⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ another fic that's been in my drafts for way too long LMAO. as i wrote this i def imagined rafe to be in his early to mid-thirties.
જ⁀➴ ♥︎ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ ࣪ ˖
rafe didn't have the best luck when it came to dating.
he'd been divorced for a few years now after his ex-wife left him for her tennis instructor because rafe quote-unquote, 'worked too much', which didn't bother her when she was spending all the money he was bringing in.
he had tried downloading some dating apps, but when it came to the part where he was supposed to write a bio, to come up with something interesting to say about himself, he couldn't seem to come up with anything. outside of his work, he didn't really know who he was.
meeting people in real life was even worse; long gone were the days when he managed to charm the clothes off a woman with only a few words; now he felt tongue-tied at even the thought of doing that. so, his right hand became rafe's go-to way to relieve pent-up frustrations.
tonight was one of those nights; rafe was leaning on the wooden headboard of his bed, laptop resting next to him as he scrolled through the adult website; there was a specific actress he'd discovered whose videos he especially liked, scrolling through the selection of videos when a pop-up notification appeared.
THIS USER IS LIVE. JOIN NOW!
the cursor was hovering over the notification; he knew that the woman he watched did some kind of live streams, but he had never been active when she was doing one; a part of him couldn't help but be curious to know how different the live shows were from the videos she posted. what was the harm in taking a look?
he pressed the button to join, and once the page loaded, it revealed you kneeling on a bed in nothing but a pair of lacy red panties, your tits visible through a sheer button-down you'd unbuttoned, but which you held closed with your hands. the camera cut off just above your lips like usual; you never showed more than that, and rafe understood it more than anyone. anonymity.
rafe looked to the chat, filled with various men leaving tips and comments one after the other.
KINGCOBRA: god, you’re so hot
MEGAGOAT tipped $5
SHADOW69: take it off
"take it off." you read out, letting out a soft, teasing chuckle as your fingers toyed with the collar of your blouse, "hmm, i don't know… should i really?"
SHADOW69 tipped $15
SHADOW69: come onnn
"someone's impatient…" you purred, but did as the comment told you to, letting the white sheer fabric slide down your arms, baring your tits, your hands gently palming them. when the comments started flooding, rafe pressed the button to disable them, the man feeling much more vulnerable than he did when watching one of your videos.
"i got something in the mail today, and i thought… what better time to test it than now?"
your lips quirked up into a mischievous grin as you held up a black rabbit toy with golden detailing, showing it off to your webcam. rafe rubbed his hand over the hard-on that was clearly visible through his pajama pants, a low shuddering breath leaving his lips as your tongue darted out, licking a sloooow stripe up from the base of the toy up to the tip. "f-fuck..." rafe muttered under his breath, picturing his cock in place of the toy.
"you want me to use it already?" you tutted your lips, "i guess you really are impatient..."
he could picture you in the room with him, on your knees, just like you were on the screen right now, the man pretending that the words you were saying were just for him.
as you pressed the button on the toy, a sudden buzzing sound started to echo out of the laptop's speakers. rafe watched as you brought the toy to your clit, starting to tease yourself over the lace of your panties. as you took in a low breath and put more pressure on the toy, rafe's cock twitched in the confines of his pajama pants.
it didn't take long for the red fabric of your panties to start showing a damp patch on them, making you let out a chuckle thick with arousal. you turned off the toy, and started paying attention to the chat, "who thinks i should take these off, hm?" you asked with feigned innocence, your voice sickly sweet as you trailed a manicured finger over the lacy band of your underwear, "i think they're getting restrictive..."
a pinging sound started playing over and over, signifying that people were sending you donation after donation. you bit down on your lower lip as you started lowering the lacy underwear until they were on your knees. at this, rafe tugged his pajama pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock from its confines, letting it rest on his lower abdomen, hand positioned at the base of it as he watched you slide two fingers up your folds; even as you separated them, your digits were connected by a string of your arousal.
"do you see how wet i am? all for you..." you whispered in a soft tone, rafe picturing that you were whispering it into his ear as his hand slowly started stroking up his cock with a shaky breath, a bead of pre-cum leaking from the slit of his cock.
you opened the bottle of lube, spreading some on the palm of your hand, and as you spread it onto the longer part of the toy by lewdly stroking it, rafe stroked himself in the same manner, hips bucking off the bed as he pictured it was your hand.
"fuck..." rafe muttered under his breath as he watched you start to push the longer part of the rabbit into you, your legs shaky as the black toy disappeared inch by inch until it's fully sunk into you, the shorter part pressing on your clit.
you pressed down on the button, a lewd moan leaving your lips as the toy started vibrating inside of you and on your clit. "oh, god…" you whine, slowly moving the toy in and out of you.
rafe matched your pace with his own hand, closing his eyes and focusing on the moans you were letting out; picturing that he was the one who was making you let out those sounds, that instead of the adult toy, he was the one thrusting into you.
suddenly, a certain face came to his mind.
there was a reason that you were his favorite to watch; your body looked so much like the woman living next door to rafe; even your voices sounded similar. the woman rafe wished he dared to approach.
rafe couldn't help but picture that it was her letting out those moans, speeding his fist up, the groans that left his lips getting louder and louder as he felt himself getting closer, his thoughts getting more clouded.
and as rafe spilled his load onto his lower abdomen with a low grunt, he had no idea that the pretty neighbor he was thinking about as he came was getting herself off on his laptop screen.
he especially didn't know that the reason you were getting off was because you were thinking about him.
Synopsis: You were on an expedition with a team to investigate ape behavior. After setting off a booby-trap accidentally, it's not your team that finds you, but an ape-like man. Is he the missing link anthropologists have been looking for? You need to take him back to camp, and you're thinking of luring him in by more than one way.
A/N: I dont give a fuck if this movie is older than me this man is HOT no one talks about him and im SICK of it.
3.9k words
You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale through your mouth. You were growing irritated. You were somewhere in West Africa sweating your balls off (if you had any) trying to follow where the shrewdness of apes went. They had a tendency to relocate to avoid predators, and they happened to the night you slept in.
You didn't bother asking your team to help you look. You all have been up doing your notes for your dissertation and you decided that they deserved some shut eye. You were tempted to ask the person who was guiding you through the jungles, but the language barrier made you decide not to. Too much work, but the apes couldn't have gone far right?
Since it was blazing, you decided to wear some white shorts and a tan button up shirt completed with a safari hat on top. You made sure your bag was packed with snacks and water before leaving. Of course, you also brought your hunting knife. You prayed it wouldn't be necessary to use, but being out in the open made you a prey to all sorts of things.
You started your journey, keeping close to the trail you were familiar with. You started East since that's where the sun rises, praying that they would be there. You weren't sure how long you walking for until you finally found a piece of ape hair. You gasp excitedly and bent down to grab it, you were getting close.
You wiped the sweat from your forearms and continued forward with new resolution. You were going to find the nest and since it's still early afternoon, you might even be able to see-
"Ahh!" you screamed. Something tightened around your foot and you went up in the air upside, hitting your head on the ground in the process. A pained groan left your lips as you opened your eyes. You were hanging upside down by one of your ankles.
"Aw shit..." you cursed, looking up to see your foot tangled in...vine? Your eyebrows furrowed, wouldn't it have been better to use rope? Maybe your team put this here as a trap, or maybe it was the locals to catch some animals. You felt stupid as you reached upwards to grab your foot and get yourself loose.
Which was much harder than you initially thought. It was too far for you too reach and when you did manage to grasp your ankle, pain would surge from your lower back to your neck as you continued to awkwardly bend your body. Your head was pounding, blood drumming your ears before you finally gave up. They'll find you, you just have to be patient.
"HELP!" You yelled, voice echoing in the trees. You started calling your team by names, then last names. You felt your eyes water in frustration, thinking about how stupid you were to travel alone.
Granted you couldn't be that far from the trail, maybe 6 miles. But you don't know how much longer you could stand being upside down. Then it hit you, your knife! A sound of relief escaped you as your reached behind your back to grab your knife. Only your bag wasn't there. It must've flown off when you were thrusted into the air because it was 20 feet away from you on the ground.
Now you were going to really cry. No, that won't help, you think, I just need to keep yelling, but should you? Here you are alone in the jungle, making all these noises. What if you attract a predator. The thought makes you stop.
You take deep breaths as a way to keep your cool. You'll be fine, they'll find you, you just need to wa- a crunch distracts your thoughts. Your eyes try to find from where the sound came from, turning your head frantically around.
"Hello?" You call, gentle. You're not sure if it's your people, but from the lack of response you doubt it is. The crunching gets faster and louder, you hold your breath in and prepare for an animals to jump our and devour you.
Instead, a man emerges from bushes, a naked man. Almost naked, save for the piece of cloth that wraps around his waist. You narrow your eyes, unable to comprehend what you're seeing. He doesn't look like he natives that live here. The main thing to give it away is the way he walks, or more like knuckle-walking. He scoots closer to your, eyes intensely staring at you. He quadrupedaly walks to you, and you scream.
He wildly moves back, hooting as a response. You thrash around, fear bubbling in your stomach. "No! Fuck off! Go away!"
He knuckle-walks around you, inspecting to see if you're an actual threat. You're not of course, you're tied and on the verge of fainting from being upside for so long. It doesn't take long for the ape-man to realize it and come within 3 inches of your face. You stop moving and stare into his eyes. He's actually... beautiful. Looking past the dirt on his body and his tangled hair, he had a strong jaw and a large nose with a bump at the bridge. He had high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, and deep eyes. Not to mention he was staring at you in the same way, only 100x more intense. He was looking at you like you're the only woman he's ever seen, maybe the only person he's ever seen period.
His hand reaches to touch your face, his fingers gently play with your features. Starting with the nose, eyes, eyelashes, ears, then your lips. He touches his own afterwards as if comparing them. He grunts to himself as if he's talking outloud.
His hands get more explosive, moving to your neck. His hands keep traveling until they feel your breasts, he stops. He feels his own chest and a look of confusion crosses his face. When he goes back to feel your body, you thrash.
"No!"
Your stern voice makes him take a step back, but he knows you're not a real threat. He moves back to his original place and touches your top, playing with the buttons. Sweat starts to drips off your neck to the ground, you don't know how much longer you can stand this position.
His hands discover that you can unbutton these little circles, and that's exactly was he does. He doesn't even notice the bra that holds your tits, his focus completely on the shirt. When he does, his hands take no shame in touching some more.
His touch is so gentle that you instinctively puff your chest closer to him. His fingertips travel from one breast to the other, not knowing your bra can also come off.
Wait, why are you thinking about him taking off your bra? You don't know this man, if he even is a man. But the way he touches you is addicting. You love the softness of it, how he touches you as if you're the most fragile thing on this Earth.
You gently use your hands to grasp his, he jumps at the contact and look back at your eyes. You guide him to the inside of your bra, having your tits spill out. His eyes widen is surprise, as if he's never seen such a complicated contraption. He looks at his chest quickly and back at yours. He starts grabbing them and kneading them, enjoying the softness you have.
He grunts in what seems like approval. He sees you nipples harden from his touches and he pinches them. You moan in response, though you think you're just groaning from pain. You're going to blame your behavior on the lack of blood supply in your brain, but right now the dampness in your underwear is more important.
You use your hands to take off the rest of your shirt and bra, completely topless to him. This man was so entranced by your body that you have to use your hands to make him look at your face. You point to the vine that has you hostage.
"Help me down, and I'll help you," you don't even know if he can understand you, but he must because he climbs a nearby tree and loosens the knot. You fall with a thud and groan, finally feeling the extra blood leave your head.
The man climbs on top of you and looks into your eyes as if he's asking something. You nod, already knowing what he wants. You guide the back of his head back to your tits and he gratefully pops a nipple in his mouth. His hands are on either side of you, possessively keeping you under him. Your hands tangle in his hair and he continues to suck.
You hum and squeeze your legs together, wetness gathering between your legs. He releases your boob with the small pop! and goes to the other side, letting his tongue roll over your nipple. You use your hand to grab his, placing it on your other boob. He gets the message and starts massaging your boob while keeping the other in his mouth.
You moan and grind your body against his, trying to get some friction. The need in your pussy is almost unbearable, you want it to to touched, paid attention to, but you hold back. You don't want to make a decision you would regret, but you're not sure if anything you're doing is helping with that.
He suddenly stops, a whine leaving your lips when he does. He closes his eyes and inhales, looking all over your body. His smells different parts of your body, shoving his nose between your breasts.
"What?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious. The beast of a man travels down you stomach, down your navel, occasionally sticking his tongue out to taste you. Then he stops at your shorts, eyes looking into yours.
He puts his attention back onto your clothes, attempting to take them off himself. He sees the familiar button on the top of your shorts and decides he should start there. You're amazed at his intelligence. He may not be verbal, but he has amazing innovative and cognitive ability.
Your thoughts are pulled away as he manages to do the same to your shorts. He tugs them all the way down to you ankles and stares at the spot he's been aching to devour. You know you must not have the best taste considering how much you were sweating but 30 minutes prior, but this man couldn't care less. He leaned down to your core and took a deep breath, groaning as he did. His hands gripped your thighs and he squeezed them. You whimpered at his touch, opening your legs to give him better access to your pussy.
You were soaking, you could feel you essence dripping down to your body and the way you're underwear felt cold against the wind. The ape-man went it, licking your wetness and widening your legs even more. He bent your legs forwards, folding your back so you knees were almost touching your face.
You squealed at the movement never being in this position. It was pretty uncomfortable, but the way his hands held your legs by your under thighs made your stomach coil in anticipation. He used his tongue more than anything, not knowing that he could so much more.
He used his muscle to collect the remaining drool your pussy produced, trying to find the source. He was beginning to get irritated, but little did he know that your underwear was covering his desire. A part of you loved watching him struggle, but the need for him directly on you was stronger. You reached your arms around your hips and moved your underwear to the side, using your thumb to rub yourself in circles.
You tapped your pussy, making sure it made wet noises to get his attention. "Here, do it here."
The man stopped for a second, bewitched by the sight of your dripping folds and pulsing pussy. He had never seen anything like it, like a rare cuisine he was lucky enough to stumble upon. He experimentally stuck his tongue out to taste you. You hummed in satisfaction and used your fingers to spread yourself. He let your taste settle on his tastebuds, licking his lips hungrily as he decided that this was the best meal he was ever going to have.
He pushed your legs further back and buried his face into you. You moaned as his tongue shot out all over your pussy, smearing both of you juices all around. The ape man moved his face up and down against you, his large nose occasionally touching the bud of your clit.
You squirmed when he did and he noticed your behavior. He moved his tongue up to flick your bundle of nerves and you jolted. An intrigued smile found his lips as he continued his movements. It was too much, you were too sensitive and you instinctively yanked on his hair to pull him away.
You moaned in relief, but the man above you was anything but. He grabbed your hands held them down to your sides, using his chest and face to keep you in your bent position. As if to show you that he wasn't happy with your action, he ate you out brutally. He used his teeth to gently scape against your clitoris, a move he shortly found out gave him the best response.
"No no it's too much! Stop im sorry im sorry!" You cry. You pleas fell on deaf ears. He sucked hard on your bud, stretching it as he pulled away. A loud cry left out lips and he finally stopped to look at you. Your legs were shaking, sweat all over your body, back aching, and tears falling.
He gently let your legs fall so you were flat on the ground. A small sob and thank you left you as your legs closed together. The man closely looked at your face and licked your tears away, an apology. His hands soothingly went through your hair with a look of slight worry on his face.
He had such an intense gaze, you thought he would kiss you if he knew how. You sat up and put your hands on his chest, having him lay on the ground this time. Your eyes found the tent that formed in his patch of cloth. You smiled and had your hands explore his chest. He eyes you warily, not used to being under anyone or anything.
A devious smile played on your lips as you leaned down and kissed his ear, "My turn."
You sat back up and scooted down so you could place yourself between his legs, eagerly lifting off his little wrap so you could see his glory. Your eyes widened at his cock. He was so thick, veins wrapping around his length. The tip was a pretty pink, a sharp contrast to his tanned dick. You felt you mouth salivate at him and you leaned down to place a kiss on his tip.
He groaned, thrusting his hips up to feel you more. You playfully tsked and shook your head, "So impatient."
You got on all fours to be face-to-face with him, hands playing his thighs. You kissed over his pelvis, his bush, his inner thighs, anywhere besides the one place where he wanted you most. His hands went outwards besides him to grasp onto the ground beneath him. You could tell from the way he was straining and groaning, he was holding back from grasping your head. You blushed at his consideration, he's kind of a gentleman.
You decide to thank him by finally taking him into your mouth, making sure your tongue covers his slit and slowly bobbing your head up and down. He thanks you by whining, a sound that's going to forever imprint in your brain. You use one hand to keep on his stomach and the other to wrap around his shaft. You worked in one fluid motion, tasting his salty pre-cum and feeling you spit dribble out of your mouth onto your hand.
You really wanted to test your limits to see how far you could take him, but know with his girth that would be difficult. You still decided to try anyway, moving your hand to play with his balls and pulling your mouth out. He huffed in protest and looked up at you, eyes hazy.
You made sure to gather enough spit and drool over his cock. You relaxed your jaw and went back in. You took a deep breath through your nose and keep sliding down. You gagged when his tip hit you throat, but he still more than halfway to go. You closed your eyes and willed your head forward, mouth opening almost painfully.
Your pussy throbbed in excitement, imagining that it was getting stretched out instead of your mouth. The man beneath you broke, hands grasping the sides of your head and shoving you down. You violently gagged around him, eyes pooling with tears. Your nose tickled his bushy pelvis. You looked up at him to plead to let you go, but seeing your begging eyes and cock covered mouth did the opposite to him. He used your mouth as a cock sleeve, harshly dragging your lips up and down his length.
Your hands gripped his thighs, he was going so hard and fast you started thinking you were going to throw up. You eyes rolled to the back of your head you felt your pussy drip down your thighs. You've never been used by this, and you never wanted it to stop. You could probably just cum from giving him head, but your need for air was starting to get the better of you.
It took both of your hands to rip away one of his before you finally popped your mouth off his dick, gasping and coughing for air. The ape-man sat up, finally recognizing that you were on the verge of passing out. He brushed the air out your face and cradled your face into his hands. He watched as you steadied your breath, holding you close to him.
Never had a man treated you with such care and such disregard at the same time, it went straight to your aching core. You adjusted so you were straddling his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He wasn't sure what you were doing, but when he felt your folds grind against his cock he knew what you wanted.
You grabbed the base of cock, moved your underwear to the side, and smeared hit tip over your clit. Both of you hummed in unison, his grip tightening on your hips. You moved your legs so you were in a squatting position, preparing yourself to take him in.
He patiently waited as you dipped the tip of dick cock into your pussy, shivers enveloping your body. His face twisted in unfamiliar pleasure, teeth gritting. You put more of your weight on him, sinking more and more onto his cock before you finally felt him fully in your gut. Your eyes rolled back placed your head in the crook of his neck breathless. Once you adjusted, you softly bounced on him, feeling his teeth and tongue get a feel of you exposed neck and ear. He growled approvingly once you started moving more aggressively.
One of his large hands went into your scalp, yanking your hair back to bare your throat at him. A part of you grew scared, but the way he was drooling out of the corner of his lip made you bounce with more determination. He bit the base of your throat making you cry out, then licked it apologetically. He didn't know that his nips at your neck distracted you, so when you slowed your movements down he grew upset. Taking matter into his own hands, he grabbed your ass and slammed you down hard.
You yelped, picking your head up as you looked into his eyes. He has a certain glaze over his eyes, as if he wasn't really looking at you. You leaned back to show a better view of where your bodies connected, his eyes immediately went there.
This must've been some encouragement for him because he started thrusting upwards too. The pleasure was too much, twisting your gut and providing a fiery sensation in your stomach. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck for better support. You let him abuse your pussy, not caring about how he ripped your underwear off to properly see himself pound into you.
"Fuuuuuck," you moaned, "you feel so good." He had no reaction to your words, but you didn't care. He was going to bruise your hips form how hard he was holding you, but you were so close to finishing that none of that mattered.
You used one of your hands to rub your clit, attempting to finish faster. Your whines got louder and more frequent, he did the same. You tried not being loud, but you almost screamed when you came. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him and how your juices flowed out. He watched as your body nearly went limp, putting all your weight against him.
He took his opportunity to slam his cock all the way down into you until you could feel him kiss your cervix. You don't know if the noises you were making could count as moaning, but he frankly couldn't give less of a shit.
Finally, you felt the sweet warmth of his orgasm filling you up. You squeezed around him again and he moaned, wrapping his arms around your torso to make sure you didn't move from him. He couldn't stop leaking inside you as you felt some of it dribble out and possible drip down his balls.
You could tell he didn't want to pull out, satisfied with letting his cock soften between your legs. The thought to let it happen was tempting, but you already let a strange man fuck and cum inside you. There had to be some morals left.
You lifted your head up from his neck and pushed away from him. He huffed in defiance, content with his current position. You untangled yourself form him and wobbled upwards, standing. He slowly got up and looked around as if he was looking for something. Then he crawled over to your torn underwear, grabbing and putting it up to his face. You laughed as he took a deep breath, inhaling your scent like he couldn't get enough.
Once you had your top on, you walked over to him and stuck your hand out for him to give it back. Rather than obeying he growled, not threateningly, but rather in resistance. You sighed and decided going comando would be your only option.
Then an idea popped into you mind. It would be such a waste to leave a man here who seemed to listen to almost your every word. Who you could mold into the perfect fuck. Plus, you needed to study apes anyway and he seemed like the perfect willing participant.
You squatted down to his level and gently ran your fingers through his long, tangled hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. Oh yeah, you think, a perfect candidate.
You gently tapped the underwear in his hands and his eyes shot back open into yours. "Ya know," you started, "I have more of those back at camp. Wanna see?"
Hi! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED your Beast of a Man tarzan!smut. Seriously it was so engaging and you wrote him so well (HES SO HOT AGHH). He's such a hot character idk why others don't write about him, I'm starved for Tarzan fics...
Could you please make a part 2 to the smut? You have such a great/smutty idea going I would love to see you continue it!!
It would mean everything to me!
( ^◡^)
a/n: hi yes thank you so much and ofc! it's been so long since I've written smut on Tarzan so please bear with me! (fic anon is referring to here)
synopsis: You have successfully brought back the ape-man for research. Despite behaving like an animal, he's a lot more human in more ways than you originally thought.
warnings: MDNI 18+, recording during sex, oral (m!), 69ing, semi-public oral sex, cumming in mouth (m!&f!), rough throat fucking (f!rec), cum eating (m!&f!)
2.8k words
"Who the fuck is this?!"
Your colleagues screamed and ran upon seeing who, more like what, you brought back to camp. They hopped up on tables and held up papers as weapons. They eyed you both wearily, on the verge of tears as you stood just a few feet away.
"I think that's a bit extreme," you sigh.
The ape-man was beside you, clinging onto your leg like a child would do with a mother. He, too, was very wary around these strangers. You could hear him grunting and pulling at you as if keeping you from getting too close.
Cute yes, but this would mean it would take a lot of work to build trust in the entire group.
Slowly, the fellow researchers began to try and communicate with the man. Talking slowly and softly, just like you showed them to. All of you agreed that this being could be the missing link, the answer to the question anthropologists have tried to find for decades.
It took over a month for everyone to be comfortable around one another, but of course, another issue was raised.
"So does he just not have a name?" Professor Porter asked.
As of now, you all were just calling him 'the ape-man' or 'hey you' to get his attention. It never crossed your mind to give him an actual name.
"We're not gonna name that beast," Clayton butted his way into the conversation. Clayton, as big and strong as he was, seems the most afraid of your new friend. He's hostile, rude, and arrogant. Even if the ape-man cannot understand the words thrown at him, he can feel them.
The best thing to do in these situations was to ignore Clayton, he just loves the sound of his own voice.
"No," you turn your attention back to the professor. "Not that I know of at least. Should we come up with one?"
"Oh great," there's heavy sarcasm laced in Clayton's voice. "Here you are naming a dog you're not even gonna keep."
"With no due respect Clayton, please shut the fuck up," Terk, the youngest of you, speaks. Terk is small for his age, but he has built. A hairy man who's lively, talkative, and one of the natives that live here. He and the ape-man get along well, a little too well sometimes.
Clayton flips Terk the bird.
"A name for him would be nice, yes." The professor looks as though he's sweating from the tense atmosphere. "Do come up with one dear, I think the missing link would rather you do it."
It's no secret that the ape-man prefers you over the other researchers. He's constantly at your hip, following you like you have an invisible leash on him. Your colleagues, however, don't know how close you two actually are.
The conversation stays in your head for the rest of the day. A name. A name. Something everyone has yet is unbelievably difficult to come up with. Hundreds of possibilities run through your mind as you carry out your daily tasks. Even the ape-man, who's used to you ruffling his hair, grows confused about your behavior.
Nightfall comes with everyone in their tents and you still haven't come up with a name.
With a groan, you turn on your side to see the very person who's making you struggle already looking at you. His eyes are dark, but the candle in your tent lights up his features just enough. You reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his face, watching how he moves to try and get you to touch his skin.
You settle with resting the palm of your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it.
"A name," you tsk. You narrow your eyes and let your gaze travel over his body. He needs to look like his name, that's a must. "Hey, do you know what a name is?"
He doesn't answer.
"Something to call you. That's a name. Do you have one?"
He stares at you.
Well, this is going to be harder than you thought.
Pursing your lips, you say the first name that comes to mind, "Edward?"
He reacts to that. His calm expression turns into a scowl, bushy eyebrows coming together. You quietly laugh and shake your head, "Not that one okay."
"Tony?"
He frowns.
"Taren?"
He pouts.
"Okay, okay. I think I got it...Garrett."
The ape-man groans, mimicking the behavior he's seen you do hundreds of times. It shocks you to see him act so human, so you. It's equally adorable as it is terrifying.
He's gotten closer to you, a breath away. The proximity used to freak you out, but you've learned it’s how he shows his affection. His trust.
The ape-man is waiting for you to say a word he likes, a sound that comes off your tongue magically. Judging from your facial expression and earlier absent behavior, this is an important task for you.
You want the name to be strong, versatile, and not easily replaceable. The being you've found is one-of-a-kind, it's only fair his name is as well. You play with a few letters in your head, bouncing them in your mind until you think of one that suits him.
"What about Tarzan then? Do you like that one?"
His pupils dilate, watching your beautiful lips pronounce the word. His word.
"Yes."
You gasp, sitting up abruptly. Your sudden movements make him panic as he sits up with you. He scans the tent to find an intruder while you sit there stunned.
He spoke. The ape-man no! Tarzan just spoke to you. He understood language and used it, even if it was just a mere word. A one-syllable answer that has shaken you to your core.
"Oh my god. You just, Tarzan you just spoke. Holy shit, say it again. I need to capture this on video." You ruffle through your bag looking for your camera.
Tarzan stops searching the tent and looks back at you looking as confused as ever. Like he didn't just display human speech in a mere month.
Quickly, you pull out the camera and hit record, aiming the lens at Tarzan's hard, yet beautiful features.
"Repeat what you just said," you look at him through the monitor. Instead of complying, Tarzan stares blankly into the lens. "Do you like the name Tarzan?" You press.
No answer, his eyes flick from the red light to your eyes.
"Come on! Just tell me whether or not you like the name." You're starting to grow impatient. At this point, you're convinced he's just being an ass.
Finally, he adjusts his seating position. Tarzan glances down at his crotch then back up to you, then back to his crotch. You follow his gaze, trying to understand what he's trying to say. Then it clicks.
Compensation. If you want him to do you a favor, you have to do him one as well.
"Are you being serious?" You sigh at him. Tarzan gives a faint nod to you. Even if he can't do so, you swear you see him smirk. Asshole. Setting the camera down, you angle it towards the two of you. Might as well have fun with it.
You crawl your way towards him, parting his thighs slightly before giving him a playful glare, "You're such a man sometimes."
Unlike before, Tarzan wears cargo shorts rather than a mere piece of clothes from last time. Professor Porter made it clear that if he was to hang amongst you all, clothes were necessary.
They suited him nicely, even now. The way the material hugs his toned thighs, how his cock bulges through the shorts even when he isn’t hard. You couldn't help but run your hands along his muscular legs, finding his crotch.
He groaned as you palmed him, straining to not thrust his hips up. Tarzan learned to be patient with you, especially in the presence of others. Most animals didn't care whether they mated alone or in their pack. Even if Tarzan was raised by those animals, the thought of others hearing the sounds you make for him is repulsive.
Instead, he has to settle for brushing your hair from your face as you undo his buttons. Delicate fingers unzipping the seam until his half-hard cock sprouts in your face.
It doesn't matter how many times you've seen his dick, it makes your pussy quiver every time. All you can think about is how perfectly it stretches you, how the tip slides against your cunt deliciously. Your mouth salivates at the memory, and you let your spit drool off your tongue to land on his cock.
Tarzan loves the sigh. A pink tongue just hovering over his length. He also remembers the feeling of your hot mouth on him. The way your lips slowly come closer to the crown of his head, how your breath wafts over him. It feels euphoric when you finally make contact with him, mouth enclosing his flushed head.
It's so warm in your mouth, smooth as you lightly suck on him. The hand on your head slightly grips your hair, a sign that he likes the slow pace you've set. You hum around his cock, taking him a little deeper as you widen your jaw.
One of your hands makes way to grip the base, pulling the skin upwards in a stroking motion.
This makes his hips jerk, gagging you for just a split second. Your wide eyes look up at him, small tears peeking at the corners. Tarzan gives an apologetic look, but the sight of your teary eyes and pretty lips around his cock makes him fuck up toward you again.
You pull away from him, earning a whine as Tarzan throws his head back dramatically.
Maybe he thinks you're going to stop as punishment, but it's quite the opposite. Your cunt is sopping from tasting him, even if it was for a brief moment. Even if you have a task at hand, and your camera is still recording for 'research,' you have your own needs to take care of.
Tarzan is none the wiser as you put a hand on his bare chest and lay him down. He eyes you curiously but lets you push him all the way down before hopping on top. His eyes widen as he's faced with your clothed cunt. Underwear the same color as your tongue that holds the strongest smell of you.
He doesn't need any directions as he dives his nose into you. Tarzan is obsessed with your natural smell. His nose immediately grows damp from your wetness, his tongue poking out to lick the juices that leak out.
Softly moaning, you take a hold of his cock once more. You pump it a few times before taking it into your mouth. It's surprising to see that he's not humping in your mouth like normal, but he's so distracted with your pussy that he can't seem to bother noticing his own pleasure.
It's hard to focus on his hard length as his teeth tear off your panties. You gasp when you hear the fabric split, but it turns into a whine when his tongue finally makes contact with your bare cunt.
Tarzan has to grip your hips to keep you still. As much as he would love for you to grind on his face, he needs to have his meal first. His tongue runs over your folds, finding that little bud you love so much to be touched.
He sucks on it and pulls, stretching your clit. Your legs shake and you have to pull away from his cock to catch your breath. Lazy hands stroke his hard-on as you look back. You clench at the sight of his unruly hair peeking above your ass, the sounds his mouth makes as he laps at you.
Turning back to your literal task at hand, you find the energy to take his cock once more. You unhinge your jaw and exhale, taking Tarzan deeper and deeper until your eyes roll back. You hollow your cheeks and suck, moving your head back up until just the tip remains in your mouth, and go all the way back down.
Now Tarzan can feel the bliss of your mouth on him. He moans into your pussy and slightly jerks his hips up, making you gag around him once more.
Feeling you work so hard makes him want to reciprocate. He shakes his head left and right to try and bury himself deeper. He uses his grip to force you further onto his face. Tarzan's tongue finds the squeezing entrance that he's breached so many times. He digs his tongue into you, finally getting a taste of you from the source.
He's guiding your hips so you could drag your pussy against him how you like. Tarzan can feel your hips trying to pull away from him as the feeling of his tongue has gotten too much. And it has.
You're trying to distract yourself by deepthroating him, but it's no use. All you can feel is his experienced mouth, how he remembers every detail he knows you like. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and how it builds in your stomach rapidly.
Tarzan feels your legs shake. Your thighs trembling and giving out, full lower body weight on his face. He can taste how the wetness has changed, thicker and tart. Tarzan knows this taste like the back of his hand. You're going to cum, give him that white cream he loves licking out of you.
You've completely stopped paying attention to his dick. A part of you should feel bad for neglecting him, but you can't seem to care as Tarzan's tongue fucks you. Instead, you find yourself humping his face, his mouth following as you approach your high.
You squeal as you come, clamping a hand over your mouth as you finish. Warm gushes out of you, body quivering as the eager man under you happily drinks it all. Tarzan gulps and slurps until he's beginning dripping from the corners of his mouth.
He takes and takes until you're the one having to tell him no more, that you can't handle another orgasm.
Tarzan hears the desperation in your voice, the way you plead. It takes strength for him to pull away from your pussy, a soft growl emitting from his chest.
Then his thighs wrap around your head, securing you in front of his cock. You have no time to question him as you involuntarily take his cock into your mouth.
There's so much pre-cum dripping from the slit that all you can taste is its saltiness. He's throbbing, fucking his hips into your mouth as he holds you still with his legs.
All you can do is take it. Lips wrapping around his girth as he desperately slides his dick in and out. You gag and silently plead for Tarzan to be gentler, but he's having none of it. Your hands warp around his thighs to steady yourself, your head bobbing uncontrollably to match his movements.
Tarzan twitches in your mouth once, stilling his hips deep into your throat. Tears immediately prick your eyes and fall down your face, and you swear your vision goes black for a fraction of a second before he pulls out. You get the chance to gasp for air as he lines up his cock to your lips again and shoves it back in.
You think you might pass out. You're at the mercy of Tarzan, and he's still unable to see how much stronger he is than the average man. Your mouth is nothing but a fleshlight to him as he makes you choke around him. It makes you feel like a toy, a warm hole for him to fuck his seed into.
And you wouldn't have it any other way.
The familiar twitch in his cock occurs again. Once, twice, then three times before he unloads in your mouth. Hot spurts of his cum find themselves in your throat, forcing you to gulp it down.
Tarzan's hips slow, letting his cock drag against your lips before he finally pulls out. You cough and pant as his orgasm drips from your tongue.
His thighs release you and you promptly plop down on them. You feel his hands rub soothingly over the curve of your ass, up and down your thighs. And an extra apology, Tarzan presses a kiss to your throbbing pussy. You chuckle and kiss his thigh back before sitting up, hoping off his face.
You have to crawl to grab your camera, breathing a sigh of relief to see the red light still shining. You aim the lens at his face as he too sits up. You can see the arousal on his face from eating you out, his swollen lips, and messy hair.
"So," you start. "Tell me, Tarzan, did you like that?"
Tarzan's lips quirk into what you think is a smile before he looks at you directly through the camera.
"Yes."
a/n: holy fuck I dont think y'all know how hard this was. I kinda went all out for the first one so the second one was hard as hell to match lmaooo. I physically and mentally can't do a third installment. this is the final one sowwy
also I added some characters from the film! hopefully you caught that, I made Terk human, Tarzan needed a friend even if it's a fanfic
Content: OC kind of being a meany, Spooky being a little shit and a cutie, flirting if you squint, I use both his names here…I think that’s it lol
A/N: I don’t what this is I just wrote it and said fuck it. There will be a part 2, I’m just idk easing my way back in here. Title might not stick maybe I’ll come up with something better.
If you'd like to be added to a Spooky's taglist lmk
If you would like to be removed from this taglist also lmk
Every night...
Vrrrrrrrroooom!
And every day...
Vrrrrrrrroooooom!
Those inconsiderate goons revved the engines of their stupid muscle cars, blasted music through their stupid speakers and smoked their stupid joints like nobody's business. In a way, it was nobody's business. The neighbourhood was scared of them; they're Los Santos— meant to protect the community, and they do their job, but they could be such assholes.
People complained to each other about the noise that kept them awake, but no one had the guts to confront them, fearful they would metaphorically bite back. However, there was one woman who had had enough.
She stared up at the ceiling as her two-year-old daughter and her seven-year-old son tossed and turned in her bed, unable to find comfort amid the commotion outside. Her family was fairly new to Freeridge, though they had moved from another town. She wanted her son to finish the school year at his old school before transferring completely to Freeridge Elementary. It was hectic driving back and forth, but she didn't want him to lose everything all at once.
Driving him meant waking everyone up early and having them ready and out before 7:30. She was thankful for his teachers, who understood the situation. She let him catch a nap whenever he was extremely tired, but lately he's been falling asleep during their lessons, not during his usual free time. The only conclusion was all this fucking noise.
"Mommy... mommyyyy." Her son whines, pushing her side. "Yes, baby?"
"I can't sleep. My ears hurt. It's loud."
"Me tooo." Her daughter agrees. "I know just…just close your eyes, okay." That's all she could say. She sets an example by shutting her own until a loud POP, followed by a shocking "OH SHIT!" And laughter mixed in made her eyes shoot open. That's it. She can't do this anymore.
She sits up, tosses her legs off the bed and puts her feet straight into her fuzzy pink slippers. She huffs as she stomps out of the room and down the hall. "Mommy-"
"Stay in there, I will be right back."
She pries open the front door and walks over furiously. All the boys have their backs turned except for one, tall and lanky, who catches her in his peripheral vision and taps one of the men next to him to get his attention. Before he could turn around, she barked a loud, "HEY!"
One is under the hood of his car, presumably. He turns his head with a stern look, wondering who the fuck had enough balls to shout in his ear. The music is turned down, the air grows stiff, and the confidence she had developed quickly crumbles under all eyes. She swallows her pride and keeps her guard steady.
The young man straightens his posture, and she's caught off guard by how tall and broad he is, covered in tattoos, biceps larger than the circumference of her head. He scoffs and cockily asks, "Can I help you?"
She was in no mood for his smart-ass tone.
"Yeah, you can, turn the music down."
The group of men laughed. Who was she to tell them how loudly and how long they could play their music? He shrugs. "Sounds like a you problem, mami."
She could feel her eye twitch; she was about to make it his problem. "Listen, pendejo-"
"Oh."
"Some of us have jobs, yeah? Some of us have KIDS that haven't slept properly in days and are fucking falling asleep in class. You keep everyone up with your fucking stupid cars, go do this shit somewhere else, and if I have to come out here again, it won't be a conversation." Her nostrils flared, and he could see nothing but pure anger in her beautiful brown eyes. She turns hot on her heels, leaving him and his buddies in the dust, but not for long because he is right on her tail.
"Hold on, espera… espera, mami."
She snaps, "Don't call me that."
He puts his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm sorry, we'll keep it down, okay? Didn't mean to upset you."
"Fine. Thanks."
He smirks. "Let me make it up to you. There's a new burger joint in town, and I heard it's good. We could catch a meal. Can I get your number?"
She rolls her eyes. "Listen, Mister..."
"Spooky."
"Spooky... right, well. I don't date. I'm not interested in it: you see a beautiful woman, you take her out, and you have a good time for a couple of days... a week or two, and then you find out she's got two kids, right? Now there are no phone calls, no texts, and no more dates. So spare me with that shit. Have a good night."
And with that, she makes her way back inside and slams the door, leaving him dumbfounded and in awe. Spooky tilts his head with interest and slight hope that she will yell at him again.
— —
There was a huge difference in the neighbourhood; the Santos still made a few noises but were quickly reminded by Spooky of the complaint his neighbour had made. He wanted to keep the peace in the area.
As the days passed, he caught a few glimpses of her—leaving the house to drop off her son and pick him up, she'd push her daughter around in her stroller for a bit of fresh air. He noticed the smile on her face as she talked to her daughter, and she seemed to respond, but the moment she had to pass the trap house, her smile dropped into a frown, and her eyes stayed straight as she ignored him and his crew.
All Spooky could do was watch the way her hips swayed, the way her lips poked out from her side profile, and she always had her locs up in a bun, and always some shade of green in her outfits and accessories; she didn't wear anything without her gold bangles, and heart-shaped long drop earrings. Those must be her favourites.
"Look at this fool," His boys would tease. "Man got yelled at once and fell in love."
He'd suck his teeth and tell them to fuck off, but they were right. She had his heart pumping that night; she looked so pretty when she was mad, and he had never really had a woman rip him a new one the way she did. He loved her attitude.
— —
On another hot day in Freeridge, the boys were outside with their speakers and music playing, beers and blunts being passed around, and Spooky under the hood of his car once again— always modifying something in there
Across the street, a little boy and a girl were outside on the front lawn playing while their mom watched. He was gently kicking the soccer ball to his sister so as not to hit her too hard accidentally. Mom had announced she'd be back, having to check on their lunch and to continue playing carefully with his sister. Once mom was gone, the little boy upped the ante. He loved playing soccer, and he was the best on his little league team, so he decided to entertain his sister with a few tricks, which were well received as she praised him with giggles and clapping.
Spooky hears the cute laughter and turns his head to watch. He, too, is impressed by the boy's moves and straightens up in shock. He watches on as he tosses, kicks and balances the ball. He finally sets it down on the grass and kicks it as hard as he can until it flies across the road and right into the Santos yard. The young boy freezes with slight fear; all the men look intimidating to him, scary and mean. He doesn't bother asking for his ball back; instead, he picks up his little sister with the intention of going back inside, but Spooky shook his head and ran over to the ball.
With the ball in his hands, he makes his way over to the boy, seemingly still in fright and no sign of mom coming out soon. Spooky puts the ball down and gently kicks it over.
"Thank you." He says, putting his sister down on the steps of their porch. "No problem, man. You're really good. I was watching over there. You play?"
The young boy knows his mom's rules: never talk to strangers, but... he loved to talk about soccer to anyone who would listen. So...
"Yeah, I-I play, after school, with the school team."
Spooky smiles. "Nice. How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was four. My dad got me into it, but he passed when I was like five and my mom was pregnant with my sister."
His face softened at the impulsive confession. "I wanted to quit, but my mom made me play one game, and if I didn't feel better after that, she'd let me quit."
And she's a woman who doesn't give up easily; he might like her even more. Spooky asked, "How'd you feel after the game?"
The boy couldn't help but smile broadly as he reminisced. "I shot the winning goal, and I felt so cool. So I didn't quit."
"That's why you always listen to mommy, right?"
The boy giggles and nods his head in agreement.
"Lucas, come lunch is... ready..." She announces, her face drops, and her eyes roll dramatically, which causes Spooky's smile to spread wider. "Come on, Lily, let's go." She says, reaching for her daughter's hand. Her eyes widen at Lucas as a warning, and he nods before turning back to Spooky.
"Thanks again, Mr..."
"Oscar. Just Oscar.
"Thanks, Oscar."
His mom stood in the door frame with a slightly softer look on her face until he winked at her, and the frown came back with a door slam to the face. Spooky liked this game, and he wasn't going to stop until he won.
— —
"Can I have a honey bun?" Lucas asked as he held his sister's hand while the family walked through the corner store, eyes glazed over at all the snacks and sweets. She playfully rolls her eyes. "Fine... get two." She would have one herself later on. "Yesss."
He leaves Lily with their mom and runs off to the other aisle for the honey buns, only to accidentally bump into someone without paying much attention. "Oh, sorry."
The person turns around, and the small fear in his body leaves when he sees that it's just Oscar.
"Hey man, what's up?"
Lucas shrugs, "Nothing, just getting some snacks."
Oscar's eyebrows knit together. "By yourself?"
"No, mommy is in the other aisle."
Interesting.
Oscar reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and he pulls out twenty bucks, handing it over to Lucas with a smirk. "Get anything you want." Lucas' eyes grew wide. With twenty dollars all to himself, he felt like the richest boy around. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, my treat."
"Thanks so much.
"No problem, I'll see you around."
She taps her foot as she patiently waits for Lucas to return, but when he does, she can barely see him under the mountain of snacks he holds in his two little hands. She giggles a bit and shakes her head. "Now, how did two honeybuns turn into this?"
"Oscar gave me twenty bucks."
"Excuse me?"
"I met him in the aisle, and he gave me twenty, saying I could get what I wanted. So, I got stuff for all of us."
She found herself torn; she couldn’t tell her kid no, and giving the money back would break his little heart. She told him to put his snacks in the basket and to watch his little sister so that she could thank Oscar. However, she was about to do the complete opposite. She made her way over to the next aisle, hoping he’d be there, and thankfully, he still was.
She didn’t have time for a hi, or hello, she just got straight into it:
“Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t get to me, so you decide to what? Bribe my kid?”
He smiled. “Who said I wanted to get to you, Violet?”
She stood there, stunned, taken aback. “How…”
“Kid loves to talk.” Oscar shrugged. Violet couldn’t help but bite back a smile. “And I’m not trying to get to you through him, you know… I’m not a weirdo. If I want you… I know how to get you myself.”
“Just… watch yourself, Oscar.” She bit.
For once, she didn’t hold any hostility in her voice, and Oscar couldn’t help but notice the switch in her hips as she walked away from him, something he could watch all day.
He chuckled to himself, she’ll come around.
One day.
If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. Reposts and comments and very appreciated.
silly clark can't help but have thoughts of breeding you full and starting a family with you
Warnings: breeding kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, and mention of size difference
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭, who can't help but imagine how cute your babies would be. He knew it was stupid to think so far into the future when you've only been dating for a couple of months. But he can't help it. Not when you're so attentive to your niece.
The fixation on starting a family became way more obsessive than he is proud to admit. The thoughts consumed his mind almost 24/7, and as perverted as he felt, he couldn't fight the need to stroke his cock at the fantasies. I mean, can you blame him? It's a Kryptonian purpose to breed your mate. So, late at night when Clark had nothing but time to think, his thoughts started to wander.
The way your body would change physically has the blood flowing to his cock. How you'll gain weight, filling out your hips and ass even more. How cute your stomach would look filled with his babies. Cheeks and lips would swell. His favorite change of all would be how the size and weight of your breast would increase.
They'll fill with sweet milk, weigh down, feeling swollen almost all the time. And like the good husband Clark would be (he wouldn't dare get you pregnant before marriage), he will take it upon himself to relieve the pressure. Large hands massaging the tender and heavy tits, watching absentmindedly while white droplets fall from the sensitive nipples.
His hand trailed down his chiseled body, gripping the hardened cock. Lip bitten raw as he thinks of how you'll groan from relief when his pink tongue licks up the fallen milk and how he'll softly suck the nipple into his mouth. And when the milk finally gushes into his mouth, the harsh moans would force their way out of his body, causing his lustful eyes to roll back. His hand will find its way between your legs, spreading the wetness while his manhood rubs against your plush thighs.
Head tossing against the pillow once the constrictions of his boxers release his hard on. Pre cum dripping onto his toned stomach, Clark moans, brushing his finger gently along the base following the pulsating vein. Hand wrapping around the heaviness, pumping himself slowly to restrain himself against the need to cum so soon.
The process of getting you pregnant wouldn't take too long with the loads that come out of Clark. He would stuff your pussy full every night, probably more than once a day if you'd allow. Thick cock would stretch your tight hole, fighting to keep him in. He'll fight the urge not to pound you recklessly, but hearing your whimpers would only cause him to lose any self control.
Forcing your body to contort with your ankles practically touching your head, his huge body weighing you down. Pelvis rolling on yours, making sure he reaches deep inside you. Angry tip pounding hard into your spot, making you wail out at every movement. Nails scratching down his back, begging him to fill you up.
And when he finally releases inside of you, it's a lot. Thick white cum painting your clenching walls in long spurts. He cums for what feels like a minute or two, holding the position tightly. Cum spilling out of your sloppy pussy as he tries to fuck it back in. When he feels like he's done enough, he'll hold you tight, cock still stuffed inside your pussy, making sure you take his seed.
I can’t get best friend Clark out of my mind. He’d be the best friend ever; always helps move you between home and college and apartments, remembers your allergies, picks you up if you call him after too many drinks.
Best friend Clark who is more than a best friend, because you always end up sleeping at his place in his shirt and panties and that’s it. You’re tangled up in his sheets and his arms, half across him. Clark has a tight hold on you, one arm firmly around your waist and a hand on your ass. Sleepovers didn’t stop when you reached 12.
Best friend Clark who, when you both were ready, gladly took your virginity and let you take his. You learned everything, from ABCs to calculus, together with Clark. This is just another one of those things.
Best friend Clark who won’t fuck you when you’re drunk (“you can’t consent while drunk baby”), but he’ll let you rut against his thigh until you’re satisfied and then in the morning get you aspirin and water and cook you breakfast. And then he’d fuck you into his sheets because how dare you wear that skirt when you know it’s his favorite?
Best friend Clark who’ll help you move into your apartment or move furniture, but afterwards he needs to shower because he’s so gross. And so you both hop into the shower. It’s fine, you’ve been bathing together since babies of course. But now Clark’s feeling every lush curve of your body, and he’s sucked hickies onto your neck. Your lips are slotted together, and now he’s fucking your pussy raw until your moans bounce off the shower walls and you can barely stand.
Best friend Clark, who’s more than your best friend. But you two won’t define it beyond that, because how can someone define something so vast? He’s your Clark.
Giving sheltered farmboy!Clark his first pussy portal would make him nearly faint.
He’d nearly dropped it when you gave it to him for your one year anniversary, shocked you’d just hand it over dinner like it was a card instead of… well… that. Clark wouldn’t get the appeal. The entirety of you was much better than just your pussy. Clark liked seeing your face twisted in pleasure, watching your breasts bounce with each thrust. But one day, when you’ve gone home to family across the country for the week, he break. He couldn’t get enough time off work to go with, so he mopes around the bullpen and pouts into your pillow at night. By the fourth night he’s desperate. Clark roots through your nightstand for the little disc. It’s smooth plastic, with a twist off lid too similar to a pill bottle’s. You even had it customized with the exact blue of his Superman suit.
Clark guiltily opens the top. He half expects and hopes there’ll be nothing inside; you have to wear the panties to activate it. You probably wouldn’t risk it around your family. But instead of a blank nothingness, your pussy is inside. It’s just as he remembers, all plump folds and your pretty skin and clit. He can even smell you. Clark feels dizzy at how quickly his blood rushes down.
“Gosh…” Clark whispers. He rubs a hand down his face. He shouldn’t. This is the epitome of objectifying women, his woman, his pretty girl. He couldn’t. Clark was a gentleman. He had to respect you.
But, you’d gifted this to him. You wanted him to fuck you, to use you. You were even wearing the panties. In fact, if he didn’t use it, you’d be sad and unsatisfied. With a little groan, Clark brings it up to his mouth.
A thousand miles away, you’re out shopping at your hometown mall. You’d needed time alone from your family, and had to buy more panties. For once you’d forgotten to pack more panties and now you were wearing the pussy portal panties while you scurried around.
Suddenly, you felt a soft wetness. You have to stifle back a moan as it licks, from your now-twitching hole up to your sensitive clit.
“He’s using it-“ You think dazedly, stumbling to the nearest bathroom. Clark loses his shyness, quickly increasing his speed and firmness. His tongue swirls around your iclit just enough to make your legs weak. You make it inside just in time, just as Clark’s tongue pushes your folds apart and slips inside your hole.
You have to bite your hand as Clark’s tongue assaults your unsuspecting pussy. He’s too good, wet tongue fucking you open and lips smacking against your folds. A cross-continental kiss that has you leaning against the wall. You can even feel his nose nudging close to your clit, and his fingers slipping in. Your orgasm crests, and you sob into your hand at the force of it, at how dirty it feels to come inside a mall bathroom a thousand miles away.
Clark withdraws, and you think he’s done. But just as soon as you shakily stand, you feel him probe it gently with the blunt tip of his cock. A gasp rips from your throat as Clark pushes in. Your hole tighten, but Clark gently rubs at your clit. Slick dribbles out, just enough to guide his entry.
As Clark bottoms out, you twitch, falling on top of the toilet seat. He’s squirting precum, nudging your cervix with each twitch. Then Clark begins to thrust, hard and firm. A strangled moan escapes your throat before you can catch it. Four days without him, without sex, had made you tighten up. He felt even bigger and wider, the satisfying burn clouding your vision. Each thrust rubs perfectly against your walls, his thumb pressing onto your clit in perfect circles. You can feel every vein. It’s almost too much. The idea of Clark using you like a fucktoy, chasing his own pleasure… your cunt slicks up even more, squirting little bits of slick.
Your hand drifts down to your lower stomach, feeling the small curve of his cock through your belly. He was right there, yet you couldn’t hear him. You had to focus on just his cock, slamming into you again and again. Your walls flutter desperately as your orgasm comes rushing over you, gripping him tightly. You can almost hear Clark’s whimper as he comes. His cock jumps once more, and suddenly you’re flooded with his hot cum, each pulse sending more and more. The pressure, the twitching, everything has your sense going haywire.
He stays inside, letting himself grow soft. Your hands fumble for your phone.
“Hi baby.” Clark pants into his phone, the portal pussy still snug around him.
“I’m at the mall, you caveman.” You mumble tiredly.
Clark yanks himself out. “Oh god-“
“Stay on the line. I gotta clean myself up and get home, and then we can keep going.”
summary: stuck with royal duties all day, peter and y/n eventually need a break to have... some adult fun.
word count: 1,5k
warnings: sexual content, porn without plot, breast play, p in v.
a/n: wrote this one really quickly, surprisingly, and it's here mostly so i don't disappear again because of uni.
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡
⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests: open⌟
The two of you had been analyzing files, signing papers, doing the heavy (boring) duties of a royal side by side for hours now. The tiredness slowly catching up, but still concentrated on the task at hand. Or so were you, not him.
With light touches, you felt Peter’s fingers brush the hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Focus on the task at hand, Peter.” you warned him kindly, knowing even your focus couldn’t last this long.
“But it is so hard,” he said, hand placed carefully around your neck, his fingers coming to play with the hairs at its nape, and his lips leaving soft kisses on your skin. “Especially when such a pretty lady is standing right next to you.”
Bobbing your head to the side instinctively, you allowed him access to more space. His lips lingered all over, teeth biting and leaving behind marks he adored to paint you with, marking you as his own. You let out a deep, long sigh, his touch enough to leave you inebriated.
His free hand fell on your lap, trying to pull your skirt up, desperate to touch the warm skin of your legs. However, a quiet screeching noise took your focus away from him. You took his hand on yours, away from your legs, and laced your fingers, moving your head to stare him deep into his eyes.
He lingered there for a while, too drunk on you to be able to react too quickly, too immersed in your eyes to pay attention to anyone else. Getting closer to you again, you felt his breath hitting your neck before giving you another bite, stronger than the ones before, full mouth meeting your skin, dragging a long, drawn out moan out of your throat.
”Close the door behind you,” he ordered, looking at the guard standing in his office, just some feet away from you, from behind your head. “And tell your comrades they don’t need to stay too close.”
Watching the guard leave from the corner of your eyes, awkwardly and in a rush, you couldn’t help the smirk from spreading on your face as you felt Peter’s tongue touch the same spot he’d bitten just before, full on making out with your neck now.
“Better?” he asked, moving your chin so you could face him again. Now you, too drunk on him, could only reply with a simple nod of your head. “Great.”
The hand that once rested on your lap, and was then tangled with yours, freed itself from your hold and pulled at your cleavage, exposing one of your breasts that was soon covered by your husband’s lips.
Peter’s tongue flickered and toyed with your hardening nipple, his mouth spreading wilder to fit almost your entire tit inside of it. He sucked on hard, deep, while his tongue still tortured your reddish, sensitive nipple.
You were sure you could’ve come just from it, but perhaps knowing you way too well, your husband stopped right before your high could’ve been reached, climbing up your chest with kisses until his lips touched yours for a long deserved, passionate kiss.
“Come here.” he demanded, breaking away from your lips and pulling at your waist. Obliging, you sat on his lap, pulling your skirt up so your wet underwear met the hard bulge tightening his pants, resting your knee on his sides as his hands slid under your dress and you started to ride him while you were both still fully clothed. “Calm down, Yn…”
He tried, but your movements didn’t stop, and you crashed your lips together to shut him up, tongues fighting in a rushed, wet, desperate battle for control, neither wanting to give in. His hands slid up your tights, nails scratching along the way, taking a hold of the hem of your underwear, a hand on each side, pulling away ripping it apart, and without wasting a single beat, he threw it away to the other side of the room.
With the speed in which the underwear was pulled from your made the soak fabric rub rashly at your clit and leave behind a painful yet arousing sensation, only turning you on even more. Now, your sticky honey left a puddle on his pants, and you could feel his thick cock way better than before, as he too was now grinding rapidly against you.
The sensation, making your head spin and your legs tremble, stopped you from noticing his hands untying his pants, pulling it down while holding you up just enough for his cock to break free, hitting against your belly as you continued to grind on his tight. You also didn’t notice him rubbing himself up and down his length, movements conveniently hidden under your skirt, as you were too involved in your little tongue dance, sucking on his and trying to assert dominance. It was out of nowhere that you felt his cock entering you without care, stretching you out, feeling like you were ripping apart just like your underwear did.
“P-pete!” You screamed as you tried to adjust to his size, years together and still not used to it. But Peter was also impatient, the long hours of work boring you two to no end, leading to a desperate need for ecstasy and release.
He thrusted hard into you, as you tried to meet him halfway, bouncing up and down his length. At this point, he had already untied the laces of your dress and ripping open the remaining bits, fully exposing your breast as they bounced up and down with your movements.
He pulled you towards him by the hips, closing every inch of space between you two as he tug on your arms, setting them over his shoulders and you wrapped them around his neck , all the while his own strong arms embraced you by your waist, trapping you against his own bare chest.
Your movements were never ceasing, never slowing down. Quite the opposite, actually, as the sound of skin hitting against skin only got louder, your own screams following, and the chair beneath you cracked, trembled, threatening to break with every one of his thrusts.
All day you were unaware of how much you’d desired, of how much you needed your husband inside of you, touching you, adoring you. You were too busy to focus on that, but you kept secretly always thinking about it.
When the tips of his fingers graced over the papers, following along the lines he read, the maps he analyzed, making you wish it was your skin he was playing with. When he bit his bottom lip when concentrating, every time he found a word he couldn’t understand, mistranslated or misplaced, or a topic that left him wondering, how you wish it was your lips he was biting instead.
When his hands rested on your back whenever he called you over, pulling you to his side asking for assistance, and his fingertips lingered on the side of your breasts, how you wished they were wrapped on them instead, playing with them bare.
You were hungry for him all day and only now realized. The ongoing sway of your hips a testament to this truth. Bodies all sweaty, dripping, clothes gluing to each other’s skins. Your naked chest, your hard nipples rubbing against the warmth of his own sweat soaked chest.
A knot forming on your stomach announced the coming of your high, as you begged your husband to “Please, baby, cum with me.”
With your request, you felt his load shooting up inside you soon after, filling you up with his thick seed, your husband a whimpering, moaning mess underneath you, his sound alone enough to bring you to your climax as well, your own release mixing with his inside your aching walls.
As you both try to ride down your highs, you lay on his chest, head resting on his shoulder, both breathless, messy and numb from all the pleasure. He held your chin, leaving peck all the way up till he felt the touch of your plump lips, giving you little kisses as he waited for you to recompose, pride blooming high inside of him, glad it was him and no one else making you feel this way.
There was, perhaps, nothing Peter loved more than watching you getting drunk on his dick, getting dumb on his touch, head completely empty from anything else. Your post sex glow his favorite version of you.
“Should we move to our chambers?” he whispered, not wanting to startle you, who still rested, with your eyes closed, on his shoulder.
Looking at him through long lashes, his dirty smirk adorning his well crafted lips, you found yourself obsessed with him all over again, just like every time he fucks you senseless. Obsessed with him just like the day you met, and the day you stood on the altar, and every single day after that and for the rest of your entire life, so you wished.
Kissing his cheeks over and over, you take a look around the otherwise empty office, made warm by the fire burning in your fireplace, darkned by the lack candles, and now filled with the smell of sex.
“We have plenty of space here.” you told him, meeting his lips once again, royal business forgotten.
“and i guess it's just the woman in you / that brings out the man in me…”
clark kent x fem!chubby!reader
18+ mdni
original ask <3
summary: you’re finally ready for your first time, and clark is just about prepared to move heaven and earth over it.
word count: 6.8k
contains: smut & fluff. mentions of religious guilt/some religious humor. first time trope. *fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, protected sex. clark softdoms so hard i almost had to stop writing. reader is a bit innocent and very nervous, carries some slight religious shame around sex and only knows the basics, but clarkie is with the times… perv. clark is touchy, a whiner, and a shithead who thinks he’s funny. teasing, praise, use of the pet name bunny (guilty pleasure so sorry), lots of consent/talking/taking care of reader. year is canonically 2006 and clark and reader are in college. *no use of y/n
a/n: This is not my fantasy (she says, red in the face.) enjoy this tooth-rot, @argentinemango!
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Clark had been falling at your feet for months in his head. Of course, he was quite respectful about it– he didn’t know another way to be. But truthfully, he was just dying. He desperately wanted to touch you.
It was slightly perverted, but not on purpose. He was just… enthralled.
When it finally got through your pretty, doubt-prone skull that Clark Kent actually did have feelings for you, every move you made was calculated to monitor the progress of those feelings and track their intensity, so you could best discern how the trajectory of the relationship was going and and at which points new boundaries should be broken. And it was torture. Where you felt like dating was a rulebook, Clark saw it as an open canvas. He just wanted to let whatever happened happen, but he happily compromised for you.
He found you at MetU. He was visiting Chloe and Lana on a weekend, and before he even made it into the building, he tripped over a backpack on the ground beside a bench. Your backpack. As he knelt down to gather up your books and commit a blitz of apologies, he locked eyes with you– looking gorgeously pissed off. Plump cheeks, round hips, tummy stretching the soft cashmere of your sweater. Jeans with rhinestones up the leg. A little military-style cap that was annoyingly artsy and popular for the unusual year of 2006. Your eyes were hooded as they glared down at him, and your pretty blue nails brushed his palm as he handed you your books back.
“Hi,” he smiled stupidly.
“Don’t ‘hi’ me! You got mud on my textbook!”
Clark knelt back on his heels and grinned at you, titling his head as he studied the paper brick. “American Modernists? You’re better off.”
You crossed your arms, but a tiny grin began to betray you. “I happen to like the Modernists, thank you very much.”
“You look like you would,” he chuckled, and he finally stood up. Tall. My God, tall… broad shoulders, mop-hair, the most blue-green in an iris you’d ever seen…
“Strangers don’t typically pick on me.”
“I’m Clark,” he held a hand out. “There. Now I’m not a stranger.”
You hesitantly reached out to shake his hand– huge, huge, huge– and muttered back with immediate yield, “Hi, Clark.”
His fingers liked yours. He blushed a bit and hoisted you up from the bench, making your book tumble to the ground again. He flashed his sharp teeth in an innocent smile and said, “You’re pretty. You wanna tell me where I can find room 314?”
You blushed harder than him, book be damned. “How about I tell you my name first?”
He swindled you into a date that night. Before you knew it, you were swept up into the romantic whirlwind that was lovesick Clark Kent.
He followed every rule for you. He’d do anything for you. He didn’t even try to kiss you until a month had passed– your cheek was fair game, your temple, maybe, but never your lips. Which made him salivate like a dog just to stare at. You had exactly eleven dates before he kissed you, and he did it like a gentleman, on the porch step of your parents’ house in Granville. Albeit, his hands wandered a bit, and you flushed so hard you forgot to breathe. He had to break the kiss just to laugh at how cute you looked, all disoriented like that.
It had been over a year. You’d been giving where you could, but you were a reserved girl. You let him sleep in your bed a few times, consequently letting him see you in pajamas. You permitted sneaking behind a bookshelf a time or two to press you up against a wall and kiss you breathless. But that was really it. He didn’t mind taking it slow, especially since he was so enraptured by the girl you were.
One of Clark’s most cherished parts of your relationship was how much you talked to him. Once you believed that he loved you, you opened up like a music box, leaving behind the tight-lipped concern to let him in.
You told him everything– about troubles with your family, your struggle with your body image, your favorite books. How much you hated church and the way your parents made you feel guilty for not going. The things you loved and hated, the reasons you adored him. All of it. You laughed like an everlasting composition. Your eyes caught the moon in a way he didn’t have the words for. When you got angry with him, you got this little dimple in your brow that he loved to nibble away. Clark knew more about you than he did about himself, and in his customary and slightly unhealthy way, all he ever thought about was you. Every other sentence had your name in it, and it made Chloe want to punch him in his perfect teeth sometimes. He just wouldn’t shut up. You possessed his every thought.
You’d gotten quite physical once he broke your barriers; you loved to cuddle, you loved to let him kiss you until words stopped forming, but the second his hands began to roam… you’d stop. You’d wriggle free and mutter sorries until he promised you it was okay. And it really was. He would never force you into anything. But God, sometimes he just wished you’d let him… it was so hard to keep his hands off you. You wore these jeans that squeezed you like they were glued on when he was taking you out for dates… Jesus. And every so often you wore this dress that he bought you for your three-month anniversary, this little number that had a milkmaid neckline. That was even more dangerous. Half because he got hard just seeing you in it, and half because you looked so happy that he got your size right that he fell in love all over again.
He knew that your fears about sex were abundant; your insecurities were numberable, for one, but you were also raised so religiously that there was an underlying guilt there, even as you grew out of it in college. It seemed no amount of feminist literature could completely strip you of your virginal mindset.
So, yes. It was a little perverted. But Clark was a lover at his very core, and there seemed nothing in the world more special to him than getting to hold you, getting to make you feel beautiful, seeing that look on your face when he tells you how deeply in love he is while he–
He had to shake the image out so the blood stayed rushing to his face and not somewhere else as you laid your head in his lap, watching the old box television in the loft.
It was late. His mother was in D.C. these days, leaving the house mostly to himself, but he still loved his barn. So did you. You had spent hours reading the books on his shelves, leaving little notes in the margin for him to find someday when he picked them up again. On nights like this, when winter wasn’t yet spring but it was tepid enough to let the barn latch fly open, you two would laze on his couch and wait until sleep hit you.
Clark pet his fingertips over the roots of your hair, tracing the jagged line. You seemed a bit tense, eyes wide awake and trained exceptionally hard on the television. In fact, you’d been a bit strange all day since you got here. Spring break was coming to a close, so he thought perhaps you were having habitual anxiety about returning to routine. But when he tried to kiss you earlier, you sort of… dodged it. He put his hand on your back in the kitchen and you shivered. There was something in him, laying deep beside his sexual frustration, that felt a whole lot like guilt. Maybe you could tell how badly he wanted to sleep with you and he’d turned you off of him completely. He hoped to God that wasn’t true.
As he traced your hair, he muttered, “You’re awfully quiet, baby.”
You just grunted in affirmation. “Mm…”
“Is everything okay?”
Your voice caught a bit as you nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”
You were, in fact, not fine. Because you’d been having dreams about sex with Clark every night for two weeks.
It wasn’t your intention. You were sort of… wound up, after a date you’d had, and it just took hold of you.
He took you to the Smallville Drive-In to of course do anything but watch a movie, and as he smushed you against the seat of the truck cab and kissed you, his hand did this… thing. Nothing crazy. He just took his palm– that big, warm, calloused paw– and he cupped it under your knee. He didn’t force you down. He didn’t ask for more. He just stroked the sensitive skin with his thumb, holding your leg, and dear Lord if that didn’t make you want to melt between the stitching of the leather.
You dreamed about him hitching that leg up that night and taking what he wanted. And every night after, it went a different way. You and him in the loft, in the truck, in his bed, in the university library. His hand, his mouth, your mouth, much more. You were waking up absolutely tortured, with aching hips and a permanent flush, and it was making you clam up. Every time he touched you, you would get a flashback to something in a dream, and you burned so hot inside that you had to pull away for fear of telling him the dirty things you were thinking about. You were sure he could read it on your face, and you were terrified that after all your prudishness that if he discovered how badly you yearned, he’d think you were a liar– or worse, that you were doing it on purpose. Stringing him out, playing a game or something. You weren’t. But it was as if a switch flipped, and the fears you had about sex were gone– all you had left was the powerful desire to have it, and have it now.
And this was Clark, wasn’t it? Clark, who worshipped you for some Godforsaken reason. Clark, who told you that you were pretty so many times that it more than supplemented anyone who had neglected to do the same. Clark, who listened to your every problem, who protected you from every panic, who loved you when you couldn’t sleep, or when you fought with family, or when you had a paper due and couldn’t stay on the phone long. This was the boy who got you out of the hole which made you think love was impossible for you.
So what in the world were you doing?
“You know what? I’m actually not okay,” you muttered, sitting up slowly. You smoothed down your frizzed hair and slumped back into the couch.
Clark’s expression fell and he sat up straighter, twisting a bit to face you. His hand swallowed yours. “What is it? Is it something I did?”
“What? No!” You chuckled softly, a bit heavily. “No. No, it’s me.”
“You?” As if you simply weren’t capable of doing anything wrong, ever.
God, the look on his face was precious. So concerned. Those thick eyebrows knitting together, and his big eyes swelling with love. Lips parted just enough that you saw the sharp edge of one canine. You wanted to eat him whole.
“I…”
Clark licked his lips. For him, it was because they were dry. To you, it set off alarms in your head.
“You can tell me anything, bunny, you know that,” he cooed, lifting his other hand to brush some hair from your eyes.
Bunny. Oh, you just couldn’t take it.
“I want to have sex,” you blurted, bracing for some divine impact.
Clark blinked at you like a confused puppy, tilting his head as if deciphering a foreign language. That is, until a pretty rose wave washed over his cheeks, and you watched his adam’s apple bob. “You– you do? Like… sex sex?”
You laughed in mortification and nodded, hiding your face in your hands. “I– yeah. Yes.”
“I thought you were waiting,” he asked softly, strong fingers wrapping around your wrists to pry your hands from your glowing cheeks.
“Well, I was, but I just– I–” you struggled, chewing the inside of your cheek, “I’m done waiting now.”
Clark felt like he was getting raptured, maybe. Pulled up to Heaven on strings of love. His smile spread like butter across his face as he inquired, “What made you make up your mind?”
You swallowed nervously and avoided his eyes, instead redirecting to your lap. “Um… a dream.”
“A dream.” He quirked an eyebrow. His hand tested you by sliding up the soft curves of your side, fingertips resting where two rolls met.
“A dream. A-about you.”
“Oh, really?” He purred, and you completely shut down.
Whining in embarrassment, you turned from him and buried your face in the couch, grumbling. “Don’t torture me!”
Clark cackled and gathered your body back until he could press his chest to you, and he nuzzled your neck with his nose. “Come on, you made that so easy.”
“It’s embarrassing,” you flushed, tensing up a bit. Only when his arm wrapped around your middle and spanned your ribs did you melt.
“Nothing is embarrassing with me,” he promised, kissing the patch of skin behind your ear that made your fingers flex.
You wiggled the appendages and felt your skin burn hotter than it ever had before. “I just… I’ve been dreaming about… being with you. And– and I realized that, um…”
“That you can’t hide how horny you are anymore?”
You grumbled and tried to wriggle free. “Clark!”
“I’m just kidding! Kidding, baby,” he laughed, loosening his grip. He waited until you turned around to pout at him, and he used his thumb to play with your bottom lip. “Hey. That’s the look you gave me that day I knocked your book into the dirt.”
You saw how he smiled as if you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered, and it thawed the last of your resistance. You gave into that sheepish smile, because you were beautifully weak against it.
“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” you admitted, leaning your forehead against his.
Clark pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to be. I know how.”
You peeked a suspicious eye open at him. “Oh, do you?”
“Not like that,” he huffed, nipping your jaw. He placed a kiss, and another, and one more, down your cheek. “I just mean that I’m not worried about pleasing you.”
Your heart flipped. “Oh. Um…”
“Are you worried about pleasing me?”
Hesitantly, you nodded. You pulled back a bit to look in his eyes.
“What exactly do you think a first time should look like?” He asked.
The question was far more forthright than you expected– but truthfully, it was very Clark. He never shied from real conversations with you. Of everyone in his life that he’d kept secrets from, you were someone he never felt he had to. That trust was unbreakable.
You played with your nails to try and expend some of the jitters. “Um… like… Well, I don’t know, I haven't really… y’know.” When Clark just gave you an expectant grin, you sighed and kept trying. “All I’ve seen has been in movies. Or in books.”
“Okay. Did any of it sound appealing to you?”
You winced a bit. “This is so–”
“Baby, listen to me,” he shushed you, pressing a thumb over your mouth. The way he said it was soft, but there was an undercurrent there. Firm. Almost… dominant. Something Clark never tried to be. You listened on instinct. “This is your first time. I don’t want anything to be a surprise, or make you nervous or afraid. I want you to know what’s going to happen. I want you to want anything we do together. So we have to talk about it. If you still feel embarrassed to talk about it, maybe you still aren’t ready.”
A soft panic flooded you and you eagerly gushed, “I really want this!”
He couldn’t help the way his cheeks darkened, but he miraculously kept his cool. “Okay, okay. Then just… take a deep breath and tell me what you want.”
You drew in some air, feeling it fill your lungs, and you knew that you just needed a little help. You threaded your fingers through his and murmured, “Can you just kiss me first? Please?”
Clark never needed to be asked. He leaned in happily, slotting his lips against yours nice and slow, and he could feel the kiss sucking your anxiety right out through your mouth. When he departed, he managed to distill your thoughts to only desire.
Against his lips, you divulged, “I don’t really know the terminology for it. I’m gonna sound like an old lady.”
Clark snickered and sat back, tugging you with him until you sort of collapsed across his lap. He brushed your hair back from your eyes. “I can modernize it for you, dork. Just tell me.”
“Fine,” you propped your chin on his chest. “When I dreamed about it, um… you would… y’know, sleep with me, obviously. But you usually did some… foreplay.”
You wanted to die just explaining it. He thought it was adorable.
“Hands? Mouth?”
Your pupils swelled against your wishes. “Both.”
Clark smirked. “Oh. So you just wanna lay down and let it happen to you, huh?”
With a flustered groan you hid in his chest again. “Well, I don’t know!”
He tipped his head back in warm laughter before tugging your hair gently and making you meet his eyes again. “It’s okay. You’re lucky, actually, because I would much rather give than take. Plus, a blowjob might be… a bit overwhelming for you right now. And probably wouldn’t help me last.”
You were both shocked and unsurprised at how easy it was for him to talk about this. “You think so?”
“Yeah. It might take practice, definitely some getting used to, and I’m… um…”
It was your turn to smile, albeit bashfully. “Big?”
Clark choked a bit on his next breath. “Yeah. Yeah…”
You rested your cheek on his chest and took a breath. Good news. Also terrifying news. What if you couldn’t take him? What if it hurt? What if–
“Hey,” Clark could feel your body tense. He stroked your arm and answered so astutely, you were afraid he could read minds. “I won’t hurt you, I’ll make sure you’re ready. And it’ll fit. It’s… biology. You, like, open up for it. If your body wants it. I’m pretty sure, don’t quote me.”
Oh, I definitely want it, you thought. Clark chuckled at the flash in your eyes.
“Alright, how about this, okay? We can go into the house. We’ll go to my room, I can lay you down, and… y’know, explain what I’ll do. You can tell me how you feel. And then we can go from there.”
“Okay.”
Clark kissed between your brow. “Don’t be nervous. It’s me, baby. I love you. I want you to be happy.”
“I know,” you hummed, finally giving up the first unrestrained grin all night.
“There she is,” he praised. Then, without any warning, he hoisted you up off the couch.
You yelped a bit and wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging like a limpet. “Hey!”
“Don’t start,” he prompted, nipping your cheek, “You’re not lifting another finger for the rest of the night.”
That shut you up.
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Clark flopped you down on his old gingham bedsheets and crawled over you, settling his weight between your legs. He grinned at you like a puppy and kissed your stomach. You were red as a rose, but you were smiling. Less afraid. That was all he cared about.
“Okay, blushy. Time for the talk.”
“Okay,” you ruffled his hair, coaxing your fingers through it playfully.
Clark crawled up your body until he was close enough to nudge your cheek, and he anchored himself on his forearms above you. “Let’s get some formalities out of the way, because I know you, and I know these thoughts are seconds away. First, I don’t care if you haven’t shaved anywhere. Won’t bother me. I also don’t care if you haven’t showered, because currently you smell delicious, and you’re very clean, so–”
“Clark,” you giggled.
“What? I mean it! Oh, and I also don’t want you to think you can’t make noise or move, I definitely want you to do whatever comes naturally, do not hold back–”
“Clark!” You covered your face.
He laughed and shoved your hands away, kissing you softly. “What did I say, huh? If you couldn’t talk about it…?”
“I’m ready, I’m ready, I swear,” you smiled, “You just… fluster me.”
“Clearly.”
“Any other rules?”
“No. I think we can get down to business.”
You watched as he smoothed his palms down your thighs and up to your hips again, pushing his thumbs against your pudgy hipbones. You felt your stomach give a churn as he massaged the skin.
“This is gonna be about you. I’ll warm you up first. I’ll finger you and let you get used to that,” he watched how your cheeks nearly throbbed with blood flow, looking so flustered it was picture-worthy, and then he continued. “And when you’re ready, I’ll eat you out.”
Hearing him say things like that made part of you want to curl up from how dirty it sounded, but that part was completely mowed down by the rest of you, which found it brutally hot.
“That’s when you…?”
“Use my mouth,” he smirked. “Jeez, you really are uneducated.”
“Shut up. They didn’t teach us that part in sex ed, and they certainly don’t call it that in the books.”
“That’s because those Fabio books you read are from forever ago.”
“I like them!”
“They’re for old ladies,”
“The guys are really good, though. And the women… like this stuff, without shame. The books make it sound good. Easy.”
“Well, you’re gonna like this,” he promised with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You shoved his face playfully, watching him teeth at your thumb. “Be nice to me. I’m about to take your virginity.”
“I know.”
Clark nips your nose and concludes, “After all that, we’ll do the whole penetration thing.”
With a shaky breath, you tried to remember procedure. “Do you have stuff for that?”
Clark rolls his eyes playfully and clambers off of you to tug open his bedside drawer. He pulls out a trail of foil and picks up a little bottle, but one look at it prompts him to say, “We probably won’t need this.”
“Why?” you chewed the inside of your cheek.
“Because, baby,” he purred, settling in beside you and tipping your head in his direction, “I don’t think you’re going to have much trouble getting wet.”
Your lashes fluttered a bit, and by the near-uncomfortable heat between your legs, you knew he was right.
Clark pecked your chin, and then he pinched your cheek. “One more time for me, honey. Do you want to have sex?”
The answer came easy now. “Definitely.”
The soft enthusiasm in your voice made his heart thump, and he surged forward to kiss you as thanks. You found you didn’t need to try and turn your brain off as his hands mapped your back and sides, it just happened this time. That was proof enough that the time was right.
Clark tugged you by your hips until you were flat on your back and he climbed on top of you, kissing you into the mattress. His knee snuck between your legs as you arched up a bit to loop your arms around his neck, tugging him down until you felt all two hundred and twenty pounds of boyfriend on top of you.
“Someone’s eager,” he teased, mouth taking a detour down your neck.
“Shut up,” you rebutted.
“Never. I’m gonna talk you through it,” he grinned against the slope of your skin, “I’m the talker, anyway.”
“That you are,”
“And you’re gonna use your words for me, aren’t you, baby?”
Your body buzzed. There was that tone again. Commanding and considerate in the same breath.
“Answer me,” he nibbled behind your ear.
“Yes,” you complied.
“Good girl. Not so hard, now was it?”
Oh, God. That was going to be the part of this that did you in, wasn’t it?
Clark was graciously taking his time, and it made you want to explode. He carefully mouthed down your collarbone and left arm, and you thought you might have to tell him to speed it up before you felt a paw pushing your shirt up to reveal your tummy. He lifted his head and raked his eyes over the valley of flesh, supple and soft, and he glanced up at you with the closest thing to a predatory look in his eyes as Clark Kent was capable of.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he grumbled, before bending back down to attack your body with kisses and nips.
You squeaked a bit and laughed as he pinned you down, kissing up your torso until his head snuck under your shirt and disappeared. Your breath hitched as you felt warm presses over the swell of your breasts, and Clark’s hands coming up to cup the cotton of your bra.
“Clark,” you said aimlessly, and you suddenly had the burning urge to rip your shirt off.
Clark nuzzled the dip between your breasts and breathed you in, mumbling into the skin, “Sit up.”
You followed orders, and up he came with you. He made no hurry to lift your shirt over your head, and he laughed a little when it tangled over your wrists. He kissed your embarrassment away and let his hand wander to the clasp around your back.
“How naked do you want to be?” He panted, pulling back.
You smiled at his care, and you shrugged. “I’ll take it all off if you will.”
“Mm, you wanna ogle me, is that it?”
You giggled at his teasing and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Please?”
“And she begs,” he grumbled, yanking his tee off in one fell swoop before knocking you onto your back again. “That’ll be useful later.”
You felt a rush of heat wrack your body as he started to fuss with your jean button. He wasn’t shaking, he was sure. He was talking so smoothly. This was definitely, definitely better than the dreams.
“I always loved these jeans,” he grunted as he tugged them down your thighs, “But they definitely look best off.”
“You’re bad,” you grinned.
“The opposite, actually. I plan to be very, very good.”
You sucked in a sharp breath as he tugged your panties down with your jeans, leaving nothing to chance. The air conditioning rolled over you as he bared you completely, and you watched how he paused for a second, just to stare.
You felt a small fear begin to grow, but he stamped it out. “God, look at you… Jesus Christ.”
You didn’t know what to do with your hands as he fumbled with his own jeans– this time shaking, but with something excited. You got a peek of his boxers– just black, but they were the tight kind, and you kind of wanted to make him sit there so you could stare at how they hugged the skin of his hips for hours. He pulled them off, though, and then your hands stilled on the bed.
Clark saw the way your eyes immediately dropped, and he stifled a laugh. “I wasn’t trying to be cocky before.”
“My bad,” you muttered blankly, unable to tear your eyes off the look of him. Pink like the lipstick in your purse that was somewhere in his barn and bouncing a bit in anticipation.
Clark was getting a bit embarrassed himself, so he fell forward onto his forearms again and he pressed a much gentler kiss to your lips, taking a minute to trace the seam of them with his tongue and coax you open. Your jaw widened in his palm, he felt the shifting bone. He smiled and breathed in the smell of your makeup, the foundation that had a rose-powder tinge to it.
“I’m gonna touch you, okay, baby?”
You nodded eagerly, mind already reeling with what it could possibly feel like. To your dual delight and expectation, it just felt like fingers. For a moment. Just fingers, warm and a bit rough, brushing over the lips between your hips. It was like a tickle. But then you felt two fingertips breach the surface and drag through the slickness there, bottom to top, and they notched under the hood of your heat to press quite confidently against that bundle of nerves men notoriously struggle to find. Not Clark, apparently.
You gasped and shivered, back shifting. You heard Clark groan, and he mumbled into your shoulder, “Oh my God. You’re so warm.”
Your knees jerked as he drew a circle with his fingers, and he soothed your side with his free hand, lifting up and leaning over you. He watched the way your lips parted as he found a slow rhythm, how your eyebrows tilted so pretty, and he smiled. “Feels okay?”
You struggled to spit out, “Yeah…”
“Good,” he beamed, and he pressed a little harder, rolling your clit between two fingers. As an involuntary moan slipped past your teeth, his eyelids drooped with want. “Oh, there she is… don’t get shy, let it out.”
You squirmed, knees drawing up and flattening out every few seconds. He didn’t restrain you, he only followed your movements so that his fingers never broke contact with you. “Jeez– oh, gosh, Clark!”
“Gosh?” He teased, stroking you frustratingly slow.
“Don’t m-make fun of me right now,” you panted, hips bucking a bit, “Oh, God.”
“You’re doing good. You look so pretty.”
You gnawed on your lip and fisted your fingers in the sheets, trying to hold onto something. Your breath grew short as a buzzing heat built in your gut, and Clark seemed to sense it, so he drew his fingers back. When you whimpered, he kissed your chest. “Shh… you weren’t gonna last, bunny, I’m trying to make it last.” Obviously not long enough, though, because he quickly directed his attention to your entrance, tracing the spot curiously.
“Oh, please!” you pouted, accidentally pulling a corner of his fitted sheet free from the mattress.
“My God, somebody’s strong.”
“Shut up!”
Clark laughed and pressed smooches in a line down to your belly button. “Can I put my finger in?”
“Y-yes, I said please!”
“You did. Good job.”
You let out a pathetic breath as Clark pressed his middle finger inside you, dragging it back out again to feel the way your walls shifted and clenched. He grunted hungrily and started belaboring your hip with kisses before plunging it in again and curling it.
“Jesus!” You exclaimed, hips twitching and toes curling. You could thank the big guy now, since He clearly led you to the one man with fingers long enough to brush your g-spot on the first try.
“Feel that? Right there?” Clark came up for air, and he prodded the spongy bit inside you with a grin.
“Oh– mm-hmm,”
“Told you I knew what would feel good.”
“Mhm…”
“Man, they aren’t joking when they say that church girls are freaks–”
“Mmf- Clark, please…”
Clark watched you for a second as he thrust his fingers diligently between your folds, seeing exactly how much made your face and nose twitch. He called you bunny for a reason. There were a few strokes that came with a hard clench, and he could practically hear your heart pounding, so he smiled and nipped your hip. “I gotta ask you something, lovie, and I need you to answer. Can you answer?”
“Wh…hm?” You whimpered, the pleasure weighing your brain down.
“Use your words.”
You stammered, “I… Y-yes.”
“Good girl. I need to know now before I go too long, do you want to come now or later?”
“Huh?” You swallowed, struggling to focus.
Clark smiled a little softer and took notice, slowing his fingers to a stop. His hand intently moved up the mattress to lace fingers with you, trying to help you pay attention. He ignored your whine and restated, “Do you want to come now, or do you want to wait until I’m inside you, baby?”
“U-um…”
He couldn’t deny that he loved how hard you tried, and how preciously pathetic it was. His poor girl just needed some guidance, didn’t she? “I think you can survive two, yeah?”
You nodded eagerly. You’d do anything. Anything for more.
“Okay. Deep breaths, then.”
You were halfway through taking one before he thrust his fingers back inside of you and began a brutal pace; not rough, but not merciful. Your hand crushed his in an iron grip as lightning bolts shocked your body. “Ah!”
Clark watched intently, admiring how you fluttered around his fingers, and he swallowed a moan of his own. He pushed your thighs apart and pressed a kiss to your mound.
“Gonna–”
“Yes,” you interrupted, thighs clamping around his head.
You felt his lips curling as he drew his fingers out and flattened his tongue against your heat, sealing you with his mouth. An immediate arch of your back followed, pushing you against his face as he sucked your swelling bud like he was starving.
“Good lord, you’re sweet,” he mumbled wetly.
Your hands hesitated above his head, eager to tug but afraid to hurt, and he gazed up your body to meet your eyes. You moaned softly as he winked at you, and he pulled off to rumble, “Touch, honey, s’okay.”
You threaded your hands into his hair as he dove back in, nudging your clit with his nose and swirling his tongue inside you. If you had half a mind to think right now, you would wager this was the happiest he had ever looked.
Clark didn’t let up until your thighs were smushing his cheeks hard and you were bucking into him, crying out and biting on his shirt that was tossed near your head. Only when he knew you were on the precipice did he slow down, just to see what you would do. When he looked up, you almost looked pissed, and he laughed between your legs before pressing a third finger into your entrance and making you stretch for it, lapping at you in tandem. You barely lasted a few seconds, shaking against his face and letting out little wails into the shirt. He worked you through the orgasm, massaging your trembling thighs before unlatching his mouth and gently pulling his fingers out. He grinned as you deflated on his bed, and he wiped his slick lips with the back of his hand.
Your vision was a tiny bit fuzzy as he prowled over you and brushed his mouth to yours, tasting salty-sweet, and you mewled as he tucked his soaked fingers past your bottom lip. A flame licked inside his belly as you sucked on reflex. You always did have gum, or a pen, or at the very least, your finger in your mouth…
“Good girl,” he cooed, “Good girl. How was that, huh?”
“Good,” you purred around his fingers.
“You still up for more? You look pretty beat.”
Your eyes fluttered a bit and you kissed his knuckles, smoothing your palms up his chest. “No… I want to.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Clark’s heart pressed against his ribs as he kissed you one more time, whispering, “I love you so much.”
“Love you, too…”
He had to force himself to have patience for this, because he was about to get what he’d been dreaming of since he started dating you. He could only imagine the magnification of pleasure that would come from feeling what he did around his fingers, wrapping around his cock.
“One second, bunny.”
You laid there aching as you watched him grab a foil and tear it open, and you kind of wanted to offer to roll the condom on for him, but he was moving faster than you had the chance. Within seconds he was nestling his hips over yours, letting his length nudge your thigh, and he shuddered. Clark’s hands cradled your head.
“Tell me if it hurts,”
“Okay,” you panted.
Gently, he reached down to line himself up, and you felt the head of his cock kissing you. Like magic, your body just shivered, and as he pressed inside, you opened up like clockwork.
The two of you let out a joint sigh as he sunk into the tightness, and his face fell to your chest. “Holy…”
“Clark,” you moaned.
You were the right amount of ready for him to just bottom out, and he did. All the way. So far in that he felt your spongy muscle throbbing against him. Far enough that you were convinced he was in your stomach. He let out a little whimper and pressed his palm to your chubby middle.
“Nngh– good?”
“Fuck,” was all you could say. But that meant Yes, no pain, so fucking good, I love you.
Clark could barely handle one thrust before he was moaning embarrassingly loud in your ear, slipping his arms around your back to haul you into him, needing as much skin on his as he could get. You locked your legs around his hips and started smothering kiss after kiss on his face, tasting the little beads of sweat forming by his temple and ears.
“Jesus, I’m not gonna last,” he swore.
“Mmf– Clarkie, please!”
“Good girl, Christ, baby, you– you’re taking it so– mmf!” Clark cupped under your knee and hitched your leg up higher.
The move. Oh, fuck.
You experienced a full-body tremor that made you clench tight, and it dragged a guttural whine from Clark. He rutted into you helplessly, fast and shallow and blissful. “You’re perfect, you feel so– mm– so good, bunny, so–”
“Clarkie, I–”
The heat was building way faster than you expected, and the sensitivity in your hips had you tensing and bucking like an animal. So much for making the first time last.
“Baby, I’m– oh, f–!”
You muffled yourself in his shoulder and held on tight as his hips pressed you hard into the mattress, stuffing you with every lurch until he was whining into your hair and stuttering, cock seizing between your legs. A rush of pleasure made you wriggle and rock against him, not as overwhelming as the first, but equally as exhausting. You felt the warmth of something expanding between you, and a slight worry overcame you until you remembered he had a condom on. But then your curiosity peaked, and you gazed down to see soft white rings coating him. You turned beet red and slumped against the bed, feeling his weight pin you down as he caught his breath against the pillow under your head.
Clark muttered hoarsely, “You are so unbelievably hot. Oh my God. You are… wow.”
You fell into a weak fit of laughter which melted into a whine as he gently pulled out, taking some of your mess with him onto his sheets. You flushed and draped an arm over your face.
“M’sorry…”
“No, baby, don’t– don’t say sorry, oh, man,” he grinned, flopping beside you. He shoved you onto your side and jostled you back into a snuggle, and you laughed at his excitement. Clark pressed happy little kisses up your spine and neck. “Was cute. Pretty. Pretty girl, so good at that… mm, what a surprise.”
You couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your mouth. “I…”
“I’m happy, too,” he finished for you.
“That was…”
“Amazing.”
“Clark?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re entirely too energetic,” you giggled, eyes drooping.
“Oh, I wore you out, is that it? I bet you’d hate it if I–”
You squeaked and jolted as he dug his fingers into your hips, tickling you gracelessly. You thrashed and rolled over, trying to escape, but he encircled your thigh with a hand and hauled you back until you were trapped on his chest. He blew some of your hair out of his mouth and laughed, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. Your skin was warm to the touch, eyes all glazed and glassy, and you looked down at him like nothing else existed. You tangled fingers with his palm in the covers.
mean as in bondage and strict no-touching. he would handcuff your wrists above your head—no trying to tug at his perfect silk curls, or trying to push his face away when you got overstimulated. he would effortlessly use his super strength to keep your legs wide open and pinned to the bed for him. this is his pleasure.
oh, he loves to take his time with you. loves the way you whine and beg him to touch you while he painfully and slowly strips off your underwear and pretends not to see the liquid mess staining the bedsheets already. the first thing he does is spit right inside your hole. always. then, he shoves his tongue into you, and will stuff your panties in your mouth if he’s not in the mood for your yap. or, he’ll literally just tell you to shut up and will stop if you don’t. you obey— you always do.
the clit—oh, his favourite. he’s obsessed with how pretty and puffy it is when neglected for too long. he’ll wrap his lips around it, savouring the moment just for a little before he starts sucking harshly while your sopping entrance is occupied with not one but three of his fingers. he’ll bite you if you try to squirm and wiggle away—he can’t have that happening now, can he?
speaking of you squirming, if you even dare to move when he tells you not to—bless your poor pussy. he’ll stop eating you out and instead, make you count as he slaps your cunt over and over again while you sob uncontrollably, trying to apologize when only moans and whimpers leave your lips.
ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia
╰₊✧ you & peter get trapped in the library during a thunderstorm, but knowing about your fear of the storms, he finds a perfect way of distracting you┊2.8k words (prt one)
setting: england after the golden age
contains: smut!! dom peter & sub reader┊established relationship, mentions of peter’s past relationships in narnia & being insufferable about you, thunderstorms, semi-public & risk of getting caught, fingering, premature ejaculation because peter gets off on pleasuring you amen
➤ author's note: part two!! sorry this took foreverrr, i wasn’t feeling confident about how to write the smut portion or what i wanted them to do so i just kinda temporarily abandoned this until william himself came to me in the dreams (might write a fic about that dream on my side…)
there’s a certain aura that has been following peter around lately, it’s noticeable to everyone around him, but especially to his family. he wakes up a little earlier in the morning and pays more attention to his appearance, messing around with his hair in the mirror so that it looks neater and coordinating his outfits to be more put-together instead of just wearing whatever he randomly pulls out of his drawers (he won’t ever admit it, he puts a bit too much thought into making it look like it was thoughtless). there’s more vigor within him as he walks with a purpose while sometimes whistling a cheerful tune, possessing an energy much more befitting to his youth instead of being the tired old man he became after returning from the countryside. the grumpy, exasperated mood was replaced with the polite, courteous one that they remembered from before. he smiled at strangers, helped elderly folks carry their groceries across the street, and chose to apologize rather than throw a punch to stop fights from brewing since he didn’t want to be late for his prior arrangements.
what arrangement, one might wonder? why, a date with his new girlfriend, of course!
the honeymoon phase had the two of you inseparable, practically glued to the other’s side from the moment he finally asked you out a month ago. it was the type of relationship where old people recall their sweethearts from a younger age, where friends gush over how cute this pairing they never saw coming was, where tears are almost brought to his own mother’s eyes at the realization that her eldest child was now a man who would someday leave the nest to start his own, and where his siblings found great enjoyment in poking fun at him for being in love.
he has argued countless times to the deaf ears of his family that it was still far too early to tell, only about five weeks if he rounded up the days. while it’s true that both of you were taking it seriously and hoped to keep it steady for as long as possible, the first “i love you” has yet to be spoken, much less thinking about proposals, getting married, and all that nonsense that wouldn’t happen until probably his late twenties.
no one listened. although he had a fair point, it was the first time they had seen him express a genuine romantic interest in someone. it’s not much of a secret that peter “got around” back in narnia with both men and women alike, but he never connected with their hearts and only had these relations as stress relief (and he was lucky enough that most of them felt the same way, never really having anyone ask for more or lashing out when he refused their request), mainly focused on his kingly duties rather than getting married as his advisors recommended he do so many times.
besides, even if you weren’t the first one, what makes him think they aren’t going to bully him about being so smitten? that’s what siblings are for! they are there to tease him about the fact that he does everything with your judgment at the back of his head, when he consults them to ask if they think you would like it (you would think they wouldn’t have the foggiest idea, but he talks about you so much that they feel like they are dating you alongside him), and never shy away from using the affectionate title of “my girlfriend” when dragging you into random conversation.
“do you think my girlfriend would get mad at me if i lied about where i was, but it was because i was planning a surprise date for her? hypothetically, of course.”
“do you think my girlfriend will like this jumper, or should i wear the red one?”
“oh, these flowers? they’re a gift for my girlfriend.”
“yeah, i read that book, my girlfriend recommended it to me.”
“could you pick up some milk on the way back? i’m planning on baking something for my girlfriend.”
they never hear the end of it, but they don’t mind. it’s certainly better than having him mope about what has been lost, and they missed the spark of excitement in his eyes to start the new days because he wants to see you again.
“by the way, peter, you shouldn’t stay out for too long, it looks like a storm is brewing,” lucy mentioned, using a knife to spread strawberry jam on her jam.
“come on now, you might as well be asking him to dig a hole to china! he’s going on a date with his girlfriend, you know that he’s gonna be out until the sun goes down! isn’t that right, loverboy?” edmund laughed, making kissy faces at his older brother and falling out of his chair when he got smacked in return.
“has this now become part of our routine?” susan sighed. “put on a coat, you’ll catch a cold if you get caught in the rain— i don’t care if it’s ugly and ruins your outfit, she isn’t going to care either when it keeps you healthy.”
“alright, alright, tell mum i left and will be at the library.”
“we won’t need to tell her, you’re never anywhere else at this point!”
“oh, lay off me already! just say you’re jealous.”
his youngest sister was right, the weather did seem ready to start pouring at any moment. the skies were gray, the wind was blowing through his blonde hair, the streets were relatively empty, and he could even hear thunder in the distance if he stopped to listen. it didn’t matter to him, you guys were going to be indoors anyway and safe from the elements, gripping the borrowed novel in hand and continuing on his usual path.
as always, you were found hidden away in one of the many nooks and crannies of the building, casually sitting on the floor with your nose stuck in a book and not noticing his presence until he made it known. you’ll smile at him, give him a hug, and then a kiss on the cheek before motioning him to join you as you discuss whatever you have been reading.
this routine he has settled into may seem repetitive and bound to become boring at some point to many, but he only finds himself more excited each time. while the company of his old school friends was nice, he could no longer relate to or really fully understand them, which was why he became a “delinquent” loner to begin with, but truthfully, aside from his family, he'd rather be with you over anyone else.
it’s almost like you never run out of things to talk about and discuss, teaching him something new and fascinating each day with such an admirable passion. he loved hearing you yap about whatever subject you were thinking about at the moment, especially since you spent most of your time listening rather than talking at the beginning. it took a while to coax out this side of you since you were very shy and introverted after making the first move of your first meeting, but the reward of being one of the few people who could casually talk to you was so worth it.
(besides, while it’s the most frequent meeting area, this wasn’t the only thing the two of you did, with amusement parks, museums, and picnics also being a beloved spot for dating. it just felt the most meaningful to be where you both met for the first time.)
“i was hoping you would say that! when i read it for the first time, i thought it was stupid, and i hate it even more every time i reread it to try to gain a new perspective on it, but all of my friends disagreed with me. the entire premise is just so… miserable… from start to finish.”
he chuckled, “i don’t think i’ve ever heard about you hating a book so much.”
“well, it's for good a reason! maybe you should read it too, then you would agree with me!”
“why would i start reading something that’s only half a star out of five when i could finish reading that ten out of ten novel you recommended the other day?”
your silent giggles were quickly halted at the sound of thunder ripping through the air, followed by the light beginning to flicker, then going out entirely. the library began to erupt in confused murmurs before a man shouted out that the power would likely come back once the bad weather was over, but for everyone’s safety, they should just stay where they were and wait it out patiently instead of running out in the rain and risking injury by slipping on a puddle.
peter noticed you stiffen next to him. you always had a fear of loud sounds and darkness that you previously confined in him, and that fear was striking you at full force. seeing your growing distress, he quickly pulled himself close to you, wrapping a firm arm around your waist to assure you that he was there to comfort you, “don’t worry, it will pass soon.”
“i know, but i still can’t help but be nervous,” you sighed, suddenly feeling like a little kid again who would cower underneath the covers, cuddling with a teddy bear for comfort each time thunder shook the house. “i’m so grateful you’re here with me,” you voice dropped to a low whisper when you said that, but it was just loud enough for him to hear. the frightening nature of storms still has a suffocating grip on you, even though you had hoped you would have grown out of it by now, making you flinch when the sky cracks and flashes to illuminate the building for a second before going back to pitch black, but you were more than grateful to have peter’s comforting presence. you suppose his ability to make others feel safe during their more vulnerable moments was one of the many qualities he possesses that made him such a great leader in this alternate dimension, holding you with your body outlining the shape of his, and allowing you to forget about everything aside from how close you were.
now, instead of thinking about the weather raging outside, all you could think about was the close proximity between the two of you. of course, with the both of you in the honeymoon phase of your relationship and being rather rambunctious young adults who struggled to hide their growing infatuation, you’ve already hit second base after an incident where you both became rather handsy in a back alleyway while he was walking you home and multiple others where makeout sessions in hidden corners became a little too intense, but there was yet to be an opportunity for more to be done even though the two of you have been dreaming nonstop about the other.
that is, there wasn’t until now. you never quite thought that you would ever be doing anything of a sexual nature during a thunderstorm that made the lights blackout at your local library, but you should know by now that your boyfriend is a bit of a pervert who can’t help his mind running when you’re in his grasp like this.
and you should know by now that it’s impossible to say no to a man as charming as he, who can think of much better things for you to focus on instead of the storm, such as his fingers trailing from cupping your cheek as he kissed you, to your chest, to under your skirt, where they dipped below the hem of your underwear to press into your heat. it’s almost embarrassing how wet you already were from nothing more than him being overly touchy, but he was more than pleased with it since it let him know that you desired him just as much as he desired you and also allowed him to move his fingers within you with ease.
it’s nearly impossible for anything to be seen unless one was really straining their eyes through the darkness, and it was still difficult to tell what was going on even if they came with a flashlight. the both of you were in a spot that practically no one ever came to visit, and the position only looked like both of you were cuddling, and even if they realized, they would probably laugh it off as young love and possibly give a light scolding about leaving such things to somewhere that wasn’t so public, but you were still incredibly nervous about being caught in such a promiscuous position. the mere thought of it was enough to make you die a little on the inside, although your partner would find the entire thing pretty amusing.
still, the anxiousness didn’t last for very long as the pit in your stomach turned to pleasure at the way he was knuckle deep inside of your weeping cunt, curling his fingers just right in a way that had you gripping onto one of his strong arms for support. it wasn’t something you’ve never experienced before, since you have gone this far with a previous partner or two a while back, but it was so obvious that peter knew exactly what he was doing, teasing and prodding your body in a way that had you feverishly heating up and letting out the softest sighs that were drowned out by the rain. he could barely hear you gasping in his ear, encouraging him to continue with the clear goal of making the girl he intended to marry one day have her best orgasm ever.
every time his thumb languidly made little circling motions around your clit, and every time his fingers stretched you out so sweetly, you could feel a knot tightening in your core as he pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead, whispering words of praise for how perfect you were being for him with his breath fanning into the crook of your neck and making you melt like ice on a hot summer’s day. it was taking every ounce of control within you not to let out a sound since it would cut through the silence of the library, but had you been somewhere more private, you’re certain that you would have been more open about the sinful sounds slipping from your lips.
there’s a part of your lover who wishes he had waited to do so, so that he could see your beautiful face all blissed out and so that he could fully see your nude form, even watching how his fingers disappear into your folds, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t having the time of his life right now. the thrill is indescribable, almost like how he felt back in narnia before rushing into the battlefield, but much, much more enjoyable without the feeling of sickness flowing throughout his body. the way you’re clenching around him as you subtly rocked yourself back and forth to encourage him to reach deeper was making his brain run wild with all sorts of dirty fantasies of what other things he could do to you to elicit such adorable reactions.
before you even knew it, your hand flew up to your mouth to muffle the cry you let out with your orgasm ripping through you, shuddering at the impact as your mind completely went blank. your body tensed before completely relaxing, taking multiple shallow breaths to calm yourself down. in the meantime, peter was peppering kisses all over your face, telling you how wonderful you were for him. despite everything that he was doing, he was still unwaveringly gentle to remind you how much he loved you, yet firm enough to make you know how much he desired you. he’s just so… perfect, but if you told him that, you’re sure he would turn it back around on you like the gentleman he is, especially now that he’s helping clean you up with an overly convenient handkerchief in his pocket and especially when he offered to carry you home if needed due to how your legs were shaking in the aftermath.
and if it must be known, you weren’t planning on leaving him high and hanging when he was being so kind towards you, but by the time you were able to remember that you should be caring for him as well, you noticed that there was a barely noticeable sticky patch on the fabric of his pants, and he was rather sheepish about the truth, so you chose to let him save his ego this time around.
that is, only this time around, next time he’ll be getting teased to the point of madness.
I have been so busy with school recently and I haven’t been able to write but I just finished this today and I loved writing it sm :) enjoy !!!
The slivers of sun that broke free from the cracks in the curtain fell over my restless body. At the sight of the sun, I knew I could not stay in bed for long and rolled over with an annoyed groan. With my face now pressed against my pillow once again, I could see the reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror. The door was slightly ajar and allowed a perfect view of Peter through the mirror as he washed his hands with rigour. I watched his hair fall over his eyes and him glance up at the sound of the bedcovers rustling. Through the reflection our eyes locked and my breath hitched. A smug smirk found its way onto his face. I held my stare as he left the bathroom, and he wiped the water on his hands onto his trousers.
‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice still raspy from waking up.
Summary: You think Peter is hot when he's angry, and you need him to fuck you
Warnings: Smut, masturbation, created nothing more!
Genre: obscenity.
Word count: 1k
AN : It's my first time writing this genre, I hope it's not a failure and I don't review it
The gif is not mine!
————
Peter was angry for days, angry with everyone.
He had no patience, he yelled at his brothers from time to time and his look could kill Caspian with ease, he had also argued with you but nothing that would ruin their relationship.
Sure, part of you was frustrated with him because of the way he had treated people, including you, but another part of you was turned on.
You bit your lip as Peter walked away from Caspian, his eyes burning with anger.
Your legs clenched as he rudely demanded that Susan shut up.
Something throbbed in your body when he told you not to bother him, that he was working.
You also felt bad, he made you feel guilty, feel needy when he was having a bad time, but you couldn't help it, your body reacts on its own.
Now you walk at a brisk pace through the castle, arriving at your shared bedroom.When you arrived you saw Peter lying in bed and your face lit up.
Peter had been coming to bed late for days, you tried to wait for him but you ended up falling into the arms of sleep, and then when you expected to see him in the morning he had already gotten up very early.
You walk to your nightstand, take off your rings, the corset and you let your hair down, you go to your closet and choose the nightwear, which was just a loose dress.
No one speaks, Peter looks at you in silence, and you only concentrate on changing.
Maybe he thinks you're angry with him, but that's not the case, quite the opposite.
You walk to the bed and lie down on your side of the mattress.
"How was today?" You ask looking at him.
"Not so bad," he said in a soft tone.
Your hand takes he's and your lips fall to her cheek. "You've been very busy, so much work is going to make you sick"
"It is my duty" You kiss her lips.
"Your job is governor, not to be a slave to your government"
Peter's hands grab your waist. "You're so pretty... but you also talk so much." I speak mockingly.
Maybe at another time you had already acted offended but not today, you only wanted him.
You place yourself on his lap, each leg on his side.
Peter laughed, reading your attitude. "you need something?"
"To you" You said, bumping his forehead.
The king's hands squeezing the flesh of your hips.
"I thought you were mad at me."
You deny automatically. "Actually, I've been wanting you all day."
"Then you can have me now."
You squeal when in one quick movement his hands leave you underneath him.
You feel his lips on your neck and a muffled moan comes from your lips, so desperate.
You feel Peter smile against your skin. "You like this, don't you?" Another moan is elicited when he bites down on your skin. "Talk to me or I'll have to stop."
"Yes, I love it." You almost scream, desperate for he not to stop. "I've needed you for days, pet," you cry.
"You got me " he murmurs.
He leaves your neck and takes off your dress.
"Ah!" You can almost come when you feel your boyfriend's tongue on your tit, while his hand fits perfectly into the other.
Let go of your boob for a second. "Days ago, love?"
You nod. "You're.. so sexy when he's angry" you try to speak.
"Yeah?" Move to the other nipple.
"Yes. I've wanted you to fuck me all day"
Peter lets go of your tits and goes down until he reaches your pussy.
"Do you want me to make you cum with my tongue?"
"No." You say firmly. "I want to suck you."
Peter's eyes show the dose of pleasure at your words, and without speaking he turns over in bed, leaving you on top of him.
You take off his shorts and t-shirt he wasn't wearing.
Peter's lips part, trying to speak but his words get stuck in his throat as he feels you suck on his cock.
You choke, your eyes water but you don't stop, you don't want to stop.
“Oh, love,” you hear him say.
You take his cock out of your mouth for a few seconds. "You don't know how long I've wanted this," you confess, returning to your work.
"Me too, love," he stammers.
Sucking his cock with desire, as if it were a pacifier until you feel it finish on your lips and his muscles rest, much of his accumulated stress seems to disappear with the liquid.
“God, how I needed this,” you hear him ramble and smile.
Peter needs a minute to compose himself and lays you down on the bed, without warning he puts his head between your legs, tearing off your panties.
"Peter!" You moan.
He doesn't respond, just squeezes the flesh of your thighs, burying himself even deeper into your pussy, if that was possible.
His tongue violently flicks against your clit and you scream.
"The whole castle is listening to you, dove," she speaks into your pussy, sending vibrations that make you dizzy.
Your cheeks blush. "It's so good"
He sucks on your clit and you feel his fingers at your entrance.
"I'm around"
He didn't respond, he just accelerated his fingers and his tongue was more violent.
You come almost crying, in overwhelming pleasure and Peter doesn't stop, your orgasm and his perfume, stronger than ever, make you dizzy.
The eyes close lazily.
“Hey, lady,” you hear her voice rasp from her and your body vibrates. "we not finished"
Without further ado, he kisses your lips and you feel his cock at your entrance.
When you enter, your moans are muffled on his lips.
“It feels so good,” you gasp, feeling the slow, deep movements of the great king.
His hips speed up as his lips leave you, rising higher over your body and he pounds into your body without hesitation, as sure as only the Magnificent King could.
Your eyes widen and you feel pressure on your belly, his cock moving in and out.
His hips aren't hesitant as he pounds into you, his hands are squeezing his body and you can play that he's just using you to take away his stress from everything he deals with, but you wouldn't want him any different.
His hand finds your clit and you feel a rollercoaster ride through your body.
“Peter… I’m going to cum” you squeal.
"Cum." Demanded and you released yourself, feeling spasms of pleasure and then feeling Peter cum inside you.
Peter falls to the side of your body and his arms wrap around you.
Your body relaxes from his touch and the only thing you can do before going to sleep is listen to the voice of your beloved blonde.
summary: stuck with royal duties all day, peter and y/n eventually need a break to have... some adult fun.
word count: 1,5k
warnings: sexual content, porn without plot, breast play, p in v.
a/n: wrote this one really quickly, surprisingly, and it's here mostly so i don't disappear again because of uni.
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡
⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests: open⌟
The two of you had been analyzing files, signing papers, doing the heavy (boring) duties of a royal side by side for hours now. The tiredness slowly catching up, but still concentrated on the task at hand. Or so were you, not him.
With light touches, you felt Peter’s fingers brush the hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Focus on the task at hand, Peter.” you warned him kindly, knowing even your focus couldn’t last this long.
“But it is so hard,” he said, hand placed carefully around your neck, his fingers coming to play with the hairs at its nape, and his lips leaving soft kisses on your skin. “Especially when such a pretty lady is standing right next to you.”
Bobbing your head to the side instinctively, you allowed him access to more space. His lips lingered all over, teeth biting and leaving behind marks he adored to paint you with, marking you as his own. You let out a deep, long sigh, his touch enough to leave you inebriated.
His free hand fell on your lap, trying to pull your skirt up, desperate to touch the warm skin of your legs. However, a quiet screeching noise took your focus away from him. You took his hand on yours, away from your legs, and laced your fingers, moving your head to stare him deep into his eyes.
He lingered there for a while, too drunk on you to be able to react too quickly, too immersed in your eyes to pay attention to anyone else. Getting closer to you again, you felt his breath hitting your neck before giving you another bite, stronger than the ones before, full mouth meeting your skin, dragging a long, drawn out moan out of your throat.
”Close the door behind you,” he ordered, looking at the guard standing in his office, just some feet away from you, from behind your head. “And tell your comrades they don’t need to stay too close.”
Watching the guard leave from the corner of your eyes, awkwardly and in a rush, you couldn’t help the smirk from spreading on your face as you felt Peter’s tongue touch the same spot he’d bitten just before, full on making out with your neck now.
“Better?” he asked, moving your chin so you could face him again. Now you, too drunk on him, could only reply with a simple nod of your head. “Great.”
The hand that once rested on your lap, and was then tangled with yours, freed itself from your hold and pulled at your cleavage, exposing one of your breasts that was soon covered by your husband’s lips.
Peter’s tongue flickered and toyed with your hardening nipple, his mouth spreading wilder to fit almost your entire tit inside of it. He sucked on hard, deep, while his tongue still tortured your reddish, sensitive nipple.
You were sure you could’ve come just from it, but perhaps knowing you way too well, your husband stopped right before your high could’ve been reached, climbing up your chest with kisses until his lips touched yours for a long deserved, passionate kiss.
“Come here.” he demanded, breaking away from your lips and pulling at your waist. Obliging, you sat on his lap, pulling your skirt up so your wet underwear met the hard bulge tightening his pants, resting your knee on his sides as his hands slid under your dress and you started to ride him while you were both still fully clothed. “Calm down, Yn…”
He tried, but your movements didn’t stop, and you crashed your lips together to shut him up, tongues fighting in a rushed, wet, desperate battle for control, neither wanting to give in. His hands slid up your tights, nails scratching along the way, taking a hold of the hem of your underwear, a hand on each side, pulling away ripping it apart, and without wasting a single beat, he threw it away to the other side of the room.
With the speed in which the underwear was pulled from your made the soak fabric rub rashly at your clit and leave behind a painful yet arousing sensation, only turning you on even more. Now, your sticky honey left a puddle on his pants, and you could feel his thick cock way better than before, as he too was now grinding rapidly against you.
The sensation, making your head spin and your legs tremble, stopped you from noticing his hands untying his pants, pulling it down while holding you up just enough for his cock to break free, hitting against your belly as you continued to grind on his tight. You also didn’t notice him rubbing himself up and down his length, movements conveniently hidden under your skirt, as you were too involved in your little tongue dance, sucking on his and trying to assert dominance. It was out of nowhere that you felt his cock entering you without care, stretching you out, feeling like you were ripping apart just like your underwear did.
“P-pete!” You screamed as you tried to adjust to his size, years together and still not used to it. But Peter was also impatient, the long hours of work boring you two to no end, leading to a desperate need for ecstasy and release.
He thrusted hard into you, as you tried to meet him halfway, bouncing up and down his length. At this point, he had already untied the laces of your dress and ripping open the remaining bits, fully exposing your breast as they bounced up and down with your movements.
He pulled you towards him by the hips, closing every inch of space between you two as he tug on your arms, setting them over his shoulders and you wrapped them around his neck , all the while his own strong arms embraced you by your waist, trapping you against his own bare chest.
Your movements were never ceasing, never slowing down. Quite the opposite, actually, as the sound of skin hitting against skin only got louder, your own screams following, and the chair beneath you cracked, trembled, threatening to break with every one of his thrusts.
All day you were unaware of how much you’d desired, of how much you needed your husband inside of you, touching you, adoring you. You were too busy to focus on that, but you kept secretly always thinking about it.
When the tips of his fingers graced over the papers, following along the lines he read, the maps he analyzed, making you wish it was your skin he was playing with. When he bit his bottom lip when concentrating, every time he found a word he couldn’t understand, mistranslated or misplaced, or a topic that left him wondering, how you wish it was your lips he was biting instead.
When his hands rested on your back whenever he called you over, pulling you to his side asking for assistance, and his fingertips lingered on the side of your breasts, how you wished they were wrapped on them instead, playing with them bare.
You were hungry for him all day and only now realized. The ongoing sway of your hips a testament to this truth. Bodies all sweaty, dripping, clothes gluing to each other’s skins. Your naked chest, your hard nipples rubbing against the warmth of his own sweat soaked chest.
A knot forming on your stomach announced the coming of your high, as you begged your husband to “Please, baby, cum with me.”
With your request, you felt his load shooting up inside you soon after, filling you up with his thick seed, your husband a whimpering, moaning mess underneath you, his sound alone enough to bring you to your climax as well, your own release mixing with his inside your aching walls.
As you both try to ride down your highs, you lay on his chest, head resting on his shoulder, both breathless, messy and numb from all the pleasure. He held your chin, leaving peck all the way up till he felt the touch of your plump lips, giving you little kisses as he waited for you to recompose, pride blooming high inside of him, glad it was him and no one else making you feel this way.
There was, perhaps, nothing Peter loved more than watching you getting drunk on his dick, getting dumb on his touch, head completely empty from anything else. Your post sex glow his favorite version of you.
“Should we move to our chambers?” he whispered, not wanting to startle you, who still rested, with your eyes closed, on his shoulder.
Looking at him through long lashes, his dirty smirk adorning his well crafted lips, you found yourself obsessed with him all over again, just like every time he fucks you senseless. Obsessed with him just like the day you met, and the day you stood on the altar, and every single day after that and for the rest of your entire life, so you wished.
Kissing his cheeks over and over, you take a look around the otherwise empty office, made warm by the fire burning in your fireplace, darkned by the lack candles, and now filled with the smell of sex.
“We have plenty of space here.” you told him, meeting his lips once again, royal business forgotten.
ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia
╰₊✧ keeping your lust at bay while he works┊0.5k words
setting: the golden age
contains: smut!! dom peter & sub reader┊cockwarming & unprotected piv, established relationship, bratting & brat-taming?
➤ author's note: cockwarming fits peter so well
he kept one firm hand on your waist to stop you from squirming and held an ink-dipped quill in the other, eyes and mind somehow still focused on the stack of paper in front of him instead of the pretty little thing sitting on his cock. “hold still,” he scolded with a tone you knew all too well, one that made it sound like he was talking to a pet who wouldn’t stop wriggling instead of his lover who was writhing in his lap for him to notice her.
you could only whimper into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his built frame and trying not to roll your hips into his. even though his cock was already buried into you and hitting all of the right spots despite not moving, it wasn’t enough, you needed more, both more stimulation and more of his attention. it was times like these when you hated his iron resolve, wishing that he would just throw his work aside and fuck you properly already— the stuff he was doing right now wasn’t even that important, he mentioned earlier that it was just things he wanted to get ahead on! would it kill him to throw you a bone and give you a kiss or something? he’s being so cruel.
it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was only messing with you, using his royal duties as an excuse not to give you what you wanted after being so needy all day when he could tell how much you wanted him after an entire day of exchanging longing gazes.
“don’t you think you're a bit too spoiled, princess?” he spoke, finally tearing his gaze away from the table to look you in the eyes, a sparkle of amusement in his ocean eyes which confirmed your suspicions that he was purposely teasing you. “i’ve never denied you anything until now, don’t you think you could wait just another half hour?”
“nooo,” you mewled, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt and wrinkling it, “i need you now.”
“do you now?” he sighed to fake disappointment like it wasn’t his fault you were reduced to such a mess. his arm snaked your waist, reaching down to circle your delicately engorged cilt and relishing the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. he could see little teary crystals forming in the corners of your eyes, yet he didn’t allow it to cloud his next decision when he was already having far too much fun treating you like this.
“come on, peter… please?”
he hummed as if in thought, but you knew he had already made up his mind, “fifteen more minutes, does that sound okay?” before you could whine that it was too long and try to bargain for anything less, he refocused on his task. “that was a rhetorical question, by the way, either you wait or you don’t get to cum tonight,” he explained with a smile, pressing a kiss on your nose and leaving you hanging once again.
it was going to be a long night.
𝕶𝖗𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖝 @rocknrollsabotage - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
