Today is #benitobowl so i got a little exited abt it!
Summary: in which Benito is obsessed with giving his lovely girlfriend his most sinful devotion, and she loves it.
Warnings: SMUT, +18, NSFW, oral sex (f!receiving) face sitting, rimming,anal play, fingering, squirting, dirty talk
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The night was hot in Miami, the air heavy with the smell of ocean salt and the distant sound of waves crashing against the private beach of Benito’s house. You had just returned from a quick trip to Brazil, and he, the famous Bad Bunny, couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. Benito had always been obsessed with you — not just with your curvy body, those thick thighs he loved to squeeze, or your full breasts that fit perfectly in his hands, but especially with the way you moaned his name when he pushed you to the edge. And, above all, he was crazy for eating you out. It was like an addiction to him: the taste of your cunt, the way you writhed under his tongue, the juices running down his chin while he devoured you mercilessly. He could spend hours between your legs, licking, sucking, nibbling, until you begged for mercy or came so many times you could barely move.
That night, you were in the master bedroom, the king-size bed covered in black silk sheets that contrasted with your tanned skin. Benito had picked you up at the airport personally, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other already sliding up your skirt, lightly fingering the lace of your panties. “Te extrañé, mami,” (I missed you babe) he murmured on the way, his voice hoarse with that Puerto Rican accent that always melted you. Now, in the bedroom, he kissed you hungrily, his large hands exploring every inch of your body. You were lying on your back on the bed, legs spread as he positioned himself between them, his face already lowering toward your center.
But Benito wanted more tonight. He suddenly stopped, lips swollen and wet from the previous kiss, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes. “Mi amor, ven aca,” (My love, c’mere) he said, lying back on the bed and tapping his chest. “Quiero que te sientes en mi cara.” (I want you to sit on my face). The sentence came out direct, no hesitation, but with a pleading tone that caught you off guard. He licked his lips, already imagining the weight of your body on him, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils.
You blinked, feeling heat rise to your face and body. “Benito, no… I’m going to hurt you. I’m too heavy for that.” You tried to brush it off, laughing nervously as you sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked something like this — he was obsessed with eating you in every possible way, but sitting on his face? It seemed risky. You imagined accidentally suffocating him, your thick thighs squeezing his face too hard. “It’s going to hurt you, love. Let’s do it the normal way, okay? You already eat me so well while I’m lying down…” You laughed nervously.
He laughed softly in response, a guttural sound that vibrated through the room, and sat up a bit, pulling you closer by the hand. The tattoos on his arms flexed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his muscular, tanned body pressing against yours. “Mami, por favor… You’re not gonna hurt me. I’m strong, mira.” (Baby, please..). He flexed his biceps playfully, but his eyes were serious, full of desire. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks. I want to feel all of you on top of me, grinding esa pussy en mi boca until you come on my tongue. It’s gonna feel so good for you… for us.” He spoke sweetly, voice low and seductive, kissing your neck slowly, nibbling the sensitive skin there. “I’ll guide you, ok? If it hurts, I stop. But trust me. I need this. I need to taste you completely, feel you using me to come.”
You hesitated, biting your lower lip. His way was irresistible — that loving tone mixed with raw filth that only Benito had. He kissed you again, this time slowly, his tongue dancing with yours while his hands slid up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. “Por favor, mami… sit on my face. I love you so much, I want to give you the best pleasure in the world.” His words melted you, and you felt the wetness growing between your legs just imagining it.
“Okay… but if it hurts, stop right away,” you murmured, heart racing. Benito smiled victoriously, lying back down and adjusting the pillow under his head to get comfortable. He helped you climb up, guiding your legs so you knelt over his face, one leg on each side. You were still wearing your panties, but he didn’t care — his hands slid up your thighs, pulling the lace aside with a quick movement, exposing your swollen, wet cunt to him.
“Ah, mierda… look at that,” he moaned, eyes fixed on you, lips parting in a hungry grin. You slowly lowered yourself, feeling the heat of his breath against your sensitive skin. His hands squeezed your ass, guiding you down. “Ven, nena… sit nice and slow.” You obeyed, lowering your hips until your cunt touched his lips. The moment he felt the contact, Benito attacked.
His tongue came out immediately, licking a wide stripe from your entrance up to your clit, savoring the salty-sweet taste of your arousal. “Mmm, so wet for me,” he murmured against your flesh, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You moaned loudly, hands gripping the headboard to keep from falling. He didn’t stop: sucking your clit hard, alternating with fast, circular licks that made you tremble. His hands massaged your butt, spreading you wider so he could bury his whole face in your cunt, his nose brushing your mound while his tongue pushed inside you, fucking you with deep, rhythmic movements.
“Benito… ah, fuck…” you moaned, your body instinctively moving, grinding slowly against his face. He grunted in approval, squeezing tighter, encouraging you to go deeper. “Eso, mami… use my mouth. Fuck my face.” His words came out muffled but full of lust. You felt your juices dripping down his chin, his goatee scraping against your sensitive skin and adding delicious friction. He licked everything, wasting not a single drop, his tongue exploring every fold, every inch of your vulva. Sometimes he gently bit your inner lips, pulling them with his teeth before sucking hard, making you scream.
The pleasure was intense, overwhelming. You lowered your hips more, fully sitting on his face now, your thighs squeezing the sides of Benito’s head as you ground harder. He didn’t complain — on the contrary, his moans vibrated against your cunt, showing how much he loved it. “Harder, babe… suffocate me with that sweet pussy.” He sucked your clit like candy while one finger slid into you, curling to hit your G-spot. The combo was lethal: tongue on your clit, finger fucking you inside, and his hands gripping your ass like he wanted to fuse you to him.
You felt the orgasm approaching, legs shaking, body hot and sweaty. “Benito, I’m gonna— ah, fuck!” He sped up, tongue flicking insanely fast, finger thrusting in and out slick with your juices. Suddenly he added another finger, stretching you, and sucked so hard you exploded. The orgasm hit in waves, your body convulsing as you squirted into his mouth — yes, squirting hard, liquids spraying over Benito’s face, soaking the sheets below. He drank everything, licking greedily, moaning like it was the best feast of his life.
You collapsed forward, panting, but he didn’t stop. “Más uno, mami… quiero más.” He gently turned you onto your side but kept his face between your legs, licking the remnants of your release while soothing you with soft kisses on your inner thighs. “You’re perfect… so fucking good.”
Minutes later, he positioned you again, this time with your back to him so you could see the mirror on the opposite wall. “Mira como eu te como,” he said, and you watched the reflection: his face buried in your ass, his tongue licking from your cunt down to your back entrance, exploring everything without shame.
He licked your ass slowly, his tongue circling your tight opening while his fingers went back to your cunt, fucking you in a steady rhythm. “You like that, right? My tongue in your ass mientras te dedillo.” You moaned loudly, grinding against him, the pleasure turning primal. He alternated: sucking your ass, then going back to your cunt, juices running down his beard and neck. The second orgasm came even stronger, your thighs squeezing around his head, but he held firm, licking until the very end.
Finally exhausted, you rolled to the side, pulling him up. Benito climbed over you, his face shining with your fluids, a satisfied smile on his lips. “See? Nothing got hurt. It was perfect.” He kissed you, your taste still on his tongue, and you cuddled together, knowing his obsession would only keep growing.
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Alright babes, that was it! Idk if i’m going to do a part 3 or no..tell me what you think. Xx 💋
this is an idea i've had in my brain for sooo long! just thought i'd put this out there. kind of interested in turning this into a thing?? give me y'alls thoughts please!!
BRENDON PARK who hasn't dated in a while. last time he did was when he bumped into a girl at a coffee shop a couple years ago. nothing serious came from it. they both ended it amicable before putting any labels, and since then, brendon didn't demonstrate any interest in dating.
BRENDON PARK who had friends from med school living in the east coast area. all of them had long-time girlfriends, fiancées, or wives with their perfect children. they always joked about brendon being the token bachelor, but he never took any serious offense to it. they meant it endearingly.
BRENDON PARK who's closest friend had shared with him about a friend of his girlfriend who was also the token bachelorette of her friend group. over a couple of beers, his buddy continued to find ways to persuade him back into the dating scene, specifically, to go on one date with this mystery woman.
BRENDON PARK who considered the offer for a week. he didn't feel any desperation to settle down into a domestic life, but he had his mom and dad to consider. every holiday together, they'd remind him they weren't getting younger and they at least wanted to live to see brendon marry an amazing women. so he texted his friend about the mystery woman, finally agreeing to one date.
BRENDON PARK who made the reservation to a new restaurant in town. all his friend told him was that you were a physical medicine & rehabilitation doctor. he didn't even send a photo of you, wanting to keep some air of mystery in brendon's life. so he sat there waiting at the table until a well dressed and smiley girl came in—you.
BRENDON PARK who was immediately drawn into your friendly personality. you were in a dress, not too fancy, but long enough to be elegant for every day use. his buddy had described you as the perfect opposite to him. from the way you smiled to the waiter and at him--he saw exactly what his friend meant.
BRENDON PARK who was rustier than he thought. all his friends considered him effortlessly charming, but sitting across from you, he found himself breaking a sweat. you were effortless with your stories and questions. he often found himself stalling before responding, too mesmerized by the cute, expectant smile on your face.
BRENDON PARK who didn't realize two hours had passed once the two of you finished desert. you had initiated the end of the night and brendon felt disappointment. he didn't want to go back to him lonely life; and although the two of you could sit for hours, engrossed in conversation, he was worried he hadn't made the best impression of himself. he had chuckled a couple times, wasn't as smiley as you, and he had picked up the check (which was the most redeeming gesture he could come up with to try and persuade without an illuminating personality).
BRENDON PARK who interchanged numbers with you before the two of you went your separate ways outside the restaurant. you left looking satisfied, but brendon still wasn't sure what to think. he stared obsessively at your contact page, debating how soon was too soon to set up a date.
BRENDON PARK who chickened out from sending a text, practically ghosting you for five days. when his buddy checked in about the date, brendon played it cool, while deep down he was dying to know what you thought of him. had he ruined his chances on one date alone?
BRENDON PARK who walked out of a surgery and into his office almost a week after the date to find a new message: i've been thinking about last week. how do you feel about a round two? ;)
⤷ // content: college! brendon park, introduction into medicine. //
he laid there on his bed, the phone still dangling from his hand, watching as the sun soon dipped and bathed his room in an ephemeral shade of red.
the pain in his leg was still present, tender. enough that it made him wince whenever it was stretched or was arched in the most minute but harshly incorrect of movements.
but thankfully, if not miraculously, it was still strong to at least carry half of his weight. allowing him to walk when needed.
and after receiving two sets of the most devastating of news, brendon decided he was in need of a walk.
to do something—anything—that would ease the pain that was his thoughts.
the reminder of what he had so clearly lost.
his scholarship. his sport. his girlfriend.
and decidedly, with his crutches in hand, he left his room and ventured for the library.
stopping only once when he was at those double, wooden doors.
now inside, he then seated himself in some lonesome corner with only a lampshade to keep him company.
and there, he read.
books about medicine, about anatomy—wondering to himself about a life as a doctor.
away from all that was now his previous life.
of football. of finance.
“found those books you wanted.”
he heard a voice said from ahead. a stack of books now balancing from your steadied arms as you approached.
and at that pleasant voice, brendon then looked up from his book and smiled.
the expression itself almost unnatural when shaped from his sharpened face: all rugged and weathered into something so jagged yet handsome.
but to him, the expression came to him so easily—as easy as it was to breathe.
“thank you.”
and as you handed him the book that was last on your arm.
your fingers then brushed along the inside of his wrist. a tantalizing, exciting path. enough to elicit a sudden, little shiver from down his still hurting spine.
and quietly, as you always have done in his company, you nodded with that same gentle smile.
walking back to your station as though nothing at all had happened. as though you had not just set his entire body on breathtaking fire.
and suddenly, it seemed as though something aligned in his new life. that no matter the hardships that were thrusted upon him—the sudden loss of his scholarship, the crushing reality that he will never play football again, and his girlfriend’s heartless and sudden absence.
brendon realized then that he could still make something of himself.
perhaps not as how he had envisioned it as before, but just as fulfilling as it could have been. if not more.
and when you returned once more, with another book he had asked for just to have an excuse to see you again.
he smiled.
asking if you would be willing to sit there with him for a moment. just a minute or two.
and to his surprise, you said yes.
wrote this sometime before midnight while i was talking with @fawnsweetie ! an absolutely amazing human being as well as an amazing writer! this was her original post.
18+ ⫶ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 ? 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 = 𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 .
the apartment walls are thin, and peter parker has just the trick up his sleeve… to muffle your moans with his webs. 🕸️ྀི
the apartment walls in queens weren’t exactly built the best — a wooden frame sheathed with drywall so weak, you could hear the sound of water running through your neighbors pipes whenever they’d touch their faucets. even a soft breeze outside could be heard whistling throughout the ridiculously flimsy walls, and unfortunately with thin walls… comes absolutely zero privacy.
but of course there’s no privacy, not whenever peter’s hips are driving flush against your ass. his sweaty palms clasped around the lock of your knees, pressing them towards your chest as the weight of his hips continuously drop against you — punching air out of your lungs from every desperate thrust he feeds into your sopping pussy.
“mmphmm, f-fuck, peter— feels s’ good!” you choke, throwing your head back against the pillow beneath your head. your arms hung from his neck, fingers engulfed in his silky, brunet curls as your soft cadences of pleasure get him going.
“i-i know, baby.” peter breathes against your skin, his face buried in the dip of your neck fanning warmth into dewy condensation. “i know, but we have to quiet down, remember?” he whispers with a struggled grit from the way your insides wrap his cock into snuggest tunnel he calls home.
“but i can’t, it feels t’ good!” you try to compromise, attempting to stifle your sweet moans and failing miserably — but how could you? how is it possible to quiet down whenever peter, himself is chasing that exact high that makes you both a little delirious in the feat of heat?
your toes curl, and hands claw down from his scalp to his shoulders making peter groan at the sting. “i know— hah- it feels it good…” he chokes, hips stammering in place. his cheeks are flushed, stray strands of hair glued to his forehead as sweat drips down every crevice of his sculpted muscles.
peter lifts his head, desperate eyes latched onto yours as his calloused hands snake up your waist to cradle your face in his hands.
his breathing is staggered — chest rising up and down at a quickened pace before dropping eye level, as if he were trying to tell you something telepathically before pressing his lips against yours. his mouth devouring every inch of your mouth as he repositions his hips while pulling away to replace his hand for his mouth.
“i’m so sorry, baby.” peter softens his voice, “i can’t stop because it feels too fuckin’ good to stop.” he whines.
and maybe that kiss alone was a telltale sign of what’s next to come as you feel the sensation of warmth spread across your mouth.
a stringy-like texture forming a tacky layer against your lips to silence any sound because as much as he loved your raw, sweet pathetic moans. he also knew that there’d be a neighborly complaint waiting just outside his door the next morning.
peter drives his hips forwards, thrusting straight to the hilt making your back arch off the mattress. your nails carving moon-shaped crescents into his flesh earning low grunts as a moan climbs through your throat with nowhere to go because your mouth is webbed shut, forcing you to swallow down a few muffled whimpers. “that’s better…” peter sighed, letting his subconscious thoughts slip past his lips.
this was the perfect solution. a little unethical? yes, but nonetheless perfect in his books because now — now, peter can finally immerse himself into pure lust that he’s strayed away from — the kind of lust where he doesn’t have to hold back, where he can completely lose his mind in pleasure without having to worry about a disturbance warning.
and it’s all thanks to his organically crafted webs.
ohhh frank holding your arms above your head so peter can eat you out for as long as he wants :(( them having you on your back and frankie being behind you, your head in his lap as he peers over you and looks down at peter absolutely devouring you.
peters tongue circling around your sensitive clit and then pushing it into your slit, groaning beneath you like he’d been starved. he’ll mumble things like, “taste so good for me..” and plead, “just one more pretty girl, gimme one more.” in between breaths! and his biceps will hold you down, arms wrapped around your thighs and meeting at your tummy, just laying there and not letting you move or struggle.
before, peter had made you came once with his mouth and his fingers, and that felt amazing as always, it left you panting and your eyes squeezed shut.. but as peter was looking between your legs to see the mess he made he saw your arousal drip down your hole and onto the bed, just riling him up and his mouth was latched back onto you. eyes widening, your hands flew to his head, grabbing at his hair from the stimulation. sobs of “s’too much peter I can’t..”, were falling from you lips but he wouldn’t stop licking :(( just lapping up your cum so pathetically
you were closing your legs around peters head, hands still tugging on his locks as you try to pry him off, only to be met with franks hands above you, gathering your hands in one and pulling them to his lap. you could only whine out at that, “f-frankie!” pulling your hands and writhing as your boyfriends make your body feel so hot and overwhelmed. “you gotta let pete get his fill of that sweet pussy baby, don’t be mean. be a good girl and cum for him again yeah?” frank would purr above you, his other hand reaching out to squeeze and pull at your tits.. and you thought that it would be just one more. hiccuping in relief when peter makes you shiver and orgasm on his tongue for the second time, that heat in your tummy going down.. only for his head to not move an inch after that. the loudest whimper comes from you when neither of the men move, peter still in between your legs with his arms locked around you and plunging his tongue into your sweet overstimulated cunt. and frank still holding your arms in one while he jerks off to the sight of you, cooing “oh you can take it sweetheart I know you can, bein so good.. keep your legs open for peter—im not telling you again baby.” offering you all this faux sympathy just so he could get to see you cum again :((
⊹ jack abbot makes you ride him while you finish fighting
warnings: 18+ minors dni! unprotected piv, established relationship, multiple positions ( spooning, prone, cowgirl ) fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, biting, jack jealousy-bating, jack provoking overandover again, angry sex!!!! lots of name-calling, hair pulling/tugging, light spanking, literally them using sex to take out frustration ⊹ notes: ANDDDDD POST BYE !!!!!! queued her
pettiness was your strong suit. it was – in fact – one of the reasons why jack had fallen for you in the first place, back when it had been aimed at anyone but him. he’d found it utterly delightful, his little menace that could hold grudges like a steel trap. it’d turned on him now.
you’d folded into the far side of the bed, facing the wall, your spine all stiff. you’d stormed in here twenty minutes ago mid-argument and claimed the bed like a fort, and you’d been lobbing grievances over your shoulder ever since, even as jack finished getting ready in the bathroom, even as the water shut off and his footsteps came and went.
“and another thing,” you announced in the direction of the wall. “if it were my work thing, you would not call that a date. you’d call that watching me work. which is what this is. so don’t act like you’re being romantic – ”
“are you done?”
you were, in fact, just getting started. if all went according to plan, you would’ve continued this after the event (you weren’t that petty) and been mad in his ear allllll night long, lullaby-ing him to sleep with a list of all his wrong choices; you would’ve named a problem for every hour in a sweet sing-song voice.
you made your first mistake by glancing over your shoulder at him; shirtless, slacks open and belt dangling, hair still slightly damp, standing in the doorway like he had all the time in the world and no fight to lose.
it was, frankly, a cheap shot to show up looking like that in the middle of an argument you were winning.
he raised a brow, then shook his head before he crossed the room in three long strides and climbed in behind you. his fingers went straight to the hem of the t-shirt you’d put on after finishing your makeup and pulled it over your head. you made a sound of protest, but lifted yourself up just slightly to let him do it. answer enough, you supposed.
he tossed it aside, and his hands were immediately on you, sliding down your ribs until one hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying, while the other dipped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and giving it a squeeze that made you inhale sharply.
“still mad?” he asked, leaning in for his mouth to brush against your shoulder blade. his hand kneaded at your hip, moving to the soft inside of your thigh.
“yes,” you said, but it came out weaker than before. “jack – ”
your words stopped as his hand moved from your hip to your breast, gathering the weight under his palms before his thumb came up to brush against your hardened peak.
“hello? cat got your tongue?” he said through a snort, pulling you flush against him, chin going into the curve of your neck. he ground his hips against you then, letting out a low breath through his mouth. he pushed a fist into the mattress by your ribs, caging you in. “what d’you wanna talk about?”
“i’m serious, jack,” you said, trying to force your voice even. “you wouldn’t call it a date.”
he hummed, fingers shamelessly sliding down as he said, “come on, baby. if you wanna keep talkin’ about this, you gotta do better than that.”
“do better – ” you let your neck turn back to face him, and he immediately tilted his head down, his tongue peeking out as he tried to bite back a grin. “ – my points are good enough.”
he ducked and caught your mouth, teeth nipping at your lip the same second his fingers slid under the lace. he smiled into the kiss, fingers running down your folds. you pulled away immediately, going to face the wall again.
“did this happen when you called me a smug asshole?” he circled the pad of his finger once over your clit, causing you to shudder slightly against him. “or when you decided i’m a liar?”
“jackass,” you muttered.
“real creative.” he shifted behind you, other hand going to shove his slacks further down his hips, freeing his cock. he pulled back slightly, and wrapped his hand around himself, stroking once – twice – before pressing the head of it to the curve of your ass. he exhaled once through his nose, intertwining his fingers through yours and moving them around him.
“i’ve been like this for the last twenty minutes,” he supplied casually, then groaned when your fingers instinctively moved around him.
“i’m still mad at you,” you said, but you were already moving your hand because you did also want him inside you. it’d been too long.
he rocked himself into your hand. “yeah – okay. let’s fix that, too, while we fix this.”
he moved to his side, lining himself up between your thighs before fitting himself in between. his fingers slid down your underwear again, fingers grazing over your folds before pressing down on your clit.
his fingers continued circling, while two others slid lower, the hard line of his cock pressing heavy against your ass each time he rocked forward.
“can’t call this a date,” you muttered, even as your breathing picked up.
“no?” he murmured. “this won’t do?” he nodded absentmindedly behind you, then his fingers came up just to slide down your underwear over the curve of your hips and down your thighs until the lace was sitting at your knees.
“two weeks – missed this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and immediately pressed back into you, sliding his cock fully between your thighs now, the head of him dragging through your folds with every roll of his hips.
“also, it is a date – i’m takin’ you – ” he said, angling his hips so his head notched against your entrance. “ – as my date.”
“it’s not.” you pushed your hips back against him.
he tutted softly, hand holding the base of him as he pressed his tip against you, just enough to make you feel the pressure of the stretch starting, then pulled back.
“impatient,” he murmured, doing it again.
“we don’t have time,” you shot back. “just put it in – ”
“yes, ma’am,” he breathed out, amused, and angled himself to sink into you with one slow, sharp push. his entire body went rigid the second he bottomed out, a groan rumbling in his chest as the stretch hit you.
a broken sound came out of your throat before you could swallow it, after two weeks of nothing. your walls instinctively clenched around him, and his grip on your hip went bruising-tight.
“fuck, been so empty haven’t you?” his forehead dropped to your shoulder blade. “sorry, sweetheart. forgot you just needed me like this.”
you tried to glare, albeit at the wall, but your hips pushed back to take the last inch of him. “shut up.”
he just laughed softly, already pulling back to go again. “i know i’ve been thinkin’ about this every night.”
your teeth grit together to hold back the moan, your fingers twisted into the sheets as your body clenched around him on instinct, spine arching even while you fought to stay rigid.
“so mad at me – shit, huh?” his fingers came up with some tremor to your shoulders, pulling you into him even further as he slid in. “just ‘cause you missed this, baby? should’ve asked hours ago instead of arguin’ with me about tonight.”
your hips moved back to bury him to the hilt, causing his palm to tighten on your shoulder with a groan. “no, i missed you,” you said sharply. “you, asshole.”
his breath shuddered, and you felt him nod against your skin. “makin’ such sweet words sound so mean.”
he punctuated his words by moving his hand down to your spine and shoving you forward, forcing your chest flat against the mattress. he followed you down, pinning you completely – chest-to-back, hips locked tight against your ass – prone. his knee nudged yours wider, letting him sink even deeper on the next stroke.
he blew out a sharp, deliberate breath into your ear. “can’t run that mouth so easy when i’ve got you like this, can you?”
“are you trying to shut me – ” you started, words coming out into the pillow.
“huh?” he dipped his head to the side to meet your smushed face, brows rising in amusement. his forearms came up to rest at the curve of the back of your neck. “sayin’ something?”
you twisted just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, still trying to form the argument – something about obligations and dates and missing him so much – but the words stayed half-formed when he pointedly drove in particularly deep and your breath left you in a sharp, broken sound.
he watched your face with a small, smug smile, not slowing.
“yeahhh, that’s what i thought,” he muttered and kept fucking you. his mouth brushed the shell of your ear. “poor thing, can’t even finish a sentence. needed this, huh?”
“i did not – ”
“mhm, lying now, too – ” his forearm flexed, fingers coming out to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face. “thought i was the liar.”
“don’t touch me,” you muttered, turning your face into the pillow again.
“stop squeezing me so tight then,” he said through a rough pant, thrusting up once meanly.
“i’m not kidding – ” you said, firmer now. “it was a – fuck – shit thing for you to do.”
“mhm.”
“i’m not being unreasonable.” you had to grit your teeth together when one of his palm came down to knead the side of your hips. “a date is you and me – your being a shit boyfriend when i haven’t – ”
your words cut off with a sharp gasp as he rolled the two of you in one irritated motion, keeping himself buried as he put you on top. his hands clamped hard on your hips, pushing you down until you were seated fully on his cock.
the sudden shift punched the air from your lungs, and before you could steady yourself, he was already driving up into you.
“jesus, you just can’t let up,” he muttered, eyes locked on where you were taking him. “wanna look at you ride me while you keep running that mouth.”
“getting tired, old man?” you raised a brow.
he shook his head softly, fingers reaching out to rub over your clit.
“old man, shit boyfriend – m’fucking you and letting you argue.” he pressed a harder circle, pausing only to come down on your ass in a sharp slap suddenly, making you gasp. “giving you everything you need at once, and i’m a shit boyfriend.”
he reached out to press his palm flat just below your navel.
“can’t take me on a date – ” you used his chest to pull yourself up, then come down, “ – though.”
his eyes flicked up to your face with a small, strained smirk as his fingers pressed down firmer on your stomach.
“it is a date,” he said, as he drove up hard to meet you on the next downward slide. his other palm flexed on your hip to keep you down as he pushed up even further. “fuckin’ – nice event. you. me. dressed up.” he took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as your nails dug into his chest. “sounds like a damn date to me.”
“it’s work,” you shot back. “you’re just calling it a date so you don’t have to feel bad about cancelling.”
“i didn’t cancel – anything.” his hand came up to push into your hair, pulling your face closer. “i invited you. you want me to leave you home, huh?” his jaw was tight as he tugged your hair back slightly. “things happen. plans change.”
“i don’t want to watch you work, i want to spend time with you,” you managed, surprised by how even your voice came out, considering.
“christ – ” he used the grip on your hair to keep you close, foreheads nearly touching. “actin’ like i signed us up for a week in the desert. it’s dinner. you don’t wanna go?”
he leaned to press your forehead against his. “don’t. imagine alllll the women who’ll try to talk to me, huh?”
“asshole,” you breathed out, nails digging into his shoulders now as you lifted and dropped again. “asshole.”
he snorted through his nose, tugging once on your hair before letting go, leaning back down onto the pillow. “keep ‘em coming, baby. keep punishin’ me for havin’ a job while you’re sittin’ on my cock.”
his hand went to your thigh, spreading on wider so he could push up even deeper.
“you want time with me?” he muttered. “this is time. right now. i’m in you. you’re on me, and you’re still finding ways to be pissed.”
he tilted his chin to catch your lips between his teeth. “you want me to yourself at dinner? i’ll fuck you in the bathroom if you want that, too.”
“this isn’t the same and you know it.”
“isn’t it?” he sat up further, both arms going around your back so your chests were flush. “because from where i’m at, i’ve got my girl riding me, calling me names, and still taking inch like she’s been starving for it. feels pretty damn close to spending time together.”
“principle – ” you tried to say, words cutting off as your hands got distracted to tug at the short hairs at the nape of his neck harshly.
“principle’s pretty shit when i can feel you’re close,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours.
“yeahhh,” he breathed out, feeling you clench on him as your thighs started to shake. “we’ve got ten minutes and if you wanna finish this fight, you finish it on my cock.”
“won’t make it better,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to push through the building pressure – chasing it, pushing it away. “you still – jack – made this whole thing about you – ”
your sentence broke off into a sharp, helpless moan as the orgasm crashed into you. jack didn’t let up, if anything he held you down tighter, hips rutting up against you as you came.
his eyes were trained to your face, pupils thoroughly darkened. “aw, i’m sorry,” he cooed, fingers coming up to brush the hair off your face. “you were in the middle of tellin’ me off. don’t let me interrupt you.”
you opened your mouth to keep going, voice still shaky, and jack’s arms slid up your back to pull you down flush against his chest, crushing you into him so your face was buried in his chest.
“please finish what you were saying,” he muttered against your ear, one forearm caging you in. he let out a soft snort when you only whimpered, then added, “i’ll help. you were saying i was making this whole thing about myself.”
“you always – always do this. make everything about you and then act like i’m being difficult,” you – well, lied.
jack groaned low at your words, only spurred on even more.
“i do? y’really think so?” he mused, almost conversationally. his hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit and pressing there, holding the pressure while driving up in one-timed strokes that made you gasp. “i make everything about me?”
“you do – ” you started, but the words dissolved when he pressed his palm flat against your lower belly, the pressure from both angles sudden and overwhelming, making everything tighten impossibly.
you groaned into his neck, and he tilted his face to the side to press his lips along your hairline.
“yeahhh, clearly i do.” he pressed a kiss to your ear, almost tender. “it’ll make me feel better to know you’re sittin’ all mad throughout the dinner you don’t wanna go to filled with me.”
eyes off me, hands on you
nsfw, mdni, you jerk off jack for a selfish, albeit hilarious reason...
Jack didn't think this was how he'd get to relaxing after a long shift. The room glows from the TV screen with your favorite movie of all time: Ratatouille. You're forcing him to watch it.
Kay. "Forcing" is an exaggeration. But you've manipulated him, haven't you, kiddo? Fucking slut.
He shouldn't have put jerking him off as a tactic past you.
"Watch the fucking rats cook, Jack."
There's something hilarious about how adamant you are with sharing your favorite film—of course, it's a kid's one—with him. But he can't really focus on that when your fingers are wrapped tight around his shaft, slick with the spit you pelleted onto him moments ago. You pump fiercely and sloppily.
Up-down, twist at the crown, then with the foreskin. Your thumb smears his pre-cum over his slit.
Your method, brutal and slutty as all hell, are designed to fry his brain into obedience.
Alright, Sleepy. He'll let you take over this time.
"Are you watching?"
Your free hand fists his grey-peppered hair to yank his head forward. His hips buck without will, and a low groan rips from his throat as your palm grounds his sensitive underside.
Ryan—Remy...the fucking rat scampers across the counter onscreen, but Jack's eyes flick to where he got his hands slapped. To your tits, where he pulled on your tank top and where they spilled out.
"Ah—fuck, kid—"
You're smart enough to catch him and as punishment, apparently, you slow to a torturous squeeze at his base.
"Eyes off me. This is my film. You get off while you watch, not instead. Okay, Daddy?"
Jack whimpers quiet.
"Mmhm."
Okay, kiddo.
You must be breezing hard from the buzz of power. That's how he gets with you. He can feel your cunt clenching empty under your shorts, right where you're settled on his thigh.
"Baby, let me just—"
His head dips to nuzzle your neck, lips brushing for a little kiss.
"No!"
Wrong move.
"Fuck! Fuck, kid—"
Your hand clamps harder, stroking wildly now. Your fast pumps sound out with wet slaps as his foreskin rolls.
"Focus, or I stop."
His cock throbs in your fist, veins bulging and tip weeping. He's gonna fucking die, Sleepy. He's gonna—
Jack's breath hitches ragged and his body trembles. He moans soft.
"Sorry, sorry...sorries."
The apology comes out low and meek as he forces his gaze to the TV. Yeah.
Why wouldn't he find a way to be more pathetic about the resentfully perfect woman who was in diapers when he was almost thirty? The woman with pink, cheap shoes he's been meaning to replace.
"Sorry, baby. Daddy's watching."
You smile, rewarding Jack with a thumb circling his frenulum. His whimpers have soaked you from core to cunt.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
"Jesus—"
As aching as your thumb is, flicking against Jack's frenulum is still a reward. So, you resume pumping, full strokes from base to head with your wrists snapping to worsen the gripping flare.
"Jack!"
Your grip freezes mid-pull when he tries to lean in again, lips grazing your collarbone.
Daddy's so fucking desperate. How beautiful it is to have Jack Abbot so in want of you?
"What'd I say? Movie. Eyes front."
You decide to edge him with two lazy pumps before halting. You squeeze till he whines low.
"Sorries."
Jack's gruff voice cracks tiny. He stares pretty obediently at the screen. See? Sometimes rough love works. Jackie's submitted, hips twitching helpless into your still hand.
"...Just watch Linguini fuck up the soup. For me, please?"
Your hand's a blur when you dive back in. Jack's moans stayed hushed with his cock swelling even fatter, almost as much as your pride swells when you see his sight is glued to the screen.
"Unh...unh, I like the...unh—the animation."
You lean close with your breath hot at his ear. Your other palm cups his balls, just to tug and love and roll.
The way your twists glide along his cock, the way Jack pants shallow, you know he'll shatter soon, and you'll take to watching him cleaning up with pretty ropes of cum that's bound to splatter all over. His stomach. His thighs. Your hands.
Maybe he'll have a sober enough head to make you clean his cock and belly up with your tongue, but that's only if he gets through the rest of the movie!
no one can convince me that jack abbot isn't a tits man - sorry not sorry !!
word count: 1.3k
cw: somno, nipple play, breast fucking // MDNI // 18+
jack doesn't remember the last time he sat down. tonight had been an exceptionally busy night shift - he knows you'd blame it on the moon or fuckin' jupiter's metrograde or whatever, but honestly he thinks winter just brings out the crazies.
there'd been a guy with an icicle impaled somewhere it really shouldn't be after he had ignored the cardinal rule - only used objects with a flared base - and had come in with a burning red face and a refusal to be treated by any of jack's female colleagues. jack had half a mind to send him home and tell him to wait it out until it melted but, alas, practicing medicine is what pays the bills (he also was not willing to sacrifice his patient satisfaction scores over improper temperature play technique - not when he was on a winning streak on the scoreboard kept in the breakroom).
another two guys had come in, both of them on the verge of heatstroke after spending all day in a crowded mall, entertaining holiday customers whilst dressed in a two-man rudolph the reindeer costume. jack had watched ellis nearly fall on her face after the aforementioned reindeer costume had been abandoned near the nurses station.
so, it's safe to say jack was more than looking forward to collapsing into his own bed next to you. all shift, he'd longed for the softness and warmth he knew he'd find waiting for him even it was for only an hour before you had to start getting ready for your own shift.
for as much as jack hated the emergency room during winter, he also loved that it meant you slept in barely anything; jack had invested in the best home heating systems money could buy after you'd complained one winter that your feet were cold getting out of bed in a morning.
that left you able to sleep in the tiny tank tops and sleep shorts you loved to wear year round (and that jack very much appreciated). not only were the pyjamas you chose soft on jack's skin and easy on the eye, they also tended to shift awkwardly in your sleep. you'd always been a squirmer in your sleep, kicking off the duvet and pulling up the bottom sheet, half the time ending up on the complete other side of the bed when you woke up. this also meant that you tended to wake up with one tit hanging out of your tank tops, the straps and fabric loosened with time and wear.
so, when jack pushes through your bedroom door after his shift from festive hell and he spots you sprawled on your back, tits and belly hanging out of your tiny pyjama top, he just can't help himself. a glance at the glowing red numbers of the alarm clock show him that it's around the time your work alarm will be going off anyways and he figures you won't mind being woken up this way.
once his scrubs are stripped and his prosthesis is propped by the nightstand, he clambers onto the bed, shoving the billowing duvet off of your hips, and straddling the soft skin of your stomach. your face barely moves in your sleep, lips and nose twitching in the way that reminds jack of a sweet bunny, so jack moves to pull your vest down to sit under your tits, completing baring the plush skin to him. without hesitation, jack spits on one of his palms and begins to grope at you, your nipples hardening instantly at the constrast and manipulation. jack thinks he could spend hours like this- not even necessarily getting either of you off, just fondling and pulling and squeezing. it's mesmorising to him: the way the skin gives so easily under his ministrations, the way it glistens under the low lamp light with his spit, the warmth you constantly seem to emit like his own snugglebug.
with the same spit-slick palm, jack reaches to grasp his cock and give two short pumps, having neglected himself thus far to simply play with you. checking once again that you're still asleep, jack lowers himself further to your chest, his cock sitting between your breasts. he groans at the sight and feel of your skin touching him, the heavy tip of his cock just and so reaching the hollow of your throat, so close to your lips propped open in sleep.
gently, he takes one breat in each hand, pushing them together to envelop his cock, thumbs strumming your nipples absentmindedly. immediately, he's breathing heavier. you're so warm and soft and slick. his hips begin a gentle pace, not yet wanting to wake you. he wants to savor the feeling of your prone body - how he can manipulate it with his own hands whilst you sleep. how your eyebrows tighten ever so slightly, as if you are eternally aware of jack's presence even in the throws of slumber.
the pace of jack's thrusts gradually increases until he's mimicking the usual movements he uses on your slick pussy. he spits once again onto your chest, making the slide of his shaft between your warm and wet skin even easier, and throws his head back at the feeling. this is what he'd been craving; warmth, softness, pleasure, his woman.
jack is so in tune with your body that he immediately picks up on the changing of your breathing. that deep groaning breath you wake with every morning and the short breath you take through your nose when you realise what jack is doing to you. he meets your eyes, both hooded and lazy- jack's with pleasure, yours with the lingering veil of slumber- and, though no words are exchanged between you, you know his eyes are speaking to you. i love you, you feel so good, thank you.
wordlessly, you point your chin down and open your sleep-swollen lips, tongue just and so poking out enough to catch the leaking head of jack's cock each time he thrusts up. he whines in pleasure, eyebrows meeting as he looks at you with such lust and admiration.
he breaths shorten with each thrust, the skin on his chest and face turning the faintest shade of scarlet as he exerts himself. your hands come up to each of his on your tits, holding them with him. your lips purse as though giving a kiss to his tip each time he meets them and that's what sends him over the edge, both his thrusts and his moans stuttering as he comes over the skkin of your chest, splattering up your neck and across your chin.
when he slows his hips, he has to swallow thickly at the sight of his come collecting betwene your tits and in the hollow of your throat, your nipples sticky and coated in him.
he grips the headboard, knuckles clenching and breathing laboured as looks down at you with so much love, "mornin', bunny"
you giggle sleepily and jut your tongue out to lick your lips, collecting as much of his cum as you can. the thick air between you is pierced by the shrill sound of your alarm and jack immediately reaches out a hand to slam it off.
"good morning to you too, handsome."
jack shuffles gently off of your chest, his softened dick now tucked back into his boxers. wordlessly he reaches under the skewed fabric of your sleep shorts and finds you so sticky and slick it would make his dick harden immediately again if he was twenty years younger, "mmm, have i got time to take care of this for you, doll?"
your eyebrows pinch at the feeling of his thick fingers, "yeah, jackie. you've got time."
⋆˙⟡ JACK ABBOT witnesses a new side to his girlfriend after her bra breaks
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI big boobed!reader, curvy/plus-sized!reader implied, "i'll pay for it", teasing, dirty talk, breast & nipple play, dry humping, mentions of previous smutty time, kinda brat!reader ? she's annoyed, pet names (doll, honey, baby, pretty girl), swearing, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, dual pov, (1.9k wc)
layout inspired by my angel @mariasont
MASTERLIST
── ⋆˙⟡
Jack wasn't prepared for his front door slamming just before eight pm on his night off. And he definitely wasn't expecting the annoyed groan reverberating off the walls as you stomped your way to the lounge. It was a stark contrast to the soft humming he was usually graced with the second you walked through his door.
He sat up straighter, muting the TV to give you his undivided attention. You barely glanced his way as you walked through the threshold, and he couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising at the sight of you.
Your grey scrub top was slightly twisted and riding up, exposing a sliver of your stomach that he itched to trace. A cute pout had taken your face hostage—your lower lip jutting out and brows furrowed, making it difficult for him to suppress a smile. All humour vanished as his eyes fell to your chest; your full breasts hanging without support, pebbled nipples calling for his mouth. The tightening of his pants was immediate, along with the jealous fire that heated him from the inside out—who else had seen you in this state?
It was a losing battle for him as he tried to keep his eyes off the way your boobs bounced as you walked towards him. Honestly, he didn't know why he even bothered.
You collapsed onto the couch next to him with a huff, knocking his crutches to the floor as you ripped your bag off your shoulder with more force than necessary.
Jack had never seen you like this. In the four months you had been dating, he'd seen you cry more times than he could count—videos of dogs reuniting with their owners were your kryptonite—and had seen you lose your cool less than a handful of times. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of trepidation stepping into this unknown territory.
Before he could start running through any events or anniversaries he may have missed, you found your rightful place—wrapping your arms around his right one, curling your body into his side with a sigh. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes as he inhaled your comforting scent.
Some of the tension eased from your shoulders, your body conditioned to relax in Jack's presence. He rested his cheek atop your head, his affection diluting the annoyance thrumming through your veins.
"What's going on, doll?"
"My bra broke. Right at the start of my shift." You grumbled, nuzzling further into his warmth.
"Okay," he dragged out hesitantly. "That's annoying."
"Yeah, you could say that," you huffed. "The wire was digging into my skin for twelve hours straight," you whined, resembling a petulant child. "I could feel it every time I moved. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?"
He lifted his head off of yours, tilting your chin up to shoot you a look. You had massaged his leg enough to know that was a stupid question.
"Right, sorry, don't answer that." One hand moved from clutching his bicep to his right thigh, tracing patterns with your index finger. You let out another sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "It was my last decent one. Now I only have sports bras that aren't even near the realm of sexy."
"So just buy a new one."
Jack regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, his body tensing and eyes squeezing shut.
Your annoyance returned tenfold. You ripped away from his body, levelling him with a scolding glare.
"Do you know how expensive bras are, Jack?" You started, diving into a gesticulating monologue. "Especially if you've got big boobs—it's just capitalism once again profiting off of women's struggles! The bigger you are the more expensive everything is because they're trying to make us feel bad—"
"Honey," Jack tried, his voice dropping to the authoritative tone that never failed to make your ears perk up like an obedient puppy. Well, that never failed until now.
You pressed a finger into his stupidly beefy chest. "You're a man, you don't get to speak right now."
He held his hands up in surrender, his dick twitching from you giving him attitude—at the thought of fucking it out of you. An interesting revelation that he was looking forward to exploring later.
You removed your finger, continuing your rant. "No bra ever fits right—unless you go to a boutique and spend at least three hundred dollars on a custom made one."
Jack was drawn in by the fire in your eyes, the outrage and passion you were exuding making you even more beautiful.
"The amount of money I waste on fabric that barely does the job it's meant to do is insane. At this point it'd be fucking cheaper to get a breast reduction." You fell back against the couch, your chest heaving slightly from your tirade.
He rested an arm over your shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles on your upper arm. "You're not getting a breast reduction."
A searing glare burned the side of his face. "Oh, so now you're telling me what I can and can't do to my body?"
A thrill raced down Jack's spine—another side effect of your newfound attitude.
"No," he said placatingly. "I'm just remembering the conversation we had last week." His mouth ticked up with the beginnings of a smirk. "Y'know, the one after I made you look at yourself in the mirror while you came on my cock."
The hand on your arm slid away slowly, featherlight fingers caressing across your chest before making their way to your nipple, circling the pert bud lazily. Your breath stuttered, a whine lodging itself in your throat from your boyfriend's touch.
He dipped his head towards you, his husky baritone filling your ear as his lips brushed along the sensitive skin. "You remember how good you looked, baby? Couldn't stop staring at yourself, could you?" He tugged your earlobe between his teeth. "Looked like a fucking goddess—you always do."
Heat blossomed across every inch of your body, a familiar insatiable need jolting your core at the memory. You had been entranced by the image in the mirror—lidded, glazed eyes staring back at you, Jack's hand around your throat keeping your attention secured on your reflection, your tits bouncing as he drilled into you from behind.
Jack's keen eyes caught the way your plush thighs squeezed together, how your chest was rapidly rising and falling beneath his hand.
"You've made your point," you whispered, lust thwarting your annoyance.
He hummed, pressing faint kisses along your jaw. His free hand trailed up your thigh—a fingertip tracing the seam of your pants inducing a shiver. "I'll pay for it, for the bras. I'll buy you a whole closet full of 'em."
"Okay," you relented, suspicion rising in Jack at your quick response.
He moved his head away from yours, an eyebrow quirking up and deepening his wrinkles. "…That's what you wanted all along, isn't it?"
"No," you murmured, pressing your face into his bicep. He would've believed you if it wasn't for the smile he could feel stretching against his skin.
"Uh-huh, sure."
He grabbed your chin, pulling your face away from your hiding spot and seeing the twinkle in your eyes instantly. He huffed a laugh, leaning in to kiss you softly.
"You know you could've just asked," he mumbled against your lips, teasingly nipping your bottom lip.
A giggle slipped from your mouth into his. "Where's the fun in that?"
"So you admit this was all just an act." He grasped your hips, effortlessly lifting you to straddle his lap. You gasped out at the bulge pressing against your core. "You think threatening to take these away from me is funny?" His hands drifted from your hips, creeping underneath your top and up your sides until they cupped your heavy breasts.
You whimpered at his calloused fingers stroking and pulling; one of them brushing along the tender, irritated patch the wire from your bra had left behind.
Jack noticed the spot straight away—he had every inch of your skin memorised, his fingers knowing your body better than your own. "Let's look at the damage, hmm? Can't have my pretty girl hurting."
You nodded, your brain already turned to mush from his light teasing.
He moved his hands back down your body to reach the hem of your scrub top—a whine leaping out of you from the brief loss of his touch. He lifted your top over your head, moaning once your tits were on full display for him.
He swore he died and went to heaven whenever he saw you like this—sat prettily on his lap, hazy eyes fluttering, full breasts begging for his hands and mouth. He revelled in how your hips would grind against his absentmindedly; his pretty, needy girl desperate for her silver fox from the smallest touch. Your unyielding desire did wonders for his ego.
He brought his hands back up, relishing the sight of your tits overflowing in his large hands. Your eyelids drooped and your lips parted, breathy sighs falling from them. His thumb moved to brush along the tender spot on the side of your boob.
"Poor thing," he muttered, leaning forward to press light kisses to the irritated skin. "Won't happen ever again—not while you're mine." Molten gold eyes stared into yours. "And you're always going to be mine."
His tongue licked the sensitive skin before he blew cold air on it, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body with a gasp slicing the air. Your hips rocked harder against his, your core growing wetter with every touch.
He covered your boob in kisses and spit, sucking and biting to leave behind marks he adored—his marks. His rough hand pawed at your other tit, pulling and twisting the nipple—making you mewl above him, your hips moving faster as fire raced down to your pussy, igniting embers along the way.
His mouth latched onto your neglected nipple, his tongue drawing circles around it and sucking harshly. You let out unabashed moans, his own starting to vibrate against your skin and through your chest. He was rock hard beneath your hips, precum leaking into his boxers as your movements grew frantic. He could feel the flutter of your pussy, the heartbeat in your clit, even through your layers of clothes.
His free hand moved to your ass, giving it a smack. Your responding yelp dissolved into a moan, your hips jerking forward and finding the perfect position that had your clit pressing directly onto his bulge.
He pulled his head away from your chest, admiring his perfect girl using him for her pleasure. He wanted to spend the rest of his life worshipping at your altar—to bask in your divineness until his dying breath.
His hand trailed up from your breast to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, catching a bit of drool. God, he loved how he could unravel you just as you did him.
But before he could help you reach your release, he needed to remind you of something—to correct a statement you made earlier, one that had been eating away at him.
He tilted your head until your unfocused eyes meet his—his cock jumping at how utterly fucked you looked from a bit of dry humping.
"Let's get one thing straight, doll. The lace and bows are nice, but they're not what are sexy. That's all you, baby."
── ⋆˙⟡
a/n: can you guys tell one of my bras broke today. i honestly don't even know what this mess is. am loving the girlies popping off with big boobed blurbs lately tho 😌
clark kent who is so ridiculously down bad for using a rabbit on you —!! (18+)
at this point, you’re convinced that he’s obsessed with that little odd-shaped thing of silicone. the infatuation is typically at its height when he spoils you, wanting you babbling and pliant before he fucks you good.
“please,” you whimper, ducking your scorching face into his tense neck. warm sunshine and the musk of oakmoss invades your senses, and you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave of pleasure blindsides you. “can’t take it, clark.”
you’re straddling his lap, legs spread wide on either side of his strong, unmoving hips, cunt swallowing the knob of vibrating silicone while the rabbit plays with your too-sensitive clit.
sparks fly up your spine again as clark presses a hand to your lower back, pushing at the burn in your thighs and making the head of the dildo nudge against an impossible spot.
“what do you mean?” he asks, and you can hear the cheeky fucking smile on his dopey face. “you’re taking it just fine.”
(bastard, bastard, bastard.)
you’ve already come once on his tongue, and twice more with the rabbit making your hips jump and arousal wet the soft, quivering insides of your thighs until they glistened.
he’s only got his underwear on, dick visibly straining at the precum-dampened cotton. your nails don’t even make divots as you scrape them down his chest, through the trimmed wires of his happy trail.
you palm the thick, searing heat of him, needy and not at all firmly, for your fingers tremble with tiny shocks of overstimulation whenever you rock your hips back so the head catches on that sweet spot that makes you moan.
“oh, honey, you’re hardly doing it with conviction,” clark teases, though you know he’s biting back a groan. serves him right, not letting you stray from orgasm while he sits under you, neglected.
grinding up, the peak of his tent presses hard against your raw clit, still helpless to the onslaught of vibrations from the rabbit. you gasp, brow furrowing, arching deeper to chase the sticky heat of his clothed cock again.
clark releases a heady moan, tilting his head so that his plush lips pant straight into your ear. “that’s it, sweetheart…”
you can feel yourself barreling towards cumming again, pleasure burrowing at the base of your spine, stomach coiling with every noise that escapes his mouth.
clark’s low whimpers grow in frequency as you begin to chase your fourth orgasm, as the low hum of the vibration meshes with the filthy schlick noises from your soaked pussy that echo in his bedroom, as you fuck yourself desperately on the toy like you’re convincing yourself that it’s really his cock.
“fuck, fuck, clark—” you choke on a gasp, rubbing your clit (still wrapped in the ears of the rabbit) against his erection “—please, need you inside—”
your head spins, and suddenly you’re panting with your back against the sheets, breaths colored with a whine at the loss of stimulation.
you don’t have to wait for long, because before you know it, clark’s tossing the last scrap of fabric away and dwarfing the toy in his stupidly big hands.
just as the smooth, hot head of his cock meets your fluttering folds, he presses the dildo end to your clit, tapping warm silicone against your twitching bundle of nerves before switching the vibration back on.
his voice rumbles from above, thick with desire and tired of waiting. “i’m holding it here, baby. ‘s not going anywhere, even when i’m inside.”
Y'all I felt like Stephanie Meyer the way this came to me in a dream (most of it anyways). SOoo not so much plot, mostly porn <3
masterlist
warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, P.I.V. (no protection, wrap it up irl!), dry humping/grinding, praise kink, riding, size difference (if you squint).
The rain was pounding on the windows as you stirred the sauce in with the pasta. Jack hummed on the other side of the kitchen. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over his figure as he pulled plates out of the cupboards and took a large Tupperware container out from one of his drawers. The broad line of his shoulders, his arms and how they flexed with every movement.
He had been begging and craving your dish since the Thanksgiving potluck the ED had hosted. He had twirled his fork, collecting as much of it as he could before scarfing it down. Cheeks full of pasta, he had closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.
“This…” he had said, pointing the fork at you. “You have to teach me how to make this.”
Fast forward a month or so, and here you were, in his kitchen cooking away.
“Okay, I just need to plate this and we’re all set,” you told him, reaching for the plates in his hands.
Your fingers grazed his, warm against the porcelain. Neither of you pulled away immediately. The blood in your veins pumped just a little faster as you looked up, catching the heavy, deliberate way his dark eyes tracked down to your lips before sliding back up to meet your gaze.
You put a generous amount of pasta in your bowls, handing them back to Jack as he set them on the counter.
“Maybe if your career as a desk clerk doesn’t pan out, you should become a chef,” he said, shoving a fork into the mountain of pasta.
“I’ll make sure to have you test out all of my new dishes when I do,” you giggled.
You placed the blender cup with the extra sauce on the corner of the counter, moving to grab another Tupperware container from where you saw Jack grab one. Swirling around, you reached for the blender cup.
Your fingers glided into the handle, tightening around the plastic before picking it up. The plastic snapped.
The cup fell to the ground, the sauce spilling from it, splattering over the tile, soaking straight through your socks and jeans.
“Shit, Abbott—” you said as you tried to move. The mess seemed to rage with a sudden vengeance as it decided to bring you down, sweeping your feet out from under you. You landed with a thud, before slipping again as you tried to scramble up, warm sauce coating the ends of your hair and the back of your shirt.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathed, rushing toward you. He didn't see the slick tile in time, his socks losing traction as he slid down to join you on the floor, getting equally covered in the mess.
His prosthetic hit the tile with a heavy, metallic thunk as he landed beside you.
There was a beat of stunned silence as you locked eyes, both of you breathing heavily, covered in mess. His mouth hung open in shock, his bottom lip twitching before a loud, howling laugh burst from his chest. The sound was so infectious it pulled a breathless laugh from your throat, too.
“Ugh, okay,” Jack wheezed, unbuckling the suspension sleeve of his leg and setting the damp prosthetic aside so he could shift onto his good knee. He rubbed his fingers together looking at the green sauce on his hands. “I’ll get you a change of clothes and you can use the guest bathroom down the hall. There’s fresh towels and anything you need in the cupboard.”
You nodded, slowly picking yourself off the slick tile and placing the broken cup in the sink.
You made your way past the ruined kitchen, pulling off your soaked socks before inching toward the bathroom.
The hot water easily washed the coriander sauce out of your hair and off your skin. You lathered yourself with Abbott’s fancy soap, breathing in its perfume. You rinsed off, stepping out to wrap the fluffy guest towel around you. You turned in the bathroom before you realized: the clothes – you never went to grab them.
Tucking the edge of the towel tighter over your chest, you padded down the hallway, knocking at Jack’s door before peeking your head in.
“Jack?” you called out, voice hesitant. “Can I quickly come in? I forgot to grab your clothes.”
“Yeah, come in.” His voice came through the door, thick and quiet.
He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, having already washed up himself. His carbon-fiber prosthetic rested securely against the nightstand, leaving the bare, smooth skin of his right leg ending just below the knee exposed in the dim light. There was a towel bunched up in his hands as he pressed it into his curls. He was wearing nothing but a dark t-shirt and boxers, his back turned to you as he dried off. The bare skin of his legs and the fabric hanging on his frame stopped the breath right in your throat.
Set out neatly on the mattress right beside him was a folded hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.
He lowered the towel, eyes sweeping over you. He took in your bare shoulders, damp hair, the lone bead of water still clinging to your exposed skin. The short towel was just barely covering you.
Your eyes shifted down toward the floor as you turned your back to him, a heat erupting in your chest. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your forgotten clothes, damp hands shaking ever so slightly as you pulled them off the bed.
You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. It pounded as Jack shifted closer, heat radiating from his chest. You were facing away from him, his warmth spreading slowly over the skin of your exposed back as he anchored himself behind you.
The want, the need between you had always been there. Untouched, unspoken as you danced around each other, too afraid to say anything.
His breath trailed down your back as he moved even closer. He reached out, his thumb dragging over your arm, collecting the droplets of water left behind by the towel.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, his words sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed to the slope of your neck and shoulder. They pulled a sigh from your mouth as you relented, leaning back into Jack’s chest. Your head lulled to the side, giving him more space to map out your skin.
“Jack,” you breathed, fingers releasing the clothes and letting them drop to the floor. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the short towel wrapped around you, the only fragile thing separating you from Jack, who was wearing nothing but a dark t-shirt and boxers.
You turned, feeling your pulse thrumming in your cheeks. You were nose to nose. From this distance, you could see everything. His smile lines, the freckles that adorned his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes.
His fingers reached up to card gently through your hair, stopping at the crown to angle your head up slightly. His nose trailed up your cheek, only stopping when his lips were hovering just in front of yours. He lingered there for a moment, tongue darting out experimentally as if trying to test you. Taste you.
The anticipation pushed you toward him, your mouth meeting his. Your arms snaked around his neck as his hands slid down to your waist, shifting you back onto the center of the bed as you felt the towel slip loose around you. The air was cold, goosebumps erupting across your skin.
He hovered over you, hands digging into the mattress around your head. His mouth trailed down between the valley of your breasts before wrapping his lips around one sensitive peak. You gasped at the feeling, fingers snaking into his salt and pepper hair.
Your knees pulled up, caging him against you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hips stuttered forward and suddenly you could feel all of him through the thin fabric of his boxers.
“Shit—” you croaked as Jack turned you both over, your hips landing directly on top of his. You straddled his hips, his cock pulsating in his underwear, right under you. A noise ripped out of your throat at the sensation, stilling Jack temporarily.
His hands grasped firmly onto your hips, a low whine escaping his throat as he dragged you over his hardened length. Pre-cum began to seep through the thin fabric as he guided your movements. You swiveled your hips, your clit catching lightly over the head of his tip.
You continued shifting, dragging your aching core over his swollen cock. You found purchase on his pecs, fingers digging slightly into the firm muscle there before hooking under the hem of his dark t-shirt. He raises his arms without hesitation, letting you pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, leaving his chest bare and warm beneath your hands. One of Jack’s hands wandered up, finding the plush skin of your breast.
He squeezed first, already addicted to the feel of it in his palm, before tweaking the eager peak between his thumb and forefinger.
“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he whispered, captivated by your figure rutting up against him. Desperate, hungry for release.
“I need you, Jack,” you begged, craving the feel of him inside you. You’d made a mess, your juices beginning to mix with his as you rocked and rocked and rock. His hands dropped down to your thighs at your words.
He tsked lightly, fingers flexing and pushing your legs the tiniest bit wider, a dark smirk catching his lips.
“You look so pretty like this, all needy for me.”
You could feel yourself tumbling toward release, your breathing staggering as you did.
“Jack, please,” you cried, chin rolling down to press to your own chest. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt it.
Your cunt squeezed around nothing as the coil in the pit of your stomach snapped, a sharp breath escaping you, as if you’d been holding it the whole time.
Jack rocked you slowly, bringing you down from the high. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.”
You collapsed on his chest, nosing his cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to your jaw. Your lungs heaved, heart drumming right on the surface of your skin.
“That’s my good girl.” The comment made you chuckle as you pressed your lips to Jack’s freckled chest.
You met his eyes, dark once again after your moment of release. You rolled off him and he rose from the bed, pulling his boxers off. Your eyes wandered over his back as if trying to count the constellations that were mapped there, watching as the muscles rippled just under the skin.
He crawled back to you, his lips leaving a hot trail up your body. He shuffled you over so you were sitting up slightly against the plush pillows of his bed. Your hands drifted up, over his shoulders and around his neck before settling on his jaw to pull him into a kiss.
He licked into your mouth, a faint taste of toothpaste on his tongue. One of your hands snaked down, reaching for him as a hiss fell from his lips. It turned into a moan as you pumped your hand and he stilled in your embrace, paralyzed by the pleasure.
His breathing was heavy as he gasped into your mouth. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stalling your movements.
“Wanna feel you now,” he whispered, pulling one of your legs up by the knee before tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit.
His hips began to press toward yours, cock stretching you open as he eased in. A shared gasp escaped you both as he filled you to the hilt.
“Baby, you feel s'good...” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled out almost all the way before plunging back into you, letting out a low groan.
You squeezed Jack’s arms, fingernails digging into his skin as he let out a quiet hiss through his teeth.
His hips continued to roll against yours at a steady pace, his hands wandering from your pebbled nipples to the pearl of your clit. You arched against him as he pressed down, circling it tenderly. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as your tongues tangled together.
The gentle circling of his thumb sent heat straight through you, the rhythmic thrusting faltering momentarily. You cried out, eyes squeezing shut as he pulled back only to slam back into you, hard.
“Look at me,” he breathed, forcing your eyes open. He panted, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest. He pressed your knees up higher, driving deeper into you. A loud gasp tore from you both as he hit that spot over and over.
There was the coil again, twisting and twisting. It felt sharper, hotter. It threatened your control, almost slipping through your fingers.
“Jack, I—” you tried to call out before he stopped you.
“I know, baby. I know.” He was almost there, his hips growing erratic, almost completely overwhelmed by the sensation.
“Just let go.”
With a gasp, your resolve snapped. You were shaking in his arms, thighs trembling as he kept thrusting.
“Come on, baby,” you whined, fingers now digging into his hips. “Give it to me.” And he did, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as he pressed his lips to yours. He trembled, a moan vibrating on your tongue. You could feel his heartbeat where your hand rested on his neck and his warmth as it began to trickle out of your drenched cunt.
He collapsed against you, chests heaving in unison. Pulling you up against his chest, he traced soft circles on your shoulder, pressing his lips to your sweaty hairline. Wrapped in the lingering heat of his body, you let exhaustion take over you. The steady thud of his heart pulled you into a quiet dark, settling into silence.
summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.
content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic
2k words whew
with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
.
on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.
starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.
that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.
and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.
every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.
after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.
then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.
it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!
the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.
clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.
he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-
in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.
noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.
he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.
you think you could ascend.
you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."
curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.
his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.
he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.
because clark has never looked this feral.
his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.
"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.
the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.
.
how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.
and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.
he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.
he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.
despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.
a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.
you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.
he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.
in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.
your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.
with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.
"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.
he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.
a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"
"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."
clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.
a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, explicit sexual content — MDNI , graphic descriptions , excessive cum , kinda gentle to rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation , creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), porn with little plot, needy peter parker , love confessions , touch starvation , college au , post nwh , smut , fem!reader , pussy drunk peter , first time together , confessions , the L word !!
𝐰𝐜: 4.9k (i think. might be more, might be less. idk.)
𝐚/𝐧: i may have gone overboard with this but it’s my first smut fic. LOL! no spoilers for brand new day! this is semi proofread, so sorry in advance for mistakes. enjoy!!
the thing about Peter Parker is that he doesn't realize how tactile he is.
or maybe he does now, after four years of forcing himself not to be.
you’re sprawled across his dorm room floor, textbooks and notes scattered around you like academic shrapnel. your Organic Chemistry problem set is due tomorrow, and Peter's trying to explain electron orbital hybridization for the third time while you're trying not to notice the way his hands move when he talks.
"okay, so—wait, are you even listening?" he glances up from the molecular model he's been gesturing at, catching you staring.
"yes," you lie. "orbitals. hybridization. very sexy stuff."
Peter's ears go pink. they always do. "it’s actually kind of cool if you think about it. like, the atoms are literally reshaping themselves to form stronger bonds—"
"Peter."
"—which is sort of romantic in a way? no? okay, yeah, I hear how that sounds."
you grin, nudging his knee with your foot. "you’re such a nerd."
the contact makes him freeze for just a second—so brief you almost miss it. but you've been Peter's best friend since freshman orientation, when you found him eating lunch alone in the dining hall, and you've gotten good at reading him. the way his breath catches. how his eyes track the movement of your leg as you pull it back.
"takes one to know one," he manages, but his voice is slightly rough.
you’ve been noticing things like this more lately. the way he leans into your touch when you grab his arm. how he finds excuses to be close—sitting next to you even when there's a whole empty couch, walking you home when your dorm is barely three buildings away. the looks that last a fraction too long.
at first, you thought you were imagining it. Peter Parker, who spent freshman year obviously pining after someone he wouldn't talk about, who kept a careful distance from everyone like he was afraid of breaking something. but somewhere between late-night study sessions and 2 AM bodega runs and him falling asleep on your shoulder during movie nights, something shifted.
now he's watching you chew on your pen cap, and there's heat in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.
"we should take a break," you suggest. "my brain is melting."
"yeah, okay." Peter runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up adorably. "i’ve got—uh, i think there's some leftover pizza? and definitely Red Bull, which is probably not great to mix with the coffee we already had, but—"
"Peter."
"hmm?"
you’re not sure what you were going to say. something about how he's rambling, maybe, or how cute he looks when he's nervous. but you're sitting close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the words dissolve on your tongue.
he swallows hard. "you’re looking at me weird."
"weird how?"
"i don't know! like..." he trails off, and you watch his gaze drop to your mouth before snapping back up. "never mind."
the air feels thick suddenly, charged with something that's been building for months. you think about all the almost-moments—hands brushing when passing coffee cups, the time he caught you when you slipped on ice and held on longer than necessary, the way he said your name last week, soft and wondering, like he was testing how it felt.
"Peter," you say again, and this time his name sounds different. heavier.
"yes?" it comes out barely above a whisper.
you lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away. he doesn't. instead, he tilts forward like you're gravity and he's been in orbit too long, and when your lips finally meet, the small sound he makes goes straight through you.
the kiss is soft for maybe two seconds before Peter's hand comes up to cup your face and it turns desperate. he kisses like he's starving, like you're air and he's been underwater for years. his other hand finds your waist, gripping tight enough that you can feel the tremor in his fingers.
"sorry," he gasps against your mouth. "sorry, i just—"
"don’t apologize." you thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently. the noise he makes is almost pained.
"i’ve wanted—" he breaks off, kissing you again, harder. "god, i’ve wanted this for so long."
you end up in his lap somehow, textbooks scattering as he pulls you closer. Peter's hands are everywhere—your hips, your back, sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin. when you roll your hips experimentally, he actually whimpers.
"fuck," he breathes. "fuck, you can't—i’m trying to—"
"trying to what?" you do it again, feeling him harden beneath you.
his head falls back against the bed frame. "be good. go slow. not just—" his hips buck up involuntarily. "not just maul you like some kind of—oh fuck, are you taking off your shirt?"
you are, in fact, pulling your shirt over your head. "is that okay?"
Peter's eyes go wide and dark. "is that—are you seriously asking if—yeah. yeah, it’s okay. are you kidding?" he reaches for you with shaking hands, then stops himself. "i need you to tell me this is real."
"it’s real." you guide his hands to your waist. "i’m real. touch me, Peter."
he surges up to kiss you, lifting you and gently laying you back against the bed, he follows you down—his weight pressing you into the mattress. he’s kissing the spot behind your ear now, your neck, your jawline, your collarbone, working his way down with single-minded focus. all he can think about is you. you, you you you you.
"you’re so soft," he murmurs against your skin. "so fucking soft, i can't get enough. so soft, and smooth.”
his hands shake as he reaches for your bra clasp. it takes him two tries, and he laughs breathlessly against your shoulder. "sorry, i’m—it's been a while.”
your heart clenches. you know Peter has secrets—everyone does—but sometimes he lets things slip that make you wonder what he's been through. "we can slow down if you want."
"no." it comes out fierce. "no, i don't want slow. i want—" he drags his hands down your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "i want to touch every part of you. want to taste you. want to—fuck, i want so many things."
he gets your bra off and just stares for a moment, reverent. when’s the last time he’s seen tits up close? then he's ducking his head to take your nipple in his mouth, and the feeling shoots straight between your legs. his tongue works in circles while his hand palms your other breast, and you arch into him with a gasp.
"Peter—"
he’s grinding against your thigh now, seemingly unconscious of it, completely focused on mapping your body with his mouth. when he kisses down your stomach, just above your navel, your muscles jump under his lips.
"can i?" his fingers are on the button of your shorts. "please. pleasepleaseplease."
"yes." you lift your hips to help him, and he drags your shorts and underwear down in one motion like he can't wait another second.
Peter sits back on his heels, just looking, and the expression on his face makes you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world. "holy shit," he breathes. "you’re so—i can't believe you're letting me—fuck.”
"Peter." you reach for him. "come here."
but he shakes his head, lowering himself between your thighs instead. "i need to taste you first. i’ve been thinking about this for months—i felt like a pervert but.. i just couldn’t stop thinking about you. shit, baby.”
the first broad lick of his tongue through your folds makes you both moan. Peter grips your thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading you open obscenely as he buries his face between your legs like a man starving. there’s no technique to it at first, just raw desperate hunger—he's licking and sucking messily, his tongue exploring every fold, every inch of you like he needs to memorize the taste.
"oh my god," you manage, watching him devour you. watching his messy curls between your legs. “Peter, that's—fuuuuck!”
he moans against your cunt, the vibration making your legs shake. his tongue finds your clit and circles it sloppily before dipping lower, the tip of his tongue pushing into your entrance. "fuck," he gasps, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin already shiny with your arousal. "jesus, you're so wet. you’re dripping—all for me?” he dives back in, licking into you deeper, his nose pressed against your clit as he tries to fuck you with his tongue.
you can feel how soaked you are, can hear the obscene wet sounds as he works you over. Peter's completely lost in it, grinding his hard cock against the mattress as he eats you out like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. because you are. if he knew, he would’ve confessed long ago.
"you taste so fucking good," he mumbles against your pussy, words muffled and desperate. "could do this forever. could just live between your legs—fuck, you're getting wetter. fuck, honey."
he slides two fingers into you without warning, and you cry out at the stretch. your walls clench around the intrusion, and Peter whimpers at the feeling. "oh god, you're so tight. so fucking tight and warm. holy fuck.” he curls his fingers, searching, and when he finds that spot inside you, your back arches off the bed.
“there!" you gasp. "right there, Peter, don't stop—"
"here?" he does it again, his fingers pumping in and out while his mouth seals around your clit. he sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly, and the dual sensation has you climbing fast. you can see him grinding desperately against the mattress, seeking friction, his hips rolling in time with his fingers fucking into you.
"Peter, i’m gonna—"
"please," he begs against your clit, the word vibrating through you. "please cum for me, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my fingers, wanna taste you cumming on my tongue. please? will you cum for me, baby? please, i need it. i need you.”
his encouragements and the fullness combined with his mouth on your clit sends you over the edge. your orgasm crashes through you, and Peter moans like he's the one cumming as your walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. he works you through it, fingers still pumping, tongue still lapping at your clit until you're shaking and oversensitive and have to physically push his head away.
when he lifts his head, his face is a mess—lips swollen and shiny, chin glistening with your arousal, eyes absolutely blown black with lust. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever done," he says, voice completely wrecked. he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning at the taste. "you’re the hottest thing i’ve ever seen. i can’t—i need to be inside you right now or i’m gonna lose my mind."
you reach for his shirt with shaking hands. "off. please."
he strips so fast he nearly falls over, hopping on one foot as he shoves his jeans and boxers down. it’s almost comical, if you weren’t so desperate right now. when he's finally naked, you take a moment to appreciate him—lean muscle, the cut of his hipbones, his cock hard and flushed, curving up toward his stomach. the head is already leaking precum, and as you watch, another bead forms at the tip.
"come here," you say, and he practically lunges back onto the bed.
the first touch of skin on skin makes him shudder violently. "oh shit," he breathes, his cock sliding against your wet pussy. "ah fuck, you feel so good. jesus. your skin. fuckfuckfuck.”
your wrap your hand around him, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily, fucking into your fist. he’s hot and hard and silky in your palm, and when you stroke him once, experimentally, precum leaks over your fingers. the sound he makes is almost pained. he bites his lip so hard, you’re afraid he’ll break skin.
"i’m not gonna last," he warns, voice breaking. "i’m already so close, i’ve been so close just from tasting you, from feeling you cum on my face.”
"it’s okay." you guide him to your entrance, notching the head of his cock against your opening. you’re so wet that he slides through your folds easily. "i want you inside me. want to feel you cum inside me.”
Peter’s hand shakes as he reaches between you, gripping his cock to line himself up properly. "i don't—do you have a—"
"pill," you manage. "i’m on the pill. clean. are you—
"of course i am. i—i mean. yes.”
you’d normally never do this raw. but right now, all you care about is the way he's looking at you like you're everything, as he slowly pushes inside.
the stretch is intense—he's thick and the angle is deep and you're so sensitive from your first orgasm that every inch feels like too much and not enough all at once. you both groan as he sinks in, and you can feel your walls fluttering around him, trying to accommodate the intrusion.
"oh my god," Peter gasps, his whole body trembling. "oh my god, you're so tight, i can feel—fuck, i can feel everything—" his arms are shaking with the effort of going slow, his face buried in your neck. "you’re squeezing me so tight, oh, fuuuuck.”
when he's fully seated, buried to the hilt inside you, he stops, breathing hard against your skin. you can feel him pulsing inside you, can feel how close he already is. "need a second," he pants. "just need a second or i’m gonna cum right now.”
you run your hands down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he's holding himself perfectly still. "it’s okay. take your time."
"don’t want it to be over." he lifts his head to look at you, and his eyes are almost desperate, pupils blown so wide there's barely any brown left. "feels too good. you feel too good. like—like you were made for me, like your pussy was made to take my cock.”
you rock your hips slightly, and his eyes nearly roll back. "Peter, you can move. please move. i need you to fuck me."
he does, pulling out slowly—agonizingly slowly—and you can feel everything. every ridge, every vein, the way his cock drags against your walls, the way you're stretched around him. the sensation is so intense it makes your toes curl, makes you whimper at the loss of fullness.
"oh, fuck," Peter breathes, watching where you're joined, watching himself slide out of you. "you look so good taking my cock. so fucking good.”
then he slides back in, just as slowly, and you both moan at the same time. the sound he makes is broken, almost pained, like it feels too good to bear. his whole body shudders as he bottoms out again, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he does it again, pulling out painfully slow—before sliding back in. the feeling is so perfect. yet, your body craves more. he sets a rhythm that's deep and steady, but you can feel him holding back, trying to maintain control, his jaw clenched with the effort.
"can’t—" he gasps. "can’t believe how good you feel. so tight and wet and warm. how are you so tight, baby? god.”
he sets a rhythm that's deep and steady, his cock plunging deep inside of your pussy, over and over. each thrust is deliberate, controlled, like he's trying to memorize every sensation. but you can see the effort it's taking him—his jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping, his arms trembling where they're braced on either side of you, sweat already beading on his forehead.
"ah—yes!" you encourage, running your hands up his back. "you feel so good inside me."
his hips stutter slightly at your words, the rhythm faltering for just a second before he regains control. "yeah? you like feeling me fuck you?"
"yes, pete! love it! love feeling you stretch me open—!”
"fuck—" his next thrust is slightly harder, slightly faster, and he immediately tries to slow down again. "sorry, sorry, i’m trying to—trying to go slow but you feel so fucking good.”
"let go," you tell him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i want to feel you lose control. want you to fuck me like you've been dreaming about."
he groans as he feels your walls clench around him. “i’m sorry, honey. m’sorry. i’m too rough, aren’t i? m’so sorry.”
"don’t apologize." you roll your hips to meet his next thrust, and the angle makes him hit deeper. "want to feel you."
the pleasure is building steadily, a warm coil tightening in your belly with each stroke. Peter's breathing is getting heavier, his control visibly slipping. his thrusts are getting incrementally faster, harder, like his body is moving on instinct despite his attempts to hold back.
"you’re so—ah!—perfect," he pants against your neck, his hips snapping forward a little harder. "so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well—" another thrust, faster this time. "been dreaming about this, about being inside you, about feeling you on my cock.”
his rhythm is getting less controlled now, more erratic. you can feel him starting to lose it, his careful restraint crumbling with each thrust. he’s sweating more, his skin slick against yours, his breathing ragged and desperate.
"Peter—" you dig your nails into his back. "more. need more."
he shakes his head. “can’t—if i go harder i won't be able to stop—" but even as he says it, his hips are moving faster, driving into you with more force. "what are you doing to me? fuuuck, i can't—i’m trying to be gentle but you feel too good.”
“then don't be gentle." you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "want you to fuck me harder."
he makes a sound that's almost a whimper, his hips stuttering before he slams into you harder than before. "like that? you want it like that?"
"yes!—fuck, yes—"
his control is slipping faster now. each thrust is harder, faster, more desperate. he tries to slow down, you can feel him trying, but his body won't listen. his hips keep moving, keep driving into you with increasing intensity.
"can’t stop," he gasps, his voice breaking. "can’t fucking stop, you feel too good, your pussy is so tight—" he’s babbling now, his face pressed into the curve of your neck. "want to fuck you so hard, want to make you feel so good, want to hear you scream my name.”
"m’trying to—trying to hold back—" but his hips are moving faster, pounding into you with a force that makes the bed shake. "don’t want to hurt you—"
"you won't. please, Peter, i need it.”
his next thrust makes you both cry out. he’s completely losing it now, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic, his body taking over despite his attempts at control. you can feel him shaking, trembling with the effort of holding himself back even as his hips betray him.
"i’ll hurt you—i’m stronger than i look—“
"shut up, Peter." you pull him deeper with your legs, and the angle makes you both gasp. "stop—fucking—ah!, stop apologizing. i want all of you. want you to use me, fuck me as hard as you need.”
his eyes roll back at the depth and his fragile restraint snaps. he eyes go dark and feral, and suddenly he's pounding into you, his hips snapping against yours with force that would probably hurt if you weren't so turned on. the bed frame slams against the wall with each thrust, and Peter's completely gone, his filter destroyed.
"fuckfuck, shit, your pussy feels so good," he babbles against your neck, his voice broken and desperate. he reaches up, his hand palming your breast, squeezing the weight in his hand. his thumb circling over your nipple as he moans into your neck. "so tight and wet and perfect—can't believe i get to have this, have you. been wanting to fuck you for so long..” he changes the angle slightly and hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "there? can you feel me there? can you feel how deep i am?"
"yes!" you’re clinging to him, nails digging into his back. "Peter, oh my god!”
"shit—! wanted to bend you over the library table," he confesses, words tumbling out in a rush as he fucks into you relentlessly. "wanted to pull you into the bathroom at that party last month and fuck you against the sink. wanted to wake up with my face between your legs, wanted to fall asleep with my cock still inside you—" he’s rambling now, completely unfiltered, telling you every desperate fantasy as his hips piston. "used to jerk off thinking about this, about how you'd feel, how you'd sound, what your pussy would look like stretched around my cock.”
the world outside his dorm room falls away, all you can feel is his cock pumping in and out of you. you can barely think, he’s barely giving you time to think. all you can hear is his moans, your own desperate cries and the wet slap! of his skin against yours.
you can feel another orgasm building, the angle hitting perfectly with every brutal thrust. your walls are fluttering around him, and you know he can feel it because he moans and somehow speeds up even more. like he’s superhuman.
"Peter, i’m close—"
"i know, sweet girl. i can feel it." he reaches between you, his thumb finding your swollen clit. the touch is almost too much on your oversensitive flesh, but then he's rubbing tight circles and you're flying. "cum on my cock. please baby, need to feel it, need to feel your pussy cumming on my cock. just like you did on my fingers.”
tne combination of his thumb and the relentless thrust of his hips and his desperate words sends you over the edge. your second orgasm hits even harder than the first, your whole body seizing as pleasure whites out your vision. you clench around him rhythmically, and Peter makes a sound like he's been punched, his rhythm faltering.
“oh shit, shitshitshit, you're squeezing me so tight, i can't—i’m gonna cum—where? tell me where. please.”
"inside," you gasp, still riding the waves. "cum inside me, Peter, want to feel it.”
he buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a broken moan of your name.
you can feel it immediately—the first hot pulse of cum flooding into you, but it doesn't stop. it keeps coming, wave after wave, his cock jerking violently inside you as he empties himself. there’s so much—more than should be possible—each pulse filling you fuller, the warmth spreading deep inside as he shakes apart above you.
"oh god, oh god.” his voice is completely destroyed, words slurring together as another massive wave hits him. "i’m sorry, baby. i know it’s a lot—fuuuuck. imsorryimsorryimsorry.”
another pulse, his hips jerking involuntarily, grinding deeper like he's trying to fuck his cum even further inside you.
his arms are shaking so badly he can barely hold himself up. you can see tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming intensity, his face twisted in almost painful pleasure.
when his orgasm finally, finally starts to subside, he collapses on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress because he literally cannot hold himself up anymore. he’s shaking like a leaf, gasping against your neck, and you can feel the obscene amount of cum leaking out of you.
"holy shit," he finally says, voice absolutely destroyed. "that was—i mean, i knew it would be good, but that was—i think i saw the heavens. god, i feel like i’m gonna pass out.”
"that was so hot," you manage, because words are hard right now and your limbs feel like jelly.
he lifts his head to look at you, and his expression is soft and wondering and a little hungry. "i love you," he says. "i know that's probably too soon to say, and we should probably talk about what this means, but i love you. i’ve been in love with you for months, maybe longer, and i thought i’d never get over—someone else—but then you smiled at me in the dining hall freshman year and i just.. i don’t know. you definitely don’t have to say it back, because i sound insane, but i just want you to know that—“
you kiss him, cutting off the ramble. "i know. i think i love you too.”
his answering smile is bright enough to power the sun. "yeah?"
"yeah.”
he kisses you again, soft and sweet this time, and you can feel him starting to harden inside you again, his cock thickening and lengthening where it's still buried in your pussy.
"Peter," you say, mock-stern even as your body responds.
he grins, sheepish and hungry all at once, and rolls his hips experimentally. the slide is easy, slick with cum and arousal. "i have months to make up for. hope you didn't have plans tomorrow."
you definitely don't have plans. and when he starts moving again—slow and deep and perfect, his cum making obscene wet sounds as he fucks it back into you—you can't think of anywhere else you'd rather be than here, in his messy dorm room, with the boy who's been touch-starved for too long finally letting himself feel everything.
the Organic Chemistry homework can wait.
authors note: whewww.. hi guys… yes.. yes.. i’ve been gone for a few weeks but IM HERE NOW! and here with a smut.. wooo!! baby’s first smutfic yum yum. i saw bnd on the 29th and holy fan service.. any who i have a love hate relationship with this. i’m SCARED to post this and i will delete if it doesn’t do well (kidding). i just get embarrassed writing smut so.. hope you love it.. and if you do, i might make more !! bye loves <3
you fall in love with robby's cat. robby takes advantage of that, much to jack's dismay...
onesided michael 'robby' robinavitch x reader x jack abbot
Robby's walking to his car after a middling shift. He hears a noise when he unlocks the driver's side door, and he doesn't know animals well enough to automatically guess what it's from.
"Mrrrp-mrp. Mow-mow."
Dumbass.
Robby stops and looks around. The parking lot is full of cars and seemingly empty of whatever could make that noise...but he hears it again, and it must be under his car.
He crouches with a groan. Yep. He needs a reminder that he can no longer get up from the floor or down without consequences. Who over forty-five doesn't?
Anyways, Robby doesn't know what the hell to do when he sees two golden eyes staring back from behind the front tire.
The kitten they belong to is grey. She looks like somebody rolled her through the fireplace and then tried to wipe her clean with wet hands, which makes her scruffy fur stick up along her spine. One of her ears is slightly bent.
The outrage this thing bears is, in Robby's opinion, very disproportionate to her size. She's kinda ugly. But that's also just his opinion.
"Hey. Hello."
The kitten hisses. Robby pulls his mouth tight. Okay. Fine.
"So...you're gonna have to move. I have no intention of hitting and running a cat. C'mon."
He tries to lure her out with his half-eaten protein bar that he probably shouldn't have had in his pocket, but that earns him another hiss. Which means, ten minutes later, he's sitting cross-legged on asphalt.
He didn't think he'd be spending his precious time after work trying to explain to a feral, asshole kitten that she's gonna be crushed if she remains behind his tire...but he manages to call it a success.
Cause twenty minutes later, the kitten's wrapped inside his jacket.
Robby tells himself, driving home, that it's all just temporary. He'll bring it back to his place cause all the shelters and humane societies in his area are already closed. Most likely. He doesn't have time to check Google.
...He should take her to the vet, though. They're still open. Just in case. Yeah. He ends up driving her to the vet. It.
During the check-up, the vet hands Robby a list. It includes information and guidance about food, litter, vaccinations, deworming, and follow-up appointments. It's a pamphlet for new cat owners.
He isn't a new cat owner. But what? He doesn't have to explain himself to a woman who's just trying to do her job.
"Thanks, but this is just temporary. I'm sure whoever adopts her will...do a much better job than I could."
Robby stares down at the kitten, who has fallen asleep in the crook of his arm. He's smiling until he realizes the vet is also smiling like she couldn't possibly believe him.
Why is she doing that?
He names her Bugsy. Robby thinks it fits cause God, does she fucking bug him. It works as a good placeholder.
You don't understand. She's very intrusive. The guy knew cats usually are, but she keeps appearing in places he swears she couldn't possibly reach. He doesn't know how the hell she got into the pantry. Or behind his bed. Or the bookshelf.
"Hey, get out of there, Bugsy. No. No---no, Bugsy, that's an electrical cord. Stop biting it!"
Robby has no choice but to put the name in her veterinary file. And you know...he's not a bad cat dad. That's what cat owners call themselves, right? Cat dad, cat mom. Fun!
He tries installing a window hammock badly, cause maybe that will distract her from tearing at his walls. He buys the expensive wet food cause he can. If you can, you should.
He watches a couple of videos on feline body language cause Bugsy's tail keeps sticking upright and trembling when he comes home. He doesn't know if that's neurological. But it isn't.
Apparently, it just means she's happy to see him.
...Which, okay. That's cute, but Robby tries not to react emotionally to that information.
He doesn't exactly need to get extremely attached to an animal or anything. Makes it harder to get mad at her when she pees on the couch. Cat pee smells worse than he thought it would!
...He just lets Bugsy sleep on his chest every evening cause it helps her calm down. It's honorable, really. She kneads his sternum with painfully sharp paws and purrs directly beneath his chin. Very loud.
Hard to fall asleep.
Robby knows what people will think if they find out about this, so he tells nobody. But again, Bugsy's intrusive.
Bugsy climbs into his fucking work bag.
And haaaaaa, Robby only realizes that once he enters the Pitt and hears a muffled meow in the front pocket.
Dana finds him wrestling her with his hands. She's trying to chew on another protein bar. He got her addicted.
"What the hell is that?"
Robby sighs. "Dana, I'm so sorry, but I have to leave and bring her home. I'll be right back."
"When did you adopt a cat---"
And of course, it's you, Sunshine, who has to walk in and witness the small, furry head poking out of the bag.
You halt and let your mouth fall open. Robby swears that you've reacted less dramatically to major trauma. Which makes sense. You're you.
And who would have it any other way, right?
"Oh, my God."
When Bugsy ears twitch, Robby already knows he's fucked.
"You have a baby. You have a little tiny baby! Lemme see."
You cross the room with your hands held out. Bugsy watches, and Robby braces himself for the hiss.
Yep. He's fucked. He's screwed because instead, she leans forward and sniffs your fingers before bumping her head into your hand.
You gasp.
"She loves me. She chose me!"
Robby leans against the table. "She met you four seconds ago, Sunshine. But...she does seem to like you. Makes sense."
Makes sense? He's lucky you ignore that. You only scoop Bugsy carefully from the bag.
Her paws settle on your scrub top. Within a moment or two, the traitorous animal begins to purr. You close your eyes.
Robby watches pure peace fall over you. You usually reserve that look for babies and Jack when he does something gruffly nice and thinks nobody notices.
...And he guesses his furry daughter makes the team.
"Robby. I would die for her."
Dana reaches over and scratches Bugsy under the chin. "Where’d you get her? You just found a cat and took it home?"
"Parking lot. She was under my car."
Robby straightens his spine slightly when you coo and look at him like he's restored your faith in mankind or something. It's involuntary. You have a habit of making men do involuntary things at your reaction.
See Jack Abbot for more information.
"Oh, Robbyyyy. That’s so sweet!"
"Couldn't exactly drive over her, could I, Sunshine? But I'm flattered."
"You bought her a little pink collar."
....Robby looks down at Bugsy and her pink leather collar. It's got a tiny silver bell. The tag is in the shape of a heart.
"...It was the only one in her size."
The only saving grace is that he has no opinion on the warmth that spreads through his chest when your smile for him grows. None---
"Look what the cat dragged in. Robby, the hell is this?"
Jack would tell you to get off the table that you're sitting on, but you're saved by the cat in your lap.
And your shoulder brushing Robby's arm. Huh.
"Jackie! Her name is Bugsy. She was living under his car, and he rescued her. Isn't that adorable? Look at the collar he bought her."
Jack's gaze follows to the heart-shaped tag before returning to Robby. He straightens at the spine.
"You buy all your strays jewelry?"
Robby's throat bobs before he smiles thin.
"Only the pretty ones, Jack."
There's not enough time for Jack to strangle Robby for that quip, because the guy scratches Bugsy's chin as you gleam with joy. The kitten leans into him. You coo.
"She already loves her daddy."
Jack clenches his jaw before peering his head down. Robby gives you a tired smile.
Jesus fucking Christ, kid.
"It's okay because I’m the one with food."
"That’s love to a cat."
Jack nearly scoffs. "And to you."
It's his mutter you blink at.
"What---"
"Give her here, Sleepy."
That's a surprise, the guy wanting to hold Bugsy, but you surrender her with glee. When you do, Jack takes her with what Robby can only call awkward caution. Like he knows just how fragile the monster is.
Bugsy looks very small against him. She sniffs his stubble, and Robby couldn't guess why that gets you to make a sound that is also of glee.
Well. He can. That's Jack. That's your Jack, isn't it? Everyone's got a front row ticket to you and him.
Yeah. Very entertaining stuff. Has been seen he's introduced you to the guy however long ago.
"She smells, Robby---"
Jack's interrupted by Bugsy putting a paw on his mouth. You clutch Robby's arm at that.
"Look! I'm gonna die."
...You know what? Robby's almost gulping at Jack's immediate glare to your platonic affection prevailing in front of him, but he knows to stay calm and remove himself gently. Works to stay in his brother's good graces most of the time.
Yep. He's a pro with you, Sunshine.
"Is she gonna be alone when you leave? Like, alone alone?"
"She's a cat, sunshine. She was surviving outdoors without assistance before me."
You pout.
"That was before she knew love."
Robby hears the complete sincerity in your voice and can only sigh. He's not baffled by your bubbly nunances, hasn't been since the week he met you, and because he's known you for so long, he knows just how to comfort you.
"She sleeps on me. My chest, usually. I'm sure she has no trouble knocking out elsewhere, though. She'll be okay."
Robby's right to be confident as your friend, you look like you're gonna squeal. Or coo again. He'll be okay with either.
"Do you have pictures of her?"
"A couple."
Robby has forty-nine, for some reason. He doesn't know how that happened. And you're practically demanding him, so he shows you some.
He watches you take particular heart with the one of Bugsy going wild in a cardboard that had a cat bed in it. A cat bed shipped and packed in it. A significantly more expensive cat bed.
"I'm totally gonna beg you for updates."
"Never expected you wouldn't. I'll try my best. You can see I'm not the greatest animal photographer."
By the time he comes back from dropping Bugsy off, you and Jack are gone, and the rest of the shift passes by without much incident, surprisingly. That is if you don't count Jack's glare as one. Robby doesn't.
He’s pretty fucking used to it.
how is bugsy doing???
Robby's in bed with Bugsy resting on his naked chest. Her little claws are tickling his chest hair. She's almost spoiled as you are.
He's guessing. He's sure Jack happily drains his bank account for you.
He takes a photo. He looks dog-tired in it, and his hair's a little greasy from the workday. He was planning on showering just when, you know, Bugsy decided she had other plans for him.
...It's not provocative at all. You can handle Robby shirtless, right? You've seen more skin of men you don't know, as a nurse. It'd probably be more weird to put on a shirt just to take of photo for you. Yeah. Yeah. He's not gonna do that.
He sends it. Putting on a shirt would say more than just taking a photo of what he's doing, which is lounging.
I have never met a animal so invasive.
Your response comes pretty immediately. Robby smiles small.
OH MY GOD
her tiny beans😭😭😭
you’re such a good cat dad
Robby's smile grows wider. You know how to make somebody's day better. Ridiculously, yeah. That's probably the charm of it.
Not that he has any opinion on being called a good cat dad by you---
"Ow! Fuck, Bugsy."
He still hasn't figured out how to stop Bugsy from biting his nipples.
The photos become routine after, and Robby doesn't mind. You'll ask when you know he's not on shifts. Sometimes...you don't ask at all, and he just sends them to you. Usually when Bugsy's being crazy.
He knows you'll appreciate it. Bugsy trying climb into his shoe, or pawing at his stomach while he watches TV. A lot are of just her, but some include Robby.
He doesn't wanna take selfies of himself. He's not exactly insecure about his looks, but being alone in his own home while doing fuck all...he's not the most photogenic.
But it's practical. Selfies are easy when she's around or on him. Robby's not gonna stage a photoshoot every time Sunshine asks what the cat's doing.
He is also not going to put on a shirt in his own home. Again, he's made his point. That'd be weirder.
So yes, Jack, several photos include his bare shoulders. And his chest.
...He'll admit the one that showed the waistband of his sweatpants could've been deemed a bit risky, but that was only cause Bugsy fell asleep against his hip and he did badly trying to angle the phone down to capture the shot.
she looks so LITTLE next to you!! i'm going ham over this 😭
And hey, it's not like the responses you're giving imply even the slightest bit of realization that his photos to you could be sexual. Which they're not.
So good.
You're curled against Jack's side, your phone illuminating your face. It's kind of hard to fall asleep, considering you're giggling. He opens one eye, squeezing your bicep. It may be punishment.
"Some of us are trying to get some shut eye."
"Look at Bugsy, she's big enough to get into the kitchen sink."
Jack looks at the phone that you, Sleepy, have lovingly shoved into his face. The things he handles for you.
He's looking at Robby in a selfie with Bugsy in the sink.
He's shirtless. Okay. That's...it's his own home. But the fact that the guy feels comfortable sending you half-naked photos. Huh. Fucking interesting.
Robby practically lives on the benefit of the doubt---
"What the hell are you doing?"
"...Looking at Bugsy?"
You're zooming in on the photo, and Jack can feel his rigidly pulsing heart sink.
"You made him bigger. He's naked. How many photos like this is Robby sending to you?"
What the fuck is this?
"He's not naked, hey---"
Jack takes the phone from your hand and studies the photo. Robby's not flexing, but he doesn't know self-conscious. Just a man photographed in his own home by himself, not trying to impress anyone.
Robby also lives on your obliviousness, apparently.
"He sent you this?"
"I asked for Bugsy."
"And his chest just happens to be there. Convenient. Are there more?"
You happily show Jack more, and none of them are explicit. He'd be pretty damn stupid to claim they're even flirtatious in any provable sense.
Saved for the fact he's got his fucking tits out.
You begin visiting Bugsy, and Robby swears you forced the invitation. You were already texting him constantly, and Bugsy clearly likes you. All he did was mention that he doesn't want to leave her alone when she threw up that morning.
i could watch her
Robby stares at the message.
You don’t have to.
i want to! please. i'm gonna break into your house if u don't.
So you come over. See? You practically forced him. He finds it funny, that and how you bring organic cat treats and two toys you had to have bought on your way here.
Robby finds you sitting on his living room floor when he returns, Bugsy asleep in your lap while you hum. He stands in the doorway, keys in hand.
...Looks domestic, almost. That's funny too. You in his place, your shoes by his door, with his cat kid cuddling with you.
You really know how to make a home for yourself, huh?
He clears his throat. Pretty hoarse from today.
"She behave okay?"
You smile up at him. "She’s an angel."
Well. You and she both.
You visit again three days later, and then the next week. Then the next. Robby takes no issue with Jack sometimes coming. Usually he doesn't, though. He claims he has better things to do than sit in his apartment while you wave a feather on a stick.
Robby knows that he still texts every twenty minutes, though.
When are you leaving?
when bugsy stops being perfect
So never. Great.
Robby has no opinion on how often you come over, and he doesn't know you've visited him seven times this month. He finds it funny that you greet Bugsy before greeting him. That tracks.
...He wonders if you can tell he's vacuuming now. He hasn't just started for you. He owns a cat now. Cat hair definitely requires vacuuming.
But he allows himself to feel...he doesn't know, endeared when Bugsy meows at the sound of your voice through his phone. Only because he's a responsible pet owner now.
"Robby, you're back! If you ever need me to catsit, Jack and I can take her."
bnd!peter parker x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 1.4k
summary: ab riding with spider-man. entirely inspired by this tiktok
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fwb dynamic with spider-man (reader doesn’t know his identity), enhanced!peter, masked sex, ab riding, overstimulation, peter comes untouched, nsfw themes + language.
a/n: the hyperfixation is hyperfixating. i hope you guys enjoy!! <3
You weren’t even sure how it came up, where the thought had come from. Spider-Man had come to your window, climbing through like he did most nights now. More than usual lately, his enhanced senses having something to do with that, but you didn’t know that. Didn’t need to. All you knew was that when red and blue appeared outside your window, followed by that one familiar tap against the glass, he was there for one thing and one thing only. Somewhere between your mouths chasing each other, clothes being stripped away in impatient handfuls, bare skin meeting the mattress, and you climbing straight over his lap, curiosity struck.
You’d done plenty with him at this point, hard not to when he looked like that underneath the suit. Muscles cut and hard, every dip and line carved into him, but his skin stayed smooth beneath your touch, warm wherever your hands moved over him.
Your palms dragged slowly down his abs, and a breath escaped his lips from where his mask was lifted just high enough to expose them. His hips bucked beneath you too, always did when you were taking longer than he wanted. Not that he’d ever say that, but he didn’t have to. His body spoke for him anyway, lifting into you again when your fingers reached the lowest ridge of his stomach.
His hands found your thighs, moving slowly up the outside of them until they reached your hips, his fingers spreading there before his grip tightened around you.
Your fingertips traveled higher, smoothing over the hard planes of his chest, though they didn’t stay there for long before finding their way right back down to his abdomen. You traced the lines of his core again, following each one while the thought that had been sitting at the back of your mind started working its way forward.
“I wanna try something,” you finally said.
“Yeah?” His mouth curved slightly where the mask stopped above it, his hips lifting to grind himself into you where you straddled him. “What’s that?”
Your palms smoothed over his abs again, feeling each muscle flex at the contact while your body closed around nothing, more slick gathering between your thighs from the thought alone.
“I wanna ride you.”
Peter shifted almost immediately, his hands moving at your hips like he was already getting ready to help you line yourself up over him. “Yeah,” he said, a little too quickly, breath already turning rougher. “Yes, I would also very much like that.”
You shook your head and pressed your palms flatter to his torso, dragging them over the hard muscle once more. “No. Not there.”
He stilled.
“Here,” you said, rubbing slowly over his abs so there was no chance he could misunderstand. Your eyes lifted to the white lenses of his mask, searching them even though you couldn’t see what was happening behind them. “Can I?”
Peter didn’t answer right away. Mostly because he was confused, not by what you meant now, but by the fact that he’d never thought about it, not once, and now that he was, his cock jumped between you hard enough for you to feel it. Then did it again while the image settled properly in his head, you moving over his stomach, using him like that, and somehow the silence only stretched longer.
You read the silence completely wrong.
“I was just asking,” you said quickly, already starting to move away. “We don’t have to, I just thought maybe you’d—”
“No, no, no.” Peter’s hold changed at once, keeping you from moving too far. “It’s fine. I just, uh…”
You waited, watching the lenses narrow slightly as though he was trying to figure out how to say it without making himself sound stupid.
“Have you ever tried it before?”
“No,” he admitted, then stumbled straight into the rest before he could lose his nerve. “But I want to. I mean, if you still want to.”
A soft hum left you as you nodded, the sound low and pleased enough to make him tense under your touch. His hold softened then giving you room to move, letting you climb a little higher over him as your thighs spread along either side of his torso.
Peter could already feel the heat coming off you before you even lowered yourself, that little space between your body and his turning warmer by the second. You sank down slowly, your slick meeting the hard planes of his core, and the breath that left him came out just as uneven as yours. You moved once, just a small roll of your hips, watching the muscles jump from the wet drag of you, then did it again when his stomach tightened and met you harder.
Just like that, your pace picked up without you meaning for it to, nails curling into his chest as you rocked faster, chasing every ridge and dip between your thighs. You felt all of him there, each carved muscle rubbing across your clit, every shallow indent catching you differently when you shifted your weight, and the more it worked, the less careful you got. Your hips kept moving, wetter now, messier, dragging over him again and again while your mouth fell open around another soft sound and you chased the friction like you couldn’t get enough.
Peter was right there with you. Normally, he was better than this, more giving, more in control, but seeing you ride him like that stripped all of it away. He couldn’t stop staring at the way your body moved over his, at the wet sheen you left across his abs each time you rolled forward, coating every muscle until his skin glistened in the low light. Your name left his mouth raw and breathless, one palm finding your thigh while the other settled at your waist, every sharpened sense filling with the sound of your little whines, the heat between your legs, the slick drag of you using his body to get yourself off.
You were getting close, your rhythm starting to falter even as you tried to keep going, each roll turning shorter and less even when the pleasure gathered too fast. Peter felt you rise by an inch, your body trying to escape the pressure for one second, but his palms closed around your hips and kept you right where you were. He brought you down firmly, holding your weight over him while he moved you himself, grinding you across him faster, harder, making sure every hard line stayed exactly where you needed it as your breath frayed into helpless moans above him.
Cries and curses spilled from your lips together, each one climbing higher as Peter worked your hips over him, refusing to let the friction ease even when your thighs started trembling along his sides. Your palms planted flat on his chest when it finally snapped, your orgasm tearing through you so hard your whole body locked over him, hips jerking through the first sharp wave before you started shaking. You came with a strangled moan caught in your throat, slick spreading messier across his skin as he kept you moving through every last spasm.
Feeling you tense and shudder over him sent Peter over just as hard. His body lifted from the mattress, abs flexing under you while his jaw locked and his head pressed farther into the sheets, every vein along his neck standing out as a rough sound tore from his throat. It gave way to ragged breaths and strained groans while he came across himself, thick streaks landing low over his skin and stopping just short of your ass as you kept riding out the last of your orgasm above him.
Things started to slow, started to settle, your weight still resting over him while you tried to catch your breath. Your thighs trembled at his sides, skin damp, chest rising and falling as the last of it worked through you, but he was still fighting the hypersensitivity underneath it all. He felt every shift of your body, every faint drag of your slick over his abdomen, every small change in temperature where you stayed pressed to him, and none of it was helping him come down.
He’d never done anything like that, never even thought about it until you asked. But now that he had, now that he knew how good your pussy felt sliding over him, how wet you left him, how easily he could keep you right where he wanted and feel you come apart on top of him, there was only one thought left in his head, one question already slipping out beneath the lifted edge of his mask.
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! i’m happy to do it! :) just let me know if you want all works or just for specific characters <3
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Javi is determined to train your ass once again and even rewards you in the end.
Contains: smut, anal sex, vaginal fingering, dubcon, painful sex, angst, oral sex (f & m receiving), finger sucking, hair pulling, breast play, pet names, cum on body, dirty talk, rough blow job, face fucking, degradation, praise, power imbalance, spanking, manhandling, size kink, possessive and manipulative Javi, vulnerability, subby/whiny reader, dom/sub dynamic, crying, gun kink (only mentioned), established relationship
Wordcount: 7,022
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When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was groan quietly, quickly turning onto your side.
Your night had been uneasy. You remembered waking up a few times, and even while you had been sound asleep, it seemed as though the quiet hadn't given you the much-needed rest. The moment you had been startled awake by the anxiousness in your stomach, pulse racing, you felt like you hadn't gotten a single minute of sleep.
Now, it was almost seven. Since it was Saturday, there was no need for Javi and you to get up early, and therefore there was no alarm you were waiting for to go off. All you could do was lie on your side as comfortably as possible and stare at the wall.
Your butt was sore, which made you assume that the sting was the main reason for your light sleep. Usually, you slept on your back, so you had surely suffered from instinctively turning in the night and being met with that pungent ache spreading in your backside.
It felt like someone had poured a can of acid over your skin. Was that pain normal? Were you supposed to ask Javi about it? Considering that he had put this idea in the world, he must have known a lot more about when it was time to seriously worry about your physical state.
You stayed in bed for another hour, even though you didn't thoroughly enjoy it the way you normally did. Being snuggled up underneath the blanket for the entire morning was one of your favorite activities on a Saturday, but with your body constantly shifting, every draw of a muscle starting a brand new wildfire searing across your skin, you couldn't help but count the seconds until your boyfriend finally woke up. Because leaving the bed without him wasn't an option either.
When Javi blinked a few times, your heart fluttered with relief, and the smile you gave him was nearly genuine.
"Good morning…" you murmured tiredly, crawling a little closer to him, even though your ass immediately complained about the sudden move.
"Morning, cariño… You're up early. I thought I'd be the one to wake you."
"I didn't sleep very well." You shrugged, bringing up your left hand to rest your head on it.
"Did you have a nightmare?" Javi asked and wrapped an arm around you, placing his flat palm on your lower back as he tugged you closer.
As a response, you sharply exhaled through your clenched teeth, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.
"Don't," you hissed, squirming away from his touch. "I'm so sore."
It wasn't so bad that you would have felt the need to cry, after all, you had survived the night that had involved a lot more turning and shifting, but with his brown eyes boring into your cheeks and his raspy morning voice lulling you in, you couldn't help but feel particularly whiny and clingy.
"Right… Of course you are." He grinned faintly but let go of your back, putting his hand on the side of your head instead. "Look at me."
You obeyed, feeling incredibly tiny and vulnerable under his intense gaze.
"You did well, hermosa. Really well. And you're gonna do even better next time."
Next time.
Your heart cramped painfully, but you didn't consider disagreeing either. Right now, you couldn't imagine yourself in this kind of position again, but if he was right, the pain would fade in a matter of days. Still, the idea that Javi just naturally assumed that this would be a regular thing unsettled you.
Sure, he had already mentioned his plans last night, but with the sting clinging to your bum like a second layer of skin, you felt horrified. What if it just wouldn't get better over time and you would have such a bad night's rest every time he fucked you in the ass? What if you simply didn't have the strength to satisfy him the way he wanted?
"But not today, right?" you whispered, because it was easier than explaining those thoughts ripping apart your inner calm to him. Besides, there was always a chance with Javi that he wouldn't find them significant, which would leave you feeling ridiculous.
"No, not today," he muttered and stretched his neck to kiss your brow. "If you're sore, we're gonna wait until it's better. We don't want your pretty butt to hurt, right?" You wondered where that sentiment had been last night, but you didn't say that out loud.
"Okay… When is it gonna be better, Javi?" You looked up at him through round eyes, taking in the scrunch of his nose, how he roamed down your front until he twisted his lips.
"I don't know. But I guess you'll be much better tomorrow. So maybe we're gonna try again the day after tomorrow."
"And what if it's just not gonna get better?" you voiced your biggest fear. You hadn't quite been in control of that thought bursting out of you, but now that it was hanging in the air, you felt much freer in your tense shoulders.
"What do you mean, sweetheart?"
"I mean… it really hurts, Javi. And it – I think it's worse than last night. So I'm thinking – it's gonna get better, right? It's normal, isn't it?"
He chuckled gently, which was a better reaction than you had anticipated. A second later, he pressed his lips against your forehead again, toying with your messy strands.
"Of course it is… You think I'd do something like that to you? Something that will leave permanent damage? It's normal to hurt. It's gonna be fine, cariño."
"I just…" you stammered breathlessly, trembling hand moving up to his bicep. "I just wanna be good for you, Javi…"
It was a simple phrase, but it represented the turmoil ravaging your chest well. Even your fear about the sting being constant company from now on was rooted in your need to make him happy. Your butt aching meant not being able to be fucked by him, which consequently would disappoint him. Everything could be traced back to him.
"But you are, sweetie," Javi murmured, shushing you as you buried your face in his shoulder.
You didn't know why you were in such a horrible mood since Javi was a lot more affectionate and kind than on most days, but you guessed that it was a combination of multiple things, ranging from the distress you had experienced last night and not sleeping well to the static dread swelling in your throat in the form of a fat lump.
"Listen, cariño, we're gonna go downstairs now. I'm gonna carry you if that's what you need. Then, I'm gonna make us some coffee, we're gonna eat something and after that, I'm gonna apply a salve to your sweet butt. That's gonna help with the pain."
"You have a salve?" you asked softly, so surprised by his words that you forgot the tears for an instant.
"Of course… I always take care of you, don't I?"
He smirked wryly, his gaze drifting downward to your hips.
You wondered what he was thinking, given the way his eyes sparkled, but you didn't find out, and you didn't ask him either.
Two days later, Javi came home from work later than you had expected.
By the time you heard his key in the lock, the sun had already set, and you sat at the table with your chin resting on your palm.
"Javi," you spoke accusingly in his direction, straightening up while he let his bag fall to the ground with a thud.
"Hey, sweetheart."
You had anticipated his first words to be an explanation for why he was so late, but instead, your boyfriend put his coat on the hook perfectly calmly. Meanwhile, you were staring holes into the back of his head.
"You're late."
Javi didn't answer. He didn't even show any physical reaction and just ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward you.
"You're late, Javi. It's almost 8."
He still didn't reply, leaning down to your level to kiss your forehead the way he always did when he said goodbye in the morning or greeted you after work.
"I got a surprise for you, babygirl."
"What surprise?" you snapped, lips pursed. Your tone was rude, and so was your hostile posture, but it reflected what was going on inside you precisely.
"You're not gonna be so sulky once I show it to you… I picked up something on my way home."
He reached into his bag that he had placed next to the table leg. After some rustling, he pulled out a wine red box, which he put in front of you, wearing a smirk.
"What is that?"
"Open it," he commanded and leaned back in his chair with his legs spread, looking like he fully knew that his surprise was going to land well.
"Alright…"
You forgot that you were supposed to be mad as the curiosity his mysterious gift had sparked was too strong to ignore. You assumed that it was something sexy, considering that this came from Javi. New lingerie perhaps, that he expected to see on your body as early as tonight.
Oh. Your jaw dropped slightly as you took in the small object seductively placed in the center of the box, which was lined with velvet on the inside. A butt plug. In the same dark scarlet shade. Of course, you should have guessed it. Javi had announced that he was going to buy you one three days ago, you just hadn't expected him to follow through so soon.
"It's pretty," you hummed, because it was true. Even though the item still intimidated you in some strange way, you liked the color and the way it was presented to you in that box.
"I know it is. I knew you were gonna like it. You can touch it if you want."
He watched you through narrow eyes as you took the plug out of the box and regarded it in the dim light of your shared apartment.
"You bought this? Today?"
"I did. I told you, I wanted you to wear pretty plugs that match your dresses. I thought I was gonna start with scarlet." It was true, you owned a short dress in a similar color. Javi really had thought this through, hadn't he?
"Do… Do you want me to wear it?" you whispered, his words from back then still ringing in your ears. He had told you that he was going to take your ass again, and against all odds you had been looking forward to it as well. You wanted it to go easier this time, and the only way to find out if it would was to try it. Even though right now, the idea of reviving that soreness in your backside made you all nervous and jittery.
"Oh no, baby… Why would I want that? When my cock's right there to fill it…"
Your mouth went dry, and you lifted your gaze to meet Javi's mischievously glinting eyes. He had his arms crossed over his chest, radiating confidence and self-assurance like no one else could.
"You – You're gonna do it again? Tonight?"
"Of course, angel. It's time for it again… isn't it? We have to make sure your pretty ass doesn't forget me. You wouldn't wanna start from ground zero again, right?"
You nodded a few times, biting down on your lip.
"This is just for the next few days when I have to be at work but wanna make sure your ass stays nice and open for me when I get back… So that I can just put it in immediately."
He gave the box a gentle pat, then rose to his feet. Slowly, as if he didn't want to startle a deer, he approached you, reaching for your cheek once he was close enough.
"Why don't you get to the bedroom, cariño? While I get myself a glass of water. You get comfortable and you can start touching yourself a little… Just leave your clothes on. Wanna unwrap you like my favorite little gift…"
His breath ghosted over your ear, your arms tingling pleasantly, but then he pulled back after kissing you on the side of your head. A coldness engulfed you so suddenly that you needed a few seconds to register what he had just told you.
While Javi strode toward the kitchen without glancing over his shoulder one more time, you got up as well and left the living room. The way Javi appeared so certain that you would do as you were told, not even bothering to check, impressed you. He snapped his fingers, gave you instructions, and wholly trusted that nothing else was required of him. And rightfully so.
Two minutes later, you lay on your back in the center of the bed, feet planted on the mattress with your legs spread a little. Your right hand was between your legs, slipped past the waistband of your sweatpants, and your left lingered on your lips. As long as Javi wasn't there to feed you his thumb, you nibbled at your own fingernail.
When he appeared in the doorframe, the first thing you felt the need to say was that you were not yet ready to take him in your pussy, only to remember that he didn't plan on doing that either way.
"You look pretty," he scoffed, taking in your lying figure. "Nibbling at your own thumb like that… You need mine instead?"
You nodded a few times, watching your boyfriend walk around the bed, the mattress sighing as he climbed onto it with one knee. Then, he pulled you toward him by your ankles, drawing a small squeal out of you.
"Cariño…" He clicked his tongue, a flash of amusement crossing his features. "Always so damn nervous… You scared it's gonna hurt?"
"Yes," you whispered, still gnawing on your thumb while Javi yanked down your pants and helped your feet kick them off.
"I told you it's gonna be better. You're only making it worse by being so damn afraid."
Even though you weren't completely convinced by his words, and the idea of worsening your own experience by overthinking put you through distress, your pussy clenched pleasantly when Javi took off his shirt and threw it beside the bed.
His toned upper body was highlighted even better by the golden light in the bedroom. The bright ceiling light was switched off, so the only source of brightness was the lamp on the nightstand, which threw delicious shadows across his chest. Javi must have noticed you staring because he chuckled softly, sliding his hand up your thigh as his focus turned back to you.
"Naughty girl… If you're gonna be good, I might let you cum too. But you know what good, sweet girls have to do, right?"
It wasn't a rhetorical question, so you swallowed and answered. "I have to deserve it."
"That's right." He briefly kissed the tip of your nose, then straightened up again. "I'm gonna fuck your pretty ass again, baby, and I don't wanna have to listen to your little complaints all the time. I want to enjoy your pretty little hole… And you want me to enjoy you, don't you?"
"Yes," you hummed, sucking your lower lip into your mouth as you felt him grip your hips harder. You had expected to be turned onto your stomach, but Javi just manhandled you into lying across the bed the wrong way, your head close to the edge while your feet were at the pillows.
"What – " you began, but your boyfriend cupped your face and glided his thumb past your lips.
"Shhh… I said no complaining. I just want you to be silent and take what I give you. Can't be so fucking hard, can it?" His gaze ghosted over you, his brow furrowed, nostrils flared.
"I'm sorry," you mumbled around his digit, sucking automatically.
"Yeah… I know you like to say that. But I want you to show me."
Javi swiftly undid his belt and jeans, though you barely perceived any of it with your lids shut and your tongue flitting around his thumb. His hand lay heavily on your cheek, and there was something about his touch that made you feel like he wasn't just attempting to distract and soothe you but also to keep you in place while he took off his clothes.
"Open wider."
Your eyes fluttered open, a dreamy fog blurring the edges of your vision.
"Open, cariño. C'mon, don't make me say it twice." He spoke quietly yet his voice carried that dominance and coldness that made your stomach twist every time he used it.
"Good girl."
He fed you his cock slowly, pulling you a little closer to the edge of the bed once he realized that the angle wasn't ideal. And then you were situated nicely, mouth full of him and little moans escaping your throat every time his dick twitched or went another inch deeper.
"That's it. There we go, mhm? Finally something you're good at…" You didn't feel too bad about his comment since wrapping your lips around him always had something grounding and familiar about it. Which you needed desperately after the last couple of days.
You couldn't help but wonder, though. Why wasn't this enough for him? Javi had trained your gag reflex extensively, how deeply and fast he could pound your throat, so that today you were at a point where you barely flinched when he brutally slammed his length all the way in.
And he still wasn't satisfied? He still wanted more and felt the need to claim and train another one of your holes? What were you even doing all of this for when he lost all interest in a matter of a few weeks? Well, technically he was just showing some love to your mouth again, but you still couldn't help feeling somewhere close to unappreciated.
That dull emptiness sitting in your chest soon resulted in tears welling in your eyes, even though they were mostly due to the fact that Javi didn't spare you a glance while fucking your throat. One of your small hiccups shifted his attention to you at last.
"Jesus… Already crying? I didn't even touch your ass yet, baby…"
You sniffled, reaching for his free hand, and fortunately, Javi allowed it. You were able to lace your fingers with his, squeeze them tightly, and consequently felt a lot more settled taking his cock down your tight throat.
"Good girl… You know I don't mind them. You look pretty when you cry. I just don't like it when your pretty little head loses all its focus. We can't let that happen, can we? When we try to make progress… When we try to take care of your sweet butt…"
He sprawled one hand across your chest, covered by one of his large shirts that you liked to put on when you came home from work and Javi wasn't there yet.
For a while, he just played with your breasts and rolled his hips into your face, grunting every time you took him effortlessly. Which was most of the time.
You only had to back out twice because his tip hit the back of your throat at a strange angle and your gag reflex was triggered. You coughed, body jerking while you drove your nails into his wrist, which was Javi's signal to pull back. Because you had been doing pretty well so far, he didn't berate you but just silently waited for your automatic defensive reaction to subside and squeezed your breasts until you had calmed down and were ready for another round.
"That's a good girl, baby, yes… I taught you well, didn't I? Taught you to be still… to let me all the way down your pretty throat. You know we've come a long way, right?"
Without being able to respond, the memories immediately came back to you. You had been horrible in the beginning, but fortunately, Javi was a patient teacher.
He had used your throat every single night, sometimes while he had been reading the newspaper or going over some files from work. At the start, he had held your head in place by your neck, slowly driving his length in and out of you, but at some point he had demanded you make yourself gag on his cock to get used to the sensation.
Sometimes, especially while Javi had been busy doing something else, you had felt humiliated, but at least it was an efficient way of learning. You had been able to spend hours between his legs, bobbing your head around him, forcing yourself to take him yet another inch deeper until he had picked you up by your bicep and carried you to the bedroom to finish what you had started. Even though Javi had occasionally placed a hand on the back of your head to gesture you to halt so that he wouldn't spill in your mouth, you had often wondered how he was capable of so much self-control and didn't accidentally finish inside you after half an hour.
But it didn't matter now, those times were behind you. You had learned a lot, and you were eager to learn just as much about taking him in your ass. Because it was what Javi wanted. And if he wanted something, you always tried your hardest to give it to him until he called you his good girl, kissed your forehead and cradled your head against his chest.
"You don't make it easy… but you learn. You learn, babygirl, 'cause you wanna get better for me," he now spoke, wrenching you from your reminiscing.
His cock was buried all the way inside you now, pulsing hotly in the back of your throat, but it looked like Javi had no intention of moving just yet. He just dug his fingers into the flesh of your breasts, circling your nipple while panting heavily. As always, you felt short of air, but you had learned that it didn't mean you were actually suffocating. You just had to surrender and breathe through your nose instead, trusting that Javi knew what he was doing.
And so it happened, he exhaled a few more times before picking up his pace again, thrusting into your mouth until not just his cock but also your chin and nose were soaked in your own spit and his precum.
"Let's take a look at her, mhm?"
Your eyes opened reflexively even though you couldn't see what he was referring to anyway. Then you felt it at your pussy, Javi's fingers, generously doused with drool, skimming along your slit, teasing your puffy pussy lips. You were beyond what you would call wet, which made your heart a little lighter. If your body reacted to him in such a way, there could be nothing wrong with this, right? Perhaps you had to listen to your gut more instead of overthinking every single detail, panicking about things that weren't even within your control.
"That's it, baby… Drowning my fucking hand. Poor little thing… I neglected her, didn't I?"
Even though you tried so hard not to let it happen, wetness pooled in the corners of your eyes again, just because deep down you so desperately wanted everything to be the way it had been before Javi had told you about his worries regarding the state of your pussy. Then you wouldn't have had to worry about any of these negative thoughts in the first place. This time, you managed to conceal your anxiousness from Javi, who was fully occupied with rubbing through your folds and circling your clit.
"Haven't let her cum in days… I was a little mean to her, wasn't I?"
You blinked again and again, a muscle in your chin twitching and your stomach so unsettled it felt like there were a million bees buzzing inside it.
"I know I was, hermosa. I promise you that if you're gonna be a good girl for me, behave well and let me fuck that pretty ass, I'm gonna make her cum."
Javi's features were surprisingly soft as he slipped his cock out of your mouth, your jaw stinging sharply the moment you were allowed to relax your muscles for the first time in a while.
"What do you think of that, mhm?" he murmured, tracing your chin while his eyes flickered between your face and his hand playing with your heat.
"How?"
"You mean how am I gonna make you cum?"
You nodded.
"Any way you want, cariño."
"I want… mouth."
His lips curled upward, his pupils dilated. "You want my mouth?"
"Yes…" you breathed and already doubted whether you had been too greedy. But then Javi caressed your cheekbone and pressed a loving kiss to your brow.
"Then you're gonna get my mouth, sweetheart. If you obey."
You felt rather hopeful when Javi turned you onto your hands and knees, and that was even though you grew closer to taking his cock in your tight, probably still a little raw hole with every second that passed. As long as he would shower you with love afterward and take care of you with his warm, wet tongue, you were willing to endure a small amount of pain. Aside from that, he appeared to be in a rather good mood today, which you didn't want to ruin by not following his rules.
"Get on your elbows, baby," he instructed and took his position behind you, placing his large hands on the curve of your butt.
"Mhmm, cariño… You know how this fucking butt is what got me through this goddamn week? Knowing that I get to fuck it again in a few days?"
He smacked your flesh once, then gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulled you back to him.
"You don't even know how proud you should be of that pretty little thing… You don't appreciate it enough." Javi's thumb drew a faint circle around the narrow ring, then teased you with just the tip of it. "But I will, cariño, don't worry… I'm gonna give it some love. One of us has to."
Spit trickled onto the muscle, then another drop, and a few minutes later your whole backside was covered in slick wetness. Javi had also picked up the bottle of lube again and coated your hole with it, but given that you had by then sunk into a trance-like reverie, you couldn't really distinguish between the two liquids, though the lube was much cooler to the touch.
It was easy to relax like this, your head hanging while Javi was right behind you and caressed your shoulder every now and then. That you hadn't experienced any pain so far relieved you greatly.
"Good girl… Taking it so well, babygirl, just like that… You see, you relax for me, and everything goes so well. No complaining and no crying… Which means you're gonna get what you want too. We're all gonna be very happy."
You should have known that Javi was going to change something up the moment he said those words. He always became more vocal, whispering sweet things to either distract you or praise you so much that you wouldn't voice your suffering when the effects hit you. But since you had been absent with your thoughts, you hadn't been prepared, and you quietly shrieked when a sharp ache radiated through your lower back. Along with the pressure, you were quick to find out what had caused it.
"Javi…" you whimpered, fingers curling and lips pressed into a thin line. You weren't quite sure which finger he had inserted inside you, but it was long and thick, that much was certain.
"I know, angel, I know it hurts… But remember what I told you, the more you relax, the better it's gonna be. So you know what to do…" Gliding his hand up and down your shoulder blades, Javi continued slowly, moving his finger just an inch inside you, but it was enough for your back to arch.
Fuck, you had assumed that this was going to be easier. And it was just his finger. How the fuck had you ever been capable of taking his cock? But then, with some more effort and a large amount of lube smeared across your muscle, the pain faded and your tears dried. You could detect a difference in how quickly you were able to overcome the hurt compared to last time, and you also found that your body was faster to adjust to the size of his finger. So he added a second and then a third, though you jerked away slightly both times.
"No, babygirl, you're staying right here… No reason to try and run," he muttered and seized your neck, gently pressing you into the mattress. "Everything's fine… I got you. You're gonna get my cock soon, angel — is that what you want? You want me to put it inside?"
"Yes," you breathed, forcing deep breaths out of your lungs so you wouldn't get dizzy from the pain.
"Gonna fill you up all the way… I just know it's gonna feel like my dick's getting ripped off. Tight little thing."
He pulled his fingers back and then pushed them forward until they were knuckle-deep inside you.
"Wish you could see it, sweetheart… I'm gonna take a picture later when I got my dick inside. She's working so hard, hermosa, she's trying her best. I know it hurts, baby, but she's just stretching for me like she's meant to."
You choked on your breath, hand splayed out across the blanket as Javi's fingers moved again. It was an exhausting process, just like last time, but you handled it once again. The one thing that kept you going, besides pleasing Javi, was the knowledge that the next thrust was going to be easier than the one before.
When he stilled inside you, you were proud to say that you hadn't shed another tear, which was a major success when you looked back.
"Good girl," he whispered, prompting you to smile gently, even though he couldn't see it of course. That was what it was all about.
"Are you ready for it, cariño? Ready to take my cock again?" You felt his hand right above your butt cheeks, but he didn't put any pressure on it.
"Yes," you murmured, feeling not as torn as you had earlier. Maybe his techniques were helpful after all, maybe everything was easier the moment you began surrendering to him.
"You know what to do, sweetheart. Just have to relax, that's all… I'm gonna take care of the rest."
Javi drew a heavy breath, humming lowly as he nudged the tip of his cock against your ring. The feeling was the same as it always had been, intense pressure, and you wondered if it would even fit. There was no way it would.
"Relax, hermosa… Gotta loosen up for me, otherwise it's not gonna work."
For a fraction of a second, you wanted to take it all back. This wasn't any easier than three days ago, if anything, it was worse. Your back gave in, toes curled, and your veins seared as though your blood had been replaced by liquid lava.
"Shhh. It's okay, sweetheart. That's how it's supposed to be, that's it… Just listen to my voice…"
He had seized a few strands at the back of your head, rubbing circles into your scalp while you panted frantically. Then it was over. You had no clue how much Javi had fed you on his first go, but you were more than fine with what you got.
"Good girl," he muttered again, probably because he knew how much you liked to hear that phrase from him. "That's already a lot better, isn't it?"
You tilted your head to the side so that your cheek could comfortably rest on the bed. Javi allowed it and grunted lowly.
"Not much left, sweetheart. Just a little bit more. You think you can take it too?"
Secretly, you struggled to understand why he asked for your permission before every step when he knew exactly that you basically didn't have a choice. At least not if you wanted to stay desirable to him. You couldn't really tell him that he was allowed to fuck your ass but not go all the way inside, right?
"Yes, Javi," you agreed, bracing yourself for another wave of pain that felt like small scorching needles hammering into your backside. At least you knew what to expect and weren't surprised by the sudden sharpness.
Soon, Javi was thrusting into you steadily, gripping your hips to push you back against him while he groaned under his breath. Your own hands were flat on the bed beside your head, your lips pursed in order to focus on your breathing.
Once the pain had gotten better, you started thinking about how it felt compared to last time. Better, definitely. You still doubted that you would ever love this kind of penetration, but at least you didn't count the seconds until he finished.
"Holy fucking shit… This is better than – fuck, everything. You know what I've been thinking about?" He leaned down, which changed the angle a little and caused you to moan. "Been thinking about fucking your little ass in the office. Just bending you over a table, pushing up your skirt and fucking you dumb… You'd have to stay quiet though. And you're really bad at that, aren't you?"
Javi's lips pressed into your skin right below your ear. Then you heard him move and the next moment he had pushed two fingers past your lips, sliding over your tongue the way his cock just had.
"But we can work on that too… I can teach you how to be very quiet. Or I can shut you up with my gun." Your eyes widened, and against all odds, you felt a surge of pleasure rush through your chest. "Yeah, I know you'd like that… You'd lick it clean for me, baby, wouldn't you?"
With a gentle slap delivered to the back of your thigh — he had that much mercy with you, thank god! — Javi suddenly slipped his dick out of your hole and began stroking himself wildly the way he had last time. You curiously glanced over your shoulder, his fingers still secure in your mouth while Javi smirked at the way you sucked on his digits like you had never tasted anything better in your life.
"Fuck… Look at you. My perfect little baby, all obedient and sweet for me… S'how I like you best, sweetheart. Suck on them, that's right. Gotta keep you occupied."
A few more strokes later, thick ropes of his cum hit your ass, painting messy patterns across your skin. It hadn't taken him long to climax, but he had still fucked you longer than last time. You wondered if you would feel the small difference tomorrow when you woke up.
"Jesus Christ… Fuck, look at her… So pretty and pink for me." Javi reverently stared at your used hole, then reached for his phone on the bedside table, only now realizing that he had forgotten his plans to capture the moment. He did it now, though, taking photos of your spent hole from all sides until he sighed and dropped the device again.
"You got two perfect holes, princess… Both just for me, mhm? Just like the rest of you."
He crawled to your level, lying on his side and tucking your head under his chin.
"You took it like a good girl, sweetheart. And you know what that means, right?"
You were still on your knees, but at his words your knees quivered a little and you threatened to lose your already scarce balance.
"Yes?" you hummed, all puppy-eyed and needy for him to take care of you in a soft and careful way for once. A way that wouldn't cause you any pain.
"Yes, baby. Lie down for me, okay?"
You obeyed at once, even though you winced and exhaled through your clenched teeth when you sank into the mattress butt first. It didn't matter though, that kind of pain was tolerable as long as it would be overcast by his warm tongue attached to your pussy.
"Good girls get what they want, cariño," Javi said as he moved to your legs, parting them a little further to get access to your cunt. "You were very good. So I'm gonna reward you. You said you wanted my tongue…"
He teasingly leaned down to kiss your hipbone, his hand skimming up your stomach while the fabric of your shirt bunched up under his fist. He let go of it once it was tangled under your arms and traced the swell of your breasts.
"Yes, Javi," you breathed sleepily, thrusting out your arms to reach any part of his body. It was his hand that he gave you, lacing his fingers with yours and moving them to rest beside your body.
"You want it right here?" He kissed your mound, his mustache scraping your sensitive skin.
"Yes."
"Here as well?"
Wandering downward with his mouth, he drew out the giggles bubbling in the back of your throat, your free hand reaching up to sprawl across the one resting on top of your chest. You liked staring down your body and admiring how much larger his hand was and how prominent his veins were.
"What about… here?" He took your clit between his warm lips, hollowing his cheeks while you squirmed and felt your heartbeat quicken.
"Y-Yes. Yes, Javi, right there."
Unfortunately, he let go with a pop after a few seconds, but darted his tongue out to circle it with quick expertise.
"Poor little thing… She needs it so bad, doesn't she? She was so neglected these past days… But don't worry, querida, I haven't forgotten her. Never will."
Javi's hand grew firmer on your breasts, his fingers leaving white marks where he touched you. Then he finally let go and fully dove in. He made out with your pussy like there was no tomorrow, didn't care about his whole face getting soaked in your juices and didn't even bother to watch your reactions.
While your teeth were clenched hard and your grip around both his hands grew more forceful the more time passed, your boyfriend seemed thoroughly blissful getting lost in your scent and taste, given the way he pressed up against your pussy.
"F-Fuck. Javi, fuck," you cursed, which gave Javi cause to interrupt his intense, sloppy session to briefly glance up at you, tenderly squeezing your left breast, then your right.
"Pretty little thing… And so sensitive." He was referring to your bundle of nerves, of course, which was nudging his lip at that moment. "You need more, baby?"
"Yes," you whimpered, arching off the bed when he blew some warm air over your clit just the way you adored it.
"Gonna make you cum so good, babygirl. 'Cause you deserve it… She deserves it for being so brave for me."
It was just a matter of time until you couldn't hold back anymore. You had already been overly sensitive to his touch from the start, but now, with Javi putting his whole heart into stimulating you right where you longed for him the most, you lasted about another five minutes before you unraveled with a high squeal and drove your nails into the back of his hand.
He talked you through it, of course, and you hadn't expected anything else.
"That's it, princess, breathe… Just like that, yes. Breathe for me…" His words were muffled since his face was pressed against your pussy, catching every drop of your wetness as if it were the world's tastiest and most generous wine. He kissed you just about everywhere, your clit, your hole and even up your thigh while you spasmed and mewled uncontrollably, head swaying to the side.
Then, the moment you first flinched and jolted away from his tongue, Javi pulled back, carefully freeing his hands from your grasp to put them on your thighs.
"My pretty angel…" he groaned, probably moved and equally amused by the sight of your tousled hair and hooded eyes, and crawled up to your level.
"Was that what you wanted, princesa? Did you like that?"
You nuzzled his collarbone, shifting as close to him as humanly possible in order to bury your face in his neck. Meanwhile, Javi's arms wrapped around your back and pulled you closer whenever you lacked the strength to do so yourself.
"Yes… So good, Javi."
He grinned, nostrils flaring while he trailed along the stitching of your — or rather his — t-shirt.
He couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment you had fallen asleep, but when he noticed your even and calm breathing and your closed eyes, he wasn't surprised. He had put you through a lot today, starting with the special little gift he had gotten you.
The mere memory of the pretty item made his stomach coil. He couldn't wait to act on all the things he had in mind for you. Half of them, you didn't even know about yet. You would soon, though, perhaps he could start by making you go to work with the plug inside tomorrow.
Javi grinned, pressed one more kiss to your hair and then allowed his heavy lids to shut as well.
