Summary: Nothing Julian does or tries to achieve seems to be going right so after getting a bit tipsy he decides to try something else with his assistant to ease his conscience
Warning: 18+, shameless smut, P in V, fingering (fem receiving), angst if you squint really hard, boss x assistant trope
words: 1.4k
He was enraged. Everything he has done so far has gone to shit, nothing so far is going according to his plan and he was frustrated. He forcefully reclined his office chair and he threw his head back bringing both the palms of his hands to his eyes in frustration. You look up from your laptop screen. A sight indeed, him sprawled out behind his huge desk while the rain decorates the window with intricate water droplets paired with the dusky skies and somber moon behind him. His hands on his face, the tension from frustration and his sleeves causing every vein in his pale thick forearms to seize highlighting them because of his rolled up sleeves with his brown locks decorating his forehead, his torso tight from how low he was sitting you can almost see his abs through his button up and his feet far apart due to his man spreading habit. While you were shamelessly admiring he suddenly got up and went to the couch next to the wine cabinet and layed down sighing on his way down.
“Y/N would you pour me a glass?” You would have definitely not obliged had this not been your super fine and sexy boss that you are attracted to and had been just the boss you were working with. So you stood up pretending to close your laptop as if you were doing work. You picked out some random overpriced wine that these rich douchebags can afford and got his favourite whiskey glass and poured him when. When you circled around the couch to hand it to him he quickly in one swift motion sat up to welcome the glass into his hands. You gave him the glass and he swallows it all in one gulp his adam’s apple bobbing as he does then he man spread once again pulling you in between his legs while you are standing by snaking his arms around your waist putting the glass aside. “who knew the famous Julian Dillinger got so handsy when drunk”.
“Nah I’d do this to you even if I wasn’t”
“Oh really?”
“you want me to show you what else I can do?”
His grip around your waist loosed as he grabbed your hips with his hands and pulled you down instead landing u flush against his lap. He leans in and at first you move backwards unsure of what would possibly be at stake. Would you get fired? Would you be told to quit? Annoyed he grabs you by the neck and pulls you closer then smashes his lips against yours hard. That’s all it took to throw everything that could possibly happen in the future out the window and you kissed him back pushing forwards on him. You can feel him smirk through the kiss and to assert your position you set the pace of the kiss. He soon pulls away and goes down to your neck instead kissing and sucking all the way down to where your shirt stopped him. “May I?” You nod hastefully and he slides your shirt over head and goes back to his rampant attacks on your neck and when he sucks on a certain sweet spot your grip on the back of his neck thightens. “pretty girl likes that doesn’t she” he then continues decorating you in purple marks that are for sure going to be a pain to hide the next day.
He then gets up hands on your ass and puts you down on your back on the couch and moves your skirt upwards moving your panties to the side. He drags his fingers up your slick “this wet already and all we did was kiss?”
“shut the fuck up”
“oooo feisty I like it”
He then inserts a digit, then two and because you were taking it so well he got back up and unbuttoned his pants pulling down his boxers briskly while his belt was clanking. He then slowly sunk into you while you were letting out slurred sounds and once he was fully in he teased “least you could say is thank you”. You rolled your eyes and let him continue at his pace. It was rough and brutal, so quick as if he didn’t care you were there only chasing his own orgasm “fuck baby you feel so good, spread your legs like this for all ur bosses”
“n-no just you”
His thrusts were punishing, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing all throught you body and pleasure that felt almost sinful to be consuming under this much intensity. It was like you could feel his presence comsume you, his scent, his headand moreover the power he thought he held over you.
“Julian, fuck!” you exclaimed as you pulled his hair.
“why are you being so mean today” he whined
“that’s for making me pour your glasses like I’m ur fucking escort”
If this had been any other time you would have never replied with that much attitude to the boss who hired you but he was fucking you senseless and you had lost all composure at this point. That ticked him off so he pushed your legs to your chest and pushed somehow he went even more deeper that you didn’t even know was possible and was stretching you out in ways you didn’t even know was possible. You started letting out sweet sinful sounds that he was afraid people would hear so he crashed his lips against yours in a failed attempt to conceal your moans. “aww pretty girl was just a little pent up.” You dug your nails into his back top to bottom and earned a mellow whimper escape him. His pace started to falter and you could tell he was close and he could tell you were close too so he brought his hand frm the side of your head that he was using to stabilize himself to your clit and that was enough to send you over the edge and the way you clenched around him whne you were coming down from your high sent him straight to his and he came inside you slamming into your one last time while letting out a string of disheaveled words not even able to form a sentence. All you could focus on was Your orgasm mixed with him dripping down your thighs. He collapsed on top of you putting down his full weight on you until he suddenly pulled himself together and got up. He started to drag his button up over his head and fixed the top button then pulled his trousers back on leaving you on his couch. You quickly snapped back into reality and started dressing yourself while sitting on his couch and when you got up to leave he smacked your ass. You yelped and shot him a look of annoyance and disgust and he had a dumb founded look on his face with his eyebrows knitting together and said “what, not like ive never seen it bare before”. You rolled your eyes and got to your desk and started collecting your things and packing them. “Hey boss, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” “No you’re not,” he shot back. You shot him a smile and left while he sat at his desk visibly annoyed at your newfound habit.
Authors note: I apologise if the endings right, this is only my second fic after my bob fanfic that didnt' do quite well i never finished the second part, but thank you to everyone who gave me support on that 100 is not less and I am so thankful to everyone that supported me for it. This is just a one part fic to my one and only man julian cuz he has me so whipped up but barely any material, enjoy the read, reblog+like if you can and you will surely see more from me bleh, signing off.
cw: MDNI!! dubcon (bc there's an aphrodisiac involved), oral (f!receiving), fingering, lots of dirty talk, unprotected p in v, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers!!, HUNGRY peter
masterlist, taglist, and kinktober 2025 masterlist!
you weren't sure when it became a habit to sneak into the chemistry building after hours with peter to help him work on his web fluid; all you knew was it was your turn to pay for the pizza.
it was nearing midnight as your full belly laughs echoed through the empty lab, crusts long forgotten on the table behind you, as you lost yourself in a story. peter's smile was visible through prickling tears.
he knew it was a bad idea to invite you from the start — there was no shot in hell he'd get any work done as long as you were around him. peter had figured that out by the senior year of high school: he just couldn't seem to focus on anything other than you. he began to lie and say he was finished with his homework whenever you would hang out, covering his lack of progress in your presence.
peter had been distracted by you for the last few years, yet he could never seem to resist your company anyway. he beamed as you laughed at your own joke, relishing in the alone time he got to spend with the one person who made him feel like himself.
you let out a snort, and peter was done for, tears in his own eyes as he joined you in hearty laughter. he reached down and grabbed a vial through blurry vision, adding the final touch to his web fluid 3.0.
except that, instead of a sticky web-like substance, peter was met with a bright flash of hot pink from the liquid in the beaker before a cloud of magenta powder exploded from the glass, dusting the room, and in turn, you and peter.
he was on you instantly, shielding you from the flying shards of glass before the beaker even burst, though the aerosol impact was inevitable. the reaction was quick to hit your lungs, dragging out hoarse coughs, rough and heavy in your chest as you fought to regain a sense of your surroundings.
the headache was almost immediate as peter leaned down to say something, and you winced as you looked up at him.
"what?"
"are you okay? did you get cut at all?" peter frantically examined for any tears in your sweatshirt, checking your hands for any possible nicks.
"i'm okay, rea—woah," peter placed a hand on your jaw to inspect your face, and the touch activated something deep inside of you.
suddenly, you felt the hottest you'd ever been, and the headrush made you weak in the knees. your vision began to cloud, senses on overdrive as you felt an aching pain rising in your chest. meeting peter's gaze with panicked eyes, you began to really take in the state of the situation.
"peter, what did you just mix?"
"i-i don't know, i must've grabbed the wrong thing..." he trailed off as he turned to search through the drawers, but the movement stopped him dead in his tracks.
peter was instantly met with a rush of vertigo, the room spinning violently around him as he braced himself on the countertop. he felt like he did when he was first bitten: hypersensitive and overwhelmed. fuck, what did he mix?
amidst the rest of the world in his ears, peter picked up on the sound of your heartbeat and immediately knew something was wrong. really wrong. he took a moment to analyze you, everything moving in slow motion as he fought to figure out what the hell he mixed together, and where these symptoms were headed.
your current state didn't give him much comfort; peter quickly noticed how you were starting to sweat, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, despite not having left your chair. your full-body flush made him wonder if he looked just as disheveled.
"are you feeling okay?" peter asked, heavy with concern and guilt.
you shook your head at him, words fighting to escape your trembling lips. "i-i don't know. i feel... warm. i don't know."
and then peter felt it. his cock twitched, and he realized for the first time how painfully hard he was. he looked down in horror, hoping you hadn't yet noticed in your own haze. peter quickly sat down again to cover the evidence, praying to any god who was listening that this wasn't happening.
while successful in his concealment, the slight friction in the movement of his pants was enough to elicit a groan from his throat; he hoped you didn't hear.
but you did. because each little noise he made, conscious or not, egged on every dirty fucking thought you were having right now. and about peter. in front of peter.
"maybe we should get some... some fresh air, or something," peter says weakly.
as you nodded in response and moved to get up, it became horribly apparent to peter that he had to stand up with you, and not only would you also know just how hard he was, but the friction alone might be enough to kill him.
and then he had a thought:
are you feeling this way too?
no, don't think like that. that's your best friend, and whatever's happening, clearly neither of you was in your right mind.
but peter had always felt this way about you. this time, it was just so physically painful for some reason. what the fuck was in that beaker?
he didn't have any more time for his mind to race, as you stood from your stool and he watched your knees buckle underneath you. peter rushed to stabilize you, grabbing your shoulders and keeping you steady. it was pointless, though. somehow, the feeling of peter's hand against you knocked your breath out, far worse than falling ever would've.
you had no idea what was going on, but it was getting harder and harder to think about anything other than peter (as if that wasn't the norm anyway, bffr). but this was heightened. this was all of your wildest desires pulled to the forefront of your mind in the middle of your ochem 403 lab at 11pm on a tuesday night.
what the fuck was going on with you?
you tried to shake off the way peter's touch relieved some of the haze clouding your brain, and tried to shake off the feeling that maybe he was also feeling this way. your thighs clenched at the thought — that peter was also thinking of every possible way to take you on this counter right now.
but this was your best friend, and you needed to get your shit together long enough to handle whatever this feeling was on your own.
"woah, are y'okay?" peter slurred, your body heat under his palms radiating down to the rest of his body and nearly sending him down as well.
"i... i don't know, i think..." you stuttered out, not trusting anything coming from your mouth right now. "i-i think i have to go, i'm, i'm not feeling well."
you turned to make a run for it, hoping to get out of peter's sight before you either passed out or pounced on him. he stopped you, though, grabbing your hand with a pleading "wait!" falling from his lips.
before you could stop it, a whimper escaped from your lips at his touch, and you went bright red in seconds, hand flying up to cover the unexpected noise.
peter didn't help as he stared at you with his mouth agape, pupils blown to shit. he looked fucked out beyond belief and you'd barely even touched.
you cleared your throat, hoping to get out as coherent and PG a sentence as you could. "peter i-i feel really weird. a-and, i think i'm freaking the fuck out."
knowing you were hurting as much as he was broke his heart, and peter struggled to put all his energy into focusing on you. "i know, it's okay, bug. just take some deep breaths, a-and let's try to make it outside, yeah?"
he tried to pull you, but your legs forgot how to work, and you were frozen where you were, breath quick as everything grew downright painful.
peter's breathing picked up as he heard you hyperventilating, panicking himself as he watched you crumble in front of you. he needed to find out what was in that vile, and fast.
but all he could fucking think about was being on his knees in between your thighs.
fuck.
"p-peter, please. please, i-i, i need your help. you have to make this stop."
"fuck— it'll be okay, i promise. i'll do whatever i need to get you better. i-i just..." he clamped his eyes shut, desperately trying to come up with a way to make an antidote of some kind without dying or ruining your friendship along the way.
"peter... i—"
"what?" he cut you off, concern heavy in his tone.
despite his ever-growing problem, peter reached out to cup your cheek, and though not an unnatural thing to do, it was one definitely influenced by a gravity drawing him towards the feeling of your skin on his.
you stared at his lust-blown eyes, wondering if yours looked the same. wondering if he felt the same.
peter spoke your name softly, his thumb grazing your cheek softly and lingering far too closely to your lips to not mean anything.
fuck it.
you grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, nearly headbutting him in the process as you locked onto his lips, surprised when you felt him immediately reciprocate and tangle his hands in your hair. everything about the kiss was desperate, and the feeling of peter all over you was fucking radiant.
peter was nothing but a moaning mess against you, sloppy and wet against your lips as he pleaded your name as though each time he said it, it took away the pain in his chest. truthfully, it did.
peter pulled away to take a breath, and the lack of contact brought the sharp pain immediately back, earning a whine to fall from his lips. he shook it off, grabbing the sides of your face and doing his best to refocus.
"f-fuck, should we talk about this?" peter asked relectantly.
"i-i don't know. i don't know what's happening right now, pete. all i know is that i need you to touch me. anything, please. i'm sorry. just, please make it go away."
yeah, you could talk about it later.
"nonono, hey. im so sorry, baby, this is all my fault. i'll do whatever you need, i mean it. i'll make it better, i promise."
peter pulled you back into a hungry kiss, rough hands roaming your body in a way he'd never touched you before. the feeling of your curves under his palms was only something he'd dreamed of, and peter was insufferably hard as he pulled you into him further.
there was a nag in the back of his mind, something telling him to stop before you did something you'd regret. because there was no possible way he had you, his best friend, tangled in his arms and lips heavy on his own. and yeah, peter had been smitten with you since the day you met, but he was never going to do anything about it. you didn't feel that way about him, of course. right?
cause right now, you kinda did.
no! fuck! just the chemicals! this was a one-time thing, friends helping friends.
yeah, friends helping friends.
but the pretty little moans that came out of your mouth as peter trailed his way down your neck? those sounded awfully more than just friendly. and the way you whined as he moved his hands up your waist, palming your tits through your shirt as he growled for permission in your ear? peter was never going to be able to look you in the eyes after tonight.
but right now, he was entranced as you bunched his shirt fabric in your hands and begged for it off, pulling the material over his head and immediately attacking his firm chest with a series of hickeys. you shifted your hands down towards his waistband, tugging him by his belt loops as you left a wet, hot trail of kisses down his abs. peter couldn't help but cant his hips forward into you, absolutely fucking losing his mind.
his own hands made their way around your frame, trailing down to your ass and grabbing hard. you gasped at the feeling, then lost your breath fully as peter nipped at your ear and told you to jump. he caught your thighs, shifting to set you on the lab counter and wedging his body between your legs.
everything was hot and heavy, and the effects were evolving and worsening. it was growing stronger with each touch, and though feeling each other was helping ease the pain, the need for more was growing too strong to ignore.
you pulled away from him, tears threatening to spill from your doe eyes as you stared up at peter, who didn't look much better.
"what? what is it, what do you need, baby?"
"i-i... i need you to touch me, pete."
peter went pale at your confession. it was asked so quietly, but it held so much weight. weight he'd think about after he got to find out what you tasted like.
with a deep rumble in his chest and another sloppy kiss to your neck, peter began to fumble his way around your waistband, asking you a thousand extra times if this was okay.
yeah, i fucking think so.
peter's index fingers hooked the hips of your pants; feeling his hands on your bare skin for the first time covered you in goosebumps. it was numbing the pain in your chest and igniting something in it all the same. you were so caught up in the moment, gobsmacked over peter parker, your best friend of six years, tugging your pants down, that you almost didn't notice that he'd pulled them back up.
your cheeks instantly bloomed in mortification. "fuck, i-im sorry, i-i don't know what's come over me—"
"no! stop apologizing, please. i just..." peter took a dramatic pause, and the only thing that could be heard was the two of you heavily panting, taking in the scene unfolding before you as the pain hammered in each of your chests.
"i need to tell you something before anything else happens."
you gave him a worried look, and peter returned it with a heavy sigh.
"i don't know what the fuck is happening right now, and why i feel like im fucking going to die if you don't touch me right now, and this is all my fault and i'm so fucking sorry—"
"peter. what's wrong?"
well, we're already in this deep.
"i don't know what fuck-ass aphrodiasic i just created, but i need you to know that the real me means this too. i can't let anything happen without you knowing that i love you, and this still means something to me. even if i'm not myself right now. a-and i'll do whatever you need me to do, and we can never talk about this again, but you don't deserve me keeping that from you."
you sat on the counter, stunned, as peter anxiously bit his lip, worried he'd just fucked up one of the best relationships that had ever happened to him. and he was still so fucking hard.
the only response you gave him was hopping off the counter and taking your bottoms off for him.
and peter was immediately on you again.
he had a hand rough in your hair as he kissed you, his other firm on your bare ass as he kneaded the soft flesh with a hunger. through his moans and downright whines, he almost missed it:
"i love you too, peter. so fucking much."
something inside of him snapped, and this time he didn't even ask you to jump, wrapping his hands around your waist and lifting you to the counter like you weighed nothing. you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him close, the make-out nothing short of a frenzy.
the entire time, peter was in your ear, moaning things into your mouth you only ever dreamed you'd hear:
"this. this isn't how this was supposed to happen."
"you deserve better than this, fuck. deserve better than an empty fucking chem lab, christ's sake."
he was quick to get his hands back on you, traces of mischief left behind as he massaged your thighs and stared at your lace thong with a look you'd never seen from him before. peter had been so caught up in it all, he'd almost forgotten the effects of the reaction. his actions were genuine and intentional. but as he pulled back to get a proper look at you, the pain in his chest settled back in, and his senses reheightened to a million
"fuck, i need to touch you. please, can i touch you?" peter whined.
you were breathless in response, "please peter, do whatever the fuck you want to me. just please, do something. anything."
he groaned and ran his hands up your thighs till he reached the delicate lace, teasingly tracing the hemline. "don't fucking say that. i-i don't think i can control myself right now."
"pete, i don't want you to control yourself," a shudder ran down his spine.
"please. fuck me."
peter didn't have the energy left in him to delay this any longer.
he ripped the underwear clean from your body, pulling you to the edge of the counter and dropping to his knees in front of you. he wasted no time running his tongue through your glossy folds, latching his lips over your clit.
peter was so hungry, and the mixture of the fading pain in your chest and the pleasure blooming inside of you was an insane feeling. he added a finger? oh my god. you were fucking incoherent. he added another? you were pretty sure this rivaled the time you tried molly.
you pulled at his hair, begging him (to stop or to go harder, you didn't know). it was all so overwhelming, and every time you looked down to see the source of your pleasure and remembered it was your peter parker? you were close to the edge the quickest you'd ever been.
"pete, i-i..."
"what is it, baby?" he breathed, quickly returning to your dripping cunt.
baby. jesus fucking christ. that almost did you in right then and there.
"i wanna touch you too."
peter groaned deep inside you in response, and the vibration was enough to send you over the edge. you felt your body fly over the moon as you came, peter not letting down for a second as he fucked you with his tongue so you could ride out the high, lapping up every drop you gave him.
he stood up, breathless, glistening, and a little cocky if you knew peter the way you thought you did. "how are you feeling? did that help, d-does it still hurt?"
you were panting as you came down from your high, taking a second to be aware of your body and headspace again. you couldn't help but feel emotional as you noticed the effects starting to creep back in. you shed a tear and nodded as you felt the headache thundering in the distance.
peter pulled you into a hug, and it was almost enough to sober you up again, because something about this one felt different. more weighted.
"im sorry, baby, fuck. i-i'm sorry, what can i do? how can i help?" fuck, this was all his fault.
you sniffled in his ear, but the movement of your hips against his contradicted your melancholy demeanor. "it's better when you're touching me. please, just don't stop."
between your words and you snaking your hand down to palm him softly, peter parker was a wreck, and wrapped around your finger.
he was quick to envelop you in a kiss and drink you in, and you moved to claw his shirt off of him. you pulled back to look at him, and it wasn't like you hadn't seen peter shirtless over the years, but you'd never seen him this close, in this context. it made your chest hurt in a different way.
"fuck, you're so hot," you groaned, almost as though an inside thought had slipped out.
he snickered. "me? are you kidding me right now?"
peter roughly kissed you before tugging your shirt off, absolutely elated at the discovery you'd forgone a bra under your crewneck. he stared at you like a deer in headlights, starstruck as he saw you for the first time.
"jesus christ, you're a fucking dream."
his hands were on your tits before you could even register it, but the feeling only made you crave him more. you messed with his pants, and he took over amidst your frustration. boxers and all, he sprang free in front of you, and Holy Shit Peter Parker. that's fucking obscene.
"this is your last chance to change your mind. because once i start, i dont think i'll be able to stop," he warned.
"please fuck me, peter."
he attacked your chest with his lips, hands firm on your hips as he shifted you again to the edge of the counter. you wrapped your soft fingers around his leaking cock, and he was almost done for before you'd even started.
peter moaned loudly and moved to put his large hand over yours to line himself up. you were still soaked from peter's previous meal, making it easy for him to slide his head through your slit. you were a begging mess in his ear, nails scraping down his back in anticipation.
peter nudged your entrance and pushed in easily (whether from the pollen or his ample prep, no one knows). the two of you moaned in filthy harmony, the feeling a definition beyond indescribable.
his legs were shaking immediately, and despite his inhuman strength, it became apparent that he couldn't do this standing for much longer if you felt this good.
"fuck, sweetheart," peter grabbed you roughly and pulled you towards him, pushing to the hilt and pressing hip to hip with you. he picked you up, spun you around, and laid you on the cool tile
"this isn't what you deserve, fucking you on the ground like this. fuck, baby."
and then peter was relentless.
he pounded into you with such a force, his mouth still focused on your tits and how they bounced for him. both of you could breathe again, the pain lifting and now replaced with a newly discovered pleasure that made you emotional again. you looked completely fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks as peter lifted your thighs higher to get as deep in you as possible.
"fuck, please don't cry," he begged, though he kept drilling into you, knees now meeting your own chest. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
you pulled him down, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs, and your foreheads connected as you breathed him in, exhaling a rough "i love you so much, peter".
he stuttered for a moment, eyes as wide as they were the first time he heard you say it. not for long, though, as he stayed pressed against you and picked up the pace like never before.
"oh my god, i fucking love you."
peter had you seeing stars, and you didn't know how long you'd even been in the lab. five minutes could have passed, maybe three hours. all you knew was that you didn't care, and you were close. peter knew it too.
"babe-baby, you're close. i-i can feel it, you're so fucking tight around my cock." you couldn't help but clench him in response.
"fuck, yeah-y-yes. god, squeezing me so good. god, i knew you were made for me."
it was the sentimentality of everything that sent you over this time. hearing the way he talked about you, you came around his cock, and it felt so fucking magical. but peter didn't slow down, determined to ride out your orgasm. he was quickly losing his composure, though, at the feeling of you fluttering around his cock.
"sweetheart, w-where—"
"inside, please."
peter didn't even have time to question the outcomes to his actions because the second he heard you, his best fucking friend, moaning for him to cum inside of her? oh fucking hell.
he let out such a guttural moan as he came, hot and thick, deep inside of you. you felt so warm and full, so much so that it triggered a third orgasm, sobbing peter's name as he just kept going. mixed arousal spilled down your thighs as he continued to fuck you, and through your fucked out haze, you could feel his cum drip down and pool around your ass.
you were barely conscious at this point, but peter kept going as he muttered "i'm sorry" over and over again.
luckily, he'd released the goddamn mating press and released your legs, allowing you to stretch out. peter was able to cover more of your body with his, lying chest to chest with you as his hips rutted into yours. the new position was so much more intimate as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss again.
"please. please, just one more. one more and i'll stop."
peter said that three more times that evening before he was done, and he felt like himself again.
he looked down at you in awe, though concern slipped through his fucked out eyes. "you okay, bug?"
"i can't believe you really just gassed us with an aphrodisiac."
peter laughed, a blush creeping on his cheeks at the memory of his fatal mistake. "yeah, that was, uh... that was my bad."
Would you be willing to do a frat boy Tom writing, where he is a super cocky king of the campus. And after hooking up with some girl, he's walking around the frat party in the Juicy pants and the crop top she had been wearing. Reader thinks Tom is a douche, so she tries to make fun of Tom for the outfit. But it doesn't work at all, because Tom is way too confident and sure of himself. And then Tom decides reader should learn a lesson, so he seduces her, takes her upstairs and makes reader suck him off, and in between chokes and gags, Tom makes reader tell him how good he looks.
“What does Keynesian economics mean?” Tom Holland asked, staring up at you expectantly. His fingertips drummed against the coffee-stained porcelain of his mug, dribbling with condensation from its whispery steam. Unable to parse a response, his words had only rendered you speechless. Nervously, you wrapped your sweater around yourself further, sinking into your chair as you began to jot down some nonsense notes.
After nearly two hours of awful bantering that you suspected was his horrifically boyish way of flirting, you had gotten nowhere. Tom sat across from you, elbows resting on the table, head in his palms, watching you serenely.
“Are you alright?” he had asked.
“We have not delegated roles, yet, Tom.”
“I told you. I’ll do the project. I know this stuff. I’ll do it the night before. I can bust it out in probably two hours.”
You laughed, angrily, sitting up, and grabbing your bag.
“Alright. Alright! I am leaving,” you told him.
He had the gall to seem sad.
“So soon?” he asked.
“I am going to request another partner, respectfully. Goodbye,” you said, whirling around, and exiting through the door.
The next time you saw him, it was in the library, and he was wearing these big headphones. It had been two weeks, and you found it peculiar how it seemed as though his jaw had sharpened as he looked down, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, pencil tapping rhythmically on the desk.
You looked down at your book when he noticed you staring. You did not think he caught you, though. Daring another glance, you looked up, and Tom waved, biting back a laugh. He beckoned you over to the empty seat beside him, wordlessly, taking his headphones off. You ignored how you noticed the warm overhead fluorescent lights glinting off his chestnut brown hair. Pretending that you were not perturbed by Tom’s presence, you walked over, set your bag down, took out your laptop, and sat down.
“You like that band?” Tom whispered, running a hand through his hair, watching you as you set up your study supplies.
“What band?” you asked.
“The band on your shirt.”
“I like The Beatles, sure. It was on sale.”
“They’re really small. I’m surprised you’ve heard of them.”
“Why did you call me over here? Our assignment is due in two weeks. You have fourteen days.”
“Sh. Don’t flirt with me so loudly, Y/N. The librarians will get you.”
“Oh, be quiet. Why are you so keen on playing the jester?”
“Listen. Economics is easy for me. And I don’t do well in group projects. Honestly,” he admitted.
You bit your lip, pensive. Then let go of it when Tom’s eyes flickered towards your bottom lip.
“Sure,” you conceded. “Should we meet on Thursday night before it’s due? Just so I can ensure your work will not get me expelled?”
“What is your phone number? We need to communicate for the project, right?”
You tossed his phone back into his palm after entering your line. A silence, quieter than the library, fell over you. You cleared your throat, grabbed your things, excused yourself, and left.
*
Then, when you saw him twelve days later, it was Thursday, and the burgers at the nearby pub were on sale. As you sat down into a lone chair by the bar, you scanned the room. Red, elaborate carpeted walls and smooth, amber countertops. You were so lost in thought you nearly did not feel a pair of hot palms squeezing your shoulders. With a frightened and subsequent sigh in relief when you whipped around to see Tom’s expression of genuine regret, you laughed and gestured for him to sit down.
“It’s crowded, innit?” Tom asked, taking his cap off, and exposing unruly curls. Inexplicably, you imagined running your hands through them. You nodded and watched him as he took off his jacket, steadying himself on the unsteady hightop chair. He attempted to call the bartender over, wobbling in his chair. After the bartender had left, and Tom had gazed at you with flushed cheeks, you sipped your drink.
“A lot more crowded than I thought,” you told him. Quickly, the bartender arrived with a rum and coke. Tom inhaled it through his straw.
“Thirsty?” you asked.
“I walked here from my place. I forgot water.”
“You should have some real water, then.”
“Liquid is liquid.”
“I suppose.”
“Did you bring your laptop?”
“Yeah. There’s not much room up here.”
“Yeah. There’s nowhere else, either?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
After you had eaten and Tom had forced you to let him pay for your meal, he began his walk home, and you felt a scary swell of appreciation for him on your tube ride home. The project was really good.
*
And unfortunately and fortunately for you, the presentation went impeccably well. Tom did not stutter, nor did you. You tried not to think too much about how you had to use your acting chops to explain the concepts Tom had written about, so concisely and comprehensively.
And when you saw him later that Friday night at some random afters at two a.m., dressed in someone’s pink lacy Juicy Couture crop-top and low-rise Juicy sweatpants; beside him, a pretty girl in the same outfit Tom wore today: baggy jeans, belt, dark green hoodie, beaten-up bomber jacket. Together, arms wrapped around each others’ waists, they staggered through the house. Music pounded your skull from where you sat on the couch in the corner, smushed beside a couple who was doing much more than snog. Tom caught your eye. Yet, in the bleary moment in between your thought and his movement, Tom was dragging her over towards you, and from under the low lights, his exposed torso moved with such fluid strength you nearly coughed your drink back up.
*
“Project went well, huh?” Tom slurred, stumbling beside you. He fell onto the couple on the couch, dragging the girl with him as she squealed, and making the couple angrily get up and move. As Tom looked at you expectantly, awaiting your answer, the girl began to grind against him, and kiss his neck sloppily. Tom grabbed her hips and helped her move as he waited for you to talk.
“You’re being weird,” you told Tom, accidentally spilling your drink onto him, and subsequently, the girl, a little bit. She screeched when a droplet hit her dress, flailing from the couch, and sprinting into the nearest bathroom for some water to clean it, you supposed.
“I’m too fucked up for this,” he said, tiredly, rubbing his temples. The sticky beer in your cup made his temples look like they were glazed with sweat. You watched it dribble down his chest where it pooled above his v-line.
“Where is that top from?” you asked him, sitting down beside him after dodging the pool of beer.
“It’s hers,” he said woefully, sitting in the puddle.
“How much was it?”
“No idea.”
“Looks expensive. We need to save it for her. Up. Fuck. Get up, Tom.”
“Fuck off. I’m not that drunk, let me move.”
It only took a miraculous ten minutes to get Tom’s shirt into the powder room sink. The sink was filled with cold water and you did not have to do all this for a random beer-stained Juicy Couture shirt you thought of potentially selling. Tom sat on the toilet, head in his hands, dozing off. You flicked some cold water at him and his eyes flicked open, like you had only blown air on his face, unphased. He smiled.
“What?” he asked you.
“Get up,” you said. Tom got up. The bathroom became smaller than you thought it was. The water had stopped running, the shirt was floating all sadly in the sink, and Tom was shirtless and pantless. He sucked in a slow breath as he leaned in and it was absurd. His lips smelled like Fireball and whisky when you drunkenly traced them with your own, curious, you shivered when they brushed against him. Tom smirked against your lips. You did not notice that his fingers thumbed your hipbones until he did. You were so drunk. You were never going to see him again. The project was over. You dodged him lazily as he tried to kiss you.
His tongue tentatively prodded your lips. Weird. When you took his lips into your mouth, he laughed a little.
You could not rationalize yourself into explaining why you enjoyed feeling his teeth and sighing into his mouth as he hoisted you up onto his bathroom counter, mouthing your tits through your sheer white t-shirt.
“Tom,” you yelped, surprised as you accidentally arched into him. Behind a raspy, lazy laugh, he thumbed your tit as he kissed your neck. Before you could get too comfortable, you pushed him off of you, and swiftly pivoted in front of him, letting your hand rest against his warm dick as you sank to your knees. He only wore his plaid boxers, and they were wrinkled. The imprint of his cock sat parallel to your line of sight and with a satisfied hum, you licked it.
“I knew you would look so fucking good like this,” Tom said quietly, holding your hair back as you pressed kisses to his thighs. You hummed in disbelief, in awe of what you were doing to him, and to yourself.
“In the library,” he continued, voice removed as he watched you gracefully tug his boxers down, “I wanted you. Over the desk. So bad. Fuck. Use those gorgeous lips. Tell me how good I look like this. I wanna see you say it. With your mouth on my cock.”
“You’re so sexy when you talk about Keynesian economics,” you said.
Tom laughed, he pulled away and pulled you up, holding you against him as you involuntarily wrapped your thighs around him, accidentally pressing yourself into him. You sucked in a breath and whimpered when he began to kiss your neck, moving your skirt and panties to the side.
“Tom,” you said shakily, adrenaline rushing, unsure. A little overwhelmed at the size of him sliding against your core and at what you were doing with him, you shivered when his tip entered your folds, making both of you suck in a breath. Tom held you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the nape of your neck.
Music still rattled outside, yet you could care less—this bathroom lighting did an eerie job at mimicking that of the library’s. He took his time warming you up, tentatively sliding in and out, up and down, sitting halfway in your entrance, heavy and aching; Tom began to kiss you, and you could not believe how passionately he did it.
Tom smiled and began to fuck you so relentlessly and softly at the same time that you accidentally began to whimper, resting your head on his bare shoulder as he held you close, moving with you. He said your name quietly, as if the whole house could listen as he watched you come undone. Your mouth was dry and your lips were parched and you reached out, pulling him closer to you, kissing him as he continued to hit a spot inside of you that made you speechless. It was so hot and roiling and bubbled pleasantly inside of you with a heat that made you tremble in his arms.
You could not tease Tom about his blabbering, because you were not even coherent enough to speak. Then, it hit you—with a gasp, you recoiled, and Tom held you tightly to him. He kissed every inch of your face lustfully as he pulled out and finished with you. His cum dripped between your thighs and as he slowly pushed it back against you, he watched your lips part, your eyes rolling backwards, sleepy.
“Can I see you outside of class?” he asked, breathless.
“Can you teach me economics?” you asked with an incredulous laugh, kissing him. You could not believe what you had just done.
peter’s the sweetest, most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for. he treats you like a princess and is super mindful of your boundaries, if you know what i mean.
but oh, poor peter, he can’t always hold back that much. when he’s alone, he can’t stop thinking about you, hands down his pants. he fantasizes about your tightness wrapped around his length, about how that shirt you wore the last time you saw him hugged your breasts so well and showed off your nipples. he thinks about slowly pulling that shirt up, revealing your skin, bringing his lips to you, and feeling you get goosebumps before he even touches you.
he thinks about your moan, your scent, the moment he’ll finally be inside you.
I sweaaar, he’s a good guy. cause even if he fantasizes, he’s still the patient, attentive, and careful man you deserve.
at least until you give him the green light to go all in.
thinking about peter parker’s gf catching him pleasuring himself
helping - peter parker’
peter couldn't stop thinking about you that quiet night in his apartment. his hand was already sliding down, impatient, before he even realized what he was doing. three days. three days since he'd last seen you, and his mind had been pure hell ever since.
he closed his eyes, and there you were. he remembered you from the last time you two were together, riding him, hair loose over your shoulders, wearing that expression only you had: sweet and cruel.
peter's hand wrapped around his dick through the fabric of his boxers, already half-hard, and a low whimper slipped past his lips. he was already way too sensitive. he pushed his boxers down in one go, freeing his erection, and finally curled his fingers around himself.
god. the first squeeze was almost a relief. he dragged his hand from base to tip, eyes still squeezed shut while you took over every single thought.
last time, you were wearing those black jeans. he remembered the sound of the zipper coming down when you shoved him against the living room wall. your low laugh when he tried to say something and his voice came out shaky. the way your hands were already working his belt open. he remembered the heat rushing up his neck, the embarrassment of being taken apart so easily by you. fuck, it was too much.
moans kept slipping out as he sped up, his thumb grazing the sensitive tip on every upstroke. peter tightened his grip, legs falling open without thinking while his dick slid slick with the precome already starting to drip. "yeah…" he mumbled, head sinking into the pillow, eyes rolling back under his lids. he was so close, painfully close. stomach muscles clenching, toes curling into the sheets. "yeah, fuck" he groaned, saying your name loud.
until he heard the door open.
his eyes snapped open, but it was too late. you were standing in the bedroom doorway, keys still in your hand, bag hanging off your shoulder.
peter froze. his hand was still wrapped around his throbbing dick, completely naked, mouth open, eyes wide. "oh my god how did you— what are— sorry, I—" he stammered, uselessly trying to yank the sheet over himself. "I wasn't… I was just… I just—" you laughed. "forget I have a key? I just missed you and wanted to see you." you set the keys down on the table. "looks like I showed up right on time" "I didn't knew you were gonna—" peter tried, still fighting to catch his breath. "if I’d known, I would've—" "would've what? stopped?" you sat down on the edge of the bed. "you were almost there, from what i saw." you were right, and he couldn't lie to you. not even when he wanted to.
you moved closer, your hand landing on his thigh. "you don't have to stop cause I’m here" peter's breath hitched when your hand traveled up to his dick. "actually… I’d rather you didn't" you squeezed firmly, and peter arched off the bed with a moan. "I think you deserve some help. since you were so busy thinking about me" "I… I wasn't—" peter tried, but his voice died when your thumb pressed along his length. "no? then you won't mind if I stop" his fingers grabbed your wrist before he could even think, making you look up. "no. please" you smiled at his plea.
your hand went back to work, and this time there was no hesitation. you knew every inch of him, exactly where to squeeze, where to speed up, where to pause just to be cruel and watch him squirm. your fingers wrapped around the base while your other hand came up to play with the tip, spreading the precome already leaking generously. "look at me, baby" peter obeyed. his eyes met yours while your hand moved up and down. "fuck, only you do this to me" he groaned.
suddenly you leaned down. your mouth wrapped around the head of his dick in one hot, wet move. "ah, shit" his hands flew to your hair, gripping. you sucked him slowly, mouth sinking down a few inches before pulling back, tongue pressing against the underside in a way he felt all the way to his toes. meanwhile, your other hand kept working, twisting at the base, squeezing in perfect time with your mouth.
the contrast between the heat of your mouth and the firm pressure of your fingers was unbearable. "so… so good…" his eyes rolled back as you took him deeper, mouth sliding down as far as you could reach before pulling back. when you looked up at him, mouth still wrapped around him, eyes sparkling with mischief. peter thought he was gonna come right then.
you sped up. mouth and hand working in perfect sync, the tip hitting the back of your throat on every downstroke. "I’m gonna… baby, I’m gonna—“ peter warned, but it wasn't necessary. his breathing, his shaking legs, his clenching stomach, all the signs were already there.
he came, your name falling out of his mouth in a moan while his dick pulsed, and you kept your mouth locked around him, lips sealed, throat working to swallow every drop while he writhed beneath you.
when he finally opened his eyes, gasping, you were still there. your mouth finally pulled off slow, eyes locked on his. you swallowed one last time, then wiped your thumb across the corner of your lips. you stood up and pulled him into a kiss that still tasted like him. "hope I catch you more often"
you and spiderman simply couldn’t get enough of each other due to the stupid hormones, the two of you could barely go on a mission without fucking each other a second later. hence why the two of you were in an abandoned alleyway, whilst he was balls deep in you. you were shoved against the cold brick wall of the alleyway, with your ass our whilst he took your tight cunt from behind. the two of you were so impatient you guys didn’t even bother taking off your suit properly, where he had ripped the part near your pussy, where his fat cock was now buried in.
“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his grip against your hips tight enough to leave marks though you didn’t care, your judgement was too clouded. it always was when you were near him. you whined, god you couldn’t even think properly with his cock shoved in your desperate hole. his grip tightened, “your pussy is always so accomodating,” he whispered as he kissed your neck, “always so welcoming,” he mumbled as his hand lowered down to rub your clit roughly. the area where your suit had been ripped was damp, soaked in your arousal.
“so pretty,” he grunted, as his other hand that was on your waist went to your neck, squeezing the side slightly. you whined, your nails scratching against the brick wall. “can’t focus on the mission when i can be buried in your pretty little pussy,” he panted, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, you didn’t know how much longer you could hold our, your knees already buckling.
you felt another rip on your suit, the rip that was near your pussy was, now extended to around the curve of your ass, him forcing you to bend even more. “bet i need to tend to all of your pretty little holes, huh?” he grinned, his thumb tracing upwards towards your ass before entering his thumb in the tight hole. “this one is welcoming too,” he groaned, “your the perfect little toy for me.”
god you were being fucked dumb, your mind was going blank and all you could do was form pathetic babbles and whines, that were totally not appropriate during a mission. “fuck baby, your making a mess,” you looked down to see the inner thigh part of your suit damp, you were leaking down your legs. “i can’t get enough,” he groaned, his breaths becoming more ragged.
“funny how you were making smart remarks during the meeting, but you can’t seem to get any word out now.” it was true, you were making sarcastic comments an hour ago at headquarters and now you were a babbling mess. “that’s what good dick gets you huh?” he teased, his hand squeezing your neck even tighter. despite your lack of words, your wetness and slick noises that came from your tight cunt accomodating his length spoke enough. “so nice to have a pretty pussy welcoming me whenever i want,” he cooed, “so i gotta reward you, hm?” he kissed your neck, “gonna give you the best fucking orgasm.”
✧˚₊‧ peter cumming in his pants when you sit on his face!
it’s been far too long since peter has fucked.
yes, you fucked him that one when you had to figure out who in the hell you fucked because he disappeared before you woke up; you’d eventually remember when you saw parker’s tank-top on the floor.
you remember his pathetic whimpers as he piston into you, the way he fucked sloppy and the way he refused to even pull out once, like it was physically impossible for him to pull out— and in some ways? it was… and you also remember, oh yeah! you have his phone number now, so of course, when the night is late, when nobody is around and you’re far too horny for your own good? guess he’d do the trick.
and peter, for all of his flaws, has a really good green flag if you ask the right person; he loves when women sit on his face.
he lovesssss getting a face full of pussy, his tongue licking up and down their folds and tasting all of their juices all over his face. he loves feeling trapped under thighs and under someone in full control… and he loved it especially tonight, when he hasn’t gotten the feeling in forever, and you put all your weight on him.
“p-peter! peter!” your moans echo off the wall just like they did two weeks ago as this time, it wasn’t his cock drilling in and out of you, it was his tongue lapping you up and down.
his rough hands grab your waist and keeps you on him, moaning against your cunt as your fingers stroke his hair. “mhm… so good b-baby.” his moans are broken, blushing as he can’t stop his tongue. “s’so’so good.” he mutters, feeling his cock twitch as his mouth tastes more of of your pussy. “could eat you all fuckin’ night, sweet girl.”
you rock on his face, both of your hands in his hair as he continues to lick and suck on your wet pussy. his legs shake a little, eyes rolling back at the taste of you entering his mouth— you taste so good.
“peter! p’peter! ohhhhh fu-fuckkkk!” you moan out, fingers yanking at his brown hair as you look down at him, shuddering at seeing him.
he didn’t hold himself back— he couldn’t, that’s the thing with his powers; yes, he’s spider-man and one of the downsides? he can’t hold himself back when pleasure overloads his senses… and in no time at all… he feels his balls clench and his cock vibrates in his pants.
and suddenly, he feels ropes of heavy semen leave his cock and stain his pants, unloading in his boxers as he cums— just by you sitting on his face.
you feel him tremble under you and you furrow your brows, looking at him with a mouth agape and turn your head, seeing his grey sweatpants become stained in the crotch area. you turn your head back at him and seeing the blush of embarrassment on his face.
“peter!”
“mhm— what?”
you shake your head as you groan at the vibrations against your cunt. “you— you just cummed? what- what the fuck?”
he shakes his head in between his thighs, running his hands up and down your back. “…’m sorry… you just t-taste so good… fuck…”
oh this absolutely pathetic man.
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: god, i luv this pathetic ass man. also??? the amount of support on my first peter oneshot? didn’t expect that but if people want more penis parker, they gonna get penis parker!
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
peter parker who pushes your hands back against his bed, forcing your fingers to curl against his headboard. "press them flat for me, baby," his voice is a wet garble in your ear, heaving breaths, his tongue darting up to drink the perspiration dewing your hairline. his webs shoot out, white and sticky against the back of your hands. a soft thwip that flies by your ear and plasters your hands to the wood in front of your face. you tug, testing their strength, and your breath falters at the durability.
not so tough now, are you? not after you had begged him soo prettily, like a beautiful, melodious course in peter's ear, "please, pete, want you to use them on me. tie me up."
and how could peter say no? when you bat your eyes like that at him, and when your lips form into that gorgeous pout that has him wanting to suck them into his own mouth.
no. no, nooo, no, peter would never deny you.
but now peter's smug. he has you. you're his. your shoulders flex against his chest from the force of your tugging. and all he can do is press his smile against your jaw, nosing into your cheek from where your head is laying against the pillows.
"ah, ah, no tugging, my love, you wanted this remember?" he coos softly, his hands sliding down your back and settling on the curve of your waist. peter pushes his chest back up, his weight shifting on your thighs. he rubs his tip through your slicked folds, tracing a line from your hole to your clit. he grinds himself there, a teasing pressure that leaves both of you breathless before sliding himself in entirely.
the intrusion has you tensing and clenching down on him immediately. it's all too much, all too soon, but yet not enough. peter throws his head back, his fingers digging into the arch of your back. "fuuuck, yeah—"
he's breathless, pushing his weight onto you and sliding his cock that much deeper. your head spins from how full you are, how he's everywhere. his hips slowly grind against your backside, forcing you to feel him inside you.
your arms tug, shoulders jolting as you squirm from the stimulation.
peter's webs stay strong.
fuck, you hadn't thought of what it would be like to not able to touch him how you wanted.
"w-wait, pete, fuck, please—" your voice is a muffled whimper against his pillows. you bite down on the fabric, pushing your hips back to meet him fully.
"ohhh, there she is, yeah, baby, look at that," peter groans in amazement. his eyes are glued to where he's disappeared inside your fluttering hole, hooking his thumbs into your cheeks and spreading them apart. "so fucking perfect for me,"
his hips stilled, simply watching. "gonna move for me? show me how much you do you want it? show me how good you are for me, baby, move those hips."
your back tenses, muscles flexing as you roll your hips back. up and down. trying to find a satisfying rhythm, trying to get him deeper, get it harder, feel him hit that spot that would have you trembling in seconds.
it was hard without your hands to support you, but it only fuelled your desperation. it was everything. you were everything to peter. your slick, wet heat that enveloped him. god, fuck, he could live inside you forever.
the sight of you on your stomach, restricted by his webs, desperately pushing back against him, desperate for his cock — he's fucking ruined.
you whimper softly, the pillow muffling the sound almost completely. but peter hears it, of course he does, he always hears you. his teeth dig into his bottom lip, stifling his own moan.
"c-can't, wait, peter, i can't," you babble softly through another whine. it was too much, but not enough. you were so fucking full, and peter kept you on the edge.
peter takes over all at once, through hard and deep thrusts that punch the air out of your lungs. one of his hands settles on top of your head, gripping your hair and pulling your head back. he leans forward again, his body enveloping yours and covering your mouth with his. his lips devour yours with a ravenous desperation, silencing your moans with his tongue sliding into your mouth.
the smirk that spreads across peter's face presses into your teeth. all he can hear are the whines that escape through your ragged breaths and the wet slap of your fluttering pussy.
"more, more, more, peter, please—" you beg into his mouth, your lips sinking into his bottom lip. peter groans at the sensation, his eyes shutting and his tongue laps at the corner of your mouth to catch the drool leaking from your lip.
"so beautiful, so perfect, come for me, baby," he whispers, sliding his finger around your hip and meeting your clit. the action pushes your hips further back into him and your body jolts, overwhelmed from his hips ramming into yours. the force of your climax takes over your body suddenly. your vision whites, your nails dig into the headboard, and your body tenses as your shoulders yank painfully against the webs.
and god, peter has never been more in love. your soft, high pitched whines as you bite down onto his pillow; your fluttering walls around his cock as he slides in alllll the way; how fucking perfect you always are for him. always.
he could never let you go, could never be without you. not when you love him how you do, not when you beg him to tie you up with his webs. he would do anything you fucking asked him to. he really would.
✧˚₊‧ down bad! peter parker who fucks like he’s mindless !
it’s not like he’s touch starved for any sort of real connection; everyone who he loves doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t have anyone to go home to besides that red and blue stupid spider-man suit that mocks him from the hanger. he watches the news as people cheer for him but no one wants him.
truly wants him. peter parker, not spider-man.
peter parker is a man who is starved of touch. he can live with no connection— it was just him and his aunt for many years… but the feeling of another person’s hands on him that wasn’t some goon in manhattan trying to put him to early retirement… it was foreign to him.
it’s been four years since mj, and he hasn’t felt anything on his body… except now, his breaking point.
youre not quite sure how you ended up in his vicinity anyway, but you did. you were simply in professor banners class when he came running in at the last minute, completely sloppy looking and out of his mind to talk to the professor. you stayed back to watch him ramble to him, seeing how disgruntled he looked, the bruises on his jaw and his forearm peaking out under the empire state hoodie.
when he left, you left, and you asked for his number.
that’s how you ended up here; in his messy bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you like a piston. he’s rough with his thrusts but gentle with his hands, like his fingers are trying to mark every single inch of your body, his lips haven’t left your neck since he’s thrusted.
“o-oh god baby.” he whispers, voice cracking under the pressure of your pussy clenching down on him. your nails rake down his biceps,
you moan around him, listening to his chorus of whimpers and pleads as the wet sound of his cock forcing its way into your puffy folds fills his mundane apartment bedroom. “f-fuck peter! keep going! oh fuck!”
the apartment walls in this place may not be the thickest, but peter’s cock is, so you don’t care that your moans could probably be heard from top floor to basement.
he moans when your fingers create more markings into his body, his senses going haywire with each stroke of his dick. “feels good baby? pussy needing me s’so much, don’t you?” he whispers, sucking on his right thumb before bringing it down to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. “never letting you go, swear to god, fucking christ…”
each one of his thrusts picks up with the speed and velocity only a man like peter parker could display. you couldn't describe it but you felt so full but so good at the time time. your eyes rolled back as he kisses your cheek, feeling his balls slap against your clit.
he kept thrusting like he had something to lose; his hands touched you like he was trying to keep a reminder to himself what a female body felt like, what another human's body felt like under his own callous palms.
he's never felt like this in four years, and now, he's a selfish man and who could blame him?
peter was a man suffering in silence, currently thrusting into you like he was personally trying to break your cervix— and you didn't mind it, feeling like heaven itself as his forearms cage your head, kissing your face even as the tears flow from overstimulation, his mouth catching each one.
he brings you closer and closer, groaning deep into your ear as you tighten around him. the bed was louder than you at some points but you didn't even try to be quiet.
if anyone truly knew what peter parker was suffering with for four years... they'd understand why he fucks like this. why he fucks like it's his last day on earth. why his cock ruins you like it's never done before... and you didn't quite understand the full extent of it...
you just understood peter parker making you cum, and feeling ropes of his hot and heavy cum filling your pussy.
and in the same night? he tucks you in and sneaks out the fire escape, because peter parker only gets temporary joy when the city needs spiderman all the time.
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: god, brand new day is gonna eat so hard. ive never written for peter, but he was so fucking fine in that trailer, so why not write for him. sadie, tom, and zendaya in the same movie + promotion is gonna be so funnnnn, I can’t fucking wait. I do not care; i will somehow get a sadie hot ones episode as well as a sadie vs tom hot ones episode because I said so.
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
peter parker who pushes your hands back against his bed, forcing your fingers to curl against his headboard. "press them flat for me, baby," his voice is a wet garble in your ear, heaving breaths, his tongue darting up to drink the perspiration dewing your hairline. his webs shoot out, white and sticky against the back of your hands. a soft thwip that flies by your ear and plasters your hands to the wood in front of your face. you tug, testing their strength, and your breath falters at the durability.
not so tough now, are you? not after you had begged him soo prettily, like a beautiful, melodious course in peter's ear, "please, pete, want you to use them on me. tie me up."
and how could peter say no? when you bat your eyes like that at him, and when your lips form into that gorgeous pout that has him wanting to suck them into his own mouth.
no. no, nooo, no, peter would never deny you.
but now peter's smug. he has you. you're his. your shoulders flex against his chest from the force of your tugging. and all he can do is press his smile against your jaw, nosing into your cheek from where your head is laying against the pillows.
"ah, ah, no tugging, my love, you wanted this remember?" he coos softly, his hands sliding down your back and settling on the curve of your waist. peter pushes his chest back up, his weight shifting on your thighs. he rubs his tip through your slicked folds, tracing a line from your hole to your clit. he grinds himself there, a teasing pressure that leaves both of you breathless before sliding himself in entirely.
the intrusion has you tensing and clenching down on him immediately. it's all too much, all too soon, but yet not enough. peter throws his head back, his fingers digging into the arch of your back. "fuuuck, yeah—"
he's breathless, pushing his weight onto you and sliding his cock that much deeper. your head spins from how full you are, how he's everywhere. his hips slowly grind against your backside, forcing you to feel him inside you.
your arms tug, shoulders jolting as you squirm from the stimulation.
peter's webs stay strong.
fuck, you hadn't thought of what it would be like to not able to touch him how you wanted.
"w-wait, pete, fuck, please—" your voice is a muffled whimper against his pillows. you bite down on the fabric, pushing your hips back to meet him fully.
"ohhh, there she is, yeah, baby, look at that," peter groans in amazement. his eyes are glued to where he's disappeared inside your fluttering hole, hooking his thumbs into your cheeks and spreading them apart. "so fucking perfect for me,"
his hips stilled, simply watching. "gonna move for me? show me how much you do you want it? show me how good you are for me, baby, move those hips."
your back tenses, muscles flexing as you roll your hips back. up and down. trying to find a satisfying rhythm, trying to get him deeper, get it harder, feel him hit that spot that would have you trembling in seconds.
it was hard without your hands to support you, but it only fuelled your desperation. it was everything. you were everything to peter. your slick, wet heat that enveloped him. god, fuck, he could live inside you forever.
the sight of you on your stomach, restricted by his webs, desperately pushing back against him, desperate for his cock — he's fucking ruined.
you whimper softly, the pillow muffling the sound almost completely. but peter hears it, of course he does, he always hears you. his teeth dig into his bottom lip, stifling his own moan.
"c-can't, wait, peter, i can't," you babble softly through another whine. it was too much, but not enough. you were so fucking full, and peter kept you on the edge.
peter takes over all at once, through hard and deep thrusts that punch the air out of your lungs. one of his hands settles on top of your head, gripping your hair and pulling your head back. he leans forward again, his body enveloping yours and covering your mouth with his. his lips devour yours with a ravenous desperation, silencing your moans with his tongue sliding into your mouth.
the smirk that spreads across peter's face presses into your teeth. all he can hear are the whines that escape through your ragged breaths and the wet slap of your fluttering pussy.
"more, more, more, peter, please—" you beg into his mouth, your lips sinking into his bottom lip. peter groans at the sensation, his eyes shutting and his tongue laps at the corner of your mouth to catch the drool leaking from your lip.
"so beautiful, so perfect, come for me, baby," he whispers, sliding his finger around your hip and meeting your clit. the action pushes your hips further back into him and your body jolts, overwhelmed from his hips ramming into yours. the force of your climax takes over your body suddenly. your vision whites, your nails dig into the headboard, and your body tenses as your shoulders yank painfully against the webs.
and god, peter has never been more in love. your soft, high pitched whines as you bite down onto his pillow; your fluttering walls around his cock as he slides in alllll the way; how fucking perfect you always are for him. always.
he could never let you go, could never be without you. not when you love him how you do, not when you beg him to tie you up with his webs. he would do anything you fucking asked him to. he really would.
summary: peter parker, who craves human connection so much that he hears his neighbor jerking off through his shitty, paper-thin apartment bedroom wall and gets FAR too carried away with it
wc: 1.1k
cw: gn reader (no pronouns or body descriptors used), NSFW (mdni), male (peter)!masturbation, kinda dubcon bc reader doesn't know he's listening to them masturbating, pervy and deperate!peter core, being caught, FUCK AI
peter came crashing through his open window with anything other than grace after a shitty night of patrolling, groaning as he read through his cracked phone screen that it was nearing one in the morning. it had been a long evening defined by creepy men in alleyways, and frank giving him shit over something he was definitely not in the mood to deal with tonight.
he began to strip his suit, frustration buzzing off his skin as he tried to peel the hot spandex from his sweaty body, damp curls sticking to his forehead and dripping into his eyes. every one of his senses was overwhelmed; they had been for hours. the streetlights growing brighter as the night wore him out, the smell of sewer still trapped in his nose from his earlier fight, his ears ringing and latching on to every single sound around him -- even still. his clock ticking. the traffic outside. the hum of his shitty fucking radiator, and peter tried his best to steady his breath, to not have a fucking breakdown as his ears tuned in to every single fucking sound in the goddamn apartment complex, and-
oh
oh.
so that's what a siren song sounds like.
peter heard your soft moans through his paper-thin walls -- walls he hated for their shitty quality until this moment.
god bless this shitty ass drywall.
and suddenly, you were the only thing peter could hear. hours of constant noise instantly drown out by the most beautiful noise he'd ever heard: you. he stopped to think about it for a moment; peter knew better. he shouldn't be listening to this. he'd only met you a handful of times, and this was an insane invasion of your privacy, and-
peter bit back a groan as he palmed himself through his briefs, suit pooled and forgotten at his ankles. he wished he were more embarrassed by how quickly he got hard. he wished he hadn't slowly climbed onto his bed to get more comfortable, to hear you more clearly.
at the end of the day, peter parker was still human.
he shuffled his way out of his briefs, choking on a moan as his heavy cock sprang out and slapped his stomach. he spit as quietly as he could into his palm, gripping himself loosely. it wasn't like peter wasn't used to touching himself. but he was so sensitive in your proximity, his body so desperately craving someone else. even if they were a wall away. even if they didn't know. maybe especially then.
peter listened to your muffled moans and the soft sound of you touching yourself through the wall, his imagination running wild with the possibilities. he imagined your hands all over your body, envisioned all the ways you could be making yourself feel so good right now.
he tried to be quiet, but he began to lose himself a bit as he fantasized about you with desperate, cut-off whines leaving his lips. in his head, your moans only grew louder for him. he closed his eyes and he could hear it: the way you sped up, and the soft whimpers from your throat that turned to unraveled moans deep from your chest.
he understood how the sailors lost their minds to such songs.
he didn't mean to, but peter had picked up on your heartbeat, noting the rapid rate and flutters indicating you were close. peter wasn't far behind you already, the whispers of your pleasure through the drywall enough to get him to the edge, his tip weeping as he stroked faster. he wanted to come with you, so fucking badly. even if he couldn't see it, even if he was such a fucking freak and you had no idea. he really, really didn't care right now. he needed it.
he heard a sharp cry from the room next to him as his stomach tightened and his balls drew up, all of his senses suddenly flooded with the overwhelming scent of you.
"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-" peter groaned, spilling harshly from his twitching, angry cock, his cum painting his bare and sweaty chest. he heaved louder than he meant to as he fought to catch his breath from the near-blinding orgasm, slapping a hand over his mouth the second he remembered himself. he prayed to thor the walls on your side were somehow more muffled than his.
he figured it was loki, instead, who answered the prayer when peter heard a soft knock on his front door, and all semblance of dignity he had left drained from his body.
he practically fell from his bed, shouting a cracked "just a minute!" as peter crudely wiped himself with a towel from the floor as quickly as possible. he scrambled to find something to cover up with, settling on a pair of yelena's juicy couture sweats and a black tank he hoped landed low enough on his stomach to cover the leftover sin that was drying on his abs.
there was another round of knocking, slightly louder this time, and peter swore loudly as he tripped over his backpack on his way to the door. he peaked out the peephole and plead with the god of mischief as he saw you standing outside his door, random pajamas tossed on in a similar state to his.
peter opened the door slowly, hoping his face wasn't as red as he knew it was. he cleared his throat, "h-hey! hi, what's up? h-how's the night going? so far, i mean. not that anything has happened. like, at this hour of the night, i mean."
you stared at him for a moment, allowing him to take in your appearance, realizing he must look about the same. his guilt is quickly buried and resurrected in kind as he found his cock twitching at the way your hair was tussled, cheeks flushed, and sleep shorts low on your waist. he suppressed a smile as the shame crept back in at the way you met his eyes with knowledge he hoped you didn't have. knew you did have.
you left him conflicted, however, as your lips cocked into a slight smirk and you crossed your arms before whispering a soft, "you could've just knocked, you know."
peter's eyes widened, mouth agape as he searched for a response. you didn't give him a chance as you smirked and walked back to your apartment, flashing a wink at him before disappearing. peter jumped as you banged against the kitchen wall to his right, your voice distant but clear as you spoke to him: "next time, maybe?"
💭 𓈒⠀𓈒ㅤㅤ peter parker fucking you from behind , your face pressed against his forearm and bicep in a deliciously sweaty headlock. you feel his weight and sweaty chest pressed against your back , feeling all hot and lost in the pleasure. your teeth would bite deep marks into his bicep to hold in your moans—feeling shy after he praised how pretty you sounded for him, he’d let out a desperate mix of a moan and whine at the pleasurable pain in your ear.
panting and whining in your ear , telling you how good you feel and begging for more as if he didn’t have you in a position where he controlled everything and could take what he wanted. he could overpower you in every single way but no , you had him falling to his knees with just a look , peter truly was putty in your hands.
his eyes would roll back as he felt you clenching around him, the way your nails dig into his biceps, feeling a mixture of your drool and tears of pleasure soaking his bicep and the pillow, how his name sounded coming from your lips. the sounds of skin slapping, the bed creaking and the beautiful euphonious melody of your shared sounds of pleasure, filled the bedroom of the safe house.
the feeling of you cumming around him brought him right to the edge, while the feeling of you pushing back against him, using him to fuck yourself through your orgasm, made him cum deep inside you with a choked out moan. sniffling and placing wet kisses along your shoulders as he tried to calm down from the intense and passionate love making, both of you sensitive and twitching with each little after shock…whispering shared and desperate ‘I love yous’
Ი𐑼 yeah so it’s short , just a little thought and concept but I will definitely write a longer fic about this <3 I’m not prepared for the person I’m going to become when the movie is out … I’m already freaking out from the trailer 🤓
꒰ . ₊˚⊹♡ JACK IN :: you complaining about him losing weight.꒱
jack has always been stubby.
everything about him is thick. legs, arms, neck, tummy, dick. he was like hard squishy that you just couldn't help sinking your teeth in.
specially during sex. your favorite position was missionary. it meant having his thick arms caging you down, his tummy pressing against yours as your nails digged into his beefy shoulders. that feeling alone was enough to bring you to an euphoric orgasm.
but lately, you been starting to feel less tummy and more hard muscle. you loved his tummy! you would lay your head on it, dig your nails into it while riding him.
maybe it was the lack of eating, or maybe the increase of swat shifts he's been taking. whatever it is, you didnt like it. you loved chubby jack, loved his dad bod.
“jeez, im full.” he groaned as he stood up from the couch, gently pushing your legs off his thighs. “what?” you frowned, grabbing onto his hand. “you didnt finish it, jack.” you pulled him back down, shifting so were sitting on his lap.
“yeah but im-” “let me feed you.”
his eyebrows quirked at the sudden shift in position. he also didnt miss the way your hand rested against his now more flatter tummy. but he knew better than to deny you, specially since you looked so cute wanting to take care of him.
unbeknownst to him, you weren't doing it because you were concerned about him not eating. well kinda, but your main concern was getting his tummy back! so, he sits through 30 minutes of you feeding him, your hand against his cheek. which are more hollow now.
its not that he doesn't look good, he really does. but he doesn't look like your jack. your stubby jack. even his fingers are losing their girth. its not an obvious change, but its kind of impossible not to notice when you've had them inside of you several of times.
“what's up with you today?” he says inbetween chews, rough hands running up and down your back, eventually settling on the swell of your hips.
you look down for a moment, looking almost shy. you didnt want to make him feel self conscious, but his body changing did upset you a bit. “i dunno, i just *feel* you getting skinnier.” you whisper, setting the plate down on the couch.
his eyebrows furrow in confusion, head tilting like a confused puppy. “i mean i love how you look baby, so sexy!” you reaffirm, slightly nervous. “but-but-” you let out a sigh, running your hands through his curls more for your comfort than for his. “you're not...chubby anymore.”
you're so caught up in your own yours you dont realize he's smiling down at you, one of his broad hands going up to your head to pull it down to his chest. you melt immediately, cheek pressing against one if his pecks. he's so hard and broad, but yet again, you miss the slight curve of his tummy pressing against you.
“so you're upset because im getting skinnier?” he chuckles, kissing your forehead softly. “i guess so...it sounds bad when you put it like that.” you mumble, gently curling your fingers at his biceps that are holding you in place.
“i thought you would enjoy it, you know, me getting in shape.” he says softly, honestly. and it break your heart thinking that he's probably been feeling self conscious about his body, damn you for not showing him how much you love his stubby self!
“what?” you gasp, shaking your head. “baby you're already so perfect.” you insist, lifting your head up to look at him. “you're so sexy, jack. you dont need to be in shape, you already were.” your last words sound more earnest, it makes him feel better.
“i love your body, and i loved it before you started working out.” you mumble again, kissing his cheek. his scruff scratching your lips. “you better have not been starving yourself jack abbot.” you say more sternly, pinching his cheek.
“i swear, i havent. just been working out more.” he flexes his arm, his bicep looking extra biteable. but even then it doesn't satisfy you. jack sighs, cupping your cheek. “give me a couple of weeks, ill stuff my mouth with grease and junk.” he whispers, smirks as he pulls you closer to him. his cock chubbing in his jeans. “and you... your tummy will be full aswell. full of life, then we'll both be big and fat.”
you gasp, slapping his shoulder. “jackie stopp...” you whine, yet you dont pull away. the imagine does sound appealing. getting his tummy back while you being full of life. “i guess it doesn't sound so bad.” you mumble after a beat, arms wrapping around his neck.
“we can sort things out, i guess.” he grins at yours words. he can already imagine you, your tummy big and round, all swollen for him. “yeah? lets make that happen today, hm? we'll both have 9 months to fatten up.”
WARNINGS: (MDNI) suggestive content, whinny/bratty!reader, lowkey dom/mean!jack, kissing, touching, established relationship, mentions of marriage ayyyy, fem!reader implied, use of curse words, nipple play, teasing, choking lowkey, age gap not implied but pictured when written
A/N: can you tell that one line in s2 e14 reallyyyyy got to me?
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you’re pissed. jack got called into work again at the last minute. and it shouldn’t piss you off! you know who you started dating. you know he’s important and he’s needed at the hospital. but all you wanted was a date night. he’d be working a lot lately and you don’t get why. you can see the exhaustion that seeps through him after every shift. and he doesn’t need to do it. he’s worked hard and he’s well off, he could easily retire and the two of you could lay in bed for the rest of your days.
you snap out of you thoughts and look at yourself in the mirror. your hair and makeup was done. you brought a new dress for this occasion too. sighing, you get undressed and wipe off your makeup. getting into bed, you think the best thing to do is just sleep it off.
it’s late in the morning when jack finally gets home. you’re woken up by jack’s voice, soft and sweet from the side of the bed. but somehow it just makes you more annoyed. your first thought is how your date night was cut short. so you don’t answer him when your eyes flutter open and you don’t kiss back when he presses a kiss to your lips.
“what’s the matter with you, hm? still tired?” he asks.
you don’t reply, turning away from him so your back is facing where he’s standing over you on your side of the bed. frowning at your antics, he asks again what’s wrong with you. this time, you just huff.
“alright enough out of you” he grunts, folding his arms.
you don’t say anything and you think that’s the end of it because he doesn’t speak again. until you feel his hands on your side, rolling you onto your back. you let him move you but refuse to make eye contact. he moves a hand to toy with the waistband of your pajama shorts. you try to ignore the growing feeling of need that courses through you. do not give in. he moves the hand to dip in your waistband, feeling you over your panties.
“wanna tell me what’s wrong yet, sweetheart?” he presses his fingers down harder as he talks. your still not looking at him, shaking your head as a no while you bite your lip to stop from moaning.
he pulls his hand out of your pants and moves it up to your shirt, lifting it up so your tits can be seen. he pinches a nipple. you let out a whine at this, finally looking at him.
“jack! stop being mean” you complain, pushing his hand off and pulling down your shirt.
“i’m being mean? you’re the one that’s ignoring me after i came home from a shift” he laughs.
“yeah ‘cause you deserve it,” you grumble.
“oh yeah? why do i deserve it?” he asks condensingly.
“you missed date night! and you do it all the time. ‘s not fair i’m alone all the time!” you whine, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting.
“you’re such a baby” he replies.
you sit up on the bed at that, up on your knees so that your face to face with jack.
“i’m not a baby, you just don’t care about me anymore!” you point at his chest as you accuse him. jack grabs your wrist, stopping your movements and you try to pull away from his grip.
“let me go! don’t want you to touch me!”
jack let’s go of your wrist, like you ask. but instead, he moves it up to your neck. he squeezes slightly, just to remind you who’s in charge. and it does the trick, shutting you up. he free hand slides down to your shorts once more, but this time he slips it right in past your panties. you ground yourself by resting your hands on his shoulders. his middle finger slides through your folds and your eyes flutter. his ring finger joins him and they circle your clit. you let out a breathy moan.
“don’t want me to touch you but you’re this wet? make up your mind babe” he teases.
“fuck off. don’t want you near me.” you get out but it’s not very convincing. jack chuckles, his fingers rubbing faster as he leans closer and presses kisses your jaw.
“you’re mad i took an extra shift?” he murmurs against your skin.
“yes! you- you’re never around,” you say between a moan.
“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he huffs out a laugh. “wanna know why i’m always taking those shifts baby? hm? do it so i can get the prettiest and biggest ring on your finger”. he moves his fingers back between your folds, rubbing your wetness around, making a mess.
he brings his fingers out of your panties and up to your mouth. he presses them to your lips and forces you to suck on them, forcing you to taste yourself. he pushes his fingers further down your throat and you try not to gag.
You had his cock halfway down your throat as Jack groaned low and tired, one hand sliding into your hair as you sucked him slow and wet, tongue pressing flat against the underside just how he liked. He was stressed from the long day, but he was thick and heavy on your tongue.
“Baby,” he rasped, voice rough with exhaustion. “That’s it. Just like that.”
You hummed around him, bobbing your head deeper, taking more of his thick cock until your nose brushed his pelvis. Jack let out a shaky moan, fingers tightening in your hair.
“Shit… your mouth feels so fucking good after the day I had,” he groaned. “Just a bad shift from the start. You always know exactly how to take care of me.”
You pulled back with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock, and looked up at him with glassy eyes as you stroked him slowly with your hand. Jack’s head fell back against the wall, another low moan slipping out as you licked around the head, teasing the slit with your tongue.
“Yeah… just like that, baby. Use your tongue right there. Fuck, you’re so good at this.”
You took him back into your mouth, sucking harder, faster, the wet, filthy sounds of you slurping on his cock filling the quiet apartment. Jack’s tired groans turned into deeper, breathier moans as you worked him, spit dripping down your chin and onto your tits.
“Sweetheart… you’re sucking me so fucking well,” he groaned, hips twitching. “Such a greedy little mouth. Taking me so deep like you were made for it.”
You moaned around him, the vibration making his cock throb. Jack’s grip in your hair tightened, his moans getting louder and words nastier as his control started slipping.
“Fuck— yeah, just like that. Suck it harder, baby. You’re gonna make me cum so fucking fast if you keep going like this.”
You bobbed faster, hand twisting around the base, sucking him sloppy and desperate. Jack’s moans turned raw and broken, low and filthy as he started losing it.
“Shit… I’m so close already. You’re sucking my cock like such a dirty little thing. Look at you, drooling all over me. Such a good fucking girl.”
His thighs started trembling, breathing ragged as he fucked your mouth with shallow thrusts.
“Fuck— baby I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Gonna paint that pretty face. You want it? Want me to cum all over you?”
You moaned eagerly around him, sucking harder. Jack let out a deep, guttural moan as he pulled out of your mouth at the last second, stroking himself fast.
“Open your mouth— fuck, that’s it.”
Thick ropes of cum land across your face — your cheeks, your lips, your tongue, even landing on your lashes. Jack kept moaning loudly through it, voice hoarse and desperate as he emptied himself all over you, hips jerking with every pulse.
When he finally finished, he was panting hard, chest heaving as he looked down at your cum-covered face.
“Fuck… look at you,” he groaned, voice completely wrecked. “Covered in my cum. Such a good fucking girl for me.”
He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, pushing some of his load into your mouth. You sucked it clean, eyes locked on his. Jack let out another low groan, pulling you up into his lap and kissing you deep, tasting himself on your tongue.
“You’re too good to me, baby,” he whispered against your lips, still breathing hard. “Too fucking good.”
going feral for waking robby up in the morning w ur mouth on his dick so u can feel it get hard <3
this made my tummy flipppppp //
worst part is you're not even sucking it! robby wakes up to his dick wrapped snug and wet in your warm mouth, twitching against the side of your cheek every time you suckle on it in your half asleep state. your head on his thigh facing him, eyes mostly closed but he knows by your breathing that you're awake.
he grunts, low and rumbly, and puts a hand on your head, brushing hair out of your eyes thumb following the line of your nose and cheekbones. "woke up hungry, honey?"
you hum so soft n sleepy, making vibrations against his cock, eyes fluttering open to look at him with hearts in them, speaking muffled around him. he cracks a smile at that and gently pulls you off, wiping a little drool off your chin. "say that again?"
"wanted to taste you," you blink so slowly he almost thinks you're drunk, and I guess you are but only on how good and heady he smells, how familiar he feels on your tongue. you turn and kiss at his palm before turning back to your treasure, a soft kiss then a wet kitten lick. "stay soft, okay, daddy?"
he chokes on a laugh then, letting you take him all the way down your throat again. "I'll try, honey."
synopsis Jack was just looking for an easy night, a quiet drink, but what he finds is so much better. You, sat in a seat that's his, fresh, new and young to the area, starting a new job with your dad. Jack just didn't think to ask the right questions... (5.2k words)
warning Smut MDNI! younger reader, older jack! Robby's daughter reader! oral (f receiving!) making out, language, protected p in v, dirty talk, praise king, reader is described to have longish hair, reader calls jack solider, peep the quin audio hints
authornotei locked tf in with this if i do say so myself. had this idea sitting in my drafts had to write it, if you like i would love to do a part two, the idea of dads best friend has me with a chokehold. i made up a small, tiny backstory for jack as we know so little. the beautiful jack gif credits go to @lovebugism (her fics are so good !!!!!)
pitt masterlist! another Jack fic!
Jack didn't have a specific place at the bar, but everyone knew where he sat. He got half way across the bar, dragging himself across the sticky floor before he realised there was someone else sitting in his seat. He could tell it was his stool from the slight wobble it gave side to side, and he could tell it was a young woman sitting in his seat from the sound of her laugh.
Terry, his favourite bar tender who'd seen him at his worst and best, caught a look at him and grinned.
“Hey! Just the guy I was talking about!”
Jack didn't know he was territorial about his bar. But he found himself sliding into another bar stool with a sulk. “Usual please, Terry,” he said, letting his backpack drop with a heavy thud.
“You got it, boss!”
A whiskey would soon be slid over the counter, chased by another and maybe another till a small fuzz clouded the edges of his mind and he could sleep easier. He forgot just how gruelling days could be.
But then he spotted you.
You were still smiling with the remnants of a laugh. One finger on your right hand was chasing the condensation down your emptying glass. He did a double take at you, looking past the hair falling to the smooth skin, doted with a mole or two.
You were young. The sort of young you didn't find in a bar- at least not alone. But this bar also wasn't the busiest, exactly why he liked it.
You didn't look like you belonged there. At the same time, you looked like there was nowhere else you wanted to be. Your chin rested in your other hand, your jacket was slung over the back of the stool and you weren't shying away from anything around you.
Jack's whiskey was dropped off in front of him and finally Jack got a look at you. Beautiful. There was no other way around it. He wasn't going to judge a book from its cover but he had a feeling your beauty wasn't the last thing to surprise him.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asked you once he held your attention for more than a second.
Your eyes widened, as if you hadn't expected him to talk to you. “Oh no, thanks, I shouldn't drink too much tonight.”
“What?” said Terry, pretending to wipe over a 'dirty' spot on the counter. “I thought you were celebrating, huh?”
Jack's brows rose. “A celebration?”
“She just moved to the city,” said Terry.
You smiled, bashfully. “I got a new job.”
“Congratulations,” said Jack. “And welcome, this is Pittsburgh's finest.”
“Thanks,” you said.
There was a moment passed in silence where the both of you seemed to understand the two ways the night could go. If you mutually decided to keep it there, a polite congratulations and a kind offer of a drink maybe you'd just remember him as the kind, older stranger.
You turned to him. “If the offer of that drink still stands I think I'd like to take it.”
Jack moved his body to face yours. He glanced at Terry, who waited happily. “Another one for-”
You told him your name and it chimed a bell in Jack's head, as if he'd been waiting his whole life to hear your name from your lips. He introduced himself and his fate was sealed.
“So, are you a native to Pittsburgh?” you asked, twirling a bit of hair between your fingers.
Jack lifted his shoulders. “Came her to settle down after some things.” He didn't want to get into the whole collage and tours and losing his leg and moving here after losing his wife. He didn't want to watch that pretty face of yours contort with worry or sympathy. “Are you new here, or?”
“Kinda. My dad's around her, parents divorced so I only see him sometimes,” you explained, flippantly.
“And now you got a job here?”
“Now I'm here.”
You told him where abouts you were living which had him worrying if he was any other random guy at a bar that you'd be telling him, putting yourself in (potential) danger. Or maybe Jack was special. It wasn't a very good area, the sort he never even looked at when he was moving, but he knew it was cheap.
“I passed this place driving in, looked good,” you said.
Jack chuckled and leaned in to avoid Terry's ears as he'd gone off to change the channels and some other guys requests. “Clearly your new around here. When I said it was Pittsburgh's finest.... it might have been an exaggeration.”
You laughed and Jack wondered what other stupid jokes he could make to have you laughing again. “Well, nobody's offered me the grand tour yet.” You took a swig of your beer.
There was an opening.
Jack didn't know why he was looking for one but it was out of his lips before he really understood what he was doing. “If you ever need a tour guide,” he said, gesturing to himself. Did he look dumb doing so?
You raised your brows. “You might regret that. I ask a lot of questions. I'm really into my history.”
“Good thing I know a lot about this place.” He did not, but he could read some stuff up.
“You know, you're quite the charmer, Jack,” you said, seizing him up.
He nodded his head side to side. “You've caught me on a good day. Any other day I'm an asshole,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. What was he doing? “I- that was a bad joke. I'm not an asshole. At least I don't think so.”
“I don't think so,” you said. “After all you're keeping a lonely girl like me company.”
“You moved alone?”
You smirked. “Are you asking me if I have a boyfriend?”
Jack usually came to this bar for a quiet one after work. At 6 am he'd nurse a whiskey, an un healthy habit he knew. Sometimes he was called in early and only had a couple hours to spare before his actual shift started he'd hang around, have a glass of water of a crappy cup of black coffee. He didn't come here to flirt with girls. Young girls who would probably attract some stares if he walked around with you on his arm.
Yet the idea of doing just that thrilled him.
“I guess so, yeah.”
A small dusting or blush rose to your cheeks. “Well, I'm alone. There was this guy back where I used to live but.... meh, he was stupid.”
Jack nodded, listening as if you were one of his patients. “He dump you?”
“He cheated on me.”
“Then he's the stupidest guy around.”
You smiled, laughing off your blush. “You know, you don't know me yet. I could be a massive asshole.”
“Well that's up for me to decide,” he said, as if he hadn't decided you were anything but.
It didn't take long for the place to fill up after that, people finishing work or deciding to end their nights of drinking there. It wasn't usual for Jack to be around at that sort of time, so the in flood of people surprised him, crowding the two of you at the bar.
That's how he ended up in a booth with you, an arm slung over the back of the cushioned seat as you sat in the ghost of his touch. You were almost leaning into him but keeping a conscious decision not to fall into his arm. The both of you were still nursing the same drink an hour later, sharing stories from each others lives.
Jack didn't ask about your new job and you didn't tell him.
“How long's your dad been out here?” Jack asked.
“Practically all his life,” you said. “But he moved when he met my mom, they separated when I was like five? He came back here so usually I'm just visiting.”
Jack nodded, briefly eyeing how close his hand was to touching you. So far he'd kept it polite. A hand helping you off from the bar stool (you did not need his help), a gentle hand on the small of your back as he led you to the booth, a finger brushing away lint that wasn't on your shoulder. He just wanted to touch you again.
“You close with him?”
You smiled, un-easy. “Well I'm about to be. I'm working with him.”
Jack made a wince and an O face.
Soon enough you were shuffling out of the booth, saying you needed to use the restroom. Jack knew stories about girls who went to the bathroom and didn't come back out, climbing through the window and leaving the guy to wonder what he'd done wrong.
He tried not to let his mind wonder. He checked himself, kept an eye on any guy wondering closely and tugged your drink closer to him, though the bottle was practically empty as well as his glass. He chucked a mint from his pocket into his mouth and chewed it down quickly.
He checked his phone once and then sat and waited.
When you got back to the table, you weren't alone.
Jack frowned as he saw the guy at your side, big enough to swallow you up and shirt so tight on him Jack had a suspicion he brought a size too small on purpose. He straightened at the pinch in your brows and purse of your lips.
The guy at your side was equally studying Jack.
The both of you stopped in front of him and you gestured down to Jack.
“Told you,” you said in answer to a conversation he wasn't apart of.
Jack didn't know what was going on and he wasn't picking up on any social cues. He lifted up a hand, grey hairs rising along his arms in a shiver. “Hi.”
“Oh,” said the guy. “That's cool, I guess. Maybe I'll see you around.”
You shrugged and took your seat next to Jack, this time tight into his side. He let his arm drape around your shoulder.
The guy took his cue and dismissed himself, wandering back to his buddies at the bar, looking back to you once.
“What was that about?” Jack asked, checking the guy one more time.
You didn't move from his side, only turned into him and he didn't move his arm. “Sorry, the guy was waiting for me to come out the bathroom. I told him I was here with... my dad.”
Jack had expected a lie you'd told the guy. Maybe you said you were already here with someone, a boyfriend maybe? “Your dad?” he chocked on his breath. Was he old enough to be your dad? Probably.
“I'm sorry, I panicked!” you said with a laugh.
It was infectious. Jack couldn't help but chuckle to, rubbing away at a wrinkle in his forehead. “I couldn't have been your partner? Or something.”
“C'mon, you think me saying I have a boyfriend will change him hitting one me?” you asked. “A guy like that?”
“You weren't interested in him?” Jack asked, looking over your shoulder to pass a small glare over to the guys. “Buff. Blonde. Young.”
You shook your head, pushing yourself further into his arm. “Nah. I like mine with meat on their bones. Darker... maybe greyer hair,” your eyes looked all over him, lingering at the lower part of his face. “Older.”
You were a treat dangling in front of him and Jack was starved.
He licked at his lips. “Well, I don't think dads do this-”
Before you could question him, Jack took a risk and kissed you.
You welcomed him warmly, your lips soft and eager against his. Where he tried to take it slow, you let him. His hand spread across your back, drawing you in as his head tilted, nudging you to be closer, closer, closer. His tongue traced the bottom of your lip and you opened obedient, tongue hot as you fought his, gasping into his mouth.
He felt the twitch of himself in his trousers, the tightening around his crotch.
Your mouth was warm, tinged with the bitter beer you'd sipped and something sweet on your lip-gloss.
He dragged himself away to catch a breath that his whole body burned for. Your lips chased his, body leaning into his.
Your lip-gloss was smeared down your chin and Jack was all too happy to swipe his thumb and wipe it off, savouring the sticky-ness of it and slight shine on his thumb.
Jack dared take a look at the bar where the guy and his pals stood. His mouth was slightly agape at witnessing the kiss and Jack was all to keen to keep his eyes on him as he kissed you again.
Jack couldn't tell which one of you was more ravenous. If his hands were fumbling with your jean buttons with more need than your own was trailing under his shirt and tugging it over his head.
He thinks it might be him but if you wanted the title he'd give it to you gladly, eager to please.
He had you leant back on the sofa left only in your pretty pink bra, your legs thighs thrown over his shoulders as he feasted upon you, boxes you hadn't un-packed building your own kingdom around you. He was a devout solider upon his queen, if anything.
Your chest heaved in a breath you just couldn't catch, gasping in the pleassure he was drawing out. “J-Jack-”
If he thought your lip-gloss smeared down your chin was a sight your arousal slowly making a mess of his face as he licked into you was a new delight entirety.
He wanted your slick mess to slide down his chin, down the greying hairs of his chest and all the way down to where his cock stood at attention under his trousers.
Jack's hips were bucking, chasing any small friction in his denim. “You like that?” he asked, flicking the tip of his tongue into you.
“Yes, yes, I do.”
He puckers his lips and slurps up your arousal, fingers digging into your thighs and keeping them open, supporting you as your hips bucked up helplessly.
He looks up, the bliss on your face a small indicator of your end coming soon. Jack lets you come, coaxes it out of you with avid sucks and licks.
You came on his tongue on gasps of his name. He'd heard his name yelled before, heard it whispered in dying urgency. Heard it snapped in anger but nothing was better than the sweet call of his name from your lips, drunk on your first orgasm.
He crawled back up you once your body had started to calm. Jack pressed his mouth into your own, sharing the taste of yourself as his hands were skilful in sneaking around your back and un-clasping your bra.
You sighed into him at the freeing feeling and his hands cupped you at once, messaging your breasts.
Jack kissed at you, moaning at the softness he felt in the palm of his hands. “You're so-mmph- so fucking beautiful.”
You toss your hair over your shoulder and look down to him, bringing him back up with your hands on his cheeks, his stubble rubbing into the palm of your hands.
He licked into you, groaning at the taste of your mouth. At every taste of you it was new, like he'd forgotten what you tasted like before and it was the first time.
“Wanna-” he said, breathless pulling away. “Wanna kiss you all the time from now on.”
“Is that a promise?” you said, grinning and pecking his lips.
Jack smiled too, your teeth clashing as he nodded.
He let himself be led like a dog to your room. There was a mattress on the floor, a suitcase or two pressed up against the wall and a box left open. Jack wanted to peak inside, wanted to see what else was about you. He wanted to know everything.
Your lips promised more, more, more.
Jack's hands fell useless at his sides as he felt the brush of your knuckles go to his belt. He closed his eyes, letting you work. He heard the clatter of the belt whipped off and thrown aside carelessly. He bit down on his lip with a smile.
He only opened his eyes as he felt you tug off his jeans, the fabric catching at his prophetic.
You looked at it for a second before looking up at him.
He hadn't felt insecure about his leg in years. It knocked on his consciousness then, keen to enter. He couldn't think of what to say. “Urm- yeah-”
He was calmed when you slowly sank to your knees and kissed over the lingering scars there, your nails scraping down his thighs. His cock twitched happily in his boxers and you could see the excitement leaking from him early.
“Come here,” he said with a rumble of his voice.
You were up on your feet and he was kissing you again, holding your mouth open to just taste you. He pulled off his boxers, kicking them away before his hands traced up the sides of you.
“I have- I have condoms,” you said, hands pushing him away lightly. “Make yourself comfortable, soldier.”
Jack was glad you'd turned your back to fetch condoms you'd packed luckily in the easy and already open box in the corner of your room. It gave him time to ease himself down on the mattress and watch as you bent over to find the condoms.
He was shocked he wasn't tasting blood as he bit hard down on his lip. If he wasn't so desperate to feel your warmth around him he'd have given himself a little tug, but he was too scared he'd come too soon.
Settling comfortable on your mattress on the floor, Jack tugged on the condom and sat himself up to brush your hair back.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
You nodded and leant into kiss him.
Jack wrapped a light hand around you neck and urged you back, looking in your eyes. You knew what he wanted.
“Yes, Jack. I'm very, very sure.”
He smiled and was ready to move when you stopped him with hands on his thighs.
“Can I... I want to be on top.”
Was Jack supposed to say no to you? You may as well have asked him to build your mattress, un-back all your boxes, re-paint your walls. If you'd asked, he would have done anything for you at that moment.
When you gripped the base of his cock he held his breath. When his tip was pushed into you he exhaled with a loud groan.
“Ssh,” you laughed. “I don't want to get noise complaints from the neighbours already.”
Jack held onto your hips, supporting you. “Fuck your neighbours.”
He focused on the feel of you as you lowered yourself all the way, his cock stretching you open.
“Oh shhiiiit... god,” Jack gasped, seeing where you sat flush on his lap, the head of his cock twitching inside of you.
Your head was leant back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
“No- look at me, look at me,” he said, lifting his hand to pinch your chin and drag your gaze back down. You opened your eyes that had turned dark with desire. “Yeah, just like that. Keep your eyes on me.”
And you did as you leant back onto your hands, slowly dragging yourself from him and then back down, setting a pace you were comfortable with.
Jack let you take the lead, lying there and taking it with mutters of encouragement and groans of disbelief. He laid his hand upon the bottom of your stomach, almost being able to feel him inside you. That- or you were driving him crazy.
When the sound of skin on skin sounds you switch your tactic, leaning over him and grinding down.
Your eyes were fluttering in pleasure, your mouth left open. You were still trying so hard to keep your eyes on him just as he'd told you to. “Oh fuck, Jack, it's-it's too much.”
“No it's not, honey,” he coaxed, brushing back your hair and holding your cheek in hand. “You're being so good for me. Just a- just a little longer.”
You whined, walls fluttering around him and sucking him in.
Jack didn't know where he was finding the restraint not to come from. It had been a while for him, since he'd talked to someone as pretty as you, since he'd been in a bed that wasn't his. Since he'd had something other than his own hand to come onto.
Your grinding became un-stable, your thighs squeezing around him. “Jack, I think- I'm gonna come.”
He wrapped an arm around you and drew you in till you were held against his chest. The sweat against your bodies rubbed and mixed with the saliva shared between your mouths in kisses where you both fought for dominance.
At the angle of you pushed down on top of him his cock was deeper. He was so close to you, so close in more ways than one.
Jack groaned out your name, his cock twitching inside of you, begging to be released. “Come for me, honey... come for me-”
With a loud moan into his neck you let go around him, walls clamping down on him.
Jack let go of his restraint, planting his good foot on the mattress and thrusting up into you at an odd but delicious angle, once- twice! Before he came, slumping down on the mattress.
The both of you laid there, his hands brushing down your back and bringing out shivers.
“I have never come like that in my life,” he panted, catch his breath.
You looked at him. “What? On your back, on a mattress on the floor with boxes piled up. Or was I just that good?”
He hummed and pretended to think about it. “How about all the above?”
The both of you laughed.
Once you'd both used the bathroom and had returned to your room Jack was still naked while you'd thrown on his shirt, drowning in the smell and feel of him. He'd never wished he was younger and could get it up quicker than in that moment.
You fell back down on your mattress, nodding and inviting Jack to lie down next to you. To stay the night. So, it wasn't that kind of one night stand. Good. He wanted it to be an every night stand.
Jack got down on your mattress but resigned himself to the bottom, slowly pulling apart your legs, taking his time like he hadn't been able to bring himself to do out in your living room.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him. “Jack, what are you doing?”
“Ssh,” he said, finding himself between your legs again. “We don't want noise complaints from the neighbours, already.”
Jack woke with his body like soup. His body was drifting in bliss, the sort one got after swimming all day, leaving limbs sleepy with exhaustion and the activities still sat in your bones.
His body ached with you. With the feel of your hands tugging at his hair as he had you coming on his tongue a second time, your hands on his chest as you moved on top of him.
He reached for you, finding an emptiness with nothing but the smell of you left on your pillows.
Jack inhaled sharply before he heard the shower turn off and door thrown open. A cloud of hot condensation and the scent of your shampoo hit him as you stepped out, wrapped in a towel.
Jack rolled over, peering at you through sleep. “Morning.”
“Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I was hoping to let you sleep in for... like, ten minutes,” you said.
“Don't worry about it. I'm an early riser,” he said, checking his phone for the time. Half six in the morning. It wasn't technically a lie. He was up at this hour, finishing his shift. “First day at the job today?”
“Yes, and I'm working with my dad so I cannot be late.”
Jack pushed himself up, finding his boxers. “You get ready. You want me to make some coffee? Providing you've un-packed it.”
You rose a brow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You trying to make a wife out of me, Jack?” you teased.
He smiled down at you when he stood, almost challenging.
“Coffee pots on the side, it was one of the first things I un-packed.”
Jack kissed your cheek before sleepily making his way through your place, manoeuvring with far less grace than lust had him moving the night before. He flicked on lights, started the coffee and took the extra couple minutes to peer into boxes that had been ripped open. There wasn't much, clothes, a couple trinkets and such. Text books that were so large and piled up he couldn't make one from the other.
He'd just caught a glimpse of you as a kid, hands in between two other people. One, a woman he assumed was your mother and the other he didn't get to see before he heard your trainers squeak on the floor and was backing up from the boxes.
He poured you a coffee and handed it to you, watching you take large gulps.
“Thanks. I'm sorry, I wouldn't usually do this but I really got to run,” you apologised.
“That's fine, I'll dress and I could give you a lift in?” he offered. “I'd really like to see you again.”
You smiled, cheeks popping. “Well, I'd really like that too. But you don't have to give me a lift in, I'll drive myself, otherwise I'd have no way of getting back.”
Jack was seconds away from offering to pick you up too. Any excuse to see you before he realised he was back on nights tonight. Would it even be plausible? To be able to spend more time with you?
He'd move heaven and earth to make it possible. He'd got his first sip of you and was addicted.
“Take your time,” you added. “Shower. Eat left over takeaway in my fridge. You can steal from me if you want but I warn you I have very little worth taking.”
Jack sighed playfully. “I'm sure I can think of something you'll miss. You have your phone?” he asked, holding out his hand.
You handed it to him, un-locking it first.
Jack typed in his number, adding his name as a contact and in brackets added- guy from bar/a good lay. Just in case you forgot. “You can call me when you want that tour of the place,” he said, as nonchalant as possible, wishing at once he'd slid his jeans on just to be able to slide his hands in the pockets.
You read what he saved himself as and laughed. “A good lay, you were a bit more than that, solider.” You slid your phone into your jacket pocket, hiding your inform or something underneath.
Jack smirked, leaning in. “Really?”
“Really.”
He leant in and kissed you. He wasn't forcing your mouth open, he wasn't grabbing at you although he wanted to do both. He knew, maybe more than most, the importance of getting to work on time. But he could almost imagine this was his life. Waking early to make you coffee and food, kissing you and sending you on the way to work. Coming home to find you waiting for him, his name laced on your lips.
“I really have to go,” you mumbled against his lips.
“Then go,” he said, kissing you again.
He walked you to the doors, quick kisses being shared, small touches he dared tempt himself with before you were fleeing, practically running away to not regret leaving.
Jack did take you up on your offer and had a very cold shower.
The rest of the day Jack thought about you, teased himself with you. He'd never felt so infatuated before. He returned to his place in the late afternoon after spending time just breathing your things in. His apartment felt shockingly empty, too neat even though Jack hadn't cleaned in a while. It didn't feel lived in, loved in. It was probably painfully obvious it was a bachelor pad.
However he didn't have to linger long. He showered again and dressed in scrubs, checking his phone once and finding a text from you.
I've been thinking, a good lay really doesn't cover it, a solid nine out of ten.
He smirked down at his phone, tutting.
Only a nine?
Your reply came almost instantly.
Well, there's always room for improvement.
I'll show you improvement. Maybe a nice dinner would get me to an 11/10?
Already got yourself a 9.5 solider :)
The smile that wasn't an emoji tugged at his heart strings.
Jack didn't know how he was supposed to take you to a dinner when he worked nights and your job was a day thing apparently but he'd work it out. You wouldn't have to worry a thing.
By the time he was clocking into work that evening he was so distracted in checking the best restaurants around (what had the best food, or the best views, which played nice music, which were expensive...) he was so distracted he didn't even notice he was in early.
“Brother!” Robby called, greeting him with a wide grin and hug.
Jack was slow in hugging him back. Hiding his phone in his back pocket from your texts before hugging him back, worry pulsing in his veins. A happy Robby always worried him. “Hey, you're cheerful.”
Robby pulled away, shrugging. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Nobody die today?”
“No, two people dead.”
Jack frowned. “And we're happy about that?”
Dana called his name from the nurses station, urging him over.
Robby's hand was steady with a firm grip as he led Jack over. “Glad you could make it in early, there's actually someone I want you to meet.”
“Someone, huh?” Jack wondered if Robby had finally decided to ditch his seven week itch thing and maybe try seven months, maybe even get to a famous seven years. Had he been waiting till it was serious to introduce him to the special woman?
“Picked them up from the airport yesterday while you covered my day, thank you.”
Jack had only just dropped his back at the counter when your name was called.
And suddenly there you were- glancing up at Robby in a way that gave no shock to hear him call you.
You looked at Robby then found Jack.
Scrubs. You were in black scrubs just like him, a navy top underneath. Your hair was scraped back from this morning, showing the expanse of your neck that he remembered nipping and licking the night before. Your eyes were plain, expression dropped as you stared at him, feet carrying you over to Robby on autopilot.
Jack watched as Robby's hand laid on your shoulder like it was always meant to be there.
And I'm working with my dad so I cannot be late.
Oh, god no.
“Jack, this is my daughter,” said Robby, saying your name with practised ease and a proud grin. “This is Jack Abbot, night attending. My best friend.”
