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a/n: this grew a mind of itâs own and yeahâŚ.thatâs it really i have nothing to say tbh
tags/warnings: mdni!!!, infidelity, jack abbot is NOT a wife guy, use of âjackieâ and âkiddoâ, HUGEEEE age gap (but itâs legal), trash talking, implied future cuckqueaning + voyeurism(?), pinv (wrap it before you tap it), riding
jack abbot considered himself, by all accounts, a good man. he was a lovely neighbour, husband and friend.
so when jack kissed his wife over the kitchen counter, muttering to her about how heâs spending the day âhelping the kid next doorâ fix her terrible air conditioning problem?
she didnât bat an eye. instead, she shouted out over her shoulder about bringing the mail in once heâs done.
and he did fix your little air conditioning problem!
he just took you riding his cock in your living room as payment.
âgod, she doesnât even put out like this anymore,â jack breathes out, his hips thrusting up to meet your bounces. âfucking tight, college pussy waiting for meââ
his eyes squeeze shut as heâs cut off by a moan, head falling to the back of the couch. his hands hover awkwardly around your waist â the s
âhnng, jackie,â you whimper, your hands falling to meet his chest. ââs too much for me.â
jack opens his eyes at the sound of your voice, and heâs greeted with the most beautiful sight.
you.
your jaw slack as you bounce tirelessly up and down on his cock, tits bouncing in his face as you drew pleasure from him, your face contorting in that tell-tale sign he knows all too well.
âi know, baby, i know,â jack coos, brushing a damp piece of hair from your forehead, before pinning it behind your ear. âjackieâs sooo big for you, but you donât want him fucking someone else, do you?â
he bites back a smile at your very insistent nod.
âjackie was saving his cum for you, did you know that?â
âreally?â you sniffle, eyes searching his.
âreally,â jack hums, thrusting up harder now.
you collapse into his chest, his arms stabilising you as he continues to drive his cock deeper into your pussy, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. he buries his face into your face, sighing when he smells the scent he told you to use - before placing a tender kiss to your temple.
âdidnât fuck my wife because i wanted to fuck you, kiddo. lied to her,â jack starts, his voice muffled by your hair. âmaybe one day i let her watch, huh?â
as soon as those words leave jackâs mouth, you let out an involuntary moan, pussy clenching around his cock. grinding your hips desperately against him, you tighten the hold you have on his chest.
âwould she touch?â you whine, burying your head deeper into his neck.
he lets out a low grunt, string of curses as he feels you fuck yourself back onto him. âmy girl would like that? sheâd like jackieâs wife watching them fuck? good idea kiddo, maybe sheâd learn how to take dick from a pro.â
you nod frantically before he hooks two fingers gently under your chin, forcing to meet his fucked out gaze.
âwhatever jackieâs girl wants, is what she gets.â
currently obsessed with the idea of hyperfem!ditzy!reader x pope <3
like youâre all short skirts & platform flip flops & big earrings & glossy lips and heâs⌠well⌠pope!
youâre closer in age to j then you are to pope, which is precisely why pope is so nervous to leave you alone with him. but thereâs never a reason to worry, the second popeâs truck pulls up, youâre stopping your conversation with j and squealing excitedly.
hopping over to his truck, a happy âhi andrew!!â rolling off of your tongue as you skip to his side and stand on the step bar by his window. leaning up and giving a dramatic smooch âmwah! hi baby, i missed you!â as you gaze up at him. heâs smiling, one hand scratching at the top of your head as you talk about your day. âyeah pup? thasâ good. missed you too. câmon, hop in. lemme take you to dinner.â
smiling really widely and going over to the passengers side, throwing open the door and hopping in. one more big kiss to pope, your long nails framing his cheeks, and youâre turning back to j with a smile. âbye j! see you later :)â
totally genuine, totally sweet. totally juxtaposed when you turn to pope, still bright & cheery, âbaby, can we listen to slayer?â
Pope never lets his girl go without, he always has the prettiest little (and I mean little) bikini sets for her. Putting them on her bed so sheâll see them and blushing all pretty when she comes out.Â
But honestly, his favorite is the pyjama sets she gets. The ones with teeny pink bows or flowers or bunnies. Softer than soft, 100% Pima Cotton, lace trims. She looks so gentle and undeniably feminine that he doesnât even know what to do. Just wraps his arms around her waist when he pulls her onto his lap. Heâs almost shy, which⌠Pope Cody is never shy. But the way he hides his face in her neck, breathing in her nice perfume, itâs like he canât make eye contact.Â
At first, you think itâs about him wanting to take them off of you, but thatâs not it. He just loves seeing his princess so pretty and soft. The way princesses are supposed to be, yâknow?
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the sweetest, kindest, and most gentle girl you know hanging out at the cody's house waiting for her boyfriend pope to return home safely from a big job đЎ
tw: fauxcest, dubcon, mean jack, pussy spanking, connotations for anal, papa/daddy kink, implied big hefty age gap !
thinking about aged up, much older jack, with barely any traces of reds and browns left in his hair and stubble âĄ. . . he's telling you you're gross for calling him 'papa'. . . you answering back, "well, you're gross for flirting back with someone young enough to be your granddaughter!" you accused, jutting your chin up.
"the fucking mouth on you." jack roughly manhandled you, positioning you easily over his lap. you squeaked in surprise. you bit back a giggle, imagining the countless of possibilities of what's he going to do to you next. bad idea.
jack clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your attire. "is this what young girls are wearing nowadays? why do you even bother wearing anything at all?" he didn't even need to flip your micro skirt up to see your ass. didn't need to push the gusset of your sheer so-called string of an underwear away to see you already dripping all over the couch. you basically presented yourself to him.
"little fucking thing." jack observed quietly mostly to himself when he started rubbing his thumb along the lacy covered slit. "juicy pussy. . . she's drooling, baby. does that mean she's happy to see me?" he said it in a sickly sweet tone you wanted to smack him because you're so embarrassed. "i should keep you here to myself, hm? wouldn't want anyone knowing my granddaughter is a gross disgusting girl."
god, he's so nasty. "papa, you're being so cruel to me." your whimpers turned into loud groans of pain when jack started to spank your pussy in quick successions. "oh yeah? and whose fault is that? you're being a bad girl right now so i'm treating you how bad girls should be treated. you're going to cum just like this. . . if i'm feeling merciful i might give you my finger up. . . here." probing at your rim. âĄ
đ i don't think this needed to be said but my readers in all of my writings are legal adults with fully developed frontal lobes !
i was inspired by the recent shawnyhats appearance like omg. i'm diving in the snow grandada
Jack does noooot like the young ho movementđđđ. âbut thatâs mean to say. youâre not a ho. youâre a smart, confident young ladyâ omg yawninggggg watch me bounce these titties bro
interested in how you think pope would be like initiating make up sex, or even break up sex? in the mood for a little more angst i guess!
18+ minors do not interact !!
âi canât do this anymore!â you exclaim from your spot on the bed, clutching the comforter to your chest as you watch pope walk around the room, getting ready to leave with his brothers on a job.
he rolls his eyesâitâs always the same shit with you. worried about his safety, worried if heâs going to come home, make it in time for dinner. âitâs going to be fine, this should be a pretty easy lift, just a bank.â
you sniffle, a wave of frustration and sadness flowing through your body as you stand up, ânoâno iâm serious, andrew. iâm done. iâm not doing this anymore. feeling sick to my stomach every time you leaveâworried that youâll even come home. i canât do it!â
watching you stand there, hair all messy from sleep, naked body under the blanket, he takes a deep breathârealizing he needs to calm you down before he leaves. with outstretched hands he approaches you, âbabyâitâs alright. iâll be back, please donât cry.â
n you step back, head held confidently, âno. if you go, i wonât be here when you get back.â pope freezes for a second, in all your arguments like this, youâve never said something like that. he keeps walking towards youâsettling his hands on each side of your face, wiping your tears. slowly n softly, he nudges you, making you step backâthe back of your knees hitting the bed, laying you down.
âpopeââ you warn as he unfolds the blanket from your body, ignoring you. breathing picking up, he takes in your body, how fucking perfect you are, how fucking his. with you sprawled out on the bed, he lifts up, unbuttoning his jeansâtaking out his fat cock.
your body runs hot, unable to control the way your pussy responds to seeing him like this, âandrew! are you listening to me?â wordlessly he leans down, chest to chest as he kisses down your neck, rubbing his cock against your folds. you moan, arching your backâyou canât help it.
he hums, sliding into you easily, âyou wonât leaveâyouâll stay right here in bed n wait for me like the good little doll you are.â you whimper, feeling so full as he fucks you slowly, pumping in and out.
âcanât leave me. feel the way i fit perfectly into this pussy? sheâd miss meââ he fucks you faster, leaving you a mess under him, bed creaking with every thrust.
âsay it. say you wonât leave me.â he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together, makes you look at him as you nod, mumbling, âw-wonât leaveââ
he releases you harshly, picking up your legs to throw over his shoulders, grunting, âgood.â
(I really do love seeing Filipino representation on the Pitt though. Theyâre not there just for comic relief or as a stereotype, theyâre fully human and respected right alongside everyone else.)
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jack abbot x younger!reader âËęŠď˝Ą 18+ MDNI !
summary: abbotâs hand shouldâve never ended up between your thighsâbecause now youâre both trying to pretend it meant nothing, and neither of you is getting very far. [can be read as a standalone, but it's a loose pt 2 of this fic]
warnings: smut! car sex, panties being ripped, abbot yearns to the point of concern because he's down BAD for reader, reader cheats at beer pong & UNO because she can, a lil bit of angst but they fuck nasty so it's ok! thumb sucking, a lil bit of drooling, BITING, age gap implied, bad decisions being made, creampie (dont be like them), sexual tension, reader can't decide what she wants so abbot natrually fucks the decision into her á°.á
wc: 7.9k
Abbot was certain you were avoiding him. It was the only explanation that made any kind of sense. Itâd be impressive if it werenât so annoying, the way you kept managing to be somewhere else the second he came into view. Turning corners like youâd just remembered something urgent, suddenly very invested in literally any patient that wasnât his.Â
He could stop it. Heâs your superior, he could just tell you to assist him with a patient, heâd even take the scraps of your attention if it was just to discuss something medical. All heâd have to do is say your name in that tone and youâd come over, all professional and tight around the edges, and help him like youâre supposed to.Â
He doesnât, though.
Which is its own kind of pathetic.
Because apparently the possibility of you looking at him like heâs something youâd rather not touch is enough to keep him quiet. Enough to have him standing there, fully aware of whatâs happening, and letting it happen anyway.
He knows why youâre doing it. Thereâs no mystery there, no confusion or theories he could hide behind. He crossed a line. A very clear, very avoidable line, and he crossed it like he wasnât thinking.Â
His hand shouldâve never ended up between your thighs.Â
For a lot of reasons. One, because heâs had the temptation for months and somehow managed to keep it under control until now, which makes this feel less like a mistake and more like a failure of character. And two, because he knewâknewâit was never going to be a one-off for him, no matter what the two of you said at the time.
Youâre not the kind of girl who should settle for something casual, and heâs too damn old to be the kind of man who makes you come and sends you on your way, like thatâs all there is to it. Heâd want to make you breakfast, take you out to dinner, make space for you. Literally. A drawer at the very least.Â
Which, when he actually thinks about it, is a problem in itself.
The whole thing was a bad idea from the start.
And judging by the way youâve been treating him since, youâve come to your own conclusion about it. Pretend it didnât happen, and hope it quietly dies if you starve it of attention.Â
And it pains him that you seem to be doing that so effortlessly.Â
Because he canât get away from it. Not at work, especially not at home, not even in the stupid in between moments where his brain should be empty for once.Â
His kitchen, for example, is now completely unusable in any normal, mentally stable way. Even when heâs making his coffee, all he can seem to hear are the breaths and whimpers of you coming on his fingers, and not at all the beans being ground.
His shower is something else entirely. He canât even wash in peace anymore, which feels like a new low. All it takes is one stray thought and heâs right back there, stuck on you admitting that you touched yourself in there.Â
He canât even pretend these thoughts are occasional either. Theyâre constant. Always there. Even when he tries his hardest to drown them out. Which, again, is not ideal, given his job requires a baseline level of focus he is currently failing to maintain.
âEarth to Abbot. What do you want to do?â Shen asks, eyebrows raised, elbows and gown smeared with blood. âYouâve just completely dissociated on me, man.â
Abbot blinks. âRight,â he clears his throat. âOkayâno, weâre not happy with that. Suction.â
Shen passes it without comment, though thereâs a look there. Curiosity? Mild concern?Â
âBP?â Abbot asks.
âEighty-five systolic and dropping.â
He exhales through his nose, refocusing. âWeâve still got a slow bleed somewhere. Pack that for a secondâno, properly, youâre not putting enough pressure on it. There.â He adjusts Shenâs hand without thinking. âHold it like you mean it.â
Abbot was getting increasingly irritated as the night dragged on.Â
Usually that irritation worked in his favour, making him quicker and more precise, less tolerant of mistakes, including his own. It was useful.Â
Not tonight though.Â
Tonight that irritation sat under his skin, and refused to morph into anything productive. He wasnât doing anything wrong, but nothing felt right either. And on top of that, there was an endless stream of patients, the usual rotation of problems that should be routine by now, but somehow tonight they felt entirely foreign. His hands didnât even feel like they were attached to him properly.Â
And his thoughts, all they seemed to do was circle back to you.Â
The worst part of it all was that you were the one who said it was a one-off, implying you could both return to some sense of normalcy after that night, but you were doing everything that made him feel the opposite.
âCome get me if anything changes,â he says, voice clipped enough that Diaz doesnât even try to say anything back, just nods like he knows better.Â
His gown comes off in a rough pull, fabric sticking slightly before it gives, not even close to white anymore. Gloves go next, snapped off quick, dropped wherever.
He doesnât even really think about where heâs going until he spots you. Your backâs turned, which means you havenât had the chance to clock him and disappear yet. Thereâs a second where he considers leaving it. Just walking the other way. But heâs never really been particularly good at making sensible decisions when it comes to you.Â
âYou got a sec?â he calls out.Â
You turn, distracted at first, and then do a double take when it clicks that, yes, heâs actually talking to you. âMe?â you ask, pointing at yourself. âSurgery has already been paged twice for my patient in bay one.â
He almost sighs at that. Not because itâs wrong, but because of course itâs something thatâs already spiralled into multiple specialties and escalating calls and everyone pretending theyâre not responsible for it.
âYeah,â he says anyway, stepping closer before he can overthink it, then lowers his voice. âNot about that.â
âRight,â you drag out slowly, like youâre trying to decide whether thatâs better or worse.Â
A trolley clatters somewhere behind you, someone swears, an alarm rings before itâs quickly switched off. The department keeps on moving like it always does, indifferent to anything happening between the two of you.Â
Abbot looks down the corridor, exhales through his nose and looks back at you. âJustâfive minutes. Somewhere that isnât here.â
You nod, fingers drifting up without thinking, fidgeting with a necklace tucked under your scrubs. Youâre wearing a yellow undershirt today. He tries not to think about that too much.
âBathroom?âÂ
You nod again. âYeah, okay. Lead the way.â
He does just that, hoping you donât vanish the second he turns his back to you.
You donât.
That alone feels like a small victory.Â
He pushes the door open, holds it long enough for you to slip in first, then follows after you, turning the lock.Â
Suddenly it feels a lot more intimate than Abbot intended, especially considering what happened the last time the two of you were left to your own devices. Youâre leaning against the sink and counter, thighs shifting slightly from the pressure of it, filling out your scrubs in a way that makes his mouth go dry for a second before he can stop it.
He drags his eyes back up to your face, hand scratching at his stubble. âYouâve been avoiding me.â Itâs meant to sound like an accusation, but it doesnât land as one. Instead it sounds like something heâs been holding in his mouth too long, wrong shaped and stripped of any pride.Â
âIânot intentionally. Itâs just been a busy week.â
âPlease donât lie to me.â
You break eye contact, hand falling from your necklace as you let out a small sigh.Â
âOkay,â you admit eventually, softer. âMaybe I have been.â
âWhy?â
âYou know why.â
He nods, swallowing. âDo you regret what happened that night?â he asks and you still canât quite meet his gaze.Â
You bite the inside of your cheek.Â
âDo you?â he presses, a little quicker now, like if he doesnât keep moving the question forward itâll get stuck in him. âBecause thatâs the only reason I can think of you going out of your way to avoid me. We canât even act professional at work?â
âI have been professional,â you argue reflexively.Â
âAre you going to answer my first question?â
He watches your face like he can find the answer there before you say it, like heâs already halfway convinced heâs not going to like it but needs you to say it anyway.
âBecause if you do,â he adds reluctantly, âthen I need to know. So I can stop making it worse for you.â
âOf course I donât regret it,â you answer like itâs the most obvious thing and he feels his chest loosen. âWe said itâd be a one-off and Iâm just trying to find the best way to work around that.â
âAnd you think this is the best solution?â
âObviously not if youâre cornering me in the bathroom.â
Itâs meant to be a joke but neither of you laugh.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says immediately. âI crossed a line that night and I shouldnât have done it and itâs completely my fault for even putting us in this position, Iââ
âDonât do that,â you cut him off and he raises his brow at the interruption. âDonât make this out to be something itâs not. It wasnât just you that crossed a line, I did too, more than you. Please stop making it sound like something I was forced into.â You pause, taking in a breath, wiping your palms on your thighs. âI donât regret what happened. The only regret I have is that it clearly canât happen again. And I'm sorry that Iâve been avoiding you. It's obviously not working in the way I intended.â
Clearly canât happen again.
Youâre not wrong. Youâre not. It canât happen, there are actual rules about this, policies written in language so dry it makes your eyes glaze over but still very real, still very much enforceable, and it would completely jeopardise your future if anyone got wind of the two of you. Whether it turned into something serious or stayed exactly what it was that night in his kitchen two weeks ago, it wouldnât matter. It would still be a problem. A big one.
He knows that. Of course he knows that.
Yet his brain doesnât quiteâŚstop there. Doesnât neatly file it under sensible and move on like it should. Instead it lingers on the wording, on the way you said it.
Canât.
Not donât want to. Not even shouldnât.
Your only regret is that you canât do it again.Â
Which might actually make him go clinically insane. Manic. Deranged. Because itâs clear now, isnât itâthe both of you want this, but canât have it without consequences that would only land on you.Â
âYeahâŚyouâre right.â Is all he manages at first, then scratches the back of his neck, and when he looks back up youâre actually meeting his gaze and holding it properly. Longer than you have in the past two weeks. âCan we find a way to move past it without you ignoring me?â
Your face warps slightly, an immediate telltale thing you do when youâre trying to bite back a smile.
âWhat is it?â he asks, narrowing his eyes.Â
You shake your head. âNothing.â
âYouâre laughing at me.â
You shrug. âIf Iâd known giving you the silent treatment was this effective, I wouldâve enforced it months ago.â
âGood to see youâre back to making jokes at my expense again.â
âClearly you missed it.â
Thereâs silence again, and if heâs serious about getting the two of you back to something resembling normal, heâs going to have to stop doing thatâletting every word you say lodge somewhere in his head and sit there, overanalysed to death. Because he did miss it, and he needs to stop acting soâŚweird about it.Â
âMaybe.â
You smile at him, pushing yourself off the sink. âYou going to Ellisâs housewarming this weekend?â
âWasnât planning to.â
âWhy not?â
He pulls a face, turning towards the door. âNot really my thing.â
âWell why donât you come,â you press lightly, âwe could hang. Be normal about things.â
His head tilts a fraction, like heâs checking he heard you right and also like heâs trying not to read into it at the same time. âHang?âÂ
âYes. Hang. Thatâs what friends slash work colleagues do. Hang out socially with other people.â
He nods, fingers finding the lock. âIâll try and stop by.âÂ
Even as he says it, thereâs still a brief sliver of doubt, because itâs probably not wise, but then again, what could possibly go wrong this time? What line could the two of you cross in a house full of people, full of noise and movement, nowhere private, nowhere for anything to accidentally tip into something else?
When Saturday finally came, Abbot didnât really get a chance to second-guess going because Shen was already outside his place, leaning on the horn like he couldnât cope with even a second of silence. Which would make sense if they were running late. They werenâtâŚShen just got the time wrong.Â
Ellis didnât seem to mind when the two of them turned up an hour before everyone else was meant to arrive though, not with how quickly she put both men to work helping her set up.
In fact, when people did start showing up, it sort of worked in Abbotâs favour. He could stay long enough for you to see heâd made an appearance, then slip out early with a perfectly reasonable excuse of being there early and helping set up.Â
Itâs a win-win, all thanks to Shenâs poor time management for once lining up in his favour.Â
Heâs halfway through nursing a lukewarm beer thatâs gone as flat as a puncture by the time you show up, a large basket balanced in your hands.
Everyone else had brought the usual, bottles and more bottles, nothing you have to think about too hard. But from where Abbotâs standing your basket was filled to the brim with actual things youâd need when moving into a new place. Blanket, food, cleaning supplies, probably an overpriced scented candle nestled somewhere in there.Â
Heâs not surprised. Youâre always showing up over-prepared for even the smallest of things. He takes another sip of the beer and quickly regrets it, eyes drifting back to you before he can stop them.
You donât notice him straight away, too busy unpacking the basket and explaining everything you brought to Ellis. She looks genuinely grateful, keeps nodding along, but about halfway through she cuts you off, takes the basket from you and dumps it on the counter, then grabs your wrist and drags you towards the drinks like sheâs saving you from yourself.
And he justâŚwatches.Â
Not in a weird way. He tells himself that at record speed. He just canât seem to help the habit thatâs formed of tracking you in every room.Â
Ellis pours you a glass of whatever Shenâs attempted to pass off as sangria, watching you take a sip, face scrunching up almost immediately.Â
He huffs quietly to himself, shifting his weight, fully aware of how this must look from the outside. Him standing off to the side, completely blanking Robby whoâs right there, still talking, mouth moving, hands doing something vaguely animated, and Abbot hasnât caught a single word of it. Not one.Â
âWe donât sleep with the residents, man.âÂ
Abbot does a double take, like heâs been caught mid-thought and dragged back too fast. âWhat?â
Robby doesnât even look at him, just tips his beer in your direction. âYouâre practically fucking her with your eyes and she hasnât even put her bag down.â
He scoffs, taking a sip of beer to buy him some time.Â
âIâve already got Gloria breathing down my neck about budgets and patient satisfaction,â Robby goes on, âI donât need her adding fraternisation to the list.â
âNothingâs happening.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
âShame,â Robby adds, almost idly. âBecause if this is you not doing anything, Iâd hate to see what it looks like when you actually are.â
âWhat, now youâre encouraging me?âÂ
Robby snorts, shaking his head. âNo. Iâm just sayingâif there is anything happening, keep it the hell out of the ER.â
âThereâs nothing going on, man. You can drop it,â he mutters, knocking back the rest of his beer as he spots you walking over, unsure whether thatâs the best decision with what Robbyâs currently insinuating.Â
âOkay, well, I donât need to be privy to this conversation,â Robby sighs, noticing you heading their way. âIâd like some plausible deniability.â
Robby gives you a quick nod as you pass him, then veers off towards Dana without another word, leaving Abbot standing there with absolutely nothing to hide behind, nowhere to look except you.Â
Youâre wearing a sundress again.Â
And his brain justâŚmalfunctions for a second. Thereâs a slight lag when his eyes fixate on the way the material sits against your hips, the neckline lower, the hem shorter than the one heâs seen you in before. Itâs stupid how quickly he notices it, how it registers before he can even think to stop it.
This is exactly what Robby was talking about, and heâs stood here proving him right, fully incapable of acting like a normal person for five seconds when youâre in front of him.
âEllis said you helped set up,â you say, coming up beside him. âThat was nice of you.â
âDidnât really have a choice, she had us working the second we stepped through the front door. Didnât even get a tour or anything.â
âIs that why you decided to give everyone alcohol poisoning with the sangria?â
Abbot laughs, setting his drink down on the fireplace. âThat was all Shen.â
Thereâs a stench of silence and it makes him realise how bad the two of you are now at this whole normalcy thing. There never used to be silences like this, not ones that felt like either person was thinking about something else. The obvious elephant in the room, even to Robby apparently.
âWeâre setting up a round of beer pong,â Shen announces, appearing out of nowhere with a red cup filled to the brim with his sangria. âNext round is me and Ellis against you twoââ he points between you and Abbot. âBe there or be square.â
Abbot glances at the cup, then back at Shen. âHow about you be sober since youâre my ride?â
âYou can just catch a ride with Robby,â Shen shrugs. âHe drove.â
He shakes his head because he knew this would happen. Shen is the least reliable method of transport known to man. Abbotâs half surprised he even makes it to his shifts on time.
âYou playing?â you ask, glancing between him and Shen.
âI wasnât planning on it.â
Shen groans. âYouâre both playing. Iâve already decided.â
Abbot has come to realise that youâre actually really good at beer pong. Whether thatâs down to your aim or just sheer desperation to avoid drinking whatever the hell Shenâs made, heâs not entirely sure. Either way, the two of you are winning.
Which should be what heâs focusing on.
It isnât.
Because you keep leaning forward to line up your shots, bending over the table, one hand braced against the edge, the other hovering with the ball, squinting like itâs a matter of life or death. And itâs endearing how focused you get, how your tongue presses against your teeth, how you donât even seem aware of anything else when youâre aiming.
And heâs meant to be watching the cups. The game. Literally anything else.Â
Instead his eyes keep catching on the same things. The way the hem of your dress shifts when you bend, the brief flash of skin at the back of your thighs when you straighten and then lean again, the way your legs move when you step forward to grab the ball.Â
He drags his gaze back to the table just as you release the ball. It arcs cleanly and drops straight into one of Shenâs cups with a splash.Â
âNo fucking way,â Shen scoffs. âWe need to step our game up.â He nudges Ellis like sheâs personally responsible.
âYou need to step your game up,â she shoots back, grabbing the cup. âIâve been carrying you this whole time.â
Abbot can feel eyes burning into the side of his head. He turns enough to see Robby watching him with a smirk, shaking his head, as though Abbotâs hitting every milestone on a very predictable recovery plan, like a patient progressing exactly as expected. Which is irritating, because Abbot is not, in fact, improving.
He rolls his eyes at him and turns back to face you. âNice shot.â
âYeah?â You glance over at him, mouth tipping at the corner. âYou sure you saw it? You seem a little distracted.â
âDistracted? No, not at all,â he manages, which makes him sound like he was, indeed, distracted.Â
You donât comment though, just take a small step back so youâre beside him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you watch Ellis down the drink with visible regret before sheâs reaches for another ball.Â
âJesus,â you mumble under your breath. âSheâs going to hate us in the morning.â
âI already hate you,â she calls back, giving herself a dramatic shake like that might undo the damage. Ellis aims her ball like sheâs about to shoot, but Abbot sees you stepping to the side.Â
âEl, your footâs over the line,â you call out, all sweet and helpful.
She freezes mid-aim. âWhat?â
âYour foot,â you repeat, pointing vaguely. âYouâre fully cheating.â
âI am notââ Ellis glances down, shifting her stance to check.
The second she looks away from the cups, you go still beside him, lips pressing together like youâre trying not to laugh.
âI was about toââ Ellis snaps, readjusting, rushing it now. She throws the ball too quickly. It hits the rim and bounces straight off the table.
âYouâre full of shit,â Abbot mutters, just to you, eyes still on the table. âHer foot was not over the line.â
âIâm driving tonight.â You shrug, giving him a smile. âA girlâs got to do what she has to do.â
Ellis and Shen argue in front of you two, voices overlapping, something about angles, and you rushed me and you distracted me.Â
Abbot scoffs, looking at you. âI donât think Iâve ever seen anyone cheat at beer pong.â
âItâs okay to say youâre impressed. I wonât tell anyone.â
âI prefer to win fairly.â
âOh yeah,â you hum tauntingly. âI forgot youâre such a rule stickler. Always doing the right thing. Never crossing any lines.â
âOuch,â he clicks his tongue. âYou always get like this when youâre caught cheating at frat boy games?â
âLike what?â
He tilts his head, crossing his arms as he studies you. âI think thereâs a vein of rage popping on your forehead.â
âYeah? Nice of you to notice instead of trying to look up my dress all evening.â You give him a bratty smile, grabbing a ball and pressing it to his chest.Â
âThere she is,â Abbot hums, satisfied, because this version of you is exactly what he was waiting for. With this version thereâs no awkward push to get back to normal, no weird pauses where it feels like one of you should say something just to prove everythingâs fine. This is easier. You push, he pushes back. You get sharp, he gets worse.
Youâre too nice at work. Too polite. Too put together, all neat edges and carefully chosen words and that calm voice you use with patients that makes everything sound under control even when itâs not. And he likes that, he does, but thisâŚthis is better. This is you slipping a little, dropping it, letting him see the part that doesnât behave, doesnât follow the rules you keep going on about.Â
âYour turn,â you say, pressing the ball into his chest again. âTry not to miss.â
He takes it from you, hand covering yours before the ball settles in his grip. âLots of attitude for someone who needed to cheat two minutes ago.â
âI didnât need to,â you correct promptly, following him as he steps up to the table. âI just wanted to.â
âRight. That definitely makes it better.âÂ
âMy eyes are up here,â you remind him, tapping two fingers from your chest up to your face.
He wasnât actually gawking this time, but thatâs a weak defence considering every other time he has been, so he doesnât bother arguing with you.
âWouldnât want you getting distracted and making us lose.â
Several hours later, youâre pulling into Abbotâs driveway, the solar lights along the path flicking on like theyâve been waiting for him specifically. The engine idles for a second before you switch it off.Â
âThere you go.â
He unclips his seatbelt, keeping a hold of it as it slides back into the mechanism, his thumb pressing into the fabric. âThanks,â he says, glancing at you. âYou didnât have to.â
âWell it wouldâve been rude not to. Shenâs asleep on Ellisâs kitchen floor and Robby disappeared without saying goodbye.â
âYeah. Hope Ellis doesnât trip over him in the morning.â
It was meant to be quick. In and out. Show face, have a drink and leave early. But the opposite of that ended up happening, the majority of the night crew sticking around longer than the day shift. Now itâs later than he planned, and youâre here, in his driveway, with neither of you moving.
He should get out.
But youâre genuinely smiling at him, and heâs not sure he has the willpower to leave.Â
âYou had fun,â he notes, quieter than before.
âI did,â you confirm blithely. âYou?â
âMm.â He nods once, like thatâs enough of an answer. He glances down without meaning to, tracking the line of your milkmaid neckline where it dips as you move in your seat, and thatâs when he catches it.Â
A black card with a white outline peeking above the fabric. Something that looks suspiciously like one of the UNO cards Whitaker had insisted everyone play with. A game you somehow won three times in a row.Â
He huffs out a breath, not sure whether to be amused or surprised that youâd go that far to win a cards game meant for eight year olds. âYouâre unbelievable.â
 âWhat?â
âYouâre absolutely unbelievable,â he laughs dryly, turning towards you in the passenger seat. âYou cheated.â
You raise your brows, and he watches you physically fight the grin trying to break through. âAt beer pong?â
âYes, that too.â he replies, narrowing his eyes. âDonât play dumb.â
âI donât quite know what you mean.â
He gestures vaguely towards you, unsure how to phrase it without sounding insane. âYouâve got a card tucked in yourââ he cuts himself off, dragging a hand over his jaw. âYou know what I mean.â
âBra?â you supply for him.
âYes.â
âFunny, I don't seem to be wearing one.â
âJesus Christ you need to stop doing that,â he hisses, words coming out harsher than he intends. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point, thereâs no way youâre not aware of what youâre saying, what that does to him, how it lands and then just sits there in his head, repeating, expanding, getting worse the more he tries to ignore it.
Because now thatâs all he can think about, not the card, not the game, not anything remotely normal, just that. The fact you said it so casually, like itâs nothing, like it doesnât drag his attention right back down again, like he hasnât already had to physically pull his eyes back up to your face several times tonight.
âYouâre accusing me of hiding cards in a piece of clothing Iâm not wearing.â
âI saw it. Donât try and twist it.â
âIâm not twisting anything,â you reply, but thereâs that look again that tells him you know exactly what youâre doing to him. And, frankly, it's cruel.Â
âYou cheated,â he repeats, leaning in. âEveryone thinks youâre all nice and polite andââ he lets out a short, disbelieving breath, shaking his head. âYouâre a cheater. A serial cheater.â
Your brows lift, but instead of being offended, thereâs something else there, something that almost looks like interest. You undo your seatbelt, tilting your head. âYeah? What else?â
âYouâre manipulative.â
âWhat are you going to do? Pull my dress down and check?â
âIs that what you want?â
âI donât think thatâs a normal activity friends slash work colleagues doââ
âYou know damn well nothingâs been normal between us since that night. Youâre the one who said it was a one-off,â he goes on, because itâs been sitting there waiting to come out. âBut then you look at me like this and say things like that and expect me to justâwhat, ignore it?â
Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip and his hand tightens where itâs resting against his leg, fingers pressing into his own palm. âI didnât say ignore it.â
âThen what did you say?â
âThat it couldnât happen again.â
âRight. And this is you⌠sticking to that?â
You donât answer him, but youâre breathing has picked up.Â
âYeah,â he mutters to himself. âThought so.â
And then he just moves, like a car running every red light. His hand comes up, fingers firm at your jaw as he pulls you in, rougher than he means to be. The kiss lands messily, noses knocking, teeth catching because neither of you slow down enough to make it neat. It starts all wrong, rushed and badly aimed, with no patience from either of you to do it properly.
Thereâs a moment where he registers what heâs doing, where his brain catches up enough to go this is a bad idea, but then youâre kissing him back, deepening it, and that thought doesnât stand a chance.Â
He exhales against your mouth, thumb pressing into your jaw as he pulls you closer, like the extra inch matters, and it does, because the angle changes and your mouths fit better this time.Â
âCome here,â he murmurs, one hand sliding from your jaw to your neck while the other drops to your waist as he shifts, pulling you towards him. You let him, moving over the console, the whole thing awkward and uncoordinated, things getting knocked in the process, your knee bumping into him, his elbow catching against the door.
He makes a frustrated sound when you finally settle into his lap, like the movement wasnât fast enough, like even now heâs impatient, still pulling you closer once youâre there, his cock aching for friction.Â
âStill think this is a one-off?â he mumbles, words uneven, breaking between kisses as they drop from your mouth to your jaw, then lower.
Your fingers bunch in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it up, chasing the heat of his skin. You pull it over his head, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as his dig into your hips.
âYouâre not very good at sticking to your own rules,â he adds, leaning in to press another wet kiss beneath your jaw. He sucks at the delicate skin before swiping his tongue over it to soothe.Â
âWeâwe bothââ you start, breath catching when his hand comes to palm your breast, ââagreed itâd be a one off.â
âNu-uh,â he tuts. âYou said youâd be able to move past it. I told you I couldnât.â His fingers hook into your dress, tugging it down, the off-the-shoulder sleeves giving just enough for the fabric to slip, exposing your chest to him.
Heâs imagined you like this more times than heâd ever admit, and heâs almost surprised he even registers the small cascade of UNO cards slipping free. The cards hit him, light taps against his stomach before theyâre sliding down between the both of you.Â
âYouâre fucking joking.âÂ
You just shrug, like itâs nothing, like youâre not currently straddling him with evidence of your cheating scattered in his lap. You shift to reposition yourself, and he feels it immediately, his cock aching to be inside of you.
âUnbelievable.â His hand lifts, coming up to your chest, fingers closing around your nipple as he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, his eyes dragging over you, taking you in like he doesnât know where to look first, like he wants all of it at once. âYou cheat, you lie, and then you justâwhatâsit here like this?â
You tip your head back at the feeling, and he follows, bringing his mouth closer, tongue swiping over the nub as he watches you through his lashes.
âYou donât seem that upset,â you slur, hand digging into his shoulder as you roll your hips against him.
âBaby, with the view I have right now, I donât think Iâd notice if someone dropped dead in front of me.â
A soft sound slips out of you, half laugh, half moan, and it only makes his jeans tighten. He swears under his breath, pressing his forehead against your shoulder like that might help. He needs to control himself. He has to. Heâs already finished in his pants prematurely like some horny teenager once before, and he really doesnât fancy doing it again unless itâs inside you.
âNeed your jeans off,â you mumble, hands reaching for his waistband, fingers deftly working the buttons.Â
âYeah? Think we might struggle in here.â
You shake your head, lifting yourself, balancing on your knees, the absence hitting him, a brief void he feels but doesnât dwell on, not when your hands are right there, working each button open one by one.
Without warning, your hand dips under the denim, and Abbot inhales sharply as you palm him through his boxers.
âHuh,â you breathe, a smug edge to it, and he already knows what youâre about to say, can feel it in the way his precum has soaked through the fabric. âHave you been this worked up the whole night?â
He lets out a strained laugh because heâs been caught out and doesnât have the energy or focus to deny it. His head tips back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut before he looks back at you.Â
âAnswer the question,â you press, your hand slipping underneath his boxers. Thereâs not much room for you to move, but the second your hand wraps around his cock, his breathing turns frantic, his hands digging harder into your hips.
âYeah,â he grunts. âBeen like this since you walked in.â
Your brows lift, impressed, like you werenât expecting him to actually say it. âGood.âÂ
You lean in to kiss him, and he tries his best to reciprocate, but all he manages are sloppy pants because your hand is still doing its best to pump him and he canât concentrate.
âHelp me out,â you murmur, biting his lip as you pull away. Your hands move to the waistband at his hips as you tug, and Abbot pushes himself up, giving you just enough space to drag his jeans and boxers down halfway to his thighs.
Your hand grips him properly now, sliding up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the tip. Your mouth parts as you do it, like youâre getting drunk on the sight of it, on getting him off. He finds himself thinkingâbriefly, unhelpfullyâabout what it would feel like to have your mouth on him instead. Whether youâd look the same. Whether youâd get that same faraway, intent expression.
But thereâs no space for that in your cramped car.
And heâd rather feel your pussy swallowing his cock instead.Â
His hand closes around your wrist, stopping your ministrations in one decisive move. âWait,â he says, though he doesnât actually give you time to respond.
Because then his mouth is on you instead.
Your dress is already pushed up, bunched carelessly at your waist, and his hands follow without needing to think about it, sliding underneath the fabric, mapping their way upward along your thighs with a familiarity that feelsâŚearned.
He finds what heâs looking for.
Hooks his fingers into it.
Then pulls.
It gives immediately, the rip louder than it should be in the enclosed space.Â
âAbbot!â you gasp. âWhat the hell?â
âThey were in my way. Sorry, baby.â
You blink at him, still catching up. âThey were expensive.â
âIâll get you new ones.â
âHow am I meant to drive home?â
Thatâapparentlyâis the wrong question.
He pulls back to look at you, and then he scoffs, quiet and disbelieving, like youâve said something so wildly off-base it doesnât even deserve a serious response.
âDrive home?â he repeats.
Thereâs a beat.
âYou think you get to just leave?â The question isnât really a question. âNot a chance.â His thumb finds your clit, applying light, deliberate pressure. His mouth follows, pressing a tender kiss to your neck. âYouâre spending the night,â he murmurs against your skin. âIâve got plenty of boxers.â
Another kiss. Slower this time.
âOr,â he adds, like heâs genuinely considering alternatives, âyou can walk around without anything at all.â His thumb circles your clit again. âI donât mind.â
You wither against him, your body registering the touch before your brain has had a chance to catch up. âJack,â you start, but it falls apart halfway through, the rest of it never quite assembling into anything usable.
He hums delicately against your neck, like heâs listening, like he might even care.
He doesnât stop, his thumb moving in an achingly slow rhythm. âYouâre thinking too much.â
âMânotââ
âYou are.â
You shake your head anyway and he doesnât accept that. His free hand comes up to your face, settling at your jaw, thumb just beneath your cheekbone. Not rough but not optional either. âLook at me.â
You do. A little slower than usual. A little softer around the edges. Like youâre already halfway gone somewhere else and heâs pulling you back just enough to see it.
âYou are,â he repeats, nodding once like that settles it. As though itâs something observable, not arguable. His thumb picks up the pace and he watches the moment it lands. The way your expression shifts around it. The delay. The way your focus slips, then tries to come back.
Interesting.Â
Thereâs something almost clinical in the way he tracks it, the small details, the cause and effect. Detached, if it werenât for the fact that his own breathing has started to change, slower but heavier, like heâs not as removed from it as heâd maybe prefer to be.
âThat feel good?â
You nod.Â
âSee?â he says, voice dropping. His other thumb drags slowly across your lips, catching on the slight part of them. He stops there, just for a second, feeling the warmth of your breath, the softness of it, like heâs deciding something.
âStop arguing with me.â
Thereâs a pause.
Then he presses his thumb into your mouth.
He feels the moment you take it, the way your lips close around it, the faint pressure of your teeth as you bite down.
âSit up for me, baby.â He reluctantly pulls his hand away from your warmth, only for it to settle on your hip instead, guiding you up gently. You meet him halfway, lifting yourself and grabbing him again, both of you glancing down as you line him up.
You press the head of his cock against your clit, rocking yourself against it.Â
âJesus,â he bites out, his thumb slipping out from your mouth with a thin string of drool stretching between. âSlowlyâgo slow.â
You nod, as you ease down, taking him in bit by bit.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, sharp enough to make him suck in a breath, and for a second he thinks about telling you to keep going until you draw blood but heâs not sure thatâs wise in your dazed state.Â
âFuck,â you grit, stopping yourself before youâre even halfway down him.
âToo much?â
âMhm.â
âSâokay,â he slurs, focusing on your puffy clit again, drawing slow circles, helping you take all of him. âYou can do it.â
His grip tightens at your hip, thumb pressing in harder as he watches you, completely locked in, like if he looks away for even a second he might miss something important. The way your face pinches. The way your breathing shifts.Â
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, softer now, coaxing more than anything. âYouâve got it.â He watches every inch of it, the slow give, the way your body takes him, the hesitation that never quite turns into stopping.
âYeah⌠there you go.â
Youâve bottomed out now, all of him deep inside you, gripping him so tight heâs not even sure how much longer he can last, and you havenât even started moving yet. He goes still, in an attempt to chase composure.
âDonâtââ he starts when he feels you shift, then stops, jaw tightening as he recalibrates. âJustâstay there a second.â
His forehead dips forward, almost brushing yours, his eyes half-lidded as he tries to steady himself through it.
âTell me when,â you whisper.Â
That nearly undoes him more than anything else.
Thereâs something about the way you say it. Gentle. Willing. Like youâre handing the control back to him without even thinking about it. Trusting him with it.Â
He leans in for a kiss, and itâs slower than the ones before. Thought-out. Intentional. All that earlier hunger still there, but pulled tight beneath the surface now, tempered by the fact that heâs already inside you.
It changes things.
Makes it heavier.
He presses in deeper, tongue sliding against yours, and you let out a broken whimper into his mouth. âGo ahead,â he says, pulling back enough to take in the way youâre looking at him now.Â
You lift your hips, then lower yourself again, and he can feel the way your body adjusts around himâyour walls clinging to his cock as you start to find a pace that works for you.Â
Abbot searches for your hips, guiding you, pushing you down onto him when you reach the base again, the curls there brushing against your clit.Â
Your eyes are screwed shut and he takes this time to watch you shamelessly, The sheen of sweat starting to gather along your forehead, the way your breath hitches every time he pushes you down just a bit further.
Itâs fucking euphoric.Â
You keep moving, whiningâhalf-words, curses, his name slipping in and outâas you pick up the pace, losing whatever rhythm you started with in favour of something needier.
âSuch a greedy girl,â he mutters, watching the way a slick ring of wetness gathers and drags along his cock as you bounce up and down, your cunt squeezing him so tight heâs grasping at straws to make sure you finish before him.
His thumb finds that sweet spot, making you go limp against him, your forehead sprawling against his shoulder.
âYesâkeep doing that,â you mewl, and heâs the kind of man who follows orders, even when heâs not sure heâs got anything left to give.
Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and it pulls a husked sound out of him.
âYeah? Thatâs what you do?â His hips meet yours, as he plunges in and out of you, feeling your thighs tighten and shake around him. âDidnât take you for a biter,â he mocks, but thereâs no surprise in it, in fact he sounds pleased.Â
You say something incoherent back and he just laughs. âGo on,â he encourages, tilting his head to the side to give you better access. âIf youâre going to do it, donât halfââ
He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale when you do, the pressure of it shutting him up completely.
âChristââ
âMâclose, Jackâso close.â
His head drops again, eyes finding you like he needs to see it, needs to confirm itâs actually happening and not something heâs made up to torture himself with later. âYou like that? Thatâs what gets you going?â
âYesâfuck, yes.âÂ
Abbot feels you tense around him, your movements losing whatever shape they had, turning messy as the two of you dissolve into nothing but a tangle of limbs and half-formed sentences. Fragments of words, sounds that donât even belong to language anymore.
You come undone with a cry, muffled against his skin thatâs probably raw and marked now, something heâll notice later. Your whole body tightens, then gives, your grip on him turning desperate while it rushes through you.Â
It hardly takes Abbot a minute before he follows, the sight of youâlike this, because of himâpushing him past whatever control he thought he still had. His hips jerk with a force that pulls a string of curses from him that are grunted into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as he thrusts into you one last time.
Thereâs no other sound for a few minutes, other than the two of you trying to catch your breath. Abbot can hear your heartbeat where youâre pressed against him, feel his own still thudding hard in his chest.
He leans back, resting his head against the seat, eyes closing.
âFuck, Iâm so sorry.â
His eyes open immediately at that because you sound horrified, like somethingâs gone wrong, and his stomach drops at the off chance youâre regretting all of this already.
âWhat?â he starts, already bracing for the worst.Â
He then follows your line of sight, your gaze fixed on his shoulder and immediately relaxes. â...That?â he asks, glancing back at you.Â
You wince, reaching up like youâre not sure whether to touch it or not. âI didnât mean toâI justââ
âHeyâitâs fine.â
You look unconvinced.
âItâs not fine, IâJack, I think I actually made you bleedââ
âI know. I was there.â
That earns him an embarrassed huff. âI didnât even realise I was doing it.â
âI did,â he replies smugly. âDidnât hate it either.â
Thereâs a pause as you study him, like youâre trying to figure out if heâs serious or just trying to make you feel better. â...Youâre weird.â
âYeah, says the one who was doing all the chomping.â
Your mouth drops open. âOkay. Iâm leaving.â You pull your dress back up over your chest and try to shift up, since heâs still inside you, but Abbotâs hands clamp around your hips, holding you in place.
âNot a chance. I already told you youâre spending the night.â
You catch the inside of your cheek between your teeth. âDo you think thatâs wise?â
âProbably not,â he admits. âBut Iâm still not changing my mind.â He leans in, placing a kiss on your shoulder. âPlus youâre not exactly in a state to go anywhere.â
âI could,â you mutter.
He raises a brow.
ââŚI could try.â
He shakes his head, an amused exhale leaving him âStay. Just for tonight. Weâll figure the rest out tomorrow.â
Your body sags against him, the fight easing out of you as your fingers brush lightly over the his raw skin. âJust for tonight,â you repeat.
Though neither of you can really pretend this is just a one-off anymore.
oh to have a stressful day at work & come home to jack making you nap <3
throwing your heavy bag by the door, you pout as you take in the comfortability of your shared home. lower back aching, feet sore from standing & eyes pulling shut with exhaustion, itâs a relief to see a freshly awoken jack. heâs getting ready for his shift, tying his scrub pants with his toothbrush in his mouth when he hears you trudge up the steps. âhey babyâ he casually drawls, brushing his teeth and almost not paying attention. almost.
he notices you donât answer, and is greeted by the sight of you face down in your shared bed instead. youâre slipping quickly as you pout, âhi daddy, missed you.â âmissed me?â âyeahâ âyeah? you know daddy loves you? hm?â
you nod sleepily, eyes falling shut when he brings his hand up to scratch at your hair. âtake a nap for me, honeyâ âoh no jackie i canât, i have so much to d-â âwasnât asking baby, câmon, doctorâs ordersâ lifting you up by your armpits, unclasping your bra and sliding off your work clothes until youâre in nothing but a pair of panties.
jack pulls the comforter over you with a soft kiss to your forehead, âgo tâsleep baby, iâll come give you a kiss before i leave. kay?â
falling asleep to the sound of jack getting ready, the steady comfort of knowing heâs there </3
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and if i said icky!disgusting!perv!robby who lives in a trailer park and spends his time lounging on his couch, drinking beer and occasionally, smoking weed.
and youâre the cute girl next door whoâs just moved in, the one who, despite being told to stay away from mean old grumpy robby, you knock on his door anyway. he grumbles when he opens it but stops when he sees you. youâre sweet, bubbly and so soft. he takes a liking to youâespecially when you affectionately call him mister robby. after that, you spend most of your nights in his trailer, chewing gum while youâre sat next to him on his couch, babbling on about some stupid boy who likes you but youâre 100% not interested.
one night you come over to his place and he happily invites you in, before he stops you and grumbles this isnât about some other stupid boy is it? and you huff out a laugh, place your hand on his chest, before saying not this time, just need your help with something mikey, the sweet lilt in your voice going straight to his dick.
you brush past him to sit on his couch and tap it for him to come join you, which he happily obliges. he tilts his head at you when he sits down, watching your face drop slightlyâwhich makes him worried. how could his sweet girl be upset about anything? how could he have let his sweet girl get upset?
âok.. i lied.â
âabout what?â
âthis is about a boy.. but uhm.. itâs also not..â
âokay?â
âi donât know how to kiss.. i was wonderinâ if you could teach me?â
robby canât believe his fucking luck. all those times heâs spent laying on his couch after youâve gone back home, his hand fisting his cock as he mutters out your name. many, many times heâs pictured you bouncing on his cock, your hands on his stomach as you giggle on top of him. and now here you are, sat on his couch, asking him to teach you how to kissâand heâd be a stupid ma to say no.
âoh, sweet girl.. of course i can..â
you squealed in delight, swinging your legs off the couch before settling down on his thigh, your hands grasping at his shoulders. his hands come up to cup your face, pulling you gently towards him, before he gently whispers close your eyes, honey and just follow my leadâwhich you nod in response, your eyes slowly fluttering closed. his lips were soon pressed against yours, his tongue parting your lips to slide in your mouth. you squeak out a gasp, opening your eyes wide before being lulled back into a daze as his hands move to settle on your hips, dragging you fully onto his lap. your eyes roll to the back of your head as your eyelids flutter closed, lazily kissing robby as he controls every movement. you absentmindedly grind your hips and feel the bulge in his pants twitch between your legs, so you pull off him for a second, saliva hanging between yours and his lips.
âa-are you hard, mister robby? from kissing me?â
âyeah, sweetheart.. i am, feels that good..â he breathes out, watching as you swallow thickly, eyes focused on the twitching in his pants as you grind over him. whining slightly, you look back into his eyes and speak quietly, nervousness overwhelming you for a second.
âcan i.. can i touch it, mister robby?â
âof course, could never deny my sweet girl when she wants something, hmm?â
âam i your sweet girl?â
âmmhm, âcourse you are..â
itâs then and there that robby decides to confess everything to you.
âbeen thinkinâ about you a lot, angel.. been thinkinâ about how good of a kisser youâd be, how soft your little hands would be as you stroked my cock, how your mouth would feel with your lips wrapped âround my cock.. and especially how that tight little pussy would feel all stuffed up with my cock..â
desperate to hear any jack thought you have <3 anything bouncing around in that pretty head of your bun <33
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hi my angel !! rn itâs horny hours so iâve been imagining jack before leaving for work, tugging you towards the end of the bed, spreading your legs wide open, pulling your little shorts to the side to show off your bare pussy. running his freckled hands n arms all over your sleepy body, taking his time, fingers running under your shorts to play with your soft pussy.
youâre all moaningâworried heâll be late but heâs just shushing you, focused on fucking two fingers into you, watching the way your back bows off the bed. âfuckâi canât leave you at home, baby. look at you.â
iâm meant to be his stay at home fuck doll n heâs meant to have a hard time leaving me every night!
seraphie âĄď¸â âš @seraphk1ss - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook