Summary ⟅ When it comes time for you to finally admit your feelings for Peter, you meet a version of him you've never seen before.
Requested: yes
Peter Parker x Reader / ⟣ SMUT / 3.6k ⟢
Warnings: BND peter, no spoilers that aren't in the trailer, light angst if you squint, virgin!peter (is this canon...?), peter is SENSITIVE, some yearning, grinding, dry humping (everyone cheered), dirty talk, peter is losing control, p in v, dacryphilia, nipple sucking, peter cums A LOT, creampie, slight praise, he whines and whimpers a bunch, he overstimulates himself, kinda sub space, I think that's it?
Lily's note — 🪷 well this is clearly not my niche but i got that request and needy peter? you don't have to ask me twice. IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT LETTING ME KNOW :D
It had taken you a while to break through to Peter. But ever since you bumped into him that first day of moving into your new apartment, there was something about his eyes—something that eerily reflected the pain you'd felt through the past years—that made you want to know him.
He was extremely hesitant at first, understandably so given what you knew now about the whole spiderman and everyone forgetting him thing, but after getting to know you and hearing about the barrage of troubles the universe had thrusted your way, he figured if there was anyone he could trust, it was you.
A year later, not much had changed in your lives. You were still two struggling adults in your twenties just trying to get by on the day-to-day, except now, at least you had each other to cope. At least you were able to find some reprieve and light, though the pain from your lives remained a low hum in the background.
You weren't exactly sure when it began happening—maybe a few months in—but you noticed it randomly one day. Your heart started beating faster around him. Then, he began taking up extra space in your mind until eventually, the thoughts became too loud to ignore.
You chalked the feelings up to all the trauma bonding and hours you’d spent together trying to shut out and disappear from the real world. You tried to ignore the rush of joy you felt when he laughed, or the dizziness of your head whenever you caught a glimpse of him changing out of his suit, until you were drowning in a pool of affection that you weren't sure you could surface from.
There’d been a few times the confession almost slipped from your tongue. The intimate nights sitting out on the fire escape with food and the sound of the city in the distance, or the times where he sat a little too close to you on the couch during movie nights.
But then he’d sigh, his gaze going foggy as he zoned out on some far off point, murmuring, “MJ would have hated this movie,” or “Ned used to love this burger place.”
And just like that the words would die on your tongue. How could you ever compete with the monument of love he carried for his past relationships? No, it was easier to suppress the feelings and toss them atop the mountain of other struggles you carried. You’d learn to manage with the extra weight simple because the alternative—a life absent of his presence—wasn’t something you could fathom.
Then things started changing.
First, he was suddenly busy on your sacred days off, days you would always spend together exploring new restaurants and coffee shops around the city. Then, he started turning you away on his patrol nights, nights where you’d kept him company and even helped patch up the nastier cuts he couldn't reach. Excuse after excuse came and the fear that he’d figured out your feelings twisted your gut with nerves.
It didn't take long for you to come to the conclusion that he was building a wall to preserve the sanctity of his memory with MJ. There could be no other reason for the sudden distance. You tried convincing yourself it was for the best. The perfect solution to help you cope with losing him, because if it wasn’t now, it would be later.
You lasted exactly three days. Three days of radio silence was what it took for you to realize that no, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stay away from him. Maybe it was the return to a forgotten loneliness, a deep, screaming void, that had you knocking on his door frantically that night, your fist nearly pounding through the paint-chipped wood.
The door cracked open an inch and before he could get the opportunity to reject you, you pushed your way through, bursting into his apartment with a temper he’d never seen.
“Hey, stranger,” you said with a hint of venom in your voice. You turned to face him, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of his pale, flushed skin, a fine sheen of sweat settled on his temples. His eyes looked unusually dark; you blinked your own a few times to clear them and make sure you weren’t seeing something that wasn’t there.
He said your name through the rasp of his shaky voice. “I-I’m sorry, I’m busy right now… you should go.”
“Like hell I should,” you scoffed, any anxious thoughts replaced by an unwavering surge of protectiveness. “Is this why you’ve been ghosting me? Are you sick or something?”
His face suddenly scrunched up, his hand raising to hold his head as he whimpered in pain. “I’m n-not ghosting you… I just…”
You took a step closer to him, freezing when he flinched back and held out a hand to stop you. Your heart fell to your stomach as you watched his eyes darken further. “Pete, I don’t know what’s going on but, please, let me help you… Stop pushing me away.”
You attempted another careful step forward until he pushed himself back against the wall.
“S-stop, stop! Please just… don’t come closer.”
You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat that had risen, clenching your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You waited patiently for him to speak, scared that the next words that left him were going to be the ones to shatter your world.
“I,” he paused, breathing in a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t… trust myself to be around you right now.”
Your brows pressed together in confusion. “Why not?”
His eyes bore into the ground as he tried to gather his thoughts over the multitude of senses that surged the moment you approached his door, but everything was fuzzy and melted together until all he could feel was you. Your presence, and it was driving him crazy.
“My systems are detecting an abnormally high heart rate, Peter,” Evie’s robotic voice rang out. “System overload is approaching.”
“Not now, Evie,” Peter choked out.
You shook your head in disbelief. “You can trust me, Peter. Please. Haven’t I proven that to you? After everything?”
“I-It’s not that—”
“Then what?” You approached him despite his protests, not stopping until you were a step away from touching.
His brain nearly short-circuited, any lasting restraint vanishing as he allowed you to fully flood his senses. The shampoo you used this morning, the perfume you’d applied a few hours ago, the fast thump thump of your heart, a beautiful rhythm that drowned out all rational thought to disarm him completely.
“Something is happening to me,” he gasped, the words tearing from his chest. “My arachnid DNA is… it’s evolving. Mutating. Everything is turned up to ten thousand a-and my impulses—” he cut himself off, slamming his head back against the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.
You shook your head, your hands reaching for him again. “If you’re scared you’ll hurt me, you won’t—”
“No!” he spat out desperately. “It’s not that I—I c-can’t—” He was practically shaking now, violent tremors racking his body.
Your heart ached as you watched him. Unable to control yourself, you lifted your hands to cup his flushed cheeks, his skin burning under your palms. “Peter,” you whispered softly, your voice reaching him over the storm raging within.
He stared at you, his pupils dilated so wide, only a thin ring of the soft brown you loved so much was present. Your lips parted with a pant at the hunger displayed in them as you got lost in their depths, a raw need you’d never seen before. “Woah…”
A low, tormented whimper escaped him when your thumbs rubbed along his skin, the sound shooting straight to pool low in your stomach, spreading a heat you scolded yourself for internally. Now was not the time.
“I can’t think straight when you’re near,” he confessed through a strained voice. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t act normal. I can’t pretend like I usually do… not when all I want to do is—”
He groaned, tipping his head back against the door, a final sliver of restrain returning before he crossed the line.
“What, Peter?” you pressed, leaning closer to eliminate the last inch of space between your bodies, your chests brushing. You looked at him with such care, your gaze so gentle and understanding and comforting. “What do you want to do?”
In the split second before he moved you were able to catch the black swallowing the last fragment of brown, followed quickly by the entirety of the whites of his eyes. Then his lips were on yours.
It was all consuming as his mouth moved over yours, desperately kissing as if you were the very air that filled his lungs and it was being threatened away from him.
His hands dug into your sides, fisting your skin to pull you flush against his body until you could feel the taught muscle hidden beneath his shirt. You gasped into his mouth when he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist, moaning when he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours.
He fell back onto the couch behind him, keeping you close as he continued to devour your lips, whimpering when your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging to pull him back so you could take a breath.
He fought against your grip, his eyes opening to lock onto yours when you pulled harder. Your chest heaved as you stared into the black pools with awe.
“I-I’m sorry,” he managed to say through clenched teeth, barely suppressing the desire to ravage you whole. “I tried to hide my feelings but it's harder like this.”
The smile that graced your lips had his head spinning all over again, his eyes burning as they turned glassy.
“Feelings?” you mumbled, leaning down to ghost your lips over his, the heat in your belly spreading further when he tried to chase them. You curve into him just enough to feel something poking you as he let out another strangled gasp. “You like me, Peter?”
A tear slips down his cheek when you say his name, the sound falling so beautifully from your lips, making his cock pulse harder in his sweatpants. The grip he has on you tightens, subconsciously pressing you down over his throbbing boner.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, I just… can’t lose you, too.”
Your heart clenches when his voice cracks with agony. You want to scream at him and the world the depths of your feelings for him, how he could never lose you and how the same fear had been tormenting you for weeks. But words felt small, too insufficient. So you showed him by capturing his lips with yours once more.
He met them with relief, his arms wrapping fully around your torso to cage you against him in an attempt to get as close to fusing your bodies together as possible. You arched into him, fully dragging your core against his cock, the friction a sweet torture that had his mouth falling open in a broken moan.
“Please,” he gasped against your cheek.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your lips latching onto the sensitive skin as you rocked your hips faster. You could feel every inch of his cock pressing against your heat, your aching clit pulsating in your soaked panties. His grip on you turned bruising, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he guided your movements to match how much he needed you.
“So g-good… you feel so—mngh—” he whined.
Just then a sharp blaring came from the other side of the room, a sound you recognized as his police scanner. You stilled your movements and removed your head from his neck. Before you could say anything, Peter’s arm flung out. A web whipped through the air and a second later it connected with the phone, striking it hard enough for a loud crack to sound out, silencing the alarm.
His black eyes shot back to find your surprised ones. He’d never, ever, ignored the call. But tonight he didn’t care. Tonight, all he wanted was you.
You could practically see the possession in his eyes as he stood up, holding you against him. Seconds later, your back met the soft mattress of his bed as he laid you down, quickly pressing himself back between your legs, his mouth finding your neck, kissing and nipping a trail of fire. Your mind, however, was still trying to comprehend what you’d just seen.
He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands beside your head, his hips rutting shamelessly into you with a pressure that stole your breath. You turned to stare at his wrist, bare of the bulky web shooters.
“Peter,” you panted, arching into his thrust. “How did you… the web?”
His lips trailed up your cheek, messily kissing over your lips with a desperate fervor.
“Arachnid DNA,” is all he mumbled.
“O-Oh.. cool,” you managed to say before he swallowed the word with his tongue.
He parted to sit back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his sweat slicked torso. Your mouth went dry when he pulled down his sweats and underwear in one go, kicking them off the rest of the way.
Your gaze dropped, a heady moan slipping at the sight of his thick cock flushed a deep red as it pulsed against his stomach, streams of precum dripping down the sides.
He climbed back over you, pressing his cock into your clothed heat to resume his rutting, panting little sounds of pleasure into your ear.
“Mnmh—ah! I can—fuck… I can feel how warm you are, can smell you." His hands slipped beneath your shirt, running up until they grazed the soft skin of your breasts.
Something new in him snapped when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. He started snapping his hips harder into you until your body was climbing up the bed. “I’m sorry—oh god… fuck, I’m so sorry—I can't stop—”
“It’s okay, Peter.”
“No,” he pleaded, his lips brushing your throat. “I can’t hold back anymore. Fuck—I need you to tell me—”
“I’m here for you, Peter,” you whispered, cupping his face to force his dazed eyes back to yours. His lids were blotchy with tears, his lips red and kiss-swollen. You could see the struggle in them, the fight against his depraved thoughts to make sure you were okay with this. It only made you want him more. “Use me.”
Any remaining tension in his face melted. His brows relaxed, the cute crinkles by his eyes smoothing over at your permission.
He shoved your shirt over your head, moaning at the sight of your chest, your nipples peaked and begging for his touch. He captured one in his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking hard. His other hand rolled the other between his fingers, flicking and pinching the sensitive bud, drawing out high pitched cries from your lips.
“Mmm, so pretty, taste so sweet.”
His free hand fumbled with your pants in an attempt to push them down, a frustrated, almost animalistic groan escaping him when they caught on your hips. He gave a small tug and tore the fabric away from your body, discarding it without a second thought.
“Hey!” you yelped, the protest dying when he pressed the hot head of his cock through your sodden folds, rubbing it through the slick mess.
The slick sounds of your wet heat were enough to make his consciousness slip as he failed to suppress a sob.
He could hear every microscopic hitch of your breath in his heightened ears, every pulse at your clit against his shaft a divine torment, the rush of your blood beneath your skin. You watched, enamored, as his eyes fluttered weakly when his tip caught at your hole, and then he was pushing in.
“O-Oh fuu—” his eyes fluttered as your tight cunt clenched around the invasion.
“I’m sorry, so sorry—so tight, fuck, ‘M sorry—” he apologized in a continuous stream as he sank in, forcing himself deeper until he was fully bottomed out. Tears slipped from his eyes, cascading down his flushed cheeks, your walls clamping down to draw out more small cries from him, basking in the sight.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the stretch. It had been a while for you and Peter was so thick. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock dragging against your velvety walls as his hips met yours.
Before you could fully adjust and let the sting subside, he was pulling out and driving back into you with a punctured breath, stealing the air from your lungs. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back, biting your lip to suppress a yelp as he set a brutal pace, each thrust burying him just as deep.
The head of his cock kissed your cervix with an overwhelming, euphoric pressure.
“Cunt feels so fucking good, squeezing me so tight.”
The pain began to fade, replaced by a pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking your ankles, pushing him deeper inside you. “'M so full, Peter.”
He collapsed onto you, his lips leaving wet, sloppy kisses wherever he could reach as he fucked you mercilessly, his cock pistoning in and out of you.
The pressure in your belly snuck up on you, building and coiling tight like a live wire trapped beneath your skin.
“P-Peter—!” you cried out, your cunt fluttering around his cock. You bowed off the bed, your back arching as he fucked the orgasm out of you, wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy flowing through your nerves.
The foreign scent of your cum invaded his senses, something he could only describe as overwhelmingly you and all-consuming, causing his eyes to screw shut with a sob.
The violent constrictions of your walls around his cock only edged him on further. He fucked you through your climax with ragged, desperate bucks, his movements dissolving into a frenzy, the filthy sounds of wet skin slapping together filling the room.
You latched onto his wrists beside your head, feeling an intense heat radiating from the hypersensitive skin over his organic webbing. Before you were even aware of your actions, your head was turning, your lips pressing a soft kiss to his wrist.
Words were beyond him as your touch reduced him to incoherent, whimpering babbles. “Feels… s’good—mphm. C-Can’t… ‘M yours… all yours—”
His thrusts turned erratic, his gut tightening as he rested his forehead on your chest, nuzzling into your skin in an attempt to sink into you, to become one.
"It h- it hurts—can't stop... 'M sorry—"
You could feel his cock swelling inside you, his thrust faltering to shallow, uncoordinated thrusts. A sob wretched from him, wanton and broken, hot tears spilling from his clenched eyes, dripping onto your skin.
"Come for me, Peter."
He sank all the way in one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go as his body tensed.
Then his mind blanked.
His vision went black, speckled with stars. With a guttural cry, he came, his release a torrent, spilling deep into your cunt in thick, hot pulsing waves. He whined into your chest, his body spasming through each powerful jet.
You panted through each hard twitch of his cock, overwhelmed with the sheer volume of cum as he continued to fill you, the sensation so intense you struggled to catch your breath. It just kept going as he shook above you, his cum leaking out around the base of his cock still stuffed deep inside you.
He stayed there as your cunt milked every drop, creating a home for himself, content with living inside you for as long as you'd let him.
You carded a hand through his hair as tremors continued to wrack his oversensitive body. “Shh, you’re okay,” you whispered into his ear, your voice hoarse. “You did so good.”
He went boneless above you, a dead, spent weight. Eventually, his softened cock slipped from your used cunt, followed by a stream of his release dripping down to soak the sheets as you whimpered through it all.
A few moments later, the silence in the room was broken by Evie’s voice. “Heart rate regulated. Vitals have returned to baseline levels.”
It seemed to bring Peter back to earth. He lifted his head from your chest with a groggy moan, blinking blearily down at you. His eyes were back to their normal, warm brown, the black reduced to his pupils, though still glazed with wonder.
You guided him to his back, leaning over to wipe the tears from his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He sniffled, fresh tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to happen like that. I wanted to be… better for you.”
You shushed him gently, kissing his cheek. “We’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he insisted, the vulnerability clear in his tone. “I am.”
You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Then never ignore me like that again.”
He sniffled with a nod, his lips squirking up into that boyish smile that made your heart ache. “Okay.”
“Do you feel better?” you asked, your hands smoothing down his chest.
He nodded, a dark blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “I didn’t know I could feel that good,” he admitted with awe.
“Has it been a while for you, too?”
He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking away for a second before meeting yours again anxiously. ‘I’ve never, um…” he took a shaky, deep breath. “That was my uh, first time.”
Your hands froze on his chest. “What?”
He winced. “I told you I couldn’t control myself.”
You laughed at the surprising confession, leaning down to brush your nose against his. “Well, at least it was memorable.”
He smiled, all shy and genuine and so Peter-like, you couldn’t resist kissing him, tender and slow. Your hand continued rubbing, your thumb brushing over a nipple, circling it to a peak when he whimpered, his whole body jolting back away at your touch.
“Tsk, so sensitive.” Your hand trailed lower, grazing over the dips of muscle to rest just above where his cock was stirring back to life. “So how easy is it for that side of you to come out?”
His breath caught as your finger dug into the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. When you flicked your eyes back up to his, you saw it again.
The inky blackness had started to expand, swallowing the warm brown, once again drawn out by you.
Don't be shy to leave a like comment or reblog, truly means the world to me :D
cutting it close but we made it for day three of the december writing challenge! wotd: fireplace
1.1k of self-indulgent smut for my winter hating self where reader makes steve cum in his pants during an ice storm. 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW
contents: steve harrington x reader, afab reader, porn without plot, sweet steve trying (and succeeding) to warm you up, smooches, dry humping, making stevie boy ruin his levi’s <3
The ice storm outside was pretty until it knocked the power out. Now it’s a bitter reminder of how unforgiving a Midwest winter can be. You scowl as you look out Steve’s frosted bedroom window, bare tree branches bending harshly in the wind. The power whirred back on eventually, but the heat is still struggling to circulate through the expansive Harrington house. You’re about to turn into an icicle if it doesn’t reach you soon.
Steve just can’t have that. At the first sign of goosebumps he springs into action, pulling out piles of blankets, offering you his sweatshirt right off his body, searching for space heaters in the attic. He even figured out how to get the fireplace going in his parent’s drafty living room, which is impressive considering you don’t think it’s ever been used. Steve would do anything to make you more comfortable. He’s eager to please.
In front of the fireplace the two of you are settled together on the couch, space heaters on either side with a blanket draped over you for good measure. Steve attempts to use his hands as radiators on your skin, rubbing up and down your arms, your torso, your legs. You feel yourself shiver again as Steve’s hand drops down closer to your core.
“Still cold, baby?” he questions with a frown.
You can’t tell if your persistent goosebumps are from the temperature or the way Steve’s thumb swipes back and forth on your inner thigh. You nod anyway, curling further into his side.
“How about this to warm you up?”
You sigh dreamily into his mouth as Steve’s lips envelope yours into a kiss. Big, strong arms shift you into his lap. He's like a human furnace. As you turn to face him fully, lips still locked, the blanket drops carelessly to the floor. You’re grateful for it – suddenly everything feels a bit too hot. Steve has that effect on you.
“It’s working,” you admit.
“Guess we gotta keep going, huh?” he muses as he licks into your mouth, tongue swiping against your lower lip.
Despite how sweet he tastes, Steve is holding you down to his core with a firm pressure that makes your head spin and your clit throb. You’ve gotta hand it to him – it’s warming you right up. The hard outline of his cock pokes into you immodestly, his tight jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. You’re both desperately searching for more skin-to-skin contact, chests pressed together and hands roaming everywhere. A big hand unabashedly gropes your breasts under your shirt while your smaller one cards through the coarse hair on Steve’s tummy leading down to his waistband.
“Is this what they would call heavy petting?” he laughs into your neck.
“You’re disgusting,” you tease with a roll of your hips.
Steve’s cock kicks from the friction. “You love it.”
It’s true. More so, you love Steve. It’s hard not to when he’s been nothing but a perfect partner. You used to think that boyfriends like him only existed in the movies. He may have taken some pages out of their playbooks, sure, but it works on you and you let it. You love how considerate he is, how patient, how gentle. Steve has never given you a reason to feel insecure – he doesn’t just tell you how he feels about you, he shows you. Like right now, with how close he is to making a mess in his pants after a few minutes of kissing.
You discard your shirt haphazardly before unclasping your bra, letting it fall down your frame. Steve gingerly removes it and presses a kiss to your collarbone before moving back up to your lips. Your thighs clench over his, pussy drooling with desire.
“Thought you said you were cold?” Steve questions knowingly.
You kiss the smirk right off his face. “I’m burning up now.”
The nerves between your legs spark as Steve starts sweeping his thumbs over your nipples. You shamelessly rut your hips against his again, grinding down with fervor on the ever-growing bulge in Steve’s jeans. The fireplace crackles away behind you and licks delicious heat up the now exposed skin of your back.
Steve’s fingers press into your spine sharply as he tries to ground himself. Even with his feet fully rooted to the floor, it’s not working very well.
“Gotta slow down, honey,” he chokes out, “gonna burst if you keep that up.” He’s rock solid underneath you.
Your fingers play devilishly in the curls at the nape of his neck. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, my god,” he moans, head falling back on the couch cushions. It gives you an exquisite view of the column of his throat.
Taking advantage of the sight before you, you lick a stripe up his neck and pepper gentle kisses beneath his ear, sucking gently on the sensitive spot. Leaning back, you can see the effects of your handiwork, Steve’s skin beginning to bloom a pretty shade of purple.
Your pelvis is still pressed insistently over his. He shudders with his eyes screwed shut, trying to avert his gaze to keep himself from tumbling over the edge. You’d prefer to make him break.
You bring your lips up to the shell of his ear before whispering, “I want to feel you come.”
You do. His cock twitches pathetically against your clothed heat before he falls off the precipice, crying out and tightening his grip on your waist. Steve’s head has fallen into the crook of your neck and the scent of his shampoo and sweat makes your mouth water. His eyelashes tickle your skin and you shiver as you feel his hot, heavy breath ghost over your shoulder. Your hips continue to grind unrelentingly as Steve rides out his orgasm. A dark, wet spot now ruins the front of his Levi’s.
Steve pants as he comes down from his high, feeling suffocated. Sweat drips down his forehead with the space heaters still working overtime. It’s not the only thing making him feel sticky.
“That was easy,” you giggle triumphantly.
Steve groans, head still buried in the crook of your neck. His cheeks burn a deep shade of scarlet.
“Quit teasing,” he begs.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” you soothe, “I think it’s hot.”
You coax Steve’s head out from its cave to force him to look at you. His lips are swollen, bitten raw from trying and failing to hold back. Glassy eyes find yours, blinking slowly, head still hazy. Your heart swells and your pussy weeps.
Suddenly Steve is shifting you from his lap to his thigh, hands locking onto your hips before grinding you down onto his tensed muscle. Arousal courses through you and fuels the fire between your legs. As your hands grip onto his biceps to keep yourself steady, Steve moves in for another steamy kiss.
“Well in that case,” he murmurs against your lips, “let me return the favor, honey.”
a/n: bring back dry humping! make that man cum in his pants!
ao3: honorschem. divider by @firefly-graphics!
THANK YOU <3 to everyone who has been reading and interacting so far! i am truly humbled to know other people are reading my fic and it's crazy that this isn't me just dumping my horny thoughts into the void. it makes my day to see your likes, reblogs, and comments :)
peter parker’s never kissed anyone, and pretending to do it in a closet was just to spare him the humiliation. teaching him the basics? innocent enough. until he starts learning how to touch, how to beg, and how to make you forget it was ever pretend (ongoing)
genres: college au, fake-dating, friends w. benefits
notes: will contain smut! block the tag below to not get it on ur feed! but whew. tony stark is alive and well and so is the rest of the avengers... big happy family
caleb’s a fucking mess under you, sprawled on his creaking bed, your slick pussy swallowing his cock as you bounce hard, each slam making his eyes roll back. he’s trying to talk about airplanes, clinging to some shred of control, but his moans and filthy thoughts keep spilling out, his hands groping every inch of your body like a desperate perv.
“the 747’s—fuck, so fucking tight—got a, ngh, thrust-to-weight ratio—” he chokes, a guttural moan cutting him off as you grind down, your wet cunt clenching his throbbing cock. his eyes are wild, darting from your bouncing tits to your sweat-slicked thighs, drinking in how your body jiggles, pussy lips stretched around him. his hands are everywhere—one gripping your hip, fingers sinking in the soft skin, the other squeezing your ass cheek so hard it’ll bruise, pulling you down to take his cock deeper. “shit, you’re milking me,” he groans, voice raw.
he tries again, panting. “wingspan’s like—oh god, fuck—200 feet or—” another moan rips through, his hips jerking up, cock slamming into you, hitting so deep you gasp. he’s staring at your dripping pussy, the way it sucks him in, slick coating his base, and he’s losing it. “wanna fill you up so bad,” he blurts, not even thinking, his hand sliding to your lower stomach, pressing where he can feel his cock bulge. “fuck, look at you, taking it like a champ.”
his words are sloppy, half airplane facts, half depravity. “jet engines—shit, so wet—push 60,000 pounds, but your pussy’s—” he cuts off, whining as you roll your hips, grinding your clit against him, making his cock twitch. his other hand roams, grabbing your thigh, then your waist, fingers brushing the slick mess where you’re joined. “gonna cum so hard in you,” he mumbles, eyes locked on your bouncing form, obsessed with how your ass slaps his thighs, how your pussy drips down his balls.
“don’t even know—fuck, fuck—cruising altitude’s nothing compared to—” he’s babbling, moaning louder, thrusting up sloppily to meet your bounces. his hands grip harder, one sliding to spread your ass, staring at your tight hole in the opposite mirror as he imagines fucking it next. “you feel so good!” he rasps, voice breaking, too gone to care how pathetic he sounds. he’s humping up, cock pulsing, hands groping frantically, lost in your body and his own filthy, incoherent thoughts.
a/n: you can tell I had to do research for this one☝🏼🤓
Synopsis: While getting ready for an event, Caleb walks into your room to see if you’re ready, only to find you standing in front of the mirror, mascara smudged, tears streaming down your face, as you stare back at yourself, completely hating the way you look in the tight dress. Caleb ensures you know just how good you actually look, with or without the dress on.
Pairing: Caleb x femChubby!Reader
Wc: 1.8K words
Tags: Caleb x femChubby!Reader, insecure!Reader, smut, unprotected sex, mdni, fingering (fem receiving), use of Pipsqueak Pips and Pretty Girl, established relationship, piv, dirty talk, mentions of body dysmorphia and insecurity, Caleb reassures Reader, crying because of body, squirting (kind of?), creampie, mirror sex, lmk if I missed anything!
Notes: This is my very first fic! I’ve wanted to get into writing for a while now, so I decided, what the heck! Suggestions and tips are welcome, just please be kind! Thank you! <3
You loved getting dressed up. But you also hated it at the same time.
Seeing all those beautiful dresses online, shopping for them, and thinking, “Oh my gosh! That dress is so cute on her!” and then ordering it, trying it on, and it not fitting the right way at all. It’s not fair how those models wear it so perfectly, and then the second you put it on, it looks as if you’re wearing a really bad Halloween costume from when you were 13.
That’s exactly the predicament you find yourself in on this Friday evening. After barely getting this new dress over your chest, shimmying it down over your tummy, and getting the skirt past your butt and thighs, you look into the mirror and feel like a lumpy sack of potatoes.
“What the hell? This is not how it looked online,” you huffed out, fuming because you did not have enough time to find another dress. You felt that familiar burning sensation building up behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Great, your fresh face of makeup was probably ruined now.
You looked over the way your tummy was visible through the front of the dress, the way your love handles made your sides look lumpy, and let’s not forget about how your thighs were practically spilling out of the skirt. You didn’t even want to go anymore, let alone let Caleb see you like this.
Sure, you two had been dating for a couple of months, and it’s not like you hadn’t had sex, but every time you did, you insisted on having the lights off, and who was Caleb to make you feel uncomfortable by denying your request? Some part of you knew that Caleb wouldn’t care in the slightest about your tummy or love handles; in fact, he would probably appreciate them (more to love, right?). But you didn’t want to risk it, because all of your past relationships always made you feel so insecure, like your worth was less than because of your size.
You’re suddenly yanked out of your self-deprecating thoughts by the sound of a soft knock and the opening of your door. Your tear-stained face whips around to find Caleb standing in your doorway, a white dress shirt stretched across his broad chest, straining against his biceps, complete with a blue tie and dress pants, a confused look written across his face.
He rushes forward when he sees more tears fall from your eyes, a look of concern filling his. “Pips, hey, what’s wrong? Why is my beautiful girl crying?” he asks with a soft voice, taking your hands into his. That statement only makes you cry harder, your face turning away from him, trying to escape his grasp.
He takes both of your wrists in one hand, using the other to gently grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, answer me, pretty girl,” he says, a small, reassuring smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to get out between sobs. “It’s okay, take your time, just tell me what’s wrong, Pips,” Caleb says, wiping your tears away with his thumb.
“It’s just, I’m sorry, I’m not ready, and I hate this dress and how it looks on me, and I’m sorry you have to go out with me looking like this-” you’re cut off by a kiss, his lips meeting yours gently, but with a purpose.
As he pulls away, his eyes don’t leave yours. “What are you even talking about? This dress? It looks fucking amazing on you, Pipsqueak. And I’m the luckiest guy on the planet to be able to go out with you. I hate how much you talk down on yourself. You’re so breathtaking, and I want to show you just how much I love you. I’m going to make sure you know just how fucking amazing you are.”
Your eyes go big at his last statement, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You swallow harshly as he moves his eyes painfully slow up and down your body. He kisses your lips quickly, one last time, before turning you around to face the mirror, your back pressing against his firm chest. He rubs his hands up and down your arms slowly, goosebumps left in their wake.
“Look how pretty my Pips is in this blue dress, the way it hugs every beautiful curve,” his hands move down your sides slowly, accentuating your curves, “how delicious her thighs and pretty tits look in it,” he grabs your hips, slightly rubbing your ass against his crotch. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “and how beautiful she’ll look with it off and on the floor.”
He kisses your neck, biting slightly without breaking eye contact in the mirror. Your chest rises and falls quickly with your increased heart rate. “B-but Caleb, can’t we just go over to the bed if we’re going to do this? In front of the mirror is going to be embarrassing,” you mutter out, eyes darting down to the floor.
“Nah, I’m going to show you just how much I appreciate this beautiful body, and you’re going to watch until you believe it yourself,” he says with a smirk. You bite your bottom lip, knowing that if you actually wanted to stop, he would in a heartbeat. But, there’s a part of you that wants to give in, wants to let him worship your body. So you let him continue.
He begins to unzip the back of your dress, sliding it down your body painfully slow. He savors every second of it, the way it lets your lacy panties and bra set show, and the way it bears you on display for him. You can feel the bulge in his pants against your backside now, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. His hands leave your body for a second, undoing his tie and dress shirt, letting them fall to the floor.
“So pretty for me, Pips,” he mutters out, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide to the floor as well. He holds back for a split second before his hands are on your boobs, kneading them as they fill his entire hands. You arch into his touch, a small moan slipping past your lips.
“Eyes up, watch how good I make you feel,” he bites out, one of his hands coming up to grab your chin, making you watch yourself in the mirror. With one hand still on your chin, his other hand snakes down your body, moving your panties to the side, and slipping one finger between your slick folds.
“So wet for me already, do you secretly like the way I’m making you watch yourself?” he smirks, finally putting two fingers inside your tight hole. “That’s my girl, so pretty grinding against my fingers.” Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers, his erection pushing painfully against the zipper of his dress pants as he continues to grind against your ass.
“Fuck, Caleb, please!” you whine, not even knowing what you’re begging for at this point, just knowing that you need more. “You want me inside of you, Pipsqueak?” Caleb huffs out, his fingers working quickly inside of you. “Yes!” you moan out as he curls his fingers inside of you. Your thighs clench around his hand as he brings you close to the edge.
“I want to watch you come undone on my fingers first, pretty girl. Cum for me, yeah? Gush all over my fucking fingers, let me see you.” Your back arches against his chest, your legs beginning to tremble. That familiar coil at the bottom of your tummy begins to tighten as he brings you dangerously close to the edge.
“Fuck, Caleb!” you whine, clenching around him as he curls his fingers again, “I’m gonna… m’ gonna cum!” you moan loudly, watching yourself come undone on his fingers in the mirror, slick gushing around his hand.
“So pretty for me,” he says as you come down from your high, chest heaving. He gives you about thirty seconds to catch your breath before he’s yanking your panties off completely, fumbling with his button and zipper and pulling his own pants and boxers off.
He walks you forward, pushing you flush against the mirror, your tits pressing firmly agaisnt it. “Look at how beautiful your tits look like this,” he murmus as the cold glass adds a whole new sensation to your nipples. “Now, I want you to feel how much you drive me crazy, I want you to forget all your insecurities, that sound good?” All you can manage is a nod before he grabs your hips, slamming into you, pushing you even harder against the mirror. You back is flush against his chest as he sets a slow but thorough pace. You can feel every inch of him as he begins to move. He’s mezmerized by the way your ass jiggles as he thrusts into you.
His head falls back as you clench around him, already dangerously close to another orgasm. “Can you hold on for me pretty girl? I want to make this last,” he pleads, a groan erupting from him as you clench again.
He picks up his pace, a lewd wet slapping sound filling the room mixed with heavy breathing. He drives into you, making your whole body move with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, not sure you’ll be able to hold on much longer.
“Please, Caleb, I need to cum, please!” you beg, unable to think straight anymore. The only things left on your mind are him and how good you feel. You can feel his thrusts starting to get sloppier, his cock beginning to pulse inside of you. “I’m close Pips, I want you to cum around my cock inside you, pretty girl. Come undone for me,” he moans, his cock beginning to twitch, “Cum for me.”
You practically scream as your slick gushes around him, your orgasm making you see stars like your were just hit by a freight train. You feel his hips stop briefly, stuttering against you as he groans, his cum shooting in hot spurts inside of you. Your legs practically give out as his body is the only thing holding you up against the mirror.
“Do you believe me now when I say how beautiful you are?” he says with a soft chuckle, shaking his head before putting his forehead on your shoulder, still catching his breath. You nod slightly, a smile decorating your lips.
“Should we go clean up? I’m guessing we probably won’t make it in time now,” he laughs again, looking at the time. The event started 30 minutes ago, and they weren’t great with late admission. You nod, turning around to kiss him again, this time softly and filled with passion. “Thank you,” you murmur, burying your head in his chest. He hugs you tighter against his chest, “Of course, Pipsqueak.”
