PARIS, TEXAS

you're shy. shy and unexperienced.

you're quiet. especially during sex. you don't moan loud, doesn't beg and doesn't whine and whimper. most jack can get out of you is a few sighs, hands gripping the sheets and teeth digging into her bottom lip or his shoulder.

she doesn't initiate sex. doesn't ask for what she wants — and not because she doesn't want it, but because she cannot mutter the words. but jack would always know, the way your cheeks would heat up, flushing pink all the way down to your neck and chest. he'd always cave and make sweet love to you, and he'd be especially thorough, always making sure to get you to cum.

but after a while, he grew tired of this. jack wanted everything. everything from you. every sound, every moan, every whimper. he wanted it all. it was his personal mission now: get you to lose your mind.

jack has you on your back, spread out on the middle of the bed. jack himself is on his stomach, between your thighs. and he's been bullying your cunt with his thick fingers, plunging them deep, dragging them out on your soft walls.

but not a single loud moan from your lips yet.

your pussy lips are puffy, swollen and red from the stimulation. jack doesn't let you cum just yet. he'll get you close enough, until you're clenching and writhing, then stop it all.

"aw, look at you, baby," he coos at your pussy, using both middle fingers of his other hand to spread your folds for his gaze.

"jack," you whisper, so desperate. by now, you're leaking all over his hand, the insides of your thighs all slick and messy.

"c'mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he says. but his resolved has changed now.

the thrusts in his fingers, deep and harsh, curling them just right against that spongey spot. you gasp, your hole clenching hard.

jack doesn't stop, bringing you to the orgasm quickly. your back arching off the bed as your thighs close around hir arm. "nu-uh, baby. keep 'em, open," he says.

"jackie, it's too much," you whine when he keeps drilling his fingers into your cunt. well, that's a first.

"i know, baby. i know. but you can give me another one, can't you?" he mocks, bringing his face down to give your clit a little lick. "just one, honey. yeah?"

you nod, and, oh, poor you.

your second orgasm builds up quickly, your pussy squeezing at his fingers. "c'mon, sweetheart. you can be a little louder for me, mhm?" he hums, watching your body squirm and writhe on the bed.

you shake your head, the idea of making noise making your heart beat so fast in panic. what if you sound weird? what if you're too loud? what if he doesn't like how you sound—

"i can see you overthinking," he says. "get outta your head alright, honey. you don't have to sound like a pornstar. i just wanna hear you, okay? just wanna hear my best girl. how good i'm making her feel."

"jackie," you whisper, pouting at him. the sheets beneath you grow a shade darker with your arousal that keeps dripping out of you.

"little louder, baby," he asks you.

you can't. it's like a physical weight on your neck, making it impossible. the words won't come out.

jack sighs, and for a moment you think he's disappointed. but no, he is determined. he will make you louder by the end of the night.

his lips seal around your clit, suckling at it, swirling his tongue around. he groans when your hand grips his hair. he keeps torturing your clit with his mouth, toying with it, and his fingers keep hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

that second orgasm leaves you reeling, your mind going fuzzy. you're starting to make some noise — a few mewls, whines, but not nearly what jack wants. he wants you loud. wants you to bed for what you want.

"you wanna be my good girl, don't you, honey," he mumbles, licking at your folds, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. you nod desperately from above and he smiles.

so he doesn't stop. you're sensitive, he knows that. your poor pussy must be feeling raw after two back-to-back orgasms he pulled out of you. too bad, he doesn't care. unless you tell him to stop — and you haven't —, he doesn't care.

"jackie, jackie, jackie—" you whimper, tears building up behind your eyes.

"there's my sweet girl," he chuckles against your cunt, the sound rumbling through you. "little louder, baby. i'm an old man, my hearing isn't what it used to be," he winks at you from between your legs. he's playing with you and you know it.

the familiar sensation of your orgasm building up is back, making you clench and squeeze at his fingers. jack groans at that, his hips bucking against the bed. he's humping the bed like teenager, and not the fifty year old man he is.

"jack, stop, stop," you say, swatting at his forehead. "i gotta… i…" you stammer, eyes rolling back.

"what?"

"it feels like-like… i gotta go pee," you say.

"mhm," he hums. pretends to think about it. "no," he says, diving back to lap at your weeping cunt in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

"what— jack!" you moan, and this one is loud, your back bowing off the bed in a pretty arch.

"that's okay, sweetheart," he says. "just this one more, okay? then we're done, honey. i promise," he kisses the insides of your thighs. every time his fingers thrust into you, your pussy squelches, wet and loud. "you have the prettiest cunt, you know that. the prettiest i've ever seen," he kisses your folds again.

"jack, no…" you cry out, desperate, because you're about to make a mess.

"it's okay, sweetheart. it's normal, yeah? it's just your body reacting. nothing to be ashamed of," he calms you down.

eventually, it's too strong to hold back. you sob, your thighs clenching around his head and you come.

his head was tilted up, groaning to the ceiling. his readers had gone out of alignment, it now sat on the pointiest tip of his nose. his hair unruly from your fingers roughly running across his scalp, and his face flushed and sweaty — he looked absolutely laughable like this. what would his peers or juniors think if they caught their very serious and very professional attending — helpless before a pretty young thing?

there was a large, creamy stain starting to form on jack’s dress pants, and it’s only getting bigger the longer you keep this up. 

“oh god. fuck– ff-fifty. i’m fifty.” he almost whined at the end of his response. 

“again.” you pressed. the roll of your hips getting faster and more desperate.

“i’m fifty. i’m fifty.” he held you firmly at the soft curve where your hips met your thighs, encouraging your movements. his breathing had become more ragged, his moans and groans getting much louder as he’s nearing his peak. 

you begged once more. “say it again, please. dad, please! i’m gonna cum if you tell me again. please. please! i’m gonna cum–” 

since you asked so nicely, looking so pretty as you did, jack leaned in close to the shell of your ear. the lightest touch of his lips and the gruffness of his voice made you shiver. 

“i’m fifty years old, babydoll. shouldn’t have any business playing around with your dad like this, hm? but you’re a nasty girl. when nasty girls feel achey here–” he pressed the pad of his thumb over your throbbing clit. “–they fuck themselves on their dads’ cock.”

“aahh!” you shrieked at the top of your lungs, the walls of your cunt intensely pulsated around his fat length. 

“shit! i’m gonna cum. i’m not wearing a condom – baby, baby i gotta pull out!” he tried to maneuver himself so he could take himself out before he shot his load in you. 

but you kept yourself buried deep, using your position to your advantage. 

“babydoll–” jack warned you. “get up, young lady.”

“no!” 

he wriggled and squirmed beneath you. he should be able to overpower you but if he got up all of a sudden, he’s afraid he might push you down the floor or hurt you in any way. he just desired for you to gently pull out. 

“you asking to get spanked?!” 

he didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he’s very strict about using practising safe sex. it was already risky enough to let you warm his cock in the first place. he also didn’t want you to feel regret  — if something or someone did come to fruition. he didn’t want to put any pressure on you if you were unprepared to step into that chapter of your lives. 

“don’t care, daddy. jus’ wanna feel you cum inside me. i need it.” if that was not convincing enough for him, you took hold of his face in your hands to look him in the eyes. 

despite the sensitivity of your core, you started to slowly grind on his lap again, mercilessly not giving your lover any other choice. 

that made the dam burst, loads and loads of his spend was released in your sex. his cries were sharp, the loudest you’d ever heard from him. you noticed there were actual tears in his eyes, you carefully wiped them away with the tips of your fingers. 

“daddy? i reallyyy want a sister, but i don’t care that much at all, to be honest. a healthy sibling would be perfect.” ♡

UNPLANNED PIT(T) STOPS

airbnb rules

flight seat assignments leaked

claim your boarding pass

passport stamp reblogs

DRABBLES

— REBLOGS KEEP FANDOM ALIVE —

𖤓 fluff 𖦹 angst 𓇼 smut

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH

𓇼 WATERMELON SUGAR robby makes eating watermelon look indecently seductive, and you’re convinced he’s torturing you on purpose.

𖤓 HELIOPHILIA one flimsy bikini, twelve ignored sun lectures, and robby decides to turn preventative medicine into a hands-on experience

𖤓𖦹 PHTHONUS during a midnight swim, robby watches you laughing in the water with whitaker and realizes just how ugly his jealousy can get.

FRANK LANGDON

𓇼 THE PERFECT DEATH you and frank get caught having sex in the outdoor shower when a coworker comes looking for it after the beach

𖤓 HINDSIGHT 20/20 langdon discovers you wear glasses!

𖤓 STRINGS ATTACHED (SOMETIMES) during a beach volleyball match, a wardrobe malfunction forces frank into an awkward rescue

𖤓 SEE SOMETHING YOU LIKE? during a night out, frank gets cornered by your relentless flirting and finds himself giving in more than usual

𓇼 GUILTY PLEASURE you hook up with frank while his girlfriend is upstairs and the line between pleasure and guilt gets very blurry, very fast.

𖤓 GOOD AS NEW frank tries to impress you with a stolen rental scooter. it goes about as well as expected. at least he helps take care of the damage.

𖤓 BRACHYURA langdon discovers your weakness: being correct. you discover his: needing to argue with you about it

𖤓 MRS. LANGDON HAS A RING TO IT after a swim leaves your hair tangled, frank ends up helping you brush it in the bathroom.

𖤓 IF SELENE IS LISTENING frank coaxes an overtired tired, tipsy you into his lap and takes over the job of being your caretaker

JACK ABBOT

𖤓 DIAMOND CUT after your engagement ring causes a small injury, you seek comfort from your favorite doctor

𓇼 A VERY PUBLIC OFFERING you and jack finally get a second alone on vacation, so he bends you over the balcony and fucks you while everyone else drinks downstairs.

𖤓 HERODEON you set out to explore athens alone, only to end up with an uninvited travel companion

𖤓 PARASITIC you get caught in a sudden rainstorm with jack

𖤓 TIGER SHARKS you lose your bikini top and decide to use jack as a human shield

𖤓 ANDROMEDA the girls keep trying to set you up on vacation. that is, until they find the senior attending in your bed and realize why you keep shutting them down

𖤓 LITTLE MISS PRIM-AND-PROPER when the crew discovers your secret tramp stamp, jack accidentally reveals he knows far more about it than he should

𖤓 MERLOT ON GRAY COTTON when your suitcase gets lost on the way to greece, jack abbot lends you clothes to get by. between nosy coworkers, spilled wine, and jack's teasing, the situation becomes much harder to survive than it should be.

𖤓 MISSED OPPORTUNITIES you're oblivious; jack's permanently flirting. turns out all you needed was a nudge (and a kiss).

𖤓 SISTINE CHAPEL you are trying to read on the beach. jack abbot is nearby shirtless. this proves to be a problem.

𖤓 VACAY-YOU on vacation abbot realizes the version of you from the er isn't the only one that exists

bf!pope cody who... is a biter. he love the sensation and the way you react. he bites anything and everything. its gotten to the point where you've banned certain positions because he cant stop biting you. he doesn't even do it on purpose!! he just needed somewhere to rest his head... not his fault your shoulders were perfect for sinking his teeth into.

"pope!" you squeal, pushing him back lightly. his eyes rove over you, his blank expression unmoving on his face. "i thought we agreed no more biting."

he grumbles lowly before tucking his face back into the crook of your neck where he had it before you'd so rudely evicted him. "yeah. 'm sorry baby," he mumbles softly. his teeth graze against your skin as he continues, "cant help it." you huffed softly as you felt his teeth connect back with your skin.

"pope. quit it." he whines softly at the demand. cant let him get away with everything but you'd be lying to say you didnt like it

The air is warm from the candles you’ve lit, their soft glow filling the room, while the silk of your slip dress is cool against your skin. It skims your body when you move, soft and weightless. Your hair is loose, your feet bare against the floor, and for once you aren’t rushing anywhere, fixing anything, or trying to be anything other than exactly yourself.

You’d ordered in, something quick and easy and exactly what you knew Jack would want waiting for him: a large meaty pizza, steamy and spicy. It arrives with perfect timing, just minutes before you hear him come through the front door. 

With the cocktails poured, the pizza delivered, and low music humming softly from your vintage radio, all that’s left is for your man to join you.

You smile in anticipation as you listen to him drop his keys into the bowl on the side table in the foyer, before his distinctive heavy stride sounds down the hallway. 

He halts in the doorway to the kitchen when he sees you, still dressed in his SWAT uniform. He’s been gone all day. He’s probably thinking about a shower and food and getting out of those clothes.

You’re thinking about how unfairly good he looks in them.

There is something about seeing Jack like this that never gets old; the camo, the boots, the quiet confidence that comes with knowing exactly what he’s doing and exactly who he is.

“Hi, angel,” he looks you up and down as you lean against the the kitchen island. 

“Hi, Jack,” your eyelashes flutter, a deliberately innocent smile pulling at your lips. 

You peer at him from underneath your lashes, smile stretching into something that suggests a secret. Jack's own lips twitch up on one side, a smirk that suggests he knows your secret. 

Of course he does. Your weakness for him like this is the worst kept secret on earth, since you’ve never actually tried particularly hard to hide it. 

“What’s this?” He asks, his voice soft and rumbling, like he’s left the chaos of the outside world at the door and only has this quiet version of himself left for you.

The smell of warm, fresh pizza fills the house. It’s laid on the counter beside two cool, crystal martini glasses and looking indecently succulent. Jack ignores it, not yet having pulled his gaze from you. 

“I made dinner for you.” He finally approaches, wrapping an arm around your waist to greet you with a sweet kiss on the lips. 

“You made dinner?” He asks, leaning back to look at you with his eyebrows raised in amusement. The pizza is still in the box it arrived in from the pizzeria. 

“I made the cocktails,” you grin. You’ve never been much of a cook. But at parties, you’re the one making drinks like it’s second nature. It’s one of your greatest skills. 

One of the many things you appreciate about Jack is that there is no aversion there at all. The man could walk into a room in a tactical vest, having spent his day doing the kind of work most people couldn’t stomach, and still happily drink the fruitiest cocktail you put in front of him.

Which is why tonight’s choice feels almost novel. More mature. No bright colours, no fruit, no little umbrella. 

Just a classic martini. 

Clean, sharp, and garnished with a green olive. A drink with the same kind of reputation as the man standing beside you.

“I see that,” he picks the nearest one to him up and your eyes linger on the glass in his hand. “What’s the occasion?”

The delicate crystal catches the warm light, elegant and fragile between his fingers. They had been a birthday gift from him, because he knows your love of cocktails, of pretty things, of the small luxuries that make life feel a little indulgent. 

He tips it to his lips and you stare at the way his hand completely envelops the glass. 

The same hands that are used to fixing, carrying, saving. The same hands that look like they belong wrapped around something much sturdier than a crystal martini glass.

“Just… making the most of your night off,” you answer, still staring. You have all night with Jack, and then all day tomorrow lazing in bed with him before his next night shift at the hospital. 

He hums appreciatively after a sip, low and gravelled, and it fans the flames of your need for him. 

When he plucks the olive from the glass with those deft, roughened fingers and slips the salty garnish from the toothpick with his teeth, you find yourself biting the edge of your own glass, unable to pull your gaze away.

“Delicious,” he winks. He stands there, the hard lines of his uniform softened by the warm light of the room, as the weight of everything he carries is temporarily replaced by a drink you made for him.

“I wish everyone and no one could see you like this,” you confess quietly, your arms coming around to circle his waist after you'd abandoned your empty drink on the counter. 

The material of his camouflage quarter-zip is coarse beneath your skin. He’s not wearing the police vest, so there’s no hard bulkiness between you when you hug him, just the smell of sweat and the outside, with his own delicious musk underneath. 

“You hungry?” You ask as his big hands fall to your ass. 

“Mm-hm,” he hums, but he lifts you up rather than letting you go so that he can eat. Your hands move up his back and curl over his shoulders. 

“For me?” You ask coyly, your legs lifting to wrap around his waist. 

He squeezes your ass, and you feel the roughness of his belt buckle at the back of your bare thighs where the silk of your slip has bunched.  

“Always, angel,” he murmurs against your lips. You close the distance, keeping the peck quick because, despite every part of you wanting to linger, you can be patient enough to let him have dinner first.

“Eat, baby,” you card your fingers through delicate salt and pepper curls, “I can wait.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, his forearm sliding under the back of your thighs, his rough hand curling around your hip, so that he can hold you up with one arm while the other travels up your spine, “I can’t think of anything I want more than you right now.”

“Okay,” you whisper, resigned, watching the pizza get abandoned from over your beautiful martyr's shoulder as he carries you upstairs and towards the bedroom. 

Not that Jack would view it as suffering. You’re fairly certain he’s never looked less like a man making a sacrifice.

The bedroom is quieter than the rest of the house.

The candles don’t reach this far, the music fades into the background, and suddenly it’s just him and you and the ridiculous fact that you spent the entire evening pretending you weren’t waiting for this exact moment.

He settles you on the edge of the bed before pulling his sweatshirt off, the dark fitted T-shirt underneath doing absolutely nothing to make it easier for you to focus with the way it strains around his arms. Then he steps back between your knees, tipping your chin up gently until your eyes meet his.

“What do you want?” His voice is gentle, but there’s something firm underneath it. “Want me to be mean?” 

Even when he’s got that look in his eyes, even when he’s the version of Jack everyone else sees as impossible to rattle, he still takes the time to ask. The immediate shake of your head as you lift your hand to grasp gently at his wrist makes the corner of his mouth twitch.

“No?” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You so badly want him to kiss you. He must see it on your face because he leans down, tilting your chin up further to meet his lips.

You hum into his mouth and he pushes you back, still mostly dressed and leaning over you on the bed. Your elbows slide back to support you, hair falling over your shoulders as your head tilts back. One of his hands is still supporting your back while the other moves from your chin to the mattress beside you, bicep bulging as he puts more of his weight onto it.

“Look at you,” Jack murmurs. “All of this just for me?” He grinds down slightly, rough cargos meeting the thin lace of your panties.

“J-Jack,” you’re breathing stutters, the thick fabric doing nothing to hide what he’s pressed against you.

With one last, slightly forceful kiss against your lips, Jack pulls back, and the small whine that escapes you earns the faintest hint of a smile before you realise where he’s going.

He lowers you back against the crisp sheets, taking his time. His attention is fixed entirely on you as he trails soft kisses down your throat, your chest, over your silk-wrapped stomach. 

The tension you’ve been carrying all evening finally has somewhere to go, and you can’t help but think that maybe Jack has been just as patient as you have. 

He slides your panties down so gently, then widens your legs enough for his shoulders to fit between them. You feel his breath first, warm and wet, so close and yet not touching.

“Jack,” you breathe out, head falling to the mattress in frustration. He needs to touch you.

“Mhm,” he hums just as his mouth makes contact and your legs fall wider apart, fingers curling into the sheets in anticipation.

“Yes… baby…” you pant when Jack's tongue licks over your clit and then into your cunt.

His jaw works tirelessly, licking and sucking until your legs wrap around his head, threatening to strangle him between them. His hands have to move to your knees, where he holds them in place. When you peer down at him, all you see is the top of his head and the bulging veins in his arms.

“Ah!” warmth floods your entire body when he flicks your clit with his tongue one last time, plunging you into your climax. “Jack!” 

He kisses the soft skin of your inner thigh as he pulls away, until eventually he’s standing at the foot of the bed, towering over you.

You eye the swell behind the zip of his pants as you slowly rise from the mattress, watching as Jack lazily unbuckles his belt, your stomach fluttering at the sight of it.

“Better be quick, angel, shift starts in a few hours,” Jack says casually.

You blink at him, lips parting, the disappointment on your face immediate. Jack works night shifts, and he’s supposed to have tonight off. Which he usually does, unless someone needs covering.

“I’m teasing,” he smirks when he can’t keep the act up anymore, looking up at you as he finally slides his belt out and flings it to the floor, followed shortly by his shirt.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to be mean,” your eyebrows furrow, giving him an exaggerated wounded look.

“Oh, baby,” Jack murmurs, his tone indulging, like he’s so very fondly humoring you. “I know, ‘m sorry.” He unzips, then pulls down his boxers just enough to let his heavy cock spring free. It lands tall and thick and glistening against his stomach, his thumb swiping over the weeping head before giving himself a few rough strokes.

Your mouth waters, tongue slipping out to lick at your pouty lips. Without a word, you crawl the remaining distance to the end of the bed. When you reach him, you curl your hands around the back of his thighs and peer up into his waiting gaze.

“Poor thing,” he strokes your check, thumb catching on your bottom lip, “you’ve been so patient.” You nod on your way down, lowering your head to lick his tip.

“Thats it,” he murmurs, holding the side of your head in one big hand but not applying any pressure. Your head bobs at the tip, tongue swirling in a way that makes him groan deeply.

You try to take more but gag before you can reach his pelvis, causing your eyes to water.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, “so sweet for me..." You moan, swallowing around the intrusion deep in your throat.

“Thats enough, angel,” he groans, lifting you off of him, letting his wet tip drag down your chin as he pulls back. “I think we need to find you a lip gloss that does this,” he says, holding your jaw in both hands and stroking the corner of your saliva-slick lips with his thumb. 

He leans down into another kiss as he pulls you up against him, shifting his weight with practiced ease. With you in his arms, he lowers you back, following you down carefully until you’re lying beneath him. 

You can’t help the small, content stretch of your body beneath him, the kind that gives away just how giddy you are. There’s a lazy little smile on your face, all soft edges and quiet satisfaction, and Jack catches it immediately.

He doesn’t look away from you as he moves with slow certainty, steered more by instinct than anything else. He leans his weight onto his forearm laid beside you, his other around his cock as he guides it through the valley of your cunt, before pushing in.

You gasp at the same time he groans, hands flying to brace against his bare stomach. 

Jack doesn’t rush. Even when he knows exactly what you want, he takes his time, watching you like he’s memorising every reaction.

He lifts your leg over his shoulder, his hand running up and down your thigh so softly as he drives into you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, low and masculine, “feels so good,” he mumbles when you roll your hips up to meet his. Your back arches on each thrust, but it’s him who keeps the rhythm. 

He leans down to kiss you again, pace slowing. Laying more of his weight on top of you, his warm hands meeting yours as he pushes them both above your head.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he says against your lips, his hips rolling sensually against yours slowly, but so deep. 

“Me too,” you whimper into his hungry kiss.

“Yeah?” he asks with a groan. “Been waiting for me to come home, sweetheart?”

“Uh-hu,” you moan, pushing your stomach into his. You don’t always take your time like this, don’t always let the world outside the bedroom disappear so completely. But tonight is different since neither of you are in any hurry.

He lets go of your hands then, reaching back for one of the pillows against the headboard. With one hand spanning your back, lifting you effortlessly, he pulls it down under you until it’s beneath your pelvis.

“Jack!” you cry at the change in position, feeling his cock push against your stomach from within.

Your mind goes hazy when he leans back and rests one hand flat on your stomach, pushing down slightly, his thumb just skimming your clit.

You pant, mouth opening on a silent moan, core tensing as you claw at the bed sheets.

“There you go,” Jack grits out, “that what you been waiting for?”

You cant speak, cant even nod to answer him, your body convulsing beyond your own control.

Jack watches you so intently, still thrusting deep, until he follows you to climax. Hot, silky seed pumps into you before Jack collapses beside you, breathing heavily.

“Hm,” you mumble in satisfaction, sleepily curling into his side. Then, after a while, you finally ask, “how was your day?”

"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. ♡

💭 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

"good night, sugar. i love you." pope leaned towards you, giving a chaste kiss to your soft, plump lips. "i love you so much." another quick kiss.

you're feeling a little more pent up tonight than usual. you chased pope's lips when he quickly pulled away more than you'd like, you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck.

"one more, please. please, uncle." you pleaded, gazing up at him with the most doe-eyed look (you know he could never say no to) you could muster.

pope didn't say anything. just gave you a small smile, endeared by your neediness, and leaned in to you once more. the kiss was slow this time, careful. you took this opportunity to stick your tongue out, licking his lips. letting him know that you want more. he immediately let you in, your kiss turning ravenous and hungry.

"what's gotten into you, huh? you like my good night kisses that much?" pope hummed close to your mouth, his lips touching yours in the process as he spoke. "mhm, my flower likes them too." you started to get restless in his hold. rubbing your thighs together.

"you're a squirmy little worm tonight. your little flower couldn't wait for my kisses? don't worry sugar, i never forget her. i'm gonna give it to her, don't wanna make her jealous." pope shimmied himself further down the bed, pulling your tiny sleep shorts off at the same time. your cunt was glistening and clenching as your uncle gave his attention to it.

he got closer to your pussy, you felt his breaths as he whispered, "good night. i love you too, so much."

without fail, pope has also never missed a single night without giving you good night kisses there. ♡

you set your brush down and rose from your seat, making your way behind him. you pressed yourself against his back and wrapped your arms around him, your hands barely meeting at his belly. then you rested your cheek against the beef of his arm. 

you looked at him seriously through the mirror. “jack–” you started before he interrupted you, “i’m not complaining, just noticing.” 

he continued, “it’s just. . .not exactly comfortable, especially when we move around a lot. we’re in the emergency department — it’s like a medical survival show.” 

you laughed softly, you agreed. you were ready to admonish him for talking down to himself, you were happy that was not the case. he would be always attractive and sexy in your eyes. 

his growing belly excited you so much you didn’t realise you’d started running your hands languidly up and down, kneading and squeezing the fat.

jack looked down to your hands, raising a curious eyebrow. he felt your chest release heavy breaths, he turned his attention back to the mirror. there was a distant look in your eyes, glazed over. your mouth slightly agape. huh. 

“uhh, hon? should we head out?”

you snapped out of it at the sound of his deep voice. when you came to, you saw him sporting a tiny smirk. you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. 

jack started to connect the dots throughout the night — the way you stared at his stomach when he clasps his hands behind his back during handovers, the gentle pats of praise for his good calls, and, again. . .the containers of food you brought that could be shared between three people, all somehow ending up all for him.

it never occurred to him until now, you’d completely conditioned him into eating more than he usually did. oh well, you wormed your way to his heart through his stomach.

as soon as you locked the door after you got home, jack pulled you into a tight embrace. he’d done it on purpose, holding you against him until you felt his soft belly getting squished between you. you tried really hard to stop the small whimper that escaped you, but he heard it. cat’s out of the bag now. 

“anything you wanna tell me, sweetheart?” 

“umm. . .” you could sense blood rush to your face with humiliation again. how could you possibly confess the dirty stuff you want to do to his belly? you stood there quiet and frozen in place. you wanted to separate yourself from his grasp, run to the bedroom you share with him, and lock yourself in. 

but jack had voiced it out for you. “i saw you eyeing my stomach.” he ran his palms slowly over the exposed skin of your arms, trying to soothe you. “it’s okay. you like it that much?”

“you like that it’s getting bigger? you like seeing the result of your care and how much you love me?” he continued talking, “fuck, baby. . . now that i’m thinking about it, the way you take care of me is making me sooo fucking hard.” 

you gasped at his crudity. he suddenly held one of your wrists and placed your hand on the top of the fat, then he led it downwards to his raging hard on. the sound of your whiny moan made his hips buck up. 

he rested his forehead against yours, you could feel his heavy pants fan on your lips. jesus, he’s really horny. 

“s-show me. fuck—” he didn’t stop thrusting into your hand, he just kept going. “please, baby. please— show me what you wanna do to me.” he sounded absolutely pathetic begging you, and you fucking love it. you could feel yourself soak through your underwear and pants. 

“use me.” 

you instantly dropped to your knees, you bunched his scrub top and undershirt up until his tummy was revealed to you. you peppered it with open-mouthed kisses, licked it, bit it, sucked a hickey on it — all the while keeping your eye on jack completely losing his mind. 

you were never good with talking dirty, instead you showed it through your actions.

you tugged his pants and boxers down, the heaviness of his cock slapping against the plush of his belly. it was, by far, the sexiest sight you’d ever seen. 

you gave him one last kiss on the side of his gut before you enveloped the tip of his cock with your mouth. there was no teasing or patience — you pushed yourself towards the base until you could feel your lips kissing his mound. 

jack never pressured you into taking all of him, he could cum just by licking on his tip alone. but you wanted to make him feel good and hear him praise you for being such a good girl.

most of all, you wanted to feel the fat of his stomach pressing against your forehead. you squeezed the flesh with your hands, so you could get closer to him as much as possible. if you could choose a way to go, this was it — death by suffocation due to his growing belly. maybe next time you could ask him to fuck your mouth like a fleshlight whilst you lie on the bed.

you pulled away before ramming his dick inside your mouth again a couple more times. your top had darkened because it was drenched with your spit. at some point, you involuntarily started to hump the air. you could reach your orgasm just by sucking him off. 

jack had to forcefully pull away, stumbling back, and would’ve fallen on his ass if you hadn’t help stabilise himself. he didn’t want to shoot his load yet, he badly wanted to see what else you’d do to him. 

you two had stripped down to nothing along the way. you were sitting on the meat of jack’s thighs and started bouncing on his cock. you placed your hands on his belly, in awe of the way the movement of your hips caused it to ripple. 

jack held on to your waist, watching you stare at his abdomen. something awakened inside of him, he adjusted the position of his lower limbs, bended his knees, and rested the soles of his feet on the mattress. he started to pound himself into you, meeting you halfway. the ripples turned into stronger waves, making you moan out loud and sinking your nails into the flesh. 

he brought one of his hands to his mouth — biting the back of it as he groaned at the combination of pleasure and pain. his voice was muffled when he grunted, “i’m cumming, baby. shit–! i’m– cumming!”

he was surprised when you pulled yourself out because he’d always cum inside of you. he didn’t have the opportunity to question you as he could not stop his release, making a mess all over his tummy. 

you were almost at your peak as well, you rolled your hips against his belly — your wetness mixed with jack’s seed were used as lubricant to easily rub your clit on him. 

“jesus fucking christ.” jack quietly muttered to himself, the scene was making his flaccid dick harden again. “yeah. . . make it messier, baby. make yourself cum on it.”

your body jolted, convulsing in shockwaves. jack could feel your hole clenching and more of your juices leaking out of you. the real thing was even better than you could ever imagine, you’d been humping your pillow wishing it was jack instead. 

you dismounted from jack’s body to position yourself at his side, you bent forward to start gently lapping on your mixed fluids saturating his skin. you took your time cleaning him up while he watched, adoring. today, you made him feel more loved and cherished. ♡

just from watching him around his family, you could tell pope liked to be needed. even when it was just the two of you, he was so gentle, so ready to listen to your words. even a small request would have him at your door in a heartbeat. he always went above and beyond for you, even if the two of you weren’t exactly a couple. you both… understood each other. that understanding made pope open up more little by little.

you first tested it out on a monday morning.

lena was sat at the counter, enjoying a small stack of pancakes you had whipped up. around a month ago, you’d began staying over more. with both baz and cath gone, you knew that pope needed a little help. it was the least you could do.

you stood by the stove, pouring more pancake mix into the pan. nowadays you spent almost every morning together, whether you stayed the night or not. by the time the pancakes were done, pope had rounded the corner like clockwork. lena had almost finished her stack, sipping a small glass of orange juice. she was completely consumed by the cartoons on the tv, a small pleasure you gave her before she had to leave for school.

“s’not good to watch cartoons so early.” pope muttered, mainly to you rather than lena. he stood parallel to you, his eyes shifting from the little girl, to you. he silently studied the furrow of your brow as you managed to flip the last pancake.

“It’s fine, a little pbs isn’t going to kill her, pope.”

pope only shrugged, leaning against the counter as you readied up a plate. he liked having you here. everything felt less empty when you were around. despite his necessity for organization and cleanliness, he liked how you just existed. he eyed the mess of your bags and strung about shirts on the couch. it was your domain as of late. most times he’d walk through the door and find you already asleep. he’d watch you for a bit. watch the steady thump of your pulse against your neck, or the subtle twitch in your hand when he knew you were dreaming.

he wanted to make sure you were safe. that you were comfortable.

you caught on to that quickly enough.

you handed pope a plate, done just the way he liked. the plate warm against your palm as you surveyed him. His hair was slightly damp from his shower, the auburn curls sticking to the back of his freckled neck.

pope turned his attention back to you, ready to take the plate before you pulled it back. his hand grabbed the air before quickly falling back down. he looked at you, a slight quirk in his eyebrow. he reached for the plate again, you tutted.

“say please.” you gave him a coy look. pope’s eyes dropped from your face, to the pancakes, then rose back to your face. he hadn’t caught on yet.

“please?” he mumbled. since when did he have to say please?

“what was that?” you teased, cupping your ear to hear him better.

“please.” he said, this time with more clarity. His eyes stayed trained on you. he felt like he had missed something.

you nodded, handing him the plate. “that’s what i like to hear.” you smirked at him, readying your own plate.

pope stood there for a few more seconds before sitting down at the counter. he watched your figure move about as you made your breakfast. why had you done that? a thousand questions spun in pope’s mind. teasing wasn’t an irregularity from you, especially in the morning. however, this carried more weight to it. he was so used to smurf and her condescending warnings, the way she’d call him baby while daring him to cross her again.

he’d done something wrong.

that had to be it.

why else would you ask him to say please?

maybe you felt unappreciated. with all the jobs pope pulled, it was mostly you and lena here together. lena loved you, you were able to connect easily with her.

the thought only made pope’s guilt stir further. he wanted to make you feel special, to feel supported. he tried to recall all the times you’d made him something to eat. sure he never asked you to, but it was the thought that counted wasn’t it?

he’d do better, for your sake.

you tested it out again around a week later.

pope kept the door open as lena walked into the house. he watched as she went into her room, presumably shrugging off her backpack after a long day at school.

“pope? can you come here for a second?” you yelled from the bathroom.

the shower head had been leaking recently. normally you’d have brushed it off if it was in your own home, but you knew pope liked having something to do. something to fix.

pope was in there a second after you finished your sentence.

“yeah?” he looked around, wondering for a split second if you were hurt. he gave you a once over, checking for any sign of injury. once he’d reasoned that you were fine, he let himself relax.

“The shower head’s been leaking, do you think that you could fix it? could you do that for me, please?”

pope glanced up at the nozzle, he watched it steadily drip. he slowly looked back at you, wordlessly nodding. your phrasing had made him feel warm, and pliant.

“i’ll have to grab my tools, they’re at smurf’s.”

you smiled, gently rubbing his bicep.

“thank you, you’re so sweet.” you slipped past him then, letting your hand linger before leaving the room.

pope watched you go, his skin prickling at the residual sensation of your grasp. he liked it when you touched him, it usually meant he’d done something right.

“no problem…” he muttered, buffering for a moment before getting to business.

from then on, pope made an effort to be better. he constantly said his please and thank you’s, he helped you clean, helped with whatever you asked him to.

in return he’d get validation. whether it be verbal, physical, or emotional.

you’d tell him how he did such a great job, or how you were proud of him. you’d rub his back, his shoulder, his arm, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. your praise rain straight to his cock, his whole body warming as if on command. it felt good knowing he’d done well for you. he knew he’d do it over and over again just to get that sweet look in your eye.

you knew your affect on him. pope was so gentle with you, if was only fair you treat him the same way. at a glance it might’ve seemed a bit exploitative. but truly, you knew pope liked to be useful. if it made him feel good, it made you feel good.

plus there was that odd time when you heard him jacking off after you’d called him your little helper.

you had him wrapped around your finger, and pope loved it.