, you’d made the hour drive to arrive for your first session. Up ahead, the guard stopped at a plain, gray door that didn’t have a window.
“With me,” you muttered, and Cardinal sat almost on top of your feet.
“Session starts in five minutes. There are seats in there; choose one and stay in it during the duration of the thirty minutes,” he gruffed.
A low groan rumbled down by your feet at his bluntness, and you were quick to hiss a small sht towards your companion. It didn’t take much to get Cardinal to quiet, but even you could tell that the longer you stood there, the more he was getting unnerved.
Thankfully, the guard tapped a keycard on the lock and the automatic click boomed loudly. He pushed down on the handle before swinging the door wide open to reveal the few people and dogs already in there. You, obviously, were the last one.
“Up,” you said as you took the first step toward the threshold.
Cardinal trotted in tandem with your stride and paid no attention to the others in the room, deep eyes locked on your face even if you were looking around. In one corner of the large, almost classroom-like room, an older woman sat with a dopey golden retriever panting at her feet. In the one adjacent, a middle-aged man stood, back pressed to the wall, hand wrapped around a lead that connected to a very sleepy beagle. You thanked the air. If someone got him howling, there’d be no stop. And across the empty corner—the one that you were supposed to “choose” even if it was the only nonoccupied one left—a college-aged girl nervously looked around, fingers fiddling with the hair of her collie that was half sitting in her lap.
You took the chair. “Feet.”
With a small pushed out groan, Cardinal plopped down on his stomach, legs out in front of him, head held high. Your left hand splayed across his head while your right kept a hold of his leash. The session was going to be co-ed and only available to prisoners who kept a good rep with impeccable behavior, but that still didn’t do much to calm the lapping wave of anxiety in your stomach.
Eyeing the guard who stayed by the door, you noted the way he kept his hands next to his weapon. Only the sound of the secondary door on the other side opening got you to look the other way. As the first few prisoners trickled in, wrists held close together with metallic chains, you sat up a bit straighter. A few of them glanced your way, but as you thought, most of them seemed to gravitate toward the . . . friendly looking dogs, especially the golden retriever who looked like he’d never met a stranger.
Cardinal huffed, sides filling with air before deflating, and his head lowered until it fit between the slots of his feet. You bent at the waist to give his head another small pat and rub. So focused on him, though, you missed the one person approaching you slowly until his feet stopped mere inches away from Cardinal’s. You stayed bent, but your neck craned until your eyes met peered hazel ones that flickered downward and then back to your face.
You sat up straight, the plastic chair creaking under the sudden change in position, and squared your shoulders. “Hi.”
The man drenched in God-awful orange didn’t reply. His lips curled in a thin line, and his hands clenched and unclenched near his navel. You watched as he shifted his weight, body tense like he wanted to speak and move but held back. You quickly looked around. If you had another chair, you’d offer it to him, but the only ones seemed to be occupied by the dog owners.
“Um, there’s not an extra chair, but . . .” you trailed, lip catching between your teeth. “I can always stand up and let you sit or—”
Still without answering, he started to lower to the ground instead until he was fully seated, legs crossed in front of him. His head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes didn’t look away from Cardinal, yet, he made no motion to reach out and pet him.
You leaned back down and placed a hand on your dog’s head. “He’s friendly,” you said, hand dragging down his fur. “Might growl at first, but I swear he won’t bite your hand.” You paused before adding, “Unless you have food. Then he might not be able to tell the difference between that and your fingers.”
A deep feeling in your chest wanted him to crack a smile or actually acknowledge he was being talked to, but when his lips stayed flat, eyes unwavering. He didn’t even flinch when it appeared Cardinal got too impatient to be pet and lifted off the ground to get a closer smell. You smiled as his nose twitched while he carefully inched forward.
Then, finally, the man reached out before keeping his hand held in the air, letting Cardinal come to him instead of forcing a connection. A small, warning growl accompanied a curled lip to show off his canines, but the man didn’t cower. Almost like he needed your approval as well before fully giving into the outreached hand, Cardinal turned his head back towards you, and you slightly laughed.
“You big doaf,” you teased. “Go on.”
That’s all you had to say for Cardinal to dive right into the man’s lap, tongue hanging out of his mouth as his full body wriggled around. The man gave him the most gentle pets you’d ever seen someone do. It made you wonder if he was scared of himself with the way he held back. He stayed firmly upright despite Cardinal jumping around, putting his paws on the man’s chest, and even going around him as far as the leash would allow to nose at his spine before plopping back down into the lap made by criss-crossed-applesauced legs.
You stayed quiet and watched the two mess around. Because your companion wasn’t the most trusting of men, it’d been a while since you’d seen Cardinal get to rough house around with someone that could take it. You weren’t weak at all, but with the amount of energy stored in that lithe black and brown body, most times you ended up curled in a ball on the floor as he continued relentless play attacks at your sides and back.
After a few minutes, Cardinal settled fully as he draped himself across the man’s legs, chest rapidly rising and falling in low pants. Big hands continued running down his short coat in long strokes.
“What’s his name?”
The sound of his voice caught you off guard, the addition to the small three-way circle so sudden it sent your head reeling before you blinked the stunned feeling away. You tried not to note that he had a nice voice. But it was impossible and slotted in the back of your mind.
“Cardinal,” you managed to sputter out.
Definitely not attractive.
“Cardinal,” he parroted, and the most magic thing followed: the corners of his lips curled barely by a hair. “Nice name.”
“I’m glad you think so. I originally wanted to go with Bishop, but I knew a guy with that name in high school, and he was a grade-A asshole,” you babbled. “And I think Cardinal fits him much better.” Your fingers fiddled with the leash. “My name’s (Y/n) . . . if you were wondering.”
He—still the unnamed prisoner—lifted his eyes to meet yours.
“And you probably weren’t wondering,” you backtracked with a sigh, cheeks heating just a bit under his gaze.
“(Y/n).” He nodded once. “Nice name.”
The heat flooded down your neck, and you shyly murmured a thank you. His hazel eyes returned to the puddle of dog between his legs.
“Can you tell me more about him?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” you responded, shifting in your seat as though this were an interview. “He just turned three last week, but I swear he still thinks he’s a puppy. His favorite toy is a stuffed white puppy; he literally cannot sleep without it. Um, we do bite work every Monday night, and then advanced protection on Thursdays. And—”
“All right, that’s it for today,” a low voice near the exit door cut you off, and it was as if a switch had been turned off in the man.
The barely-there breath of a smile dropped instantly, and his back went rigid, hands stopping along near Cardinal’s ribs before ripping away back to his lap. Confused at the lack of pets, Cardinal stood back up and nose nudged near his jaw, but the man was already pushing up from the floor.
You also stood up once he got to full height. “Well, it was nice meeting you . . .”
He glanced over to where the prisoners were already lining up before quietly offering, “Andrew.”
You repeated him just as quiet. A small secret shared. Two names for one; something to hold onto until the next time.
“Thank you for sitting with us,” you said. “He really likes you.”
As though to reinforce your statement, Cardinal all but put his snout into the space between Andrew’s shackled hands, squeezing a soft whine into the air.
“Cody!” the guard barked. “In line.”
Andrew tensed before slowly turning around without a second glance back to you, and just like that, it was only you, the other three dog owners, and the one guard who led you in left in the room. The moment the door locked shut with the prisoners on the other side, the three hounded in on you, questions pouring from their mouths.
“How on earth did you do that?” the older lady asked above the others.
Your brows pinched tightly. “Do what?”
Her eyes flickered towards the door. “I’ve been here for five sessions, and not once has that man interacted with a dog much less the person as well. He never spoke and stood to the side like a creep.”
A warning grumble reverberated from Cardinal just as you scoffed.
“Maybe he just didn’t find anyone quiet enough to feel comfortable to approach,” you said, quick to defend the man who hadn’t even said twenty words to you in a span of the thirty minute session. “Go time,” you said before stepping away from the group with Cardinal right on your heels, falling back into a perfectly matched rhythm.
Before even going into the session, you had wondered if this was going to be your first and final attendance, but when the sun shown brightly and warmed your skin and Cardinal pulled lightly on his leash, acting like he wanted to go back inside and sniff Andrew out, you decided that next week, you’d get back into your car and make the hour commute again.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
With more anticipation than the last time, your knee bounced rapidly as you waited for the prisoners to trickle through into the room. You kept your eyes glued, and if someone had pointed it out, you would have realized that you and Cardinal had the same look: something yearning and waiting and excitement all jumbled and stuffed into your bodies. People did say that owners somehow picked dogs that looked like them without even realizing.
You hadn’t even made Cardinal sit nicely at your feet again, and his little nubbed tail swished back and forth with a fast viciousness only saved for his favorite people, the list usually being just you. But now, you guessed Andrew’s name was right under yours.
At the sound of the door being unlocked, you subconsciously leaned forward. The first few prisoners stepped out, and your breathing stopped as you mentally calculated how many were coming in. To keep everyone from being overwhelmed, only a handful of prisoners were allowed in, and you prayed that Andrew would be the next to step through the threshold.
The corners of your lips curled upward when you finally spotted him in the mix, hair still cropped, hands still shackled, but unlike last week, he seemed more interested in what was going on. It only took him a moment to turn his face towards your small corner, and Cardinal let out a small happy yelp when he started to walk over. You allowed his leash to go slack enough to let him meet Andrew halfway, backside moving back and forth since his tail seemed to not be able to keep up.
Andrew tried not to trip on the dog, keeping his eyes downward and his steps careful until he reached the spot where he sat the last time. His knees creaked just a bit as he lowered down to the ground and kept his feet out straight. Immediately, Cardinal hopped into his lap, rolling stomach up, the universal ask for belly rubs.
With both hands, he started scratching along his soft under-belly coat.
“Hi again,” you said gently.
“Hi,” he greeted back even if he didn’t look up at you. “He seems happy.”
“Oh, you have no idea. I could barely get him to sit in the car on the way over here. I think he missed you the entire week,” you said.
His brows furrowed. “I’ve only met him once.”
You shrugged before leaning down to drop the leash fully knowing Cardinal wasn’t going to dart at all. “That’s all it takes for a dog to decide if you’re their new favorite person or their arch nemesis for the rest of time.”
“Oh.” He frowned, deeply thinking of what he’d done to be on the receiving end of such excitement from an animal. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Your growing smile stretched until your teeth showed. “Plus, he loves scratches and love pats, and you seem to be doing a pretty good job.”
Andrew noticed that his hands had moved on from scratching to gently patting along Cardinal’s ribs in rhythmic motions. His mind raced to what the two of you had been talking about the last time before the session had ended. Normally, he wouldn’t be so invested in a person and dog, but there was something about the way you looked so soft yet fierce while your canine looked fierce while Cardinal didn’t hesitate to jump into his lap.
“You said he did bite work?”
“What?” you asked.
His chin tilted downward, and he looked up at you through his eyebrows. “Last time. You said he did bite work.”
“Oh yeah,” you breathed before giggling to yourself. “He has a lot of energy that can’t all be burned out from just going to a dog park or going for a run. So the moment I moved here, I looked into places that had training courses for him to go through. Plus it’s helpful.”
“Helpful?” he echoed.
“Yeah, ya know . . . if I ever get attacked or some guy comes after me.” You leaned down and settled a hand near Andrew’s on Cardinal's back. “He protects me.”
“Has that ever happened before?” Andrew suddenly asked, almost personally confused as to why he did.
The sessions weren’t supposed to be chat hours. He knew the prison offered this to get him to be more docile. If he didn’t attack the dogs, maybe he’d learn not to attack or hit others. This plus the meds they’d been giving him, he wasn’t sure how trusting he could be, and asking questions about your wellbeing was the complete opposite of being on the offense.
Your eyes glanced down before you leaned back into the seat. “Once after I first moved. I don’t live on campus—I’m here to finish my masters—and after class, this one guy followed me home. I don’t know exactly why; I’d never seen him before, but he tried to corner me near my door. I had just gotten it open when he tried to grab me, and Cardinal came rushing out the door.”
The more you talked, the more rage built in Andrew’s chest, simmering just below his skin. And instead of questioning why he felt this way, he gave into the feeling and clenched his hands. However, Cardinal, the everknowing soul, felt the change in him right away, and Andrew wasn’t ready for him to stand and press his cold nose into the side of his neck, huffing loudly near his ear.
You laughed quietly after seeing how still Andrew had become, confusion on what to do next. Your fingers quickly found the dropped leash on the ground, but before you could give Cardinal a small tug, Andrew shook his head.
“He’s okay,” he murmured.
A wave of sadness crashed over you as you watched him try to wrap his arms around Cardinal but failed since the cuffs kept his wrists together.
Maybe one day once he’s out, he can give Cardinal a full hug quickly flashed through your mind, to which you quickly shook your head to get rid of it. Once Andrew was out, he would disappear from your and Cardinal's life entirely.
One glance toward the clock on the wall told you that only ten minutes remained for the session, and your heart clenched. The thirty minutes weren’t enough.
“What are you in school for?” Andrew asked after a quiet moment, arms finally wrapped awkwardly around Cardinal’s neck, basically using him as an arm wrest.
“Behavior sciences. I like knowing how people tick,” you replied. “Everyone acts differently, but I believe that at our base, we all have a need and want to be liked. It’s human nature to want to please. Kinda like dogs.”
“Is that why you signed up for this?” he spat the last word.
“A little. I think I wanted to find a way to help people since school doesn’t give me time to do extra volunteer hours during the week,” you provided. “I mean, one of our assignments was to find an outlet that could help, and I found Folsom’s application online.”
“Oh.”
“But,” you swiftly kept going, “we only had to go once for the grade.”
Andrew looked back up at you. “Then why are you here?”
“Well, Cardinal seemed to really like this one guy we met last week,” you teased, and he finally gave you more than a hint of a smile, lips pulling outward until lines appeared.
“Just him?”
You pretended to think, eyes looking upward to the ceiling. “Hmmmm, maybe not just Cardinal. I think I liked talking to the guy too.”
A rosyness bloomed across Andrew’s face.
You liked talking to him? Probably the first time someone ever said that, and his first instinct was a desperate want to hear you say it again.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
For the next two years, you always faithfully showed up to the sessions. During that time, you’d gotten to know some about Andrew’s life outside of the concrete walls. You learned that he was a twin, he had two younger brothers and an older adopted brother, whose wife he used to love, and that his father had died before he was born.
He enjoyed skateboarding whenever he could get away from his mom. If he had a slow evening, he liked to listen to nature documentaries on the TV. He told you about his arrest, though barely giving you full details but enough that you decided he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons. Every time he spoke, you listened with intent, wanting to soak up any knowledge about the man you’d come to look forward to seeing every Saturday afternoon.
In return, you told him about your own life. Unlike him, you were an only child, parents still living and married together. You were twenty-five; fifteen years his junior. Your favorite color was green despite Cardinal’s leash and halter being blue—he’d picked it out himself you told him through a fit of giggles. You confessed that after college, you really didn’t have a plan for your life, and that you preferred to go with the flow to see where you ended up.
And somewhere along the way, untold to either, you both felt a certain care for the other.
Andrew had felt drawn to you the moment you had told him that you liked that he was quieter and softer than the others, that he didn’t try to talk over you and remembered the smallest things you’d said. And every time you gave him a compliment like the time you mentioned hazel eyes were your favorite hues and that you enjoyed looking at them, his heart yearned for you a little bit more to the point he started being first in line for the sessions to get the smallest handful of seconds longer in your presence.
You, on the other hand, started feeling something for him when he quietly defended Cardinal. One of the newer volunteers who started coming around five weeks after you started had loudly proclaimed that a Doberman wasn’t fit to be a therapy dog. You’d wanted to shut his comment down, protest that Cardinal had been approved just as his yappy, little rat Chihuahua had when Andrew slowly stood, faced the man, and berated him in front of everyone. You’d been scared that he’d get reprimanded, but the guards never did a thing.
Through these small moments and honest conversations, Saturdays became both of your favorite days of the week.
Well . . . that was until a random Saturday almost two years after you’d first signed up.
The entire drive over, you were excited to tell Andrew that you’d passed your exams, meaning that graduation would be right around the corner for you. The second bit of exciting news was that you’d been offered a three-year contract for a job in Sacramento. You’d get to stay close, see him more often if he let you. School wouldn’t be in the way.
Cardinal could sense your excitement in the air, and he matched your energy the entire way into Folsom. He bounded around your feet, not even listening to your small commands and corrections. Once inside, you were the first to take a seat, Cardinal finally sitting next to the chair like normal.
The door unlocked, and the first few prisoners walked through, and your heart began to race. However, after the fifth and sixth prisoner, with Andrew not in sight, your stomach backflipped before sinking when the door closed.
Andrew hadn’t made it through. There must have been a mistake.
You pushed off the metal chair—the plastic one had broken during one of the sessions where Cardinal managed to push you off and down to his and Andrew’s level—and approached one of the guards.
“Excuse me,” you meekly said, tensing under the man’s steeled gaze. “I’m wondering if Andrew Cody couldn’t make it today. Is he doing okay?”
“Sorry to tell you, but he was released a couple days ago.”
You swallowed thickly. “What? He said he had another three to go—”
“Got out on good behavior. Guess the Canine-Comfort thing did its job. Never seen such a violent man turn into someone normal.”
A sneer pinched your face, and you had to fight the urge to tell him off that Andrew was always normal. A little lost in life, but he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t violent . . . at least towards you. But you found it hard to believe after being around him and his kindness for two full years, seeing nothing but the gentleness he gave you.
You turned and looked around the room before looking back at the guard. “Am I able to leave early?”
Quietly and quickly, he opened the door for you to slip through, and as you walked through the empty hall, Cardinal whined loudly.
“I know, bud, I know,” you whispered. “I’m going to miss him too.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Never once had you slipped Andrew’s mind, not even as a year passed since the last time he’d seen you and Cardinal. He hadn’t even known that the session before he got released was going to be the final time, and if he had, he probably would have done something reckless like tell you to find him once he got out.
But the way he had to leave without even getting to say goodbye tore at his chest whenever you crossed his mind or when he saw a doberman walking on the street. If he imagined hard enough, he could morph whoever to have your soft hair and your sweet smile that Andrew believed to only be reserved for him. Distance made the heart grow fonder, but the longer he was away from you, the more his fondness turned into obsession. He looked for you in every aspect, and before he knew it, he was typing your name into his computer.
To his chagrin, only your past references would ever be brought up in the search engine. He did see that you had graduated a few months after his release, but that meant that you were probably long gone by then. Andrew cursed himself. He hadn’t even told you where he lived.
From then on, he learned to curb his wants and desires for you, only giving in under the cover of night. He’d imagine your voice next to his ear, your weight over his bare chest, fingers dragging down his pecs and abs as your hips rocked against his. His hand would dip below his shorts into his boxers, cock already hard and straining by the time he wrapped his hand around the length. His soft, warm shaft would already be wet and slick with precum. With tantalizing strokes and bucking pelvis, it wouldn’t take him long to cum in his pants by the mere thought of how you’d taste on his tongue.
What really got him spurting though was when, instead of hearing moans and whimpers from your lips, he’d envision you giving him soft commands as you did to Cardinal. A down here, a speak there, a bite down as he filled you completely. And above all, he’d whimper hearing you give him a good boy if he managed to please and do what you’d asked.
In the haze of orgasm before clarity would command his senses once again, he’d reach for his phone and google harnesses and leashes for people, only to swipe the tab away the next morning with burning cheeks.
Though, those moments started to spread far and few between as his mother began to commandeer his life once again. But after he found out she’d been drugging his food, he left. Put the whole life behind him.
He stayed close to Oceanside in case his brothers needed something, but the life of Pope Cody, criminal under his mother’s thumb, was over. With any hope of finding you again keeping his heart beating, he changed. Got a job—one that gave him money the legal way. Started skateboarding again. You’d be proud of him, at least, he believed you’d be proud of him.
It wasn’t until one Saturday morning that his reason for life walked right on by without even stopping.
He nearly fell off his skateboard, because there you were, tan and glowing under the sun. You looked a bit older, not as soft as he once knew you, but the world worked in funny ways like that. It dangled what you wanted the most after they’d been changed. And as he watched you walk away, Cardinal at your side, he wanted to say something—scream something, but he stayed silent. For as much as he begged to see you again, here was no telling if you'd actually wanted the same.
So, Andrew stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean he stayed still. After you’d walked on a few feet, he fell into your invisible footprints along the sand-specked sidewalk. You were none the wiser, earbuds letting music flow too loudly to hear the outside world. He would have to have a discussion with you about that. There was only so much Cardinal could do if you were attacked unsuspectingly. Not knowing your surroundings terrified him to his core.
He followed you for around thirty minutes, enjoying the walk along the way but also enjoying being around you after so long. His eyes trailed your back and the way your shoulder blades and muscles shifted beneath the tank top draped over your torso. The hazel hues lingered at the bottom hem that lifted with each step, revealing more of your ass that was perfectly sculpted by the tight green leggings.
You only stopped when you reached a small white house and used a key to waltz in, and Andrew’s stomach clenched. You’d been living here. You’d only been less than an hour away this entire time. He could have had you sooner.
But now? Now he knew where you lived. Someplace he could come to when you weren’t there. A home that you could possibly invite him in at some point. However, he wasn’t about to waste anymore time away from you.
The next time he was out skating, he didn’t stay long, choosing to follow the memorized path back to your house. It wasn’t his fault you left a second key under a false rock, and it wasn’t his fault that you were out and about. He noted that you desperately needed a security system once he realized there was a lack of cameras.
His footsteps were soft as he walked through the hallway and into the living room. The air smelled like a mix of your perfume—vanilla and salt air—and clean dog shampoo. Even if every aspect of your home held evidence that Cardinal lived there too in toys and the bed near the couch, he was grateful you kept it clear of dog hair.
He moved on toward your bedroom and stopped in the threshold as though the space he was about to enter was too holy for him and his dirty soul. His eyes scanned each inch from your curtain choice to your bedspread: green gingham with white pillows. However, a sprawled piece of navy fabric caught his attention, and he gave into the urge to walk over. It wasn’t until he picked it up that he realized what it was.
His large fingers fiddled with the lacy part of your underwear, thumb running along the hem before stopping at the gusset. There was no dampness, no leftover scent from what he could tell; the pair was clean, and that wouldn't do at all. He carefully laid it back down, spreading it as though he never picked it up in the first place and turned direction.
Your closet was his next victim. His lower half peeked out around the door as he dug through the hamper of your dirty clothes. Your scent was thicker here. Not as sweet, but even more so addicting as it wafted upwards to his face. A small moan crawled up his throat, the sound echoing in your empty bedroom.
However, as he continued digging around, he didn’t hear the soft sound of your door clicking shut or your footsteps as you walked in his direction.
For one split second, you were terrified to see half of a man sticking out of your closet. Cardinal was currently at his handlers for one-on-one time; your one protector was gone the moment you needed him most. And yet, when the man pulled back, revealing the face of the man you’d been dreaming about for a year, your soul settled enough to let you watch what he did next.
In his hands, yesterday's thong dangled between his thick fingers before he slowly brought it up to his nose. Your eyes stayed trained on his chest as it inflated deeply and a groan rumbled right out of it. Something inside you warmed at the scene even if you should have been calling the police.
You shoved your hands into your pockets when he took another deep breath in and decided it was time to make your presence known.
“You know,” you said, making Andrew’s eyes widen and hands drop to his sides. “If you missed me this much, you could have approached me normally. Unless this is your way of showing exactly what you’ve been wanting to do since we parted ways?”
Your thong fell to the floor in a heap, and a redness crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks. He felt frozen, glued to the floor, unable to move even an inch under your hungry gaze. Your head tilted slightly when he made no move, made no attempt to apologize or explain what he was doing.
“Andrew, come here,” you stated, slightly joking.
However, your words seemed to light something in his mind, and he quickly walked over to you in large strides until mere inches were left between your chest and his. He wasn’t much taller than you exactly, but he had a few good bit above you where you had to look up. His shoulders, though, felt larger, and you bet you’d fit right into his chest with enough of him left to curl around you.
Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine.
Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek. Instantly, he leaned into your palm.
“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed.
But an apology wasn’t what you were looking for.
“I asked you a question, Andrew,” you restated. “Have you been thinking about me?” His jaw dropped before clamping back shut. The hand at his cheek traveled upwards and tangled into his grown-out curls. “C’mon; speak. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He swallowed loudly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “I’ve . . . I’ve wanted you.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “For how long?”
“Since Folsom. Since you said you liked hearing me speak.”
A small part of you shattered. “That long?”
He nodded, hair pulling slightly in your grasp. “That long. But then I left. Couldn’t find you after that.”
“Well, now you’ve found me. What are you going to do about it, Andrew?”
At his sides, his hands clenched like they did the first time you met him, and somehow, it clicked to you that this was his tell, his silent plea for someone to help him do what he wanted. You’d done it before; when you first offered your chair for him to sit down only for him to take the ground instead. But here he was, looking at you with expecting eyes as he waited oh so patiently for your next direction.
Your fingers curled deeper into his roots, and the pressure drew a sigh from deep in his lungs.
“Poor Andrew,” you cooed. “Can’t do anything unless I tell you to.”
“Please,” he whined.
“Okay, okay.” Your eyes met his, the hazel almost completely covered by his blown out pupils. “Down.”
As soon as the command hit his brain, neurons firing for him to obey, obey, obey, he fell to the floor, knees crashing down in one fluid motion. His face pressed into your navel, and his hands finally planted themselves on your hips. You took two steps back until your spine molded against the wall, and Andrew shuffled forward to follow.
“Take off my pants and underwear,” you breathed.
His fingers gripped both hems and pulled downward until the fabric puddled at your feet. It took every ounce of self control that Andrew had left to not shove his face between your thighs and breathe you in.
Slowly, you lifted your right leg, using the wall as support, and rested it over his shoulder. Your cunt was now in full display, less than an inch from his nose. He slightly leaned forward, but you held his head in place by his hair.
“Did I tell you to go ahead?” you questioned with lidded eyes.
He shook his head, looking more guilty than he had when you’d caught him with your underwear under his nose after he’d broken into your home.
“Good boys do as they’re told, Andrew.”
“‘M sorry,” he whimpered.
“Do you want to be a good boy?”
“Yes,” he answered almost before you’d even finished the question. “Yes. I wanna be . . .” His words died in his mouth, and your brows pinched.
“Go on, baby. Tell me what you wanna be.”
He huffed, a sound that reminded you of when Cardinal didn’t want to do as told.
“. . . wanna be your good boy.”
An elated expression morphed your face with raised eyebrows and a small smile.
“Then show me what your tongue can do and lick.”
Like a tightly coiled spring, he launched forward, face diving into your cunt all at once. His chin rubbed along your already dampened folds as his tongue began to lap mindlessly at the sensitive space between your clit and your entrance. While that felt good, you needed him higher.
“Slow,” you managed to get out while your fingers used his curls to direct him. When the flat of his tongue ran along your clit, white, zinging pleasure shot up your spine. “There. Right—fuck—there, Andrew.”
Under your hand, Andrew learned quickly, eagerly doing just as you told him. He kept his hands in place while he traded tonguing your throbbing bundle of nerves and licking at your fluttering hole, your taste seeping into his mouth. He hoped that it would stick, that when he fantasized about you next, he’d be able to swallow the lingering taste.
“Fingers,” you panted once ecstasy settled warmly in your navel and your thighs began to tighten around his head. You’d played with yourself enough to know exactly what you needed, and since meeting Andrew, his thick fingers had been a craving during your lapses of self pleasure. “Use your fingers.”
Andrew’s right hand slowly dragged downward across your hip and slightly under where his lips stayed connected to your clit as he sucked it between his teeth. Using his pointer finger, he prodded at your hole, fingertip barely breaching you before sliding right in.
A strangled moan ripped from deep in your throat at the feeling. One of his fingers felt like two of yours, the stretch delicious and borderline painful in sweet tantalizing pressure.
“Andrew!” you whined, head tilting back, throat bared to the ceiling. Your hips canted upwards into his face and finger, desperately searching for something more. “Move.”
He dragged his fingertip along your walls, memorizing every soft ridge until his soaked digit cooled slightly before thrusting it back in. Your cunt clenched tightly around it.
“Hmmmm—fuck!” you keened when he managed to reach a particularly deep part of you that had only been accessible with a toy. “Oh, shit, fucking—Andrew!”
The sound of you calling his name had his cock straining even more against his pants. He’d never admit it, but his cock had already started swelling the moment he inhaled your heady scent from your thong. But now, hearing your whimpers and half-croaked moans that tangled his name, he needed to get some pressure off, or he was going to cum untouched.
You’d been so distracted with his finger and tongue that you failed to notice the first jerk of his hips against your shin. But when he did it a second time and then a third, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Are you—fuck—are you humping my leg?” you asked.
Andrew stilled against you, and you swallowed a moan. You could feel how hard he was against your skin, how large his cock was, even with being restrained by two layers of fabric.
“I’m sor—“ He choked on a moan when your leg rose slightly and pressed into his bulge. He hunched slightly at the waist, face pulling back from your cunt, cheek resting against your thigh with eyes pinched tightly.
It’d been so long since someone touched him, and your approval of letting him use your body for his own pleasure made the fire in his stomach build and roar.
“Go on,” you muttered before pushing back his sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Hump my leg like a fucking mutt, but don’t you dare cum, Andrew.”
He nodded mindlessly, and his hips began to rock once again in slow, dragged out motions. You left him to his pleasure for a few moments before tugging his face back into your core.
“Get back to licking like you know how to do,” you commanded even if you were just as pathetically holding onto strings as he was. “Add another finger and make me cum all over your face.”
You kept your leg as steady as you could manage while Andrew started licking and nibbling at your folds and stiff clit with renewed fervor. His pointer was soon joined with his middle, the delicious stretch even tighter than before. And when his hips jerked, a groan vibrated through your folds, almost sending you right over the edge.
“An-Andrew,” you gasped, overwhelmed with his fingers and tongue working in tandem to make you cum. “C-curl—fucking, I’m—curl your fingers upwards—oh!” Your elongated moan turned into whine when his fingertips managed to brush directly at your g-spot, and stars dotted your vision. “That’s—Andreeewww—feels so—I’m gonna cum!”
Andrew kept humping your shin in methodical thrusts, careful to heed your words and hold back the urge to cum. From below, he lifted his eyes, gaze running up your stomach to your pinched face. He wanted to see what you looked like when you came undone, to see if he obeyed correctly. His lips puckered, and he sucked your clit between them, the tip of his tongue kitten liking the bud as he curled his fingers again. His fingers massaged that small, spongy spot, and the next moment, your thighs clamped down on his ears.
“Cumming—fuck!” you moaned, torso bending over Andrew’s head, hips jerking absentmindedly to seek out as much pleasure as possible.
Your walls rhythmically clenched around his two fingers, and your arousal dripped down to his knuckles. A shudder wracked through your entire being when the bliss started morphing into overstimulation.
“Okay, okay,” you whimpered. “Enough.”
Andrew licked from your fluttering hole up to your clit once last time before pulling back to sit on his calves. Already half-lidded, your eyes fluttered closed, and your head felt back with a soft thunk as you tried to catch your breath, mind reeling and fuzzy. Down by your knees, a slurping sound echoed in the room, and your eyes ripped open in time to see Andrew hollow his cheeks around his fingers.
Once your chest fell into a softer rhythm, you looked down at him. “Andrew.” He paused, fingers halfway in his mouth, and looked up. “Up.”
He pushed off the ground without a second thought and stood to his full height, but his eyes were no longer on you. The blown-out pupils were fixated on a spot just over your shoulder, and when he noticed you’d caught on, he quickly shifted them back to your face. However, your curiosity wouldn’t let you forget, and you looked toward the wall near your face, eyes widened when you realized what he’d been looking at with a yearning look: one of Cardinal’s choke chains that you used specifically for obedience training, its gold links beaming and glinting under your gaze.
You turned back to face him. “Pants and shirt off.”
At lightning speed, he shucked both clothing articles off before neatly folding and setting them on the edge of your bed. A certain soft type of fondness that made you want to keep him forever filled your chest. You raked over his body with a hungry look, letting your eyes linger on the outline of his abs and happy trail that dipped into the waistline of his boxers before lowering down to his thick thighs.
“Good,” you praised, and his chest puffed out ever so slightly. “Now . . . sit on the bed.”
He turned without thinking and walked until his knees hit the edge before slowly lowering until his ass rested on top of your duvet. As he did so, you had also turned around, but in the opposite direction to grab the choke chain from the hook. Its weight settled heavily in your palm, the loop swinging as it dangled.
When you looked up from it toward Andrew, he was already eyeing the chain as well with interest as well as apprehension.
You held the special collar in the air. “Do you want me to use this on you, Andrew?”
He swallowed thickly, and his head bobbed.
You gave him a sharp sht. “Speak.”
“Yes,” he sighed breathily. “Please.”
Instead of answering, you rewarded him by walking over to stand between his spread legs, your thighs brushing and resting between his. Slowly, you fed the chain through the one hoop, allowing the hooped part to loosen and spread. The small links shinked against their metal counterparts, and the sound sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine.
As you would do with Cardinal, you lowered the open-feed loop until it swallowed his head before drooping around his neck. You let it rest against his skin, let him get used to the cool metal as it drew in his radiating body heat.
“There,” you whispered. “You look so good in a collar, Andy.”
His brows pinched tightly, and he locked his confused eyes onto yours. “Andy?”
You nodded. “Every good boy needs a nickname.” Your left pointer finger hooked through the end ring and pulled lightly, making Andrew follow the lead until his face stopped right next to yours. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes,” he was quick to answer this time. “Yes, please. For a long time.”
You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against his lips before muttering, “Crawl up the bed and sit against the headboard.”
The end ring slipped from your finger and landed in the divot between his pecs. Without turning away from you, Andrew used his arms to pull himself farther up the bed, biceps bulging under his weight until he got into the position you wanted him to be in. Seeing that he settled himself, you pulled your shirt off before your bra followed suit.
Almost instantly, your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and you swore a drop of drool escaped the side of Andrew’s lips. Your knees sunk first into the mattress, and then your hands. You slowly crawled over the bed, never looking away from him even as you partly straddled his thighs. He huffed out a soft whine when your nails scraped against his stomach and caught on his boxers.
“Let’s get these off. Lift up,” you said.
Andrew’s hips rose off the bed, giving you enough room to pull the black fabric down. The hem dragged down inch by inch in a teasing manner until his cock was fully revealed. You paused to watch it bob upward against his lower navel, and the heavy girth of it tilted the head to the side as it swayed. Your walls clenched around nothing; your cunt ached for it to fill you to the brim.
Your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you all but ripped his boxers off the rest of the way, flinging them behind you to join your own pile of clothes. For a split second, you wondered if he wanted you to fold them like he had with his shirt and pants, but with the way he was looking at you . . . you could tell he didn’t mind them being wrinkled on the floor.
Hesitantly, you reached out and trailed your finger down the vein on the underside of his length, his cock jolting and spurting a bead of precum when you reached the thick base. His hands, lying next to his thighs, once again began to rhythmically clench into fists.
You shuffled forward more into his lap, one hand gripping his cock while the other took a hold of the dangling end of the choke chain. Your movements paused so you could slide his ruddy tip through your soaked folds, drawing moans from both of you.
A small upward tilt of his hips had you pulling back and hand tightening the chain around his neck in a warning.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Stay.”
When he stilled under you, you slowly positioned back over his cock until the head notched at your opening once the length was thoroughly soaked with your sticky arousal. But even just the first breach felt like you were being split open, and the breath from your lungs ripped up your throat. Andrew’s head tilted back, and his eyes fell shut as his face pinched.
In a tormenting pace, you inched yourself down onto his cock, walls clenching and relaxing at the thick intrusion. Your fingers never left the chain as you pushed your hand into Andrew’s chest for stability. And never once did he move under you.
“You f-feel so big, Andy,” you whimpered when he was around halfway in. “Biggest cock I’ve ever ha-had.”
A groan rumbled through his chest, and his eyes finally opened back up so he could watch your face twitch with pleasure. Your back arched during the last few inches, and a high pitched whine crawled up your throat once he was fully sheathed, his tip digging into spots you didn’t know could be reached. You swore he was up in your throat, and one glance down to the swell in your abdomen almost made you cum right then and there.
Without moving much, you blindly reached down, fingers finding purchase in his wrist to raise his hand to span across your stretched skin.
“You feel that, Andy?” you questioned. “That’s you. So, so, so deep inside me. Reaching all those places I can’t even get to.” Your chin dipped so you could look at him and into his glossy eyes.
In languid rocks, you began to lift off his cock in shallow motions, his length barely pulling out before you dropped back down, cunt fully engulfing him. Your knees deeply dug into the mattress on either side of his hips, and your breasts slightly bounced as you started to quicken your up and down grinds. When your pelvises met, the coarse hairs that hid the base of his cock added needed stimulation to your clit with a tantalizing texture.
After finding a good rhythm that danced between harsh downward sitting and slow dragging to feel his cock run across every ridge of your walls, you moaned, “Andrew. You can move. Fuck me, baby; fuck me like a good boy.”
Large, calloused hands planted themselves on your hips, and Andrew began to meet your thrusts halfway, his grip helping aid you to slide along his length. On a particularly punchy roll, your body jolted, and your hand yanked on the chain to tighten the loop around Andrew's neck. The gold links dug into the sides of his pretty, freckled skin, and put pressure on his pulse points.
You watched as his eyes grew hazy, mouth dropping to draw in labored breaths. After a few seconds, you loosened the chain, and some resemblance of cognitivity returned to his hazel hues.
“You like that?” you asked, pulling your hips up only to drop them back down to pull a whimper from Andrew. “You like being choked? You look so hot under me, Andy. Letting me use you for my own pleasure.”
“Use me,” he parroted. “Use me, please. I want to be goodhnnggg—”
“Use you?” You yanked the chain again, cutting off his words to bring that fuzzy pleasure back to the front of his brain. “Oh, I will, but I need you to stay for me. Can you do that?”
This time you held the chain taut for longer and started rolling your hips again. You kept the chain at a safe tightness, making sure not to pull it and completely cut off his air. But the longer you held it tightly, and the more Andrew’s eyes fluttered, you noticed how glossy they were becoming until the first tear slid down the side of his face.
Your cunt constricted around his cock at the sight, and you dropped the chain out of a strange mix of surprise and concern as you quivered above him.
“Hey,” you softly said, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere?”
The last thing you wanted was to accidentally hurt Andrew, and while the sight of him crying did unspeakable things to your insides, you needed to make sure he was alright before continuing.
“Good,” he croaked once he realized that you’d stopped, eyes hooded and mouth agape as he stared up at you. “So good. Not hurt.”
His left hand rose and covered yours and gently guided your fingers back to the loop that rested hotly between his pecs. He finagled the ring back into your hand and gave a soft tug against it.
“Again—again, please,” he begged pathetically, timber filled with desperation. “Don’t stop.”
“Oh, Andy,” you cooed as your hips started to rock again. “So, so good for me.”
You slightly curled the dangling chain around your pinky before holding the rest tightly against your palm and tugged. A strangled moan fell from Andrew’s parted lips, and the sheer sound had you involuntarily clenching around his cock. Another tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and his chest stuttered under gasping breaths. He looked so beautiful like this: crying underneath the pleasure only you could give him. When his tears started falling more freely along with the whimpers from his mouth, your hips worked harder and faster, rising and falling to stuff yourself to the brim.
Using his chest to balance, you dipped your head to get in closer until the small puffs of his hot breath fanned against your nose. You placed a small kiss to the corner of his parted lips before your tongue darted out to lap at the streaming tears. The small tang of salt was addicting, and it only made you want to see him sob.
“Fuck!” Andrew cried out, hips bucking upwards as you gave your hardest pull yet, the chain constricting around his throat tightly, and you hoped there’d be a pretty bruise-shaped necklace to show for it.
You clicked your tongue against your teeth, abruptly stopping all movement. Your unoccupied hand reached out and closed around his jaw, lifting and shaking his head to coax his eyes back open and make them focus on you.
“What did I say?” you asked, tone deep, face inches from his.
Andrew’s mouth flopped open, and he floundered for an answer even if all words seemed to escape him. The only expression he could muster was a dumb little thing, brows furrowed, corners of his lips tugged downward in a pout.
You feigned disappointment and shook your head. Your hand left his jaw in order to take a new hold of the choke chain and loop. “Ya’ know, Andy, good dogs follow orders.”
“No, no—” His hands scrambled, darting between the chain, your hands, and your hips like he didn’t know where to touch or even if he could touch. “Please, please. ‘M good—swear I’m good; ‘m your good boy.”
“Then what did I say?” You ground down into his hip as hard as you could, and you relished in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”
“Then what did I say?” You squeezed your walls around him as hard as you possibly could, relishing in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”
“Stay!” His chest heaved. “You told me to stay!”
“Good boy,” you murmured, other hand coming up to gently brush his fallen curls from his forehead. He went crosseyed to track your movements. “My good boy.”
“Y-your good boy,” he stuttered.
Two fingers from your right hand hooked into the ring, and two fingers from your left slid between his lips, fingertips settling in the middle of his tongue. You tugged, and his lips closed around your digits, suckling softly as you found the perfect rhythm to drive the head of his cock into the soft, sensitive spots inside you.
Each draw back made a wet, squelching sound, your inner thighs and his base already soaked with your essence. Your walls clenched and held around his cock, desperate to keep him in and hold him inside.
“Doing—fuck—doing so well f’r me, Andy,” you slurred. The pleasure pit in your stomach was quickly tightening, and you knew you were so close to cumming, but there was just something missing.
Andrew hadn’t moved since you told him the second time to stay still, but that’s not what you wanted at all anymore. In one fluid motion, you tilted to the side and used the momentum to flip you both. At the feeling of turning over, Andrew’s eyes popped wide open. His cock hadn't even slipped out, length still buried inside you. Your hips continued softly rocking against him, but the new position had somehow made him reach deeper.
“C’mon, Andy,” you moaned when he shifted forward to put his hands on both sides of your face to tower over you. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You gave the chain a yank to emphasize your wants, and Andrew was quick to comply.
His hips drew back before kicking forward, and your legs twitched at the force. Every thrust had your spine digging and pushing up the bed and your mouth opening for wanton moans to fill his ears. At his shoulder, your nails dug into his skin and worked with the tight chain to keep him against you.
Andrew’s hazel eyes shifted along your face, gazing at how he was going to bring you over the edge from his cock alone. When your moans began to change into high-pitched songs that broke halfway through choked gasps, he sat up slightly and placed his hands under your legs to push them up until the tops of your thighs brushed against your breasts.
“Oh—oh! Fucking—Andrew!” you mewled, head tipping back to push into the pillow. “So fucking deep—fucking me so well! Gonna make me cum!”
With a fire lit in his stomach, his hips pistoned against you with wet plaps, stilling momentarily to grind and let his tip rut into your soft spot. By now, your walls gripped him so tightly it was almost impossible to draw back all the way.
“Gonna-gonna—Andyyyyyyy!” Your body tensed beneath him as your orgasm ripped through you, sending shockwaves up and down your limbs.
Andrew kept his pace slow, wanting to draw out as much pleasure as he could for you, but his hips started to stutter intermittently, waiting for you to tell him to either pull out and stay inside, not expecting to get to finish. However, when your legs locked together at his lower back to push him as deep as possible, he grunted loudly.
“You can cum inside, Andrew,” you panted, still experiencing the softer licks of pleasure that made you feel floaty. For one last measure, you pulled the chain taut once again. “Be good and cum.”
Andrew stilled in your grasp, only needing your words and chain for his cock to start spurting cum along your walls. A low whimper whistled through his partly opened lips, and his eyes closed once again to focus on the way the chain dug into his neck, cutting off what he needed for the haze to grow at the edges of his mind. He rutted against you in half, unfinished thrusts, a mix of his spend and your creamy arousal coating the length of his cock.
When he had nothing left to give, his arms slightly gave out, and his weight settled on top of you. You hummed lowly at the feeling and finally dropped the chain in order to run your hands through his curls. Every so often, you’d lift your chin to place small kisses along his cheek and jaw, whispering soft praises into his skin.
The two of you lied there for several moments, basking in the afterglow and breathing in the scent of sex and something so entirely each other, neither of you wanting to let go at all. It wasn’t until Andrew leaned back and his cock slid out of you did you sit up slightly to look at him directly.
“Thank you,” you softly said, one of your fingers still twirling a stray auburn curl.
Andrew tilted his head slightly. “For what?”
“For this, silly boy,” you laugh, the sound airy with disbelief. “You found me again.”
He looked rather bashful after you said that before his lips formed into a frown. “Should’ve found you earlier.”
“Maybe . . .” you trailed, “but we’re here now, and I’m not letting you disappear from my life again, Andrew Cody.”
Finally, he fully smiled at you, crooked teeth on display. “Okay.”
“Good,” you said, head bobbing in a nod. “Because you wouldn’t have to just deal with me. I will put Cardinal on your ass before you could even think of leaving without saying something.”
rabbot who expect you to be kneeling in front of the door when either one of them gets home from a long shift, your soft skin decorated in snow-white lace and soft floppy bunny ears on the top of your head, a fluffy soft tail peaking out from your underwear and sheer lacy stockings pulled up to your knees
you being the first thing they see after a long shift instantly soothes them, and then you're hauled over their big beefy shoulders and swept off to your shared bedroom, bouncing on their cocks while your fluffy ears flop with each hop
"you're so good at hopping on my lap, bunny"
"aww you're just a sweet little baby, aren't you"
"fuck yourself dumb on daddy's big dick, lil bunny"
and they aren't satisfied until your cream is coating the whole length of their cocks and dripping down to make a little puddle on the sheets below, and your ass is swollen red from their lil love taps
they just love their little free use bunny sooo much <33
robby and jack who currently have you sandwiched in between them in your tiny apartment kitchen, with robby in front of you and jack behind, the tiny space forcing more proximity with robby and jacks large bodies leaning against your counters
your tiny sleep shorts pool around your ankles on the floor, and robby's big hands shove up the fabric of your t-shirt to cup your tits, while jack palms the globes of your ass, laying a sharp smack when he feels like watching the fat ripple against his hips
your mouth is full of robby, soft lips wrapped around the girth of his cock as you barely manage to breathe through your nose, the soft, needy whines leaving your throat and vibrating his whole length have him groaning above you, his hand moving down to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail
jack is rocking your entire body forward, your lips greedily taking more and more of robby's length, the hand in your hair guiding your head's movements, and jack's hand that's now wrapped snug around your throat keeps you steady and in place
you're pressed so tightly against their beefy frames that there's nowhere to run or hide, not that you would, but the stimulation is so overwhelming, with the feeling of both pairs of hands always touching you, caring for you, doting on you, while jack's cock hits deep inside of your drooling walls
the sound of your whines and the wet plaps of your pussy and mouth have you dripping down your thighs, the shiny slick glowing in the lamplight
"god, you love this, don't you? I can't tell whose greedier. is it this pussy? or our sweet little girl? what do you think, robby?"
"this mouth could be a good contender too... jesus, she's dripping drool down onto the floor, jack. gooood fucking girl, aren't you, baby?"
and you just love your daddies so much, only thinking of how sweet it was for them to come check on you after their long shift, and they're still taking care of you <3
Heyy doll! Love your work like RAHHH you're so tea with it!
So like imagine the Cody brothers going to rob a store and Pope sees his girlfriend there. She purposefully gives attitude and refuses to get on the ground or follow orders from him knowing he wouldn't hurt her. It lokey turns him on.
Lmk what you think 😉
the noise that just left my mouth was animalistic this is so creative RAHHHHHHH
the music playing in the jewelry store was almost putting you to sleep as you waited in the line. the day was already dragging and you were just ready to go home, see pope, and go to bed. all you needed was to get the bracelet that he had gotten you for your anniversary fixed. the stupid clasp snapped when it got caught at work so now here you were, trying to get it fixed so you didn't have to explain to him that you broke it. the man in front of you was taking his sweet old time, looking over every single ring with a fine tooth comb. your foot was tapping against the floor impatiently, the scowl on your face giving away that you were in somewhat of a rush. it wasn't even busy in here, why were they taking so long?
you didn't even turn as you heard the bell of the shop door go off as someone entered, the jeweler behind the counter looking up to greet the incoming guests but his smile immediately fell. "everybody on the ground!" an all too familiar voice boomed from behind you, your head immediately snapping behind you to where 3 masked men stood, guns and bags in all of their hands. this could not be fucking happening. the few customers and jewelers were quick to all drop to the ground, your arms staying crossed tightly over your chest. pope spotted you immediately, the eyes behind his mask staring holes into you. you could see the way craig and deran looked at you before to pope, confused as to how to handle you. "get the fuck on the ground lady," craig finally spat out, him and deran making their way around the counter to where the jeweler was. they were quick to start barking orders at him to fill their bags, pope marching straight up to you to grab you arm tightly.
"just lay on the fucking ground," he mumbled through the mask, the anger radiating off of him at your disobedience. "can you fucking idiots hurry up? i have a very annoying boyfriend at home who will be absolutely fuming if my bracelet is broken," you sighed, moving to stand up to the counter to look over it at the man who was frozen on the ground. a chill ran down you at the feeling of a gun barrel being pressed to your spine, an arm hooking around your neck to pull you back into his chest. "fill the bags man or i'll fucking shoot her," pope spat to the jeweler, his arm tight around your neck but not tight enough to hurt you. you couldn't help but roll your eyes, pushing back against pope a little. the small breath that left his lips from the contact made you smirk, deran pulling the man to stand before craig was moving towards the back where they kept the safe.
"lady just get on the ground," the guy who was trying to buy a ring hissed at you, both you and pope's heads snapping towards him. the gun immediately left your back and was pointed towards him, the man shrieking and hiding. "don't fucking tell her what to do. i'm in charge," pope yelled, his arm never leaving your neck. you couldn't help the annoyed sigh that left your lips, watching as the other two began to stuff their bags full of jewelry and any cash they could get their hands n. "so is my bracelet going to get fixed?" you interrupted, the two turning to look at pope with raised eyebrows through their masks. you could tell they were pissed you were foiling their plans, even more annoyed that pope was just letting you mouth off.
the jeweler didn't even answer you, his face stuck to the ground in fear. the sound of the gun cocking making everyone freeze from the shaking they were doing. "keep your fucking trap shut," pope spoke directly in your ear, the fabric of his mask tickling your ear. the gun was pressed to your ribcage now, his grip around your throat tightening causing your thighs to clench tightly. "you're sick," he whispered, the obvious hard on in his pants digging into your back. you watched as they finished shoveling the jewelry in, pope pushing you towards the counter so you were now stuck between him and the glass. "get up and fix the bracelet," pope spoke, pointing the gun at the man still on the ground. craig and deran shot you both a look, a satisfied smirk on your lips.
it only took 10 minutes, the man shakily fixing your bracelet as pope stayed pressed against you, continuously aiming the gun between you and the man. when he finally he handed it over, pope snatched it from your hand. "you all just go back to what you were doing. we will be taking her," pope yelled out, dragging you backwards out of the store with his arm still around you. your legs were kicking and arms were flailing, nails digging into his arms as he threw you into their van, deran and craig climbing into the front before they were speeding off. "are you fucking crazy?" pope immediately, yelled at you as they all ripped their masks off. you were simply pissed, staring straight out the window with your arms crossed over your chest. his hand was quick to grip your jaw tightly, forcing you to look at him. "you're going to regret that little stunt when we get home," he mumbled, cheeks squeezed tightly in his hand.
you knew he could only be mad for so long. he'd fuck it out later.
❤︎ Summary : It’s you and your boyfriends weekly movie night. You hate scary movies, but he so happens to pick one tonight. He knows you’re scared and does what ever he can to sooth you.
❤︎ CW : NSFW!! MDNI!! older!bf x reader. implied age gap. blowjob. cum swallowing. clit stimulation. brief mention of fingering. fauxcest ( possible daddy kink and age play) reader pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, honey, puppy, babydoll, precious girl, good girl) OC (Daddy). no use of y/n. lmk if i forgot anything!!
❤︎ 1.0k
౨ৎ
“I’m scared, Daddy” you whine, trying to hide yourself in your boyfriend's neck.
“There’s no need to be scared, angel. It’s all fake, you know” your boyfriend soothes, gently rubbing your hip to try and calm you down a little.
Your boyfriend has chosen a scary movie for your guys' weekly movie night. You always pick a RomCom or something you know he would also enjoy. But this time, he chose a movie that, to you, looked absolutely terrifying.
“I know it’s fake. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that it's scary.”
“How about this? If you absolutely can’t take it anymore, I’ll change it” he offers.
“Ok” you whisper, leaning your head on his broad shoulder as the movie starts playing.
“You’ll be fine. I promise.”
You’re about fifteen minutes into the movie and you’re already feeling uneasy. Nothing bad has even really happened yet, but the suspense of it all is killing you.
“Daddy” you whimper, “I can’t..I can’t do it.”
Your boyfriend notices how your trembling and your eyes are blown wide with fear. He decided to pick this movie because he’s trying to toughen you up a little. He loves how soft and innocent you are, but you need to see certain things and realize what they mean. Maybe a horror movie isn’t the best way to go about this, but he wants to start slow.
“Shh. It’s ok, honey. You’re ok. Daddy’s got you” he coos, moving your head from his shoulder down to his lap. You start to feel a little more relaxed in this new position. The warmness of him is making you feel all fuzzy inside and making your brain turn off.
Now you hit the hour mark. The jump scares are becoming more prominent and the action in the movie picking up. You're writhing around on the couch; your head keeps on moving and your shoulders keep digging into your boyfriend's thighs.
“Stop moving, baby. You're only making it worse” he lightly scolds. He is getting a tad bit annoyed with you. All the whimpering and screams that keep coming from you are distracting him to no end.
Then, when you decide to nuzzle into his crotch, an idea pops into his brain. “Move your head, sweetheart” he instructs. You lift your head up as he unzips his jeans.
Your brows are furrowed in confusion as to what he was doing. He takes his pants off and moves his boxers down, freeing his semi hard cock.
“What are you-“
“Shh, puppy. It’s ok. Just take it for Daddy” he croons, gently laying your head back down and rubbing his tip on your lips.
On instinct, you immediately open your mouth and suckling on his tip like it’s a lollipop.
He knows that when anything you can suck on is in your mouth, your brain becomes mush and you calm down almost immediately. “See. Such a good girl.”
Your brain is still trying to comprehend what’s going on, but all you can really think about is your boyfriend's cock in your mouth. You love his cock—you actually love everything about it. Most of the time, you have to beg him for it, but this time he just gave it to you without you having to whine for it. He’s such a nice Daddy.
The movie is at its climax, and you’re completely calm ; your brain is all fuzzy as you're still suckling on his tip. He came a few times already but that just adds another sense of relaxation to you. One thing you love just as much as his cock is his cum down your throat.
“My precious girl. Making Daddy feel so good” he mumbles, spreading your legs a little to show his appreciation to you. “Is your clit all achy, baby?”
“Mmm” you moan as he slides his hand through your panties—finding your throbbing clit almost immediately.
“Needy puppy” he whispers, rubbing slow circles around your clit and moving down every once in a while to your sopping wet hole.
You two aren’t even really paying attention to the movie. You’re too focused on making him cum for a third time and he’s focused on your very swollen clit.
“Does pleasing Daddy turn you on this much?” he patronizes.
You can’t even find it in yourself to respond to his question. Your brain is practically spilling out at this point and your mouth is sucking him like it’s the only thing it knows how to do.
You feel your eyes start to roll back into your head. Your climax is approaching quickly and you feel your boyfriend's hip start to shutter—meaning he is very close.
“I’m gonna come down your pretty little throat, princess. Daddy wants you to taste what you’ve done to him” he groans.
“Mhm” you murmur, still sucking on his tip like your life depended on it.
Moments later you feel the salty liquid spill down your throat. You sigh in pleasure and swallow every last drop—even taking him out of your mouth to tap the remainder on your tongue.
“Such a good puppy. Now come for me, honey. Come on.”
You come milliseconds after his coax. You feel your wetness pool beneath you on the couch cushion and your pussy clenching around nothing. “Mm. So good” you babble. Your brain is still mush and have drool and cum spilling out of your mouth. You smile up at your boyfriend which makes him smile back.
“You’re so beautiful, babydoll” he coos, wiping the drool cum mixture from your mouth.
You forgot how you even got here in the first place, but your boyfriend notices the movie has been over for probably the last twenty or so minutes. “Hm. I guess we have to start it over again.”
౨ৎ
hai! i’m going back to my roots with this fic. i’ve mostly been focusing on character x readers, so i thought i would write one for old times sake. this fic was originally going to be beau arlen, then pope cody, and then finally i decide to make it older bf x reader. also thank you to anon for lowkey persuading me to do this. this post was a very big inspiration as well! i hope you enjoyed!! much love!! 🎬
summary: A simple medical appointment should have been enough to deal with your skin irritation, but you have a problem. The problem? Dr. Abbotand all his charm, touches, and sweetly daring words.
Remember: English is NOT my first language. Support real authors and don't use AI!
notes: Wow, those who are alive always show up! Posting this outburst I had because I thought: "Hmm, I'm going through this horrible situation, why not write something and include the delicious Jack Abbot?" And VOILÀ!
warnings: bad writing | 18 M D N I | inaccurate medical information (but I do research a lot beforehand, I swear!) | excessive use of “you” (I use it A LOT) | adult content | medical setting | doctor-patient relationship | age gap | power imbalance | sexual tension | professional boundaries being tested | intimate examination | body hair & SAY NO TO BEAUTY PRESSURE! | skin irritation | ingrown hairs | folliculitis | shameless flirting (Abbot, you damn pervert!) | thigh kisses | suggestive touching | sexual/suggestive content | forbidden romance | older man | slow burn (?). | I don't know how to write spicy things :(
You were definitely giving up on hair removal. Oh, screw aesthetic pressure and screw the misogynistic opinions vomited out there; you were tired of the allergies, the itching, and worst of all, the inflamed hairs that appeared on your skin whenever you decided to take time to shave your body hair.
No matter how careful you were, using the best products and religiously following a routine regarding skincare in general or intimate care, lately nothing was working out. You had tried wax, laser, razor, and even resorted to special creams, but nothing worked. The skin on your groin area would redden, burns would irritate your skin, but the worst of all was the immeasurable and uncontrollable itching crisis that radiated wherever you had shaved.
That's why you were now sitting in the hard, uncomfortable chair of the medical office in Pittsburgh. Of course, it wasn't an absurd emergency, but you simply couldn't stand your sensitive skin anymore and the visceral need to tear a piece of yourself off to soothe whatever that damn possible allergy was. Your teeth nibbled at the dry skin of your lower lip, and surely your cheeks were flushed, because damn, what doctor in their right mind was that?
He could really be a model for some sexy catalog for forty-year-old spinsters. While the attending physician read your referral, your eyes roamed over the robust and attractive figure who would attend to you. 'Dr. Abbot', you read on the badge as soon as you opened the door to the medical room that now seemed to have less than two square meters, and the air increasingly scarcer whenever you felt the brown eyes with some greenish spots divert from the tablet screen to give you a peek.
Of course, nothing helped you being so brazen, but no one could blame you. The man was so hot. Broad shoulders, muscular arms compressed by the blue hospital uniform, curly hair with its silver coverage giving a charming and mature air to the man; you observed the expression lines and wondered how much older the doctor was. You deduced about eight to ten years of difference, but please, not that it mattered to you, because the more virile and experienced, the better.
"Dear, I need you to answer my question." Your inappropriate thoughts were cut off by the older man's hoarse voice, causing a shiver and contraction in your belly. If your cheeks were red before, now you could be mistaken for the ripest tomato in the plantation.
The air in the office seemed to thicken, becoming a dense and hot fluid that filled your lungs with a difficulty that went beyond the allergy. You blinked, trying to look away from that face that seemed sculpted to challenge the sanity of anyone with a minimum of blood pulsation, and forced yourself to process the question he had asked. The hoarse, deep voice still echoed in your ears, vibrating at some frequency that made your stomach contract in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the groin irritation.
"Sorry" you managed to articulate, your voice coming out higher than usual. "I... the question?" Your fingers intertwined on your lap, a desperate attempt to keep your hands occupied. The dry skin on your lower lip burned, a constant reminder of your anxiety, but it was a welcome distraction from the intensity of that brownish-green gaze now fixed entirely on you.
Abbot tilted his head, a slow and deliberate movement that made a strand of gray hair escape from the top of his head and fall over his forehead. Was it possible for hair and a forehead to be so sexy? The attending physician made no move to push it away. "I asked..." he repeated, his voice maintaining that deep, measured tone, as if explaining something to a distracted child, "How long have you been experiencing these symptoms? And, more specifically, when was the last time you shaved the area?" He raised an eyebrow, the expression line on his forehead deepening. "Try to focus, dear."
Dear. The word hung in the air between them, laden with a familiarity that the professional environment should not allow. You swallowed hard, feeling the heat on your face intensify even more, and you knew it was almost pathetic, that whole situation. God, you were allergic to hair removal, but instead of paying attention to the doctor, you stood there like an idiot drooling over him and feeling your intimate area lubricating on its own. In a way, you suspected he knew exactly the effect his own voice and presence had on you; you felt he was delighting in it, using the position of power that the blue emergency uniform conferred on him to destabilize you even further.
"It was... it was on Monday" you answered, the memory of the act itself making your groin skin itch psychosomatically. "I used a... a new razor, but the same brand as always, but..."
"But your skin decided to go on strike" he completed, the corner of his lips curving into a smile to try to ease your nervousness. It was a cynical, professional smile, but it had a hint of malicious amusement. Abbot slid the chair and stood up, walking toward you; you felt the air leave your lungs and your heart pounding against your ribs. Now with him standing, you could better admire the full length of his fit body. "Show me."
You gasped. "Show what?" The question came out more like a squeak than a legitimate inquiry, after all, you knew what he wanted. He was a doctor, you were there for an exam, but the idea of lowering your denim skirt in front of that man and exposing the irritated area to that clinical gaze that seemed capable of seeing through anything was terrifying and, in a way you hated to admit, electrifying.
The gray-haired man raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, but the smile remained. "The affected area. So I can assess the extent of the irritation. Unless, of course, you prefer to describe the texture and coloration of your skin while I take notes." Abbot picked up the tablet from the table and held a penlight, waiting.
You bit your lower lip, feeling the dry skin split slightly and the metallic taste of blood flood your tongue. Damn man. With a sigh that was half resignation, half frustration, you stood up, your hands trembling slightly as you unbuttoned your skirt. The zipper came down with a harsh sound that echoed in the silence of the room; you moved away just enough to stand near the examination table, the cold plastic surface against the back of your thighs. You felt hot in several places, so you pulled the skirt down and, incredibly, without taking your eyes off the taller man, creating an electrifying current as the dull thud of the garment falling to the floor resounded in the room. Your panties, your trembling fingers pulled them down just enough to expose the groin area, while you thanked the gods for wearing a cute set.
The cold air of the office kissed your sensitive skin, and a shiver ran down your spine. The redness was vivid, dotted with small red bumps of sensitivity due to the clear exacerbated friction on the skin areas. The hairs, some already starting to grow back, created small painful mounds. It was a map of frustration and discomfort; you felt a sharp shame at having to show that to Dr. Abbot.
He approached again, the sound of the chair moving away followed by his heavy, confident steps. You heard the sound of latex gloves being stretched, a dry snap that made your body tense even more. He took a look and leaned over you. The fluorescent ceiling light cast shadows on his face, highlighting the lines around his eyes and mouth, the marks of someone who lived intensely or perhaps just of someone who worked too much. Deep down, you discovered you wanted to know more and unravel that man.
The silence that followed the snap of the gloves was absolute, broken only by the irregular sound of your own breathing and the distant hum of the air conditioning system. You were there, exposed, the denim skirt bunched at your feet like an offering, the black lace panties shifted just enough to reveal the damage your quest for aesthetic perfection had caused. And he, Dr. Abbot, remained still for a moment, his brownish-green eyes traversing the inflamed landscape of your groin with a slowness that bordered on deliberate.
"Well, well" he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a verbalized thought, and the sound of it ran down your spine like cold fingers. What he saw there was a classic picture of severe irritation: the skin, which should be smooth and uniform, appeared flushed in a shade ranging from deep pink to purplish-red, especially in areas of greater friction. Small spots dotted the surface; the hairs, those damned hairs you struggled so hard to eradicate, were already starting to sprout again, and in several points, they couldn't break through the top layer of skin, curving under the surface and creating those small irritated mounds that hurt just to look at.
He leaned in, the expression lines around his eyes analyzing the skin; you analyzed him as he analyzed your groin; you inadvertently found yourself observing the deep furrows of sleepless nights and an intensity that went beyond medical professionalism. You smelled the doctor's perfume due to the proximity, a woody fragrance with a subtle touch of vanilla enveloping you like a veil, and for a moment, you completely forgot about the itching, the irritation, and everything except the fact that that man was centimeters from your most intimate skin.
"Attention" he ordered, his voice now having a roughness that wasn't there before. You blinked and met his gaze; what you saw there made your heart race it was no longer just the doctor evaluating the patient. There was something more, a spark of interest he wasn't trying hard to hide.
"This is going to sting a little" he warned, and the promise in his words was as exciting as it was threatening.
His gloved fingers touched your skin, and the contact of the cold latex against the inflamed area was a shock that made you hold your breath. He pressed gently around one of the follicles, the pressure precise and controlled, but every movement seemed calculated to elicit a reaction from you.
"Here" he said, tracing the outline of one of the most irritated areas with his fingertip, "you have an incipient bacterial folliculitis. Probably caused by razor friction and contamination from ingrown hairs."
His finger moved to another area, closer to the point where the skin became more sensitive, where the tissue was thinner and more reactive. "And here" he continued, his voice maintaining that clinical tone that contrasted with the intensity of his gaze, "the irritation is purely mechanical. Your skin is screaming for a rest, dear."
The word "dear" came from his lips like a caress, and you felt a tremor run through your body a tremor that had nothing to do with the room temperature or skin irritation. Your breathing became shorter, more shallow, and you realized you were holding air each time his fingers moved over your skin. It was ridiculous, professionally inappropriate, but you couldn't help it. With each touch, each word spoken in that hoarse voice, the heat between your legs intensified, a growing moisture you desperately hoped he wouldn't notice.
But he noticed, of course he noticed. His eyes diverted from the battlefield that was your skin to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was one of pure knowledge. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and was delighting in every second.
"You're flushed" Abbot observed, and it wasn't a question. It was a statement, a fact he had discovered by looking at your face, now using it as a weapon. His fingers still hovered over your skin, not touching, but so close you could feel the heat radiating from the latex. "It's not just the irritation, is it? There's something more."
You held your breath, your eyes fixed on his, unable to look away. He was so close you could see every tiny detail of his face, the small wrinkles around his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly into a smile that was both professional and deeply personal. Your body responded to every word, every touch, and you knew he perceived every involuntary contraction, every barely contained sigh.
"How long have you been subjecting yourself to this?" he asked, his voice softer now, but still laden with an intensity that made your stomach contract. "How many years have you spent fighting against something that is perfectly natural?"
"Since adolescence" you answered, your voice coming out rougher than intended. "It's always been like this. I always heard it was ugly, that women shouldn't have hair. And then magazines, friends, boyfriends..."
"Boyfriends?" he repeated, as if asking, and there was something in the way he said the word, a note of disdain mixed with curiosity. "Did they demand that you shave?"
"Some..." you admitted, feeling shame burning in your cheeks. "Most, actually. They said it was more hygienic, prettier..."
"Tsk... Prettier?" he interrupted, and the tone of his voice was one of pure incredulity. "That's a myth, dear. Hair has a protective function. There's nothing unhygienic about having body hair." His fingers, which had been hovering over your skin, finally moved, tracing a line along the edge of the affected area a touch that was almost a caress. "In fact, some people find it extremely attractive. They weren't real men."
Your heart raced. "Attractive?" question escaped before you could contain it.
He looked up, meeting your eyes, and the smile that formed on his lips was different from anything you had seen so far. It wasn't the professional smile, nor the malicious one. It was something more personal, more intimate. "Yes..." he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Natural hair can be very... sensual. The texture, the way it contrasts with smooth skin. There's a beauty in it that many ignore because of imposed standards."
His words were like a balm and a provocation at the same time. You felt the heat spread through your chest, and the moisture between your legs intensified. He was talking about hair, hair removal, aesthetic pressure, but there was something in his gaze and his voice that went far beyond that.
"You don't need to shave to be beautiful" he continued, and his fingers moved again, tracing a slow path along the inside of your thigh, away from the irritated area, but still dangerously close. "You don't need to subject yourself to this to be desired." The word "desired" hung in the air between them, laden with unspoken promises. "In fact, there are those who prefer it this way. Who think that skin in its natural state is much more... inviting."
His gaze fixed on yours, and you could see the desire there, barely disguised by the professional facade. He was using the consultation to his advantage, every word, every touch calculated to provoke a reaction from you, to make you feel exposed not just physically, but on a much deeper level. And you, against all your common sense, were loving every second.
"Dr. Abbot" you began, your voice trembling, "is this... appropriate?"
He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It depends on what you mean by appropriate" he replied, and the roughness in his voice made your body tremble, along with the squeeze on your thigh.
The silence stretched between them, charged with possibilities. You could feel your heart beating so hard you were sure he could hear it too. Desire burned in his eyes, and you knew your own was no less evident.
"What do you want?" the question escaped, before you could think. The question hung between you like an ember, incandescent and ready to burn everything it touched. You had asked it without thinking, driven by an impulse that came from a place so deep and visceral you could barely recognize it as your own. You needed to hear him say it. You needed to know if what you saw in those brownish-green eyes was real or if it was just another projection of your feverish mind, affected by the heat of the room and the shame of being so exposed.
Abbot leaned closer, and the movement was so slow, so deliberate, that each centimeter of approach seemed an eternity. His lips were now centimeters from your skin, and you could feel his warm breath caressing the inside of your thigh a caress that wasn't a touch, but burned as if it were. His eyes never left yours, fixed and so intense, as if he were reading every thought passing through your mind.
"What do I want?" he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper that vibrated against your skin like distant thunder. "For you to stop hurting yourself over something that doesn't matter. For you to see that you're beautiful just as you are, with or without hair. For you to understand that what others think has no value compared to what you feel." A pause, the silence stretching, and then, even lower, so you almost didn't hear: "And, perhaps, for you to allow me to show you how desirable you are in your natural state."
The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. You felt your lungs empty, your heart beating so hard that each pulsation echoed in your ears like a drum. Your eyes were fixed on his, your entire body trembling. There wasn't a hint of playfulness in that gaze, much less pretense. There was only desire, the purest and rawest, disguised by the professional facade he maintained, but now breaking through every line of his face.
He wasn't joking, and the choice was entirely yours.
You could stand up, pull up your skirt, thank him, and leave that room as if nothing had happened. You could pretend you hadn't seen what was written on his face, hadn't felt the touch of his fingers, hadn't heard the promise in his words. You could go back to your life, to the itching, the frustration, the aesthetic pressure that consumed you.
But you didn't want to.
Desire burned in your chest like a fire, and every fiber of your body cried out for what Abbot offered. You wanted to know what it was like to be desired, not despite your hair, but because of it. You wanted to feel the touch of a man who saw beauty where so many others saw flaw. You wanted to surrender to that moment, to that man, and let him take you wherever he wanted.
And then, without thinking, you did the only thing that made sense: your body relaxed, a sigh escaped your lips, and you tilted your head in an almost imperceptible movement of surrender. There were no words, no need for them. Your gaze said everything.
Abbot saw it, and it made something change completely; for a moment, the professional mask fell away entirely, and the man who emerged from there was made of pure desire and contained hunger. His eyes darkened, the line of his jaw tensed as if he were holding something back with all his might. After all, you were a cutie and had attracted him since you entered the office all shy and embarrassed about your problem.
"I won't regret this" Abbot said in a firm statement.
And so, your world spun when the gray-haired man's lips finally touched the inside of your thigh; the contact was like electricity coursing through your entire body. You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the examination table while your eyes closed involuntarily. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he were testing the temperature of your skin, learning its texture. But the doctor didn't waste much time, deepening between your thighs, and the softness transformed into something more voracious.
His mouth moved along your thigh, tracing a slow and deliberate path toward the area you had exposed. His lips were warm, soft, and each kiss left a trail of fire on your sensitive skin. He kissed the irritated areas, but with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment, as if he were not only desiring but also healing. His tongue brushed lightly over one of the irritated mounds, making you let out a muffled moan, your fingers burying themselves in Abbot's beautiful hair.
"You're so soft here" he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice making you shudder. "So warm. Do you feel it? How much your body is responding?"
You couldn't answer. Words seemed to have dissolved somewhere between your chest and throat, replaced by a primal need that dominated all your senses. Your trembling fingers moved on their own, pulling him closer, burying him in your thighs, as if you could fuse him into you.
He laughed, a low, hoarse sound that vibrated against your skin, and the sensation was almost unbearable. "Impatient" he murmured, giving a bite that sent a shock to the center of your longing core, which was already wetting your panties.
While his lips continued their upward path, his free hand began to move, gloved fingers tracing a slow and deliberate path. They climbed, caressing the inside of your thigh, avoiding the most irritated areas to touch the skin that was still smooth, soft. His fingers drew slow, lazy circles, each movement designed to provoke, to anticipate, to leave you on the brink of something you could barely name.
"You're trembling" Abbot observed, and you felt his smile, now with a note of triumph. "Trembling because of me, dear?"
And it was true. Your entire body vibrated, an uncontrollable current that ran through every centimeter of your skin, every nerve ending. Your legs parted slightly, an involuntary movement, a silent offer he could not fail to notice. His experienced eyes rose to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was one of pure devotion.
"You are magnificent, dear" Dr. Abbot said, and there was no doubt in his voice. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
His fingers continued to rise, tracing a line that drew closer and closer to the center of your desire. You held your breath as every muscle in your body tensed in anticipation, but of course he stopped just a centimeter away, his fingers hovering over the lace of your panties, only to bring you back from the precipice after all, Abbot was a man of almost all principles.
"No..." the doctor's word was a hoarse whisper that almost made you sob with frustration. "Not here. Not like this." He pulled back slightly, his lips abandoning your skin, and the cold office air kissed the spots his kisses had warmed. "I want to touch you, yes, but let it be in an appropriate setting." His robust body stood up, positioning between your legs, and a large palm found your waist, a sly little smile forming at the corner of his lips. "As exciting as it is to eat out a pretty girl in my office."
You opened your mouth, shocked, flushed, and simply very aroused; your eyes met his, and a hint of relief invaded you amid all that wave of lust, because you saw that he wasn't playing with you. There was genuine respect there, a line he refused to cross, even when everything in his body cried out for more.
"But I want to" you said, your voice coming out firmer than you expected. "I want you."
He smiled, a smile that lit up his face and made your heart race even more. "I know" Abbot replied with a confidence that was both irritating and exciting. "But I want and like to do things the right way..."
He leaned over you, his lips touching your forehead in a kiss so soft and tender it contrasted with everything that had happened before. Abbot then finally pulled away, making you miss the warmth of his body. You remained there leaning against the table, your skirt still bunched up, your panties still displaced, your skin still vibrating with the echo of his touches. Your body was on fire, your heart pounding erratically, and you knew you couldn't leave that room without a promise.
"Dr. Abbot" you called, and he turned, an eyebrow raised.
"Jack" he corrected, finally introducing himself. The simplicity of the correction made your stomach contract.
"Jack" you repeated, feeling the name on your lips like a caress. "I will look for you. I have no doubt."
The smile that formed on Jack's lips was one of pure satisfaction, and he tilted his head in a gesture of acknowledgment. "I know, dear."
And then, with the same calm that characterized him, Abbot picked up the tablet and began typing the prescription, as if nothing had happened. But you knew everything had changed.
You left the office with shaky legs, the personal phone number written on the back of the prescription, and the certainty that Jack Abbot, with his brownish-green eyes and malicious smile, had just changed your life forever.
No one likes getting a pap smear. It was a universally hated experience, and you would have to agree that the test itself was unpleasant. But you guessed you were probably one of the only women in the world who didn’t dread going in for your yearly screening.
Actually, you looked forward to it. Maybe you shouldn’t, but how could you not when your doctor was Jack Abbot?
Dr. Abbot liked to embrace more… unusual techniques.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite patient,” Dr. Abbot shut and locked the door behind him. You smiled up at him from where you sat on the bed, completely naked and waiting for him.
“Hi Dr. Abbot,” your shoulders rolled back, making sure he got a good eyeful of your tits.
“And you’re ready for me,” he stepped between your spread legs. He set his clipboard to the side and brought his hands up to cradle your breasts. “What a good girl.”
You preened under his praise, biting your lip as he began to squeeze the flesh in his hands.
“Have you been giving yourself exams?” His eyes were locked on your breasts. Beneath his excessive fondling there was some level of actual medical procedures, but the official examination of your tits was over quickly.
“N-no,” you bit back a moan as he pinched your nipples. He shook his head, tutting at you.
“You know better,” he tugged on them as a punishment, making you squeak and lean forward into him to alleviate the little bit of pain.
“I’m sorry Dr. Abbot.”
He continued to squeeze and caress your chest, humming to himself as he did so and ignoring the tiny moans and whimpers you fought to bite back.
When had satisfied himself, he let go.
“Alright, no lumps,” he stepped away, pulling the stirrups out from under the bed. “But you’ve got to give yourself examinations.”
“But I can’t check as well as you can,” you obeyed the silent order to slide down until your feet were firmly settled into the foothold. You were completely bare, letting him see every inch of you with your legs spread wide and held up and out of the way.
“Ok,” Dr. Abbot chuckled as he grabbed the rolling stool and settled between your legs. “We’ll set you up for monthly check ups with me before you leave. That way I don’t have to worry about my best girl.”
“Thank you Dr. Abbot,” you were practically shaking with anticipation as you heard the snap of his blue rubber gloves.
“Let’s get started on the rest of the exam. Just gotta check your vaginal health and then we’ll get to the unpleasant part, ok?”
“Ok,” you squeaked out.
His thick fingers spread your lips wide so that his warm breath could brush over every inch of you. Dr. Abbot cooed at how your little hole clenched around nothing.
“Are you sexually active?”
“N-no.”
How could you be when you had your beloved Doctor to take care of your needs?
“Good girl,” two of his fingers sank into your drooling cunt. They filled you up so much more than your own ever could. “Boys are so dirty. Only your doctor should ever put anything in here, got it?”
“Yes Doctor!”
You moaned when his tongue licked over your clit. His fingers spread and scissored within you, stretching your walls wide and reaching far deeper than you ever could. His breast exam had worked you up enough that you were trembling almost immediately.
His lips closed over your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth and laving his tongue over it.
“Dr-Dr. Abbot!”
The hand that wasn’t buried two fingers deep in you came around to press down on your lower stomach to keep you still. You couldn’t help but twitch and writhe in his hold, though, as the pleasure grew. A third finger slid in alongside the first two to stretch your little hold wider than he had before.
“T-too much!” You tried to protest, but Dr. Abbot didn’t let up.
“I’m testing your elasticity,” he mumbled between circling the tip of his tongue around your clit. “Don’t you care about your health?”
All you could do was try and stay still on the table as he pushed you right to the edge and over it. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth dropped open in a long, drawn out moan. Your hips twitched and jerked against his face as he worked you through the orgasm that rolled through your body.
He didn’t stop until you were crying and struggling to get away from the overstimulation.
“Very good,” he backed away, unbuckling his belt as he did so. “Now let’s test your pelvic floor. I want to see just how hard you can squeeze my cock.”
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.
i wrote this with barista reader in mind from an upcoming fic i haven’t finished yet. but anyways smut incoming.
dr. abbot doesn’t care about his money. he lives comfortably, doesn’t deny himself the basics and maybe a bit more, but he isn’t the type to flaunt it.
he rarely mentions it, actually. he doesn’t make you feel bad for spending his money, doesn’t care what you buy, even wishes you would spend more.
he doesn’t own a boat, a second house, sports cars, like some other attendings. he’d much rather eat a burrito from the truck around the corner instead of at the neighborhood’s newest restaurant. it just doesn’t interest him so much. he owns his apartment, a sensible vehicle, and that’s enough for him.
but all of this becomes irrelevant when he’s got two fingers in your hole and his mouth on your clit in the backseat of aforementioned sensible vehicle.
“jack, stop,” you plead, fingers curling around his wrist with as much strength as possible and trying to push his hand away.
“stop, i’m gonna ruin the seats!”
he lifts his head from between your thighs, heaving a little and staring holes through your head.
“shut your mouth. i’ll buy new seats, i’ll buy a new fucking car if i have to.”
jack never talks like that. something about the ease with which he says it has you squirting all over his hand, and the nice leather of his backseat.
you’re spasming and huffing out little breaths of air, squirming around as he keeps shoving his fingers in and out. you cum again, right on the tail end of your first orgasm is the second.
you squirt even more, coating his seats in a thin sheen. you’re absolutely mortified. you sit up, forcing his fingers out of you.
“oh my god. i am so sorry. i’ve never done that—i’ll pay for the detailing—i’m so sorry.”
you clasp your hands over your mouth to cover the stupid way it’s gaping open at the mess you’ve made.
“i can venmo you right now, it’s really not a problem.”
you don’t let on that it actually is a problem, that your paycheck hasn’t quite hit yet. but you’ll figure that part out later.
jack is just staring at you, staring at you like he’s going to bite you or something. he crawls back up your body, covering you with himself.
“don’t be ridiculous.”
he’s kissing you again, first slowly and intentionally, like he’s trying to tell you everything is okay, i wanted that to happen.
then it turns into another heated makeout session, where you can’t help but whine into his mouth. it ends with him buried deep inside you while you sit on his lap, ruining the seats beyond repair.
no problem, you can help him pick out the next one.
— robby’s tummy appreciation courtesy of my angel @wildflowerluver and i ❤︎
husband!robby who waits for you to get home from work with a hot cup of tea already calling your name — who wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a greeting kiss and a hand that lingers downward. “mmm, hi, baby,” he’ll murmur with a tired gruffness. you’d hum in turn and rub a hand over his tummy, splaying your fingers over the skin while it drifts further up his shirt. “you need to rest, mikey. why’re you still up, huh?” robby who pulls you in closer, pressing a starting kiss to your temple then trails several down your cheeks, finally landing on your lips once more. “can’t sleep without you, honey, you know that,” he returns. he uses his free hand to sneak the tea into your hand with a smile he knows you can’t resist. “now, c’mon, baby. let daddy take care of you.” and suddenly, the slight hitch of robby’s breath as you continue to caress his tummy, and the one word he knows you can’t get enough of, makes you fold instantaneously — “that’s a great idea, mikey.”
gummygunk
amandla
gracieabrams
prguitarman
areudirty
