Warning! This is between fully consenting adults! This includes Fauxcest, no one is actually related.
Sitting on Dads lap with tears in my eyes, have I really been good? The best little girl in the world, he says softly as he kisses my cheek. He knows his girl needs all the reassurance in the world sometimes. I sniffle, I've been too ann- I let out a squeak when he suddenly pushes another finger into my cunt. He's spent all his afternoon making sure this mood I was in was handled. His last resort was sitting me on his lap and playing with my cunt. I don't like hearing that from your mouth, darling.
I'm sorry, dad... I whimper as hot tears stream down my cheeks. His fingers moving in and out of me, gripped by my tight hole. It's okay, princess... You aren't being annoying. You just need a responsible person by your side, my precious big girl needs someone bigger than her. He coos and brings a hand under my shirt, grabbing my breast with a tight squeeze. Needs someone to make her a little girl...that's why you have me...dad, to make you feel better. I quickly try to wipe away tears as I nod, suddenly gasping and trying to grab onto him as he curls his fingers.
Always so well behaved, always so pretty, always so dependent of me. Just how I like it, he leaves many kisses on my cheeks I start to pant. I'm your good girl, exactly... He mumbles against my skin, I love you so much. I moans softly as I feel myself get close, I love my girl too, all my baby needs is reassurance and some love. You are never too annoying, too much, or do too little. You are more than enough, so precious to me. Cum for me...cum for your dad like a good girl.
The door hadn't finished swinging shut before Simon had me pressed against the wall, his body a wall of heat at my back, one large hand splayed flat across my stomach. My ears—long, velvety, traitorous things—flattened against my skull and then sprang back up, twitching.
"You're trembling already." His voice scraped against the shell of my ear, low and rough. "I haven't even done anything yet."
A sound escaped me. Not a word. Something softer. A whimper I couldn't swallow down.
His palm slid lower, fingers spreading across the plane of my belly, pressing just enough that I felt the size difference in my bones. He was everywhere. Broad shoulders blocking the lamplight, hips pinning me to the plaster, one thigh nudging between mine.
"Turn around."
I did. My breath caught when I saw his face—the slow, crooked smile, the way his eyes tracked down my body and back up again, deliberate, like he was reading a page he'd already memorized.
"There she is," he murmured. His thumb found the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up. "My good bunny."
The words hit somewhere deep. I felt the clench, involuntary and tight, before I could stop it. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
Simon noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Oh." He drew the syllable out, delighted. "You like that."
It wasn't a question.
His hand left my jaw and found my hip instead, steering me backward toward the bed. My legs hit the mattress edge and I sat down hard, and then he was there, lowering himself over me, caging me in with forearms on either side of my ribs. The weight of him settled against my thighs like a promise.
"Tell me what you want."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. My mind was already going soft at the edges, cottony, the way it always did when he looked at me like that.
"Nothing?" He clicked his tongue. "That's too bad."
His knee nudged my thighs apart and I let them fall open, my chest rising and falling in shallow sips of air. The bunny in me—the part that wasn't quite human, never would be—made my instincts warble sideways. I wanted to freeze. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay pinned exactly where I was, under his weight, under his gaze.
Simon's hand slid between us. His knuckles brushed the inside of my thigh, light and slow, and then his fingers found my slit through the lace of my underwear.
I made that sound again.
"Soaked," he said, conversational, like he was commenting on the weather. He pressed just barely, a whisper of friction. "Is this all for me?"
"Yes." The word cracked.
"Yes what?"
My breath stuttered. He wasn't moving his hand, wasn't giving me enough pressure to do anything but ache. The heat of his fingers sat there, idle, waiting.
"Simon—"
"That's not what I asked."
I swallowed. The room felt too warm. My hips gave a tiny, desperate roll against his hand, seeking, and he pulled back an inch.
"Uh-uh." His smile sharpened. "You don't get to take. Not yet."
A keening noise climbed up my throat. My ears drooped forward, brushing my cheeks. He watched them, watched me, entirely in control.
"I want you," I managed. "I want—"
"Look at you. Can't even say it." He tilted his head. The lamplight caught the scruff along his jaw. "You're so small under me. Feel that? Feel how much bigger I am?"
As if to prove it, he shifted his weight. My body bowed into the mattress, the springs creaking. His hips aligned with mine and I felt him—thick and rigid, still trapped in his jeans—pressing against the juncture of my thigh.
Oh gods.
"Made for this," he said, voice dropping lower. "Every inch of you. Made to take me."
My hands clawed at his shoulders. Useless. I couldn't push him away if I wanted to, and I didn't want to. That was the worst of it. Every nerve in my body was chanting yes, yes, yes.
"Please." I barely recognized my own voice.
"Please what?"
He pulled my underwear aside. The air hit my wetness and I flinched, oversensitive before he'd even begun. One finger traced along my folds, so light it tickled, and then he circled my entrance without pushing in.
"Please," I tried again, and this time the word broke into something more honest. A sob. "Please, Simon, I need—"
He sank two fingers inside me.
My back arched. A cry tore loose—high and startled—and he didn't wait for me to adjust. He curled them, finding that spot on the first stroke, and my vision went prismatic at the edges.
"There you go," he crooned. "That's my good bunny. Taking my fingers so well."
The praise landed like a shock. I clamped down around him, tight as a fist, and he laughed under his breath.
"Every time." He pumped slowly, watching my face. "Every time I say it, you squeeze. You're more rabbit than girl right now, aren't you? Your body knows what it wants even if you can't say it."
I couldn't argue. Couldn't form words at all anymore. His thumb found my clit and I bucked, the dual sensation spiking through me too fast, too much.
"Still not enough," he said, and I realized with a dawning sort of terror what he meant.
His jeans were open. I hadn't noticed him unzip them, but suddenly he was there—the broad, flushed head of his cock nudging against my entrance, replacing his fingers. The heat of him made my mouth water.
"Eyes on me."
I dragged my gaze up. His expression had changed. Still hungry, but now something else flickered behind it. Something almost reverent.
"I'm going to fill you up," he said, notching himself an inch deeper, just the tip stretching me open. "I'm going to put my pups in you. You want that?"
The noise I made wasn't human. Pure animal whine, thin and high.
"Answer me."
"Yes." It scraped out of me. "Yes, I want it, please—"
He pushed in.
Not all the way. He couldn't. That was the problem, the delicious, torturous problem—the knot at the base of him, thicker than the rest, wouldn't fit. Not yet. He gave me half his length and I was already full past reason, already gasping, my fingers scrabbling at his back.
"Too much?" He stilled.
"No. No, don't stop—"
"Mm." He pulled back and thrust in again, shallow, watching my face screw up with the stretch. "But the knot won't fit, bunny. You feel that? You feel how much more there is?"
I could. Gods, I could. It pressed against my entrance like a threat, swollen and unyielding. Every time he rocked forward, it kissed my folds and stopped there, a promise he wasn't ready to keep.
"Say please." His thrusts slowed to something agonizing. "Say it like you mean it."
"Please." It came out a whisper.
"What was that?"
"Please." Louder now, cracking. "Please, Simon, I can take it, I swear—"
"Can you?" He palmed my slit where I was stretched around him, his fingers finding my clit and pressing. "You're trembling. You can barely handle half of me."
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. The overstimulation was already coiling at the base of my spine, tight and too-hot. He hadn't knotted me yet and I was already on the edge of something catastrophic.
"Good bunny." He leaned down, mouth brushing my ear, and I sobbed. "You want my knot that badly?"
"Please please please—"
He pushed.
The knot caught. Stretched. Didn't pop.
My scream got swallowed by his mouth on mine, his tongue sweeping in, and he pulled back and thrust again, the knot catching harder this time. The pressure was blinding. Pleasure and pain tangled together until I couldn't tell them apart, couldn't do anything but lie there and take it as he worked himself into me with short, grinding strokes.
"One more," he grunted, and his composure cracked, finally cracked, his forehead dropping to mine. "One more and it's in. Ready?"
I nodded, incoherent.
He shoved forward.
The knot locked inside me.
I came apart. No warning, no build—just detonation. Every muscle drew tight and then snapped, milking around him, around the impossible thickness that sealed us together. I heard myself wail and couldn't stop it, couldn't modulate the sound, couldn't do anything but thrash under him as he groaned into my neck.
"There it is," he panted. "There it is, good bunny, take it—"
He didn't stop moving.
I realized that too late. The knot was seated and he was still rocking into me, tiny pulses of his hips, and the friction on my tender walls was—
"Simon—"
"Shh." He kissed my temple. Drew back an inch. Thrust in again. "I'm not done filling you yet. You're going to take every last drop."
Bf!Michael Robinavitch x female!reader x Dennis Whitaker
✧ summary: Unaware that you and Robby are in a relationship, Dennis asks you out, embarrassing himself in front of the entire ED. To make up for it, Robby comes up with a plan how Dennis can at least get a glimpse of what it’s like to be with you.
✧ content: 18+ mdni, smut: cucking but Dennis is quite involved I’d say, p in v, oral (only m receiving for some reason, who wrote this??), fingering, Robby is a tiny bit mean to Dennis but he likes it, Robby is lowkey only there for a few comments and to fuck you, focus is more on Dennis, S2 Dennis looks but S1 level of sad pathetic puppyness, m masturbation, handjob, reader listens to Dennis peeing and then jerking off in her bathroom lmao, cum eating (also Dennis's own cum), age gap (unspecified but I imagined reader and Dennis in their 20s, Robby 50s), unequal power dynamics (Robby is obv their attending, reader is a resident, Dennis is a student Dr), pet names (good girl, good boy, angel, baby, sweetheart, Robby calls Dennis kid), Robby is taller than reader, Dennis is v submissive and pathetic, reader is kind of submissive for Robby but more dominant for Dennis
✧ word count: 9.1k… sorry I’m a yapper
✧ notes: my first the Pitt fic and first fic in a while so you're mandated to be nice to me actually!! Robby is lowkey just an accessory rn because I had a hard time with him (who doesn't though), btw the title is not related to the song, that's not the same vibe
gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia !!
Dennis Whitaker might be the sweetest colleague you’ve ever had. And you can say that despite being in a loving relationship with your attending. Robby is a good boyfriend, but sweet isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when you’re asked to describe him.
As a resident you’ve taken Dennis under your wing and watched him blossom under your care. You’re the same age — you started early, he started a bit late — but it’s hard to not feel maternal towards him with his puppy eyes and the pathetic look he wears on his face most of the time.
As infatuated as you are with Robby, you’re not an idiot. It’s obvious Dennis has a crush on you.
At first you thought he just had a thing for praise, because he’d practically begin to purr whenever you told him ‘good job’ or ‘well done’, something that didn’t happen much at the start, but he’s been getting better with each shift. But you’ve found that it’s specifically your praise he likes, always going above and beyond to show his knowledge and skill when he’s with you, while he’s a bit more mellow with other residents.
You always knew it was a matter of when, not if, he would ask you out.
You and Robby have always had an agreement to not be affectionate at work. He had a hard enough time as it was when you started to show an interest in him when you were still a student doctor. He’d practically drooled all over you when you came in years ago and he had to listen to weeks of ridicule from Dana that he was fawning over the fresh meat, young enough to be his daughter.
It wasn’t until he realised that your eyes lingered on him too, that you found him whenever you wanted to share a patient’s funny story and looked to him for advice beyond his professional abilities that he realised he wasn’t fucked up for liking someone so much younger than himself – it was reciprocated. Or at least you were fucked up too for liking someone twice your age, and that made you compatible.
It’s bad enough that he’s dating his resident, he doesn’t need people staring at work if you were to be all touchy. Besides, it makes for a fun draining of all the built-up sexual tension whenever you get home after a shift.
The only bad thing about you two being relatively private about your relationship is that newbies don’t know you’re off limits. It’s happened all too often that colleagues have asked you out, mostly temporary interns or substitutes, but it never ceases to be awkward when you have to let them down gently only for Robby to put a rare possessive arm around your waist the next time you see the poor soul who tried to flirt with the chief of the ED’s girlfriend.
Sometimes you wonder how not everyone knows about you two, considering how often you hear people gossiping about you and Robby; it’s never malicious but you see the curious looks whenever you and Robby interact for even two sentences.
You’ve tried to be professional with Dennis, only ever called him Whitaker to his face to preserve some professional, or at least platonic, distance, and made sure to mention Michael, or even Mike when you wanted to lay it on thick, as much as you could.
There have been many instances where you could’ve cleared things up, thrown in a feigned accidental ‘my boyf— I mean Dr Robby’, or mentioned your shared apartment, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy the attention, that you didn’t enjoy it at least a little bit how your failed suitors squirmed around you and Robby after they found out what they’d done.
You can feel it coming all day, like a storm brewing – how Dennis is even more awkward than usual, always trying to prolong the conversation with you, blushing no matter what you say.
It’s almost the end of the shift when you think you’re out of the woods. Of course it’s then that Dennis finds you.
The normally busy nursing station houses no one but you and you feel him creeping up on you, building up courage. It’s not the actual asking out that you’re dreading, it’s always a compliment, it’s just the rejection and consequent inevitable embarrassment from Dennis.
For now he settles on: “Hey.”
Maybe your instincts were wrong. Maybe he’s just asking how you are.
“Hi. Day’s almost over. A few more patients and we’ve made it—”
He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, more out of anxiety than disrespect: “Would you go out with me sometime? I don’t know, maybe tonight? There’s a nice Thai restaurant down the street, you mentioned you like Thai food. I’m not sure what the policy on dating is but—”
He rambles on and it’s endearing. If you weren’t happily taken you’d have said yes in a heartbeat. For the tiniest glimpse of a second you almost regret that you’re not single. Just almost.
A deep, raspy voice cuts through Dennis’s words from behind you. The arm that sneaks around your waist tells you what’s about to happen.
“You’re not thinkin’ of asking my girl out, Whitaker, are you?”
Dennis’s reaction surprises you. He laughs. It’s just a giggle, one that eases the tension in his chest. You can read his thoughts straight off his face.
Surely, Robby’s joking. It’s just a fatherly gesture, a what-are-your-intentions-with-my-daughter joke. A fake stern have-her-home-by-ten. But Dennis’s smile turns into something more of a grimace when you put your hand on Robby’s chest and softly whisper up at him, “don’t be mean, baby.”
Dennis gasps, then he lets out a quiet, undefinable sound. He points at Robby, looks at you, and seems like he’s about to faint. Instead, he leaves the scene wordlessly, stumbling almost.
“That was rough,” says Dana, appeared out of thin air next to you.
“Aw, I hope he’s not too embarrassed,” you hear Victoria from behind you, and before you can wonder who else just witnessed Dennis’s sweet but misguided effort you see Kiara and McKay fleeing the scene, pretending they saw nothing for his sake.
Langdon and Mateo are quietly chuckling in a corner not far away.
Trinity is already following Dennis, a delighted grin on her face.
You don’t see Dennis for the rest of the shift.
*
A week later you still feel bad for Dennis. He avoids you as much as he can for a student doctor you’re responsible for. There are a million things you could say to him, but you can’t decide what. Watching him squirm and blush whenever you’re around is certainly fun too.
Even Louie and Myrna have both picked up on the tension, with Myrna trying to be Dennis’s rebound, and Louie laughing so hard he almost went into cardiac arrest when he heard what Dennis did.
But at some point you’ll have to talk to Dennis, say something to make him feel better and ease the tension between you. You miss him as a friend.
That’s your plan until Robby brings up an interesting proposal… during sex.
You’re lying on your belly, almost delirious with tiredness from a long shift, but not too tired to have the stress fucked out of your system by your boyfriend. Robby’s on top of you, body weight smashed deliciously against yours, just almost painfully, his hips pushing against your ass.
The fact that you’re not on top especially after today’s shift is bordering on elder abuse anyway, so you’re just happy he’s doing the work. Robby is fucking into your pussy, its loud squelch filling the room. You both needed this.
He stops for a second, “I mean, would you want to fuck Whitaker?”
You take a second to recover from the whiplash his sudden question gives you, shaking your head. Why is your boyfriend talking, or even thinking, about Whitaker right now?
“What? Dennis?”
Robby begins to move again, a few slow, teasing thrusts. “I wouldn’t be mad, baby. Just curious.”
“Curious about what?” You look at him over your shoulder and turn around completely, accommodating Robby between your thighs, “You wanna know if your girlfriend wants to fuck another man? Like, if I didn’t know you?”
You reach up for Robby’s shoulders to pull him closer and he takes the hint, pushing the head of his cock back into your pussy, and you both adjust for a moment as he fills you up.
“Yeah, I guess.”
You think about it, and involuntarily you smile. Dennis is attractive, though in a completely different way from your boyfriend. His kicked puppy look does something for you, and he’s been bulking up a little, been letting the back of his hair grow just a bit longer thanks to Trinity’s insistent badgering that he’d look better like that.
You don’t seem to need words for Robby to know what you want to say.
“I know Whitaker would love to fuck this pussy, this tight, wet pussy, fuck. Bet he wouldn’t last a minute. Feels so good, sweetheart.”
You can’t help but imagine Dennis between your thighs, face screwed up in pleasure as he pushes his pink, throbbing cock inside you, blowing his load immediately, accompanied by a whimper.
Your pussy clenches around Robby as you cum, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. He follows you over the edge, pulling out to cum on your belly as your hand reaches up to jerk him off.
“Fuck, baby, milking me dry, theeere you go” he huffs, hips pulling forwards with the motion of your hand as white, silky ropes of cum paint your body. You lean up to kiss his cum-smeared tip once you’re done, and Robby rewards you by leaning down to kiss your forehead, your temples, cheeks, and then your lips.
He cleans you off with wet wipes from next to the bed, kissing every part of your body while he's at it..
“Such a good girl for me, always.”
You beam up at him and pull him into your arms. A few minutes later you remember what made you cum so blissfully in the first place, and it’s like in that moment Robby does too. His hand grazes past your spine, down to your ass, giving a firm squeeze.
“I take that as a yes?”
**
You: Hi, if you’re not too tired do you wanna come to mine to watch a movie after work? :)
It’s a few days later and you and Robby have extensively discussed what inviting Dennis into your bed would entail. You imagine it’ll take at least an hour or two to get a reply from Dennis, if he even has the time to look at his phone before his shift ends at all.
He replies before you even lock your phone.
Dennis: Yes!!!
You expected more questions — whether Robby would be there for example — but you’re flattered he’d say yes with so little information. You send him the address and a can’t wait!
You see Dennis before he sees you. You hear a sound at your front door when you walk past it and you tiptoe your way towards the spy hole to see if it’s him.
It is him, a lopsided smile on his face that falls when his hand hovers over the doorbell. He must be reading the Robinavitch where he was expecting your name. You stay over at Robby’s apartment more often than not, and you’ve discussed moving together already, and are just waiting for a better time to do so.
Dennis adjusts his simple white shirt at the hem, and takes a breath so deep you can hear it through the wooden door, then he rings the doorbell. You wait an appropriate few seconds to open it.
He looks even cuter without the fisheye lens distorting him, a tired blush dusting his cheeks and the tip of his nose, light sheen of sweat across his neck from the sticky heat outside.
“Hi, sorry I’m late,” he mumbles, and you check the time. 9:33 PM. He’s here three minutes later than you told him to be, and 9:30 was more a suggestion, not a deadline you expected him to meet with the kind of job you do.
“Don’t worry, you’re not. Come in, glad you could make it. I hope you’re not too exhausted. You want a coffee or something?”
You watch Dennis take in Robby’s apartment as he takes his shoes off; the basics are Robby’s, the decorations, loose items and anything that makes the four walls into an actual home are yours. It also occurs to you that he’s scoping out whether Robby’s home or not, but he looks away when he notices you watching him.
“Actually if you’re offering I wouldn’t say no to that.”
You call out into the apartment, “Babe, can you make us a coffee?”
Better to squash his hopes early. Though you don’t hate the idea of being alone with Dennis, far from it, actually.
You turn back around to a wide-eyed Dennis who quickly tries to get his face back in order. You wish he knew how endearing it is that his every emotion primarily takes place on his face. It means you always know where you stand with him, which, in your case, is always on his good side. You’re not sure anyone’s on his bad one though; he’s too sweet for that.
Dennis trails behind you like an excited puppy as you show him the living room, patting the sofa for him to sit. Your shorts ride up as you sit down, and his eyes are attracted to your thighs immediately.
You’re wearing a cute pyjama set, one that could double as lazy lingerie, nothing sexy but not exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep in. Robby side-eyed you when you slipped into the outfit, mumbling that tonight is only meant for talking, but you thought Dennis still deserved a little treat after such a rough day of work.
He hasn’t said anything about today’s shift yet, but Dana has told you multiple times how Dennis will mope about the entire day whenever you’re not working.
Your socked foot grazes Dennis’s jeans by his knee, and feeling the rough fabric suddenly makes you feel underdressed.
“You want me to put on something over this?” you say without really meaning to. But you are technically his superior at work and don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
His eyes widen at the mere suggestion: “Please don’t— you look really pretty, I mean your clothes are really pretty.”
“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Robby’s voice bursts through yet another embarrassing moment as he delivers two coffees, one in a strawberry-shaped cup, the other one a colourful souvenir from your and Robby’s first shared trip.
You wonder how this must all feel for Dennis – going from not knowing you and Robby are even a thing, to his attending bringing him a late night coffee in a silly cup in his home, and his resident sitting on the sofa next to him showing twice as much skin as your scrubs allow.
From the look in his eyes you gather that he’s excited. He’s just happy to be included, relieved that his failed attempt to ask you out has somehow brought him further than he expected. He never thought you’d say yes anyway, but couldn’t go any longer without at least trying.
To avoid Robby’s question, Dennis takes a large gulp of the fresh, probably scorching coffee, but he toughs it out, emptying half of the strawberry cup.
“Hey, Doctor Robby,” Dennis finally squeaks out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Just Robby is fine, you know that.”
You and Robby share a brief look. If Dennis can’t even talk to Robby without calling him by his title, you doubt he’ll want to join you two in your bedroom anytime soon, but you stick with your plan.
“How was work today?”
Dennis then launches into a monologue of his top and bottom three patients of the day, breaking several HIPAA laws and confessing to multiple errors and faking a diagnosis with Langdon to get rid of an annoying patient who had nothing wrong with him, but for tonight you’re not trying to be his resident and attending, you’re just his friends.
Before you can suggest he’s had enough coffee for the night, he drinks the second half in one big sip, sighing afterwards.
“That was good, I needed that. Thanks. I feel like I smell like coffee now, do you have a mouth wash I can use?”
You giggle at his self-consciousness, “Sure, bathroom’s over there. Just use whatever you need.”
As soon as the bathroom door is locked, Robby gives you a look of feigned annoyance, “You didn’t tell him I was gonna be here.”
You avert your gaze and shrug, “He didn’t ask… and I don’t know if he would’ve come otherwise. He’s fine. He’s a big boy, he can handle it. It’s time he stops being awkward around you. And time you apologise…”
Before Robby can protest against your demand, Dennis comes out, shuffling back to his place next to you on the couch. Pride radiates off him as he walks past Robby who sits on a separate chair.
“So, are you up for a movie?” you ask, getting up to find the remote control. You throw it towards Robby who opens a streaming service, lazily flicking through the options. You’re still standing behind the sofa, leaning against the back of it as Dennis peers up at you, thrilled from being under you like this.
“You must be so stiff, hm? My neck always kills me after a long day of work,” you step behind him, running your hands over his shoulders as he shudders, “can I?”
He nods frantically as your thumbs come up to massage his tense neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
Robby pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, smirking over at you two as Dennis’s eyes fall shut. Your boyfriend shoots you a wink and your fingers press deeper into Dennis’s skin. He gives a few quiet sighs of pleasure, volume increasing as you find a tense spot between his shoulder blades.
“That feel good?” you whisper, smile audible in your voice.
“Mhmm..” he sighs, and you push harder, “Oh yeah that’s good. Yeah, yeah, right there.”
Well, you certainly don’t have to wonder what he sounds like during sex anymore.
You stifle a giggle when his head tips back and Dennis looks up at you to confirm whether he really just made those sounds out loud.
“Shh, relax.”
He does as he’s told and closes his eyes again, letting you work out a few kinks in his neck for a few more moments before Robby begins to list a few films, asking for your opinion.
Dennis has trouble focussing on your hands on his body and Robby’s suggestions at the same time, and you love hearing him grumbling whenever Robby lists another title, pulling him from his reverie of having you massage him.
“Let’s watch that one, then,” you decide when Robby tells you he watched this movie when he was younger, “but before we start, we also wanted to talk to you about something. But first Robby wanted to apologise.”
This makes Dennis sit up a bit straighter. Somehow misunderstanding you, he blurts out: “Sorry I asked out your girlfriend.”
“No,” Robby chuckles, “that’s not what she meant. Don’t apologise for that. I wanted to apologise for… what am I apologising for again, baby?”
You roll your eyes. “For being rude to him in front of everyone when he was gonna ask me out.”
Robby waves his hand, “oh yeah, that. Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I just didn’t know that you two were, like, a thing.”
Robby leans back as he manspreads, “Can’t blame you for shooting your shot. And she did tell me she woulda said yes if I wasn’t in the picture.”
Dennis swings his head around to look at you, “really?”
“Mhmm. You’re a handsome guy… kind, funny, smart… gonna be a good doctor one day.”
You can tell it takes everything in Dennis not to cream his pants at your last words. His eyes sparkle as if he’s just won a nobel prize.
“And we have an idea how to make it up to you,” you continue, “It’s okay if you’re not into it but no harm in asking.”
“O-kay…” Dennis’s eyes switch between yours and Robby’s.
You’re not sure how to phrase your suggestion cutely, so you look at Robby for help.
“Since you like my girl so much, I’ll let you watch me fuck her.”
“If you’re into that,” you add quickly, “We’ve never done it before, but we would with you, if you would like that too.”
Dennis nods so fast you’re worried all the loosening you did to his neck just then is undone again.
“Yeah?” Robby asks him, “You ever done anything like that?”
“No, no, never. But I’d like to.”
His voice is shaky, and you’re already excited to hear how much worse it gets when he’s nearing an orgasm. You lean over the back of the sofa to grab his face, kissing his cheek. He grabs a small pillow to put on his lap, not at all subtly.
“Not tonight though,” you clarify, “you must be all delirious after such a long shift.”
“Tonight is okay, or whenever, just whenever you want to.”
Robby chuckles as you finally round the sofa to join Dennis again, “Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s his shift that made him delirious. Look how excited you’ve gotten him.”
Dennis is now gripping the pillow for dear life, and you turn towards him.
“Robby can be a bit mean but just tell him to stop when it gets too much and he will.”
Dennis smiles sweetly, eyes all big and round, “I can handle it. Not like I’m not used to it from work.”
You look between the two men. “I’m worried you’ll get whiplash from seeing Robby happy for once when we do it… You wanna watch a film now?” you ask, your voice dripping with innocence, as if Dennis could focus on a movie right now.
“Gotta get a better angle,” Robby says as he joins you on the couch so he’s able to look straight at the tv. You scoot closer to Dennis to make room for your boyfriend, and the heat from both their bodies threatens to give you a fever, but one you’d happily welcome.
You’re wedged between them for the entirety of the film during which no one talks but only because no one’s paying attention. Dennis is sitting as perfectly still as he can. Robby is all fidgety and touchy, marking his territory, you guess, a big hand on your knee, travelling further up your thigh, later around your waist and back to your lap again.
In turn, you’re all touchy with Dennis.
First, you rest your head on his shoulder, your outer thigh pressed against his. Then, your fingers wrap around his bicep, squeezing gently. You’ve noticed him working on it, as he’s been slowly filling out the size Small scrubs more. And his arms feel as good as they look.
You’ve spoken about limits and boundaries with Robby and this is well within what he’s comfortable with. You were surprised how far he’d let you go with Dennis, something that made for some fun thoughts during the previous few nights alone in bed but, for now, you’ll just have Dennis watch when the time comes.
Both men all but gasp when you abruptly untangle yourself from them to get up to go pee. You enjoy the thick, sexual tension in the air that you have to wade through when you get back. Robby presses play, and you remember what film you’re even watching. If whatever you’re doing can be called watching.
No longer than ten seconds in, Robby’s big, warm hand circles around your knee before travelling upwards, settling on your inner thigh over your lacy shorts, giving your flesh a squeeze.
You lean your elbow on the back of the sofa. Slowly, your fingers make their way up Dennis’s shoulder, up his neck and into his hair. Your fingers tangle there, massaging the base of his skull, curling some of those longer strands of hair around your fingertip.
“‘S that feel good?” you whisper after a while.
Dennis’ eyes are closed and he smiles, “mhmm”.
Robby’s teasing you, you’re teasing Dennis. To make a perfect triangle you’d need Dennis teasing your boyfriend, but you daren’t dream of that happening. You don’t think either of them has got that in him.
As soon as the credits roll, listing a cast of characters you can’t remember, Dennis gets up “to pee”, his trusty pillow falling to the floor.
You’re not normally like this, but something comes over you as you tiptoe towards the bathroom door after Dennis disappears behind it. Robby shakes his head at what you’re doing, smiling as he clears off the coffee table.
You lean against the bathroom door ever so quietly, pressing your ear to it. And first you really do hear him pee, but it’s sporadic and strained. You’ve heard from Robby how difficult it is to pee with an erection, so you gather that’s what’s going on.
Dennis is done peeing at some point, muttering a small ‘fuck’, then, ‘oh my god’. You hear him spit, then more muffled groans. A wet squelching sound. You get to your knees, attempting to peer through the empty keyhole, but you don’t see enough.
Robby walks past you right then, and you press a finger to your lips, urging him to stay quiet. He walks back to the kitchen but you know you won’t hear the end of this for the rest of the week. Lucky for you, Robby’s teasing turns you on.
After no more than a minute Dennis moans, gasps, and then catches his breath. The sink is turned on and you get up, your knees clicking louder than you’d wish as you hurry back to the living room.
He looks refreshed when he comes up, somehow blushing more than before.
Robby offers to drive Dennis home; it’s late and you know Dennis took the bus here. He’s tucked in the back of the car a few minutes later, sitting in the middle seat.
“You enjoy the movie, kid?” Robby asks into the back mirror. Dennis doesn’t reply.
“Dennis?” You ask.
“Huh? Oh? The movie? I… yeah. The, the… the cinematography was good.”
Robby smiles, “what’d you think, angel?”
You’re struggling to even remember the name of the film. “I liked the acting”, you mumble.
Robby’s grinning smugly, “mhm, sure you did”.
But his smile fades when you ask, “what did you like about it, Robby?”
“The… well, yeah. The same things, really. As you two.”
***
You let Dennis squirm for a week before inviting him back to yours again.
He’s tense in the ED, eyes filled with hope every time you say his name, and it drains from his face just as quickly when you just ask him about a patient instead of asking him to come over.
This time you wait until a day during which none of you are working. It’s a miracle the day comes so soon. But you need Dennis full of energy, not drowsy after working all day.
“Hey, Dennis?”
His eyes grow comically large when he hears you use his first name instead of the usual Whitaker. If only you knew that his name on your lips alone could give him one of the most intense orgasms if he only let it happen.
“Yes,” he stands at attention in front of you.
“Any plans for your day off tomorrow?”
“I, uh, have to run some errands. Get some food and um, toilet paper.”
You giggle as you lean closer, “and in the evening?”
“Oh—yeah. No, I’m free. If that’s what you’re asking.”
“That is what I’m asking. Come to ours at eight?”
“That early?”
“P.M. Dennis.”
“Oh,” he touches his forehead, “of course. Yeah, obviously. I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
You walk past him, letting your hand graze the waistband of his trousers and his belly contracts under your touch.
****
When the evening comes, Dennis is late. Again. It’s only by one minute so far, and you know the buses have been going crazy lately, but still Robby suggests you start already. He wants that just for the knowledge alone that you started without Dennis, he’s mean like that.
Robby leans down towards your face, but just before your lips can touch the doorbell rings. You pull away but he gently takes hold of your wrist.
“Just one kiss, baby? Then it counts.”
You press a quick but sloppy kiss to his lips and he emerges from the kiss smirking. Robby leans against the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed, as you open the door for Dennis.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was meant to be here early but I kept getting hard on the bus and there was this old lady next to me and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in case she saw so I had to wait until she got off and she got off two stops from here so I walked back from—”
To shut him up, you kiss Dennis. His words die in his throat and he almost drops the bouquet of flowers he brought with him. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck to pull him in, aware of your tits pushing against his chest. When your hips get closer, it’s clear why he had such a big problem on the bus.
“Don’t worry about it, you’re here now,” you say softly into his ear.
When you pull away Dennis is smiling in a way you’ve never quite seen on him. You’ve seen him happy, excited, as of recently horny, and many times before you’ve seen him sad and pathetic, but now he looks blissful. Like your one kiss gave him a solution to all of life’s problems.
“I, uh, brought you these. They’re not great but I wanted to bring something.” He holds out a pink and red bouquet of flowers, clearly hand-picked. You take it from him, holding it close to your face to smell their scent.
“I love it. Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”
“Hey, buddy. D’you run here?” Robby asks from behind you, taking in Dennis's heaving form, and you step away to let him and Dennis hug — or however you’d describe the handshake-and-shoulder-pat-thing men do.
“I didn’t wanna be late. Could I maybe have a glass of water?”
“Of course, c’mere, we need you nice and hydrated” you slide his jacket off his shoulders, taking his hand to lead him to the kitchen. You bring the full glass to his mouth, holding it for Dennis in fear of him dropping it from how hard his hands are shaking.
“You still up for this? We can stop at any moment,” you remind him.
“Of course! I just— I think I haven’t been this excited for anything in a while. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Robby says, “But you remember you’re not gonna fuck her, right?”
“I know. I fully respect your boundaries, both of yours.”
You giggle at his serious words, “relax. It’s just us.”
Just you, you can practically read the sarcastic words in Dennis’s mind. You know his crush on you is intense, and that’s what makes this all more exciting.
“How about you calm down in here a bit and we start already? We actually already did, since you weren’t on time,” Robby says, expression earnest but you all know Dennis won’t agree to it. But Robby is excited too, as little as he’s showing it on his face. The bulge in his trousers tells you enough.
“I don’t need to calm down,” Dennis mumbles, “I’m ready.”
“Good,” you take one of their hands each and walk them to the bedroom. You put on a fresh set of bedding this morning and may or may not have sprayed some of your perfume on it.
You sit Dennis down in the chair near the bed, standing tall in front of him, looking him up and down, at his clearly freshly washed hair, his black t-shirt, relaxed jeans.
Bending towards him, you strip his shirt up over his head, “We won’t be needing this. You too, baby,” you turn around towards Robby who is already getting rid of his clothes.
“Or these…” you nudge Dennis’s knees apart with your leg, sitting down between them. You unbuckle his belt slowly, carefully, the clinking of metal filling the air as you look up at him. Dennis looks close to cumming already, his chest moving up and down, breathing shallow.
“Look, angel, you’re killing him already. Might need a visit to the Pitt on our day off,” Robby teases, and Dennis pouts.
“No, we won’t! I’m fine.”
“We know, baby, it’s cute,” the pet name just slips out, and his eyes clamp shut. Heat radiates off his lap, and you’re sure he won’t last anywhere near the entirety of you and Robby having sex.
“You think you got more than one load in you?” Robby asks, and Dennis nods rapidly. You and Robby share a smile.
“How about you get one out now so you can focus more when we actually start, yeah?” Robby smiles, voice laced with condescension, but Dennis is already too far gone to care about embarrassment.
“Yeahyeah, yeah,” he nods, “that sounds good.”
He lifts his hips for you to pull his jeans down, clamping his hands over his lap immediately. You gently take his wrists and put them on the arm rests. His erection jumps up beneath his boxers, tenting the fabric.
“Much better,” you say. Still on your knees you turn around to face your boyfriend’s crotch. He’s only in boxers too by now, and you kiss down his tummy, fingers slipping past his waistband. Before you can go any further you stop. An unmistakable squelching sounds from behind you, and Dennis’s hand stops moving beneath his boxers when your eyes meet his.
“Oh,” you say all sweetly.
“I’m sorry— I thought you said…”
“I was gonna help but if you’d rather jerk off that’s fine.”
Dennis’s eyes go between yours and Robby’s, your boyfriend laughing at the bewildered look.
“But I thought I couldn’t touch you…”
“I said you can’t fuck her, ‘s just her hand,” Robby huffs.
“Oh,” Dennis says, unable to form any words beyond that.
“So you want me to?” You ask from between his legs.
“Yes please, only if you want to, of course.”
“I want to,” you nod, silently giggling.
You move towards Dennis to kiss him, but stop just a few inches short of his mouth, “Can I kiss you? Didn’t even ask before.”
Dennis gives a laugh; it’s bizzare to him that you’d have to ask him. Sometimes, on bad days, he feels wrong for just existing in your presence. It’s funny that you think there’s a world in which he wouldn’t do whatever you asked.
“Yeah, you can kiss me. Can do anything you want to me.”
You grin against his lips as you lean in to kiss him. Dennis’s hands grab at your head, not uncomfortably but not exactly gently
“Easy there, tiger,” Robby says, and Dennis’s hands loosen as a string of sorrysorrysorry spills from his lips.
“‘S okay,” you mumble, enjoying the way he’s about to swallow you whole.
“God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Didn’t think it’d ever happen,” Dennis moans against your neck as he kisses down it, desperate to leave a hickey, but he’s currently too uncoordinated with need to touch you however he can.
“Yeah, you got lucky. Have to give it it to you, you’ve got balls on you to ask her out,” Robby chuckles.
Dennis moans. “Already told you I didn’t know you were together.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Robby doesn’t have to go into detail for Dennis to realise what he’s implying. He’s not exactly hurt, even if it’s not a nice thing to say. He agrees that you’re way out of his league, out of Robby’s too though.
“Ignore him. I think you’re hot,” you whisper against his lips.
“Not cute?” Dennis pulls away from the kiss for a second to swallow down his surprise.
“You’re cute too, very cute.”
“Oh,” Dennis frowns.
“Why do you think that’s such a bad thing?”
Dennis looks down, meeting your eyes for only a split second. “I wanna be hot like Robby,” he pouts.
“Give it another twenty–hmm, thirty years, some untreated depression and a few burnouts and you might have a chance,” you giggle.
“Ha ha,” Robby says. You reach out to smooth your hand over his thigh, whispering, “be there in a second.”
“Take your time with him, angel. God knows he’s enjoying it.”
“I am,” Dennis assures with a series of nods before you kiss him again, his tongue immediately finding yours.
Your hands are planted on his thighs but start to move desperately towards his boxers. You pull the waistband down and wrap a hand around the head of his cock, all wet with precum.
“Much bigger than I imagined,” you tell him.
Dennis isn’t sure whether to be offended or proud, but his body makes the decision for him as his cock bobs on its own, begging for your touch. You leave him like this for a second, standing up to full height to pull your shirt over your head but Robby stops you, a hand on the hem.
“Not yet, baby. You might kill him.”
“Nonono, I’m— I want to see.”
“Let him see, baby. Don’t be mean.”
You smile at Robby who pulls you closer. He slowly drags your t-shirt over the top of your head, pulling your shorts down after. You’re left in a relatively simple but pretty matching set. Robby thought Dennis might die if you wore something more sexy. You thought he just wanted to be the only one to see you in your Sunday best lingerie, but he might have been right.
Dennis genuinely stops breathing for a few seconds, launching into a coughing fit that he only just manages to stop before it gets concerning.
“What did I tell you?” Robby looks up at you, hands smoothing over your body, directing you to stand in front of Dennis.
“Doesn’t my girl look pretty?” Robby asks, a hand on your waist, the other moving around your front and squeezing your tit through your bra.
“You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Not just pretty— you’re beautiful. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real.”
“Trust me, kid, she’s real. Here,” Robby’s hand slides down your front and into your panties, making you gasp. It’s the first time this evening you’re being touched and Robby’s cold fingers on your clit make a shiver run up your spine as you cross one leg over the other.
Robby pushes a rough finger into your pussy, playing in it for a second and adding another finger until a crude wet sound fills the room, and promptly pulls his fingers out.
“Very real,” he says, holding his two fingers up and spreading them, strings of your arousal webbing between them. Robby sucks them off his fingers before Dennis can even think of how you’d taste. Robby gives your ass a loving slap and you get back on your knees between Dennis’s legs, his cock straining out of the top of his boxers.
You place your hand in front of Dennis’s mouth, and he instinctively spits into it.
“Thank you,” you say softly, and watch his cock move to your words right in front of you.
You place a spit slicked palm against the underside of his cock, wrapping your hand around it. You begin to focus on the action of jerking him off when Dennis’s hand circles your wrist.
“Are you— you don’t have to. I won’t last long.”
“I want to. And I know,” you smile. Your hand speeds up around him, grabbing him slightly too tightly to make him squirm some more. You think the time is ripe to show Dennis what it entails when Robby says Dennis just can’t fuck you, and you bend down to suck on his full balls softly.
“Oh my g— holy shit,” Dennis whimpers, cumming immediately. His cum spurts out of him all at once, a large string splattering on his own abs with a wet smack from how much it is. The rest runs down his cock and you wipe some of it with your hand for more lube to jerk him off with.
“Would you look at that,” Robby coos, watching in awe as you milk your student doctor’s throbbing cock. By the end of Dennis’s orgasm his lap and your forearm are a sticky mess, Dennis reduced to a tired blob-like thing as he catches his breath.
“Not gettin’ tired on us already, are you? We’re just gettin’ started,” Robby throws a pack of wet wipes on Dennis’s lap which wakes him up a little.
“I’m not tired! But fuck, that was… that was amazing. I’ve never cum that much before.”
You smile as you kiss Dennis again, a few drops of his cum on your lips, but you deny him your mouth for much longer than it takes him to lick them up. He grabs a wet wipe to clean off your hands and forearm, completely neglecting his own lap which must be much more sticky and uncomfortable. He wipes it off you gently, looking into your eyes with awe every few seconds.
“So what happened to… I mean I was surprised I’m even allowed to kiss you.”
“It’s like Robby said,” you shrug, “you can’t fuck me. It was just my mouth. ‘n I wanted to taste you.”
His eyes light up. “Does that mean I can—”
“No,” Robby bellows before he can hear the whole question, “her pussy’s mine.”
“Alright…” Dennis hangs his head.
He cleans himself off next, and his cock hasn’t even gone soft for a second, still standing tall and in need of attention. While Dennis is still taking care of the mess he made of himself, you finally join Robby on the bed, straddling him to give him a sloppy kiss, pulling on his lower lip with your teeth.
Robby unclasps your bra at your back, sliding the straps down your arms and cupping your tits as you continue to make out.
“Wanna see too,” Dennis whines, and you giggle.
“Real fuckin’ greedy considering you’re a guest in our house,” Robby comments with a huff, but lets you turn around nevertheless. He adjusts your hips so you’re sitting on his cock that settles right between your legs, pushed against your clothed pussy. His hands are still on your tits, playing with your nipples.
Without him even seeing them fully, you’re still sure Dennis’s eyes have little heart shapes in them.
“They’re perfect,” he drools, hands already back on his dick as he presses it down against his abs, not jerking off yet, wanting to prolong this one.
“Robby... do you recall when I told Dennis that he could touch himself?” You ask, head cocked to the side.
He chuckles, "don't think you did, sweetheart."
“Oh! I’m just, I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Can you do me a favour? Sit on your hands.”
He slowly moves them away and places them under his thighs, already looking desperate.
“Good boy. And don’t move them until I tell you to, okay?” you send him a little wink as you giggle, Robby beginning to play with your clit.
Dennis just nods in fear of only being able to moan if he opened his mouth.
“Okay?” you repeat in a tone Dennis has only heard from you at work.
“Yes, I promise. I’ll be good.”
You look down and reach behind yourself to pull Robby’s boxers down, hard cock pushing against your wet panties. Robby pulls your panties to the side and rearranges you to push himself right inside you, and you both moan in pleasure.
In that moment Dennis isn’t just jealous of how Robby gets to be inside of you, but how familiar he is with your body. That he knew you were wet enough already to take him fully, that his cock seems to fit in your pussy like they were made for each other. He squirms on top of his own hands that have begun to sweat from need.
“That’s it, angel, fuck, so good to me,” Robby groans as you begin to move, getting used to the feeling of him deep inside.
You whimper and moan as Robby reaches around you to play with your clit, enjoying as Dennis’s eyes are glued to your pussy that’s split open by the cock of your shared attending.
“Fuck me,” your boyfriend moans, pulsing inside you. Dennis gulps at hearing those familiar words in their literal context, seeing them lived out. It’s getting harder to not touch himself, the urge to move is strong, and he finds himself pushing against the air, aiming for some kind of friction.
You giggle loudly when Robby picks you up by the waist, lying you down on your back to fuck you better. He likes that you’re bare except for your panties, something about Dennis not getting to see you completely naked, if only technically.
“Pussy feels so good,” Robby sinks into you again, grabbing your knees to widen them, pushing them up against the sides of your chest, “so lucky I get to fuck you every night, angel.” You know he means it but you also know he’s trying to make Dennis jealous, as if the poor boy isn’t bursting from it already.
You look over at him to see a big pout, interrupted only by a small smile as his eyes move towards your tits, watching them bounce from Robby’s thrusts. You nod up at your boyfriend who follows your eyes, taking in his pathetic student doctor.
“What now?” He huffs.
“It’s just, I wanna see. Can’t really see from over here..”
Robby gets up, leaving you whining at the sudden emptiness in your pussy, and he drags Dennis up by the arm and parks him on the bed, sitting him against the headboard. You’re mere inches from him now, and the look in your eyes reminds him to sit on his hands. He kicks off his boxers that have slipped halfway down his thighs anyway. You help pull them off past his knees, leaving goosebumps behind where you touch him.
“Better?”
Dennis nods contentedly.
“Wait,” you rest your hand against Robby’s chest before he can slide into you again, and you peer up at Dennis, “you want a taste?”
Dennis straightens up, ready to get between your legs but Robby pushes him back. Instead, he plunges two fingers into your pussy, obscene wet sounds filling the room as he fucks into you a few times. His fingers come out with strings of wetness sliding down. Dennis is already drooling from the sight.
Robby coats Dennis’s lips in it, then puts his fingers in Dennis’s mouth as he sucks them eagerly, eyes first on Robby, then on you when he sees you watching him with a soft smile on your face.
“You like her taste?” Robby muses, the sucking sounds from Dennis’s mouth around his fingers obscenely loud.
“Mmhmmm,” Dennis moans around the two fat fingers being shoved down his throat.
Robby roughly pats Dennis’s cheek, his cock flexing at the action. You don’t miss the moan that leaves Dennis when Robby ruffles his hair before he joins you again.
“You still okay?” you get on all fours, hands next to Dennis’s hips.
“It’s really difficult, not touching myself.”
“Aww, is it?” you pout, and Dennis hopes for a moment that you’ll let him jerk off, “Just a bit longer for me, okay?”
He nods with a tight-lipped smile. The bed dips behind you as Robby gets between your legs, rubbing his tip against your pussy. You moan and lean in to Dennis, who takes it as an invitation for a kiss. You certainly don’t mind, but your forehead almost bangs against his when Robby thrusts into you again for the first time. Somehow it’s still Dennis, cock untouched, who moans loudest.
“Close enough now?” Robby asks, hips meeting yours, the bed shaking as the motion pulls you between him and Dennis.
You place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, and he moans from the contact. Dennis’s dick repeatedly slaps against his abs with the way the mattress moves from every one of Robby’s thrusts and he looks too delicious to ignore any longer.
“Robby? Baby?” you say over your shoulder and he pulls out, cock resting against your ass cheek.
“C’mere,” he pulls you to sit upright on your knees, hand reaching out to grope your tit while he kisses you, his mouth possessive on you. You reach between your legs to drag your fingers through your slick, bending back down to wrap your wet hand around Dennis.
“Fuck that’s hot, baby. You gonna make Dennis cum? Gonna make him feel good, hm?” Robby babbles as he rests a hand on your back, the other reaching around your waist to slide down to your clit as he keeps fucking you.
“Holy fuck, feels so good,” Dennis squirms, eyes screwed shut, and as pretty as he looks with his cheeks all pink you’re not quite ready for him to finish yet, so you move down to his balls, kneading them with one hand.
You’re starting to feel almost light-headed too. Robby playing with your clit has you squirming, knees getting weak.
“Don’t give up on me now, angel. Gotta make you cum first.”
You nod with a moan, arching your back further as you rest your head on Dennis’s thigh, still playing with his balls, reaching up to wrap your hand around him again, jerking him off mostly at the top.
“There you go, good girl. He’s almost there. You wanna cum?” Robby asks, leaning forward so his soft tummy grazes your lower back as his hips snap against yours, reducing you to a cock-drunk mess.
“Wanna make Dennis cum first,” you mumble, wetting your lips and kissing Dennis’s balls, then up his cock and sucking the tip into your mouth. You wrap your hand around his base, moving your head up and down as your tongue drags over the underside of his cock.
"Oh my god," is all Dennis manages to groan out.
“Fuck, angel, doin’ such a good job. Squeezing around my cock, not gonna last much longer,” Robby moans, and the urgency from his hand on your clit makes you speed up your movements, Dennis’s tip bulging against your cheek, drool running down your chin. He’s still being good and sitting on his hands, squirming on top of them so his cock pushes deeper down your throat as he whines.
“Oh fuck – feels so fucking good.”
“Gonna cum for my girl, Whitaker? Gonna cum down her throat? Show her how you taste, know she wants it so badly.”
Your little muffled uh uh uh around Dennis’s cock only spurs Robby on as he circles your sensitive clit, holding your hips up with his other arm so you don’t collapse while he fucks you.
Dennis lets out a string of words you can’t quite understand as his hips push up and he cums in your mouth. Your mouth moves around his dick until he’s about to cry, utterly drained of cum and energy and you move back to all fours in time for Robby to make you cum.
Your back arches as you push your lips against Dennis’s, and his hands are finally on you, groping your tits as Robby fucks you into oblivion, the bliss from your orgasm starting from your pussy and spreading into your limbs.
“That’s my angel girl, I got you I got you, gonna cum, baby, ‘m so fucking close” Robby moans as you clench around him, pussy milking his cum out of him. You bite into Dennis’s lip as your boyfriend’s warm load floods your pussy, your own orgasm prolonged as Robby relentlessly circles your clit.
His hips push against your ass a few more times until he stops, cock beginning to soften inside you, still throbbing.
“Holy shit,” you huff, collapsing onto your back.
“Fuck, that was, that was so… that was so fucking hot,” Dennis rambles, slumped against the headboard and out of breath. His own cum dribbles down his chin from where you just kissed him.
“Now you know why I call her angel,” Robby says as he lies down on his stomach next to you, arm draped over your waist.
You’re all silent for a few moments, catching your breath. You start to giggle when you look up at Dennis, who is upside down from your angle. The two men smile, then break out into giggles too.
Robby presses a kiss into your hair, moving closer to spoon you.
Dennis looks down at you, a small but content smile on his lips, “you’re so beautiful,” he says.
“Don’t go fallin’ in love with her, Whitaker.”
You roll your eyes and squeeze Dennis’s knee, “that was nice.”
He looks around as if looking for something, then “I think I missed my last bus. D’you think you could call me an Uber? I’ll paypal you when I get paid.”
You giggle and Dennis looks offended for a second.
“Don’t be silly, you’re staying with us tonight,” you wrap your hands around his surprisingly meaty thigh, resting your head on it.
Dennis smiles, unsure whether to pretend that this is a nuisance, when really he’d like to stay in your bed forever.
“Is kissing still allowed now?” He asks shyly, eyebrows drawn together.
You nod, sitting up to meet his lips.
You drag him to the bathroom with you and Robby afterwards. Robby sits you on the counter and cleans you gently, massaging your thighs while his hands run up them.
“C’mere,” you tell Dennis, turning to the side so he can stand next to Robby. You run a cool washcloth over his face, down his glistening chest, a slight pink rash from too much excitement covering it, and gently clean up the residue of his orgasm around his soft, though slightly hardening, cock.
You feed on little snacks after before you fall into bed a giggly mess, Robby spooning you, you spooning Dennis as you brush your hand through his hair.
Out of all the things Dennis expected to happen after he asked you out, this is the thing he expected the least. But he can’t say he’s disappointed.
P.S. thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! If you did I'd be eternally grateful if you could reblog and if you want to be extra nice lmk what you liked!! <3 I spent days writing this and a small rb and comment goes a looong way :)
A little more softness around her waist. Her favorite jeans fitting differently. The number on the scale creeping upward.
None of it should have mattered.
But lately, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Jensen noticed first.
She was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, tugging anxiously at the hem of her shirt, trying to convince herself that she was imagining how different she looked.
Danneel appeared in the doorway.
“Baby?”
She immediately dropped the shirt.
“Nothing.”
Danneel gave her a knowing look. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“I’ve gained weight.”
Jensen, who had been walking down the hallway, stopped when he heard her voice.
He came closer, his expression softening.
“Hey…”
She shook her head quickly. “I know it’s stupid. I just—I don’t feel pretty anymore.”
Jensen’s face fell.
Danneel walked over and gently took her hands.
“Don’t call yourself stupid for having feelings.”
Her eyes became watery.
“I don’t know why you two would still want me when I look like this.”
Jensen immediately stepped closer.
“Look like what?”
She hesitated.
“Bigger.”
He gently shook his head.
“You’re still you.”
Danneel wrapped her arms around her from behind, resting her chin against her shoulder.
“And you’re still the woman we fell in love with.”
She sniffled.
“But my clothes—”
“Clothes are supposed to fit your body,” Danneel interrupted gently. “Your body isn’t supposed to hurt itself trying to fit clothes.”
That made her eyes fill with tears.
Jensen brushed one away with his thumb.
“You don’t have to earn being loved by staying a certain size.”
She looked between them.
“You really don’t care?”
Jensen smiled softly.
“I care that you’re hurting.”
Danneel kissed her cheek.
“And I care that you’re being cruel to yourself.”
She finally let herself lean into them.
Jensen wrapped his arms around her while Danneel held her close from the other side.
“You don’t have to love every part of yourself tonight,” Jensen murmured. “Just don’t hate yourself for changing.”
She closed her eyes.
For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to breathe.
And surrounded by the two people who loved her most, the mirror suddenly didn’t seem quite so important.
The garage bay smelled of gasoline and metal, but beneath that familiar scent, there was something else—something musky and sweet that made Clay's nostrils flare as he watched Bun work. The petite rabbit hybrid moved with a frantic energy, her small hands fumbling with a wrench as she bent over the motorcycle frame. Her coveralls strained against her slight curves, and Clay couldn't help but notice how she kept shifting her weight from one foot to another, her fluffy tail twitching in rapid succession.
Bun's ears perked up suddenly, as if she'd heard something, and she turned her head sharply. Her nose twitched rapidly, taking in the scents around her, and a soft whimper escaped her lips. She dropped the wrench she'd been holding and pressed her thighs together tightly, her hips making small, involuntary circles against the workbench she was leaning against. Clay watched as her breathing grew shallow and her movements became more desperate, her fingers digging into the edge of the bench as she ground against it with increasing force.
"Fuck," Bun whispered to herself, her voice thick with desire. She reached down with one hand and adjusted herself inside her coveralls, her movements clumsy and frantic. "I can't... I can't stop..."
Clay took a step closer, his boots making a soft thud against the concrete floor. Bun's head snapped up at the sound, her eyes wide and glassy with need. She froze for a moment, her body tense, before her gaze dropped to the floor in what Clay recognized as a submissive gesture.
"Bun," Clay said, his voice low and commanding. "What's going on?"
Bun shook her head, her ears drooping. "Nothing, Mr. Clay. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Clay replied, taking another step closer. He could smell her arousal now, thick and potent in the air between them. "Your heat cycle is acting up again, isn't it?"
Bun nodded slightly, her body trembling visibly. "It's just... it's harder this time. I can't concentrate. I just..." She trailed off, her hips resuming their restless movement against the bench.
Before Clay could respond, the door to the garage swung open, and Gemma strode in, her leather boots clicking against the concrete. She took one look at Bun's state and raised an eyebrow at Clay.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a little situation," Gemma said, her voice sharp and authoritative.
Bun's ears perked up at the sound of Gemma's voice, and she turned her head to look at the older woman. Her eyes widened slightly, and she took a small step back, pressing herself more firmly against the workbench.
"Gemma," Clay said, nodding in acknowledgment. "Bun's heat cycle is giving her some trouble."
"Some trouble?" Gemma replied, walking closer to examine Bun more closely. "She looks like she's about to crawl out of her own skin. How long has she been like this?"
"Not long," Clay admitted. "I just noticed myself."
Gemma circled around Bun, her eyes taking in the rabbit hybrid's frantic movements and desperate expression. She stopped behind Bun and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing Bun to jump slightly.
"Shh," Gemma soothed, her voice softening slightly. "We're here to help, sweetheart. But you need to listen to us, okay?"
Bun nodded, her breathing ragged. "Yes, ma'am. I'll try."
"You're going to do more than try," Gemma said, her voice firm once more. "You're going to stop this little show right now and let us handle this. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Bun whispered, her body trembling with the effort of holding still.
Clay and Gemma exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. They had dealt with heat cycles before, but never one quite so intense or public. It was clear that Bun needed more than just words to bring her back under control.
"We need to get her somewhere private," Clay said, his voice low and serious. "Somewhere we can properly address this."
Gemma nodded in agreement. "The discipline room in the clubhouse. It's soundproofed and equipped for this kind of situation."
As they spoke, Bun's body began to tremble even more violently, her breathing growing shallower and more desperate. She looked up at them with wide, pleading eyes, her mouth opening and closing silently as if she were trying to speak but couldn't find the words.
"I need... please..." she finally managed to choke out, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Clay stepped forward and placed a hand on Bun's other shoulder, effectively boxing her in between himself and Gemma. The rabbit hybrid flinched slightly at his touch but didn't pull away, her body seeming to recognize the dominance in his grip.
"It's okay, bunny," Clay said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the firmness of his hold. "We're going to take care of you. But you have to trust us. Can you do that?"
Bun nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, sir. I trust you."
"Good girl," Clay murmured, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze. "Now, Gemma and I are going to help you walk to the clubhouse. You're going to hold onto us, and you're not going to let go, understand?"
Bun nodded again, her breathing starting to steady slightly now that she had direction. "Yes, sir. I understand."
With that, Clay and Gemma each took one of Bun's arms and gently but firmly guided her away from the workbench and toward the door of the garage. As they walked, Bun's fluffy tail twitched nervously, but her steps were steadier than they had been moments before, her body responding to the dominant guidance of the two bikers.
They had just reached the door when Bun suddenly stopped walking, her body tensing up again. She looked up at Clay and Gemma with a desperate, pleading expression, her lips parting slightly as if she were about to speak.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Gemma asked, her voice softened with concern. "What do you need?"
Bun swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. "Please... can I... can I ask for something first?"
Clay and Gemma exchanged a look, a silent communication passing between them. After a moment, Clay gave a slight nod, and Gemma turned her attention back to Bun.
"What is it you want to ask, sweetheart?" Gemma prompted gently. "You can tell us anything."
Bun took a deep breath, her body trembling with nervous energy. "Please... sir... ma'am... when we get to the clubhouse... will you... will you help me with my heat? Will you make it better?"
Clay and Gemma looked at each other again, this time with a different expression—a knowing understanding that passed between them as dominant partners who had handled situations like this before.
"Of course we will, bunny," Clay said, his voice firm and reassuring. "That's exactly why we're taking you to the clubhouse. To help you through this."
Bun's face relaxed slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, sir. Thank you, ma'am."
"Don't thank us yet, sweetheart," Gemma said, a hint of a smile touching her own lips. "We've got a lot of work to do to help you through this heat cycle of yours. And it's going to require your full cooperation."
Bun nodded eagerly, her eyes bright with anticipation. "I'll cooperate, ma'am. I promise."
"Good girl," Clay murmured, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "Now, let's get you to the clubhouse. We've got a long night ahead of us."
THE FIRST LESSON
The door to the discipline room clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the clubhouse outside. The room was dimly lit, dominated by a central leather-padded table that gleamed under the soft light.
"On your back, bunny," Clay directed, his voice firm but not unkind. "It's time we help you focus that energy."
Bun hesitated for just a moment, her rabbit ears twitching nervously, before complying. She hopped onto the table, her movements clumsy with arousal, and lay back against the cool leather. Her coveralls gaped open slightly, revealing flashes of pale skin beneath.
Gemma moved to stand at the head of the table, her sharp eyes assessing Bun's state. "You're trembling, sweetheart. That's okay. We're going to help you with that."
Clay approached the side of the table, producing a set of leather restraints from a drawer. "Arms above your head, bunny. It's time to learn some control."
Bun raised her arms without protest, watching as Clay efficiently secured her wrists to the frame of the table. The leather straps were soft against her skin, yet unyielding.
"Legs apart now," Gemma instructed, moving to stand between Bun's thighs. "Let's see what we're working with."
Bun spread her legs, her movements becoming more fluid now that she was being directed. Her coveralls fell open completely, revealing her damp panties and the twitching rabbit tail between her thighs.
"Such a pretty little thing," Gemma murmured, running a hand along Bun's inner thigh. "All this need bottled up inside you. It's a wonder you haven't torn yourself apart."
Clay finished securing Bun's ankles and stepped back to survey his work. "She's ready for her first lesson, I think."
Bun's hips bucked involuntarily, her body already responding to their touch and words. "Please... sir... ma'am... I don't know if I can..."
"Can't what, bunny?" Clay asked, his voice dropping lower. "Can't take what we have to offer? Or can't wait any longer?"
"I... I don't know," Bun admitted, her breathing growing ragged. "I just need... I need something."
"We know what you need," Gemma said, her hand moving higher, tracing the outline of Bun's panties. "But you need to learn how to ask for it properly."
Bun's hips bucked again, this time more insistently. "Please... please help me... I need... I need to come."
"Not yet, sweetheart," Gemma chided, removing her hand completely. "Not until you've earned it."
"Earned it?" Bun asked, confusion mixing with her desperation. "How?"
"By learning patience," Clay explained, his hand coming to rest on Bun's thigh. "By understanding that pleasure is a reward, not a right. And by learning that your body belongs to us now."
Bun's eyes widened, a mixture of fear and excitement flashing across her face. "Yes... yes, sir. I understand."
"Do you?" Gemma asked, her fingers trailing lightly across Bun's stomach. "Because right now, I can feel how much you need this. And we're going to make sure you get exactly what you need, when you need it."
Bun's hips bucked again, this time with a sense of purpose. "Please... sir... ma'am... may I please have a spanking? I think it might help me focus."
"That's a good start, sweetheart," Gemma said, her voice softening slightly. "But you need to ask more properly. Tell me why you think you deserve a spanking."
Bun took a deep breath, her mind racing. "Because... because I've been bad. I've been thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about. And I've been touching myself when I shouldn't be."
"And what do you think a spanking will do for you?" Clay asked, his hand still resting on Bun's thigh.
"It will... it will help me focus," Bun said, her voice growing more confident. "It will help me remember who's in charge. And it will make me feel better."
Gemma positioned herself at the foot of the table, her hand raised. "Ready for your first lesson, bunny?"
Bun nodded, her eyes fixed on Gemma's raised hand. "Yes, ma'am. I'm ready."
"Remember to count," Gemma instructed, her hand descending to land a sharp smack on Bun's rear. "And thank me after each one."
"One... thank you, ma'am," Bun gasped, the sting spreading across her buttocks.
Gemma landed another smack, slightly harder this time. "Again, bunny. Count and thank me."
"Two... thank you, ma'am," Bun cried out, her hips bucking against the restraints.
Gemma continued, alternating between sharp smacks and softer ones, building a rhythm that made Bun's body hum with sensation. With each smack, Bun's cries grew louder, her hips bucking more insistently against the restraints.
After several minutes, Gemma paused, her hand resting on Bun's heated rear. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
"Hot... so hot," Bun gasped, her breathing ragged. "And... and I need... I need to come so badly."
"Not yet," Gemma said, her hand moving to cup Bun's mound through her panties. "You need to learn patience. And you need to learn that your pleasure belongs to us now."
Bun's hips bucked against Gemma's hand, seeking more friction. "Please... please, ma'am... may I please come now?"
"Not quite yet, bunny," Clay said, moving to stand beside Gemma. "You need to earn it. And we need to make sure you understand the rules."
"Good girl," Clay murmured, his hand coming to rest on Bun's thigh. "Now, let's continue your lesson."
COMPLETE SUBMISSION
The transition from discipline room to Clay's private chamber was seamless, the boundaries of Bun's world shrinking to the space between her two masters. The chamber was darker than the discipline room, filled with the scent of leather and sandalwood, with large windows offering a view of the moonlit garage below. The centerpiece was a massive four-poster bed, draped in black silk sheets, where Bun would soon be broken and remade.
Clay's hands were firm on Bun's shoulders as he guided her to her knees before the bed. "On your knees, bunny," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her entire body. "Present yourself to us."
Bun trembled as she lowered herself to the plush carpet, her back straight, her head bowed in submission. Her rabbit ears twitched nervously, and her fluffy tail thumped softly against the floor. She knew what was expected of her, what she had craved during her heat cycle, and now she was being given the ultimate opportunity to fulfill those primal desires under the exacting control of her masters.
Gemma circled around Bun like a predator, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the trembling submissive before her. "You're doing well, bunny," she praised, reaching down to run her fingers through Bun's soft fur. "But we need to make sure you understand the rules of this game. Your pleasure is ours to give or withhold. Your body is ours to use as we see fit. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Bun whispered, her voice barely audible. "My body belongs to you. My pleasure is yours to command."
"Good girl," Gemma purred, her hand moving to cup Bun's cheek. "Now, let's see how well you can follow our commands."
With that, Gemma reached down and began to undo the buttons on Bun's coveralls, revealing the soft, pale skin beneath. Clay watched intently, his eyes dark with desire as he saw the curves of Bun's body slowly exposed to their hungry gazes. Once the coveralls were open, Gemma slid them off Bun's shoulders, leaving her in nothing but her damp panties, which were quickly removed as well, leaving Bun completely naked and vulnerable before her masters.
Bun's heart raced as she knelt there, exposed and vulnerable, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and she craved it with every fiber of her being. Her rabbit ears twitched nervously, and her fluffy tail thumped softly against the floor as she waited for her masters' next command.
"Spread your legs, bunny," Gemma commanded, her voice firm and unyielding. "Show us what belongs to us."
Bun hesitated for a moment, her body tense with nervousness, but then she slowly spread her legs, opening herself completely to her masters' gaze. She felt a flush of embarrassment at her own exposure, but also a thrill of excitement at the knowledge that she was being seen and desired in this way.
"Very good, bunny," Clay murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her entire body. "You are a beautiful sight, and we are going to enjoy every inch of you."
With that, Clay moved behind Bun, his hands resting on her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. Gemma, meanwhile, knelt before Bun, her hands gently parting the soft fur between Bun's legs to reveal the glistening pink flesh beneath.
"Ready for us, bunny?" Gemma asked, her eyes locked on Bun's as she began to stroke the sensitive nub of flesh at the top of Bun's slit.
"Y-yes, ma'am," Bun gasped, her body trembling with anticipation. "I'm ready for whatever you want to give me."
"Good girl," Gemma purred, her fingers continuing their slow, torturous circles around Bun's clit. "Now, let's see how well you can take both of us at once."
With that, Gemma increased the pressure of her fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through Bun's body just as Clay began to push his cock into her from behind. Bun gasped at the sudden intrusion, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing and accepting the thick length of Clay's cock as it slid deeper and deeper inside her.
"Oh god," Bun moaned, her head thrown back in ecstasy as her masters began to move in perfect sync, Clay thrusting into her from behind while Gemma's fingers worked their magic on her clit.
"You feel so good, bunny," Clay growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming into her with increasing force and speed. "Your tight little pussy is gripping my cock so fucking tight."
"Thank you, sir," Bun gasped, her body writhing in pleasure as her masters took complete control of her body. "It feels so good to be filled by you."
"That's right, bunny," Gemma purred, her fingers moving faster and faster around Bun's clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "You were made for this. You were made to be taken and used by us in any way we see fit."
"Y-yes, ma'am," Bun whimpered, her body trembling on the brink of release. "I live to serve you. I live to please you in any way I can."
"Then come for us, bunny," Gemma commanded, her fingers pressing down hard on Bun's clit just as Clay slammed his cock into her one final time. "Come for us now and show us how much you love being our little fuck toy."
With that final command, Bun's body exploded in a wave of pure ecstasy, her orgasm ripping through her with such force that she screamed out her masters' names as waves of pleasure washed over her. Clay and Gemma continued to move in perfect sync, drawing out Bun's orgasm until she was gasping and trembling, her body completely spent and wrung out.
"Good girl," Clay murmured, slowing his thrusts as he allowed Bun's body to recover from the intense orgasm. "You took us so well, bunny. You're a natural-born submissive, aren't you?"
"Y-yes, sir," Bun whispered, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her powerful orgasm. "I was born to submit to you. To please you in any way I can."
"That's right, bunny," Gemma purred, her fingers still gently stroking Bun's clit, keeping her on the edge of arousal even as her body recovered from the intense orgasm. "And we're going to make sure you never forget that. We're going to train you to be the perfect submissive, to anticipate our every desire and need before we even know them ourselves."
"Please," Bun begged, her body writhing with desire as Gemma's fingers continued their slow, torturous circles around her clit. "Please, ma'am. Please let me come again. Please let me feel that pleasure again."
"Not yet, bunny," Gemma chuckled, her fingers stopping their movement as she looked down at the pleading submissive before her. "You've had one orgasm tonight. That's enough for now. We need to make sure you can handle being denied, just as much as you can handle being given pleasure."
"B-but, ma'am," Bun protested, her body aching with the need for release that Gemma had so expertly built up and then denied. "I need to come. I need to feel that pleasure again. Please, ma'am. Please don't deny me."
"Silence, bunny," Clay commanded, his voice firm and unyielding as he leaned down to whisper in Bun's ear. "You will accept whatever we choose to give you, whether it's pleasure or denial. You will accept it gratefully and without question, because your pleasure belongs to us now. Your body is ours to use as we see fit. And we have decided that you have had enough pleasure for one night."
With that final command, Clay and Gemma helped Bun to her feet, guiding her to the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room. They gently laid her down on the black silk sheets, arranging her body in a position of complete surrender and submission. Then, without another word, they left the room, leaving Bun alone and aching with unfulfilled desire, her body trembling with the knowledge that she was completely and utterly at their mercy.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Bun took a deep breath, her mind racing with thoughts of what had just happened and what might happen next. She knew that she had been thoroughly broken and remade in the image of the perfect submissive, trained to accept whatever her masters chose to give her, whether it was pleasure or pain, praise or denial. And she knew that she would do anything and everything to please them, to make them proud of her, to prove herself worthy of the gift of their dominance.
She closed her eyes, her body trembling with anticipation as she waited for her masters to return, knowing that whatever they chose to do to her next, she would accept it gratefully and without question, because her pleasure belonged to them now. Her body was theirs to use as they saw fit. And she was theirs to command, forever and always.
I’m wearing his favorite pair of my shorts—the white denim ones that ride up so high they’re basically a belt with pockets—and a cropped tank that says Juicy in rhinestones across the chest. I’ve got my phone propped in a ring light stand on his nightstand, a TikTok already cued up. The dance is three moves, max, but the beat is stupidly catchy.
“Simon.” I whisper it first, leaning against the doorframe.
He doesn’t turn. Just holds up a single finger. Wait.
I pout. He can’t see it, but I pout anyway.
The thing is, I’ve been planning this all afternoon. I watched the tutorial fourteen times. I practiced the hip roll in front of the mirror until my lower back ached. And now he’s on some boring Zoom call with people who probably talk about quarterly earnings or whatever. Important, sure. But is any of it as important as me shaking my ass in perfect sync?
I decide: no.
Padding across the carpet, I move into his line of sight. Simon’s eyes flick up. He’s mid-sentence, something about “projected margins.” His gaze catches on me—the hem of the shorts, the rhinestones, the way I’ve already started swaying—and I see the tiniest hitch in his voice. Barely a pause. But I catch it.
He looks back at his screen. His jaw tightens.
I turn around, slowly.
The shorts hug every curve. I know because I bought them a size too small on purpose. I bend at the waist, letting my palms slide down my thighs, and I begin the first move: a slow, exaggerated dip of the hips, left, right, left. My phone’s still propped on the nightstand, camera off, but I don’t need to record this. The only audience I want is him.
“And if we adjust the timeline,” Simon says into his headset, voice steady, “we can probably close before Q3.”
I drop lower. My ass wiggles in a figure-eight pattern that I’ve practiced until my glutes burned. The beat is in my head, pounding, and I let it take over. My fingers trail up my sides, over the ribbed fabric of the tank. I arch my back. The move is supposed to be playful. I make it filthy.
Simon’s voice cracks. Just a little. “…excuse me for one second.”
He mutes the call.
“Babe.” His tone is strained, caught between irritation and something much warmer. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I know.” I straighten, turn to face him with my best innocent eyes. “But this dance is so easy, and you promised you’d learn it with me. Remember? You said after your last call.”
“This call isn’t over.”
“It’s on mute,” I point out. “They can’t hear you. And it’ll take, like, thirty seconds. I swear.”
Simon runs a hand through his hair. He’s wearing a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and I can see the vein in his forearm pulse. He glances at his laptop screen, where a grid of serious faces waits in frozen silence. Then he looks back at me.
“Thirty seconds,” he repeats.
“Less.” I bounce on my toes. “Come stand behind me. I’ll walk you through it.”
He exhales, long and slow, but he pushes his chair back and stands. The headset stays on. He leaves the mute engaged, but his eyes never leave me as he crosses the room. When he’s close enough, I grab his wrist and tug him into position behind me.
“Okay, so first move is simple. You just shift your weight, like this—” I demonstrate, dropping my hip to the left, then right. “And you let your shoulders go the opposite way. Try it.”
Simon’s hands land on my waist. Not to dance. To stop me.
“I don’t think I can do this right now.”
“Why not?” I twist in his grip to look up at him. His pupils are dilated. His breath comes a little faster.
“Because you’re not teaching me a dance.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “You’re putting on a show. And I’m supposed to be on a call.”
“So turn off the video.”
He doesn’t move. His thumbs press into the soft skin above my hip bones, and I feel the heat of his palms through the denim. The headset is still on. Somewhere on his computer, a muted voice is probably asking if he’s still there.
“I can’t,” he says. “They’ll see me disconnect.”
My heart hammers. The idea blooms fast and wicked.
“Then keep it on.”
Simon’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“Leave the video on. Stay muted. And teach me something instead.” I rock my hips back, pressing against the front of his pants. He’s already hard. I feel it through the fabric, thick and insistent. “You don’t have to say a word. Just… show me what you want.”
His breath hitches. For a long second, he stares at me, and I can see the war happening behind his eyes—professional Simon versus the man who spent last weekend with his face buried between my thighs until I screamed his name into the pillow.
Professional Simon loses.
His hand slides from my waist, down over the curve of my hip, and he grips the hem of my shorts. He tugs, just enough to pull the denim tight across my ass. Then he presses his palm flat, fingers curling inward.
“You want to learn a dance?” His mouth is at my ear, voice a low rumble. “Then keep moving. Don’t stop.”
I obey.
I start swaying again, slow and deliberate. Each roll of my hips grinds me back against his growing erection. His hand stays on my hip, guiding, but he doesn’t try to control the rhythm. He lets me lead. His other hand, the one not gripping me, moves to the waistband of my shorts. He finds the button. Pops it open one-handed.
The denim loosens.
“Look at the camera,” he murmurs.
I turn my head. The laptop screen shows eight faces in a grid. Most of them are looking down, typing, impatient. One woman stares directly at the camera, brow furrowed. She sees us. She must.
I don’t look away.
Simon’s fingers slide inside my shorts, past the elastic of my panties. He finds me slick, ready, and I hear his sharp inhale when he touches the wet heat. He doesn’t tease. He pushes one finger inside me, shallow, just enough to make my knees buckle.
I gasp. My rhythm breaks.
“Keep dancing,” he says against my neck.
I try. I really do. But his finger is moving now, curling, finding that spot that makes my vision go spotty. My hips stutter. The dance becomes a desperate roll, less choreography, more plea.
“Simon.” His name comes out breathy.
“You wanted my attention.” He adds a second finger, and I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. “You’ve got it. Now show them how much you like it.”
The woman on the laptop screen has stopped typing. Her mouth is slightly open.
I don’t care.
I reach behind me, fumbling for his belt buckle. My fingers find the leather, the cold metal, and I work it open with clumsy urgency. The headset shifts on his ear. Someone on the call says his name, tentative.
Simon ignores them.
He pulls his fingers out of me, wet and glistening, and I hear the sound of his zipper lowering. The rustle of fabric. Then the thick, hot press of him against the bare skin of my ass.
He doesn’t push inside. Not yet.
“Say it,” he says. “Say you want me to fuck you while they watch.”
I look at the camera. At the frozen faces, the waiting silence. My mouth opens.
The dust kicked up behind the old ranch truck as it rattled along the fence line, the Yellowstone valley stretching out in golden waves under the late afternoon sun. John Dutton gripped the steering wheel with one weathered hand, his eyes scanning the barbed wire for breaks while the engine hummed low. Ruby sat beside him in the passenger seat, her soft bunny ears twitching at every bump, her fluffy tail curled against the worn leather. The air inside the cab carried the scent of leather, sweat, and the faint musk of her arousal, already thickening as she shifted restlessly.
Without a word, Ruby unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned across the console, her small hands working at John's belt with eager precision. She freed his cock, already half-hard from the anticipation that always simmered between them, and lowered her head to take him into her warm mouth. Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting the salt of him as she sank deeper, her lips stretching around his thickening shaft. John exhaled sharply, his foot easing on the accelerator as her head bobbed in his lap, the wet sounds of her sucking filling the cab. Her fluffy tail flicked against the seat, and her heightened senses drank in every pulse of his cock against her tongue, every low groan that rumbled from his chest. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder, one hand cupping his balls as she worked him with obsessive devotion, her pussy throbbing untouched between her thighs.
John's knuckles whitened on the wheel, the truck swerving slightly as pleasure blurred his focus. "Damn it, Ruby," he muttered, voice rough with need, but he didn't stop her. The fence line blurred past, forgotten. When her throat relaxed to take him deeper, gagging softly around his full length, he cursed and yanked the wheel, pulling the truck onto the shoulder in a spray of gravel. The engine died, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, thrusting up into her mouth with controlled force as she moaned around him, her ears flattening in submission.
Ben thrust deep into Chloe's slick pussy, pinning her lithe bunny hybrid body beneath his muscular frame in the rumpled sheets of the safehouse bedroom. The air hung thick with the musk of sex and sweat, her soft ears twitching against the pillows as her fluffy tail quivered beneath her ass. Her full natural bush, dark and curly, framed her swollen folds perfectly, the coarse hairs slick with her constant arousal as his thick cock stretched her open with every powerful stroke. "That's it, take daddy's cock like the horny little bunny you are," he growled, his superhuman strength holding her thighs spread wide while his hips slammed relentlessly against hers in intense missionary rhythm.
Chloe moaned wildly, her body arching as he ground against her bush, the friction sending sparks through her perpetually needy core. She reached up to clutch his broad shoulders, her voice breaking into desperate pleas while he leaned down to nip at the base of her sensitive ears, sending shivers racing down her spine to her tail. He grabbed the fluffy appendage, tugging it firmly as he pounded harder, her juices coating his shaft and matting her bush further with each wet slap of skin on skin. Her walls clenched tight around him, her hybrid instincts driving her to buck up and meet every thrust, craving the dominance that only her daddy could provide.
The pressure built fast, her pussy fluttering as he buried himself to the hilt one final time, flooding her with hot, thick ropes of cum in a climactic creampie. "Daddy!" she screamed, ears flattening back and tail spasming in his grip while her orgasm ripped through her, milking every drop from his pulsing cock. Ben held her there, grinding slow and deep to push his seed deeper into her bush-framed depths, her body trembling with the aftershocks of endless need.
John's cock strained visibly against his jeans, but he held back, savoring the way her greedy pussy fluttered and begged for him, the air thick with their shared heat and the faint creak of the bed under her restless movements. With a low growl he finally unbuckled his belt, the slow rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet room as he freed his fat cock, the heavy length springing out thick and veined, the broad head already flushed and leaking a bead of precum that caught the dim light. Chloe's eyes locked on it instantly, her breath hitching at the sight of that familiar girth she'd craved all week, her swollen pussy clenching hard around nothing as fresh slick gushed from her entrance in a sudden, uncontrollable squirt that sprayed across his shaft and balls in warm pulses, her thighs shaking as the release soaked him and the sheets beneath her.
The sight of her squirting on his cock snapped something primal in John, his stoic control fracturing further as he gripped the base and dragged the fat head through her soaked folds, smearing her wetness along every inch while her clit throbbed visibly against him. "That's my insatiable Bunny," he rasped, voice rough with hunger, pressing the broad tip against her entrance without pushing in yet, letting her feel the stretch and heat as another small gush of arousal coated him. Her walls fluttered desperately, the week's denial making every sensation razor-sharp, her breasts heaving and nipples aching as she reached down to wrap her fingers around his shaft, guiding him just enough to feel the promise of being filled while her body trembled on the edge again.
He leaned over her then, one hand pinning her wrist above her head as he rocked his hips in shallow thrusts, the fat head of his cock nudging inside her tight opening with deliberate slowness that made her sob and squirt again in tiny bursts around him. The emotional pull between them tightened with every shared breath, his dominant presence anchoring her wild need, the slick sounds of her dripping cunt meeting his length filling the space as her orgasm built anew from the simple, overwhelming sight and feel of him claiming her once more.
⚠︎ — MDNI 18+. fem!reader, fauxcest (between reader and soldier boy + homelander and reader), voyeurism (homelander watches), slight incestuous themes (homelander watches soldier boy fuck you using x-ray vision), exhibitionism, p in v, male masturbation, dead dove
based on this.
“Your brother is watching through the wall, baby. Why don’t you put on a show for him? Show him how good dad makes you feel…” Ben rolls on top of you, positioning himself between your legs as he hooks his fingers in your panties and pulls them down to your mid thigh.
“Dada….” you mumble the sweet nickname you’ve given your father figure as he slides his length inside of your sticky core. It doesn’t take much for Ben to get you wet, all he has to do is raise a brow and press his body on top of yours and your heartbeat is sent straight to your pussy. The tip of his cock fucks into your cervix, bullying the soft tissue with each rock of his hips.
“That’s right. Your first word, sweetheart. I was so proud when you learned it,” Ben coos as he wedges his hand in between your bodies, his fingers finding the special spot that makes your back arch off the bed. He rubs circular motions, slow and calculated, only picking up the speed to match the rhythm of his strokes. Beneath him, you babble nonsensical words, sounding like a cross between gibberish and ‘more dad!’ as you try to focus on the feeling of Ben’s veins pressed against your wet walls.
“Your kitty is swallowing me up. Such a glossy cunt. You were made just for dad,” he mutters against your ear, the quiet praise still loud enough for Homelander to pick up on through the other side of the wall.
Homelander watches intently, his eyes fixated on the way his father moves around your body. He can’t help but notice his dad knows just how to make you squirm beneath him. As much as he feels that he should pry his gaze away from watching Ben’s length make your belly bulge from his girth alone, or try to refrain from amplifying the sound of your moans and the wet noises of Ben sliding in and out of your cunt, he just can’t stop. Why else would he have developed x-ray vision if not to watch his father fuck you until your juices puddle beneath your body?
John mindlessly moves his hand to his crotch, pressing and palming at his hardening cock. He sucks in a hiss through his teeth as precum leaks from the head. It’s wrong to fuck his hand to this, he’s more than aware, but when has he ever made the morally correct decision? It doesn’t take long to get himself there, the inside of his supe suit painted with his climax as he watches his father slip out of you, dad’s cum leaking down your thighs.
Later when he sees you, John can’t help but say, “You smell like dad, baby. Why don’t you let me have a taste?”
The sale barn thrummed with the low roar of bidders and the sharp scent of hay, manure, and sweat-soaked denim, but Chloe's gaze locked onto John Dutton like a predator sighting prey. She slipped through the crowd in her tight jeans and low-cut top, her nipples already tight against the fabric from the constant throb between her thighs, that familiar ache that never let up. Spotting him near the livestock pens, his broad shoulders squared under a weathered jacket, she approached with a sly, hungry smile, her hips swaying just enough to draw his attention.
"Bunny," he muttered, his voice a gravelly warning as she pressed close, her hand boldly cupping the front of his jeans right there amid the milling ranchers. John's initial shock widened his eyes, his body stiffening under her touch, but the heat of her palm rubbing along his thickening cock sent a flush up his neck, arousal flickering in those commanding eyes as his length hardened against her fingers. "Not here," he growled, but she was already guiding him toward the shadowed stalls at the edge of the barn, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered how wet her pussy was for him, how she'd been riding the edge of need all morning just thinking of his thick shaft buried inside her.
Hidden behind the wooden partitions, Chloe pushed him against the stall wall and dropped to her knees only long enough to free his cock, stroking its veined length before hiking up her skirt and climbing onto his lap. She sank down onto him in one slick motion, her tight pussy stretching around his girth with a shared gasp, her breasts spilling free as she rode him in urgent, rolling thrusts. John's hands gripped her ass, pulling her deeper with each bounce, his stoic resistance melting into raw hunger as her wetness coated him, the slap of skin and her soft moans blending with the distant auction calls. The public risk only sharpened every sensation, her clit grinding against him while his cock pulsed inside her, forging that explosive connection that left them both trembling on the edge of release.
The moment they ducked behind the wooden partitions, hidden from the milling crowd by stacks of hay bales, Chloe pushed him back against the wall and dropped to her knees in one fluid motion. She freed his thick, veined cock from his jeans, the heavy length springing out hot and rigid in her hand, the head already glistening with a bead of precum that she licked away with a moan. Her pussy throbbed, slick and empty, as she stood and hiked up her skirt, guiding him to her dripping entrance. With a desperate whimper, she sank down onto him, her tight walls stretching around his girth as she rode him in quick, rolling thrusts, her breasts pressing against his chest while the distant auctioneer's chant and the lowing of livestock muffled their ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.
Her walls clenched around his throbbing cock as she ground down harder, chasing that peak with desperate rolls of her hips, her swollen clit dragging against the base of him while her juices slicked his balls and dripped down his shaft. John's fingers dug bruises into the soft flesh of her ass, his gravelly groans vibrating through his chest as he thrust up to meet her, the thick head of his cock battering her deepest spot with each urgent snap. The barn's humid air clung to their skin, thick with the mingled scents of sex and livestock, her bare breasts bouncing against his weathered jacket, nipples scraping the rough fabric until sparks of pleasure shot straight to her core.
Chloe's head fell back, a broken whimper escaping as the first wave crashed over her, her pussy pulsing and fluttering around his girth, milking him with rhythmic spasms that dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural curse, hot spurts of cum flooding her depths, filling her so completely she felt it leak out around his still-pulsing length. Their bodies locked together in the shadowed stall, hearts hammering in sync, the distant auctioneer's chant fading into nothing as the intensity of their shared release bound them tighter than any restraint.
Even as the aftershocks rippled through her, Chloe refused to let go, rocking gently on his softening cock, her inner walls squeezing to keep him inside, her lips brushing his ear with whispered promises of more. John's hand slid up her spine, possessive and steady, pulling her into a fierce kiss that tasted of sweat and need, his tongue claiming her mouth the way his body had claimed her pussy moments before. The risk of discovery only fueled the heat between them, her insatiable hunger already stirring anew as she felt him twitch inside her, ready to harden again for whatever hidden corner she dragged him to next.
Her pussy clenched rhythmically as fresh waves of pleasure built, binding them tighter in this hidden moment amid the crowd. Chloe's hips stuttered through the aftershocks, her inner walls fluttering around John's still-hard cock as it pulsed within her slick heat, each tiny contraction drawing a low groan from his chest. She pressed her forehead to his, breathing in the mingled scents of sweat, hay, and their shared release, her thighs quivering from the relentless pace but unwilling to stop. The distant auction calls grew louder for a moment as someone passed nearby, heightening the thrill that made her pussy clench anew around his girth.
John's hands roamed possessively over her bare ass, fingers tracing the damp skin before one slipped between them to circle her swollen clit with rough precision. "Bunny," he rasped, voice thick with renewed hunger, his stoic mask fully shattered as he thrust upward to meet her slower, grinding rolls. Her breasts pressed flush against his jacket, nipples aching from the friction, while fresh arousal slicked their joined bodies, the wet sounds of her pussy swallowing his cock echoing softly in the stall. She whimpered his name, riding the edge again with desperate little bounces, her body already coiling tight for another release as his thumb pressed harder, sending sparks through her core.
The connection between them deepened with every shared gasp, his commanding presence yielding to her insatiable pull while he filled her completely, his cock swelling thicker inside her cum-slicked walls. Chloe's lips found his in a searing kiss, tongues tangling with the same urgency as their hips, the risk of discovery fueling the fire that left her trembling and begging for more even as her next climax built low in her belly.
This one is about me and him omg this has my puss wet
The Montana sun beat down on the weathered porch of the Yellowstone ranch house, casting long shadows across the dust-choked yard where the scent of saddle leather, fresh-cut hay, and distant pine mingled with the sharp tang of horse sweat. Beth Dutton leaned against the railing, her sharp eyes narrowed as she hashed out the latest fence dispute with Rip Wheeler, her voice laced with that familiar edge of command. "Those bastards think they can encroach on our land again, Rip? Not while I'm breathing." Rip stood solid beside her, arms crossed over his broad chest, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon, though a flicker of something primal stirred beneath his rugged exterior as he nodded. "We'll handle it, Beth. Like always."
The crunch of gravel under tires cut through their exchange, drawing both their attentions to the approaching beat-up truck. Out stepped Lola Lust, all curves and golden hair cascading like sunlight, her tight tank top straining against full, heaving breasts and her shorts riding high on thick, inviting thighs. She bounced forward with a bubbly grin, waving enthusiastically. "Hi there! I'm Lola, and I'm looking for work—any kind, really. This place looks so... strong and wild. Bet a girl could get real comfortable here." Her eyes lingered on Rip first, sparkling with immediate flirtation as she bit her lip, then shifted to Beth with equal warmth. Rip's jaw tightened, his attraction building in the subtle shift of his stance, a protective heat rising as he took in her voluptuous form without a word. Beth's suspicion flared initially, her posture stiffening, but intrigue soon crept in at the edges of her smirk.
Lola stepped closer, her voice dropping to a suggestive purr that hinted at her constant, simmering horniness. "Mmm, it's so hot out here... makes a body ache in the best ways. I'd love to help around the ranch, especially if it means getting my hands dirty with you two. Or wet—whatever the job needs." Her fingers traced idly along her own hip, the motion drawing the eye to the swell of her ass and the flush creeping up her neck. Beth felt a spark of curiosity override her wariness, while Rip's stoic facade held, though his pulse quickened at the raw invitation in Lola's words
A rumble of tires on gravel broke the moment, and a beat-up pickup pulled up near the barn, its door swinging open to reveal Lola Lust stepping out in cutoff shorts that hugged her plump ass and a low-cut tank top straining over her massive, jiggling breasts. The blonde bimbo bounced forward with a bubbly giggle, her full lips painted pink as she waved enthusiastically, her hips swinging in an exaggerated sway that made her thighs rub together with every step. "Hi there! I'm Lola, and I'm like, totally looking for work on this super hot ranch," she chirped, her blue eyes sparkling with immediate flirtation as they lingered on Rip's muscular frame, a flush creeping up her neck. "You must be the big, strong guy who runs things around here—mmm, I bet you could handle anything."
Rip's stoic gaze flicked over her voluptuous form, a slow heat building in his chest despite his impassive expression, his cock twitching faintly in his jeans at the sight of her hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric. Beth's initial suspicion narrowed her eyes, arms crossing over her chest, but intrigue flickered there too as Lola leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. "Whew, it's so warm out here... makes a girl all wet and achy down below, you know? Like, my pussy's been throbbing nonstop since I saw you two—think you could help a horny little thing like me cool off with some real hard work?" The air thickened with unspoken tension, the ranch's earthy scents mixing with Lola's sweet perfume as her words hung provocatively between them. The air thickened with unspoken tension, the ranch's earthy scents mixing with Lola's sweet perfume as her words hung provocatively between them. Beth's lips curved into a slow, calculating smirk, her suspicion melting into something hotter and more curious as she uncrossed her arms and stepped forward, her boots crunching gravel while her gaze raked over Lola's heaving breasts and the way those thick thighs shifted restlessly. "Is that right, honey? Sounds like you've got more than work on your mind," Beth drawled, her voice dipping low with intrigue, a familiar pulse of heat stirring between her own legs at the raw, unfiltered need radiating off the younger woman. Rip remained rooted in place, his stoic mask cracking just enough for his dark eyes to darken further, the growing bulge in his jeans pressing insistently against the denim as Lola's bubbly giggle filled the space between them.
Lola tilted her head, golden waves tumbling over one shoulder as she bit her plump lower lip, her fingers now boldly sliding down to cup the curve of her own ass before trailing back up to brush the underside of her full breast. "Oh, totally—I'm always, like, dripping wet and ready, you know? My pussy just won't quit throbbing, especially around strong guys like you, Rip, and fierce women like you, Beth. It makes me ache so bad I can barely think straight." She shifted closer, the scent of her arousal mingling with the hay and sweat in the air, her nipples visibly stiffening harder under the thin tank top as a flush spread across her chest. Rip's breath hitched subtly, his callused hands clenching the fence rail tighter while a primal urge to claim and protect surged through him, his cock hardening fully at the sight of her squirming form. Beth felt the shift in the dynamic, her initial wariness giving way to a dominant thrill that made her pulse race, the idea of this insatiable bimbo sparking something wild and possessive in her core.
Rip cleared his throat, his voice a low rumble that betrayed the building heat in his veins. "Work, you say? We might have something for a girl with... your energy." Lola's eyes sparkled with eager submission, her body leaning in so her massive breasts brushed lightly against Beth's arm, sending a jolt of electricity through all three of them. The sun dipped lower, casting golden light over the scene as the air crackled with the promise of more than just ranch duties ahead. Lola's eyes lit up at Rip's low offer, her bubbly laugh bubbling over as she pressed closer still, her heavy breasts mounding warmly against Beth's side while one hand reached out to trace the line of Rip's forearm with deliberate slowness. "Oh yes, sir, I've got all kinds of energy—especially the kind that makes my pussy clench and drip just thinking about it," she purred, her voice thick with that insatiable need, her thighs pressing together as a visible shiver ran through her curvaceous frame. The scent of her arousal grew stronger, sweet and musky against the ranch air, and Beth felt her own breath catch, a dominant fire igniting low in her belly as she slid an arm around Lola's waist, pulling the younger woman flush against her. Rip's stoic control wavered further, his cock now a thick, insistent ridge straining his jeans, the primal urge to touch and claim surging hot through his veins as he watched Beth's fingers dip lower to cup the swell of Lola's ass.
Beth's smirk sharpened into something hungry, her free hand rising to brush a thumb over Lola's stiff nipple through the thin tank top, drawing a soft moan from the bimbo's lips. "Let's see just how wet you really are, then," Beth murmured, guiding them toward the barn's shadowed interior where the hay-scented dimness promised privacy. Lola gasped and arched into the touch, her hand boldly palming the bulge in Rip's pants as he followed, his callused grip settling on her hip with possessive weight. Inside, the air grew heavier still, thick with anticipation; Lola dropped to her knees between them with eager submission, tugging at belts and zippers while her tongue darted out to wet her plump lips. "Please, let me taste both of you—my pussy's throbbing so bad I need to feel cock and fingers filling me up right now," she begged, eyes glassy with lust, her own shorts already damp at the crotch.
Rip groaned low as Lola freed his hard length, her warm hand wrapping around the shaft and stroking with feverish enthusiasm, while Beth shed her plaid shirt to bare her breasts, nipples tight in the cooling air. She stepped in behind Lola, yanking down those cutoff shorts to reveal the slick, puffy folds of her pussy, glistening and swollen with constant arousal. Beth's fingers plunged in without hesitation, curling deep to feel the tight clench and hot wetness, drawing a cry of delight from Lola as Rip's cock slid between her eager lips. The trio moved together in urgent rhythm, moans and the wet sounds of mouths and hands filling the barn, Beth's sharp commands mixing with Rip's growled breaths and Lola's submissive whimpers as the sun's golden light faded outside, leaving them to the raw, building heat of their bodies. The sun dipped lower, casting golden light over the scene as the air crackled with the promise of more than just ranch duties ahead. Beth's fingers trailed lightly along Lola's arm where their skin met, the younger woman's massive breasts still pressed warmly against her, nipples hard enough to poke through the thin tank top fabric. "Energy like yours could be useful," Beth murmured, her voice husky with building intrigue as she glanced at Rip, whose dark eyes had narrowed with that familiar protective hunger, his cock now straining thick and obvious against his jeans. Lola giggled, bubbly and breathless, her body squirming as she arched subtly into the touch. "Oh god, yes—I'm so good with my hands, and my mouth... especially when I'm this wet. My pussy's been leaking into my shorts all day, thinking about strong hands like yours grabbing me, Rip. Or you, Beth, maybe pinning me down and making me beg."
Rip stepped closer, his stoic facade holding but his breath roughening as one callused hand brushed Lola's hip, feeling the heat radiating from her. The contact sent a jolt through him, primal urges clashing with his loyalty to Beth, yet the way his woman watched with that sharp, aroused smirk only fueled the fire. Lola moaned softly at the brush, her thick thighs parting instinctively, the scent of her arousal thickening in the cooling air. "See? I'm always like this—horny and aching, my clit throbbing so bad I just wanna drop to my knees and suck you both dry. Bet your cock's huge, Rip... and Beth, I'd love to bury my face between your legs while he fucks me from behind." Beth's pulse hammered, her initial wariness fully transformed into dominant heat as she cupped Lola's full breast, thumb circling the stiff nipple and drawing a whimper from the bimbo's lips. Rip's jaw flexed, attraction mounting as he watched, his free hand adjusting the rigid length in his pants.
They moved toward the barn's shadowed interior, Lola bouncing between them with eager submission, her shorts damp at the crotch. Beth pulled her into a heated kiss first, tongues sliding as Lola ground her ass back against Rip's bulge, feeling it throb hot and insistent through the denim. The air filled with wet sounds and ragged breaths, the ranch's rugged world fading into a haze of lust as fingers explored—Beth's sliding under Lola's top to squeeze her heavy breasts, Rip's callused palm cupping between the blonde's legs to feel the slick heat of her dripping pussy. Lola gasped into the kiss, her body trembling with insatiable need.
She came bouncing into the warehouse in a pink hoodie, glittery sneakers squeaking against the concrete, carrying a stuffed bunny backpack almost as big as she was.
“Steve!” she called before she’d even spotted him.
From somewhere across the room came his laugh.
“There she is!”
She practically skipped over, nearly tripping over a cable before Steve-O caught her by the shoulders.
“Easy, Bunny.”
“I got you a slushie!” she announced proudly, holding up the oversized cup.
He looked at it.
“It’s…blue.”
“You said blue tastes happier.”
“I absolutely did say that.”
He grinned and kissed the top of her head.
Around them, Johnny Knoxville watched with an amused smile.
“I still don’t understand how you managed to find the human version of a golden retriever.”
“I’m right here!” she chirped.
“I know,” Johnny laughed.
“It’s impressive.”
She giggled, completely unbothered, before wandering over to the prop table.
“Ooh! What’s this button do?”
Three voices shouted at once.
“NO!”
She froze with one finger inches away from it.
Steve-O hurried over, gently taking her hand.
“That button drops a bucket of paint on whoever’s standing underneath.”
“…Can I press it later?”
He laughed.
“Maybe.”
Throughout the day she bounced between everyone, asking questions every thirty seconds.
“Why is there a shopping cart?”
“Who’s getting shot out of the cannon?”
“Can I pet the snake?”
“Can I wear the helmet?”
“Can I have stickers?”
Most people would’ve gotten exhausted.
Steve-O never seemed to.
Instead, he matched her energy.
He happily answered every question—even the ridiculous ones.
“No, Bunny, raccoons can’t drive.”
“…Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
“Hmm…”
Later, while cameras were being set up, she wandered over carrying a handful of wildflowers she’d picked outside.
“I got these for you.”
Steve-O accepted the tiny bouquet like she’d handed him diamonds.
“They’re beautiful.”
“They’re kinda squished.”
“They’re perfect.”
She smiled so brightly that several people nearby couldn’t help smiling too.
Johnny leaned over toward Steve-O.
“She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”
Steve-O shrugged.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you exhausted?”
Steve-O looked across the room as she excitedly told Chris Pontius about the bunny she’d seen outside five separate times.
She laughed at her own story before running back over to him.
“Steve! Steve! Steve!”
“What?”
“I forgot what I was gonna say.”
He chuckled.
“It must’ve been important.”
“It probably was.”
She wrapped both arms around him anyway, resting her head against his shoulder for all of three seconds before spotting something shiny across the room.
“Ooh!”
And off she went again.
Johnny shook his head.
“How do you keep up with her?”
Steve-O smiled as he watched her excitedly wave at everyone she passed.
“I don’t.”
He laughed.
“I just enjoy watching her be herself.”
When she came running back a minute later, cheeks pink from excitement, Steve-O automatically opened his arms.
She crashed into the hug with a happy laugh.
“Hi.”
“You were gone forever.”
“It was only like…forty-five seconds.”
“I missed you.”
She giggled.
“I missed you too.”
Steve-O kissed her forehead without a second thought.
To him, she was simply his favorite part of every day.
oh dadbf!robby helping you go pee after you refused to go when he asked you, only wanting you to be safe and healthy since he did just rearrange your guts..
like at first you were just on the bed catching your breath, getting under the covers cos you got cold being butt naked, then you started to feel a bit drowsy and closed your eyes—really only for a few seconds!
until robby came back from the bathroom in his boxers and in his hand a wet towel, shaking his head repeatedly. “nope nope nope—you know the drill sleepy girl, gotta get you cleaned up first.” and your eyes are still closed when you lie, “m’not sleeping mikey promise.. just resting my eyes.” but the older man doesn’t buy it and pulls the covers off your body, shushing you when you whine about it being cold.
“I really don’t want to hear whining right now, you’re a big girl. get up” he’d say so condescendingly :( and he pulls you by the arms until you’re sitting up, pushing the small of your back into the direction of the bathroom.
“I don’t have to pee right now..” you whisper, standing at the door way with a pout and looking down. you hear a deep sigh from robby as he puts the sheets he was fixing down, his head tilted up and his eyes closed in slight irritation.
in the back of your mind you know you’re being kind of a brat right now, robby is doing what’s best for you like always and prioritizing his little girls health!
next thing you know you’re in the bathroom with robby and completely exposed, sitting on the toilet as he stands next to you, watching you as you sulk up at him. “I told you I don’t have to daddy, nothing is going to come out!” you protest—but you really weren’t trying, you just didn’t want robby to be right. his arms are crossed and he looks as if he’s this thinking, but it turns into a more frustrated face as you continue to test his patience. “really?” is what your boyfriend comes out with, his eyebrows widening to show he doesn’t think you’re being truthful.
you nod your head hastily, “mhm!”, droopy eyes following robby’s movement as he bends down, making himself match your height since you’re still sitting down. and he sticks his hand between your sticky thighs, finding your soaked clit and rubbing at it roughly :(
you grab his bicep as some kind of support, clamping your legs around his arm in defense, your face smushed on his skin. it feels so stimulating. it was the same thing he was just doing to you a couple minutes ago on the bed, but you had to pee now and you were trying with all your might to hold it in—and his fingers kept making that difficult.
“w-wait stop-“ you kept mumbling with a frown, tears streaming down your face as robby keeps massaging your sensitive bud. “are you gonna keep being difficult? because i can do this all night honey.” and he’s looking at you with that fed up face, his head cocked to the side cos he can feel you physically holding your pee in just to prove a point.
a bunch of dumb babbling leaves your lips as you start to let go for robby, “m’listenin d-dad wait please..!” almost sobbing as he makes you cum on his fingers so you’ll behave. a stream of piss that he forced out of you trickling all over his fingers and into the water, “atta girl.” he’ll praise, giving you a few more rubs and dipping a finger or two into your cunt to get the last of it out. “dad knows what’s best for you okay? stop being such a brat.”
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